Hi! I thought this up while watching the first couple of episodes of season 4. I'm not sure if it has been shown in all countries yet, but I don't think this will ruin the story line for anyone. Jack no longer works for CTU, he is an aide to the Secretary of Defense. The CTU director is Erin Driscoll.

I have no idea how the season will end, but I know how I want it to end. So here it is.

Oh, by the way, all of the usual stuff. I don't own any of the characters but wish I did.

Please read and review. This is a little different from my other stories. It should only be about four or fivechapters long. So I won't keep you on the hook for months like I did with the others.

Chapter 1

The Day After: 7:01 am

It was over and, once again, CTU prevailed. No thanks, of course, to Erin Driscoll. She had been a bitch on wheels with an ego the size of Montana all day. He sat back in his chair and put his head back. He couldn't help but smile. He had been away from CTU for 18 months, but it was like he never left. He hadn't given the place much thought in those 18 months; there were too many other things to think about. His life had changed and CTU wasn't a part of it any more. There was no point in spending time worrying about CTU. It was there before he got there and it would be there long after he was gone. He was no more indispensable than anyone else that ever worked there. Hell, George was dead, Ryan was dead; any number of agents that he worked with over the years were dead, but CTU went on without missing a beat. He had to admit, there were occasional moments late at night when memories of CTU flooded his brain. They were rarely happy memories, though and he did his damnedest to squash them. Once in a while he thought about sitting in his office high above the bullpen and looking down on his kingdom. He sighed; this place had practically killed him. He had worked countless hours and invested his entire self into CTU and look where it had gotten him. But if he was going to be truthful with himself, he would have to admit that he loved this place. After all that had happened here, he still loved it.

He didn't usually pat himself on the back; that wasn't his personality, but he knew he had done a stellar job today. He knew that he saved lives. He knew that without his help, things would have ended differently. He wondered if they would tell the press that. He wondered if the press would in turn report his actions today with the same fervor that they had crucified him for his actions on the day of the bioterrorist attack. Unlikely, he thought, but it didn't matter. In his mind he knew what he had done and in many ways he was prouder of himself today than any other day of his life.

When he got up yesterday morning, he had no idea that he would end up doing his old job. If someone had told him that he would be working at CTU when the sun rose this morning he would have asked them what they were smoking. But the second he walked through the door he felt the adrenaline rush. He couldn't wait to get to work. He loved directing people, shouting out orders and having people respond to him. He went between computer screen, headphones in place, watching the satellite feeds and directing the response. The only difference was that this time he was doing it while shackled to the desk. As a federal prisoner, they couldn't take the chance that he might use this opportunity to bolt. They also couldn't take the chance that Jack might help him do it.

He had been awake for 25 hours now, since 6 o'clock yesterday morning when the lights came on and the wake up buzzer sounded in his cell block. He rolled out of his bunk, washed up and shaved in the basin in the corner of his cell next to the toilet and dressed in the familiar blue jeans and denim work shirt with his number, AL256731, stenciled across the back. He pulled on white socks and work boots and then exited his cell and stood in line for roll call. He said "good morning" to the guys in the nearby cells. These guys weren't exactly violent criminals. Most of them had committed white collar crimes: securities fraud, internet violations and similar computer and money oriented crimes. They had an average age of 45 years and were generally intelligent and well educated. Most had sentences of less than ten years and most were eligible for parole long before that. Tony had already watched several come and go. Next it was off to breakfast and then to his job in the prison library. The library job was a pretty cushy one as prison jobs go. He started out in the kitchen just like all other new prisoners and had to wait for something else to open up. Once it did, he could bid on that job just like any other prisoner. He bid on the library job a couple of months after he got there and was given the job over some other longer term prisoners because of his extensive computer experience. The work was easy and it gave him a chance to be the first to read new books as they came in. It also gave him a chance to make a good impression on the warden.

Just a few weeks after he started working in the library, he discovered a hole in the computer network that could allow for a breach of security. A number of the inmates were hackers and if they discovered this they could easily exploit it and set up all kinds of illegal businesses on the internet. He brought it to the attention of the warden and was given special permission to correct the problem. Shortly after that the warden started bringing other computer concerns to him and asked him to look at the network security and the computer systems that controlled some of the physical security of the facility. Some of the other inmates considered Tony a "suck up" but he ignored them. He wasn't here to make friends. If this was what it took to make a good impression and get a recommendation when the parole board looked at his case, he was willing to do it.

Tony opened the library as usual at 8:30 yesterday and turned on all of the computers. He did a quick internet search for the morning news. That was when he learned that a terrorist bomb had derailed a commuter train. He watched the story with interest, checking every few minutes to see if any new information was available. Within the hour he learned that the Secretary of Defense had been kidnapped along with his daughter. Several Secret Service agents had been killed. Didn't Jack work for the Secretary of Defense now? He wondered if Jack was alright.

It was around 11 o'clock when the corrections officer in the library got a call from his superior.

"Almeida," he said, "the warden wants to see you in his office now." The officer knew that Tony was one of the few inmates who didn't mind trips to the warden's office. Usually a call from the warden meant that you were in trouble, but in Tony's case it probably meant that the warden needed help.

He reached the warden's office and knocked on his door. The secretary called for him to come in. Tony entered the room. It was a very basic office. The secretary had a small reception area with dozens of file drawers behind her. The door that led to the warden's office was off to the right.

"Hi, Tony," The secretary, a woman not much younger than Tony's mother, said as she looked up from her computer screen. She was one of the few prison employees that used his first name. "Warden Holmes is waiting for you. Go ahead in."

"Thanks, Miss Dillon," He answered.

Tony rapped lightly on the warden's door then entered as he had been instructed. The warden was on the phone but motioned for Tony to come in and take a seat.

"Let me cut to the chase here, Almeida," he said as he hung up the phone. "Since you work in the library I suspect that you already know that there has been a terrorist attack and the Secretary of Defense has been kidnapped."

"Yes sir. I know that."

"I got a call from CTU. They are asking to borrow you to help run a tactical unit."

"They want me to run a tactical unit?" Tony asked in disbelief.

"Apparently they are short handed and this is your area of expertise. I told them I was willing to arrange it if you agreed."

"If I agreed to do it would I get special consideration?"

"Special consideration?"

"A reduced sentence or guaranteed parole, something like that. I'm willing to negotiate."

"I have no authority to negotiate, Almeida. You can say 'yes' or 'no'. That's your choice. I will tell you that cooperating with CTU will look good when you come up for parole. Refusing won't effect you either way, not in the short term or in the future when the parole board looks at your record. This is simply a chance to help your country, Almeida and to get out of here for a few hours."

Tony looked at the floor for a few minutes while he thought. His first instinct was to say 'no' just to spite them. "Who contacted you, Warden? Who is asking for my help?"

"Let me find his name here," Holmes put on his glasses and shuffled some papers on his cluttered desk. "Here it is. His name is Jack Bauer."

"Jack Bauer? I find it hard to believe that an aide to the Secretary of Defense has the authority to pull me out of a federal prison even in the event of a terrorist attack. Who authorized this request, Sir?"

"Mr. Bauer has authorization from the President of the United States. I know your computer skills are impressive, but if the President is willing to authorize a furlough from a federal penitentiary, you are obviously one of the best in your field."

This type of request was unprecedented and Tony knew it. Whatever was happening was big and obviously Jack was right in the thick of it. He wasn't sure he wanted to help CTU after the way he and Michelle were treated but he knew that he wanted to help Jack.

"The answer is 'yes'. Jack Bauer's my friend and if he's calling me in, then I'm willing to do it."

CTU sent a helicopter to pick him up. Tony remembered his last helicopter trip when he went to the mall to pick up Kyle Singer. He ended up getting shot just minutes later. The flight was less than a half hour. They landed on the CTU helipad and Tony was escorted into the building by a young security guard that he had never met before. As he looked around he hoped to see familiar faces but found that there were few people left that he knew. Most of the employees that were loyal to him and to Jack had transferred to other departments or quit, angry over the way the two of them had been treated and unhappy that Erin Driscoll had been named Director.

His eyes went instinctively to his upstairs office and then to Michelle's work station. He almost expected to see her there but he knew she didn't work here any more. She quit right after Tony was arrested.

The security guard led Tony up to Erin Driscoll's office; his old office. Erin motioned for him to come in. Erin hadn't changed much. Tony knew her from when she worked at Division. She was tough as nails and without personality then and he could see that she hadn't evolved much since he last saw her.

"Tony," she said tersely. "Let's get this straight. I don't want you here and I'm not happy that you've been brought in, but Jack Bauer seems to have a direct line to the President and Jack wants you here. Consequently, I've been overruled. Here are the ground rules. I've had a workstation set up for you. Of course, you'll be shackled to the desk. I don't need you hatching some sophomoric escape plan. You will perform only the tasks I give to you and if I catch you answering to anyone else you'll find your ass back in prison so fast you won't know what hit you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Erin, if you're trying to scare me, I'm way beyond that point in my life. You've already told me that I'm here because Jack Bauer wants me here and that the President has authorized it. I'm not answering to you, I'm answering to Jack. If you send me back to prison you might as well write your resignation letter at the same time because your ass will be fired before mine is back in prison."

Tony settled in at a workstation near Chloe. He saw a few people that he knew and they all approached timidly to say 'hello'. The conversations were brief and awkward; no one quite knew what to say to him. Mercifully, everyone was too busy to make small talk anyway so they returned quickly to their stations and continued to work. Jack called in and got Tony started on some satellite surveillance and coordination of roadblocks with local authorities.

Tony was deep in thought and looking down at the computer screen while he talked to LAPD. He heard a pair of high heels clicking in a familiar cadence on the tile floor. He drew a quick breath and looked up. There she stood, she was looking the other way, but he recognized the curve of her body, her long slender legs, her thick brown curls.

"Can I help you?" A CTU staffer asked her.

"Hi, I'm Michelle Dessler. I'm an analyst on loan from the FBI. I guess I need to see Erin Driscoll."

"Miss Driscoll's office is…"

"I know where it is," Michelle cut him off, her tone biting. "It used to be my husband's office." She stepped toward the stairs to Erin's office without waiting for the staffer to respond.

Tony watched her go. She trotted gracefully up the stairs; her feet barely touching each step, her loose curls bouncing around her face. "I didn't know you were bringing Michelle in," he commented to Chloe.

"I didn't know either," Chloe told him. "Is this going to be awkward for you two? I heard you got a divorce. That was pretty crumby of her to divorce you after you went to prison for saving her life."

Chloe's social skills haven't improved any in the last 18 months, Tony thought. "She didn't ask for the divorce, Chloe, I did. Do you every talk to her?"

"No, she avoids this place like the plague. We've needed to borrow an FBI analyst in the past and we asked for her but she always refused. This time I guess they didn't give her the chance to refuse."

Tony glanced up toward Erin's office. He still couldn't see Michelle's face but didn't have to see it to know that it was as beautiful as ever. He forced himself to look at the computer screen and concentrate on the satellite images in front of him.

It was a couple of minutes before Michelle started down the stairs. She turned to the left and went to the IT office without ever looking toward the out of the way desk where Tony was sitting. Tony settled back into the work at hand. He glanced up as often as possible hoping to catch sight of Michelle.

A couple of hours had passed and Tony had his back turned looking at the monitor on the desk behind him when Michelle finally came out from IT. She was discussing a report with one of the intelligence specialists when Chloe, who was talking to Jack on a phone a couple of desks away from Tony, called out to him. "Tony, pick up line three. Jack needs to talk to you."

Without looking up, Tony replied, "Got it, Chloe." He picked up the phone. "Jack, I need to download some schematics to your system. I've also got some satellite images you'll be interested in."

Michelle let out a startled gasp when she heard his voice.

"Are you okay?" Asked the intelligence officer she was working with.

Michelle stared blankly at Tony for a few seconds without hearing the man speaking to her.

"Ms. Dessler, are you okay?" He repeated.

"I'm…I'm fine," she responded as she watched Tony hang up the phone. "Give me a second, please." Michelle stepped toward Tony's desk. "Tony?"

He turned at the sound of her voice. "Michelle," he said softly. "I see you got called in, too."

"Yeah, I did. I didn't know you were here."

"I saw you when you came in but you didn't see me. I saw you going toward IT, but I'm not exactly at liberty to walk around and visit people," he said indicating the shackle on his leg.

"Oh God! Why do they have to do that?" She turned her head as if unable to look and blinked away tears.

"It's standard operating procedure. You know that, Michelle. They can't take a chance that I might escape. I would do the same thing if I were in Erin's position."

"I know, but it's wrong. If they want you to help them, then they should commute your sentence."

"I wouldn't have come in if anyone other than Jack had asked." They were both silent for a moment. "So, I heard you say you're working for the FBI."

"Yeah, computer crimes division."

"That's a good position for you."

Michelle shrugged. "I guess. I don't think about it much. It's a job."

"Ms. Dessler," a voice called.

"I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later," Michelle told him trying to smile.

"Right," Tony responded.

It was hours later when Michelle brought a report out to Tony. The mood at that point was tense, not just between them but for everyone. They spoke in business-like terms as Michelle pointed out the important areas in the report to Tony. As she handed it over to him their hands touched lightly. Tony felt as if an electrical current had run from his hand to his heart. He looked into her eyes and knew she felt the same way. Hours later when the crisis was finally over, Tony realized that he hadn't seen Michelle again. He suspected that she was avoiding him and that was okay, he understood.

The crisis was finally over. Several people came over to thank Tony for all of his help and to tell him that they couldn't have done it without him. Tony was gratified to know the part he had played but the grim reality that he was on his way back to prison settled over him like a blanket.

"Mr. Almeida," said Paul Reese, a long time CTU security guard who had worked under Tony while he was CTU director. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have to take you to holding room two. It looks like it might be a couple of hours before we have anyone free to take you back to… I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize, Paul. You're just doing your job. I knew this little taste of freedom wasn't going to last very long, but I enjoyed it while it did."

"It seems wrong, sir," Paul told him as he handcuffed him and then removed the shackle from his ankle to walk to the holding room. "You were a hero today. I shouldn't be putting you in handcuffs."

"Look, Paul, I did what I did 18 months ago and I've never denied it and I'm not sorry I did it. I'm paying the price for it. It's me who has to live with that, not you." Tony paused for a second when they reached the holding room for Paul to remove the handcuffs. "Hey, any chance you can get me some coffee from that coffee bar next door. The coffee in the joint sucks. I'd love a good cup of coffee."

"You got it, sir," Paul said smiling. "How do you take it?"

"Very large and very black," Tony told him, his sense of humor still intact.

"Give me a few minutes. I'll be right back."