If it's not too late for coffee,
I'll be at your place in 10.
We'll hit that all night diner - and then we'll see.
There's a love that transcends,
All that we've known of ourselves...
  – "Coffee", Copeland

Table 12

At this time of the day, Cable's Coffeeshop was slow.  It was early in the morning, a few minutes too early for the pre-work rush but a few minutes too late for the people that came in after the bars closed.  Lauren's shift was just starting and she was in a surprisingly good mood.  She had worked at Cable's for years, ever since her divorce, and what had started out as a temporary job turned into her profession somewhere along the way.  She had perfected the art of the coffee pour, the art of writing an order down in shorthand, the art of making up stories about her customers in the downtime she sometimes had.

Lauren made her way over to the table that had just been occupied by a man and a woman.  She was conscious of the quiet murmurs of conversation in the diner and the beautiful day that was beginning outside.  She welcomed the couple at table 12 in a cheerful voice and wondered what sort of story she could give to them.

The man ordered first.  He had dark, curly hair and chocolate eyes.  Lauren would have to be dead not to notice how attractive he was.  The slight stubble on his face and the cut on his lip only added to his appeal.  He spoke in a clear voice and Lauren knew he was someone who was used to delegating authority.  She subtly checked his hand for a wedding ring and, to her surprise, she saw none on either the man or the woman's hands.

The woman that sat across from him looked tired but happy.  She wore a brown business suit and had hair that looked like it had been straightened but had gotten wet and began to curl again.  Lauren, good at reading people after years of working in a diner, correctly assumed that she was also used to delegating authority but was content to let the man take control right now.

The woman smiled at the man when he teased her about her big order.

Lauren walked to the nearby computer to place their order.  She kept one ear and both eyes on table 12, intrigued by the obvious companionship the two shared and the lack of wedding rings.  A dozen scenarios ran through Lauren's mind for possible stories.  She watched as the man reached out and pushed a piece of half-straightened, half-curly hair behind the woman's ear.  The woman kissed the inside of his wrist and laced her fingers with his across the table.

"You hair is starting to curl," said the man in a voice that made Lauren wonder if maybe he had only known it curly.

"Yeah," sighed the woman, patting the top of her head with her free hand.  "I had Andrea chemically straighten it a few months ago but it's starting to grow out and when I went out in the rain before- " Her voice caught and she took a breath before continuing.  "When I went out in the rain, it got messed up."

"I'm glad it's growing out," the man said firmly.  "I've always loved your curls."

"I know," the woman whispered as she looked out the window.  "That's why I got rid of them."

Silence descended on the table.

Lauren purposely made noise as she walked over to fill their coffee cups.  The woman untangled her hands from his and smiled up at Lauren in thanks.  Lauren was surprised to see her eyes were slightly bloodshot, as if she had been crying earlier.

The man spoke tentatively as Lauren moved away to put the coffee down and clear a table nearby.  She took her time, moving slowly and quietly so she could hear table 12 better.  "Michelle.  Are you ... regretting what you said before?  About agreeing to leave CTU with me?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from the woman the man called Michelle and a quick denial.  "Of course not Tony.  Not at all.  Why would you think that?"

"I guess..." Tony's voice trailed off.  Lauren used the absence of conversation to wrack her brain.  She knew those letters, CTU, knew she'd heard them before.  Her brain flew through random events until it settled on one very bizarre hour she had spent as a man's hostage five or six years ago.  Jack was his name.  He had been trying to save his wife and daughter, been trying to get around being used as a pawn to kill President Palmer - he had only been a Senator then.  She was almost positive he had mentioned those letters when he was on the phone.

The man spoke again.  "I guess I'm still in shock that we're sitting here together.  After all that's happened today and happened between us...me being held hostage and you thinking I was dead and the nuclear bomb and Jen calling and Bill and the divorce and Jack's death and ... we're just beating the odds, aren't we?"

Lauren's eyes widened.  Held hostage?  Nuclear bomb?  Divorce?

Jack's death?

She realized with a start that she hadn't given that man any thought in years.  That had been a rough period in her life and she had all but blocked those few months surrounding that hour from her mind.  Now, she vaguely remembered watching the news that day, remembered how she hadn't been surprised when she heard he had saved Palmer's life.  He had seemed the type that wouldn't stop until he had succeeded.  Lauren couldn't remember if the news had made any mention of his wife or daughter.  Bringing herself back to the present, she was shocked to feel something like sorrow and noticed that her hands weren't quite stable as she picked up a dirty plate and deposited it in the big bucket reserved for clearing the table.

A tear slipped out of the woman's eye and the man reached up and used his thumb to deftly wipe it away.  Lauren was struck by how intimate the moment was and felt like an intruder for eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Don't cry baby," Tony said softly.  "It's going to be ok.  Jack is fine, he deserves an Oscar for his fake death.  We're ok.  I love you."

Lauren's sorrow was replaced by acute relief for the man her life had briefly crossed paths with once.  She idly wondered exactly what had happened today at CTU and knew, that despite whatever the news reported, she would never really know the whole truth.

The woman offered the man a watery smile and sniffled once or twice. "I know," she said.  "These are happy tears.  And... I know what I want to do."

"What do you mean?"

"I know what I want to do," she repeated.  "For work, now that we're leaving CTU.  Do you remember, the first time you came to my apartment, I told you that I always wanted to be an interior decorator but I was saving up enough money to start my own business?"

The man nodded.  Lauren picked up a coffee cup and a knife and put them next to the plate in the bucket.

"I want to do that.  Truth is, before, I was scared.  Scared of going out on my own and failing.  Not having a safety net.  So I found another job and stuck with that.  I told myself I would do it one day but I never really got around to it.  And then we got married and I loved working with you so I didn't really give the interior decorator thing another thought.  And then you went to jail and then you were pardoned and then we got divorced and ... I needed to stay at CTU, at District, because it was comforting.  My world was falling apart but at least my job had stayed the same.  I couldn't leave then, not when it was the one constant thing in my life.  But now..."

Lauren was slowly beginning to piece together table 12's story.  Coupled with her eavesdropping skills, she vaguely remembered another news story that had made waves a few years ago.  Something about a government agent being charged with treason because he had put his wife's life, who was being held hostage, ahead of the interests of America.  Lauren didn't know what had come of that but she would bet her day's tips that the man and woman in the news were the man and woman at table 12.

Their real life story was better than anything Lauren would ever be able to come up with.

The man was speaking.  "Now, I'll be your safety net."

"Yeah," the woman said as a slow smile spread across her face.  "You'll be my safety net."

The man smiled back. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this will all be a dream," he confessed.  "I've seen too many movies to believe this would happen to us."

The woman squeezed his hand across the table.  "It's good to let reality in every now and then, isn't it?"

Lauren walked away to put the bucket full of dirty plates down and take another table's order.  As she walked towards two men in business suits across the room, ready to apply a story to their lives, she glanced back at table 12 and saw the man and woman leaning across the booth to share a sweet kiss.  Her heart filled with hope for the first table in a long table that she hadn't made up a story for.  A favorite quote of hers came to mind.

Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life.

The couple at table 12 were, of what she could gather, government agents with abnormal lives full of nuclear bombs, jail time, being held hostage, and fake deaths.  But right now, they were just another table in an all-night diner.  Just another table, enjoying pancakes and omelettes and coffee in each other's company.  Just another table, another couple, working through their problems because they loved each other enough to care.

The light streamed into Cable's Coffeeshop, signaling the beginning of a beautiful new day.

For Los Angeles.

And for table 12.