5 things that never happened to Tony and Michelle
Author: greyannabel
Title: Could Have
Fandom: 24
Characters/Pairings: Tony Almeida/Michelle Dessler
Rating: PG/PG-13, perhaps.
Word Count: 6,274 (a little bit long, I know)
Summary: It's the details that change everything. Five different scenarios that could have resulted in a happy ending for Tony and Michelle.
Warnings: spoilers here and there. Not bad, though.
Author's note: The title, as well as the titles for each part, is from the poem "Could Have" by Wislawa Szymborska. These parts are all unrelated and in chronological order.
Could Have
I Because it was raining
It’s raining. Her hair is a damp mass, plastered to her face, and she fidgets with her purse, with her hair, with something constantly, impatient.
The train is delayed, but there is nothing new in this. What’s new, however, is the job interview she has to get to, somehow, and if the train doesn’t get there soon, she will miss her flight and she won’t be in L.A. on time - she stops the thought here, focusing on the sound of her heel instead as it clicks monotonously against the platform, the sound a little dulled because of the rain.
She needs this job. She needs a reason to get the hell out of New York and the job at CTU seems like the perfect opportunity. She misses L.A.; she misses the heat and the sun, and New York is just a bunch of bad memories by now.
On the bad days, she asks herself why she was ever naïve enough to move across the country for a man. Scott certainly wasn’t worth it. Despite of all his kind words of how they would build a life together, he never hesitated to push her out of his life as soon as she arrived. She has already wasted a year in New York; she has wasted a year on rain and a boyfriend with serious commitment issues.
On the good days, she just focuses on change. Those are the days where she can shake her head and chuckle at how different she is from the Michelle she was a year ago. More mature. More ready to tackle the world. Definitely less blue-eyed. She gave up on her ambitions because she thought love was more important, thought it played a greater part in the big picture. But now there is no love left in her heart, and all her ambitions are back, urging her to run as fast as she can so she won’t end up stuck forever. That’s why she wants this job. It’s been a year since she finished university, and she fears that the world has changed so much in that year that she is too lost to ever regain her footing.
But this job, in L.A., working for the government, would be perfect. If the train would only get there, she thinks, glancing at her watch. She sighs. Soon, it’ll be too late and she will have missed the chance. Probably her last chance. She knows she should’ve taken a cab, but that was Scott said, and for some reason, she felt the need to establish once and for all that she knows how to take care of herself.
She is paying for that defiance now.
Another train arrives and departs again, and she finds herself desperately wishing that she had brought an umbrella. If the train doesn’t get there in a few minutes, she will have to walk back to the apartment (back to Scott, but she shakes that thought off) in the rain.
How she hates the rain. She steals another glance at her watch and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has stopped. It’s too late. There’s no way she would be able to catch her flight now. Her heart clenches and she forces herself not to cry. She stands there for a moment, her clothes drenched and her dreams ruined, just staring into the air. Minutes pass and she doesn’t move, and then she hears the sound of a train pulling in, and she forces herself to look away, the irony too bitter right then.
There will be other opportunities. She watches people bustling in and out of the train, stressed and in a hurry. That should’ve been her. But it isn’t. She turns away when the doors close, the whole thing a little too symbolic for her.
And that’s when she hears someone curse loudly close to her. A man, angry-looking but undeniably handsome with dark brown eyes and dark hair, is standing in front of her, looking at the train as it drives by. From the way he looks and his heavy breathing, he must have run to catch the train. And missed it.
“Missed the train?” she asks him then, not sure why she is talking to a cursing stranger on a train station when it’s raining and she really should be on her way back, trying to book another flight and getting to L.A. as quickly as possible. But perhaps it’s because the man is in the same predicament as her and looks just as frustrated as she knows she must look.
He looks at her then, turning his attention to her for the first time, taking in her appearance without missing any details. She thinks she has to look dreadful. Her coat is soaking wet and she can feel the fabric of her dress cling to her body underneath it. Her hair is a mess as well, and she is willing to bet that she has mascara smeared all over her face.
But he doesn’t appear to mind much. He just gives her a small smile, though he still looks a little pissed off.
“Yeah. Missed a whole lot more than that actually,” he says then, and she tries not to notice just how attractive he is. Being a little too busy noticing stuff like that is exactly what got her here anyway. “And so did you, I’m guessing,” he interrupts her train of thought, and she remembers to nod just before he looks like he loses his patience with her odd behavior.
“It was the rain,” he tells her suddenly, and her brows crinkle as she tries to make sense of that sentiment. “It was because of the rain that I missed the train,” he clarifies. “What about you?”
She has no idea why he wants to make small talk right now. But she realizes that she should start moving, and she points to the stairs. “I really need to get back.”
He looks a little lost at that. That’s when she makes an impulsive decision, mostly because she can’t help but think of her grandmother’s words (“sometimes, Michelle, when a door closes, a window appears”). “Do you have to be somewhere right now?” she asks him.
He glances in the direction where the train just drove off. “No. Not right now, I guess.”
She begins to walk and he follows her. While walking up the stairs, she answers his earlier question. “I think I missed the train a year ago.” He just looks puzzled at that, but she doesn’t elaborate. When she has reached the final step of the stairs, he suggests coffee and she smiles brightly, in spite of feeling a bit cold and very tired.
She has no idea who he is, but for the first time in a year, she doesn’t really mind that the future is uncertain. She looks at him again, noticing that he is only slightly taller than her, and that though it’s mostly the beautiful brown eyes and the dark hair that makes him look handsome, it’s the smile that makes butterflies flutter inside her.
“I’m Michelle. Michelle Dessler,” she stops in the middle of the street, holding out her hand, and he takes it, touching her with a hand that feels cold and clammy because of the rain. But his grip is firm, and she thinks his touch feels nice anyway.
“Tony Almeida. It’s nice to meet you.” And then she lets go of his hand, walking beside him. They don’t talk that much because the rain drowns out most attempts at conversation. She doesn’t really mind right then.
Right now, she can’t help but think that it’s because it was raining that she feels like smiling for the first time in a while.
II It could have happened
“You’ve spent the past few months pushing me away, Tony,” she tells you, and though you hear and understand the words, part of you doesn’t want to hear or understand.
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
You haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She left you and whenever you’ve tried to contact her, she has told you to leave her alone. She hasn’t picked up the phone. You doubt she has even bothered to read your emails. And when you have knocked on her door, she has pretended not to be home even though you could hear her inside, walking back and forth, indecisive.
So it makes no sense that she is here. It’s Christmas and you are at your parents’ house, prepared to celebrate Christmas without Michelle for the first time in three years. But here she is. Of course your mother opened the door for her and invited her inside; she has always liked Michelle more than she has liked you. At least that’s what you used to think until you saw the way your mother frowned when you told her that Michelle had left you. At that moment, you thought she was willing to do anything to protect you from getting hurt.
But you are hurt and you are still hurting. Seeing Michelle there in front of you, looking insecure and lost, you fight the need to move closer to her and take her in your arms. She has left you. Maybe she’s there to drop off divorce papers. But there would be no reason for her to do that on Christmas, and you know she would never be that evil. Whenever she has hurt you, it has always been unintentional. Her love has always mirrored yours.
“It’s Christmas,” she answers simply, and you frown and notice the way she toys with the small paper bag in her hands. You vaguely consider that it might be a present for you, but you push the idea away. You haven’t bought her a present, anyway.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. The Christmas lights and the fact that my dad’s dressed like Santa right now kinda threw me for a loop at first, but then I remembered the date,” you reply, knowing that it comes out less sarcastic than you wanted it to, and you probably just sound confused. “What I can’t figure out, though, is what you’re doing here.”
She is about to reply, but you cut her off. “Don’t just say it’s Christmas. I want a real reply.”
That makes her look angry, and you think you prefer it when she looks angry instead of when she looks like you’ve broken her heart.
“When,” she begins, but hesitates, and you realize this isn’t one of the times where impatience will get you an answer from her. So you look at her, trying to look like you have all the time in the world. “When you went to prison,” she says then, and you don’t like where this is going, but you force yourself to not break eye contact with her, “I thought I would have to celebrate Christmas without you. It seems stupid to spend Christmas without you when I can celebrate it with you.”
You don’t have an answer for that.
“I can spend Christmas with you, can’t I?” she asks then, sounding insecure again. “I’ve… I’ve bought you a present,” she offers, and you find it unfair that she is the one asking for your forgiveness, your acceptance, when you are, as she pointed out earlier, the one who pushed her away.
“Sure, Michelle,” you try not to let the hope be too evident in your voice, hope that this is more than just because she doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas, but she knows you so well, and you’re sure she can see right through you. “Merry Christmas.” You smile sheepishly and she smiles back, looking at little more relaxed now. You want to make excuses and explain that you don’t have a present for her and that you’re not sure your parents will accept her presence, but her smile stops you from saying those things.
Instead you take a few steps closer, until you are almost touching her. That’s when you extent your hand, gesturing to the paper bag she is awkwardly holding. “I’ll put it under the tree,” you say, and she hands it over, following you with her eyes as you move to the fake Christmas tree and pull out a shiny, square package from the bag and place it under the tree.
Then you go to her again, and this time when you extend your hand, she immediately reaches for it and neither of you let go right away. “Merry Christmas, Tony,” she says.
There was no reason for you to worry about your parents or your sisters; everyone acts like Michelle’s presence is the most natural thing in the whole world. During dinner, you find yourself forgetting that she ever left. Once in a while, your hand brushes against hers, and that’s when her smile is even brighter. She talks, mostly to Janie, your younger sister, but you don’t mind. Just looking at her is enough for you.
And as the hours pass by, you’re sitting next to her on the couch, wanting to close the distance, but unsure of whether she would allow it. You should tell her things. You could explain that since the day she left, you haven’t been drunk once. That you want to make it up to her again. You could also tell her that your every thought since she walked out on you has revolved around how to win her back. But you wouldn’t know where to begin. And from the way she’s looking at you, you hope she already knows.
That’s when she hands you your present and looks expectantly at you while you unwrap it. You take your time, wanting to relish the moment. When you open it, your confusion is total.
Inside the box is Michelle’s wedding ring. A few days before she left, she pulled it off and threw it at you in an intense argument. You slipped it into her purse later that night, thinking she didn’t notice. She must have found it at some point.
“Eh,” is all you can think of to say. Is this her way of telling you that she wants to divorce you? By giving you back her ring? You don’t understand. You stare down at your hand where your own wedding ring is still shining.
She moves closer before you even realize it, and then she’s right next to her, her hand on your arm. “Tony.” She looks down at her own hand, resting on your arm, and then back up on you. That’s when you realize: she wants you to put it back on her finger.
Without saying a word, you slide it back on her finger and she smiles contently, almost like a cat who just drank a whole bowl of cream.
You’re mad at yourself for thinking that she was trying to tell you that she wanted a divorce. You should know her better than that. But you also know that it could have happened, and that you are very lucky that it didn’t. You don’t really deserve this second chance, but you love it nonetheless.
So you lean forward and finally allow yourself to close the distance between you. Just as your lips meet hers, you whisper “merry Christmas”.
III It happened earlier. Later
There was a moment that, in hindsight, was the moment where everything changed.
Michelle knew she should have told Buchanan. She knew that that moment had been the one where she really made her choice. She knew that when she didn’t tell him even though she had the chance to, that was when her fate was settled. She had been so close to breaking down and telling him about the call she had received minutes ago, and if she had, she wouldn’t have been here.
She remembered Tony repeating that his actions were worth it because he saved her life. He had said those words right after he was arrested, and he had kept repeating them when he was in prison and later on when he was released. For so long, she couldn’t understand how he could say that. Now she understood, though. Even as she sat there in the small room, her hands handcuffed, she understood.
There had been other options, but they would all have meant that she was willing to sacrifice Tony. And she hadn’t been willing to do that.
So much time had been wasted because of what had happened that day almost a year ago when Tony had sacrificed everything for her. Their relationship had been tried in ways she thought it would never have survived. But they had been given another chance, a chance to start over.
And that was the thought that had replayed over and over in her mind as she had listened to what the woman demanded, as she had done everything she asked for, as long as it meant that Tony would be safe.
Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she should have told Buchanan. When Tony had been arrested, he had had Jack’s support. Michelle had no idea where Jack was now, and from the words her co-workers (or former co-workers) had exchanged about him while interrogating her, she was sure that they didn’t have a clue either. She wouldn’t have Jack’s support.
She had acted selfishly and with only one thought on her mind: saving Tony’s life. She had risked other peoples’ lives, and she knew it wasn’t thanks to her that they had managed to capture the woman - Mandy, she now knew her name was. She had committed treason.
But the odd thing was that she knew that Tony was somewhere in this building, alive and safe, and that she didn’t really care about the man who was currently telling her about just how wrong her crime was.
“You saw how it ruined him,” the bald, cold looking man in front of her said. “You left him. Obviously you must’ve thought he was damaged goods once he was released from prison.”
She didn’t answer. He had no idea. If she could take her past actions back, she would. But she couldn’t. If she could go six months back and make different decisions, she would. But the choices she had made in the past 24 hours were not something she regretted. Did she wish that there had been another way to handle things? Had she hoped for another outcome than prison? Yes, of course she had. But she didn’t regret.
“What is it with you people?” the man continued. “What’s wrong with a good, old ‘I love you’? Do you have to kill everyone else on this planet to prove your love?”
She winced at his words. Part of her had probably done it to show Tony how much she loved him. Part of her had done it because he had saved her. But mostly she had done it because she had to.
Sooner or later, she would have been forced to decide between Tony and the world. He had made the choice and he had chosen her. It happened earlier to him. Later to her. The choice was the same, though.
“Can I see him? Tony?” she asked and was surprised at how raspy her voice sounded. She was really thirsty.
“Of course you can’t see him; what do you think this is, a dating show?” he replied mockingly, and she felt angry and sad at the same time. She hadn’t counted on him to say yes, but she had hoped.
“Could you get me some water then? Please? My throat hurts.” She had been answering questions for hours, most of them pointless. There was no reason to deny the accusations. There was too much proof against her. If she was so lucky as to only be send to prison for 20 years, she knew she wouldn’t be paroled. The thought made her feel sick.
The man - Carson, she seemed to remember his name was - got up without saying anything. She felt slightly uplifted at the thought of water.
Her thoughts drifted while she waited, but it didn’t take long before the door was opened again. She looked up, expecting to see Carson there. Instead it was someone else.
“Tony,” she whispered, thinking that she was probably imagining things. She hadn’t slept or eaten for a while anyway.
But then was next to her, kneeling, and she felt his hands caressing her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she just nodded.
“You?”
“I’m fine. Come on, we need to get you out of here.”
“Tony, what are you talk-“ she didn’t have a chance to say anything else. He moved his hands to rest on her arm, pulling her up. Then he wrapped an arm around her, waiting while she steadied herself.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said gruffly, looking at the door.
“What have you done?” she asked then, but he didn’t reply. He just repeated, “come on” and opened the door. She thought it should have been locked, but she was too tired and confused to consider this further.
The hallway was surprisingly empty.
“Can you run?” Tony asked her, looking into her eyes.
“Yes, I can run, but -“
“Great.” And before she had a chance to say anything more, they were running. Quickly. Blood was rushing in her ears, and there was no time to take in what was happening. Then the wind hit her face and they were outside in the dark, running towards a car that didn’t belong to either of them. She got in without asking any questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers.
She fell asleep at some point, thoroughly exhausted. When she opened her eyes again, Tony was there with a bottle of water, handing it to her. She drank greedily with his help. Her hands were still handcuffed together.
“Where are we?”
He didn’t reply.
“We are running away, aren’t we?” she asked, knowing the answer was obvious. He just nodded.
“None of us would survive being apart again, sweetheart,” was all he said. “Get some more sleep.”
Her doubts must have shown on her face, because he sent her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We’re safe for now.”
For now. The words had an ugly ring to them, but she knew what he meant.
“I love you, Tony.”
He smiled again, a bright smile this time. “I know, baby. I know.”
And when they drove on, she knew that this was a huge gamble. But they had to do it. They had to do everything to stay together.
IV Listen, how your heart pounds inside me
“I feel silly whenever I talk to you.
I try to excuse it by saying that it brings me comfort, or that I do it because you are a living creature and you deserve to be talked to. But it’s a habit I picked up even before I was sure of your presence.
Whenever I think back to that day, it’s a blur. But in the middle of that blur, I remember picking up the home pregnancy test from the table and looking at it. I also remember that I blinked a few times, thinking that there was probably something wrong with my eyesight.
It wasn’t because I didn’t want you. No, even then, when I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, I knew I wanted you to be part of my life. I vaguely remember the look on Tony’s face when I told him. I remember how the disbelief changed to a look of earnest happiness.
First and foremost, though, I remember that I talked to you in the drugstore that day. I remember that I was standing in the middle of the aisle, unsure of whether price actually mattered when it came to sticks that were just supposed to be peed on, and I remember asking you what you thought.
You had no reply, of course.
Since then, I’ve told you countless anecdotes and stories of people I’ve met, people you will meet, and people gone before you are even born. By now, it’s clear you have an opinion. Just last night, in the kitchen, when Tony talked about Jack, you kicked me, hard. Almost as if you were trying to alert me. Maybe that’s just because you’re like me, though. Or maybe you just wanted us to focus on you instead.
Someday you’ll voice all your opinions. You might even slam a door once in a while and ask me to shut up. Sometimes I’ll probably wish that you would just shut up.
But for now, I enjoy this form of communication, this bond between us. I know that Tony talks to you, too. I know you kick whenever he stops talking, clearly in protest. Whenever one of your kicks hurt, and I swear, I want to take it back so you won’t have to listen to words like that. Were it up to me, I’d only tell you about bright flowers and clear rainbows. If Tony had to decide, though, it would probably be stories about how your daddy used to be a kick-ass agent, and maybe a few stories of kick-ass cowboys thrown in among them.
You didn’t hear me use that word. You definitely did not hear me use it twice.
I love you already. I loved you when you were the reason I had my head down in the toilet every morning, and I love you even if you are the reason I can no longer see my feet. I’m getting restless, wanting the day to come where I’ll finally meet you. I want to hold you. I’d even be happy to hear you wail, though I’ll probably miss some of your softer kicks once you are here.
Can you hear that? That’s the sound of your daddy coming home. Soon he’ll be here, fussing and unable to sit still. Then you’ll kick again, and I’ll tell him. He’ll place his hands on my belly, touching me while reaching out to you. He’ll tell you stories of his childhood and stories about how he wants your childhood to be. He’ll look at me disapprovingly when I tell him I haven’t been able to relax all day. Then he’ll tell me to go rest.
That’s the sound of the car door slamming. What I can’t tell him, though, is that as much as I want you to be here, I’m afraid, too, and that’s why I can’t relax. What if I won’t know how to communicate with you? What if I let you down?
Can you hear that? That’s the sound of his key in the lock. Not that you know what a ‘key’ or a ‘lock’ is, though. I might as well explain the basics of nuclear science to you.
One of the first times I went to a check-up, the doctor looked at me like I had gone mad when I talked to you. You’d think she would be used to hormonal, pregnant women, but apparently not. “Listen, how your heart pounds inside me,” I told you. I wonder if you know we are connected.
Some wise people claim that babies recognize their mothers once born. Other people, perhaps not so wise, claim that you won’t be anything but a needy bundle of fat and cries for the first part of your life. To me, though, you are already the whole world.
Yeah, sweet girl, we’ll figure it out once you get here.
Tony says this will change everything. I think he’s right. But I also think he’s right when he says it’ll be for the better.”
“Hey,” she looked up when she heard his voice. She saw him standing there, a bright smile on his face, and she smiled back.
“Ya’know, if you did that in public, most people would probably think there was something wrong with you.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek.
“I have done it in public once or twice,” she admitted, looking down per instinct, but instead of seeing her feet, she just saw her rounded belly.
“Well,” he scratched his neck at her admission. “I guess we’re just lucky that no one has decided to lock you up yet.”
She laughed loudly at that, reaching for his hand. She kissed it a few times, feeling stupid for wanting to cry right at that moment. She wiped at her eyes with her other hand, looking up to see a loving expression on her husband’s face.
“Hear that, baby? We’re lucky,” Tony said and Michelle knew that when the baby kicked, it was because she agreed whole-heartedly.
V One hole in the net and you slipped through?
There is no such a thing as a right choice, he knows, because every decision has consequences. But there is such a thing as the wrong decision, and he thinks that might be what hers is right now.
So he asks her not to do this, and she kisses him on the cheek, turning to leave.
That’s when he makes a decision, right there, that he cannot let her walk out of that door, because if she does, he is sure something bad will happen. Whenever they’ve been apart, that’s when all the bad things have happened. “Please. Let’s not do this, Michelle. It’ll be the same circus, all over again.”
She turns around at that, looking at him, a confused frown on her face. “But I don’t see why I shouldn’t do this - what if they need our help?” she argues, logically. “You are perfectly capable of handling the meeting on your own.”
He moves closer then, not giving her a chance to walk away. He puts his hand on her cheeks, runs his thumb over the soft skin.
“I know. But I don’t want to.” He sees a flicker in her eyes, a flicker of doubt, and he adds a final push, knowing it’ll keep her there, close to him. “What if something happened to you?” He feels selfish for a second or two, because he knows she always carries around guilt: guilt because he went to prison for her, even more guilt because she couldn’t do the same for him. But then she looks at him, uncertain, and he smiles gently. She nods, relaxing and stepping closer, stepping into his embrace.
He exhales harshly, relieved. He doesn’t know why he was so scared, but he knew that if she walked out of that door, something would happen. He kisses her hair then, holding her close. “Let’s cancel the meeting. We can go to the beach or something.”
She looks at him, and he thinks she looks mad.
“Tony, what if something is about to happen? We can’t just lie on the beach while the world gets blown up.”
He can’t help but laugh then. “Remember all the false alarms while working for CTU? All the times we thought the world was about to come to an end, and it never did?”
She opens her mouth, about to reply, but he just continues to talk. “And if, despite of everything, the world does end, at least we’d be together.”
And she licks her lips, looking almost convinced by now. “We need to be together, sweetheart,” he says, and it’s probably just what she needs to hear, because her posture relaxes again, and she smiles softly.
“Okay. You’re right. We, we agreed to leave our old lives behind. I know. But we don’t have to cancel the meeting.”
“It’s been a while since we took the day off and did something fun. Besides, I think we should do something so it can take your mind off things.”
She agrees, and after discussing it for a while, they decide that the beach is the perfect idea. They pack a few things, a blanket and some food, and then they leave the house without looking back, going to Tony’s car and driving off.
The sky is gray, but the air is warm and the beach is almost deserted. They find an undisturbed patch on the beach, and they eat the food they’ve brought. Michelle laughs when he tells her a story about how he ended up naked in a public swimming pool once during college, and he can’t remember the last time things were this easy between them.
Lately, everything has been so serious. At first when they were got back together, it was sweet bliss, but he knows they have a pattern of taking each other for granted, and unless they are careful, it’s just going to happen again.
She dips her toes in the water and squeaks because it’s too cold, and he laughs loudly at her squeamishness. Then she splashes water on him, and he wants revenge, but the moment he puts his arms around her, hoping to pull her into the water, she turns her head and kisses him passionately.
He forgets about revenge completely, wrapping his arms around her and carrying her back to the blanket they brought. The playful mood is gone and replaced with tension, and the tension grows as they kiss each other, both only vaguely aware that someone could walk by any minute and see them like this. But they both forget the whole world, tasting each other and acting like love-struck teenagers.
They make love right there, and though it isn’t the most comfortable thing with all the sand, Tony can’t remember the last time he felt so happy, so whole. They lay there for hours afterwards, and he traces lazy circles on her skin, talking about everything and nothing.
When the sky is turning dark and their stomachs are rumbling, they get dressed, exchanging small kisses all the while, and pack their things. Before they leave, Tony puts his arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her cheek, like she did on his this morning. And he thinks that if the world was about to end, this was the perfect way to have said goodbye. But hopefully there will be many more days like this in their life, and if they stay together, he knows his world will never end.
Once in the car, neither wants to drive home. They end up driving around for hours, stopping at a small diner to eat dinner, and around midnight, they find a cheap motel where they spend the night. When they wake up the next morning, the world hasn’t ended yet, and they drive home with huge smiles on their faces.
By the time they arrive home, their smiles falter. Where Michelle’s car stood just the day before there’s now only a wreck. Several men are walking around, inspecting the car, and Tony recognizes one of them as a guy he used to work with at CTU.
“What happened?” he asks, frantic and confused, holding Michelle close while her eyes dart all over the place, trying to take in all the damage.
“A car bomb,” the man answers, and Tony thinks his name might be Waters, but he isn’t sure. “Good thing you decided to take the other car,” he points to Tony’s car, and Tony’s heart pounds in his chest; his grip on Michelle’s arms is so tight that she yelps in pain. He mutters a “sorry” to her and loosens the grip, but she stays there in his arms.
“Some young boy, probably thinking he could steal the car, was the reason it blew up. I’m guessing the bomb was meant for you, though. I guess you owe the poor boy your life.”
There are questions to ask, things they needed to figure out, why’s and how’s, but right now Tony just drags Michelle away from the wreckage, holding her as she cries. He kisses the tears away, tries to comfort her, but all the time, the only thing he can think of is that they were so close; their whole world could so easily have fallen apart.
Waters or whatever his name is walks over to them again, and says, “one hole in the net and you slipped through? You’re more than lucky.”
And they both nod, though they both know that it’s love, not luck, they can thank for being alive.
Title: Could Have
Fandom: 24
Characters/Pairings: Tony Almeida/Michelle Dessler
Rating: PG/PG-13, perhaps.
Word Count: 6,274 (a little bit long, I know)
Summary: It's the details that change everything. Five different scenarios that could have resulted in a happy ending for Tony and Michelle.
Warnings: spoilers here and there. Not bad, though.
Author's note: The title, as well as the titles for each part, is from the poem "Could Have" by Wislawa Szymborska. These parts are all unrelated and in chronological order.
Could Have
I Because it was raining
It’s raining. Her hair is a damp mass, plastered to her face, and she fidgets with her purse, with her hair, with something constantly, impatient.
The train is delayed, but there is nothing new in this. What’s new, however, is the job interview she has to get to, somehow, and if the train doesn’t get there soon, she will miss her flight and she won’t be in L.A. on time - she stops the thought here, focusing on the sound of her heel instead as it clicks monotonously against the platform, the sound a little dulled because of the rain.
She needs this job. She needs a reason to get the hell out of New York and the job at CTU seems like the perfect opportunity. She misses L.A.; she misses the heat and the sun, and New York is just a bunch of bad memories by now.
On the bad days, she asks herself why she was ever naïve enough to move across the country for a man. Scott certainly wasn’t worth it. Despite of all his kind words of how they would build a life together, he never hesitated to push her out of his life as soon as she arrived. She has already wasted a year in New York; she has wasted a year on rain and a boyfriend with serious commitment issues.
On the good days, she just focuses on change. Those are the days where she can shake her head and chuckle at how different she is from the Michelle she was a year ago. More mature. More ready to tackle the world. Definitely less blue-eyed. She gave up on her ambitions because she thought love was more important, thought it played a greater part in the big picture. But now there is no love left in her heart, and all her ambitions are back, urging her to run as fast as she can so she won’t end up stuck forever. That’s why she wants this job. It’s been a year since she finished university, and she fears that the world has changed so much in that year that she is too lost to ever regain her footing.
But this job, in L.A., working for the government, would be perfect. If the train would only get there, she thinks, glancing at her watch. She sighs. Soon, it’ll be too late and she will have missed the chance. Probably her last chance. She knows she should’ve taken a cab, but that was Scott said, and for some reason, she felt the need to establish once and for all that she knows how to take care of herself.
She is paying for that defiance now.
Another train arrives and departs again, and she finds herself desperately wishing that she had brought an umbrella. If the train doesn’t get there in a few minutes, she will have to walk back to the apartment (back to Scott, but she shakes that thought off) in the rain.
How she hates the rain. She steals another glance at her watch and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has stopped. It’s too late. There’s no way she would be able to catch her flight now. Her heart clenches and she forces herself not to cry. She stands there for a moment, her clothes drenched and her dreams ruined, just staring into the air. Minutes pass and she doesn’t move, and then she hears the sound of a train pulling in, and she forces herself to look away, the irony too bitter right then.
There will be other opportunities. She watches people bustling in and out of the train, stressed and in a hurry. That should’ve been her. But it isn’t. She turns away when the doors close, the whole thing a little too symbolic for her.
And that’s when she hears someone curse loudly close to her. A man, angry-looking but undeniably handsome with dark brown eyes and dark hair, is standing in front of her, looking at the train as it drives by. From the way he looks and his heavy breathing, he must have run to catch the train. And missed it.
“Missed the train?” she asks him then, not sure why she is talking to a cursing stranger on a train station when it’s raining and she really should be on her way back, trying to book another flight and getting to L.A. as quickly as possible. But perhaps it’s because the man is in the same predicament as her and looks just as frustrated as she knows she must look.
He looks at her then, turning his attention to her for the first time, taking in her appearance without missing any details. She thinks she has to look dreadful. Her coat is soaking wet and she can feel the fabric of her dress cling to her body underneath it. Her hair is a mess as well, and she is willing to bet that she has mascara smeared all over her face.
But he doesn’t appear to mind much. He just gives her a small smile, though he still looks a little pissed off.
“Yeah. Missed a whole lot more than that actually,” he says then, and she tries not to notice just how attractive he is. Being a little too busy noticing stuff like that is exactly what got her here anyway. “And so did you, I’m guessing,” he interrupts her train of thought, and she remembers to nod just before he looks like he loses his patience with her odd behavior.
“It was the rain,” he tells her suddenly, and her brows crinkle as she tries to make sense of that sentiment. “It was because of the rain that I missed the train,” he clarifies. “What about you?”
She has no idea why he wants to make small talk right now. But she realizes that she should start moving, and she points to the stairs. “I really need to get back.”
He looks a little lost at that. That’s when she makes an impulsive decision, mostly because she can’t help but think of her grandmother’s words (“sometimes, Michelle, when a door closes, a window appears”). “Do you have to be somewhere right now?” she asks him.
He glances in the direction where the train just drove off. “No. Not right now, I guess.”
She begins to walk and he follows her. While walking up the stairs, she answers his earlier question. “I think I missed the train a year ago.” He just looks puzzled at that, but she doesn’t elaborate. When she has reached the final step of the stairs, he suggests coffee and she smiles brightly, in spite of feeling a bit cold and very tired.
She has no idea who he is, but for the first time in a year, she doesn’t really mind that the future is uncertain. She looks at him again, noticing that he is only slightly taller than her, and that though it’s mostly the beautiful brown eyes and the dark hair that makes him look handsome, it’s the smile that makes butterflies flutter inside her.
“I’m Michelle. Michelle Dessler,” she stops in the middle of the street, holding out her hand, and he takes it, touching her with a hand that feels cold and clammy because of the rain. But his grip is firm, and she thinks his touch feels nice anyway.
“Tony Almeida. It’s nice to meet you.” And then she lets go of his hand, walking beside him. They don’t talk that much because the rain drowns out most attempts at conversation. She doesn’t really mind right then.
Right now, she can’t help but think that it’s because it was raining that she feels like smiling for the first time in a while.
II It could have happened
“You’ve spent the past few months pushing me away, Tony,” she tells you, and though you hear and understand the words, part of you doesn’t want to hear or understand.
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
You haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She left you and whenever you’ve tried to contact her, she has told you to leave her alone. She hasn’t picked up the phone. You doubt she has even bothered to read your emails. And when you have knocked on her door, she has pretended not to be home even though you could hear her inside, walking back and forth, indecisive.
So it makes no sense that she is here. It’s Christmas and you are at your parents’ house, prepared to celebrate Christmas without Michelle for the first time in three years. But here she is. Of course your mother opened the door for her and invited her inside; she has always liked Michelle more than she has liked you. At least that’s what you used to think until you saw the way your mother frowned when you told her that Michelle had left you. At that moment, you thought she was willing to do anything to protect you from getting hurt.
But you are hurt and you are still hurting. Seeing Michelle there in front of you, looking insecure and lost, you fight the need to move closer to her and take her in your arms. She has left you. Maybe she’s there to drop off divorce papers. But there would be no reason for her to do that on Christmas, and you know she would never be that evil. Whenever she has hurt you, it has always been unintentional. Her love has always mirrored yours.
“It’s Christmas,” she answers simply, and you frown and notice the way she toys with the small paper bag in her hands. You vaguely consider that it might be a present for you, but you push the idea away. You haven’t bought her a present, anyway.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. The Christmas lights and the fact that my dad’s dressed like Santa right now kinda threw me for a loop at first, but then I remembered the date,” you reply, knowing that it comes out less sarcastic than you wanted it to, and you probably just sound confused. “What I can’t figure out, though, is what you’re doing here.”
She is about to reply, but you cut her off. “Don’t just say it’s Christmas. I want a real reply.”
That makes her look angry, and you think you prefer it when she looks angry instead of when she looks like you’ve broken her heart.
“When,” she begins, but hesitates, and you realize this isn’t one of the times where impatience will get you an answer from her. So you look at her, trying to look like you have all the time in the world. “When you went to prison,” she says then, and you don’t like where this is going, but you force yourself to not break eye contact with her, “I thought I would have to celebrate Christmas without you. It seems stupid to spend Christmas without you when I can celebrate it with you.”
You don’t have an answer for that.
“I can spend Christmas with you, can’t I?” she asks then, sounding insecure again. “I’ve… I’ve bought you a present,” she offers, and you find it unfair that she is the one asking for your forgiveness, your acceptance, when you are, as she pointed out earlier, the one who pushed her away.
“Sure, Michelle,” you try not to let the hope be too evident in your voice, hope that this is more than just because she doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas, but she knows you so well, and you’re sure she can see right through you. “Merry Christmas.” You smile sheepishly and she smiles back, looking at little more relaxed now. You want to make excuses and explain that you don’t have a present for her and that you’re not sure your parents will accept her presence, but her smile stops you from saying those things.
Instead you take a few steps closer, until you are almost touching her. That’s when you extent your hand, gesturing to the paper bag she is awkwardly holding. “I’ll put it under the tree,” you say, and she hands it over, following you with her eyes as you move to the fake Christmas tree and pull out a shiny, square package from the bag and place it under the tree.
Then you go to her again, and this time when you extend your hand, she immediately reaches for it and neither of you let go right away. “Merry Christmas, Tony,” she says.
There was no reason for you to worry about your parents or your sisters; everyone acts like Michelle’s presence is the most natural thing in the whole world. During dinner, you find yourself forgetting that she ever left. Once in a while, your hand brushes against hers, and that’s when her smile is even brighter. She talks, mostly to Janie, your younger sister, but you don’t mind. Just looking at her is enough for you.
And as the hours pass by, you’re sitting next to her on the couch, wanting to close the distance, but unsure of whether she would allow it. You should tell her things. You could explain that since the day she left, you haven’t been drunk once. That you want to make it up to her again. You could also tell her that your every thought since she walked out on you has revolved around how to win her back. But you wouldn’t know where to begin. And from the way she’s looking at you, you hope she already knows.
That’s when she hands you your present and looks expectantly at you while you unwrap it. You take your time, wanting to relish the moment. When you open it, your confusion is total.
Inside the box is Michelle’s wedding ring. A few days before she left, she pulled it off and threw it at you in an intense argument. You slipped it into her purse later that night, thinking she didn’t notice. She must have found it at some point.
“Eh,” is all you can think of to say. Is this her way of telling you that she wants to divorce you? By giving you back her ring? You don’t understand. You stare down at your hand where your own wedding ring is still shining.
She moves closer before you even realize it, and then she’s right next to her, her hand on your arm. “Tony.” She looks down at her own hand, resting on your arm, and then back up on you. That’s when you realize: she wants you to put it back on her finger.
Without saying a word, you slide it back on her finger and she smiles contently, almost like a cat who just drank a whole bowl of cream.
You’re mad at yourself for thinking that she was trying to tell you that she wanted a divorce. You should know her better than that. But you also know that it could have happened, and that you are very lucky that it didn’t. You don’t really deserve this second chance, but you love it nonetheless.
So you lean forward and finally allow yourself to close the distance between you. Just as your lips meet hers, you whisper “merry Christmas”.
III It happened earlier. Later
There was a moment that, in hindsight, was the moment where everything changed.
Michelle knew she should have told Buchanan. She knew that that moment had been the one where she really made her choice. She knew that when she didn’t tell him even though she had the chance to, that was when her fate was settled. She had been so close to breaking down and telling him about the call she had received minutes ago, and if she had, she wouldn’t have been here.
She remembered Tony repeating that his actions were worth it because he saved her life. He had said those words right after he was arrested, and he had kept repeating them when he was in prison and later on when he was released. For so long, she couldn’t understand how he could say that. Now she understood, though. Even as she sat there in the small room, her hands handcuffed, she understood.
There had been other options, but they would all have meant that she was willing to sacrifice Tony. And she hadn’t been willing to do that.
So much time had been wasted because of what had happened that day almost a year ago when Tony had sacrificed everything for her. Their relationship had been tried in ways she thought it would never have survived. But they had been given another chance, a chance to start over.
And that was the thought that had replayed over and over in her mind as she had listened to what the woman demanded, as she had done everything she asked for, as long as it meant that Tony would be safe.
Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she should have told Buchanan. When Tony had been arrested, he had had Jack’s support. Michelle had no idea where Jack was now, and from the words her co-workers (or former co-workers) had exchanged about him while interrogating her, she was sure that they didn’t have a clue either. She wouldn’t have Jack’s support.
She had acted selfishly and with only one thought on her mind: saving Tony’s life. She had risked other peoples’ lives, and she knew it wasn’t thanks to her that they had managed to capture the woman - Mandy, she now knew her name was. She had committed treason.
But the odd thing was that she knew that Tony was somewhere in this building, alive and safe, and that she didn’t really care about the man who was currently telling her about just how wrong her crime was.
“You saw how it ruined him,” the bald, cold looking man in front of her said. “You left him. Obviously you must’ve thought he was damaged goods once he was released from prison.”
She didn’t answer. He had no idea. If she could take her past actions back, she would. But she couldn’t. If she could go six months back and make different decisions, she would. But the choices she had made in the past 24 hours were not something she regretted. Did she wish that there had been another way to handle things? Had she hoped for another outcome than prison? Yes, of course she had. But she didn’t regret.
“What is it with you people?” the man continued. “What’s wrong with a good, old ‘I love you’? Do you have to kill everyone else on this planet to prove your love?”
She winced at his words. Part of her had probably done it to show Tony how much she loved him. Part of her had done it because he had saved her. But mostly she had done it because she had to.
Sooner or later, she would have been forced to decide between Tony and the world. He had made the choice and he had chosen her. It happened earlier to him. Later to her. The choice was the same, though.
“Can I see him? Tony?” she asked and was surprised at how raspy her voice sounded. She was really thirsty.
“Of course you can’t see him; what do you think this is, a dating show?” he replied mockingly, and she felt angry and sad at the same time. She hadn’t counted on him to say yes, but she had hoped.
“Could you get me some water then? Please? My throat hurts.” She had been answering questions for hours, most of them pointless. There was no reason to deny the accusations. There was too much proof against her. If she was so lucky as to only be send to prison for 20 years, she knew she wouldn’t be paroled. The thought made her feel sick.
The man - Carson, she seemed to remember his name was - got up without saying anything. She felt slightly uplifted at the thought of water.
Her thoughts drifted while she waited, but it didn’t take long before the door was opened again. She looked up, expecting to see Carson there. Instead it was someone else.
“Tony,” she whispered, thinking that she was probably imagining things. She hadn’t slept or eaten for a while anyway.
But then was next to her, kneeling, and she felt his hands caressing her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she just nodded.
“You?”
“I’m fine. Come on, we need to get you out of here.”
“Tony, what are you talk-“ she didn’t have a chance to say anything else. He moved his hands to rest on her arm, pulling her up. Then he wrapped an arm around her, waiting while she steadied herself.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said gruffly, looking at the door.
“What have you done?” she asked then, but he didn’t reply. He just repeated, “come on” and opened the door. She thought it should have been locked, but she was too tired and confused to consider this further.
The hallway was surprisingly empty.
“Can you run?” Tony asked her, looking into her eyes.
“Yes, I can run, but -“
“Great.” And before she had a chance to say anything more, they were running. Quickly. Blood was rushing in her ears, and there was no time to take in what was happening. Then the wind hit her face and they were outside in the dark, running towards a car that didn’t belong to either of them. She got in without asking any questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers.
She fell asleep at some point, thoroughly exhausted. When she opened her eyes again, Tony was there with a bottle of water, handing it to her. She drank greedily with his help. Her hands were still handcuffed together.
“Where are we?”
He didn’t reply.
“We are running away, aren’t we?” she asked, knowing the answer was obvious. He just nodded.
“None of us would survive being apart again, sweetheart,” was all he said. “Get some more sleep.”
Her doubts must have shown on her face, because he sent her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We’re safe for now.”
For now. The words had an ugly ring to them, but she knew what he meant.
“I love you, Tony.”
He smiled again, a bright smile this time. “I know, baby. I know.”
And when they drove on, she knew that this was a huge gamble. But they had to do it. They had to do everything to stay together.
IV Listen, how your heart pounds inside me
“I feel silly whenever I talk to you.
I try to excuse it by saying that it brings me comfort, or that I do it because you are a living creature and you deserve to be talked to. But it’s a habit I picked up even before I was sure of your presence.
Whenever I think back to that day, it’s a blur. But in the middle of that blur, I remember picking up the home pregnancy test from the table and looking at it. I also remember that I blinked a few times, thinking that there was probably something wrong with my eyesight.
It wasn’t because I didn’t want you. No, even then, when I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, I knew I wanted you to be part of my life. I vaguely remember the look on Tony’s face when I told him. I remember how the disbelief changed to a look of earnest happiness.
First and foremost, though, I remember that I talked to you in the drugstore that day. I remember that I was standing in the middle of the aisle, unsure of whether price actually mattered when it came to sticks that were just supposed to be peed on, and I remember asking you what you thought.
You had no reply, of course.
Since then, I’ve told you countless anecdotes and stories of people I’ve met, people you will meet, and people gone before you are even born. By now, it’s clear you have an opinion. Just last night, in the kitchen, when Tony talked about Jack, you kicked me, hard. Almost as if you were trying to alert me. Maybe that’s just because you’re like me, though. Or maybe you just wanted us to focus on you instead.
Someday you’ll voice all your opinions. You might even slam a door once in a while and ask me to shut up. Sometimes I’ll probably wish that you would just shut up.
But for now, I enjoy this form of communication, this bond between us. I know that Tony talks to you, too. I know you kick whenever he stops talking, clearly in protest. Whenever one of your kicks hurt, and I swear, I want to take it back so you won’t have to listen to words like that. Were it up to me, I’d only tell you about bright flowers and clear rainbows. If Tony had to decide, though, it would probably be stories about how your daddy used to be a kick-ass agent, and maybe a few stories of kick-ass cowboys thrown in among them.
You didn’t hear me use that word. You definitely did not hear me use it twice.
I love you already. I loved you when you were the reason I had my head down in the toilet every morning, and I love you even if you are the reason I can no longer see my feet. I’m getting restless, wanting the day to come where I’ll finally meet you. I want to hold you. I’d even be happy to hear you wail, though I’ll probably miss some of your softer kicks once you are here.
Can you hear that? That’s the sound of your daddy coming home. Soon he’ll be here, fussing and unable to sit still. Then you’ll kick again, and I’ll tell him. He’ll place his hands on my belly, touching me while reaching out to you. He’ll tell you stories of his childhood and stories about how he wants your childhood to be. He’ll look at me disapprovingly when I tell him I haven’t been able to relax all day. Then he’ll tell me to go rest.
That’s the sound of the car door slamming. What I can’t tell him, though, is that as much as I want you to be here, I’m afraid, too, and that’s why I can’t relax. What if I won’t know how to communicate with you? What if I let you down?
Can you hear that? That’s the sound of his key in the lock. Not that you know what a ‘key’ or a ‘lock’ is, though. I might as well explain the basics of nuclear science to you.
One of the first times I went to a check-up, the doctor looked at me like I had gone mad when I talked to you. You’d think she would be used to hormonal, pregnant women, but apparently not. “Listen, how your heart pounds inside me,” I told you. I wonder if you know we are connected.
Some wise people claim that babies recognize their mothers once born. Other people, perhaps not so wise, claim that you won’t be anything but a needy bundle of fat and cries for the first part of your life. To me, though, you are already the whole world.
Yeah, sweet girl, we’ll figure it out once you get here.
Tony says this will change everything. I think he’s right. But I also think he’s right when he says it’ll be for the better.”
“Hey,” she looked up when she heard his voice. She saw him standing there, a bright smile on his face, and she smiled back.
“Ya’know, if you did that in public, most people would probably think there was something wrong with you.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek.
“I have done it in public once or twice,” she admitted, looking down per instinct, but instead of seeing her feet, she just saw her rounded belly.
“Well,” he scratched his neck at her admission. “I guess we’re just lucky that no one has decided to lock you up yet.”
She laughed loudly at that, reaching for his hand. She kissed it a few times, feeling stupid for wanting to cry right at that moment. She wiped at her eyes with her other hand, looking up to see a loving expression on her husband’s face.
“Hear that, baby? We’re lucky,” Tony said and Michelle knew that when the baby kicked, it was because she agreed whole-heartedly.
V One hole in the net and you slipped through?
There is no such a thing as a right choice, he knows, because every decision has consequences. But there is such a thing as the wrong decision, and he thinks that might be what hers is right now.
So he asks her not to do this, and she kisses him on the cheek, turning to leave.
That’s when he makes a decision, right there, that he cannot let her walk out of that door, because if she does, he is sure something bad will happen. Whenever they’ve been apart, that’s when all the bad things have happened. “Please. Let’s not do this, Michelle. It’ll be the same circus, all over again.”
She turns around at that, looking at him, a confused frown on her face. “But I don’t see why I shouldn’t do this - what if they need our help?” she argues, logically. “You are perfectly capable of handling the meeting on your own.”
He moves closer then, not giving her a chance to walk away. He puts his hand on her cheeks, runs his thumb over the soft skin.
“I know. But I don’t want to.” He sees a flicker in her eyes, a flicker of doubt, and he adds a final push, knowing it’ll keep her there, close to him. “What if something happened to you?” He feels selfish for a second or two, because he knows she always carries around guilt: guilt because he went to prison for her, even more guilt because she couldn’t do the same for him. But then she looks at him, uncertain, and he smiles gently. She nods, relaxing and stepping closer, stepping into his embrace.
He exhales harshly, relieved. He doesn’t know why he was so scared, but he knew that if she walked out of that door, something would happen. He kisses her hair then, holding her close. “Let’s cancel the meeting. We can go to the beach or something.”
She looks at him, and he thinks she looks mad.
“Tony, what if something is about to happen? We can’t just lie on the beach while the world gets blown up.”
He can’t help but laugh then. “Remember all the false alarms while working for CTU? All the times we thought the world was about to come to an end, and it never did?”
She opens her mouth, about to reply, but he just continues to talk. “And if, despite of everything, the world does end, at least we’d be together.”
And she licks her lips, looking almost convinced by now. “We need to be together, sweetheart,” he says, and it’s probably just what she needs to hear, because her posture relaxes again, and she smiles softly.
“Okay. You’re right. We, we agreed to leave our old lives behind. I know. But we don’t have to cancel the meeting.”
“It’s been a while since we took the day off and did something fun. Besides, I think we should do something so it can take your mind off things.”
She agrees, and after discussing it for a while, they decide that the beach is the perfect idea. They pack a few things, a blanket and some food, and then they leave the house without looking back, going to Tony’s car and driving off.
The sky is gray, but the air is warm and the beach is almost deserted. They find an undisturbed patch on the beach, and they eat the food they’ve brought. Michelle laughs when he tells her a story about how he ended up naked in a public swimming pool once during college, and he can’t remember the last time things were this easy between them.
Lately, everything has been so serious. At first when they were got back together, it was sweet bliss, but he knows they have a pattern of taking each other for granted, and unless they are careful, it’s just going to happen again.
She dips her toes in the water and squeaks because it’s too cold, and he laughs loudly at her squeamishness. Then she splashes water on him, and he wants revenge, but the moment he puts his arms around her, hoping to pull her into the water, she turns her head and kisses him passionately.
He forgets about revenge completely, wrapping his arms around her and carrying her back to the blanket they brought. The playful mood is gone and replaced with tension, and the tension grows as they kiss each other, both only vaguely aware that someone could walk by any minute and see them like this. But they both forget the whole world, tasting each other and acting like love-struck teenagers.
They make love right there, and though it isn’t the most comfortable thing with all the sand, Tony can’t remember the last time he felt so happy, so whole. They lay there for hours afterwards, and he traces lazy circles on her skin, talking about everything and nothing.
When the sky is turning dark and their stomachs are rumbling, they get dressed, exchanging small kisses all the while, and pack their things. Before they leave, Tony puts his arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her cheek, like she did on his this morning. And he thinks that if the world was about to end, this was the perfect way to have said goodbye. But hopefully there will be many more days like this in their life, and if they stay together, he knows his world will never end.
Once in the car, neither wants to drive home. They end up driving around for hours, stopping at a small diner to eat dinner, and around midnight, they find a cheap motel where they spend the night. When they wake up the next morning, the world hasn’t ended yet, and they drive home with huge smiles on their faces.
By the time they arrive home, their smiles falter. Where Michelle’s car stood just the day before there’s now only a wreck. Several men are walking around, inspecting the car, and Tony recognizes one of them as a guy he used to work with at CTU.
“What happened?” he asks, frantic and confused, holding Michelle close while her eyes dart all over the place, trying to take in all the damage.
“A car bomb,” the man answers, and Tony thinks his name might be Waters, but he isn’t sure. “Good thing you decided to take the other car,” he points to Tony’s car, and Tony’s heart pounds in his chest; his grip on Michelle’s arms is so tight that she yelps in pain. He mutters a “sorry” to her and loosens the grip, but she stays there in his arms.
“Some young boy, probably thinking he could steal the car, was the reason it blew up. I’m guessing the bomb was meant for you, though. I guess you owe the poor boy your life.”
There are questions to ask, things they needed to figure out, why’s and how’s, but right now Tony just drags Michelle away from the wreckage, holding her as she cries. He kisses the tears away, tries to comfort her, but all the time, the only thing he can think of is that they were so close; their whole world could so easily have fallen apart.
Waters or whatever his name is walks over to them again, and says, “one hole in the net and you slipped through? You’re more than lucky.”
And they both nod, though they both know that it’s love, not luck, they can thank for being alive.