One of my favorite things about 24 has always been that we've only seen a few whole days out of these people's lives, and what happens in between those days is more or less entirely up to our imagination. With this fic, I set out to write one short TM scene between each season. This chapter is from Michelle's POV, the next one (which I will hopefully be able to post next week since it's about 90 finished) will be from Tony's.

You might want to bear in mind that these scenes were not meant to be key moments in the TM relationship (and by key moments I mean the day they met, the day they got married, the day Tony came home from prison, ect); they are just moments out of their every day routine during that particular period of their life. I don't think anyone's ever attempted to write something like this before, so I hope it'll go over well… Feel free to post your thoughts!

Day 1 – Day 2

She entered the bullpen, interestedly looking through the files Clark had just dumped on her. She was headed in the general direction of her station, her nose still in the stuck in the files, when she suddenly started as she realized she was about to crash into someone. She looked up, startled, to find the familiar, dark eyes of Tony Almeida.

"Hey," she said reflexively.

He muttered something that might have been a greeting back or might have not, and then quickly brushed past her. She sighed, telling herself not to feel disappointed.

She should have been used to this kind of behavior from him by now. In the first few weeks she'd worked at CTU it had been pretty much all she'd gotten, and she would have concluded he just couldn't stand her for some reason if not for the fact that his eyes always seemed to linger on her a second longer than necessary.

But lately he seemed to have softened a little, even attempted the most basic forms of small talk. And as much as she hated to admit it, she had been smitten by his attention, blushing and smiling far more often than she should have.

She sighed again. She should have known it was too good to last.

"Don't take it personally," a gruff, almost-teasing voice came from behind her, and she turned to see the CTU director, George Mason. "He just got back from testifying at Nina Myers' trial. You know about Nina Myers, don't you?"

His eyes searched her and she nodded, almost in awe.

George continued with a snort, "Well, I should probably hang a memo in the break room to leave him alone if you wanna go home tonight with your head still on your body."

She smiled a little at Mason's sense of humor. "Thanks for the warning."

He grinned and squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, no problem. Just think of me as your guardian angel."

He winked at her and moved forward.

She went back to work at her station, trying to keep her mind on her duties but finding it often drifting off. She wanted so badly for him to confide in her, as ridiculous and childish it sound even to her own ears. She wanted to be the one help him learn to trust again, and if they happened to end up together in the process she wouldn't be too upset about that either.

Oh God, she thought, What are you, sixteen?

She snuck another glance at him, watching him determinedly working on his computer, his face a mask of grimness. She considered going up to him and just asking if he was okay.

Yeah, and what do you think he's gonna do? she berated herself, pour his heart out? He's just gonna give you one of those looks and snap that he's fine.

Still, she wanted to somehow let him know that she was there for him, without being too obvious of course.

Five minutes later, she got up and headed for the break room. She poured two cups of coffee – one with milk and sugar in a regular CTU cup, and one black in the all too familiar Cubs mug (she told herself not to dwell on the fact that he would obviously realize she knew how he liked his coffee).

She hesitated as she re-entered the bullpen, a little apprehensive of his reaction. But then she told herself to suck it up and determinedly made her way to his station. She carefully placed the mug in front of him without saying a word, and he turned away from his computer and looked up at her in surprise.

Her heart pounded in her chest, half expecting him to snap that if he wanted coffee he could get his own damn coffee. But he just reached for the mug and mumbled a quiet but clear, "Thanks."

She let out a breath she hadn't even been consciously aware of holding and she felt a little silly at her own relief. She smiled. "You're welcome."

She turned back towards her own station, blushing when she saw George staring at her with his eyebrows raised.

Day 2 – Day 3

She started awake at the obnoxious sound of the alarm clock and reached out an arm to shut it off before falling back against her pillow for just a minute more of peace. She was just about to check if it had awoken Tony when a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Don't go in," he mumbled into her neck and she laughed a little in her semi-consciousness.

"I have to," she told him, running her nails gently up and down his arm, "You have the day off, somebody has to do your dirty work."

"Chappelle will do it," he insisted sleepily.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Chappelle will make sure I do it."

She waited a moment longer before untangling herself from his embrace, despite his grumpy protests.

"Tony," she laughed, pushing his groping hands back under the covers, "go back to sleep. I'll call you when I get the chance."

She hopped in the shower, blow-dried her hair and then went back into the bedroom to pick out an outfit. She took care to be quiet until she noticed that the bed was still messy and lumpy but he was no longer in it.

"I thought you were planning on sleeping in today," she commented as she entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later.

He turned away from the toaster to look at her and shrugged. "Eh… I was up anyway."

She sat down at the counter and reached for the coffee pot, shaking her head at the sight of him standing there in nothing but a pair of navy boxer shorts.

She had never understood his sleeping patterns as they were so very different from her own. She knew that if she were to strip down to her underwear and crawl back into bed at this very moment, she would probably be out again in less than ten minutes, despite her shower, despite the coffee. He, on the other hand, was up for the rest of the day once he had awoken, and ready for some action from the moment he set foot out of bed.

"What do you want on your toast?" he asked, already opening the fridge.

She looked up from the article she was engrossed in. "Oh… just some jelly."

A few minutes later he placed a piece of ready-made toast with jelly in front of her, and she smiled wryly. "Honey thank you, but I can handle toast."

He smirked at her. "Yeah, well… I didn't wanna risk it," he countered, taking a seat across from her and buttering up is own piece.

She rolled her eyes and decided to let him get away with it. She could never win that one anyway.

"So any plans for today?" she asked him and he shrugged, mischief already present in his eyes.

"Not really. Just… y'know, watch a little TV, take a nap, watch some more TV, take another nap…"

She raised her eyebrow at him, trying to hide her amusement. "You could do something useful, y'know."

"Uh huh." He swallowed down his last piece of toast, slid off his stool and kissed the tip of her nose as he passed her. "You're cute, you know that?"

And she couldn't help but laugh.

She headed for the bedroom to brush her teeth and found him dumping the dishes in the sink when she returned. She snuck up behind him and leaned against his bare back, letting her hands run up his stomach to his chest as her chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"What about to tonight?" she whispered, "Any plans for tonight?"

He laughed. "You bet."

"Good." She pinched his belly and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. "I'll see you tonight."

Day 3 – Day 4

Michelle sighed and shut her laptop closed, anxious to get home though to what she wasn't entirely sure. Seattle wasn't home, not by a long shot – but then again, neither was LA, at least not anymore, not without him.

She was pulling on her jacket when there was a knock on the door of her office, and she looked up to find a young woman who worked here at Homeland but whose name escaped her at the moment.

"Michelle?" the girl said hesitantly, taking a step inside. "I'm sorry, I accidentally knocked this over. It was it the break room, Mr. Buchanan said it was yours…"

She held out the remains of what Michelle instantly recognized as Tony's Cubs mug. She felt a sharp stab of pain in her heart and she stared at the girl's open hands.

"I'm really sorry," the girl repeated, catching on to Michelle's distress. "I- I'll pay for a new one. If you could just tell me where I can find one, I don't know anything about baseball so I wouldn't know-"

"It's okay," Michelle gasped, taking the three broken pieces of china out of the girl's hand. "Don't worry about it, just…" She put the pieces down on her desk carefully. "Just go now. Please."

This only seemed to make the girl feel even guiltier. "Michelle, I… Please, just tell me how I can-"

"You can't."

The words came out surprisingly calm considering the battle she was fighting with herself to stay in control. She turned her back to the girl, wanting her face to be hidden as she spoke her next words. She swallowed and willed her lips to stop trembling. "It was my husband's."

Many seconds passed in silence, and Michelle finally turned around to find the girl looking horrified with disbelief and guilt. Everyone in the office knew about Michelle Dessler's husband. Everyone in America knew.

"It's okay," Michelle said quietly, her voice even but monotonous. "It's okay…" Oh, God, what was her name? "Go on home now. It's been a long day."

The girl lowered her eyes and then slowly turned around and walked out of the office, her shoulders slumped.

Michelle watched her disappear, her eyes focussing on the last lost spot the girl had been before moving out of sight for an almost unhealthy amount of time before she finally turned and stared at the broken pieces still lying where she had placed them on her desk.

Tears suddenly came out of nowhere, and she clasped her hand over her mouth to stop a desperate sob from escaping her.

Tony's Cubs mug. Such a silly object, and yet at the same time so despairingly meaningful. She had always hated the damn thing, but after he was arrested she had started using it at CTU, and when she got transferred she didn't think twice about taking it with her to use for coffee at her new office.

And now it was in pieces. Just like Tony himself.

I'll get him a new one, she thought desperately, He won't even know the difference.

And she realized he probably wouldn't, if he ever saw got to see it. He had never been particularly attached to the mugs – it was just imperative he had one. She remembered early on in their relationship she had thought he would raise hell when her cleaning lady accidentally broke his then mug by knocking it over with her broom, but incidentally he had been much more worried about getting the coffee stain out of the carpet and getting a new mug as soon as possible.

She was the one who had gotten attached to the stupid thing over the last few months, ever since he was arrested – for the simple reason that it had been his.

And this new Cubs mug that she had every intention of buying, would never be his. At least not for a very long time.

Day 4 – Day 5

"What's the problem?" she asked softly, running her hand down the back of his head to his neck.

He was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, his laptop balanced on his lap. He had been working with a grim expression for almost an hour now, and Michelle knew there was something he wasn't pleased about concerning their company.

He grunted. "Nothing, I just can't seem to make this add up," was his vague response. He gestured a bunch of figures on the screen with his hand.

"Want me to take a look at it?" she offered, knowing she would be shot down. He took his responsibility towards their private security company so seriously, and wouldn't let her help him with anything they had agreed beforehand he would take care of.

She sighed when he shook his head, knowing that at least part of this need to establish himself was to prove to her that he had changed, that he could handle responsibilities and deadlines. And she trusted him implicitly when it came to all that, but couldn't seem to get this through to him.

She finished up with the dinner dishes and then checked the clock, noting that it was already well past eleven.

She sat down next to him on the couch and leaned into his body. "It's getting late," she told him gently, brushing a kiss against the side of his head. "Come to bed with me?"

He nodded and reached out a hand to pat her thigh without removing his eyes from the screen. "Uh huh, in a minute."

She relented, knowing it would not be a good idea to push him now, and headed up the stairs.

Ten minutes later he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth while she was taking a shower. She didn't know if he had solved the problem or had simply given it up for the day, but she found herself not really caring either way as long as he stopped fretting about it long enough to come to bed.

Her heart sank when she stepped into the bedroom to find him in bed sitting up against the headboard in his boxers, the laptop still in his lap and him still keying away determinedly. She crawled in next to him and reached for the book resting on her bedside table, figuring he might as well get some reading done.

After a while her eyelids were starting to droop and she turned look at him, silently pleading with him to just put the laptop away. But he seemed focussed as ever, his jaw set in self-discipline and determination.

She placed the book back on the nightstand and scooted closer to him, rubbing her hand slowly across his bare chest. "Don't stay up too late, okay?" she said softly, "It'll sort itself out."

As a response he turned his head slightly in her direction, kissing her forehead tenderly. "Night, sweetheart."

She smiled. "Night."

She turned off her light and closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep though she had a feeling she would be awake as long as he was.

He had half a mind to beg him to let it rest but she knew that would only make things worse, cause him to snap at her and retreat back into the living room. So instead she tried to get her plea across by keeping close contact with him physically. She rested her hand on his leg or kept their feet entwined, anything to wordlessly remind him she was there.

She was just about to break and all but implore him to come to bed when she heard the familiar sounds of the computer being shut down. She felt her whole body relax as he bent over to slide the laptop underneath the bed.

She rolled over and reached out an arm to him as he made himself comfortable against the pillows. She started to say something but he wrapped her up into his embrace and interrupted her with a gentle "Sshh". He kissed her shoulder and then her neck, whispering, "Go to sleep."

And she sighed happily, finding his hand and linking it with her own. She decided she would try to get her point across to him tomorrow – how as long as he tried and did his best, he could never disappoint her.