Fighting back

A/N: I hope people are liking the scenario I'm trying to develop between Nadia and Doyle. Comments please!

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The last time his dad laid a finger on him, Mike was fifteen. A growth spurt that summer had ensured that he was only a couple of inches shorter than his father, and with running and exercising he'd been doing in his free time, he'd bulked up a bit more. Wasn't so weedy and frail.

This time, when Rob whacked him around the side of the face for no reason other than Mike had got a 'B' on a science paper, Mike retaliated. He just couldn't take it anymore. Years of pent-up anger and fury surfaced. So, the second Rob's face hit his jaw, he lashed back out. Knocked out a couple of his dad's teeth. Bust his dad's nose too. He was surprised at his own strength as his dad stumbled to the floor.

He was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to stop at just those few hits, had to force himself to calm down and move away. Hands shaking in anger, face white with rage.

It wasn't the first time he lost control, but was the first time he'd let anyone else see it.

It wouldn't be the last.

His dad had stared up at him in shock, wiping the blood off his nose. "You hit me…" he said almost dumbly, voice slurred by drink.

"You deserve a lot worse," Mike snapped, looking down at his bruised fist, disturbed at his own aggression which had fully been brought to the fore after so long. "Don't you ever lay another hand on me, alright? Otherwise I'll go to the cops, tell them what you've done to me for the past five years. Looking at you, lying there like the town drunk that you are, I'm pretty sure they'll know who to believe." His heart was racing as he studied his dad, feeling sick that he'd fallen so low as to resort to violence himself, and that he'd finally challenged the man who had abused him for so long.

Rob was watching his son, fascinated, as he wiped his mouth. "So, you finally grew a spine. I figured that I'd beat some kind of courage and respect into you eventually."

Mike tossed him a washcloth in disgust, his face hard, no longer regretting his own retaliation; "no dad, the only thing you beat into me was fear. Respect you? I despise you for what you've done to me. I always will."

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So Nadia had his personnel file. Doyle's stomach twisted as he glanced up at her office window. She was seated at her desk, talking to someone on the phone, and his stomach welled with nerves. She knew about Denver, presumably about his fight with Milo, though probably not what it was over. She'd probably hate him even more for that, though he doubted she'd let her feelings show.

Nadia was always professional.

Unlike him.

His file was something he'd been praying wouldn't be forwarded onto LA. He wasn't exactly proud of the contents though he knew Nadia knew some of it already. Numerous warnings, disciplinary action, disagreements with co-workers… it read like some kind of 'How not to be a CTU agent' manual. Doyle knew he'd been treading a pretty fine line there, and now she'd know too. Morris's comment about being 'Denver's golden boy' couldn't be further from the truth, and now the file would show Nadia that. Denver had wanted him out- they didn't like the harsh way he operated, despite his success rate in breaking suspects and catching criminals, and his stony attitude was an embarrassment to them. His personnel file was more ammunition on how to get rid of him from any CTU agency, which he guessed she'd probably want to do soon, after the way he'd snapped at her in her office yesterday. Sometimes he just couldn't control his temper, but he regretted it deeply now.

She just seemed to lead his thoughts to places he wasn't prepared for them to go.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"You OK?" Morris asked.

"I'm fine," Doyle retorted. "I wish people would quit asking me that!" His expression softened a little at the expression on his colleague's face, "sorry Morris.. I'm just having a bad day."

Morris nodded, a little uncertainly as he went back to work, wondering what had prompted the apology. Doyle usually didn't care who he upset.

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Denver, three years earlier…

"Hey Doyle, phone for you… some guy from the coroners office."

Doyle looked up as he unzipped his vest. "What?"

"Coroner on the phone," Milo repeated impatiently. "For you."

Doyle slid his gun and vest back into his locker, wondering what the hell this was about. He'd just gotten back in from an attempted hospital bombing in downtown Denver, and wasn't in the mood to make small talk with anyone.

"Did he say what it was about?"

Milo's expression was deliberately blank. "Something to do with your father."

"Fine. I'll take it in my office. Put him through." Mike's stomach twisted a little at the mention of his dad. He'd had no contact with him for nearly fifteen years now. Which was the way he wanted it to be. He'd moved to Denver for Christ's sakes to get away from him and any memories of his childhood. Was this call about what he thought it was?

Doyle sat down at his desk and picked up the handset. "Mike Doyle speaking."

"Mr Doyle, this is John Ball from the LA County Coroners Office. I'm afraid I'm calling with bad news. I'm sorry to say that your father passed away this morning."

…….

"Mr Doyle?"

"I'm here." His voice was cold, emotionless. He felt… nothing. Completely emotionless.

Detached.

No different to usual.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Mr Doyle."

"Don't be. He's not worth anyone's sympathy."

"You're listed as his next of kin, Mr Doyle. I need you to tell me what you want me to do with the body."

"How did he die?"

"Alcohol poisoning. His liver gave out."

"That figures."

Silence for a couple more seconds. "Mr Doyle, I realise you're upset and this is an emotional time for you, but I have to release the body to you so you can make the funeral arrangements."

"Don't bother."

"Excuse me?"

"I want no part of any of it. Release the body to the county to be dealt with, I want nothing more to do with that man, not even his corpse. I don't care what you do with him. He means nothing to me and I certainly won't be shedding any crocodile tears over his

casket."

"You Ok, Doyle?" Milo asked him thirty minutes later, as he knocked on Doyle's door, a big stack of paperwork in his hands. He didn't like the guy, hell, not many people here did. He was a good agent, probably one of the best, but had a huge chip on his shoulder, he was always acting like the whole world was out to get him. He was argumentative, abrupt, sometimes downright rude to people. The two men tolerated each other for the sake of work, but they didn't get along, hadn't ever since Milo had transferred out here from LA a couple of years previously and had started working for the Comms staff.

Milo knew the coroners call had been about Mike's father's death, but he was pretty surprised to see Doyle working like nothing untoward had happened.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Doyle's voice was clipped.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Milo said hesitantly.

Doyle shrugged as Milo deposited the papers on his desk. Milo hovered a little around his desk, wanting to say something else, and Doyle looked up, irritated. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. That's all."

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Doyle heard back from the coroner once more, he'd called to let him know that his father was being buried the following Thursday. Doyle didn't care.

Milo bore the brunt of his anger. He'd overheard Doyle's end of the call, guessed what it was about.

"You aren't going to your own father's funeral?" he'd questioned, aghast.

"What's it to you?" Doyle had snapped.

"Well, no matter how many times I get mad with my dad, I can't imagine not paying my respects to him if he died…" Milo's voice trailed off, perturbed by the anger he saw in Doyle's eyes.

"You don't know anything about him, or me, so I suggest you shut up."

"He's your father…"

"He means nothing to me, and this is nothing to do with you."

"Look man, I'm just saying---"

"I don't give a shit what you're just saying," Doyle growled, suddenly shoving Milo viciously back against the wall. "Keep your nose out of my goddamn business, alright? I don't want or need your opinions."

Milo nodded, startled as he watched Doyle storm to the locker room. Whatever had rattled his cage had certainly unleashed some kind of animalistic anger, and suddenly he felt kind of afraid.

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Thinking back to that day now, Doyle winced a little. That encounter with Milo had earned him yet another disciplinary in his file. The Director of Denver CTU had overheard the tale-end of the conversation, warned Doyle over his aggressiveness. One more black mark against him, but hell, what did that matter?

He regretted losing it with Milo though, even though they hadn't got on, he'd been a good guy. A real hero. He'd died for Nadia, and Mike was grateful to him for protecting her, even if for nothing else. When people had been so sure she was an enemy combatant, working with the terrorists, he had been the one to staunchly defend her. If anyone should have died that day, it should have been him. Milo had so much more to live for than he ever would.

Involuntarily, his eyes drifted up to Nadia's office now. She'd finished her phone call, was absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her dark hair as she looked at something on her computer screen. Man, she was beautiful. Did she have any idea of how beautiful she really was?

Sometimes looking at her made his heart hurt.

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Nadia had read Doyle's file carefully. Hadn't exactly been surprised at the number of disciplinary actions and reports against it that were listed in there- some of it she already knew, by way of his reputation. Mike Doyle was renowned as a pretty ruthless guy, which was more so demonstrated by the listings in his file. Accusations of forcefulness of suspects heavily under duress featured pretty heavily. She knew that that was the way he operated. Or had done in the past. She'd even been on the receiving end of it once. She could still remember what she'd said to him that day- accused him of generating some kind of pleasure from his harsh interrogations of suspects.

She could still remember the look of hurt in his eyes, which he'd quickly masked with antipathy and then anger.

What was concerning her more than his file though now, was his state of mind. She was worried about him, had been since yesterday when he'd something had upset him in her office.

There's no one, alright?

No one at all? She had figured that Doyle was a loner. He didn't exactly come across as people-friendly, but thinking about it all now, she guessed that maybe he hadn't exactly had a Walton's type of upbringing. It might explain a lot.

His file stated that both his parents were dead. No more information offered than that. No next of kin… The pain in his eyes had disturbed her though- for that one second when she'd looked into his eyes, Mike Doyle had been an open book. She now knew he was suffering. Whatever his problems were, she sensed that something had been bothering him for a long time, and that once more, he had buried it away.

She knew Doyle had argued with Milo, yet another caution against him for an alleged unprovoked attack on the younger guy. It wasn't really her business what the disagreement had been over, all that concerned her now was that Doyle was capable of doing his job.

The guy sure had issues.

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Next time, Nadia tries to confront Doyle over what's really bothering him!