At the end of the world.
OOC: For the time being I've woven events of the current season into Jack's canon, with the appropriate modifications necessary to fit it into his fanon. Spoilers will be behind a cut and I reserve to make changes as I need to, but that's where we're going for right now.
Jack Bauer wouldn't call what he was in a state of shock. It was, almost certainly, but it seemed too strong for that.
It seemed worse than shock. Worse than any adjective he could possibly come up with. It was a thousand different things and yet nothing he had ever seen before. Slumped on the ground in the middle of anywhere, tears in his eyes, he couldn't believe what was happening around him.
All he could think was, End of the fucking world.
He could see the mushroom cloud rising in the air. Everyone with the IQ of a third grader knew what caused one of those. Terrorists had set off a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia. The CTU strike had failed. God knew how many people had died, and how many more would die over the coming hours, days, weeks and maybe even months or years because of the nuclear fallout. He'd become familiar with those aftereffects during the last time he'd had to deal with nukes.
Not to mention he had to go tell Jillian Wallace that her husband was now atomized.
Not to mention he had to call Curtis's next of kin -- his family, a friend, whomever -- and tell them that he was dead. Jack had shot him in the throat, he'd seen him slipping away. It wasn't for certain but Jack doubted he would last long.
Curtis had given him no choice. He'd never seemed to be a man who would put his personal interests and biases ahead of the mission. But everyone was guilty of that, sometimes. Jack himself had done it where Nina Myers was concerned. No one had stopped him then. He'd had no choice but to stop Curtis now. A man who had been one of his best agents and a man who had become a friend.
He'd already thrown up the contents of his stomach. The tears were still coming to his eyes. And they were nowhere near done. Not after this.
Jack resolutely shoved himself to his feet and hurriedly wiped the water from his eyes. He didn't want any of his agents to see him like this. He wanted to just quit and walk away, but as Special Agent In Charge, he didn't have the luxury of doing that. Even if they had somebody like Bill Buchanan in the office from Division, Jack was proprietary. His office, his team, his city...his mission.
Like it or not.
The other agents had finished clearing the scene and an ambulance was on the way for Curtis. Jack didn't bother to stay; he knew the man would probably be pronounced dead on arrival. He looked down at his fallen friend, then at one of the tactical team agents.
"Stay with him...and call me when they get here."
The younger man nodded. "Yes, sir."
Jack took one more look at Curtis's body and forced himself to get into the SUV, and make his way back to CTU.
It was the hardest drive of his life since Richard Walsh had been killed six years earlier.
====
The situation at CTU wasn't panic, but exactly what Jack had been feeling in his heart and his head. Numb silence. Controlled chaos. Everyone knew they couldn't quit now, even through all of what they had seen before.
Jack knew they would be looking to him for direction. Despite Bill handling CTU while Jack was in the field, many of the agents were loyal to Jack. They considered themselves his team, like he always thought of them. They would be waiting for him to say something.
He wondered if Bill had told them that he had killed Curtis yet.
But Bill had the situation on the floor well under control, plus he had Tony Almeida and Jordan Spencer to lean on. When he caught the older man's look of 'do you want to take things over from here?' he just shook his head. Not yet. Not now. He needed to know what their next move was, figure it out. And he needed a few moments to decompress.
He headed up the stairs to his office, and resolutely shut the door behind him, before he sat on the worn leather couch, elbows on his knees.
He'd turned his phone off when he'd left Grenada Hills, and he flicked it back on now. He'd missed two calls from the 609 area code in the last twenty minutes. He only knew one person from that area code. Jennifer, he thought to himself. He didn't have time to call her back. He had no idea why she would call now, unless it had already broken on the news, but he had to deal with what was in front of his face. She would have to wait.
Jack had no idea she'd subsequently called another ex-colleague of hers, Milo Pressman, and gotten all the information she needed. He had no idea that she was putting herself on a plane from New Jersey and coming to see him. If he'd known he would have stopped her. At that present moment, Jack Bauer didn't want anyone he cared about, or even sort of liked, anywhere near him. Not within a million miles.
He didn't think he could protect them.
For all he knew, he'd just kill a couple more of them before the day was done.
Jack put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. His heart was heavy with grief and frustration, and he wanted to rip it out and just forget it existed. Forget the whole nightmare. Forget that the day previous he'd been chatting with Curtis over a cup of coffee about football.
For a couple of moments, he let himself cry for the friend that he had lost. Just like Jamey Farrell, Richard Walsh, Scott Baylor, his wife...
But he didn't have the time to mourn Curtis properly. There would be a time to grieve later. Once he was sure that he wouldn't have any more loved ones to bury. Or at least, that he had saved as many as he could. There was no time to grieve now. There was only time to move forward. He knew it, as much as he hated it.
He sucked in a deep breath, wiped the tears from his bloodshot eyes, and pushed out of his office, heading downstairs to the bullpen of CTU Los Angeles.
Heading back to the end of the world.
Jack Bauer wouldn't call what he was in a state of shock. It was, almost certainly, but it seemed too strong for that.
It seemed worse than shock. Worse than any adjective he could possibly come up with. It was a thousand different things and yet nothing he had ever seen before. Slumped on the ground in the middle of anywhere, tears in his eyes, he couldn't believe what was happening around him.
All he could think was, End of the fucking world.
He could see the mushroom cloud rising in the air. Everyone with the IQ of a third grader knew what caused one of those. Terrorists had set off a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia. The CTU strike had failed. God knew how many people had died, and how many more would die over the coming hours, days, weeks and maybe even months or years because of the nuclear fallout. He'd become familiar with those aftereffects during the last time he'd had to deal with nukes.
Not to mention he had to go tell Jillian Wallace that her husband was now atomized.
Not to mention he had to call Curtis's next of kin -- his family, a friend, whomever -- and tell them that he was dead. Jack had shot him in the throat, he'd seen him slipping away. It wasn't for certain but Jack doubted he would last long.
Curtis had given him no choice. He'd never seemed to be a man who would put his personal interests and biases ahead of the mission. But everyone was guilty of that, sometimes. Jack himself had done it where Nina Myers was concerned. No one had stopped him then. He'd had no choice but to stop Curtis now. A man who had been one of his best agents and a man who had become a friend.
He'd already thrown up the contents of his stomach. The tears were still coming to his eyes. And they were nowhere near done. Not after this.
Jack resolutely shoved himself to his feet and hurriedly wiped the water from his eyes. He didn't want any of his agents to see him like this. He wanted to just quit and walk away, but as Special Agent In Charge, he didn't have the luxury of doing that. Even if they had somebody like Bill Buchanan in the office from Division, Jack was proprietary. His office, his team, his city...his mission.
Like it or not.
The other agents had finished clearing the scene and an ambulance was on the way for Curtis. Jack didn't bother to stay; he knew the man would probably be pronounced dead on arrival. He looked down at his fallen friend, then at one of the tactical team agents.
"Stay with him...and call me when they get here."
The younger man nodded. "Yes, sir."
Jack took one more look at Curtis's body and forced himself to get into the SUV, and make his way back to CTU.
It was the hardest drive of his life since Richard Walsh had been killed six years earlier.
====
The situation at CTU wasn't panic, but exactly what Jack had been feeling in his heart and his head. Numb silence. Controlled chaos. Everyone knew they couldn't quit now, even through all of what they had seen before.
Jack knew they would be looking to him for direction. Despite Bill handling CTU while Jack was in the field, many of the agents were loyal to Jack. They considered themselves his team, like he always thought of them. They would be waiting for him to say something.
He wondered if Bill had told them that he had killed Curtis yet.
But Bill had the situation on the floor well under control, plus he had Tony Almeida and Jordan Spencer to lean on. When he caught the older man's look of 'do you want to take things over from here?' he just shook his head. Not yet. Not now. He needed to know what their next move was, figure it out. And he needed a few moments to decompress.
He headed up the stairs to his office, and resolutely shut the door behind him, before he sat on the worn leather couch, elbows on his knees.
He'd turned his phone off when he'd left Grenada Hills, and he flicked it back on now. He'd missed two calls from the 609 area code in the last twenty minutes. He only knew one person from that area code. Jennifer, he thought to himself. He didn't have time to call her back. He had no idea why she would call now, unless it had already broken on the news, but he had to deal with what was in front of his face. She would have to wait.
Jack had no idea she'd subsequently called another ex-colleague of hers, Milo Pressman, and gotten all the information she needed. He had no idea that she was putting herself on a plane from New Jersey and coming to see him. If he'd known he would have stopped her. At that present moment, Jack Bauer didn't want anyone he cared about, or even sort of liked, anywhere near him. Not within a million miles.
He didn't think he could protect them.
For all he knew, he'd just kill a couple more of them before the day was done.
Jack put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. His heart was heavy with grief and frustration, and he wanted to rip it out and just forget it existed. Forget the whole nightmare. Forget that the day previous he'd been chatting with Curtis over a cup of coffee about football.
For a couple of moments, he let himself cry for the friend that he had lost. Just like Jamey Farrell, Richard Walsh, Scott Baylor, his wife...
But he didn't have the time to mourn Curtis properly. There would be a time to grieve later. Once he was sure that he wouldn't have any more loved ones to bury. Or at least, that he had saved as many as he could. There was no time to grieve now. There was only time to move forward. He knew it, as much as he hated it.
He sucked in a deep breath, wiped the tears from his bloodshot eyes, and pushed out of his office, heading downstairs to the bullpen of CTU Los Angeles.
Heading back to the end of the world.