agirllost | AU Post Season Five

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AU Post Season Five

About two years ago, Jack and Kim Bauer entered Milliways and were changed forever.

Karen and I thought it would be fun (horribly breaky) to see what would happen if they discovered the bar post 24 day 5 canon. More specifically, post day 6 prequel.

Hope you enjoy reading.

POST DAY FIVE

Kim found herself in this place a few days ago. She was confused at first and still a little wary, but she's good at wasting time and that seems to be the only thing to do around here.

A sentient bar, the universe ending outside, it was all a little too hard to believe and yet she'd never been disagnosed as delusional.

She comes downstairs, ruffling her short blonde hair. After that day at CTU, she hadn't wanted long hair anymore, remembering seeing her reflection in the glass while so many people died and --

She twists the ring on her left hand. After finding out about Chris's betrayal and death and Miriam had withdrawn and she'd almost gone to her uncle and grandfather but she knew what her dad felt about them. Instead, she clung onto Barry tighter and when she asked if her dad was okay, he'd lie to her. She knew they were lies because when Barry wasn't looking she'd done research and kept dreaming about those last moments over and over.

But, all of that felt far away here, and though she'd swore herself to Barry, she still misses someone else.

She sits near the window and watches the universe expand and contrast, thinking about how disaster is always on the other side.

[OOC: Warnings for angst, references to violence, and woe.]

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He takes the bowl from her hands, but even as the smell of the soup hits his nostrils and his stomach urges him to devour it as quickly as possible, instead he just stirs it with his spoon for a moment, uncomfortable.

Fuck, what is he doing here? For so long all he'd wanted was to see Kim again, and then he gets his wish and all they can do is pull back into their shells and say things that hurt each other. He can't even be comfortable sleeping or eating with her in the room, and maybe that's because he hasn't had a lot of human contact where someone wasn't trying to inflict pain on him, but it's also because he can't stop remembering her telling him that he hurt her so badly, that he was so much of a danger to her and others that she didn't want to see him again.

He wants his daughter back so badly, but nothing that she said then has changed, really, and he's not sure that there's much left of him to offer her as a father. As much as she couldn't deal with being hurt by him again after she found out he was alive, he's not sure he can open himself up to hearing her tell him that she can't see him anymore again. He's not sure he can open himself up to feeling much of anything again, much less the hurt that that might bring.

But he's stuck here at the moment, and unless he's going to hurt her again by running away he has to stay a little longer. He forces down a few mouthfuls of soup, stopping for a minute when his stomach realizes this isn't something that's likely to make him sick, forcing himself to take it slowly. He doesn't want to wolf it down ravenously in front of her, even if he's tempted to do so.

Idly stirring the soup for a moment, he doesn't look up at her as he whispers, "I'm sorry."

She hears the spoon brush against the side of the bowl and forces herself to pick up the book by the bed and begin reading. She knows that he doesn't want her here and especially wouldn't like her watching him eat. Hell, he was even careful not to touch her hands when she gave him the bowl. The page blurs in front of her but she keeps her focus on words she can't read and a story she has no hope of following.

Another long period of silence passes and she doesn't look up, trying to give him privacy and distance.

When he speaks it's a surprise and she blinks, attempting to clear her vision before looking at him. It doesn't work.

"For what?" She breathes. He could be apologizing for anything, she's not sure he's even talking to her.

"For...for everything," he says. It's vague, he knows that, but he can't voice everything that's going on in his head right now. For making you think I was dead and nearly destroying you. For all the times I've kept my distance from you. For only hurting you since I got here.

His throat is starting to feel tight, and he lifts one hand to rub his face, trying to take a deep breath and turn off his emotions before they can show.

"Everything's not your fault," she says after a moment, letting the book drop to the floor and hesitantly resting her hand on the bed near him. "I - I hurt you, too. And I need you to know that I get it, I...know why you did what you did, I don't...I can't blame you."

He shakes his head, still not looking at her, now almost wishing he still had that long hair to hide behind. It may have been a reminder of where he'd come here from but he's realizing it also made him feel less exposed.

"That doesn't excuse everything I've put you through," he says, his voice starting to fade. Fuck he should just go, and...and do what, exactly? A number of options and he doesn't know what to do with any of them.

"No, but you're my dad, and I can't...I can't lose you again," she whispers.

He's quiet for a long moment before he says, almost to himself, "I'm not sure there's much left to lose."

And that more than anything else shows her the results of his imprisonment. "I think there is," she reaches for his free hand.

He flinches at the touch, but doesn't pull away. He doesn't look at her either, though. "I'm not the man I was, Kim. A lot has changed."

Her eyes widen at his reaction and she pulls her hand back, holding it against her chest. That was so stupid.

"I can see that," she says softly. "But it's been a long time since I really knew you."

"Yeah. But even that man was...someone a lot different."

All of a sudden, the futility and hopelessness of this hits him. Kim told him that she didn't want to see him again, and he's not the man he was then. If he gets out of this place, he'll be back with the Chinese, back to the day-in, day-out routine of torture and submission, and after so long there's no hope of getting out of there, getting home. But if he stays here, then he still won't be home, and he's not sure he can live here like anyone else. He's not sure he remembers how.

His throat is closing; he can't stay here and let her see him break down. It feels like every muscle in his body has tightened up, but he has to move, at least to the bathroom, where he has some privacy. Putting the bowl down on the bedside table, he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the pain as he moves.

Tears slip down her face as she blinks. "I don't care," she rasps, unable to pretend that this isn't affecting her. She watches him move. "Dad, where are you going?"

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, still not looking at her as his eyes are starting to sting and he's not sure he can hold this in much longer. It's not like he can move very quickly though. The best he can do is cover his face with one hand, his shoulders slumped.

"I can't--" Oh hell, his voice is starting to crack.

She feels like someone's stabbed her in the chest. Watching him break down makes it impossible to keep her distance.

She reaches out and holds his other hand, unable to stop herself, needing to know that he is here and trying to make him stay. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I - ," her breathing sounds labored as she tries not to break down entirely.

It takes him a minute, breathing deeply, before he can reply. "It's not you, sweetheart."

Maybe his voice isn't the same, but the way he says sweetheart is unlike anyone else she's ever known. And that hasn't changed.

She nods and curls her fingers around his hand, hoping that she isn't hurting him. "I know. But I'm still sorry."

He gently squeezes her hand for a moment, but doesn't grab on to it like he wants to. "I guess it depends what you're going to do, though."

At least he's responding and she's relieved that he isn't pushing her away. "What do you mean?"

He rubs his forehead again, trying to figure how to put what's in his head into words. "What's going to happen with us when I walk out of this room?" Because if you're going to cut me off again, I'm not sure I can open up just to live through that again.

"I don't know," she whispers, not wanting to think about him having to leave. "I think this is another chance...and I thought I could not think about you but I," she swallows and looks down. "I was upset and angry and hurt but I thought we'd have time, I didn't think you'd vanish again and -- I've been worried."

He nods, heartened a little by what she'd said. But then worrying about him wasn't necessarily a guarantee. "Yeah. But if you still want things to be like they were, maybe I should just leave now."

"Is that what you really think I want?" She looks up at him, letting him the depths of her sorrow. "You're my dad, no matter what's happened...that'll never change."

He finally looks up at her, their eyes meeting, and he tightens his grip on her hand. "I can't lose you again."

She nods and can't put her thoughts into words, knowing that whatever she says won't make things better and could easily make things worse. Instead of speaking, she stands and sits down on the bed, putting her arm around him and leaning her head against his shoulder, feeling the thinness of his frame, and praying that she's not causing him pain.

"I don't want you to leave."

He wraps his arm around her, the movement and the pressure of her arm against his injuries hurting, but he's used to ignoring pain, and this time he has a much better reason to do so. "Then I won't," he says, resting his head against hers and tears coming to his eyes as he realizes that he finally has what he's wanted more than anything else for almost three and a half years.

His voice cracking, he whispers, "I love you, sweetheart."

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agirllost - 2007-02-11 07:26 (UTC) - Expand

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