Drabbles
Author: cybertoothtiger
Rating: PG
Summary: A few drabbles written for a character & first line meme. First two are versions of the same prompt with Jack/Renee, third is Jack/Teri, fourth is Chloe and Prescott, and fifth is Kim, Jack and BB Teri.
A/N: Don't own 24. If I did, things would be different.
*****
For leigh57 , 24: Jack/Renee:
“You’ve got it backwards.”
“Dammit.”
“Let me help.”
“I’ve got it, Renee.”
The impatience in his voice told her to stay quiet, even as his fingers fumbled. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Jack -” She half turned to face him.
“Fuck!” He threw up his hands in disgust.
“You’re being ridiculous. Let me help.” She reached an awkward yet practiced hand up and unhooked her bra, but she left the straps on her shoulders as she turned.
“I’m sorry.” Jack mumbled, his head down.
“Don’t be.”
“My fine motor, it’s… well.” He huffed and rested his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs toying with the straps as his forehead met hers with a light bump. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, but this time his tone was rueful, on the border between self-mocking and embarrassment for his over-reaction.
Renee’s mouth hitched up in the beginning of a smile, but it was left incomplete as his lips covered hers.
******
And Take 2, spoilers up to 8-13:
“You’ve got it backwards.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, still struggling too much for breath to speak unless it was absolutely necessary.
“You’re supposed to protecting me, remember?”
The look he gave her told her that he understood that her relief at having made it in time was alloyed with something else: he would have to stop treating her like a goddamned damsel in distress, now.
“Renee,” he gasped. “What are you… how are you even here?”
“Don’t speak.” Almost subconsciously, she rubbed his back, her hand catching on the Velcro straps of his vest. The crate they were sitting on was hard and not quite wide enough, but the sirens were getting closer. The ambulance would be here in a minute. In the distance, she could see the search light of the helicopter as it scoured the water for signs of the boat carrying the rods.
She knew that as soon as the EMTs had patched him up with binder twine and sticky tape, Jack would be out there looking for them again, too. Even though no one had looked for him.
The words that were forming in her mind were drowned out by the wailing noise of the ambulance, which stopped abruptly as the headlights shone across their faces. A young man in a dark blue uniform leapt out and dashed towards them and the moment was gone. Jack was already focused on getting back on his feet, and Renee had no choice but to help him.
*****
For sardonicynic , 24: Jack/Teri, and extra pillows.
It’s never about the job. Not directly.
It’s the feeling, the subtle signals that what he does is more important, more worthy, than what she does.
She knows that’s petty. It’s petty because it’s true: his job is more important. He’s out… what, exactly? Saving lives? Busting drug dealers and violent criminals and rescuing little old ladies, or something.
She supposes. He doesn’t talk about it.
All she knows is that he comes home late, tired, smelling like smoke and vomit and gunpowder, sometimes. All she knows is that when there’s a schedule to be rearranged, it’s her world that has to be turned upside down, not his.
And the funny thing is, the schedule is supposed to turn his world right side up.
Deep down, it’s not about the job. It’s the worry that he’s missing out on the little things, the events and family occasions that make life something more than going through the motions. It’s the loss of the person who can take time to enjoy everything they’ve worked for - that’s what she really resents. She knows he feels the resentment. How could he not? But the feeling itself has become a barrier to him, one he doesn’t want to breach. If he could find a way around it, he would discover that she is still here, waiting for him.
It’s never about the job. Not really.
*****
For adrenalin211 : 24, Chloe and Prescott
The lunchbox with the dinosaur on the front.
It rang a bell, but only vaguely. She pulled her thoughts away from the briefing she was supposed to be giving in twenty-eight minutes.
“The one you had last year? Before Christmas?”
“Yeah. I want that one!” He nodded emphatically. “It’s dinosaur day today. We’re supposed to bring something with a dinosaur on it. Where is it, Mom?”
His face was expectant, as if her Uterine Tracking Device would have an instant lock on its location. She frowned, looking at the brightly-coloured bento box on the counter. There wasn’t time to put everything in different containers to go in a regular lunch box. She was running late as it was.
“Today?” Why didn’t she ever get any notice of these things? “I don’t know, Prescott. Can’t you just take this one?”
“No! I want the dinosaur one!”
“You want the dinosaur one, please.”
“Please?” He looked at her from under his bangs, one of the key weapons in his negotiation arsenal.
“Fine.” She stomped over to the cupboard and started rummaging around, more annoyed with herself for giving in than with him for asking, and silently cursing Morris for scheduling an early-morning meeting on Rosetta’s day off. “It should be in here somewhere.”
But it wasn’t. And then she remembered. “I think I threw it out.”
Big mistake. Huge. The wailing started immediately. “You. Threw. It. Out?” The words and sobs were like Morse code for meltdown.
“Prescott, Rosetta forgot to clean it out when you brought it home for the holidays, because you forgot to unload your backpack.” Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear the parenting expert reminding her to focus on solutions, not blame, but it was too hard to think with the surprisingly large noise this small human was making.
“Couldn’t you have cleaned it? Why did you have to throw it out?”
“It was gross, Prescott. It was covered in mold. And not the good kind that makes penicillin.”
“But that was my FAVOURITE lunch box!”
“It was not,” she sighed, exasperated. “You haven’t even asked about it for three months.”
This was all going off the rails rather badly. Even under Chappelle, CTU had never been like this. Chloe could feel that she wasn’t saying or doing the right things. Again. Dammit. She didn’t have the instincts for this.
“Prescott, you’ll just have to use this one.” She finished putting the baby organic carrots in their compartment and closed the lid of the bento box, tucked it into its miniature briefcase and added a drinking box of soy milk before zipping the case closed. “Come on. We’re running out of time.” She grabbed the lunch kit and a small backpack in one hand, and took him firmly by the arm with the other as she marched down the hall.
He baulked at the door. “But I want the dinosaur one! I loved that one! Uncle Bill gave me that one!”
The name did it. She snapped before she could stop herself.
“You don’t always get to keep the things you love, Prescott!”
Chloe had heard people talk about eyes as big as saucers, but she’d never really seen it herself until she became a parent. Until days like today, when the eyes appeared like shocked, accusing pools, reflecting her own failure back to her.
She lowered the backpack and lunch bag to the floor and crouched in front of him. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He sniffled into her shoulder. “I know it’s hard to lose something. It’s really hard, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said his tiny voice, muffled by her sweater.
“I know. It really is. I’m sorry, okay? I’m very, very sorry.”
And even though she knew they would miss their subway, she hugged his tiny body tight to hers for a long time. That’s what a normal mother would do.
*******
For catch22girl : 24, Kim and lil’ Teri.
She jolts awake to screaming.
Instantly, Kim’s body snaps to a state of high alert, her nerves thrumming as she rolls on the bed and scrabbles in the bedside table. He must have a gun in there, unless he took it with him? No, with Teri around, he’ll have it someplace secure. Dammit.
And then she hears a growl, low and rumbly, and another shriek, coming from the living room. She finds his Sig high on the bookcase, but footsteps slap on the hardwood before she can reach the door.
The shriek turns to laughter just as she opens the door to find Teri brandishing a foam sword, fending off a stuffed bear wielded by Jack, who is crouched behind the sofa.
“I’m so hungry,” he growls, then makes the bear stop and sniff. “I think there’s a little girl around here! I’m going to eat her up!”
Teri giggles and shrieks again. “No! Bad bear!”
Jack sees Kim standing there and stands, sheepishly. “Oh, you’re here. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.” His eyes travel down the length of her right arm to the hand hidden behind her back. His eyebrow arches. “Did we wake you up?”
Kim rubs her other hand against her eyes. “Yeah, you weren’t here, so I grabbed a nap. You startled me,” she adds, by way of explanation.
He nods but doesn’t say anything. They understand each other.
He turns to Teri. “Let’s get Goldilocks here a snack.”
Kim smiles. “I’ll be right there,” she says, and disappears back into the bedroom for a moment before joining them in the kitchen.
Rating: PG
Summary: A few drabbles written for a character & first line meme. First two are versions of the same prompt with Jack/Renee, third is Jack/Teri, fourth is Chloe and Prescott, and fifth is Kim, Jack and BB Teri.
A/N: Don't own 24. If I did, things would be different.
*****
For leigh57 , 24: Jack/Renee:
“You’ve got it backwards.”
“Dammit.”
“Let me help.”
“I’ve got it, Renee.”
The impatience in his voice told her to stay quiet, even as his fingers fumbled. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Jack -” She half turned to face him.
“Fuck!” He threw up his hands in disgust.
“You’re being ridiculous. Let me help.” She reached an awkward yet practiced hand up and unhooked her bra, but she left the straps on her shoulders as she turned.
“I’m sorry.” Jack mumbled, his head down.
“Don’t be.”
“My fine motor, it’s… well.” He huffed and rested his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs toying with the straps as his forehead met hers with a light bump. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, but this time his tone was rueful, on the border between self-mocking and embarrassment for his over-reaction.
Renee’s mouth hitched up in the beginning of a smile, but it was left incomplete as his lips covered hers.
******
And Take 2, spoilers up to 8-13:
“You’ve got it backwards.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, still struggling too much for breath to speak unless it was absolutely necessary.
“You’re supposed to protecting me, remember?”
The look he gave her told her that he understood that her relief at having made it in time was alloyed with something else: he would have to stop treating her like a goddamned damsel in distress, now.
“Renee,” he gasped. “What are you… how are you even here?”
“Don’t speak.” Almost subconsciously, she rubbed his back, her hand catching on the Velcro straps of his vest. The crate they were sitting on was hard and not quite wide enough, but the sirens were getting closer. The ambulance would be here in a minute. In the distance, she could see the search light of the helicopter as it scoured the water for signs of the boat carrying the rods.
She knew that as soon as the EMTs had patched him up with binder twine and sticky tape, Jack would be out there looking for them again, too. Even though no one had looked for him.
The words that were forming in her mind were drowned out by the wailing noise of the ambulance, which stopped abruptly as the headlights shone across their faces. A young man in a dark blue uniform leapt out and dashed towards them and the moment was gone. Jack was already focused on getting back on his feet, and Renee had no choice but to help him.
*****
For sardonicynic , 24: Jack/Teri, and extra pillows.
It’s never about the job. Not directly.
It’s the feeling, the subtle signals that what he does is more important, more worthy, than what she does.
She knows that’s petty. It’s petty because it’s true: his job is more important. He’s out… what, exactly? Saving lives? Busting drug dealers and violent criminals and rescuing little old ladies, or something.
She supposes. He doesn’t talk about it.
All she knows is that he comes home late, tired, smelling like smoke and vomit and gunpowder, sometimes. All she knows is that when there’s a schedule to be rearranged, it’s her world that has to be turned upside down, not his.
And the funny thing is, the schedule is supposed to turn his world right side up.
Deep down, it’s not about the job. It’s the worry that he’s missing out on the little things, the events and family occasions that make life something more than going through the motions. It’s the loss of the person who can take time to enjoy everything they’ve worked for - that’s what she really resents. She knows he feels the resentment. How could he not? But the feeling itself has become a barrier to him, one he doesn’t want to breach. If he could find a way around it, he would discover that she is still here, waiting for him.
It’s never about the job. Not really.
*****
For adrenalin211 : 24, Chloe and Prescott
The lunchbox with the dinosaur on the front.
It rang a bell, but only vaguely. She pulled her thoughts away from the briefing she was supposed to be giving in twenty-eight minutes.
“The one you had last year? Before Christmas?”
“Yeah. I want that one!” He nodded emphatically. “It’s dinosaur day today. We’re supposed to bring something with a dinosaur on it. Where is it, Mom?”
His face was expectant, as if her Uterine Tracking Device would have an instant lock on its location. She frowned, looking at the brightly-coloured bento box on the counter. There wasn’t time to put everything in different containers to go in a regular lunch box. She was running late as it was.
“Today?” Why didn’t she ever get any notice of these things? “I don’t know, Prescott. Can’t you just take this one?”
“No! I want the dinosaur one!”
“You want the dinosaur one, please.”
“Please?” He looked at her from under his bangs, one of the key weapons in his negotiation arsenal.
“Fine.” She stomped over to the cupboard and started rummaging around, more annoyed with herself for giving in than with him for asking, and silently cursing Morris for scheduling an early-morning meeting on Rosetta’s day off. “It should be in here somewhere.”
But it wasn’t. And then she remembered. “I think I threw it out.”
Big mistake. Huge. The wailing started immediately. “You. Threw. It. Out?” The words and sobs were like Morse code for meltdown.
“Prescott, Rosetta forgot to clean it out when you brought it home for the holidays, because you forgot to unload your backpack.” Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear the parenting expert reminding her to focus on solutions, not blame, but it was too hard to think with the surprisingly large noise this small human was making.
“Couldn’t you have cleaned it? Why did you have to throw it out?”
“It was gross, Prescott. It was covered in mold. And not the good kind that makes penicillin.”
“But that was my FAVOURITE lunch box!”
“It was not,” she sighed, exasperated. “You haven’t even asked about it for three months.”
This was all going off the rails rather badly. Even under Chappelle, CTU had never been like this. Chloe could feel that she wasn’t saying or doing the right things. Again. Dammit. She didn’t have the instincts for this.
“Prescott, you’ll just have to use this one.” She finished putting the baby organic carrots in their compartment and closed the lid of the bento box, tucked it into its miniature briefcase and added a drinking box of soy milk before zipping the case closed. “Come on. We’re running out of time.” She grabbed the lunch kit and a small backpack in one hand, and took him firmly by the arm with the other as she marched down the hall.
He baulked at the door. “But I want the dinosaur one! I loved that one! Uncle Bill gave me that one!”
The name did it. She snapped before she could stop herself.
“You don’t always get to keep the things you love, Prescott!”
Chloe had heard people talk about eyes as big as saucers, but she’d never really seen it herself until she became a parent. Until days like today, when the eyes appeared like shocked, accusing pools, reflecting her own failure back to her.
She lowered the backpack and lunch bag to the floor and crouched in front of him. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He sniffled into her shoulder. “I know it’s hard to lose something. It’s really hard, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said his tiny voice, muffled by her sweater.
“I know. It really is. I’m sorry, okay? I’m very, very sorry.”
And even though she knew they would miss their subway, she hugged his tiny body tight to hers for a long time. That’s what a normal mother would do.
*******
For catch22girl : 24, Kim and lil’ Teri.
She jolts awake to screaming.
Instantly, Kim’s body snaps to a state of high alert, her nerves thrumming as she rolls on the bed and scrabbles in the bedside table. He must have a gun in there, unless he took it with him? No, with Teri around, he’ll have it someplace secure. Dammit.
And then she hears a growl, low and rumbly, and another shriek, coming from the living room. She finds his Sig high on the bookcase, but footsteps slap on the hardwood before she can reach the door.
The shriek turns to laughter just as she opens the door to find Teri brandishing a foam sword, fending off a stuffed bear wielded by Jack, who is crouched behind the sofa.
“I’m so hungry,” he growls, then makes the bear stop and sniff. “I think there’s a little girl around here! I’m going to eat her up!”
Teri giggles and shrieks again. “No! Bad bear!”
Jack sees Kim standing there and stands, sheepishly. “Oh, you’re here. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.” His eyes travel down the length of her right arm to the hand hidden behind her back. His eyebrow arches. “Did we wake you up?”
Kim rubs her other hand against her eyes. “Yeah, you weren’t here, so I grabbed a nap. You startled me,” she adds, by way of explanation.
He nods but doesn’t say anything. They understand each other.
He turns to Teri. “Let’s get Goldilocks here a snack.”
Kim smiles. “I’ll be right there,” she says, and disappears back into the bedroom for a moment before joining them in the kitchen.