[23] FIC -- Perfect Soldier, 1120 words.
Theme: 03:00 - Determination, especially in matters that seem to hold you back.
Title: Perfect Soldier
Fandom: 24
Character/Pairing: Jack Bauer
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, mild violence.
Disclaimer: Jack Bauer isn't mine. I'm not making money off this. It's just for fun. I'll put him back when I'm through. Link to the table is here.
Some people call him a freak. Some people call him a murderer. Some people tell him he's a warrior, that he's a good man, that he's saved the lives of many people and that the country should practically worship him. Perhaps make him the President, since he's saved the lives of at least the last three.
Jack Bauer doesn't listen to them, because it's not in his nature to take credit for what he's done. He's a soldier. A trained machine, crafted by his service in the Army, then in Delta Force, where he became a weapon used for kills that the rest of the world never needed to know about. Jack believes that if CTU does their job right, nobody will hear about it. Nobody will hear about him. When they say his name on the news, or when he reads the blurb in the Times that reports of the arrest made in that terrorism case, they've messed up. Because they're supposed to be hidden.
CTU is the red headed, bastard stepchild of the CIA.
The kid that's rough around the edges. The kid that gets into fights and lands in the principal's office on a once-a-week basis. The CIA can have their secret liasons and code words, but Jack and CTU prefer big guns and bigger manhunts and car chases.
Jack didn't used to be this way.
Once upon a time, he was a young boy, who liked to surf in the Pacific off of Santa Barbara, who got into squabbles with his older brother, Graem, who listened to his dad because they were a family of three and his mom was long gone. That was when he was seven. When he grew up, the lines started to form in the sand. Dad wanted him to work for BXJ. Jack joined the Army instead.
To become that soldier.
That soldier inside is the man who sits awake at the desk in his office, ignorant of the fact that the majority of his team has gone home. It's just after three in the morning, and while most of his agents are home with their families and their loved ones, in bed, Jack is pouring over data reports, intel, trying to find the missing piece that's been running from him for days. He knows it's there, and he's going to find it if it kills him or he loses four extra hours of sleep a night in the process.
When he does find it, just after three-thirty, it's a quick placed phone call to round up the troops and call in the boys. Chloe runs tactical from CTU while Jack grabs an H&K USP Compact and heads for the massive black SUV parked in his space outside the building. Bullets are loaded into the weapon, his vest is strapped on, and his mind is set on one goal.
Get the target, at all costs. Complete the mission.
Nevermind that it's the middle of the night in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. Nevermind that he hasn't slept well in days, up for hours at a time searching, digging, hunting for answers amidst the endless swirls of data, paperwork, files and photographs. He hasn't eaten more than half a bag of Doritos in fourty-eight hours, and has probably downed two or three cups of coffee.
He can't quite remember. It doesn't matter, right now. Jack Bauer has a mission and an objective, and that is to get the target. His mind is set. The gun is loaded. He will not be stopped.
When they reach the target location, a warehouse a few miles from the Santa Monica Pier, he screws the silencer on the end of the weapon and then ducks out of the SUV. It's a soft entrance, which means sneaking over the fence instead of kicking it down, finding an open window instead of busting through the door with a ram. He's running point. There's an agent behind him. All of this work, all the long hours, is about to pay off.
"CTU! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"
His voice is sharp enough to cut a man down where he stands, and when the guy makes a run for a backdoor, Jack shuts his mind down and let instinct take over. His feet, snug in the same worn black combat boots he's had for years, go sprinting across the pavement, his eyes locked on the other man's back, gun at the ready, screaming at him to get down on the ground.
"IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN I WILL SHOOT YOU DOWN!"
The shot rings out and all Jack can feel is pain. Hot, searing pain in the back of his left shoulder. He drops and rolls -- onto the shoulder and then turns his head, firing shots off and dropping a hostile, before he snarls and takes off in pursuit of the original one. This time, he catches him, and fires a shot into the back of his leg, blood splattering against the pavement as the man hits the floor. He's on him in a second, fist on the neck, turning him over, and slugging him, hard, in the face.
"I told you to get down," he growls out, before he yanks the terrorist's hands around and handcuffs him, looking up at the other agents. "Get him out of here, call CTU and have them prep holding two for a full interrogation. I'm doing this myself."
The other agent looks at him. "Agent Bauer."
"What."
"You're bleeding."
Jack glances at the back of his arm, at the hole in his shirt and the blood running down his skin. "That's because I've been shot. I'll get medical attention when I get back to CTU. Get trace on this entire building, and the dead hostile," he wipes away the blood on his skin, wincing slightly.
"Agent Bauer, you should really get looked at by a medic, we can have an ambulance,"
"I don't need an ambulance. What I need is for you to do your job, and follow your orders."
He's being short, tonight, but he's in pain -- even if he won't show it -- and his body is telling him that he needs sleep and a sandwich. But as he rubs at the wound in his shoulder, knowing he's about to get another scar and another visit with the medic back at CTU's hands, he smiles to himself for the briefest of moments, before his face goes cold again. He's not done. He still has work to do. He'll push on, past the pain and the exhaustion, save the day, and then he'll save the country all over again, because one thing is certain.
The days never end.
fin.
comments welcome.
Title: Perfect Soldier
Fandom: 24
Character/Pairing: Jack Bauer
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, mild violence.
Disclaimer: Jack Bauer isn't mine. I'm not making money off this. It's just for fun. I'll put him back when I'm through. Link to the table is here.
Some people call him a freak. Some people call him a murderer. Some people tell him he's a warrior, that he's a good man, that he's saved the lives of many people and that the country should practically worship him. Perhaps make him the President, since he's saved the lives of at least the last three.
Jack Bauer doesn't listen to them, because it's not in his nature to take credit for what he's done. He's a soldier. A trained machine, crafted by his service in the Army, then in Delta Force, where he became a weapon used for kills that the rest of the world never needed to know about. Jack believes that if CTU does their job right, nobody will hear about it. Nobody will hear about him. When they say his name on the news, or when he reads the blurb in the Times that reports of the arrest made in that terrorism case, they've messed up. Because they're supposed to be hidden.
CTU is the red headed, bastard stepchild of the CIA.
The kid that's rough around the edges. The kid that gets into fights and lands in the principal's office on a once-a-week basis. The CIA can have their secret liasons and code words, but Jack and CTU prefer big guns and bigger manhunts and car chases.
Jack didn't used to be this way.
Once upon a time, he was a young boy, who liked to surf in the Pacific off of Santa Barbara, who got into squabbles with his older brother, Graem, who listened to his dad because they were a family of three and his mom was long gone. That was when he was seven. When he grew up, the lines started to form in the sand. Dad wanted him to work for BXJ. Jack joined the Army instead.
To become that soldier.
That soldier inside is the man who sits awake at the desk in his office, ignorant of the fact that the majority of his team has gone home. It's just after three in the morning, and while most of his agents are home with their families and their loved ones, in bed, Jack is pouring over data reports, intel, trying to find the missing piece that's been running from him for days. He knows it's there, and he's going to find it if it kills him or he loses four extra hours of sleep a night in the process.
When he does find it, just after three-thirty, it's a quick placed phone call to round up the troops and call in the boys. Chloe runs tactical from CTU while Jack grabs an H&K USP Compact and heads for the massive black SUV parked in his space outside the building. Bullets are loaded into the weapon, his vest is strapped on, and his mind is set on one goal.
Get the target, at all costs. Complete the mission.
Nevermind that it's the middle of the night in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. Nevermind that he hasn't slept well in days, up for hours at a time searching, digging, hunting for answers amidst the endless swirls of data, paperwork, files and photographs. He hasn't eaten more than half a bag of Doritos in fourty-eight hours, and has probably downed two or three cups of coffee.
He can't quite remember. It doesn't matter, right now. Jack Bauer has a mission and an objective, and that is to get the target. His mind is set. The gun is loaded. He will not be stopped.
When they reach the target location, a warehouse a few miles from the Santa Monica Pier, he screws the silencer on the end of the weapon and then ducks out of the SUV. It's a soft entrance, which means sneaking over the fence instead of kicking it down, finding an open window instead of busting through the door with a ram. He's running point. There's an agent behind him. All of this work, all the long hours, is about to pay off.
"CTU! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"
His voice is sharp enough to cut a man down where he stands, and when the guy makes a run for a backdoor, Jack shuts his mind down and let instinct take over. His feet, snug in the same worn black combat boots he's had for years, go sprinting across the pavement, his eyes locked on the other man's back, gun at the ready, screaming at him to get down on the ground.
"IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN I WILL SHOOT YOU DOWN!"
The shot rings out and all Jack can feel is pain. Hot, searing pain in the back of his left shoulder. He drops and rolls -- onto the shoulder and then turns his head, firing shots off and dropping a hostile, before he snarls and takes off in pursuit of the original one. This time, he catches him, and fires a shot into the back of his leg, blood splattering against the pavement as the man hits the floor. He's on him in a second, fist on the neck, turning him over, and slugging him, hard, in the face.
"I told you to get down," he growls out, before he yanks the terrorist's hands around and handcuffs him, looking up at the other agents. "Get him out of here, call CTU and have them prep holding two for a full interrogation. I'm doing this myself."
The other agent looks at him. "Agent Bauer."
"What."
"You're bleeding."
Jack glances at the back of his arm, at the hole in his shirt and the blood running down his skin. "That's because I've been shot. I'll get medical attention when I get back to CTU. Get trace on this entire building, and the dead hostile," he wipes away the blood on his skin, wincing slightly.
"Agent Bauer, you should really get looked at by a medic, we can have an ambulance,"
"I don't need an ambulance. What I need is for you to do your job, and follow your orders."
He's being short, tonight, but he's in pain -- even if he won't show it -- and his body is telling him that he needs sleep and a sandwich. But as he rubs at the wound in his shoulder, knowing he's about to get another scar and another visit with the medic back at CTU's hands, he smiles to himself for the briefest of moments, before his face goes cold again. He's not done. He still has work to do. He'll push on, past the pain and the exhaustion, save the day, and then he'll save the country all over again, because one thing is certain.
The days never end.
fin.
comments welcome.