9:01 p.m.

Dishes.

The dishes she could handle. This? Signing the transcript of her debrief on the events surrounding Marika's death and verifying that death report? Too taxing. It still upset her. Not quite in the same way as it had over 24 hours ago, but it still hurt. It wasn't Jack's fault. It wasn't Renee's fault. It wasn't even really the fault of her job. Necessary? She wasn't willing to go that far.

But sometimes blame is complicated—and unnecessary. Marika was dead, thousands upon thousands of Americans weren't. Maybe that's all she needs to know. She signs the document with a simultaneous sigh and throws the papers on the couch, standing to face the kitchen. Bring on the dishes.

She's really not a neat freak. Structured? Yes. Orderly? Has to be. But neat? Normally she could care less. That is, until a long day at work requires that she find a release. Then neatness is like a therapy. And if there was ever a day for therapy, this would be it. Not like Janice needs therapy. Renee could deal with the psychological consequences of her hellish day, she just requires a release. What was left in the casserole dish she made last weekend for Sunday brunch with her parents now felt the brunt of that need.

A few minutes later she paused after turning the water off. The dishes were washed, now on a rack waiting to be dried. Another sigh crept out. She put her palms on the edge of the sink and leaned against it for support—a moment of rest.

She had gotten a good amount of sleep that afternoon. She hadn't missed a beat when she walked into her apartment—hang up the coat, keys on the end table, grab a water from the fridge, turn on the shower as hot as possible, step in, wash, rinse, grab robe, sweat pants, t-shirt, bed. Next thing she knew it was 8 p.m.

At that point she felt ambitious, so she opened her e-mail and took the faxes from the printer. That's when Marika's file surfaced. Might as well, Renee thought to herself. In the interest of remaining objective while working, she pushed back the thoughts of Jack as she flipped through the mounds of paperwork covered in his name.

She wasn't sure where that was going. That, of course, being her and Jack. But not them as a couple… they weren't one. Were they? Ha! So much for objectivity. That distraction was another reason she decided to take up the dish washing.

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8:54 a.m.

"Thank you Madame President… I'll stay out of your way… I would enjoy that, M'am, but I just want to lay low for now… don't thank me. I appreciate your help…"

She was being nosy, but when Janice called Renee's cell to tell her the President wished to speak with Jack, her interest peaked. And for Renee, curiosity always killed the cat. Larry always joked he was going to sew it on a pillow for her. They had been happy. But mostly professional, even in their private life. Her professionalism had been slightly breeched in favor of more, say, unorthodox measures today. Larry didn't approve of most of her choices, but she (and by she, we really mean Jack) delivered results—results that made it impossible to fire her as an agent. Still, Renee couldn't help but regret that their final hours together were full of her shutting him out. She had to remind herself that neither her efforts nor his death were in vain.

She and Jack were now in the field, final battle fought. Just the two of them. And, you know, about 300 other agents, policemen, firemen, medical personnel, spectators, noise. But chemistry told her it was just them, so why wouldn't she eavesdrop on his call? She stared out over all the commotion as she tried to act oblivious to the fact that he was closing the distance between them, extending his arm to hand her phone back as he did. He squinted a little as he looked her in the eye and then off into the same distance that occupied her sight during his phone conversation.

"The President has personally, formally cancelled the Senate proceedings on my case."

"Can she do that?"

He looked back over to her. Of course Renee would bring up practicality. She was kicking herself for it, too.

"No. But she's got sway over the people who can."

"That's great news, Jack."

He let out one of his deep "yeahs" under a sigh. You know, one of those with an "I guess" tone. A few minutes earlier he had taken another anti-seizure shot, but his breathing was continuously heavy.

Renee mirrored his sigh and began a good fifteen-minute period of silence between them. Okay, it was 15 seconds. But it felt so much longer. Probably had something to do with that stupid chemistry. She realized during this time that, while he was probably close to being nice and ending the silence, he wasn't going to bring up what she would like to hear. Something like, "So you want to get coffee" or "I'm not ready to say goodbye" would be preferable. But so, so unlikely. His response to the 15 seconds of silence would be more along the lines of "well, I've got to get going" or "I should head to the office and be debriefed." She was shocked, embarrassed, and so caught off guard when, just for a second, her thoughts jumped to how she would like to debrief him in an entirely different way.

She laughed at herself. Slightly audibly. Enough to get Jack looking back at her, and enough to calm her nerves to where she could take a little initiative.

"So I want nothing more than sleep right now, but there is no way that is going to happen without some food first… want to grab some…" She had to think for a second… "what time is it even?" she let out with a small laugh and a little nervousness. She wasn't even sure what mealtime they were around. "…breakfast?" She worked really hard at a smile that didn't look desperate or too happy considering the weight of the day from which they were emerging.

"I'd like that" he said with a hint of a nod. "But I really need to get to Kim."

Jack had agreed when Kim left earlier that he would finish up the investigation and that after he saved the world once more he would join her at the hospital. They hadn't gotten a lot of time to catch up during their time, given that he was, as previously mentioned, in the process of saving the world. But he had done his best to make it clear to Kim that wanting to do so really was second to his desire to know her again. It was a balance issue of the past that he clearly still struggled with. Renee did see him struggling with it, though. And to see him doing so only furthered her conviction that she had judged him too soon. If anything, he was all too human.

She knew it and he knew it. And it's why he was more hesitant than ever to let anyone, much less a love interest, in. For Christ's sake, he was a grandfather! That news truly baffled him. Angela was close to a grandchild, but with her it still felt like Kim was just nannying full time. Teri is his granddaughter. It seems a bit Norman Rockwell for a man who spent 2 years completely silent whilst being tortured by the Chinese government … for a man who has seen everything. It still seemed though, for man also looking to start over, a good place to start. He had tried miserably without Kim. He made sure she was safe before he left the country 2 years ago, but vowed not to reenter her life and bring more pain than necessary. In that time he could only hope that she was on a path towards being happy. Tonight he was relieved to find that she was—but that she really wanted him to be, too.

"Oh yeah, of course you do" Renee agreed. She felt ridiculous. Hello? The man is dying of a biological pathogen and you just asked him out on a date.

"Another time?" He looked in her eyes the whole time he said it.

She had completely forgotten about his, um, condition when she offered the invitation. He asked despite remembering the grave diagnosis. She hadn't seen him operate with that much hope all day.

Another small smile came across her face. "Sure." Another pause commenced. It was not 15 minutes this time. "You have my number."

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9:12 p.m.

Yeah, see. No idea where that is going.

Not even an update on the treatment plan.

She came out of remembering their last encounter, stood straight and grabbed a drying towel. The pouring rain was a soothing sound, but a little too quiet and reflective for Renee. She chose a random playlist on her iHome and returned to the countertop.

She heard a knock as she put away the last bowl. Immediately moving towards the door, towel in hand, Renee unchained and unlatched it.

There he was. There that was. That something between the two of them.

Her first thought was that she wished "Dancing in the Moonlight" wasn't filling her apartment at the moment.

She sort of stumbled to a "hey."

"Hi… sorry I didn't call… I was just…" he sighed

She responded playfully skeptical. "In the neighborhood?"

His head was bowed and he nodded, admitting he was caught. Of course he hadn't just happened upon her building.

He looked up. "I figured you got some sleep this afternoon, but the exhaustion wares off... the memories start coming back, haunting you if you let them… The day after is the hardest part."

This time she bowed her head, acknowledging that she was beginning to find these things out.

He, of course, was not immune to this truth. To this pain.

"But," a smile she had rarely seen in the past 36 some odd hours came across his face. "It's nothing a little wine and company… if you want… can't help." He gestured to the bottle of wine in his right hand and used the left to put a hand through his damp hair. She looked to the wine then back up to him.

"You're wrong."

His face fell ever so slightly. "It's going to take a lot of wine," offering a smirk as she opened the door further. "Come in."

"Thanks."

"Are you kidding? You come in the name of red wine, it is my pleasure." She passed him in the front hallway to lead him to the kitchen.

"Nice place."

It is pretty much a loft apartment, with a small bar in between the kitchen and the den, the bedroom separated by a wall but no door.

"Well, it's close to work and affordable, so…" She grabbed the glasses.

"It's neat."

"Yeah, well it's basically one room. So I cook in the living room, entertain guests in the bedroom and end up sleeping in the kitchen— messy just wouldn't work too well."

"I see." He struggled to pop the cork and the two laughed in anticipation. When it gave, Jack sighed. They both knew, though neither acknowledged, that the simple task had taken too much effort on his part. It was a small but painful reminder of his unsure fate. Unsure more so to her than to him since "here's what happened at the hospital this afternoon" aren't usually the first words out of a man's mouth when he comes to your apartment with wine. Then again, not a whole lot about them or their short history was usual.

"there" he let out, exasperated. Jack poured the two glasses and handed one to Renee.

"Thanks."

They waited, glasses sort of hoisted, for someone to toast.

"To the day after" she offered.

He let out a sigh with a smile. "I'll definitely drink to that."

She didn't even know if he was supposed to be drinking. But frankly, at this point, she really didn't care. She was forever done with trying to be Jack Bauer's mom. Though it did cross her mind to one day remember to offer her sympathy to the woman who did have that job, wherever she was.

They both took a sip. As Renee lowered her glass she broke the subtle silence with a weak "that's really good." But really, when she raised her glance to meet his eyes she knew words weren't really going to be appropriate much longer. She and Jack had danced around this enough, already. Their gazes were locked on each other.

So she leaned in and kissed him. Pretty tentatively at first. When he didn't really respond she deepened it, leaving him no choice but to kiss back. He held her head with his wine free hand and they continued. …for 15 minutes. Okay again only 15 seconds, but it again felt longer. And she wanted it to be longer, so she moved to put her glass down on the counter. The movement caused Jack to pull back from the kiss. He stayed so close that his forehead nearly met hers. She held her breath.

"This isn't a good idea," he protested carefully, trying to convey that he had her best interest in mind. She just stared back at him. "You've read my file, but you only know a fraction of what I've done, and you can't want…" The images of every shocking, terrifying and painful thing he had ever been through— worst yet, what he put people through— flashed in his mind.

She interrupted, "that's exactly why this could work."

He continued to look in her eyes, unconvinced. She tried again.

"And, you're Jack Bauer. Since when has a good idea been the best option?"

He laughed and glanced away, staring out of the window at the rain. They both let a few moments pass before looking back at each other.

"Think you've got me figured out, don't you?" he inquired, voice low and raspy.

"Not at all," she replied wryly. They stood there, as if she was challenging him to make the next move.

"Okay."

He set his glass down next to hers intently. Leaning in slowly, he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her surely, though he was still not entirely sure about all of this.