(no subject)
What's a typical day for you?
Long.
A typical day begins whenever he's called in to CTU; he doesn't use an alarm clock anymore because he's got the shrill ring of the phone to wake up to. He brews some coffee, throws on some clothes, unless he's fallen asleep in them, and drives to the office at varying speeds, depending on the exigency of the call. He delivers greetings of varying courtesy to whoever happens to have been called in for the day--Tony and Chase are the only constants. Sometimes he does paperwork. Sometimes he convinces Chloe to do paperwork for him. He and Chase might be called out--for an interrogation, to track someone down, as backup, whatever's necessary. He returns tired or frustrated or anxious and paces into his office, waits a few minutes. Waits the rest of the day for it to end.
Then there are the days where he's undercover, days he can't talk about. Those're peppered with lies, arguments, threats, attacks and surrenders in quick succesion--at some point the line between the two becomes blurred. None of these days is typical. If they are, it's a sign he's not doing his job right. Then something'll go wrong and for a long while he won't stand a chance of forgetting.
And there are the days that don't seem to end. They start with a reaction--"Jack, we need you"--and after that it's reaction and result, hour after hour. He loses track of injuries, losses, betrayals. His coffee goes cold, gets spilled all over his desk in the rush to find a pen. Or a gun. Or a needle. He yells so much that by the end of it he's lost his voice completely and it's a trial to answer the phone. He tries not to take inventory at the end of it all, because eventually shame outruns necessity and he's left unable to sleep, counting the dead like sheep.
Those days seem easier each time--not more bearable, but easy, natural. He tries not to think about that either.
Long.
A typical day begins whenever he's called in to CTU; he doesn't use an alarm clock anymore because he's got the shrill ring of the phone to wake up to. He brews some coffee, throws on some clothes, unless he's fallen asleep in them, and drives to the office at varying speeds, depending on the exigency of the call. He delivers greetings of varying courtesy to whoever happens to have been called in for the day--Tony and Chase are the only constants. Sometimes he does paperwork. Sometimes he convinces Chloe to do paperwork for him. He and Chase might be called out--for an interrogation, to track someone down, as backup, whatever's necessary. He returns tired or frustrated or anxious and paces into his office, waits a few minutes. Waits the rest of the day for it to end.
Then there are the days where he's undercover, days he can't talk about. Those're peppered with lies, arguments, threats, attacks and surrenders in quick succesion--at some point the line between the two becomes blurred. None of these days is typical. If they are, it's a sign he's not doing his job right. Then something'll go wrong and for a long while he won't stand a chance of forgetting.
And there are the days that don't seem to end. They start with a reaction--"Jack, we need you"--and after that it's reaction and result, hour after hour. He loses track of injuries, losses, betrayals. His coffee goes cold, gets spilled all over his desk in the rush to find a pen. Or a gun. Or a needle. He yells so much that by the end of it he's lost his voice completely and it's a trial to answer the phone. He tries not to take inventory at the end of it all, because eventually shame outruns necessity and he's left unable to sleep, counting the dead like sheep.
Those days seem easier each time--not more bearable, but easy, natural. He tries not to think about that either.