Flash Ficathon: Day 4

Title: Love Is Watching Someone Die
By: morgaine22
Rated: R, for language (F-bomb!)
Warnings: Character death. C'mon. You know you're curious... But you've been warned.
Prompt: Dirty
A/N: Set at the end of S6, I s'pose. And the title and sentiment for the whole thing is Death Cab For Cutie's 'What Sarah Said'.



Chloe stared at the stark porcelain sink that stood in contrast to the blood stained hands poised above it. Her limbs were still trembling and the sensation of Jack's fading pulse still echoed on her palms. His blood had surged beneath her hand from that gaping bullet hole in a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and fuck, God, why couldn't she press hard enough to stop it? She had put the entire weight of her body pressing into his chest - and she was probably hurting him more but she didn't care as long as it just fucking stopped - until his hand closed over her forearm and the light in his eyes dimmed. And she couldn't let the last thing she did to Jack Bauer was hurt him.

Chloe looked at the streak of blood on the sink handle numbly and retrieved the sponge nearby. She began scrubbing, the flakes of his blood melting into liquid and slowly the feeling of his chest weakening similarly diminished. Now there was burning, raw and throbbing, and she saw her own blood blossoming beneath the sponge, mixing with his. A private satisfaction sparked in her chest. Good. Jack would hate that her hands were scraped raw, that she needed the pain to counteract something she couldn't even acknowledge brewing inside.

She bandaged them later wishing he could help her with the damn wrapping.


* * *


She didn't cry when they told her he was dead. She didn't cry at his funeral when every other person seemed to be. She didn't even cry when they discovered a lockbox he had kept and a note on a padded envelope full of his most personal letters, to his wife when they were younger, to Kim (Return To Sender). 'For Chloe', it said. That he would reveal himself, his weaknesses, his hidden fears and insecurities, only now that he was gone didn't even make her cry.


* * *


She visited his grave only once. She went on a Tuesday. The grass had grown over the mound and the stone protruding from the ground with his name on it was dirty with yellow and brown leaves.

She tried to imagine him under her feet. In a suit. Probably lying on silk. Only the best for Jack Bauer. He lived and died blanketed in immeasurable admiration and love. He couldn't even stay around to, oh, I don't know. Give some of that back. All he did was take, take, take and she just gave, gave, gave. The selfish son of a bitch.

Chloe sank to the ground, her body shaking from the anger. Why had she never said anything. Why didn't he love her as much as she loved him?

Her hands gripped the grass, searching, going deeper, until she found the dirt below and she clawed through the cold earth. Her fingers coated with the filth. Her nails were cracking, sending shooting pain up her arms and still she scratched, dug, helplessly tearing at his selfish fucking grave.

How could he take so much of her and leave?! She hated him. He took everything from her.

He took everything.


* * *


Chloe eased off of Jack at his touch and began to reach for her phone.

"Chloe," his voice gurgled - actually fucking coughed on his own blood - and she froze.

"I have to call for help," she frantically answered. Her chest was imploding with every thunderous pounding and, God, how fast could the paramedics be here?

Jack's face smoothed and his translucent eyes saw through her panic, through the haze of her terror, with clarity. "Just," he breathed and she thanked God she didn't hear him choking again. He sighed. "Just stay a minute."

She would have told him there wasn't time. That her phone was a few feet away and they'd be on their way to the hospital and they'd fix him and everything would be fine. She would have. But his eyes locked her in and the heavy settling of reality rested in her stomach.

Just stay.

She did.

But he couldn't.


.