July 3, 2012 - It Begins
July 3, 2012
7:20 PM (PST)
Michelle's only half paying attention to the rerun she's watching. Her mind's still occupied by the conversation she had an hour earlier with her mom. She's beginning to regret saying that she'd be at the fourth of July party, but she wants to meet Danny's new girlfriend and she does like seeing her mom, sometimes.
At least when her mom isn't going on about how she can't believe her daughter can work with the man responsible for Anthony's untimely death and Michelle's given up trying to convince her that she needs to stop bringing up Jack every time they start talking about the business.
At least you're not bringing him to the barbecue
If Michelle wanted to be mean, she would drag Chris and Jack with her, but she's pretty sure that they already have plans and she's not going to play the pregnancy card so that they can spend an afternoon of torture.
She already knows part of the day will be spent with her mom asking her why she's not swimming and casually mentioning single men who might want ready made families.
Her attention's distracted enough that she doesn't notice the scene change for a few moments. At first she thinks it's an ad for a new show. A reporter, her blond hair streaked with stage blood, stands in front of a police line and is trembling.
In the background, Michelle hears sobbing and screams. A chill goes through her and twists her stomach.
That's not acting. This is real.
Michelle turns up the volume, everything else vanishes as she stares at the screen. Every other time she was in CTU and knew her role. Now, she is a civilian, and watching instead of analyzing.
"The first explosion happened around 9:20 pm," the woman says, almost drowned out by sirens.
"I was going toward the stand, I was just going to get something to eat, and then...I was on the ground and the stand and the people they weren't -- " the teenage boy is pale and his hands and knees are scratched.
No one stopped it
Explosions and blood and this was never supposed to happen, they were supposed to stop this, but no one knew anything, no one could put the pieces together and now...
She watches with growing horror, reminded of other bloody scenes, and other dying children. The camera accidentally catches a glimpse of a charred arm and nearby a bloody sneaker. It's like being back in the hotel and the screaming and the woman staring at her yelling 'You were supposed to protect him!' She closes her eyes, breathing out, pushing away memories because no one's here to hold her or remind her that the past is gone and this is a different threat -
"The second, third, and possible fourth occurred a few moments later," the reporter's voice is soft, but not shaking.
Chicago. Grant Park. She and Tony had been through that park and oh god they'd been to this event, and in January they had been planning to go there again this year. If things had been different, they would have been in that crowd --
The screen's showing images from a nightmare and she curses her hormones as she forces back tears, but can't stop herself from placing a hand over her swollen belly.
How can I bring a child into this world?
Old doubts resurface and she hates herself for the rational whisper in her mind that the death toll can't be that high, it looks worse than it is, and it's Chicago, not LA.
But the worry remains, it's not safe, not even close. For the first time in months she regrets her decisions, missing the comforting insulation of duty, protocol, and having a plan of action.
She grabs the phone she'd tossed aside earlier and dials CTU.
"CTU, Bruckner," a man's voice answers.
"This is Michelle Dessler, put me through to Bill Buchanan." Her voice is steady.
"Ms. Dessler, Mr. Buchanan is very - ," there's a pause, she hears another voice, and Agent Bruckner speaks again. "You're on with Bill Buchanan."
"Michelle?"
"Bill, I just saw -- "
"We're in an active code. Logan's called an emergency joint session with Homeland and CTU."
She's not surprised. "I know. I'm offering my expertise."
Silence for a moment, "You were a great agent, but we can handle it. And you have other priorities now. If anything changes, I'll call you, I promise."
She expected that answer, but she had to try to help, and part of her needs him to ask her back. His voice is even and she has the sudden memory of that voice whispering in her ear and telling her that it's okay if she doesn't want to have anything serious with him, he still thinks she's one of the most amazing women he's ever met.
"They think it's an isolated incident," he says calmly, dragging her back to the present. She doesn't believe him, but she knows that lying to the public is CTU's modus operendi.
"Yes," she says after a moment, feeling like an actor who lost the script. "Thank you, Bill."
"No, thank you, Michelle." He hangs up and she closes her eyes in frustration.
Years of experience make her sure this is only the beginning.
7:20 PM (PST)
Michelle's only half paying attention to the rerun she's watching. Her mind's still occupied by the conversation she had an hour earlier with her mom. She's beginning to regret saying that she'd be at the fourth of July party, but she wants to meet Danny's new girlfriend and she does like seeing her mom, sometimes.
At least when her mom isn't going on about how she can't believe her daughter can work with the man responsible for Anthony's untimely death and Michelle's given up trying to convince her that she needs to stop bringing up Jack every time they start talking about the business.
At least you're not bringing him to the barbecue
If Michelle wanted to be mean, she would drag Chris and Jack with her, but she's pretty sure that they already have plans and she's not going to play the pregnancy card so that they can spend an afternoon of torture.
She already knows part of the day will be spent with her mom asking her why she's not swimming and casually mentioning single men who might want ready made families.
Her attention's distracted enough that she doesn't notice the scene change for a few moments. At first she thinks it's an ad for a new show. A reporter, her blond hair streaked with stage blood, stands in front of a police line and is trembling.
In the background, Michelle hears sobbing and screams. A chill goes through her and twists her stomach.
That's not acting. This is real.
Michelle turns up the volume, everything else vanishes as she stares at the screen. Every other time she was in CTU and knew her role. Now, she is a civilian, and watching instead of analyzing.
"The first explosion happened around 9:20 pm," the woman says, almost drowned out by sirens.
"I was going toward the stand, I was just going to get something to eat, and then...I was on the ground and the stand and the people they weren't -- " the teenage boy is pale and his hands and knees are scratched.
No one stopped it
Explosions and blood and this was never supposed to happen, they were supposed to stop this, but no one knew anything, no one could put the pieces together and now...
She watches with growing horror, reminded of other bloody scenes, and other dying children. The camera accidentally catches a glimpse of a charred arm and nearby a bloody sneaker. It's like being back in the hotel and the screaming and the woman staring at her yelling 'You were supposed to protect him!' She closes her eyes, breathing out, pushing away memories because no one's here to hold her or remind her that the past is gone and this is a different threat -
"The second, third, and possible fourth occurred a few moments later," the reporter's voice is soft, but not shaking.
Chicago. Grant Park. She and Tony had been through that park and oh god they'd been to this event, and in January they had been planning to go there again this year. If things had been different, they would have been in that crowd --
The screen's showing images from a nightmare and she curses her hormones as she forces back tears, but can't stop herself from placing a hand over her swollen belly.
How can I bring a child into this world?
Old doubts resurface and she hates herself for the rational whisper in her mind that the death toll can't be that high, it looks worse than it is, and it's Chicago, not LA.
But the worry remains, it's not safe, not even close. For the first time in months she regrets her decisions, missing the comforting insulation of duty, protocol, and having a plan of action.
She grabs the phone she'd tossed aside earlier and dials CTU.
"CTU, Bruckner," a man's voice answers.
"This is Michelle Dessler, put me through to Bill Buchanan." Her voice is steady.
"Ms. Dessler, Mr. Buchanan is very - ," there's a pause, she hears another voice, and Agent Bruckner speaks again. "You're on with Bill Buchanan."
"Michelle?"
"Bill, I just saw -- "
"We're in an active code. Logan's called an emergency joint session with Homeland and CTU."
She's not surprised. "I know. I'm offering my expertise."
Silence for a moment, "You were a great agent, but we can handle it. And you have other priorities now. If anything changes, I'll call you, I promise."
She expected that answer, but she had to try to help, and part of her needs him to ask her back. His voice is even and she has the sudden memory of that voice whispering in her ear and telling her that it's okay if she doesn't want to have anything serious with him, he still thinks she's one of the most amazing women he's ever met.
"They think it's an isolated incident," he says calmly, dragging her back to the present. She doesn't believe him, but she knows that lying to the public is CTU's modus operendi.
"Yes," she says after a moment, feeling like an actor who lost the script. "Thank you, Bill."
"No, thank you, Michelle." He hangs up and she closes her eyes in frustration.
Years of experience make her sure this is only the beginning.