[identity profile] irony-rocks.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] het_reccers
Fandom Category: 24
Pairing: Renee Walker/Jack Bauer
Fic Title: Water's Edge
Author: [livejournal.com profile] leigh57
Link: http://community.livejournal.com/24_fanfic/327504.html
Rating/Warning(s): R-ish? Because of graphic, vivid memories of rape, without any sugarcoating at all.
Genre: Episode-related, hurt/comfort
WIP?: no

Why This Must Be Read: I cannot believe I never recced this fic here before. I thought I had, and when I realized I hadn't, I immediately went to fix that. Season eight of 24 was riddled with a lot of horrible writing, and one of the biggest horrors was the events of 8.07, where something rather horrifying happened to Renee Walker and the fallout of that was, at best, brushed aside because of the nature of 24's writing and timeline. Please read the author's warnings and take them seriously, and I am normally one that doesn't touch a fic written about the repercussions of rape with a ten foot pole, but this one - oh, it's written gorgeously.

This is wonderfully written. Great prose and wonderful insight into Jack and Renee. The author has got the post-8.07 mood down so perfectly, and ouch. It hurts. It really, really does. But there's also a glimpse of healing in the pain, one that canon never provided us. She did such a great job exposing Renee's emotions and having her deal with the issues, as well as crafting a lovely piece on the nature of her relationship with Jack.




She stayed in the shower for an hour and seven minutes. He clocked it. When she opened the door she stood there for a solid twenty seconds, fiddling with the sleeve of her robe before she said, “Sorry that took so long. I’m gonna get dressed. Do you-” She glanced toward the kitchen, as if trying to remember what people said in these situations. “Need anything?”

Aside from a gigantic fucking eraser to wipe out the past eight hours? “No, thanks. Take your time.”

She vanished down the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind her.

He figured the pacing would only upset her more, so he pushed off his shoes and made himself sit on the couch. A minute later Renee reappeared, wearing pajama pants and a baggy grey sweatshirt that made her look even paler, if that were possible. The bruise on her cheek was raised red and purple, her eyes bloodshot and exhausted.

She walked to the other end of the couch and stopped, retracting her hands into the sleeves of the hoodie. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Renee. Just stop. Please.”

“Stop what?”

He dug his toes into the carpet and said evenly, “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.” She stared at the coffee table. “I almost threw up in there. I should probably-” She swallowed. “Wait.”

“I’ll eat when you eat.” Jack pushed his palms into the knees of his jeans. “Will you at least sit down?”

She sank into the couch and drew her knees into her chest, arms wrapped around them, holding on tight as if . . . god he didn’t know.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Goddammit. Why the hell couldn’t she see that right now this was all he wanted? To sit here on her couch and know that at least for the moment, he could stop it from getting worse.

“I stabbed you, Jack.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” Inflection this time, the phosphorescent flare of hysteria that was obviously still there, stirring under the surface.

“Not to me,” he repeated, firm and quiet. “And I’m fine.” When she didn’t respond for a second he said, “Will you do something for me?”

“Yes.” Her rapid response caught him off guard.

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