A/N: This is a oneshot the idea for which came to me, rendering me helpless to resist writing it. Written somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but not entirely. Review appreciated.
Michelle Dessler was a woman who enjoyed prioritizing. With her job, she had to be fantastically good at getting straight her priorities of what mattered most, of who mattered most. Considering the amount of time she spent working with simply not enough time to protect the lives of many, she had to be able to know what was most important at any given time.
She knew the priorities she had to set in her work were difficult to handle. In the life she led, her own life itself ranked low on the list; it fell below the good of the agency, the good of the government, the good of the many, even the good of the few. She knew that.
In her own life; the life that was always on overdrive, the life of unpredictable, impossibly long hours, of crises that put the lives of hundreds, of thousands, sometimes even of millions on the line; she had to set her priorities.
The lives of innocents came first. No matter what, she always had to put the lives of innocents first. That was what she knew was right, and that was what her signature on those papers meant: that under any and all circumstances, she would put the lives of innocent Americans above all else.
And then, on Michelle's master list of priorities, came Tony, her Tony.
Followed by her work; not simply the immediate defense of lives, but of the long term prevention of their being in danger at all. Of the endless paperwork and protocol necessitated by the intensity of her work.
Michelle's own life cane next.
Then sex. With Tony. Anywhere, anytime. But… sex.
And, finally, then came things like… eating and sleeping and like maintaining her own existence and the ever-elusive "pursuit of happiness."
Yes, Michelle thought to herself as she completed the list, that was about right. She reread the list written in her favorite blue sharpie on a napkin with, bizarrely and pointlessly, the CTU insignia printed on it. She never did figure out why an agency so short on money that Chloe only had three computer systems to herself (What magic couldn't that woman work with a computer?) could afford to stamp its napkins. She reread the list, to check it.
-Lives of innocents
-Tony
-Work
-Staying alive
-Sex
-Eating, sleeping, etc.
-Family, friends, etc.
Her life neatly in order on that list scrawled onto her napkin, Michelle smiled to herself. She slipped the list into her pocket so she could save it; keep it for reference. When she got home, she could slip it inside a tampon box where she knew Tony would never, ever look. Her life would be safe.