Even though I wished I owned Tony (I would so not let him die), I don't, so...you know the drill.
This is an expermient, first time doing 24 fanfiction, so I appreciate some feedback! Thanks!
Enjoy!
Oh...right, this is Jack/Tony with some Michelle bashing on Jack's part, so, you know...don't like, don't read!
I ran into the clinic, hoping that I would stop Tony from killing Henderson in time. The son of a bitch was our only source of information on the nerve gas. As I stepped into the room, my heart clenched. Henderson was gone, but I would worry about that later. Tony, pupils dilated and barely breathing was lying on the hard stone floor, an empty syringe lying a few centimetres away from his left hand. My eyes blurry with tears I kneeled between his legs and lifted his upper body so he knew I was with him. Begging him to stay with me, I cried for help. That's when I heard it. Those words…those three little words that made my hope for a happy future break into a million pieces.
«She's gone, Jack»
I clutched his head against me, my insides boiling with rage. He wanted to die. He wanted to die because of her. I gave up on calling for help. I would do what Tony wanted. I heard the faint beating of his heart stop. I felt the weight of his limp body as I held him tighter. When the medics came in to wrap his body, I refused to believe what had just happened before my eyes. I never thought it would end like this. Then again, how could his life end happily. He married her. The selfish bitch who took him away from me. After Nina's imprisonment, Tony was crushed. I consoled him, held him in my arms late at night until he fell asleep. Was she there in the hardest time of his life? No. I was. We were together, and we realized we didn't need Nina to be happy. I loved Tony. I loved him with all my heart. And I knew he loved me too. We moved in together, and we were happy. We were lovers. Part of the reason why Kim didn't want to see me anymore.
The day the bitch asked him out, he became distant. He wouldn't come to bed with me, but he would watch soccer in Spanish until he thought I was asleep, then he came into bed. He wouldn't talk to me as much at work, because even though we had hidden our relationship from CTU (for good enough reasons) he would always be very affectionate, and close.
When I asked him what was wrong, he would always change the subject quickly and insist everything was fine. But I knew my Tony. I got it out of him (everyone knows how convincing I can be). The last words he told me before moving out of our…my house, were these:
«I want to be normal, Jack»
Since then, he'd been with her. He told me he loved her, and I believed him. I still do. But I knew he still loved me, or at least…felt something. Because every time our hands fluttered together or our eyes locked, I could see it. I knew my Tony.
But I hated her. The part of my brain that wasn't busy loving Tony or saving the United States of America was concentrated on loathing her. She had taken everything away from me, away from him, her husband, Tony. She had taken my happiness, my hope, my love, my reason of living. And I hated her for it. When I heard she had been killed, I was almost relieved. Almost. But I knew that wouldn't be what Tony wanted. But however hard I tried, I couldn't help the thought that we could start a new life together to nudge itself into my brain.
But he died. And I blame her for it. I know Henderson was the one to plunge the syringe into his chest. I know that. But she killed him. The day he knew he loved her is the day he signed his death warrant. I would have protected him. If only he had let me. I wouldn't have let him die for me. But she did.
She killed Tony Almeida. But not only that. Because of her, millions of people will die. Because not only did she kill Tony Almeida, she only person I had truly loved. She also killed Jack Bauer, the only man who could stop terrorists from sending nerve gas into a million people's houses.
This is the death of Jack Bauer.