SANCTUARY 2/3
Posted in 24_fanfic
Title: Sanctuary, Chapter 2
Author: marinw
Characters: Jack/Dr. Kahr (OC)
Summery: Written for the 24nmore Write Your Own Day 9 Challenge. Jack finds refuge in an unexpected place.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: 24 is and was the property of Fox.
A/N: Oh Day 8, why can’t I quit you? This was written for the 24n’more Write Your Own Day 9 Challenge. Thanks to cybertoothtiger for the beta.
“And it’s not exactly prison.
But you’ll never be forgiven
For whatever you’ve done with the key.”
~ Leonard Cohen
Even before he opened his eyes he knew this wasn’t prison.
The air was too fresh; it was warm and cool at the same time. The sheet covering him felt too smooth and expensive. It was too quiet, the only sounds were the white-noise whirl of a nearby fan and some low voices in Arabic or Urdu. Even through half closed eyes Jack could tell that the light was soft and natural.
This wasn’t prison. He risked opening his eyes to find himself in a simple but clean hospital room. This particular room lacked the elaborate machinery Jack had become too familiar with during his long recovery from the weponized virus. Here, the only thing attached to him was an IV.
He had woken up in far worse places. He felt complexly drained, a deep exhaustion that could only come from the aftermath of a high fever.
He tried to make sense of the last day or two. There had been a long flight made bearable by drugs, but that reality had been mixed up with dreams and memories and wishful thinking.
At one point he was back in Los Angeles with Kim and his granddaughter and Renee. Even as he dreamt he knew that it couldn’t be real, that he couldn’t stay. That world was not for him. It had been there, just in his grasp. A normal, uneventful life.
He was wearing some sort of loose robe. Peaking underneath the lapel, he saw a large white bandage covering his left shoulder. Over the bullet hole he had goaded Chloe into putting there. Another large dressing covered his stomach, over the stab wound made by one of Novanovich’s men. Over the other stab wound Renee had…
Jack cut himself off mid-thought.
He thought of Novanovich’s men. Killing those people had been a mistake. A huge, irreparable mistake.
For a moment he lay there, still a little unsure of where he was. Then, outside his window he saw a minaret. And he knew.
He was in the Islamic Republic as Kamistan.
The drugs had rendered him reasonably comfortable, in body if not in spirit. He drifted back to sleep, where he dreamt of Kim and Renee and both his Teri’s.
••••
The next time he awoke a nurse was standing over him, a serene middle-aged woman wearing scrubs and a loose headscarf. She spoke to him in a dialect Jack didn’t understand. She offered him some water. Then she pointed to the bedpan and quietly left the room.
When that business had been taken care of the nurse returned with Dr Kadr.
“You are awake. That is good.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Almost two days.” Kadr put his arm on Jack’s in a gesture of reassurance, “You are on some medication to control the pain and help you relax. As well as some antibiotics.”
“What?”
Kadr sat on the edge of Jack’s bed. “Your wounds had become infected despite my best efforts to clean them on the flight over. With the help of antibiotics your fever broke only last night. I must ask: do you have any difficulties with your immune system?”
“I had a stem cell transplant about a year ago.” There was no point in withholding that piece of information.
Kadr’s eyebrows shot up. “Cancer?”
“I was exposed to a weaponized virus.”
“The CJD variant. We heard of that.”
“That information is classified.” Strange, how Jack still felt the need to protect American secrets.
“We have our sources. That would explain a great deal. Are you still on immuno-suppresents?”
“No, I was able to stop those a month ago.”
“You must tell me what other medications you are on. I will try to find a substitute.”
Jack looked skeptical.
“Unfortunately, we cannot easily access your medical records. I do not have the resources that American doctors have. I will do the basics that will permit your body to heal itself: keep the wounds clean, give you fluids and pain medication, and let you rest. I am confident that the worst is over. You should recover fully.”
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. President Hassan insisted that we take good care of you. Remember this: You are not our prisoner. You are our guest."
TO BE CONTINUED
Title: Sanctuary, Chapter 2
Author: marinw
Characters: Jack/Dr. Kahr (OC)
Summery: Written for the 24nmore Write Your Own Day 9 Challenge. Jack finds refuge in an unexpected place.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: 24 is and was the property of Fox.
A/N: Oh Day 8, why can’t I quit you? This was written for the 24n’more Write Your Own Day 9 Challenge. Thanks to cybertoothtiger for the beta.
“And it’s not exactly prison.
But you’ll never be forgiven
For whatever you’ve done with the key.”
~ Leonard Cohen
Even before he opened his eyes he knew this wasn’t prison.
The air was too fresh; it was warm and cool at the same time. The sheet covering him felt too smooth and expensive. It was too quiet, the only sounds were the white-noise whirl of a nearby fan and some low voices in Arabic or Urdu. Even through half closed eyes Jack could tell that the light was soft and natural.
This wasn’t prison. He risked opening his eyes to find himself in a simple but clean hospital room. This particular room lacked the elaborate machinery Jack had become too familiar with during his long recovery from the weponized virus. Here, the only thing attached to him was an IV.
He had woken up in far worse places. He felt complexly drained, a deep exhaustion that could only come from the aftermath of a high fever.
He tried to make sense of the last day or two. There had been a long flight made bearable by drugs, but that reality had been mixed up with dreams and memories and wishful thinking.
At one point he was back in Los Angeles with Kim and his granddaughter and Renee. Even as he dreamt he knew that it couldn’t be real, that he couldn’t stay. That world was not for him. It had been there, just in his grasp. A normal, uneventful life.
He was wearing some sort of loose robe. Peaking underneath the lapel, he saw a large white bandage covering his left shoulder. Over the bullet hole he had goaded Chloe into putting there. Another large dressing covered his stomach, over the stab wound made by one of Novanovich’s men. Over the other stab wound Renee had…
Jack cut himself off mid-thought.
He thought of Novanovich’s men. Killing those people had been a mistake. A huge, irreparable mistake.
For a moment he lay there, still a little unsure of where he was. Then, outside his window he saw a minaret. And he knew.
He was in the Islamic Republic as Kamistan.
The drugs had rendered him reasonably comfortable, in body if not in spirit. He drifted back to sleep, where he dreamt of Kim and Renee and both his Teri’s.
••••
The next time he awoke a nurse was standing over him, a serene middle-aged woman wearing scrubs and a loose headscarf. She spoke to him in a dialect Jack didn’t understand. She offered him some water. Then she pointed to the bedpan and quietly left the room.
When that business had been taken care of the nurse returned with Dr Kadr.
“You are awake. That is good.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Almost two days.” Kadr put his arm on Jack’s in a gesture of reassurance, “You are on some medication to control the pain and help you relax. As well as some antibiotics.”
“What?”
Kadr sat on the edge of Jack’s bed. “Your wounds had become infected despite my best efforts to clean them on the flight over. With the help of antibiotics your fever broke only last night. I must ask: do you have any difficulties with your immune system?”
“I had a stem cell transplant about a year ago.” There was no point in withholding that piece of information.
Kadr’s eyebrows shot up. “Cancer?”
“I was exposed to a weaponized virus.”
“The CJD variant. We heard of that.”
“That information is classified.” Strange, how Jack still felt the need to protect American secrets.
“We have our sources. That would explain a great deal. Are you still on immuno-suppresents?”
“No, I was able to stop those a month ago.”
“You must tell me what other medications you are on. I will try to find a substitute.”
Jack looked skeptical.
“Unfortunately, we cannot easily access your medical records. I do not have the resources that American doctors have. I will do the basics that will permit your body to heal itself: keep the wounds clean, give you fluids and pain medication, and let you rest. I am confident that the worst is over. You should recover fully.”
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. President Hassan insisted that we take good care of you. Remember this: You are not our prisoner. You are our guest."
TO BE CONTINUED