Disclaimer: I don't own 24 or its characters, just borrowed them for a little while.

Hey everyone, this is an idea that popped into my head a little while ago, and yet I held off on publishing it. This is only the first chapter, and I'm pretty sure I plan to continue so here it goes…..

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Michelle's stomach was in knots. Not the ordinary kind of knots that were loose, the kind that one could easily to undo, but rather tight and constricted. It had been a month since she had last seen her husband's face. A month since the perfect fairy tale that she had become so accustomed to living in had fallen apart in front of her very eyes, and her, standing there, powerless to stop it. There was no one there now to hold her hand, to whisper gently in her ear to not worry, that everything was going to be alright, no one to kiss goodnight. It was strange to contemplate that the last mental image she had of her husband was him being led away from CTU in chains.

The light October wind rustled the fallen leaves that were scattered around her driveway. The trees that were dotted up and down her neighborhood had taken their usual autumn orange and red hue, and Michelle watched for a moment as the neighborhood children ran up and down the paved streets calling out to each other. So careless and free they were, which made Michelle's heart wish for the umpteenth time that the events from last month had not taken place. Scrambling around in her purse for a moment to find her car keys, she opened her car door slowly and climbed inside.

Thoughts poured through her mind as she drove along the freeway on her way to where Tony was kept in custody. Michelle wondered if it was even possible for things to go back to the way the were after Tony was released. "After all," thought Michelle, "It's your fault he's in prison. If only you had stayed at CTU and hadn't gone with the field team to the hotel, none of this would ever have happened." Michelle's guilty conscience had been her companion in the past weeks, reminding her that of all things that she could of done. She turned off at the exit, becoming more and more increasingly aware of how severe her heart was beating against her ribs, how every bone in her body seemed to shake hysterically, how her hands were having trouble getting a grip on the steering wheel of the car.

Michelle pulled into the jail parking lot. It had an increasing depressing air, the bricks that held the building up were colorless, and the whole structure loomed over her dauntingly. Michelle ambled through the gates and walked through the doors of the building itself. The main lobby awaited her, bearing a very strong resemblance to the atmosphere outside. She walked up to a burly security guard, uncomfortable of the way her footsteps echoed throughout the room.

"Hi, I'm here to see Tony Almeida." Michelle said, trying to hide the anxiousness in her voice. The security guards voice was hoarse as he asked with a disapproving tone, "You his wife, Ms. Dessler?" Michelle looked at him. He was wrinkled and his mouth was etched in a permanent frown. "Yes I am." She replied. The guard nodded. "Follow me."

The security guard led her into an elongated hallway. "Check your bag over here." He motioned to a corner where more security personnel stood. Michelle handed them her purse, and watched as they started withdrawing things haphazardly. Her thoughts started to stray off once again to the prospect of seeing Tony. "You're through." Michelle snapped out of her reverie to find her purse being flung forcefully back into her hands. "Thanks." She said. The heavily built security guard throatily gestured her on back through another hallway.

The guard opened a door to the side and motioned her in. "He's in booth number 15 Ms. Dessler." He said loudly over the talking voices of other visitors and inmates. Michelle heard her voice say thank you as if it were coming from some where far off. The guard exited and she was left on her own, exhilaration and anxiety flowing through her veins.

Booths were lined along the grey walls, each equipped with a telephone, so that the guests and prisoners could communicate with each other through the sheet of glass that separated them. Michelle walked along, looking at the despondent faces passing her. There were women and men, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, all clutching their phones, lifelines to confined criminals inside. 10 more booths to go…..Tony shouldn't be here." Michelle thought, He didn't do anything wrong." 5 more to go….Michelle realized that in a few seconds she would be able to hear his voice again. 4…..3…. Her pace quickened, heels clacking on the cement flooring. 2….. 1….Michelle looked up at the peeling numbers that read 15, slowly she turned facing the glass, hands shaking, heart racing, and then she caught her breath.

Next chapter their reconciliation…..