Question of Finality
Synopsis: What if Tony and Michelle had never gotten together, what if Mason had never given Michelle his speech that led to her asking Tony out? Well, I'm going to explore these options... nothing has ever happened between our favorite couple, they are not married, they have not gone on a single date... and they never even shared that INCREDIBLY HOT Tony/Michelle kiss in the dark hallways of CTU in that nuclear disaster! What did they do, you ask?... Well... maybe they,um.. played Old Maid? I have no idea. However, the sexual tension from season 2 is there... just.. add three years to it. Think of it as season 2 times A BILLION on the sexual tension train. They dance around each other, get WAY too close to each other.. they're best friends. I'll cover this in the fic, however... so it's best not to go into detail.
Timeline: We're basically set at the beginning of season 3, it's exactly the freakin same... save for T/M moments, which when you think about it was a HUGE part of season 3. So, it's not exactly the freakin same, it's actually really really different. I just hope I can do the two characters justice.
Author's notes: This is my first on going saga fic... I will need encouragement while doing this. Also, I will not be going into that much detail of the events surrounding all the terroristic stuff.. cause it's almost the same as the season 3 plot line, except for Tony and Michelle and how they act around and about each other.
"Your blood is a beacon, splattered on these pristinevirgin white walls.."
Chapter 1 "Beacon"
As she walked in the building, she felt trepidation creep and crawl into her stomach. As she waited at the double doors that would bring her into the facility, she relayed the day's events for herself in her head.
She had gotten out of bed unusually early, even for herself, around 4:30, her body restless and shaky for a reason unknown to herself. Out of habit, she'd reached to her night stand, switched on the light and had quietly padded over to where her jogging clothes sat and quietly but quickly put them on her exhausted body. First stretching in the privacy of her own home, she had set about her normal route, three miles that wound around her quiet and darkened neighborhood. She'd stepped back in only
twenty minutes later, winded, her chest moving rapidly up and down from the intensity of the run. Without thought, she had stepped into her shower, the temperature barely lukewarm to further stimulate her sweaty but tired form. Little time passed before she was showered up, dressed, and heading into the city for breakfast and coffee before heading off to work. She hated to cook, and figured it better to go and stuff herself with something fattening rather than run the risk of actually attempting to prepare something for herself that was in the least bit nutritional... and as a result burn herself and her apartment complex down to the ground. Fattening she could handle, she'd decided, third degree burns she could not.
The drive had been uneventful over to McClullen's Bakery. She had bought a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, the biggest that they carried. She had long ago told herself that she would stop consuming caffeine. That promise, however, came to her before she started to suffer from the onslaught of age... and before she had even begun work at CTU. The time before she had joined the Counter Terrorist Unit seemed a blur, it didn't even register to her sometimes that she had worked at Division before... Then again, a lot of things had happened at CTU that weren't exactly forgettable.
Four years ago, she had met her best friend, Tony Almeida.
Four years ago, she had seen him for the first time, still slightly aloof from being involved with a woman who had betrayed everyone she had ever come in contact with, including the government that she worked for and had sworn to protect.
Four years ago, she had smiled at him as her introduced her to the staff and proceeded to show her the ropes of how to work their new software.
Four years ago, she had looked at him with respect, and something akin to affection.
Three and a half years ago, she'd realized that she had fallen in love with him.
Three years ago, they had been bombed and over half of the employees were killed. She still sometimes replays those images in her head and whenever she does, more often than not, she shivers and cringes inwardly at the unsettling feelings that pass through her bod.
Three years ago, on the day of the bombing, in the midst of chaos and confusion and blood and death and horror, she had thought that she had seen Tony on the floor underneath overturned structures, bloody and dying. She had begun to cry then, and had closed her eyes, relishing in the love that she had for the man, her best friend, who she often went out to coffee with after work to simply talk and unwind after the day's usually stressful events. She had made a plea to the God that she never talked to in those moments, asked Him to spare Tony, to give him life in exchange for her own, prayed to Him that if he would be spared, that she would let go of her selfish, silly feelings of devotion. It would be s mall price to pay, she had thought, because Tony had never paid any romantic attention to her anyway... The prayers flooded through her mind rampantly as she whispered and sobbed Tony's name.
'I swear,' she had thought to herself in those moments of hell and confusion, 'That if you save him, I'll let him go. Just please, let him live."
Tears running freely down her face, she reached out to touch the man, her Tony.
And suddenly, she had heard a voice. Turning in one fluid motion, she had see him then, alive, awake, so FUCKING alive, and her heart had rejoiced. And then deflated. She had looked up at the sky, had remembered her promise. Had remembered the pretenses of their agreement. Tears still flowing from her face, she had closed her eyes in disgust and shame and disbelief. She had felt ridiculous and foolish... after all, God hadn't done this! God didn't... He couldn't...
With a final hitch to her breath, she had screamed his name, run to him, taken his order.
Three years ago, Michelle Dessler had made a promise to a God that she didn't believe in, said things in the midst of chaos and confusion that she still paid for and would always pay for, as far as she was concerned.
Today, three years later, she enters the same building that she has for as long as she can remember, because CTU holds almost all of her adult memories... and childhood has very little to do with her work.
Today, three years later, Michelle Dessler walks over to her work station, sets down her things, and prepares for another long, tension filled day full of terrorism and reality.
Today, three years later, Michelle Dessler sits down and immediately looks up from her work station to the glass office that holds her life, that holds the person that she has loved and longed and lusted for for four years.
Today, three years later, Michelle Dessler sees him coming down the stairs, with a smile on his features as he approaches her.
Today three years later, Michelle Dessler matches his smirk with one of her own but inwardly prepares herself for another day of pretending not to feel things for the man that she so strongly feels, and feels the all too familiar tightening of her chest as he speaks her name in the way that he always does, places his hand on her wrist in such a way that immediately brings him into focus.
Today, three years later, Stephen Saunders has a plan that will bring the United States and Tony Almeida to their knees.
Today, three years later, Jack Bauer and Tony Almeida have a plan that will hopefully put an end to any kind of threat of disease by way of a terrorist.
Today, three years later, Michelle Dessler thinks about that fateful day three years ago when she made a promise that she tells herself she doesn't believe in.
Still today, however, Michelle Dessler keeps that promise.
