knitwitfics

It’s been months since he held a gun, years since he fired one anywhere but the CTU firing range as part or his yearly qualification; routine, like the physical, the psych exam. They don’t ask you to shoot 100% when you’re stationed behind a desk.

He should probably be comforted by the fact that he can’t miss.

This isn’t his revenge to make, but he doesn’t have a choice. No matter how many times Bauer has gone against his orders, yelled at him, worse, just ignored him, there’s no infraction that could make this his own revenge. It’s Saunders’ revenge, and the fact that he’s doing someone else’s dirty work doesn’t sit well with him. He’s gotten his hands dirty before, though it never felt like it at the time, but this feels dirtier, the kind that gets under your nails and won’t come out no matter how hard you scrub. Lady Macbeth, wiping the blood from her hands.

Bauer knows he’s expendable, the ends justify the means, all for the greater good. Bauer knows that Saunders has the power here, has the virus and so has the ability to make President Palmer do his bidding--which is exactly why Saunders is doing this. Bauer knows all of it, Ryan can read it in every stoic line on his face; but he can also read Jack’s eyes, usually so impenetrable, read the fear written there. He’s not sure if that unnerves him more than his orders. Jack never seems scared of anything. The world has flipped upside down, killer has become victim, the fearless the frightened. And the bureaucrat has become the assassin, from pushing paper to pulling the trigger. Giving orders to agents to taking them from terrorists.

This should be a field agent’s job, not his. But then maybe Fate had decided it would be better suited for the man who’d always seemed to loathe Jack to be the one to end his life, the outsider, the suit from Division. As though he’d find it easy, see nothing but another number on a page, another name on a wall. But it’s not. It’s not, and he’s worked with Jack for years, and how the hell is he going to walk back into CTU and face Kim, face Tony, face Michelle, face Chase after this? There should be some way out, some back door, but he can’t see one and they’re running out of time.

He can’t imagine what would be going through his head if their places were reversed, and he doesn’t want to imagine what Jack’s thinking at the moment.

“I’m sorry we let you down, Jack.”

Jack just shakes his head. “Get it over with, Ryan,” he says, trying for steel in his voice, though Ryan can hear it shake.

He pulls back the slide, racking a bullet in the chamber, routine, like his exam at the firing range, only this is a test of a different kind.

“God forgive me,” he whispers, and squeezes the trigger.