Authors Note; I don't think this one is as long as the other, and for that I apologize :|
I didn't have an extreme amount of muse, so the emotion and character is not as good either. I rather like the ideas, though.
WARNING: If you're a Chase Edmunds fan, this is NOT the chapter for you.
All anyone could think about was whether or not a bastard like me could follow through with this, as if I had secretly decided to turn on them and work for the very people that betrayed me. Whenever my new teammates took a glance, all they could see within my dark eyes was a mole in their plan. As if I even had a reason, I was the perfect candidate for an operation like this and they knew it. What could I possibly have to lose? My name? Everyone except for these people thought I had died. My wife, perhaps? No, the world made it perfectly clear that they didn't want me to be happy, so they took her away. Did I even have a mere child as leverage against my soul? They'd taken that away from me as well. I was at the bottom for the first time, not even worthy of a position in the middle. I had to follow every order, no matter who gave it, and that required high patience – something I never developed.
Michelle knew that better than anyone. As I looked around at all the faces, the one skill I'd developed so well became handy: hiding my emotions, no matter how small. If they could read my face and my thoughts, they'd see loud and clear all the pain I felt. Everyone, even idiots walking the streets, would be able to see how hard it was for me to get up in the morning. They would spot the fact that every night I'd lay in bed, hoping I wouldn't wake up in the morning. They'd glimpse at the hopes I had that this was all an awful dream, and that if I thought about it hard enough, I would wake up in our bed with my arms wrapped around her so lovingly.
Then I would return to reality, realizing the acts I'd soon commit. The acts that I had spent my entire career trying to stop; only that was before – before those same people I worked for took everything away. The government had decided that, even after everything I'd played a large role in, I didn't deserve a happy life. A few of the guys in the group asked if I blamed Jack, and that answer would always be no. My best friend, a traitor to me? Never, Bauer was just an idiot. He knew what loss I felt, but still he let them walk all over him, calling for assistance whenever it was required. After Jack helped, he'd be thrown away for the next time he was needed. I wouldn't do that, never again.
Some of these scumbags would talk about me, wondering how far I'd really be willing to go. I had an answer for them, every time: I would go as far as it took to avenge her death.
"So, what do you want for dinner?" Michelle had said with that famous cheeky smile – at least it seemed famous to me. Everything about her could easily be remembered, as each was a trademark of hers.
"Almeida, you ready?" Emerson interrupted my thoughts, and just in time. Even he had come to notice that, when left alone for just a moment, I would start remembering Michelle and fall out of reality.
"Yeah, what are we doing?" I looked around, trying to figure out where the hell we were now.
"There's a group who seems to be planning a bomb attack. We don't know any further details, all we know is that we're supposed to come to this warehouse and steal some uranium to supply them, that's it."
"Wait," I began, confusion overpowering my other emotions. "We don't know anything else? How do you expect to get out of this alive? They'll probably kill us once we deliver what they want."
He laughed under his breath, and that made me angry until I realized once more – I was at the bottom…I couldn't stand up for myself, no matter how hard it was to resist. Emerson pulled a gun out from the stash and cocked it, putting it in his hand securely. "That's why, once we deliver it, we're going to kill the people picking it up. They'll be expecting it, and we've got to get them before they get us. Put on your mask incase of leaks."
"How much does it pay?" I asked, pretending to be interested while grabbing my mask. Money would never matter, even when the millions began piling up one by one. Michelle Almeida: that's what mattered here.
"Four mil, each." He replied, a gleeful smile on his face. I returned the favor with a fake smile of my own, but Emerson didn't know me well enough to tell the difference. He would never know me well enough, the only person who ever would…well, she was gone.
"I asked what you wanted for dinner!" Michelle laughed-yelled, hitting me on the leg and forcing me to snap out of my daydreams.
"I'm sorry; I was just so mesmerized by your beauty." I said with the smile she loved so much plastered on my face. As I did so, she tried to copy me and failed. Miserably, I might add.
"Oh, don't even answer, Almeida, I know you too well." She jumped up and walked over to pick up the phone, a wide grin on her face as she dialed.
"So you're saying I'm an open book? Watch out, Dessler." I paused, smirking mysteriously now. "By the end of tonight, I will do something so unpredictable you'll be shaking in those pretty little shoes of yours."
Michelle instantly looked down at her fuzzy slippers and rolled her eyes. "Of course you would take a cheap shot at my slippers, which you know you love." I opened my mouth to say something and she interrupted me. "Wait, you called me Dessler."
"Almeida, I mean?" I asked, almost unsure at whether or not I was right. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, turning away to order the food.
That's when I realized: that moment, frozen in time, was completely and utterly idiotic. This woman, Michelle Almeida, was the most perfect human being in the world – and I was letting her order Chinese because we didn't feel like cooking? Not a chance.
Acting unpredictable early, I walked up behind her and took the phone away just as the person on the other end picked up. "What are you doing?" She asked with a confused look. Only it was so much more than just a confused look, for her big brown eyes made a mixture of emotions and thoughts that I just melted at.
"We're not ordering dinner, I'm making it. I want you to go take a nice, hot bath and just try to relax. We had a tough day today, didn't we?"
She attempted to protest, but I wouldn't let her. I couldn't even begin to understand how husbands could consider an act like this a burden, when all I wanted to do was spoil her – but Michelle would never allow that; she could fend for herself. I put my finger on her lips and replaced it with my own, giving her a wet, gentle peck before pulling away, sending her off in a daze to her relaxing bubble bath.
Now, what was I to cook?
"Almeida, if you can't do this job then stay behind." Emerson said, and I snapped out of my memories. Most would use the word daydreams, but they weren't dreams of mine – the only dream I had left was being fulfilled as I spoke.
"No, I can do it, just keep me busy." I tried to keep my thoughts away from Michelle for just long enough to finish this up.
We all lifted our guns and waited for Emerson's signal, something I was extremely unaccustomed to. As he nodded, everyone followed his lead and broke into the warehouse; only we weren't the only ones there. Immediately, as it was our instinct, bullets began to fire all around the room in order to hit their target. I moved and took cover beneath a block without any canisters on it, which seemed to be smart as uranium would be leaked otherwise. That was something we couldn't afford. I heard a few bullets hit where I took cover, and once they stopped I lifted to take aim. Obviously my experience was helpful, as two bullets brought the duo shooting at me down.
Finally it seemed they were to surrender, but when I looked up it seemed to be five, maybe six men in our custody. Had I underestimated Emerson? My thoughts didn't have time to linger on that thought, for I soon found myself recognizing one of their people –
Chase Edmunds.
I knew he had transferred to CTU in another city, but I had no idea he still worked in the field – undercover, as it seemed. I managed to mask my shock, but the same could not be said for Chase. His eyes widened in confusion for a split second, and Emerson saw it even in the short time. "You know him?"
Edmunds looked at his teammates as Emerson asked me, and I looked away from Chase. "Yeah, I know him."
"Well who the hell are these people?"
"I don't know, but that's Agent Chase Edmunds. He works for CTU, but obviously he's been working undercover."
The enemy began looking at Chase with a mix of astonishment and betrayal, as if they'd never expected that. "Well, that's going to be a problem."
Emerson's other men raised their guns and shot Chase's fellow teammates, but the last one alive seemed to still be confused.
"Tony, what are you doing?"
I knew what they were going to have me do, and it wasn't going to be the best way to start off my turning against this country. Ignoring Chase, I turned to Emerson and waited for the order – what I expected never came.
"We're going to load the canisters onto the truck. You keep an eye on this clown; I want to see you kill him when I get back." They all walked away and I ignored Chase's dirty looks and questions, drifting off into fantasy yet again.
What better than her favorite? Homemade pineapple pizza with a side of curly fries, and there was a very specific way of making both of the objects. The pizza had to be sweet, not spicy, but it still had to have a touch of red pepper on it. Though that wasn't the hard part, for she desired the curly fries to be curlier than her hair…a seemingly impossible task.
I pasted the tomato sauce all over the homemade crust, followed by every other ingredient I knew she loved. Glances kept sweeping over to the bathroom, hoping she wouldn't come out to see my special surprise. As I finally finished the pizza and began preparing her delicious fries, I snuck a glance at something different this time – the pocket of my jacket, resting on the chair with a velvet box nestled inside of it. I looked at the bathroom and sighed, shaking my head. How could I propose tonight, when we were both so tired? No, it had to be perfect.
But that wish had already been ruined, for I'd made her weight way too long. At first she wouldn't have been expecting it, and everything could've gone smoothly – but then the days past, and then weeks, and now months. A sudden timer began beeping, and I snapped out of my sadness to move the curly fries around in the pan. Could she hear the sizzle? I wondered.
"Tony, it's time." I "woke up" as Emerson and the rest of the crew surrounded, placing a gun in my hand and beginning to cheer. I felt slightly weak, in the midst of all my teammates who could easily kill me with the shotguns in their hands.
Chase looked at me with no emotion, though I couldn't see any fear in his eyes…that's when I realized that he expected me to get him out of this. "You're not leaving her alive, Chase." He spat at my feet, though still no fear…he still didn't believe me. I cocked my handgun and raised it, pointing it directly at his head. Finally, some confusion appeared – yet still no fear.
"I don't believe you, Almeida; you would never kill a fellow agent." He whispered, and I knew my teammates couldn't hear him. That's when I leaned it, finally telling someone and admitting what it had all come down to.
"You're right, I wouldn't. The people behind me are considered agents now; everyone else became dead to me when Michelle died."
I pulled the trigger, and with a deafening bang his body went limp.
"Nice job, Tony." I heard Emerson say, but the sound of a bullet being shot still rang in my ears.
