"Sure. Whatever. It's not like I'm going anywhere."
The first time he said it, it was dripping with sarcasm. He had reservations at their favorite Italian restaurant; she had no idea where her shoes were at. She had asked if he minded waiting a minute, but it wasn't really a question, so he gave her something that wasn't really an answer. "It's not like I'm going anywhere." He rolled his eyes on the "going" part for emphasis, and she rolled hers in return, shaking her head as she turned the corner into her bedroom. And he just sat on her couch and waited- fifteen minutes before she finally found her shoes. He acted exasperated, but he knew that it was worth the wait. She was always worth the wait.
He said it again the first time they had sex. Not the exact same words, but the same idea. They had gone out to dinner- that same Italian restaurant, coincidentally- and ended up back at her apartment, naked, in her bed, him on his back, her on her side, pressed against him, her head on his chest. "We have work tomorrow," he had said- his way of allowing her to kick him out.
"Don't go," she said sleepily, pulling the blue sheet tighter around them.
"I won't," he replied softly, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head.
He said it when he met her brothers. Again, not verbatim, but close. She had taken him home for Thanksgiving, and her brothers had roped him into playing football on the front lawn. He hated football- baseball was his sport- but he played anyway. During a break in the game, her oldest brother, Greg, the sarcastic one, asked him what his intentions were regarding his baby sister. "If you hurt her, you'll regret it," Greg had said, his other three brothers backing him up silently.
"I'm not going to," Tony had said, feeling a level of discomfort that he wasn't used to.
"I mean it," Jonathon, who Tony figured was gay and just not out of the closet yet, said. "Don't even bother if you're not serious about this; about her."
Tony smiled. "Guys- I love Michelle. And I'm not going anywhere."
He had been late for his own wedding. Actually, not late, just not as early as Michelle. And somehow, his cell phone had been turned to silent, so when he finally did show up, he was met at his car door by Michelle's sister little Meredith, who frantically directed him to a sobbing-in-the-corner Michelle. He had run over to her, kneeling down in front of the chair she was sitting in and taking her into his arms.
"Shh, Baby, it's okay, I'm here now," he said soothingly.
Michelle looked at him with puffy red eyes. "You're here," she said softly.
"I'm here."
"You didn't freak out and decide not to marry me and run to Mexico before it was too late."
Tony laughed, hugged her tightly, and shook his head.
On their last night together before he was put in prison (of course, they didn't know that's what it was), they sat on the couch. He was sitting with his feet on the coffee table in front of him, she was lying on the couch with her head in his lap, and he was absentmindedly running his fingers through her curls as he flipped through the channels on the TV.
"Did you hear anything today?" she asked, looking straight up at him.
"About what?" he asked, knowing perfectly well.
She glared. "My job?"
He leaned over to kiss her. "Don't worry sweetheart; I'm not going anywhere without you."
As it turned out, that's exactly what he did. He went somewhere very much without her- prison. And she, in turn, went someplace without him- Seattle. But he had gone for her, and she had gone because she missed him too much. And honestly, it wasn't until they were together again that he really had left her all alone.
He hadn't meant to hurt her; he knew he hadn't. And it killed him to hear her crying next to him at night. But he still laid on his back and pretended to be asleep.
He was the one who had pulled away; he was the one who had turned to alcohol and silence. But she was the one who actually left. Later, when it didn't hurt so much, he'd consider that ironic.
All those times, when he had told her that he wasn't going anywhere, he had meant it. He had planned on having kids with her; buying houses with her; growing old together. But, he realized when he was served with divorce papers, he had ruined all chances of happily ever after.
Conveniently, he was wrong.
For some reason, fate had given him another chance. Somehow, Michelle had let him try again. They couldn't just kiss and make up; there was work involved, issues to be resolved, but they did it. They forgave. They wouldn't ever forget, but they knew there were opportunities available for the making of better memories to replace the bitter ones.
When he married her again, he knew. He knew that he couldn't ever leave; that he couldn't survive without Michelle. She was just as essential to him as air, or water, or baseball. Well, more essential than baseball. But it brought a close second.
He could hardly believe that he had almost lost her again. It was the day that they lost Edgar and David Palmer; the day Jack was captured by the Chinese.
He had watched her walk out the front door; watched her leave. But as soon as he heard the explosion, he was at her side, holding her, talking to her unconscious form.
"Come on baby, stay with me, come on Chelle, I'm here…"
It was less than a year later when Emily Almeida was born, 6 pounds 12 ounces and absolutely perfect. Tony was amazed at how much you could love someone you'd only just met. He made all kinds of promises to Emily- that he'd always love her, no matter what; that he'd teach her all about baseball; that he'd answer the door with his gun when she was picked up for her first date when she was twenty-five; that he'd never leave her.
One day, as he sat holding Emily in the chair in the nursery- the one Michelle had loved so much when they saw it in the furniture store- Michelle poked her head in the door. "Hey honey, where's the- oh, she looks so cute…"
Tony looked up and smiled.
"Stay right there," Michelle had said, running off to find the camera.
Michelle disappeared again, and Tony looked down, slowly rocking his baby in his arms.
"I always will."