Shelter, Part 4
+++++
"Celery?” Chloe asked. "Jeeze, you know, I completely forgot. I kinda got held up at the pharmacy, helping get Frank some medicine.”
As they continued to the hall, Chloe produced the keys to the car and held them out. Instead of taking them, however, Chloe's mother asked, "Would you mind going out again, honey bunny? Chicken soup just doesn't work without celery.”
"Mom, would you please not call me that?” Chloe whined.
From the kitchen, her father called out, "Your mother can call you anything she pleases, as long as she doesn't call you late for dinner.”
"It's kinda sweet,” Jack piped up. Chloe shot him a glare intended to transmit every last bit of her sense of betrayal, then gave him a nudge with her hip. Better to get him out of the way before he went even further over to her parents' side and started calling her that, too.
"Okay, okay, I'll get the celery in a few minutes,” she said. "I just need to help Frankenstein here first.”
Neither Jack nor her mother responded to the jab, but Chloe thought she heard a chuckle from the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Chloe guided Jack into the bedroom and helped him lower himself to the bed. She reached for the door to shut it, making sure that her mother was no longer in the hall, then came back and dumped the contents of the paper sack onto the pillow at the same time that Jack slipped his gun underneath it.
"This stuff needs to be injected?” she asked, lifting up the box of gentamicin sulfate and discovering that it was a broad spectrum antibiotic. "I guess you can do that yourself. You must be pretty good at that sort of thing, after your heroin addiction.”
Jack had starting used heroin as part of an undercover operation, but then he'd continued to use after his cover had been blown, keeping it secret from the rest of CTU. Chloe had always wondered just how much of the addiction had been due to the operation, however, and how much had been to dull the pain of having lost his wife a few years previously. But Jack had never talked about it, and Chloe had never had the chance to tell him that she wouldn't have blamed him. Pain, especially emotional pain, could be, well, painful. To put it mildly.
Not hearing an answer, Chloe realized that she'd said something wrong. Again. "That was inappropriate. Sorry.”
Obviously having decided to ignore her as he usually did when her mouth got ahead of her brain, Jack sighed and said, "Yeah, I can do it myself, if I can just get to the vein in my arm.”
He unzipped the coat, and Chloe reached out automatically to help him slide it off. Underneath, he was wearing his own jacket, which also had to be opened and eased down his arms. Then there was the pullover and his long-sleeved shirt, and Chloe looked at them in dismay. Were they wide enough that he could roll up the sleeves, or would she have to take them off and put them back on him again?
"Actually, Chloe, it'd be easier if – you could inject it?” Jack asked. "Please?”
His voice had taken on a hesitant, pleading note that she'd never heard from him before. Chloe was used to him just giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. If he occasionally asked if she were okay, it was only partly because he might be worried about her personally. The other part was because he wondered if she were still capable of doing her job. He'd never shown her any vulnerability and had never asked for something that he wasn't capable of doing himself, until now.
"Well, I guess I can,” she said, scowling to hide her smile and reaching for the antibiotic. "How much do you need?”
Jack attached the needle to a syringe, his hands shaking ever so slightly, then plunged it into the glass vial and drew out a dose. Showing her the amount, he carefully handed it over, then twisted around so that he was facing away from her. She heard a quick zipping sound, and then he inserted his thumb into the waistband over his hip pocket, pulling both jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a handspan of buttock.
Chloe stuck the needle in about half an inch and depressed the plunger.
"Check the time, the next one should be in eight hours,” Jack said gruffly. "And find a jar or something for the used needles.”
"Sure,” said Chloe, laying the used syringe on the nightstand, then standing up and opening the door.
There was a deliciously chicken-y smell coming from the stove in the kitchen and Chloe stopped to sniff at the soup pot as she reached for an empty jam jar.
"Can you get a bag of those little marshmallows, too, for the candied yams?” her mother asked. "Here, let me write it down so you don't forget again. And could you ask Frank what his favourite kind of pie is, in case we have to buy anything for that?”
"Pecan,” Chloe said automatically, because pecan pie was her own favourite.
"I could tell he likes nuts,” her father said, turning over a page of his newspaper. "He likes you, after all.”
"Dad,” Chloe warned.
"Stuart,” her mother said, pursing her lips.
"Or maybe he'd prefer a fruitcake,” her father snickered, "like I do.”
Her mother threatened him with a wooden spoon, a look of loving exasperation on her face, then turned back to Chloe. "It won't hurt to ask him.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. "All right, all right.”
When she got back to the bedroom, Chloe wished she'd taken a gas mask home from CTU. The aroma of boiling chicken had been forcedly displaced by the stench of smelly socks, even though Jack only had one shoe off and was struggling with the other one. Putting the jar on the nightstand, Chloe reached out to help, just as Jack dropped the shoe to the floor. She was quicker to grab the blankets, however, as he stretched out on the bed. Tucking them in around his neck, Chloe asked, "What's your favourite kind of pie?”
Adjusting the blankets slightly, Jack looked up at her in confusion. "Pie?”
"Pie. You know, like pecan pie? My mom wants to make one for you.” Chloe hoped that he didn't name anything yucky, like rhubarb.
Jack closed his eyes, and for a moment, Chloe thought he was going to fall asleep and simply not answer. That would be okay, too. Then, quietly, he said, "Teri used to make a pie for Thanksgiving … with raspberries and blackberries and cherries … it was the best thing I'd ever tasted.”
"Raspberries, blackberries, and cherries,” Chloe repeated. She'd never heard Jack talk about his wife before. She wasn't even sure if she'd known that her name was Teri. At the risk of being inappropriate, again, she reached out and laid her hand on Jack's shoulder, giving it what she hoped was a comforting squeeze. She watched as a single tear formed in the corner of Jack's eye and eventually ran down the side of his nose. Using her sleeve, Chloe blotted it away.
Jack reached one hand out from under the covers and caught her wrist as she was about to pull it away. He used her fingers to stroke his own cheek, then sheltered her hand inside his and held it against his jawbone.
"Thanks,” he murmured. Chloe hesitated, certain that he was dreaming of his wife, but then he added, "For everything, Chloe.”
+++++
Chloe awoke to the sound of soft, stealthy footsteps across the living room floor. It was too quiet and too dark for it to be morning already, and her parents wouldn't be taking such pains to unlock the front door with a minimum of noise. Easing herself out from under the covers, she stood up and stuck her finger into Jack's ribs.
"Don't move, I've got a gun,” she said.
Jack froze with genuine uncertainty just long enough for Chloe to reach under his jacket and find his weapon exactly where she'd hoped it would be, tucked into the back waistband of his pants.
"Chloe –” Jack said.
Chloe reached for the light switch, and Jack turned around to face her. As she'd expected, he had his bag slung over his shoulder, and Chloe scowled at it. "Jack, where do you think you're headed at three in the morning?”
"Look, Chloe,” he said. "I've got the bullet out, I've got the antibiotics, there's no reason for me to stay. Now give me the gun and let me go.”
He held out his hand, but Chloe ignored it. "Jack, a few hours ago, you couldn't even walk without my help.”
"The antibiotics have kicked in. I'm doing better.”
"Well enough to walk five miles to the bus station?” Chloe exhaled huffily through her nose.
"I was gonna call a cab,” Jack explained. "From a payphone.”
"I already told you I'd drive you.”
"Then get your shoes on and let's go.”
For once, Chloe didn't respond to the tone of command. Instead, she clicked the safety off and pointed the gun at him. "No, you take your shoes off.”
"What?” Jack asked, putting his hands up.
"Take them off,” she repeated, "and slide them over there by the couch, or I'll shoot you in the leg.”
Grudgingly, Jack bent down and used one hand to untie the laces while keeping the other hand up. He stepped out of the shoes and nudged them towards the couch with his foot, revealing a hole in the toe of his sock.
"Take your jacket off and put it on the couch,” Chloe went on, making a mental note to do some emergency Christmas shopping at a more reasonable hour of the day. "And your bag.”
Jack did so, and Chloe stepped aside, gesturing with the gun. "Back to the bedroom.”
When they were both inside, Chloe said, "Lay down.”
Jack stretched out on the bed, and Chloe used the moment to shut the door and click the safety back on at the same time. Feeling for the corner of the desk and then the back of the chair, she laid the gun carefully on the floor underneath it, then walked over to the bed.
"Scoot over, up against the wall,” she said. "And get comfortable; you're going to be there for a while.”
Then she lifted the covers and got in next to him. He'd turned onto his right side, facing away from her, and she put one hand around his waist. In one aspect, he was right about the antibiotics having started work, even after such a short time. He wasn't nearly as fevered as he'd been, but there were still other things to consider. "Jack, you're not in any condition to go back out on the streets. I'm gonna make sure that you stay here until after Christmas.”
He was silent, and Chloe went on, "You don't have to celebrate with us, you know, if it's gonna make you uncomfortable. You can hide in here the whole time if you want, but you're staying, so get used to the idea.”
"The longer I stay here, the harder it will be for me to leave,” Jack said quietly, laying his hand on top of hers.
"I know.” Chloe mentally amended the sentence to "the harder it will be for me to let you go,” then sighed. "I know.”
Part 5
"Celery?” Chloe asked. "Jeeze, you know, I completely forgot. I kinda got held up at the pharmacy, helping get Frank some medicine.”
As they continued to the hall, Chloe produced the keys to the car and held them out. Instead of taking them, however, Chloe's mother asked, "Would you mind going out again, honey bunny? Chicken soup just doesn't work without celery.”
"Mom, would you please not call me that?” Chloe whined.
From the kitchen, her father called out, "Your mother can call you anything she pleases, as long as she doesn't call you late for dinner.”
"It's kinda sweet,” Jack piped up. Chloe shot him a glare intended to transmit every last bit of her sense of betrayal, then gave him a nudge with her hip. Better to get him out of the way before he went even further over to her parents' side and started calling her that, too.
"Okay, okay, I'll get the celery in a few minutes,” she said. "I just need to help Frankenstein here first.”
Neither Jack nor her mother responded to the jab, but Chloe thought she heard a chuckle from the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Chloe guided Jack into the bedroom and helped him lower himself to the bed. She reached for the door to shut it, making sure that her mother was no longer in the hall, then came back and dumped the contents of the paper sack onto the pillow at the same time that Jack slipped his gun underneath it.
"This stuff needs to be injected?” she asked, lifting up the box of gentamicin sulfate and discovering that it was a broad spectrum antibiotic. "I guess you can do that yourself. You must be pretty good at that sort of thing, after your heroin addiction.”
Jack had starting used heroin as part of an undercover operation, but then he'd continued to use after his cover had been blown, keeping it secret from the rest of CTU. Chloe had always wondered just how much of the addiction had been due to the operation, however, and how much had been to dull the pain of having lost his wife a few years previously. But Jack had never talked about it, and Chloe had never had the chance to tell him that she wouldn't have blamed him. Pain, especially emotional pain, could be, well, painful. To put it mildly.
Not hearing an answer, Chloe realized that she'd said something wrong. Again. "That was inappropriate. Sorry.”
Obviously having decided to ignore her as he usually did when her mouth got ahead of her brain, Jack sighed and said, "Yeah, I can do it myself, if I can just get to the vein in my arm.”
He unzipped the coat, and Chloe reached out automatically to help him slide it off. Underneath, he was wearing his own jacket, which also had to be opened and eased down his arms. Then there was the pullover and his long-sleeved shirt, and Chloe looked at them in dismay. Were they wide enough that he could roll up the sleeves, or would she have to take them off and put them back on him again?
"Actually, Chloe, it'd be easier if – you could inject it?” Jack asked. "Please?”
His voice had taken on a hesitant, pleading note that she'd never heard from him before. Chloe was used to him just giving orders and expecting them to be carried out. If he occasionally asked if she were okay, it was only partly because he might be worried about her personally. The other part was because he wondered if she were still capable of doing her job. He'd never shown her any vulnerability and had never asked for something that he wasn't capable of doing himself, until now.
"Well, I guess I can,” she said, scowling to hide her smile and reaching for the antibiotic. "How much do you need?”
Jack attached the needle to a syringe, his hands shaking ever so slightly, then plunged it into the glass vial and drew out a dose. Showing her the amount, he carefully handed it over, then twisted around so that he was facing away from her. She heard a quick zipping sound, and then he inserted his thumb into the waistband over his hip pocket, pulling both jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a handspan of buttock.
Chloe stuck the needle in about half an inch and depressed the plunger.
"Check the time, the next one should be in eight hours,” Jack said gruffly. "And find a jar or something for the used needles.”
"Sure,” said Chloe, laying the used syringe on the nightstand, then standing up and opening the door.
There was a deliciously chicken-y smell coming from the stove in the kitchen and Chloe stopped to sniff at the soup pot as she reached for an empty jam jar.
"Can you get a bag of those little marshmallows, too, for the candied yams?” her mother asked. "Here, let me write it down so you don't forget again. And could you ask Frank what his favourite kind of pie is, in case we have to buy anything for that?”
"Pecan,” Chloe said automatically, because pecan pie was her own favourite.
"I could tell he likes nuts,” her father said, turning over a page of his newspaper. "He likes you, after all.”
"Dad,” Chloe warned.
"Stuart,” her mother said, pursing her lips.
"Or maybe he'd prefer a fruitcake,” her father snickered, "like I do.”
Her mother threatened him with a wooden spoon, a look of loving exasperation on her face, then turned back to Chloe. "It won't hurt to ask him.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. "All right, all right.”
When she got back to the bedroom, Chloe wished she'd taken a gas mask home from CTU. The aroma of boiling chicken had been forcedly displaced by the stench of smelly socks, even though Jack only had one shoe off and was struggling with the other one. Putting the jar on the nightstand, Chloe reached out to help, just as Jack dropped the shoe to the floor. She was quicker to grab the blankets, however, as he stretched out on the bed. Tucking them in around his neck, Chloe asked, "What's your favourite kind of pie?”
Adjusting the blankets slightly, Jack looked up at her in confusion. "Pie?”
"Pie. You know, like pecan pie? My mom wants to make one for you.” Chloe hoped that he didn't name anything yucky, like rhubarb.
Jack closed his eyes, and for a moment, Chloe thought he was going to fall asleep and simply not answer. That would be okay, too. Then, quietly, he said, "Teri used to make a pie for Thanksgiving … with raspberries and blackberries and cherries … it was the best thing I'd ever tasted.”
"Raspberries, blackberries, and cherries,” Chloe repeated. She'd never heard Jack talk about his wife before. She wasn't even sure if she'd known that her name was Teri. At the risk of being inappropriate, again, she reached out and laid her hand on Jack's shoulder, giving it what she hoped was a comforting squeeze. She watched as a single tear formed in the corner of Jack's eye and eventually ran down the side of his nose. Using her sleeve, Chloe blotted it away.
Jack reached one hand out from under the covers and caught her wrist as she was about to pull it away. He used her fingers to stroke his own cheek, then sheltered her hand inside his and held it against his jawbone.
"Thanks,” he murmured. Chloe hesitated, certain that he was dreaming of his wife, but then he added, "For everything, Chloe.”
+++++
Chloe awoke to the sound of soft, stealthy footsteps across the living room floor. It was too quiet and too dark for it to be morning already, and her parents wouldn't be taking such pains to unlock the front door with a minimum of noise. Easing herself out from under the covers, she stood up and stuck her finger into Jack's ribs.
"Don't move, I've got a gun,” she said.
Jack froze with genuine uncertainty just long enough for Chloe to reach under his jacket and find his weapon exactly where she'd hoped it would be, tucked into the back waistband of his pants.
"Chloe –” Jack said.
Chloe reached for the light switch, and Jack turned around to face her. As she'd expected, he had his bag slung over his shoulder, and Chloe scowled at it. "Jack, where do you think you're headed at three in the morning?”
"Look, Chloe,” he said. "I've got the bullet out, I've got the antibiotics, there's no reason for me to stay. Now give me the gun and let me go.”
He held out his hand, but Chloe ignored it. "Jack, a few hours ago, you couldn't even walk without my help.”
"The antibiotics have kicked in. I'm doing better.”
"Well enough to walk five miles to the bus station?” Chloe exhaled huffily through her nose.
"I was gonna call a cab,” Jack explained. "From a payphone.”
"I already told you I'd drive you.”
"Then get your shoes on and let's go.”
For once, Chloe didn't respond to the tone of command. Instead, she clicked the safety off and pointed the gun at him. "No, you take your shoes off.”
"What?” Jack asked, putting his hands up.
"Take them off,” she repeated, "and slide them over there by the couch, or I'll shoot you in the leg.”
Grudgingly, Jack bent down and used one hand to untie the laces while keeping the other hand up. He stepped out of the shoes and nudged them towards the couch with his foot, revealing a hole in the toe of his sock.
"Take your jacket off and put it on the couch,” Chloe went on, making a mental note to do some emergency Christmas shopping at a more reasonable hour of the day. "And your bag.”
Jack did so, and Chloe stepped aside, gesturing with the gun. "Back to the bedroom.”
When they were both inside, Chloe said, "Lay down.”
Jack stretched out on the bed, and Chloe used the moment to shut the door and click the safety back on at the same time. Feeling for the corner of the desk and then the back of the chair, she laid the gun carefully on the floor underneath it, then walked over to the bed.
"Scoot over, up against the wall,” she said. "And get comfortable; you're going to be there for a while.”
Then she lifted the covers and got in next to him. He'd turned onto his right side, facing away from her, and she put one hand around his waist. In one aspect, he was right about the antibiotics having started work, even after such a short time. He wasn't nearly as fevered as he'd been, but there were still other things to consider. "Jack, you're not in any condition to go back out on the streets. I'm gonna make sure that you stay here until after Christmas.”
He was silent, and Chloe went on, "You don't have to celebrate with us, you know, if it's gonna make you uncomfortable. You can hide in here the whole time if you want, but you're staying, so get used to the idea.”
"The longer I stay here, the harder it will be for me to leave,” Jack said quietly, laying his hand on top of hers.
"I know.” Chloe mentally amended the sentence to "the harder it will be for me to let you go,” then sighed. "I know.”
Part 5