Burnout
by wordsthatfail
Rating: PG-13 for mild language
Characters: Tony, Jack; mentions of Teri, Kim,
Nina and Chappelle
Spoilers: This opens about two weeks post-Day One.
Summary: “It’s only a matter of time,”
Chappelle had said. “Keep an eye on him.”
Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine; the
words are. Please don’t take legal action —
lowly copy editors aren’t worth suing, anyway.
A/N: As always, feedback is love, but be brutal
— I welcome comments and criticism of all kinds.
March 17
The light in Jack’s office is already on when Tony
walks in.
He doubts it’s been off in the ten hours he’s
been gone.
Tony places his briefcase on his desk and shrugs out of
his jacket before heading upstairs. The soles of his
shoes clang against the metal rungs, too loud in the
quiet, nearly deserted space.
He pauses just outside the glass door, gripping the cold
silver handle before swinging it open.
“Jack?”
“Tony.” Jack doesn’t look up from the
reports spread across his desk.
“You’re, uh, in early,” Tony says, eyeing
Jack’s rumpled black button-down.
No response.
Tony presses his lips together. “We’ve got a
meeting with District at eight.”
Still nothing.
“Jack?”
Flat, dull eyes snap from the paperwork to Tony’s
frown. “I know.”
Tony’s jaw tightens. “All right.” He turns
to leave.
April 2
Tony’s just finished keying in a decryption code,
reaching for his coffee mug, when his eyes stray to his
desk calendar.
It’s April second.
It’s been a month.
A month since Super Tuesday. Since Nina — since
—
His eyes almost unconsciously flick upward, to Jack’s
occupied office.
And almost two weeks since Kim left for San Jose.
He feels guilty for knowing this; it’s information
Jack hasn’t exactly volunteered.
But Chappelle had pulled Tony aside when Jack came back
to work the Monday after Teri’s funeral.
“It’s only a matter of time,” Chappelle
had said. “Keep an eye on him.”
And Tony had agreed immediately, though he still doesn’t
know what he’s looking for.
April 19
He finds it two weeks later, just before dawn.
He climbs the stairs at CTU and sees Jack asleep at his
desk, right palm over the handle of his gun and index
finger curled, resting around the trigger.
Jesus.
Tony squints.
Lying on the desk, near Jack’s elbow, is a family
photo.
Cotton-mouthed and eyes on the gun, Tony opens the door
and licks his lips.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?” Jack rasps as his eyes open, bloodshot
and unfocused. He lifts his head, grip tightening on the
weapon.
Then Jack stiffens; he thumbs the safety on and moves his
hand from the firearm and from the desk, and rubs at the
back of his neck.
“Tony — ”
But Tony shakes his head and focuses on keeping his voice
even. “Go get some rest. I’ve got this, all
right?”
He makes sure Jack leaves the gun.
April 20
When Tony walks in at five-thirty the next morning, Jack’s
office is dark and Tony’s extension is ringing.
He hurries to answer and fumbles the receiver before
righting it against his ear.
“Almeida.”
“Tony, it’s Jack.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Tony asks with a
careful nonchalance he doesn’t feel.
He frowns at the silence. “Jack?”
Another pause.
“I’m not — ” Jack’s voice is
quiet, words a little rough. “I’m done.”
“S’all right,” Tony says quickly,
tightening his grip on the handset and hoping like hell
they’re having a conversation about work, and not
—
Focus. Talk.
“Listen, do you need — ”
“I just want the paperwork, the termination package.”
“Jack, are you sure this is — ”
“Yes.”
Tony rakes a hand through his hair. “All right. I’ll
have it over to you in about an hour.”
He hangs up, feeling half-sick with guilt and relief, and
heads upstairs to gather the necessary forms.
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