Hi, everyone! I know I haven't posted anything in a ridiculously long time. My 24 Muse likes to take long hiatuses, I guess. I've been working on this one on and off for a while, and have finally gotten it to where I'm pretty happy with it. It's a Jack/Audrey piece (of course!), but from a somewhat different viewpoint. After Season 6, I was not a big fan of Heller's. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to understand his point of view, and this story popped into my head. So here's the first chapter - please read, enjoy, and let me know what you think! Also, I want to give a BIG thank you to Joe's Girl for beta reading for me, and for agreeing that "unamused" is a word, whether it actually is or not. :)

They tell me there is nothing physically wrong with my daughter.

The drugs that were in her system are gone, thankfully not designed to have long-lasting effects. Scans of her brain show that there is no swelling or damage. Her heart is strong, her lungs and other organs are all doing their jobs at peak efficiency. Beyond a few bruises and cuts, which are already mostly healed, she is a healthy woman. Normal.

And yet, they cannot tell me why she hardly opens her eyes, or why she can't focus on anything when she does. They cannot tell me why she barely speaks, or why she can't sit up and smile at me. They cannot tell me how long I should expect her to be like this or the likelihood that she will come out of it.

They cannot tell me what is wrong with her.

And so they cannot tell me how to fix it.

Audrey sleeps for days at a time. If I didn't know better, I would say she is peaceful. Her face betrays no signs of the torture she suffered, or the fear she must have experienced. She shows no signs of the months she must have spent hoping, praying someone was coming for her. I cannot bear to think about it too closely, or the anger overtakes me.

The anger with myself is the worst – that I didn't do more, that I didn't insist more was done, that I believed it was the truth when they told me she was dead. A father should feel these things, shouldn't he? I should have felt she was still alive. And I didn't. And I failed her.

But when I'm done blaming myself, there's also a healthy dose of anger reserved for someone else. It's anger for a man I used to trust with my life; a man I now hold responsible for Audrey's situation. A man whose life I would happily take if it meant getting my daughter back.

Audrey has a nurse, Amanda, who comes in every day to check on her, and takes care of all her medical needs. She makes sure she is getting the proper nutrition and fluids. She takes care of changing the sheets and personal hygiene.

She is a cheerful woman, and the entire time she's in the room with Audrey, I can hear her chattering away to her. I don't think what she's saying is of any great consequence, but she does it every day, nonetheless. In fact, she encourages me to do the same. She says I should talk to her whenever possible, that maybe Audrey can hear me, that maybe it will help spark something in her.

I've tried. But it seems that most of the time when I sit by her bed, I'm rendered mute. I take her hand, and start talking, but as I look down on her, all I see is my little girl with the pigtails and easy smile, and I stop talking and simply stare.

I kiss her hand and start praying instead. To which god, I'm not sure, but my hope is that someone is listening.

To say Audrey does not speak at all is not entirely accurate. She mumbles things occasionally, sometimes in her sleep and sometimes in the rare moments when her eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling without seeing. Most of the time, I can't make out the words. I've heard "dark" and "please" and "leave," but even those are not entirely clear. And since these words are accompanied by agitation, I'm usually working on calming her down, murmuring softly to her until she sighs and is still. I don't have the luxury of studying what she's saying.

There's only one word she says that I can make out clearly. One name. She says it without becoming upset or looking as if she's in pain. She says it like a plea.

And it happens to be the one name I never want to hear again in my life.

I've hired a psychologist to evaluate Audrey. Dr. Arthur Jensen comes highly recommended, and I've heard he is as discreet as he is successful, which suits me just fine. He arrives in the afternoon, and I tell him a little bit about Audrey's situation before leading him up to her room. I hover at the foot of the bed while he evaluates her, but then he politely but firmly asks me to wait downstairs. I want to argue with him, but I also want him to help her, so I leave the room and pace downstairs until he descends. I stop and wait.

"What do you think, Doctor?" I ask. "Can you help my daughter?"

Jensen frowns. "I can try, Mr. Heller, but I'm not going to lie to you, this will not be easy. She's extremely non-responsive. "

I'm suddenly irritated. "Yes, I know that, Doctor. The question is, can you help her?"

He nods. "We'll start tomorrow."

It's been two weeks now since Dr. Jensen started working with Audrey, and much to my frustration, there has not been much progress. He keeps trying to remind me that these things take time. But this has already taken too much time. Too much of my daughter's life has been lost, too much time has been taken from her. She deserves more than this, after everything she's been through.

I've been standing in the doorway for several of Dr. Jensen's sessions. He has tried to get her to respond with various techniques, but beyond blinking and moving her hand occasionally, there has been no change. Today, as it is a day when her eyes are actually open, he is trying to prompt her to speak by showing her some flashcards. He's been holding them up, patiently repeating the word that's on the picture. But Audrey stares blankly. The doctor glances over at me.

"You say she has spoken, right?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes, she has."

I don't tell him what she's been saying, though in all honesty I doubt the words I've managed to piece together would be much help. And the one word I do understand cannot help her. Ever. Besides, she hasn't said it since the doctor started working with her, and I hope that means she's forgotten about it.

"Is there anything in particular you can remember that triggers her to speak?" he asks me.

Ask her if there's anything you can do for her. Ask her if she needs anything.

"No," I answer. "Nothing in particular."

"Is there someone she responds to at all?" he asks.

There's one… But before I can tell him "no" and deflect the question, Audrey turns her head toward the doctor.

"Jack," she whispers. Dr. Jensen glances down at Audrey and then at me, clearly surprised. He looks back down at the bed.

"What was that, Audrey? What did you just say?"

"Jack," she repeats, more clearly this time.

My heart sinks.

Dr. Jensen has asked me to meet him at his office. I think he hopes I will be more receptive to what he has to say if I'm not in my own house. So I leave Amanda chatting with Audrey, and arrive at the doctor's practice at the appointed time. His assistant shows me into his office, and lets me know that the doctor will be with me in a few minutes.

I don't wait long. I hear the doctor say goodbye to a patient, and then he walks into his office.

"Mr. Heller," he says with a smile, shaking my hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, Doctor," I say.

"I asked you here to discuss Audrey's case," he tells me, settling behind his desk.

"What about it?" I ask, though I can guess what he wants to discuss. He's tried before, and the conversation didn't go well.

"I know you're aware that there hasn't been much progress," he says. "I know it's frustrating you as much as it is me. Probably more."

I nod. "I just want my daughter to get better."

Dr. Jensen nods in return. "I know that. But there's something preventing her from coming back. Or rather, there's something she's missing."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

He takes a deep breath. "Mr. Heller, I know we've discussed this before, but I feel I must address it again. Audrey keeps saying the name 'Jack' now in almost every session of ours. In order to move forward, in order to help your daughter I need to know – who is Jack?"

I stiffen immediately, but attempt to remain calm. "I've told you already, he's no one."

Dr. Jensen doesn't look surprised at my resistance. In fact, I'm sure he expected it, given our last conversation on the subject.

"Mr. Heller, Audrey thinks differently. If this man, Jack, is important to her, then you need to tell me about him. Find him if you can. Because if he can help Audrey in any way–"

I stand up, glaring at him.

"He most certainly cannot help Audrey. Ever. He's the reason she is how she is. So if you can't come up with another idea of how to treat my daughter, if this is your only suggestion, then I will find Audrey another doctor."

And before he can respond, I leave his office, storming past the surprised receptionist. Only after I'm outside do I take a deep breath, and realize I'm shaking. I don't know if it's because I'm certain about not taking the doctor's advice…or because I'm not.

Dr. Jensen is back today, against my better judgment, working with Audrey. After our conversation, he called and apologized, and assured me he hadn't run out of ideas yet. But I'm wary of him now, and I've taken up position in the hallway where he can't see me, hoping that maybe today is the day something gets through to her, anything. Please, baby, I silently beg, please, I need you get out of this.

He's trying to get a response from her with various stimuli, but I can tell even without looking there's little progress. He tries for half an hour, but there is no change. There is silence for a few moments, and I assume he's packing up, getting ready to go. But when I glance through the door, he's leaning close to her ear, and I hear him say in a low voice,

"Audrey, who's Jack?"

That son of a….I burst through the door, ready to pull him away from her. He stands up, obviously surprised to see me, and I grab him roughly by the lapels of his sport coat.

"I thought I made it quite clear the other day that that name is not up for discussion with her. Or did you not understand that?"

He shoves me back, breaking my hold on him.

"Yes, I understood you just fine. But Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, if you know where this Jack person is, then you'd better take your head out of your ass and find him. Because he might be the only person who can help your daughter."

"Get out," I say, with barely controlled anger.

"You're not helping her by–"

"Get. Out."

Jensen looks at me for a moment, and then grabs his bag, and starts walking toward the door.

"She's not going to get better until you let her face whatever makes her say one man's name over and over again," he says before disappearing through the door. I stand rigid until he's gone.

I sit down next to my daughter and take her hand.

"Audie," I whisper, leaning over her, trying to catch her eye. "Audie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to come back to me, sweetheart. Just come back to me." She seems to hear me, and actually turns toward me slightly. I hold my breath.

"Jack?" she whispers, uncertainly. I sigh and lean back. Audrey closes her eyes, and in a few minutes, I hear the steady breathing that indicates she's asleep. I place her hand back on the bed and walk into the hall. Halfway to my own room, I turn and hit the wall hard with my open palm.

"Goddamn it."

I stand like that, with my hand stinging, weighing my options. But I know there's really only one. There's always only been one, as much as I've tried to convince myself otherwise. I walk into my room, pick up the phone, and make the call I swore I'd never make.

And old contact of mine at the DOD picks up the phone.

"Find him," I say.

I'm told he now works at a private security company, as a special advisor. Frankly, I'm a little surprised at how easy he was to find, and even more surprised that he's still in the area. I assumed he would have either disappeared again or would have ended up a thousand miles away, not in an office building doing something so…mundane. I consider sending one of my staff to approach him, but I know that's not really an option. I will have to go myself.

The security company is located in an unassuming building, and no one passing by would know what the company does. Even the name, Hackett Enterprises, does little to shed light on the business. But when I walk into the cool marble lobby, it is clear the company is synonymous with security, power, discretion. I can see what must have attracted him.

I walk up to the front desk, where a young woman is busy answering phones. She looks up at me, taking in the two security men who are standing at a distance behind me, but who are still clearly mine.

"Can I help you?" she asks. That she doesn't recognize me is obvious, and something I'm not used to much anymore. It would make this easier if she recognized me.

"I'm here to see Jack Bauer," I say, in a tone I hope makes it clear there is no other option but to see him. But the girl is unimpressed.

"Do you have an appointment?"

I look at her incredulously, and just as I'm about to ask her if she thinks the Secretary of Defense needs an appointment, a man comes striding toward me from a bank of elevators.

"Mr. Secretary," he says with a smile, holding out his hand. I shake it. "Michael Logan, I'm the vice president of Hackett Enterprises. What a surprise, we didn't know you were coming. What can I help you with?" This is the response I was looking for.

"Mr. Logan," I say, "I'm sorry to interrupt your day, but I need to speak with an employee of yours. Jack Bauer."

He looks concerned. "Jack? What is this regarding?"

I don't answer his question. "It's important that I speak with him," I say as pleasantly and firmly as possible. Logan looks at me for a moment, glances back at my men, and finally nods.

"Come with me."

We step into an elevator, and make our way up to the top floor, where we walk out into a plush carpeted hallway. Large offices extend on both sides, and at the end there is a large conference room where I can see several men and women are gathered. Half way down the hall, Logan turns to me.

"Please wait here, Mr. Secretary, I'll go get him."

Logan walks into the conference room, and as the group looks up, I finally see Jack in profile. Logan speaks to him, and as he gestures to me, Jack turns his head and catches my eye. His expression hardens. For a minute, I'm forced to consider what I might have to do if he refuses to see me, but then he puts down what he's holding, and follows Logan out of the room and down the hall. As he approaches, I nod at him and extend my hand.

"Jack," I say. But he only stops in front of me and stares coolly. I hold his stare. Logan looks between us, nervously.

"Gentleman," he says, stepping to the right and opening the door there. "If there's something you need to discuss, please feel free to use this office as long as you'd like."

My eyes leave Jack's and I look at Logan.

"Thank you," I say and turn and walk through the door. I know Jack will follow me. As angry as he is, he wants to know why I'm here. I turn toward him as the door closes.

"Jack, than–" I start, but he cuts me off.

"What do you want?" he asks, glaring. I have somehow forgotten how direct he can be, how he doesn't want things couched in pleasantries like most people do. I answer as clearly as I can, with words I'd hoped I would never have to say.

"I need your help."

Jack actually gives a short laugh, though his features indicate he's anything but amused.

"Go to hell," he responds, already turning on his heal.

Before I lose him, I'm forced to use my ace.

"It's Audrey," I say quietly.

That stops him, and he turns back. He doesn't say anything, but he's not walking out the door yet either. I have his attention.

"She's not doing well," I explain. "Her condition isn't much better from…from the last time you saw her."

I watch his reaction carefully, and maybe the most surprising thing is that there is little reaction at all. I'm puzzled until it suddenly hits me that this is not news to him. He knows. He knows exactly how Audrey is. How, I have no idea, but his continued presence in the area is now very clear. Is he paying one of my staff to give him information? Or is he simply slipping in and out of my house unnoticed, as I only know too well that he's capable of doing? Either thought infuriates me and my fists clench. I would like nothing more than to hit him at this very moment, but the knowledge that I need his help overrides the impulse.

If he notices my reaction, he gives no indication.

"What is it you think I can do?" he asks finally.

These are the last words I want to be saying to this man, this man who's responsible for everything my daughter's been through.

"Just…come see her. Her doctor seems to think your presence might be helpful, that she might respond to you."

"Why?"

He's really going to make me say it, and the urge to hit him is even stronger this time, particularly since I suspect he already knows why.

"Because," I answer in a measured tone, "One of the only words she'll say is your name."

It may be my imagination, but I think I see a flash in his eyes. He looks at me carefully. I know he's studying me, trying to figure out if I'm tricking him in some way, if there's more that I want and I'm using Audrey as an excuse. I look back at him with a level gaze, and he at last nods and turns toward the door. I have as much confirmation of his cooperation as he's willing to give me.

"When?" I ask as he's reaching for the knob.

"Soon," he replies. He's already stepping out the door.

"Jack," I call out, "Thank you."

He turns back toward me. "I'm not doing it for you."

I nod. "I know."

It's been a week since I spoke with Jack, and still he hasn't shown up at the house. And I fear that Audrey is getting worse. I've barely seen her with her eyes open this week.

This is not something I'm used to, waiting for someone else to make a move. If I thought I would get somewhere by going down to Hackett Enterprises and dragging him here, I would, but I know better. I didn't trust him once, and it nearly cost me and my daughter our lives. He will come if he said he will.

So I wait. And Audrey waits.

Two more days have passed, and I'm seriously reconsidering my decision not to contact him, when there's a knock on the door. It is early evening, and Amanda has just left for the day. I get up from the book I am reading, assuming that maybe she left something in the house. But even as I think that, I know that cannot be the case – Amanda has a key and wouldn't bother knocking.

When I open the door, Jack is standing there, still in his suit from work. He looks at me with something akin to loathing, and I imagine I'm giving him much the same look back.

We stare at each other, neither willing to make the first move to acknowledge the situation.

"This is not an invitation back into her life," I finally tell him. He considers me, and then nods, stepping toward the open door. I put my hand firmly on his shoulder as he attempts to step past me.

"It's not," I insist.

Jack looks down at my hand, and then up at me. I understand he's just barely controlling himself from shaking my grip loose.

"Understood," he grits out.

I drop my hand, and step aside.

I follow Jack up the stairs to Audrey's room. He walks into her room slowly, like he did so many months ago, and takes in the scene.

I watch from the doorway as he makes his way to the edge of her bed; he walks as if he's forcing one foot in front of the other. He looks down on my daughter. With his back toward me, I can't see his expression, but his head is bowed, his shoulders drawn together, and it's hard to believe this is the same man who just a few moments ago looked like he wanted to physically move me out of his way.

He draws up the chair near Audrey's bed and takes a seat, his eyes never leaving her. He only stares for several long minutes, and I begin to wonder if he's going to do anything or if he's simply unable to move.

But then he reaches out and gently slips his hand under her hand, closing his fingers around hers.

"I'm here, Audrey," I hear him whisper to her. "It's Jack. I'm here."

I hold my breath.

If I was expecting some kind of miracle, it has not to come. Audrey does not instantly wake to Jack's touch or his words. Her beautiful eyes don't suddenly open and find mine to let me know she's going to be all right. She does not reassure me with a smile.

Jack continues to speak to her in low tones, things I can't hear, and now his other hand is tentatively reaching out to touch her hair. I hear his sharp intake of breath as his fingers tangle through it. I am struck by how natural his touch looks, as if his fingers have finally come to rest exactly where they belong.

Goddamn him.

I want to run up behind him. I want to pull him away from the one thing he wants. If he can't bring her back immediately, then I don't want him to have any part of her. I want him to suffer. I want to rain punches down on him for putting my little girl in this position in the first place. I want to yell that she's mine.

But I don't do any of that.

Furious with myself for thinking it would be this easy, and for letting my hopes rest on Jack Bauer, I turn out of the room. I know I'm leaving Jack alone with Audrey, but I need to pull myself together. In the last few months, this situation has forced me to find a deeper patience than I knew I had, and I realize that causing a scene by Audrey's bedside will not help. And Jack will not harm Audrey sitting next to her. This much I know.

I lean against the wall outside the door, drawing deep breaths. How could I have been so naïve as to think this would work? To believe Dr. Jensen when he said Audrey needed him? Why would Audrey want to wake up for Jack? Why would she want to respond to the man who caused her nothing but sorrow? The man who stole her life? The man who–

My internal litany against Jack is interrupted by a sound in Audrey's room. It's a low, keening sound, and at first I don't recognize it. But when I hear it a second time, I think I know exactly what it is.

A glance into the room confirms my suspicion – with his head pressed against Audrey's shoulder, his one hand still caught in her hair and the other across her abdomen, Jack Bauer is sobbing.

I'm at the bottom of the stairs when Jack comes down. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never guess now that this man had broken down minutes ago. He looks as composed as I've ever seen him, and the expression on his face is one that's carefully constructed to show no emotion. He glances at me as he heads to the door.

"I'll be back soon," he informs me.

Don't bother, I want to say. It didn't work, I want to say. I was wrong, I don't need your help. Don't ever come back. This is your fault. I want my little girl's life returned to her. You did this.

But for some reason, I say none of those things.

Instead, I nod.

The second time Jack visits, Audrey opens her eyes for the first time in weeks.

He arrives on a Saturday, early afternoon, unannounced again, this time dressed more casually in jeans and a button-up shirt. There is several days' stubble around his jaw, and I wonder if he purposely hasn't shaved, or if he's been too distracted to do so.

He's standing on my doorstep, and we are once again in a stand-off. There's nothing I'd like better than to tell him to get the hell off my property, that Audrey is just fine, and she doesn't need him. Ever again.

But I can't. I don't know what else to do, and if there's even a chance he can reach her….

I step aside, opening a space for him.

"You know the way," I say.

By the time I reach Audrey's doorway, Jack has already taken up position next to her. Her hand is already cradled in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Hey," he says softly, leaning forward. "Audrey, it's time to wake up. For me."

Not for you, I want to tell him. None of this is for you! It's only for her.

But I swallow the burning words in my throat. I can't chase him away. Not yet.

"I know you don't like waking up," Jack continues. "I know you think weekends are for sleeping in, but you've been sleeping too long."

A fist tightens in my chest. You don't know a thing about her. But I know this is not true, as much as I want it to be.

And then something happens. As I watch, Audrey's eyes flutter open. I straighten, sure I am imaging it, but I can see Jack sees it too. He's leaning even closer to her, and his hand is touching her cheek.

"Audrey?" he says.

I cannot move.

She turns slightly toward his voice, her eyes unfocused, her expression confused at best. And then her eyes land on Jack's face. She takes him in, and though it may just be my imagination again, I think I see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips before her eyes shut again.

Suddenly, I realize my legs do work, and in a few steps, I'm leaning over my daughter.

"Audrey?" I say, recognizing that my voice is too loud for the room. But I can't seem to control the adrenaline running through me. "Audie, it's Dad."

But she's already gone again.

I sink heavily onto the edge of the bed, staring at my daughter, disappointment washing over me. Am I ever going to reach her?

A movement out of the corner of my eye startles me, and I turn, having somehow momentarily forgotten Jack is in the room. He is placing Audrey's hand back down on the bed, and I think I can detect a slight tremor in him. But he regards me steadily when he realizes I'm looking at him, and then he stands up and walks out.

This time, he does not say anything to me as he leaves.

We both know he'll be back.