Chapter Seven
How could he?
How could he betray her like that? Just use her, make her fall in love with him, marry her....she had been so happy that day, so proud of him in his uniform, standing tall at the front of the church. How could he do this to her, hurt her so easily?
Paige walked quickly down Nixon's main street, staring blindly ahead, deaf to people speaking to her on the street. Remembering the sight of the two of them together.
What was her name? What had he called her? Michelle?
Paige blinked away tears, tightening her grip on the handle of the stroller, picking up speed as images of the two of them together flashed through her mind. Images of them kissing, embracing, touching... She was exactly the sort of woman Ben found attractive, as well Tall, slender, dark eyed, with those curls for him to tangle his fingers in...
Desperately, Paige closed her eyes. But the images still remained, burnt into her memory, her imagination. She couldn't even blame him for straying. She wiped her eyes, then ran her hand across her stomach and hips, still feeling fat from her pregnancy. Imagining the disgust in Ben's eyes when he looked at her, her lip curling with her own disdain. Michelle was still slender, still desirable and he looked at her the way he had once looked at Paige.
She remembered all the times he had fallen asleep at his desk or on the couch since she had discovered she was pregnant. All the times she had gone down the stairs to wake him, to bring him back to their bed. What a fool she'd been, to be blind to how much he loathed her.
Jesus, she hated her. Hated them both. Hated them all.
Forgotten in her stroller, Rose started to cry.
"Anyway, he was playing football with his friends, and the bomb went off." Hunte shook his head, remembering the carnage of the day. "They never stood a chance."
"I'm sorry." The words seemed so inadequate, but they were all that Michelle had to offer him.
Hunte poured himself another drink, offering Michelle another one as well. She shook her head and covered her glass. "My wife fell apart. Brian had always been...Lucy had to do a lot of things with Brian that I should have done and couldn't. Because of the job."
Michelle looked around the bar. Pretending not to notice as Hunte wiped discretely wiped his eyes.
"Things were different between us afterwards. We were able to link Loughlin to that attack and a handful of others, but we were never able to make things stick against her. I started to drink a lot more as well." He shrugged. "We just drifted apart."
Again, Michelle let silence fall between them. Giving him the chance to recover his composure.
He poured himself another drink, not even bothering to offer her one this time. He took a mouthful, trying to drown the memories of the funeral, bury them with happier ones. He tried to laugh. "So what about you?" Trying desperately to lighten the mood, to change the subject.
"What about me?"
He pointed at her fingers, intertwined around the stem of her glass. "You aren't wearing a wedding ring. Anybody special back in LA?"
She smiled shyly, suddenly reluctant to meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah there is. His name's Tony."
"You been together long?"
"Not really." She started to play with one of the coins the waiter had left as change, spinning it across her knuckles. Feeling the alcohol start to batter at her own defences, at her own control. "Its complicated. He works at CTU." She took a drink, needing the courage to finish the story. "He's my boss."
He could feel his head starting to buzz, his limbs growing unresponsive to his commands. Ignoring the warnings coming from his brain, he lifted the glass to his lips again. "Is that a problem?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I hope not. I've been gone for less than a week and I miss him like crazy." She shrugged. "I don't know."
Michael stumbled to his feet, lurching a couple of steps towards her before he corrected his balance. "I think I've had too much to drink." He stumbled again, using the back of the chair to keep himself upright. "I'm going to go to bed. Night Michelle."
"Night Michael."
He stumbled away from the café, staggering towards another bar. He had a sudden instinctive need to get as drunk as he could, as quickly as he could.
Michelle watched him leave, stumbling from one side of the street to the other. Leaving her alone.
Ben Franklin hated paperwork. Always had, always would. Hated it so much he often left it for as long as he could, until there was a mountain of it, piled precariously on top of his desk.
Recent events in Nixon had generated a shit load of paperwork, as well as all the other paper pushing he had been neglecting. His desk was rapidly disappearing beneath the weight of it all.
He flinched when he heard a door in the house slam. Heard Paige's footsteps, angrily stalking across the floor, lifting their crying baby, shaken from her sleep by Paige's temper.
He finished writing another report, signed it and put it in his completed pile, still pitifully small compared to the amount of work he still had to do.
Paige had been in a foul temper since he had come home from work. One of the reasons he was trying to work his way through the backlog.
Dinner had been served in silence, his attempts at conversation greeted by a wall of ignorance and monosyllabic responses. She had kept her attention focused mostly on her plate, or on Rose. Only looking at him to make sure he could see the extent of the anger in her eyes.
Her moods were getting worse. He couldn't imagine her responding to a crisis, to the unfair demands it would place on her shoulders in the way that Michelle had. She had thrown everything to one side, her holiday, everything, to help him because he had asked, and it had needed to be done.
He threw his pen down on the table, pushing the paperwork away from him, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to get anymore work done now.
She was back in his head.
He tore a page from his notebook and scribbled a note for his wife on it. He left it on the coffee table, lifting his hat and keys as he went.
She was back in his head.
"Gimme another drink."
The barman glanced at him in concern, but poured him another shot. He lifted the glass, tilting it towards the light, watching the liquid rush about inside it.
He was drunk. Very drunk. And even that wasn't right.
He was shitfaced.
Shitfaced, yet the memories kept coming back. Memories of Lucy....of Brian, of the things he had said to Lucy after it had all...
He drank the shot down, trying to drown the voices.
His cell phone started to ring. Making his mood worse.
He glanced at the number and pushed the phone away from him. Signalling the barman for another drink.
"We have to be careful. It's a small town and the local police aren't THAT stupid."
"What about that one?" He pointed at a small, battered Ford, parked at the side of the main street.
"Perfect." She popped the door lock and slid into the driver's seat. Opening the passenger door for Nicholas. She fumbled with the ignition, smiling as the car kicked into life. "With this type of thing, timing is important. Especially when you don't have much equipment. It's different back home."
"How many do we need?"
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "This one. And another two. Gives us good coverage."
"So if we get another one tonight, and then maybe tomorrow afternoon." Nicholas fell quiet, trying to read her face to see what she was thinking. "Does that spread everything out? Give us enough time and keep the police off our backs?"
"Should do." She thought quickly through the time frame. "In fact, Nicholas, that should work out perfectly."
"Almeida."
"Hey Tony."
"Michelle. What the hell is going on up there?"
"Nothing Tony. It doesn't matter, it's all under control." She spoke quickly before he could ask her anymore about Nixon. "How are things back there?"
"Everything's okay. I told ya already Michelle, you don't need to worry about this place. What about Hunte? Was it him?"
"Yeah. Look Tony, it's a really long story. I'll tell you it all when I get back to LA, okay?"
"Okay."
"It's just...I'd rather talk to you, than about..."
"It's okay, Michelle. I'd rather talk to you as well."
"I miss you Tony." Thinking of Ben Franklin, of the way he was around his wife and child. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too." His voice had dropped, the some tone he used when he wanted the listeners attention. "CTU hasn't been the same without you. Although Chapelle's still being an asshole so at least that's kept me sane."
She couldn't stop herself laughing, just as her door knocked. "Listen Tony, someone's at the door. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye." She hung up and went to the door. She glanced through the peephole, smiled and opened the door. "Sheriff." Her smile faded quickly. "Is something wrong? Has there been...." She bit her lip before she said anything more.
She could change, just like that. From social and relaxed, to business and professional. Something else he admired her for.
"No, no. Nothing's happened." He produced a bottle of wine from behind his back. "This is a social call."
She laughed. "Come on in, Ben. I'll try and find some glasses. I hope you brought a corkscrew."
Ben pulled out a small corkscrew. "Never leave home without one." Grinning at her.
God, she had the most beautiful smile...
He managed to get his hands and his brain working in time to take the glasses of her and pour wine for them both.
Michelle sat on the floor facing him, crossing her legs beneath her. "So. How long have you and Paige been married?"
"Little over four years." He tried the wine, nodding in satisfaction at the taste. "We moved up here when we found out Paige was pregnant. Didn't think Vegas was a good place to raise a child."
"No I can see why you would think that. You've a beautiful family Ben." She wanted that. Wanted somebody to say that about her. Wanted Tony to be able to pull out a photo of her and their children and someone to tell him what a beautiful family he had.
She wanted what the Franklins had.
She nearly lost herself in the day dream.
"Thank you." He took another mouthful of wine. "Took Paige a while to settle in up here. I was workin' a lot and she was pregnant and didn't know anybody." He finished his wine and poured them both a fresh glass.
Michelle thought of her own move to LA. "Must have been rough for her, especially if she wasn't working. At least when I went to LA, I had work. You know, something to occupy my time and help me settle in." She sipped at the wine, her head starting to spin a little. "Must have been tough for you both."
Ben shook his head. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Put yourself in somebody else's place like that and know what they've been through. It's an amazing talent."
"I get lucky sometimes." She took another, longer drink, starting to get used to the wines taste. "It's not that amazing, Ben, believe me."
"I think you've been amazing since you got here." He flushed as he spoke, knowing that his mouth was moving too quickly for his brain. "I mean if you hadn't been here, if you hadn't agreed to help, if you hadn't found that information, we'd still be treating this as an accident."
Michelle closed her eyes, every word of praise another nail hammering into her conscience. She looked away, feeling the lies starting to spill from her eyes.
"Michelle?" Ben moved to sit closer to her. "Michelle, what's wrong?"
"I've been lying to you, Ben."
"You don't work for CTU?"
"No. No I work for CTU. But the Irish information, it didn't come from CTU. There's an Irish cop here, Michael Hunte. He's tracking a suspect named Sinead Loughlin."
"And he thinks she planted the bomb?"
"He does, yeah." Michelle shook her head, conscious of his nearness. "I'm sorry Ben. I didn't want to lie to you. His handlers...."
He interrupted her. "It doesn't matter Michelle."
Then he kissed her.
How could he?
How could he betray her like that? Just use her, make her fall in love with him, marry her....she had been so happy that day, so proud of him in his uniform, standing tall at the front of the church. How could he do this to her, hurt her so easily?
Paige walked quickly down Nixon's main street, staring blindly ahead, deaf to people speaking to her on the street. Remembering the sight of the two of them together.
What was her name? What had he called her? Michelle?
Paige blinked away tears, tightening her grip on the handle of the stroller, picking up speed as images of the two of them together flashed through her mind. Images of them kissing, embracing, touching... She was exactly the sort of woman Ben found attractive, as well Tall, slender, dark eyed, with those curls for him to tangle his fingers in...
Desperately, Paige closed her eyes. But the images still remained, burnt into her memory, her imagination. She couldn't even blame him for straying. She wiped her eyes, then ran her hand across her stomach and hips, still feeling fat from her pregnancy. Imagining the disgust in Ben's eyes when he looked at her, her lip curling with her own disdain. Michelle was still slender, still desirable and he looked at her the way he had once looked at Paige.
She remembered all the times he had fallen asleep at his desk or on the couch since she had discovered she was pregnant. All the times she had gone down the stairs to wake him, to bring him back to their bed. What a fool she'd been, to be blind to how much he loathed her.
Jesus, she hated her. Hated them both. Hated them all.
Forgotten in her stroller, Rose started to cry.
"Anyway, he was playing football with his friends, and the bomb went off." Hunte shook his head, remembering the carnage of the day. "They never stood a chance."
"I'm sorry." The words seemed so inadequate, but they were all that Michelle had to offer him.
Hunte poured himself another drink, offering Michelle another one as well. She shook her head and covered her glass. "My wife fell apart. Brian had always been...Lucy had to do a lot of things with Brian that I should have done and couldn't. Because of the job."
Michelle looked around the bar. Pretending not to notice as Hunte wiped discretely wiped his eyes.
"Things were different between us afterwards. We were able to link Loughlin to that attack and a handful of others, but we were never able to make things stick against her. I started to drink a lot more as well." He shrugged. "We just drifted apart."
Again, Michelle let silence fall between them. Giving him the chance to recover his composure.
He poured himself another drink, not even bothering to offer her one this time. He took a mouthful, trying to drown the memories of the funeral, bury them with happier ones. He tried to laugh. "So what about you?" Trying desperately to lighten the mood, to change the subject.
"What about me?"
He pointed at her fingers, intertwined around the stem of her glass. "You aren't wearing a wedding ring. Anybody special back in LA?"
She smiled shyly, suddenly reluctant to meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah there is. His name's Tony."
"You been together long?"
"Not really." She started to play with one of the coins the waiter had left as change, spinning it across her knuckles. Feeling the alcohol start to batter at her own defences, at her own control. "Its complicated. He works at CTU." She took a drink, needing the courage to finish the story. "He's my boss."
He could feel his head starting to buzz, his limbs growing unresponsive to his commands. Ignoring the warnings coming from his brain, he lifted the glass to his lips again. "Is that a problem?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I hope not. I've been gone for less than a week and I miss him like crazy." She shrugged. "I don't know."
Michael stumbled to his feet, lurching a couple of steps towards her before he corrected his balance. "I think I've had too much to drink." He stumbled again, using the back of the chair to keep himself upright. "I'm going to go to bed. Night Michelle."
"Night Michael."
He stumbled away from the café, staggering towards another bar. He had a sudden instinctive need to get as drunk as he could, as quickly as he could.
Michelle watched him leave, stumbling from one side of the street to the other. Leaving her alone.
Ben Franklin hated paperwork. Always had, always would. Hated it so much he often left it for as long as he could, until there was a mountain of it, piled precariously on top of his desk.
Recent events in Nixon had generated a shit load of paperwork, as well as all the other paper pushing he had been neglecting. His desk was rapidly disappearing beneath the weight of it all.
He flinched when he heard a door in the house slam. Heard Paige's footsteps, angrily stalking across the floor, lifting their crying baby, shaken from her sleep by Paige's temper.
He finished writing another report, signed it and put it in his completed pile, still pitifully small compared to the amount of work he still had to do.
Paige had been in a foul temper since he had come home from work. One of the reasons he was trying to work his way through the backlog.
Dinner had been served in silence, his attempts at conversation greeted by a wall of ignorance and monosyllabic responses. She had kept her attention focused mostly on her plate, or on Rose. Only looking at him to make sure he could see the extent of the anger in her eyes.
Her moods were getting worse. He couldn't imagine her responding to a crisis, to the unfair demands it would place on her shoulders in the way that Michelle had. She had thrown everything to one side, her holiday, everything, to help him because he had asked, and it had needed to be done.
He threw his pen down on the table, pushing the paperwork away from him, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to get anymore work done now.
She was back in his head.
He tore a page from his notebook and scribbled a note for his wife on it. He left it on the coffee table, lifting his hat and keys as he went.
She was back in his head.
"Gimme another drink."
The barman glanced at him in concern, but poured him another shot. He lifted the glass, tilting it towards the light, watching the liquid rush about inside it.
He was drunk. Very drunk. And even that wasn't right.
He was shitfaced.
Shitfaced, yet the memories kept coming back. Memories of Lucy....of Brian, of the things he had said to Lucy after it had all...
He drank the shot down, trying to drown the voices.
His cell phone started to ring. Making his mood worse.
He glanced at the number and pushed the phone away from him. Signalling the barman for another drink.
"We have to be careful. It's a small town and the local police aren't THAT stupid."
"What about that one?" He pointed at a small, battered Ford, parked at the side of the main street.
"Perfect." She popped the door lock and slid into the driver's seat. Opening the passenger door for Nicholas. She fumbled with the ignition, smiling as the car kicked into life. "With this type of thing, timing is important. Especially when you don't have much equipment. It's different back home."
"How many do we need?"
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "This one. And another two. Gives us good coverage."
"So if we get another one tonight, and then maybe tomorrow afternoon." Nicholas fell quiet, trying to read her face to see what she was thinking. "Does that spread everything out? Give us enough time and keep the police off our backs?"
"Should do." She thought quickly through the time frame. "In fact, Nicholas, that should work out perfectly."
"Almeida."
"Hey Tony."
"Michelle. What the hell is going on up there?"
"Nothing Tony. It doesn't matter, it's all under control." She spoke quickly before he could ask her anymore about Nixon. "How are things back there?"
"Everything's okay. I told ya already Michelle, you don't need to worry about this place. What about Hunte? Was it him?"
"Yeah. Look Tony, it's a really long story. I'll tell you it all when I get back to LA, okay?"
"Okay."
"It's just...I'd rather talk to you, than about..."
"It's okay, Michelle. I'd rather talk to you as well."
"I miss you Tony." Thinking of Ben Franklin, of the way he was around his wife and child. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too." His voice had dropped, the some tone he used when he wanted the listeners attention. "CTU hasn't been the same without you. Although Chapelle's still being an asshole so at least that's kept me sane."
She couldn't stop herself laughing, just as her door knocked. "Listen Tony, someone's at the door. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye." She hung up and went to the door. She glanced through the peephole, smiled and opened the door. "Sheriff." Her smile faded quickly. "Is something wrong? Has there been...." She bit her lip before she said anything more.
She could change, just like that. From social and relaxed, to business and professional. Something else he admired her for.
"No, no. Nothing's happened." He produced a bottle of wine from behind his back. "This is a social call."
She laughed. "Come on in, Ben. I'll try and find some glasses. I hope you brought a corkscrew."
Ben pulled out a small corkscrew. "Never leave home without one." Grinning at her.
God, she had the most beautiful smile...
He managed to get his hands and his brain working in time to take the glasses of her and pour wine for them both.
Michelle sat on the floor facing him, crossing her legs beneath her. "So. How long have you and Paige been married?"
"Little over four years." He tried the wine, nodding in satisfaction at the taste. "We moved up here when we found out Paige was pregnant. Didn't think Vegas was a good place to raise a child."
"No I can see why you would think that. You've a beautiful family Ben." She wanted that. Wanted somebody to say that about her. Wanted Tony to be able to pull out a photo of her and their children and someone to tell him what a beautiful family he had.
She wanted what the Franklins had.
She nearly lost herself in the day dream.
"Thank you." He took another mouthful of wine. "Took Paige a while to settle in up here. I was workin' a lot and she was pregnant and didn't know anybody." He finished his wine and poured them both a fresh glass.
Michelle thought of her own move to LA. "Must have been rough for her, especially if she wasn't working. At least when I went to LA, I had work. You know, something to occupy my time and help me settle in." She sipped at the wine, her head starting to spin a little. "Must have been tough for you both."
Ben shook his head. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Put yourself in somebody else's place like that and know what they've been through. It's an amazing talent."
"I get lucky sometimes." She took another, longer drink, starting to get used to the wines taste. "It's not that amazing, Ben, believe me."
"I think you've been amazing since you got here." He flushed as he spoke, knowing that his mouth was moving too quickly for his brain. "I mean if you hadn't been here, if you hadn't agreed to help, if you hadn't found that information, we'd still be treating this as an accident."
Michelle closed her eyes, every word of praise another nail hammering into her conscience. She looked away, feeling the lies starting to spill from her eyes.
"Michelle?" Ben moved to sit closer to her. "Michelle, what's wrong?"
"I've been lying to you, Ben."
"You don't work for CTU?"
"No. No I work for CTU. But the Irish information, it didn't come from CTU. There's an Irish cop here, Michael Hunte. He's tracking a suspect named Sinead Loughlin."
"And he thinks she planted the bomb?"
"He does, yeah." Michelle shook her head, conscious of his nearness. "I'm sorry Ben. I didn't want to lie to you. His handlers...."
He interrupted her. "It doesn't matter Michelle."
Then he kissed her.