capeandcowllogs | 'Terrorists dread the day in October that Daylight Savings Time ends.'

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'Terrorists dread the day in October that Daylight Savings Time ends.'

WHO: Jack Bauer and Sarah Connor
WHERE: The diner Sarah waitresses at.
WHEN: The following takes place between 2PM and 3 PM, four days after Jack Bauer's arrival in the City. Events occur in real time.
WARNINGS: Almost definite violence.
SUMMARY: Jack stops in Sarah's diner looking like a crazy hobo after a few days living on the streets of the City. With a gun. Things happen.
FORMAT: Paragraph

Jack Bauer sat hunched over a steaming cup of coffee in a diner, staring at the newspaper in front of him. The 'Daily Trombone' (one of several news sources he had scoured for information over the last few days) further confirmed what he had spent the last four days making sure of: it was real. It was happening. He was in another universe, in a world where New York had for some reason never been named 'New York'. He was surrounded by people who had been kidnapped from other worlds, given superhuman abilities, and then tossed into a City on the verge of anarchy, a City that had been practically abandoned by the government to the mercy of criminals and terrorists for over a year. And he might never see his family again.

That last thought sent an involuntary tremble through his hands as they held the coffee on the table. He had been done. It had been over. He had found peace, devoted himself to his family, chosen to leave behind his life of violence and crises and finally, truly rest. And now the Porter had taken him away from all that.

Standard procedure in abduction situations was to escape and keep as low a profile as possible until help arrived or could be contacted. Jack may not have been able to call anyone for help- he had wasted the better part of a day on pay phones, finding out that all his old contacts in the federal government didn't exist in this reality- but he had certainly kept a low profile. Sleeping outdoors for only a few hours at a time, scrounging food, change and clothing, sparingly using the Porter's communicator... by this time Jack stank and had the beginnings of a full beard, and was able to blend in seamlessly with the City's homeless population. He also had a gun, a small automatic acquired through less than fully-legal means and tucked into his jacket.

I can't do this forever, he thought. This whole time, he had been holding out in hope that this was just another bad day, or series of days, that he would get to the bottom of this and find a way home. But he was slowly being forced to realize that he was in this for the long haul, and he wouldn't be able to spend all of that time homeless. Like it or not, this City was going to be his home for the foreseeable future. Which meant that he'd need shelter and income. And a shave.

I'm supposed to be retired, damn it, he thought wearily, and sighed, bowing his head towards his coffee, bought with scavenged change. He was tired, he was distressed, and he was out of practice, which was why the gun in his jacket was for a few seconds clearly visible to anyone who cared to look.

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Sarah had watched the ragged-looking man enter the diner with a wary eye. Sometimes the homeless wandered in, trying to get warm, trying to beg for a meal, unless they started panhandling customers she usually didn't bounce them. But this guy didn't look that desperate. About a step away from it, but not there yet.

So for the most part she ignored him. Brought him his coffee and tried to stay out of his way.

...until she saw the gun. She'd noticed a bulge when he came in, but tried to dismiss it, but when he shifted in his seat the weapon was unmistakable.

She watched him another moment, then decided to quietly get him to leave. She really didn't need this tonight. She approached him cautiously and refilled his coffee as she spoke low.

"There are laws against concealed weapons, you know."

Sonofabitch. What a stupid, amateur mistake. Jack forced himself to raise his head and give a weak, bashful, thoroughly fake smile. "Yeah, well, the law doesn't mean too much these days, does it?" His voice was low as well. "I'm not here to start any trouble. Just trying to stay safe." She's probably native to this place, he thought. I can't let her know I'm one of them... us. Judging from the headlines they tended to make, he'd be surprised if the Porter's victims were embraced by the City.

Sarah recognized the fake smile for what it was. God knew she'd used her own enough times to put others at ease. So, she returned it.

"There's staying safe and then there's carrying concealed." She looked around the diner as the last afternoon dawdler exited. God bless afternoon dead zones. The lack of potential witnesses was a blessing.

"Leave the piece and walk out and this stays between us." There was a professional sounding edge to her voice that belied her status as a lowly waitress.

Warning bells were beginning to sound in the part of Jack's mind responsible for keeping him alive throughout a life of death. This waitress was not acting like a waitress.

"Okay, I'll go." He pushed the cup of coffee she'd just filled away from him- slightly. "But I'm not leaving this thing behind, okay. I need it." Having to deal with arming himself again was one of the last things he wanted right now.

It had been a calculated move, one Sarah hadn't really expected to work, but she watched him warily and moved toward the register, under which was concealed the shop owner's piece. Her hand dropped lower, ready to grab the weapon and she just... watched him, untrusting.

She's got good observational skills, good instincts, Jack thought as he watched her right back. And I'll bet there's a gun near that register she's thinking of going for. She's either been trained, had field experience, or both.

"All right, I'm going. Thanks for the coffee." Slowly, keeping his hands visible (but near his gun), he got up and began walking carefully towards the door- backwards, in case the 'waitress' decided to go for a weapon when he turned his back. He did not leave a tip.

He knew what he was doing, alright. His movements were measured, fluid, and more importantly spoke of a lot of time in tense situations. There was no hesitation, no darting around, just acceptance and acquiescence.

Before she knew what she was doing, she smirked, "What no tip?"

Jack looked surprised for a second, then gave a smirk of his own. "Yeah, alright." He slowly and carefully reached into his jacket pocket, then tossed the last of his scrounged change on the table. He then reached into another pocket- again, slowly- and took out a pair of sunglasses, which he slipped on.

"Who are you working for?" He asked. "And I'm not talking about the diner." She was definitely some sort of operative or combatant; the question was, for who?

She could dissemble, give him a smile, maybe a laugh, but she knew it wouldn't get her anywhere. She relaxed a little, bringing both hands where he could see them, but not so far that she couldn't reach the gun in a blink, and gave him the truth.

"Right now, I do work at the diner. Back home I protect my family."

She was certain he had an idea the lengths she could go to do so.

Well that Jack could definitely understand. He nodded and gave a small, tight smile that was actually genuine. "That's what's important." He turned to go. "Take good care of them. It's a dangerous City."

"More than you realize."

She spoke mostly to herself but looked up as he turned to leave. "How'd you end up on the street?"

Why was she still talking to him? She had zero inclination to protect the city, from this man or any other. But there was a familiar... tiredness to him.

He paused, thinking of how to answer truthfully without revealing too much. Jack was sure this woman was capable of spotting lies. "I felt it was best to lay as low as possible, with everything going on," he said. "Stay off the grid, keep a low profile. Safest that way."

Sarah took a calculated risk and moved away from the register entirely, some of the tension bleeding away as she did. It was happening more and more at work. Tension, a crawling feeling under her skin. It was making her anxious... but maybe not quite as anxious as this guy.

"You're either hiding from someone..." She picked up a rag and started to clear away his coffee cup, "...or you're not from around here."

Jack relaxed slightly and moved aside from the door, since it looked like he wasn't leaving just yet. "Hey, maybe it's both." He had no idea how she might react to admitting that he was an... ImPort, that was the term, wasn't it? Although he was beginning to suspect that she wasn't exactly a local herself.

"I'm guessing the latter. The former's probably your life back home."

She smiled and leaned against the counter in a deceptively casual manner.

"Or maybe not."

Suddenly Jack's guard shot back up, and he tensed visibly. Careful, he thought. She was more perceptive than he had thought, and he had already though she was a lot more insightful than most people. "You're pretty good at guessing things. You're not from around here either, are you?"

"Nope." She smirked. "I'm from LA."

"Yeah, me too actually," he said. "And considering that California's a terrorist state in this world, I guess that answers both our questions." For someone who had spent so much of his professional career keeping Los Angeles safe, finding out about the HIVE had been among the worst of Jack's discoveries during his investigation. He held up the communicator that marked him as an ImPort. "I just got in a few days ago. What about you?"

"Longer."

Sarah offered her hand with a slightly more genuine smile, "Sarah Baum." And a slightly less genuine name.

It was strange how a single day or even a single hour could have so many twists and turns. A few minutes ago Jack had braced himself for a gunfight with this woman, and now he was starting to like her. He took the hand and shook it firmly. "Jack Bauer. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarah." He meant it, despite or even partly because of the circumstances.

"What were you before you came here, again?" She was fairly certain he hadn't mentioned it, but she was curious nonetheless.

She also poured him another cup of coffee, feeling slightly more sorry for him now that she knew he was an imPort. Obviously he didn't have anyone here and for a moment Sarah was haunted at what may have happened if Kyle and Cameron hadn't arrived to help her.

He stared at the coffee, suddenly very aware of how empty his pockets were now that the last of his scavenged change had gone into Sarah's tip. "Thanks, but I can't pay for that. And I was retired." He gave that small smile again. "Full-time grandfather. Best job I've ever had."

"If you have your tags, you can afford it. And if not, you can come back and pay me later."

She gave him a smirk and motioned toward his comm, "Or I'll go on that and tell everyone you don't pay your debts to hard-working waitstaff."

He shook his head. "I'm not trusting anything that machine gives us." But he did pick up the coffee and take a large swallow of it. "But I will pay you back once I've got a job, I give you my word."

"Don't doubt it."

She leaned on the counter, absently wiping it down for something to do while she talked.

"What kind of work are you looking for?"

Another swallow. "I'm not going back into the field. But I was thinking I could do some consulting work, give security advice to companies, that sort of thing. I know a lot of ways a place can be made more secure, and security seems to be a real problem around here."

Sarah thought for a moment before answering.

"Tony Stark. Runs a major company here in the city. He's a imPort. My son worked for him... while he was still here."

She frowned, she tried not to think about John too much, especially after some of the things she was beginning to suspect after Kyle's little change earlier. She shrugged it off.

"If he can't hire you, he might know someone who will."

He nodded. "Thanks, I'll remember that." He made mental note both of the name Tony Stark and the fact that it was possible for ImPorts to be successful in htis place. Then her words sank in. "Your son was here?"

"Yes."

The word is terse, and her tone was clearly meant to warn him to drop the subject.

Jack drops it. He would do the same if she had asked about Teri. Which would be worse, he wondered. Having someone you love here, in a place this dangerous, or having them at home, knowing they were safe but still being apart. He sips his coffee awkwardly and tries to think of something else to talk about.

She gave the counter another wipe before tossing the rag into a bucket. She took a chance and made an assumption.

"Gets easier. Time. Just keep telling yourself they're home and... safe."

Although it was increasingly difficult to believe the safe part, no matter what she was told.

"It's true what they say, right?" Jack had been thinking about the exact same thing ever since he'd gotten here. "When we go back, it's to the exact same moment, it's like we were never gone?"

"That's what they say. I wouldn't know from experience." But you could bet she thought about it a lot. Kyle, John, even Cameron, going back and not remembering any of it. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Jack would gladly trade his memories of the City for the surety of his family's situation- after all, most of them hadn't been very good ones so far. "Yeah, well." He finished the coffee in one long pull, not noticing how hot it was. "I hope you get to see him again soon." It sounded trite, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Besides, he meant it.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and slid a glass of water near him, in case that coffee had been too hot.

"I will."

And God help anyone who tried to prevent that.

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'Terrorists dread the day in October that Daylight Savings Time ends.'

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Holy crap it looks like nothing's getting blown up this is amazing

Day ain't over, yet.

This is very true

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