Jack Bauer and Assad

  “My lieutenant asked you a simple question.” A man was saying to me. “For what purpose did you come here? Anything you can tell us about the nature of your mission would go at least some way in helping your situation. I had hoped this form of persuasion would suffice. The other is even less pleasant. I know you don't believe me, but I don't beleive you have any alternative, you have to try.”

“Sir, you're wrong there.” I told him weakly. He stepped closer to me and looked straight into my eyes. Which normally wouldn't have been much of a feat. It was right about then I realized I was tied to a chair. He didn't say anything, simply gave me a prompting look with his eyes. “I don't know why, but something tells me I can trust your intentions. I know that the chemicals which are meant to make me burn just make me even less lucid than I usually am. And the truth serum part works a little too well. But if that's what is needed for you to believe me, then I say let's get ON with it.”

He snapped his fingers and two of his people came with electronics. I felt myself being injected with something or other. Then I realized why his face looked so familiar. I couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping my lips. He stared at me like I was already losing it.

“I fail to see anything amusing about this.” He told me in what I took as a heartfelt tone.

“Not amusing sir, familiar.” I replied easily. “I've gone through something like this before, at my own inclination then as now. CTU had slightly more modern methods.” He looked at me like he was studying a fish through a glass tank. “It was more than two years ago, at the hand of someone I respect and honor to this day. He had as much of a desire to get to the truth as you do.” I could see Hamri Al-Assad 's confused face. “Bill Buchannen, the head of CTU, needed to know if I was an ally, an enemy or just a complete lunatic. His job was to fight terrorism and to find the truth...pretty much in equal measure as it turned out. I volunteered for the interrogation as much to fulfill a promise, as to finally get the truth as I know it out into the open, so I didn't really have a problem with it. Once Jack came back from the dead, it was easy to confirm what little I had said about myself. That is, once Bill realized Jack hadn't died. May I rest until these things take a stronger effect before going any further down that rabbit hole? After all, so soon, until you can be SURE it's working, why should any of this be true?”

“I'll let you rest, of course.” The man told me firmly. “But I'm not leaving you alone.”

“As long as my guard is someone more loyal to you than Fyed...” I told him easily. Then I realized what he'd meant. “You are standing guard yourself?” I asked him. He nodded. “Thank you.” I whispered. I let my head fall to my chest.

What seemed minutes later my head was raised, pulled up by my hair, not cruelly, but irresistibly, by someone's hand. It was Hamri-Al. We were alone and it was almost night.

“I won't ask how long I was out. Has it been long enough I cannot possibly be lying to you?”

“I believe so.” He said with an almost sardonic grin on his face. “May we talk more freely now?”

“Something tells me we both can.” I told him quietly. He looked stunned. "I understand. Difficult as it may be to believe, I can see more than most people when talking to them. I could see the reluctance and hopelessness in your eyes, during my interrogation. You didn't see the point, but you couldn't interrupt without being branded a coward and a weakling. I hold you no grudge. It was the wrong question.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” He asked in a firm, slow voice.

“Asking me what I'm doing here and what brought me here was...a little off. My purpose wasn't to come here at all. My purpose was to rescue Jack from his prison. Obviously I can't do that. For one thing I've run out of time. For another I know he was being held somewhere else by people with a more direct connection to his past. Asking me what I could have been searching or aiming for by coming here...was basically a non-sequitur, as HERE was never my goal. I get completely obsessed about such details sometimes. Your lieutenant wouldn't have accepted my answer no matter what answer I'd given. And frankly I wouldn't tell him anything that might hurt my friends. As such and even so, I'm glad to find myself here. No, I am not making that up. If nothing else comes from this, I can spill my mind one last time for the record.”

“Who is your friend Jack?” Hamri-Al asked me.

“Jack Bauer. A man who's been through hell more times than I can count, but doesn't grow sour or hateful. He's served from the front lines a bunch of times, and when people listen to him, things usually turn out better. Then again not everyone knows to listen to him...not always in time anyway. While that sounds like the tag-line for a movie, it's true. He is a fair and understanding man of compassion. I've kept an eye on him from a distance for almost for nine years, and if he's still alive, he'll come back for this fight too.”

“You know what's going on here?” Hamri-Al asked me plainly. "If so, how?"

“Actually I don't have a clue.” I answered. “I just know that if you get to LA, you'll probably be blamed for whatever the heck is going on over there. It will make sense to most of them. Jack will have a much easier time believing you. If he gets close enough to look you in the face, he judges situations based on the people involved in them, not the other way around. And as a result, usually gets to the truth a lot faster. He has a strong tendency to believe the evidence of his own eyes and ears... Most of CTU isn't like that."

I could feel Assad pouring water down my throat and on my hands. Next thing I knew he had cut my bonds and torn up the circuits. “Get out of here, now.” He told me forcefully.

“Allah be gracious to you... And I thank you.” I told him in Arabic. I ran out into the night that had fallen.

“CTU needs to eliminate Assad, that's all there is to it.” I saw President Wayne Palmer at his desk in the Oval Office. I couldn't help smiling. “God knows we're paying a steep enough price to get him.”

“On that much we agree.” I stated, as though in passing.

Everyone jumped. Naturally Tom Lennox demanded to know who I was. I didn't answer him directly. I just stared at the President. “I'm someone who's learned to trust Jack Bauer implicitly. Someone who very soon probably won't be worth listening to at all. Last time I was at CTU, I thought that would be the last time I'd have anything to do with these...situations. I'm here now and I want to stay around until I can figure out what my true last hurrah will be.” I let my eyes drift to Karen Hays. “I don't...want a repeat of last time.”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Karen told me flatly. She turned to Wayne Palmer. “Mr. President, this woman is in large part responsible for keeping us on course and clear-minded at CTU, when Homeland Security tried to take it over. As I understand it she's as much a friend of CTU as can be found and when she says anything at all, I would suggest listening to it.” She turned back to me. “Fair enough?”

For the first time in my memory I actually felt flustered. “I uh, I don't remember how that day ended between us as clearly as I remember just after the nerve gas going off. A couple hours later I left, after something approaching true thoughtlessness spread through the office. Seriously that part I remember as a personal memory. The rest is like it happened in a history book. I wasn't sure we'd ended on good terms.”

“What do you want?” The president asked me bluntly.

“I want to be on-hand when and if things go sideways. I want to hear first hand what's going on, at least for a little while. I'll stay out of everyone's decision making way. I want to be heard if not listened to.”

“Fair enough.” Wayne Palmer answered.

I tucked myself into the corner of the office by the door, and waited.

“Not very many at all.” I stated bluntly. Karen Hayes and Tom Lennox stopped their discussion to stare at me. We were in a hallway, not the office itself. And it was fairly obvious what, besides an answer to his question, needed to be said. “Lynn McGill didn't see the truth of his own situation clearly at all until 20 minutes before he died. And he died a hero. But it wasn't just his part in the situation that needed clearing up. It was the reality of the situation around him, the truth of everything he thought he knew and understood so well. I'm not even sure why, but I do sincerely hope that the proverbial light-bulb will go off in your head while you still have more time than he did to set things right.” I looked from one face to the other. “And to answer your original question, about how many people locked away in Manzanar and other interment camps were thus prevented from carrying out attacks on the United States government or people, the answer is 'not very many at all'. That's why it's considered as great a tragedy as it is.”

It wasn't too much longer that Jack called having escaped from Fyed, and trying to warn both the President and Bill Buchannen that Assad was in fact not responsible for the bombings. Tom Lennox tried to dismiss the report as Jack being susceptible to manipulation after his time in a Chinese prison. Which would have made me laugh at any other point in history.

“That wouldn't make sense.” I whispered. The president put Bill on hold. “If you were going to mess with a person's head, there are far more direct and less risky ways than claiming responsibility for attacks you have nothing to do with.” I clarified a moment later. It didn't matter, they all decided to go ahead with their original plan: a bombing run on Assad's location.

I decided it was wisest to sit on the floor next to a couch in the middle of the room. People wouldn't have to leave the circle to talk to me, and I wouldn't be imposing too badly on anyone. A few minutes after the radio declaration that the target had been destroyed, Karen sat in the couch and looked over at me.

“What exactly is your part in all this?” She asked me in as calm a voice as I could wish to hear.

“Do you mean why do I keep coming back and back to these things?” I replied easily.

“I mean why do you have such a stubborn belief in what's going to happen.” She answered. “Why are you always so convinced that Bill and Jack are correct?”

I smiled faintly. “It's a matter of faith and trust.” I told her simply. “It may or may not have much to do with CTU's record with Jack compared to without him. I've remembered enough of the past nine years to have unswerving belief in Jack. And Bill Buchannen proved three years ago he is, quote 'a fair and understanding man of compassion'. Get either of them to see things clearly, they'll do what is both needful and right, never sacrificing one ideal for the sake of the other.” I felt a shudder. “The next time you talk to Bill, tell him his fair-haired, enigmatic friend says hi, has returned to right one last wrong before she goes non-compos mentos, and will soon have her answers.”

“Of course.” Karen stated reluctantly.

“All that is just to confirm I am who I say I am and still know what I'm talking about. The message is far more to the point and personal. That he and Assad have something in common. Hamri-al Assad is worth listening to right now if I ever was. Please, you'll have to tell him this soon for it to matter.”

“I'm not sure what to make of that.” Karen replied reluctantly. 'But I promise I will tell him.”

“Thank you.” I whispered. “And I don't want a glass of water.” Karen stared at me. “What's wrong, beyond the obvious?” I asked her.

“Tell him yourself.” She stated, holding a cell phone out to me. “You know what to say and why you want to say it. The phone is dialing Bill now. If the message is important enough to have a timestamp, it..”

I held up my hand to take the phone. “I understand.”

“Buchannen.” I heard Bill say from the other end of the line. I didn't spare Karen a glance.

“Bill, it's Sophia. We last met 18 months ago. I'm here to tell you that if I was ever and I mean e-ver worth listening to, Assad is worth listening to now. To explain why or how I know that would take a lot longer than I have right now. Short version: You and he have something in common. Something from what must be three years ago now has been brought to vibrant light and life. You're no longer alone. Karen is with me on this, though she doesn't know the whole story. If this goes too much further south...I'll fade too soon.”

“The internet is a wonderfully manipulative thing, or can be used as one.” I stated briskly. I could tell even Karen was confused at the relevance of my remark. “It links hate groups together, lets them rant, and exchange hate tactics. If you come across one by accident, you can learn all they are planning, without ever being part of the plan. The problem, it would seem, is that knowledge of an attack can equal complict-ness in the strategy. I mean, sure there's a lot of people who drink in almost everything they read on the 'net, whether they actually agree with it or not. Since when did agreeing with any philosophy or doctrine mean you actually had a part in writing it?”

“Okay, you've lost it.” Tom Lennox stated definitively.

“If you think I'm crazy, and thus not worth listening to, at least say it as plainly as I've spoken.”

“You are crazy, and a threat. I don't know where you get your ideas.” Lennox stated firmly.

“I've been crazy since I was 12 years old!” I snapped, fiercer than I'd intended. “That is I've been on a slew of different medications for schizophrenia and I've had whispers in my head for most of my life since my I was in middle school. Imaginary characters that never gone turned off apparently couldn't have any cause or source other than one of the most misunderstood mental diseases of our time. But you get me on my own ground and actually consider that I might know what I'm talking about you'll hear a dreadful sonnet of both war and courage rendered eloquently in music. I don't consider myself particularly informed or educated formally, but I know what my own life has taught me and this is part of it. To answer what I honestly see as a thoughtlessly given challenge, I 'get my ideas' as you call it from watching David Palmer accuse Jack of wanting him dead on the second anniversary of the Drazen mission. Those two became the best example of friendship I've ever seen. Almost as great a piece of evidence was Jack being the only one to think Nina Myers was still a threat the day they were dealing with the Salazars and eventually with Saunders. He was not listened to until after she died. His drug use at the time was an easy reason to doubt his judgment but it was just that: an easy out. If I'd paid much attention at all to the political arena I'd cite Aaron Pierce as being Jack's corollary: perfect sight and a moral compass.” I turned to President Wayne Palmer. “I don't just mean helping you out 18 months ago. Aaron was at David's side through everything I remember of these situations...Back when you were David's chief of staff.”

I took a breath and let everything I had said sink into their ears and minds. I could see they were pretty dumbfounded. “I've been saying for over three years that I need to spill my guts one last time for the record. Until today I thought that meant telling someone everything I know about these, the worst days in Jack's life. I now think it more a 'why do I keep coming back' type of revelation. Well, that part too is now out in the open. I've said all that needs to be said, at least to the people standing here right now. That bit about the internet IS relevant. Although it speaks more to the constitution being a list of suggestions than anything with Hamri-Al.”

I walked to the door of the oval office; and got there just as Hamri-Al Assad walked in. I don't know which of our faces held more shock. Hamri-Al said something in Arabic that I bet translated into 'god save me'.

“Not needful.” I told Hamri-Al easily. “Not because of me anyway.”

“I...how...this complicates things.” Assad stammered.

“Sir,” The President began. “Sophia, anyone want to fill me in?”

“By the look on his face, my friend has the same misconception about our prior meeting as Bill did.” I stated, glancing from Wayne's face to Assad's. “Both have tried to get to the truth of a situation, using what they thought was the only means available. Both have probably spent way too much time beating themselves over the head for the lack of need for such measures. I know Bill said he thought the glazed over look in my eyes was because the interrogation did more damage to my mind than to my body. Well, you now have heard why that wasn't exactly true. My mind was messed up anyway. Those events accelerated my degeneration, but had nothing to do with causing it.” I turned to smile kindly at Hamri-Al. “ As I recall I insisted you make sure I was telling the truth. I even described to you what that stuff would really do to me.” I turned my head back. “Bill can attest, what's meant to make me burn makes me loopy and the truth serum part works too well. But my point is it was not your fault. It was...and remains...my choice. I hold you know grudge and frankly I think it was as close to God's will as anything that's ever happened to me. It's after all because you met me that day, you knew when you got here who Jack Bauer was and that he is someone you can trust, yes?”

Hamri-Al's face flushed. He nodded slowly. “I'm not sure beyond divine guidance, how you knew where to be.”

“That's pretty much what I'm saying.” I told him with a laugh. “Whatever is letting me peek into Jack Bauer's life, from the power-plant on the day of the California presidential primary, through the day David Palmer was shot dead...it has to be as close to divine providence as I...or anyone...have ever known. And to answer what has probably been on the tips of my friend's tongues since the last time I saw their faces. They want to know why I keep coming back specifically where and when I do show up. What could interest me in all of this...bring me out of the woodwork and help me keep it together long enough to do anything? I am asking for confirmation that my motives have been as much a source of speculation as my methods.”

“I have to admit I've been curious about that for a while.” Karen Hays intoned.

“Friendship and trust can be formed under the barrel of a gun. Formed, strengthened or whatever word you want to use. David Palmer and Jack Bauer are one of my three favorite examples of that, darn near universal truth. I'm on my way out of here for more reasons than one. I have one last wrong to right. After that I won't be a burden or a puzzle to anyone...except maybe a psychiatrist. I'll get to CTU...and probably will never leave it.” I turned and smiled at Hamri-Al Assad. “God be with you Sajiq.”

“And you also...my friend.” Assad answered softly.

No one at CTU or the white house ever saw me again.