He heard her returning with the pizza, laying the box on the coffee table in the living room, as he scrubbed the remaining pot. The door opened and she joined him in her kitchen, pursing her lips together. Tony wiped his hands in a dishcloth and drew her towards him, planting a kiss on her lips. 'Hey, sweetheart. You see, it wasn't so bad. I'm nearly done. Those pots are clean, and this one will be too, in another few minutes.'

'No way,' Michelle told him, lifting up a pot from among a pile of clean dishes in disbelief. 'Hey, it's actually clean! I would've just thrown them out!'

Tony shook his head, laughing at her expression. 'Like I said, honey, you wouldn't last a day in the army. Pots never get thrown away – never!' He resumed his scrubbing, watching her join him by the sink. 'Why throw them away, when you got a whole platoon full of guys. Someone will be on KP in the morning. He'll scrub them for you, and if he doesn't do a good job you yell at him. If he takes too long, it's his problem, you keep him right at the job. Don't listen to any hard luck stories. His DI can yell at him later, it's nothing to do with you!'

'Who, the cook?' she asked, beginning to smile. 'Do cooks burn pots too?' Tony bent forward, delighted to see he had managed to cheer her up. She had look so devastated when her dinner hadn't worked out.

'Honey, everyone who cooks burns stuff. But if you refer to our guy as a "cook" you'll find yourself right here, with me, scrubbing the sinks or something. His correct title is "mess sergeant". And believe me, he burns more stuff than anyone else I've ever seen.'

'Is this guy for real?' she asked, with an amused expression on her face, kissing Tony. 'Or did you just make him up, so I'd feel better?'

Tony threw her a cheeky grin. 'He's real, alright. Probably burning more stuff right now!'

'But how can a cook burn food?' she asked, snuggling closer to him, trying to pull another story from him.

Tony smiled and shook his head. 'No army tales remember. You can hear about Lieutenant Almeida, not private Almeida!'

'But Private Almeida is so cute,' Michelle teased, completely happy again. 'He does such a great job in my kitchen.'

'Hm' Tony agreed, 'just as he should do. Honey, you never praise a private on KP. Before you know where you are, he'd be asking for something to eat, trying to get you to believe he's hungry just because he had to miss dinner! No, if he's finished with the pots and cleaned the sink and the stove, then you ask him why he hasn't emptied the bins yet.'

Michelle burst out laughing, shaking her head in pure joy at the image. Her laughter infected him too. He laid down the pot, leaning against the sink, laughing with her. 'Honey, you're distracting the private. That's a real mean thing to do. After all, his DI will be out in the field by now with the rest of the platoon, and he'll be so mad with the unfortunate private, he'll put him right back on KP the next morning. And on his day off too, for the entire day!

'No, if you're called Mess Sergeant Burns, you'll ignore the private while he's working, you'll prepare something for lunch, listening all the while to the horse race results on the radio from all round the world. After that you'll get out your exercise book and check to see your winnings, then look through the paper for the following day's races, and go to lay your bets and collect your winnings, leaving the pots unattended. Eventually you'll return, hopefully in a good mood, make some nasty comment to the private on KP, chat a few minutes with your two kitchen orderlies, and then trot off with the page of racing results to discuss them with some other mess sergeants. You won't spare a thought for the pots you're cooking lunch in, after all, the kitchen orderlies will stir them occasionally when they're not smoking outside, and hell, if they burn a little round the bottom, it's no big deal. DI Wills is your good friend, guaranteed to send someone to KP in the morning to clean them for you, probably that useless guy Almeida. You just leave the burned pans in a pile in the sink all day till he gets there next morning.'

Michelle was no longer able to stand straight. She leaned against the counter for support, laughing until the tears came from her eyes. Tony glanced critically at the final pot, placing it with the clean ones. 'Honey, you said something about pizza?' he asked, attempting to stop his own laughter. Michelle nodded, unable to speak, pointing with a shaking hand in the direction of the living room.

Tony cut them both a few slices of pizza, placing them on two plates. He felt happier than ever before in his life, delighted to have been invited to dinner on Tuesday, just a few days after she'd been to his place. So she couldn't cook, well, it was no big deal. He could, and he didn't mind doing so at all. In fact, he'd be thrilled to have her to dinner every night! It would be better for her too. He had noticed the lack of vegetables in her bin when he'd emptied whatever was movable from her pots. Her bin contained little else besides take-out packages. No, he would ask her to dinner as often as she'd come, even if it meant watching a romantic movie afterwards.

'Honey, you shouldn't laugh so hard when you're eating,' he told her, attempting to be serious. 'Lieutenant Almeida passed his first aid course that many years ago he's forgotten most of it by now, and he only barely scraped through anyway. So don't choke!'

Michelle swallowed her mouthful carefully, laying her hand against his cheek. 'I wish I would've met you back then, Tony. It would even have been fun to scrub pots with you.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'No, sweetheart, trust me, it wasn't so amusing then. It's not that great being yelled at whatever you do, sent to KP in the morning, training all day, sweeping the yard in the evening, and then being pulled up, sent to extra drill if you missed a leaf somewhere. It would've been a little easier, I guess, if my hair was a little lighter, and I had a name like Smith or Jones…' He paused, horrified. He had relaxed so completely he had allowed his guard to drop, allowed Michelle a glimpse at his deepest feelings, his lingering resentment, his insecurity. He grabbed the plates and the box and strode to the kitchen, wordless.

He heard her footsteps hurrying after him. Her hand rubbed his back while he turned the taps on, washing their plates, attempting to pull an impassive mask onto his face. 'Dammit', he thought furiously. 'What's wrong with you, Almeida? You've just shown her who you really are; you relaxed too deeply with her. You're gonna hurt real bad when she finds another guy.'

'Tony, look at me,' Michelle insisted, spinning him round to face her. 'Why did you go? We were talking.' She searched his face, reading nothing. 'They insulted you real bad, didn't they?' She reached up, attempting to pull some expression onto his face. 'It's ok now; I won't let anyone hurt you again!'

Tony gave a snort, removing her hand from his face. 'Honey, I'm not mad at my sergeant, I'm mad at me. I should've put it aside years ago.' He turned back to the dishes, chewing his lip. 'You just can't learn to keep your mouth shut, can you, Almeida? Now you've spoilt the evening! You'll be lucky if she spends five minutes over coffee with you at work from now on!'

'Forget the dishes, Tony,' she told him, rubbing his back firmly between his shoulders. Despite himself he began to relax a little. She must have felt some of the iron rigidity leaving his back, for she rubbed him even harder. 'Let's go for a walk. I love to show you off.' She took his hand, drawing him after her. 'You don't even realize how handsome you are, do you?'

He felt a smile creep across his face. He shook his head gently, still chewing his lip. 'Honey, I need to make you an appointment with an optometrist! OK, let's go for a walk. It's warm enough.' The walk would be just the thing to settle him, he knew. He would work off his tension, and maybe forgive himself his slip. She was still holding his hand; she just told him he was handsome. She really believed it too, he could read her face as easily as an open book. Maybe he hadn't driven her away after all.

'You busy after work tomorrow, Tony?' she asked him as they returned. She had entertained him with stories of her own childhood, making him laugh, helping him forget his slip, giving him back the confidence to hold her close, to kiss her. His love for her deepened by the minute. He resolved to work extra hard at keeping certain thoughts away, he could not risk loosing her.

'I've got something on until 7:30. Look, Michelle, we should both take a break from cooking.' He noted a flash of disappointment in her eyes. He cursed himself again. Why was he unable to talk to her without causing her pain? 'I mean, I'd like to take you out, to a real special place. I guess we're both ok with facing other people now.'

She nodded, giving him a smile that melted his heart. 'Tony, I really love you,' she told him, pulling his face down for a kiss.

Tony felt as though he would burst. 'Me too,' he whispered softly, before kissing her goodnight and rushing down the corridor.

As usual, he glanced up from his monitor, searching the floor for her the next morning. He had arrived early, hoping to complete a little more work before he would have to begin analyzing Intel. A few different plans for reconstructing CTU required his attention. By the end of the day he would have to make a decision, and they were all promising. His eyes lit up. Michelle had arrived; she was sitting at her desk. He couldn't help noticing her new blue top, contrasting so vividly with her hair. She had that loose curl again. His fingers reached forward to tuck it behind her ear, hitting the glass wall of his office. He laughed in amusement. 'Just as well you came in an hour early, Almeida! You're not gonna get much done for a while…'

His phone rang, startling him. 'CTU Almeida,' he answered, watching her hands moving deftly over the keyboard.

'Tony, have you decided which plan you prefer? I'll need to come down and give you my ok later this afternoon.'

Tony straightened rapidly. 'Mr. Chappelle. I'm about done now. You could come right after lunch.'

He heard Chappelle's irritating voice pause for a moment. 'No, Tony, I won't be able to make it "right after lunch." I'll come after 2:30.'

Tony rubbed his face irritated. 'Mr. Chappelle I've got something scheduled for 3:00. I'm not going to be able to make it.'

'Send someone else!' Chappelle said firmly. 'We're going to decide how to renovate CTU. I realize working in an empty concrete environment doesn't bother you, Almeida, but it's time to put the pieces together again. I'll meet you in the conference room.'

'Yes sir,' Tony sighed. He frowned in annoyance. It was all very well to be told to send someone else, but his task was not exactly work related. Michelle was still busy on her computer, sitting in exactly the same position. He picked up the phone, dialing her. 'Michelle, could you come upstairs for a moment?'

He watched her climbing the steps, admiring her beauty. 'Hi Tony,' she said shyly, answering his grin with her own. Tony drew the blinds and pulled her into his arms, kissing her firmly on the lips, feeling her tongue pushing deep into his mouth. He held her close, longing to remain with her in his arms all day. 'Michelle, can I ask you a favor? It would mean leaving work around 2:30, for an hour or so.'

'Sure,' she replied. 'Where do I go?'

'Ah, its personal business.' He rubbed his face, turning to his desk to withdraw a large photograph of a golden haired child. 'That's my niece, Sandy. She's at school right now, and she's supposed to go to home round 3:00. My sister's at the doctor then, she'll get back as soon as she can. My mom would've picked her up, but her car's not working, and Chappelle insists on coming to talk about the plans right then, so…'

'I'll pick her up,' Michelle told him, taking the photo. 'She's really sweet. Look at her hair. She doesn't look anything like you.'

'She looks like her father,' Tony replied, hoping Michelle hadn't noticed his frown. 'If you could just take her to a park for an hour, you can drop her home afterwards.'

'Tony, I need to know which school and where she lives,' Michelle told him mischievously. 'You forgot the details, again!'

He drew her towards him, kissing her deeply, interrupted by a knock on his door. They drew apart rapidly, Michelle leaving his office.

Tony paced back and forth, his restlessness a tangible thing. The longer he thought about Michelle, the more he felt like shaking the bars, forcing them open with his bare hands. A real shame Saunders was dead, he reflected. He would have taken him apart, limb from limb, for frightening his wife, having his hired goons hold a knife to her throat! His face burned with rage at the memory.

And what if it happened again sometime? What if Michelle was sent out on a dangerous assignment, and he wasn't around to stop her? What if she got hurt somewhere? He wouldn't even know about it, stuck behind a high wall, surrounded by bars, locked away from the world in a steel cage!

He slammed his fist into the wall, forgetting it was swollen, feeling a wave of pain slam into it, spreading up his arm. The pain forced him to stop and breathe deeply to avoid a scream. They really, really had to let him out!