As I turn to go back to the workstation- I call it 'the', for I cannot yet bring myself to think of it as my own-, Kim calls back to me. "Thanks, Tony. I appreciate the talk."
I smile, before leaving to go distract myself with work. It is a false smile, and I am sure that Kim can tell, but she is kind enough to ignore it. Is that all I am now, nothing more than a good listener?
No one will ever care for me again, the way Michelle did, I know, but the realization only sinks in completely as I leave the conference room where Kim is staying. I will never again feel completely accepted, comfortable within my own skin because I know that someone else accepts me.
Worse, perhaps, or an equal evil, I will never be able to love again, as I once did with Michelle. I will never give a piece of myself to another person, for the pain of losing tem is simply too great. As horrific as it was for me to discover that a woman I had trusted with my life- many times over- was a traitor to the country, the feeling, now, is many times multiplied. That first heartbreak had nearly ended my trust in women, but I was able to pull myself through it, after meeting Michelle. She was my anchor, my emotional safehouse. I will never have that now.
Part of me thinks back to the gun, still in my pocket. Unless the layout of CTU has been completely reconfigured since I was last year, the washrooms would still be easily accessible... It would be quiet, alone. Terribly easy. No one would notice my absence for awhile, perhaps, until an agent went to relieve himself.
Sighing softly, I return determinedly to my station. I have already considered this, I remind myself. I will not make a move until I have helped, even in a small way, to catch the people who hurt my Michelle. Sitting down, I occupy myself with the tasks Chloe has prepared for me until I can be of use to Jack. They are indeed mundane. Maybe they would seem most exciting, to some rookie who has just been transferred here, but they seem quite boring to me. Much of this work I once did on a regular basis, and my mind wanders again as I complete them.
I think back to this morning, a time I took for granted, as I did so much of the time I spent with Michelle. She had burnt the toast she had tried to make for breakfast, and foolishly I hadsnapped at her. I almost start to cry again at the mere memory, knowing that Michelle's last morning on this earth was spent in anger, of which I was the cause.
Shaking my head, I look back up at my computer screen, trying to distract myself once again. Never have I let my emotions run as freely as today, but it is a reaction that I cannot stop, despite my like to keep to myself. Never have I needed to be distracted as much as I have today. That is why I drank- so long ago, it seems. To distract myself from the utter pain of losing Michelle. I know that I may be driven to it again, as there is nothing left for me to do. I am faced with many long nights, alone in the house we once shared. I will not be able to sleep in our bed; the memory of Michelle is too close to me there. Nor on the couch, I think, where we sat so many nights, discussing our day, and our love for one another.
Ultimately, I know that Michelle knew I cared for her in her last moments, the crucial moments after the explosion but before she lost her life, if there was any such time. She was too clever a woman not to know. Part of me, though, wishes that I could be sure, sure that she was aware that I wish to have died in her place, sure that she knew how far my love for her extended. Indeed, I wish that our places had been exchanged. I would die many times over to give life to her, for Michelle was far too precious a gift to this world to be taken away so cruelly.
Jack Bauer's voice brings my thoughts back to the present as he calls me over to where he stands, not far from my desk. "Tony, I'm going to need your full attention" he explains calmly.
I know he does not mean to chastise me for my wandering mind, that he only wants to make sure my job is done correctly, but still, his implications perturb me.
"I know how to do my job, thanks, Jack." I rebut angrily.
"Sorry, Tony." is his lame reply. "I'm going to go under cover with the terrorists in about half an hour. You're going to have to run point from here. I'm meeting them at a secure location, so it shouldn't be too hard. I've got Curtis Manning and his alpha team set up, and you've got satellite feed all around the place, as well as the audio I'll be feeding you."
My mind wanders once again, but for this once I am not thinking about my wife. Desperately, I am processing the information Jack is giving me while trying to remember the informal briefing he gave me earlier.
"You've already been under cover with them, and you killed one of them to prevent the release of nerve gas." I say finally, "They'll recognize you. It's a suicide mission, Jack."
He shakes his head and gives me the standard, evasive answer. "We're very prepared, nothing should go awry, but if it does, Curtis-"
"Let me do it" I say suddenly, interrupting him. I have nothing left to live for, except perhaps to help stop the men who arranged to have my wife killed.Thatwill remain my ultimategoal, and I will not rest until everyone responsible is either dead or on Death Row.This mission would not only give me that chance, but also a chance to die in a dignified way, without having to stoop as low as suicide.
Jack does a double-take. Clearly, this was a twist he did not expect from me, although I am sure he understands my point of view. "Tony, you can't" he argues, before dropping some line about my experience not being sufficient, that I'll get through it, utter garbage.
"No." I say perseveringly, "I can do it, Jack, and you know it. You've got so much left to live for. You've got Kim, and Audrey. Don't jeopardize that. I've got nothing left to lose, Jack, they've taken everything I had."
Jack looks upset. For the first time, I think he realizes that Michelle's death was, however indirectly, caused by him. I do not blame him for anything that happened today, though. It is not his fault. Jack Bauer would never have intentionally caused harm to Palmer, or to Michelle. Or to me. He argues again, but it lacks conviction, and I know that seeing what losing my wife has done to me is creating doubt in his mind, doubt as to whether he should risk everything for the mission, as he has so often done before.
"Talk to Kim," I urge him, using his daughter as a last resort to keep him from wasting his life, "Before you leave, talk to Kim. Ask her how her life is. I mean really talk to her. Take ten minutes. Then you decide if you want to make her suffer through losing you again, after she's just found you again. You decide."
Turning on my heel, I return to my station without looking back at Jack, who is left standing awkwardly, alone on the middle of the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk towards the conference room, where Kim is. Good. Never one to heed others' advice, I seriously doubted that Jack would want to tell his daughter that he was leaving her...again. To all appearances, however, he was going to talk to her. Hopefully, she would change his mind, and he would let me go undercover in his place.
I knew that it was likely that the terrorists also knew what I looked like, as they had attempted to assassinate me along with Michelle, Palmer and Chloe, but I did not mind. I supposed I would be able to gather some information before they discovered who I really was, and then I would be killed. I would return to Michelle. It is difficult indeed to win against an enemy who wants to die, and who has nothing to lose. Suddenly, there is no leverage to be had against them.
Patiently, I wait for Jack's return, his decision. As I turn back to my monitor, I realize that my work is finished, the tasks given to me by Chloe all completed. Standing up shakily, for my head still aches from my recent surgery, I walk to Chloe. For the first time, I become dizzy as I walk, and hold on carefully to desks that I pass to avoid collapsing. I know that it has happened before, after I was shot in the neck, and it is liability if Jack decides to let me lead the operation. Ignoring this, I search for Chloe, until I locate her, typically seated at her computer.
"Chloe, you got anything else that needs to be done?" I ask, by way of greeting.
She looks up, annoyed that I interrupted whatever she had been doing previously. Raising her eyebrow, she says "Aren't you supposed to be helping Jack, Tony?"
"He's busy," I answer truthfully, "Is there anything I can do in the next ten minutes?"
She rolls her eyes. She is in a particular mood today, and evidently my pestering has not helped it. "It'll take more time to explain it to you than for me to just do it" she explains frusteratedly.
I sigh. "Sorry" I mutter, turning back to my computer. Jack is there already, I notice, waiting for me. "What?" I ask him irritably. I have a right to be irritable towards whomsoever I wish today, after all that has happened. I feel that if I do not build up these walls between the world, and my emotions, I will break down. I will not be able to continue.
"I'm not going," Jack says simply, "I talked to Kim. You're right, I've got too much, too many people counting on me..." he trails off.
"So I'll get ready then," I say, but it is less of a statement than it is a question. I want to be certain that Jack is giving me the release I so crave.
"No," he retorts sternly, "Agent Manning is going. I'm going to lead his team in his place. You're still leading tactical. Chloe will help you, along with Edgar and whoever else you may need. Tony, I can't let you give up on life, Michelle wouldn't have wanted it..."
He is right, I know. Michelle would have wanted me to continue, however impossible that may seem presently. And it does really seem as if I will be unable to proceed. Jack's words are meaningless to me at this point, and my knees start to buckle beneath me as the sheer hopelessness of the situation sets in.
"Excuse me" I whisper softly, walking towards where I believe the men's room still is. I am able to maintain my composure as I walk, an amazingly difficult task. Holding back the rush of tears and emotions running through me, I pass the desks and workstations of many agents, none of whom my brain is able to process and recognize. They are all but blurs to me, disfigured by the wetness at the corners of my eyes.
Opening the door to the washroom, I realize, to my relief, that no one is here. Sliding down the wall slowly, I allow myself a final breakdown of emotions. Everything I have strived to keep inside, while confronting Jack, and Kim, and Chloe, comes pouring out. All the tears previously unshed come pouring out in abundance. I sob softly as my world crumbles to nothing. All my thoughts turn to Michelle. The one thing I can not live without. The one thing I will be forced to live without.