Shelter, Part 7
+++++
"Can you drive me to the bus station?” Jack asked as Chloe backed the car out of the driveway. As she stopped to change gears, she gave him a look. Her mother had asked her to run to the store for some milk, and to her surprise, Jack had asked to come along. Now she knew why.
"Just to buy a ticket,” he added hastily.
"When are you planning on leaving?”
Jack turned his head away from her. "To-morrow.”
"If you wait until I fly back on the twenty ninth, we can drop you off in Chicago on our way to the airport,” Chloe pointed out.
"I've been here long enough already,” Jack said quietly, still looking out of the window on his side.
"Just as long as you don't try to sneak out again without saying good-bye,” Chloe snapped.
"I'll say good-bye,” Jack said. Neither of them looked at each other.
They got the milk, and then Chloe drove downtown. She knew there wasn't any point in trying to find an empty parking space right next to the combined train and bus station, so she steered towards a nearby garage. With shoppers trying to get the after-Christmas sales, the garage was almost full, but she managed to find an empty space close to the top.
Jack took one look at the elevators, then headed for the stairs instead, not saying anything, just expecting Chloe to keep up. She was only a few steps behind him until they got closer to ground level and oncoming pedestrian traffic, and the gap between them widened as she was squeezed to one side by a brawny teenager. As soon as he'd pushed by, Chloe put her foot out for the next step.
She never knew which came first; the pain or the fall. All she knew was that she was hurtling down the stairs until she landed in a sprawled heap, and there was agony radiating from both her ankle and her wrist. Feeling someone next to her, she lifted her head slightly, hoping it was Jack, but it was the teenager. After he'd ripped her purse from her hand, he turned and ran out through the open door that led to the second level of parking.
"Jack,” Chloe called out between sobs. Jack had pounded up from the landing below, but to Chloe's surprise, he didn't stop, just leaped over her and raced through the door in pursuit.
Still crying, Chloe pulled herself up to a sitting position, trying not to move her legs as she hugged her arm to her chest. She didn't think she'd ever felt physical pain like that, it wasn't exactly the sort of thing that happened routinely around computers, and frankly, she was surprised at how much it hurt. Her thoughts flew to Jack, and the way he'd calmly laid down and let her take a bullet out of his back. Okay, so he'd twitched a little, and shouted a little, but she didn't think she'd have been able to stand anything of the sort without fainting or trying to run away. Good thing she wasn't a field agent.
"Here's your purse,” Jack said, coming back in. "You okay?”
Gritting her teeth, Chloe shook her head. Jack dropped her purse next to her and squatted down. "Where does it hurt?”
"Left ankle,” she choked out, suddenly ashamed of her tears and not wanting to cry in front of him. "Right wrist.”
"Let me see.” He eased her boot off, then felt along her leg. Chloe tensed up as he worked his way down to her ankle, but his touch was gentle.
"I don't think it's broken,” he finally announced, letting go of it and reaching for her arm. "Probably just sprained.”
"Hey, old man,” said a voice from behind Jack. Looking up, Chloe saw that the teenager had returned, with blood under his nose and something in his hand. She screeched a warning, but Jack had already straightened up and was blocking the blow. The piece of pipe fell with a clatter to the asphalt and rolled away, and after a few well-placed punches, the teenager followed it, landing face down and groaning.
"Right wrist, Chloe?” Jack asked, glancing to her for confirmation before walking over to where the pipe had rolled up against the back tire of a car. When he returned with the pipe in his hand, the teenager was trying to get to his feet, but Jack grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back, turning his hand outward almost to the breaking point. Chloe watched in horrified fascination as Jack swung the pipe and connected with the boy's wrist. The boy screamed, and Chloe flinched.
Letting go, Jack reached into the boy's back pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to the driver's license. He leaned down and spoke quietly into the boy's ear. Chloe couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was obviously some kind of threat, because when Jack leaned back, the boy couldn't crawl away fast enough. Jack tossed the wallet beyond him, and with the clumsiness of panic, the teenager used his left hand to grab it before straightening up and starting to run. Looking disgusted, Jack came back to where Chloe was sitting.
"Come on,” he said. He leaned down and picked up her purse, then slipped it over his arm and reached for her good hand. "Let's get you back to the car.”
The adrenaline rush that Chloe had experienced while watching him in action faded, and the pain returned abruptly. She got awkwardly to her feet, hissing occasionally, and was just about to start hobbling towards the elevators when Jack suddenly started down the stairs.
"Climb on my back,” he said, stopping on the third step. "I'll carry you.”
"What about that bullet hole?” Chloe asked. "I don't want to hurt you.”
"It'll be fine,” Jack said. "Come on.”
Chloe opted not to be slung around, and leaned forward until she could slide her arms around Jack's neck, then lifted her legs. He caught her immediately, holding her around his waist as easily as though she were a child, and as he carried her to the elevator, she rested her head briefly on top of his, inhaling the clean scent of his hair. Although she wanted to tell him how sexy he was just after he'd beaten up other people on her behalf, she didn't dare. He would be leaving in another day, and it wouldn't be fair to either of them to make it more difficult. Closing her eyes, Chloe concentrated instead on how sheltered she felt, just being so close to him.
+++++
Chloe watched irritably as Jack leaned over the chess board, moved his knight, and captured her queen.
"Checkmate,” he said, and she made a face. She'd actually been hoping that she could win this time, and the disappointment made her snippy. "I told you I don't play games.”
After taking care of the purse-snatcher, Jack had driven her from the garage to the nearest emergency room, where Chloe had been diagnosed with a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist. They'd gotten home late for lunch, and although Chloe had been content to sit and watch her choice of DVD's all afternoon, Jack had soon gotten restless. When he'd mentioned that he was going for a walk, Chloe had almost expected him to disappear, but he'd returned quickly with a cheap chess set and had set about teaching her how to play. She'd only gone along with it to please him, but being beaten several times in a row was beginning to get on her nerves.
"You did pretty well on that card game you bought for the boys yesterday. What was it called?”
"Wings of War, Famous Aces,” she said. "And I only did well because I spent a lot of time researching it before I bought it.”
"I'm sure if you spent more time researching chess, you'd do better. Want to play again?”
"Not for the rest of my life,” Chloe snapped, reacting to the very thought. "You can ask my father.”
"Not in the middle of Stalag 17, he can't,” Chloe's father announced from his seat in front of the television. He'd taken over the comfy recliner the minute Chloe had moved away from it, and had gotten out his own selection of movies.
"Does your leg still hurt, Chloe?” her mother asked. "Do you want an aspirin before you go to bed?”
"No,” Chloe snapped again. "I'm not in pain, I'm just tired of playing stupid games and watching stupid war movies. I want my laptop.”
"Ah, the sweet snarl of withdrawal,” her father commented.
"Where did you put it, honey bunny?” her mother asked. "Is this it, over here?”
"Mom, I told you not to call me that.” Chloe glanced over to where her mother was trying to lift something up from the floor on the side of the couch. "Yeah, that's it.”
"I'll get it,” said Jack, standing up. "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. O'Brian.”
"It's heavier than it looks,” she said. "Do you know how to work these things, Frank?”
"Well, I can plug it in and switch it on,” Jack said. "Chloe's the real genius.”
He took the case over to the dining room table and opened it up, then attached the cord and found the nearest plug. Switching it on, Chloe checked her email, picking up a few electronic cards from those people at CTU who sent Christmas greetings to everybody whether they liked them or not. Jack had sat down next to her, obviously finding her laptop more interesting than the television, and she showed him the funniest of the scenes. His smile was enough to cheer her up temporarily, but then she saw an ad for cheap flights. It reminded her of Jack's impending departure, and her mood plummeted again. When the movie finally ended, Chloe was glad to order everybody out of the living room with the excuse that she was tired and wanted to go to bed.
"Why don't we switch?” Jack suggested, zipping her laptop case shut. "I'll sleep out here to-night and you can have the bedroom. That way, you'll be closer to the bathroom.”
"Whatever,” Chloe snapped. She leaned over to reach for her crutch, but Jack got there before she did.
"Come on, I'll help you,” he said.
"I don't need your help and I don't want your help,” she said.
"Chloe, stop being such a porcupine and let the man carry you to bed,” her father snapped back.
Jack took Chloe's arm and placed it around his own shoulders. She had no choice but to limp down the hall to the bathroom with his assistance, trying to remain irritated so that she didn't enjoy his proximity too much. Her parents followed; her father carrying her bags, and her mother with painkillers and a glass of water from the kitchen. When she emerged from the bathroom, they had gone, but Jack was there, waiting, and she let herself lean on him all the way to the bed. Her irritation was slipping rapidly away, no matter how sternly she told herself that he'd soon be gone.
Chloe didn't resist as Jack helped slip her clothes off, then pulled the nightshirt over her head. Reminded of the way she'd done the same for him, Chloe sighed. Had it really only been four days? He'd recovered so quickly.
"Jack?” she asked as he lifted up the covers for her to slide underneath. "Is there anything else I can do for you before you go? I could book your ticket online, and pay for it if you'll let me, even find you a place to stay for the winter ...”
Jack hesitated, then sat down on the side of the bed. "It's better if you don't know where I'm going, Chloe.”
"Yeah, I guess you're right,” she agreed. "I'm not very good with pain. If somebody tried to torture me to get me to tell them where you were, I'd probably tell them everything in the first minute.”
"You're stronger than you think, Chloe. You'd hold out longer than that.”
"Two minutes? Big difference.”
Jack smiled, but didn't answer, and Chloe finally came back to the original question. "So, is there anything? I mean, whaddaya miss the most when you're out there?”
"I miss --” Jack began, then stopped. Waiting for him to continue, Chloe reached out and laid her hand on top of his. He looked down in surprise, then picked up her hand in both of his. "That's what I miss the most – human contact. The connection to other people. But that's not something you can give me, Chloe, not when I'm out there.”
"No,” she said, understanding immediately. "Not out there. But if you wanted, you could spend the night here. In this bed. Next to me, I mean. If it wouldn't make things more difficult for you. It probably would, but I just thought I'd offer.”
Jack nodded, gave her hand an extra squeeze, then stood up and went out in silence. Chloe had just decided that he wasn't going to take her up on it after all when he returned, putting out the lights and stripping down to his boxers. Smiling, Chloe scooted over to make room for him to lay down next to her, not even grimacing despite the twinges in her wrist and ankle. No doubt to-morrow, after he left, her heart would feel like it had been sprained as well, but to-night, she could offer him shelter one last time.
The End
written spring 2006
"Can you drive me to the bus station?” Jack asked as Chloe backed the car out of the driveway. As she stopped to change gears, she gave him a look. Her mother had asked her to run to the store for some milk, and to her surprise, Jack had asked to come along. Now she knew why.
"Just to buy a ticket,” he added hastily.
"When are you planning on leaving?”
Jack turned his head away from her. "To-morrow.”
"If you wait until I fly back on the twenty ninth, we can drop you off in Chicago on our way to the airport,” Chloe pointed out.
"I've been here long enough already,” Jack said quietly, still looking out of the window on his side.
"Just as long as you don't try to sneak out again without saying good-bye,” Chloe snapped.
"I'll say good-bye,” Jack said. Neither of them looked at each other.
They got the milk, and then Chloe drove downtown. She knew there wasn't any point in trying to find an empty parking space right next to the combined train and bus station, so she steered towards a nearby garage. With shoppers trying to get the after-Christmas sales, the garage was almost full, but she managed to find an empty space close to the top.
Jack took one look at the elevators, then headed for the stairs instead, not saying anything, just expecting Chloe to keep up. She was only a few steps behind him until they got closer to ground level and oncoming pedestrian traffic, and the gap between them widened as she was squeezed to one side by a brawny teenager. As soon as he'd pushed by, Chloe put her foot out for the next step.
She never knew which came first; the pain or the fall. All she knew was that she was hurtling down the stairs until she landed in a sprawled heap, and there was agony radiating from both her ankle and her wrist. Feeling someone next to her, she lifted her head slightly, hoping it was Jack, but it was the teenager. After he'd ripped her purse from her hand, he turned and ran out through the open door that led to the second level of parking.
"Jack,” Chloe called out between sobs. Jack had pounded up from the landing below, but to Chloe's surprise, he didn't stop, just leaped over her and raced through the door in pursuit.
Still crying, Chloe pulled herself up to a sitting position, trying not to move her legs as she hugged her arm to her chest. She didn't think she'd ever felt physical pain like that, it wasn't exactly the sort of thing that happened routinely around computers, and frankly, she was surprised at how much it hurt. Her thoughts flew to Jack, and the way he'd calmly laid down and let her take a bullet out of his back. Okay, so he'd twitched a little, and shouted a little, but she didn't think she'd have been able to stand anything of the sort without fainting or trying to run away. Good thing she wasn't a field agent.
"Here's your purse,” Jack said, coming back in. "You okay?”
Gritting her teeth, Chloe shook her head. Jack dropped her purse next to her and squatted down. "Where does it hurt?”
"Left ankle,” she choked out, suddenly ashamed of her tears and not wanting to cry in front of him. "Right wrist.”
"Let me see.” He eased her boot off, then felt along her leg. Chloe tensed up as he worked his way down to her ankle, but his touch was gentle.
"I don't think it's broken,” he finally announced, letting go of it and reaching for her arm. "Probably just sprained.”
"Hey, old man,” said a voice from behind Jack. Looking up, Chloe saw that the teenager had returned, with blood under his nose and something in his hand. She screeched a warning, but Jack had already straightened up and was blocking the blow. The piece of pipe fell with a clatter to the asphalt and rolled away, and after a few well-placed punches, the teenager followed it, landing face down and groaning.
"Right wrist, Chloe?” Jack asked, glancing to her for confirmation before walking over to where the pipe had rolled up against the back tire of a car. When he returned with the pipe in his hand, the teenager was trying to get to his feet, but Jack grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back, turning his hand outward almost to the breaking point. Chloe watched in horrified fascination as Jack swung the pipe and connected with the boy's wrist. The boy screamed, and Chloe flinched.
Letting go, Jack reached into the boy's back pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to the driver's license. He leaned down and spoke quietly into the boy's ear. Chloe couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was obviously some kind of threat, because when Jack leaned back, the boy couldn't crawl away fast enough. Jack tossed the wallet beyond him, and with the clumsiness of panic, the teenager used his left hand to grab it before straightening up and starting to run. Looking disgusted, Jack came back to where Chloe was sitting.
"Come on,” he said. He leaned down and picked up her purse, then slipped it over his arm and reached for her good hand. "Let's get you back to the car.”
The adrenaline rush that Chloe had experienced while watching him in action faded, and the pain returned abruptly. She got awkwardly to her feet, hissing occasionally, and was just about to start hobbling towards the elevators when Jack suddenly started down the stairs.
"Climb on my back,” he said, stopping on the third step. "I'll carry you.”
"What about that bullet hole?” Chloe asked. "I don't want to hurt you.”
"It'll be fine,” Jack said. "Come on.”
Chloe opted not to be slung around, and leaned forward until she could slide her arms around Jack's neck, then lifted her legs. He caught her immediately, holding her around his waist as easily as though she were a child, and as he carried her to the elevator, she rested her head briefly on top of his, inhaling the clean scent of his hair. Although she wanted to tell him how sexy he was just after he'd beaten up other people on her behalf, she didn't dare. He would be leaving in another day, and it wouldn't be fair to either of them to make it more difficult. Closing her eyes, Chloe concentrated instead on how sheltered she felt, just being so close to him.
+++++
Chloe watched irritably as Jack leaned over the chess board, moved his knight, and captured her queen.
"Checkmate,” he said, and she made a face. She'd actually been hoping that she could win this time, and the disappointment made her snippy. "I told you I don't play games.”
After taking care of the purse-snatcher, Jack had driven her from the garage to the nearest emergency room, where Chloe had been diagnosed with a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist. They'd gotten home late for lunch, and although Chloe had been content to sit and watch her choice of DVD's all afternoon, Jack had soon gotten restless. When he'd mentioned that he was going for a walk, Chloe had almost expected him to disappear, but he'd returned quickly with a cheap chess set and had set about teaching her how to play. She'd only gone along with it to please him, but being beaten several times in a row was beginning to get on her nerves.
"You did pretty well on that card game you bought for the boys yesterday. What was it called?”
"Wings of War, Famous Aces,” she said. "And I only did well because I spent a lot of time researching it before I bought it.”
"I'm sure if you spent more time researching chess, you'd do better. Want to play again?”
"Not for the rest of my life,” Chloe snapped, reacting to the very thought. "You can ask my father.”
"Not in the middle of Stalag 17, he can't,” Chloe's father announced from his seat in front of the television. He'd taken over the comfy recliner the minute Chloe had moved away from it, and had gotten out his own selection of movies.
"Does your leg still hurt, Chloe?” her mother asked. "Do you want an aspirin before you go to bed?”
"No,” Chloe snapped again. "I'm not in pain, I'm just tired of playing stupid games and watching stupid war movies. I want my laptop.”
"Ah, the sweet snarl of withdrawal,” her father commented.
"Where did you put it, honey bunny?” her mother asked. "Is this it, over here?”
"Mom, I told you not to call me that.” Chloe glanced over to where her mother was trying to lift something up from the floor on the side of the couch. "Yeah, that's it.”
"I'll get it,” said Jack, standing up. "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. O'Brian.”
"It's heavier than it looks,” she said. "Do you know how to work these things, Frank?”
"Well, I can plug it in and switch it on,” Jack said. "Chloe's the real genius.”
He took the case over to the dining room table and opened it up, then attached the cord and found the nearest plug. Switching it on, Chloe checked her email, picking up a few electronic cards from those people at CTU who sent Christmas greetings to everybody whether they liked them or not. Jack had sat down next to her, obviously finding her laptop more interesting than the television, and she showed him the funniest of the scenes. His smile was enough to cheer her up temporarily, but then she saw an ad for cheap flights. It reminded her of Jack's impending departure, and her mood plummeted again. When the movie finally ended, Chloe was glad to order everybody out of the living room with the excuse that she was tired and wanted to go to bed.
"Why don't we switch?” Jack suggested, zipping her laptop case shut. "I'll sleep out here to-night and you can have the bedroom. That way, you'll be closer to the bathroom.”
"Whatever,” Chloe snapped. She leaned over to reach for her crutch, but Jack got there before she did.
"Come on, I'll help you,” he said.
"I don't need your help and I don't want your help,” she said.
"Chloe, stop being such a porcupine and let the man carry you to bed,” her father snapped back.
Jack took Chloe's arm and placed it around his own shoulders. She had no choice but to limp down the hall to the bathroom with his assistance, trying to remain irritated so that she didn't enjoy his proximity too much. Her parents followed; her father carrying her bags, and her mother with painkillers and a glass of water from the kitchen. When she emerged from the bathroom, they had gone, but Jack was there, waiting, and she let herself lean on him all the way to the bed. Her irritation was slipping rapidly away, no matter how sternly she told herself that he'd soon be gone.
Chloe didn't resist as Jack helped slip her clothes off, then pulled the nightshirt over her head. Reminded of the way she'd done the same for him, Chloe sighed. Had it really only been four days? He'd recovered so quickly.
"Jack?” she asked as he lifted up the covers for her to slide underneath. "Is there anything else I can do for you before you go? I could book your ticket online, and pay for it if you'll let me, even find you a place to stay for the winter ...”
Jack hesitated, then sat down on the side of the bed. "It's better if you don't know where I'm going, Chloe.”
"Yeah, I guess you're right,” she agreed. "I'm not very good with pain. If somebody tried to torture me to get me to tell them where you were, I'd probably tell them everything in the first minute.”
"You're stronger than you think, Chloe. You'd hold out longer than that.”
"Two minutes? Big difference.”
Jack smiled, but didn't answer, and Chloe finally came back to the original question. "So, is there anything? I mean, whaddaya miss the most when you're out there?”
"I miss --” Jack began, then stopped. Waiting for him to continue, Chloe reached out and laid her hand on top of his. He looked down in surprise, then picked up her hand in both of his. "That's what I miss the most – human contact. The connection to other people. But that's not something you can give me, Chloe, not when I'm out there.”
"No,” she said, understanding immediately. "Not out there. But if you wanted, you could spend the night here. In this bed. Next to me, I mean. If it wouldn't make things more difficult for you. It probably would, but I just thought I'd offer.”
Jack nodded, gave her hand an extra squeeze, then stood up and went out in silence. Chloe had just decided that he wasn't going to take her up on it after all when he returned, putting out the lights and stripping down to his boxers. Smiling, Chloe scooted over to make room for him to lay down next to her, not even grimacing despite the twinges in her wrist and ankle. No doubt to-morrow, after he left, her heart would feel like it had been sprained as well, but to-night, she could offer him shelter one last time.
The End
written spring 2006