A/N: Please note that CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE to the first two chapters in order to rectify what I identified to be a rather gaping plothole in regards to the threat. I don't like writing threats and I'm not particularly good at it- I prefer to think of it as writing situations that get Michelle in the field. That just entails coming up with a situation for her to be there. ;) Anyway, nothing big, but changes nonetheless. As always, I appreciate reviews.
It had been almost half an hour with absolutely no idea what was happening with Michelle. They couldn't order the teams in, yet. They needed an agent with specific qualifications to handle such a sensitive situation, and Jack had still not arrived. To send in teams without the proper training would compromise Michelle's position, whatever it was.
Everything inside Tony was breaking during those endless minutes. Michelle. His Michelle. Damnit, he should have gone. He should never have let her out there. Michelle. She was in there with multiple armed terrorists, by herself and at a strategic disadvantage.
Never mind that this particular terrorist was known for his poor execution of close-contact field ops. Never mind that Michelle was an agent with training and experience that made standard law officers look like hopelessly naive, incompetent children. Never mind that Michelle was smart and resourceful enough to get out of every damning situation she'd been in before. That was his Michelle in there and he couldn't protect her.
She had to be okay. He couldn't live without her; he knew he never could. He could never live with himself if anything happened to her because he let her go out there. He couldn't. Why hadn't he told her how much he loved her? Why had he been so short with her lately? Michelle. His thoughts were rudely interrupted when he heard Michelle's second-in-command come in over comm.
"Move, all teams move! We just got the order from Dessler, hostiles down but still alive, we need to go in now!" The sound of pounding footsteps and cocking guns sounded over the speaker.
"Is Michelle okay?" Tony asked, as sweet relief flooded through him hearing that she was still alive.
The field agents, though, never heard the question. Chloe had clamped her hand over their end of the sound as soon as she knew where he was going. "What the hell are you doing, Tony? They need to concentrate on not getting killed by terrorists; they don't have time for that. Every second counts and you know it."
"Michelle…"
"Well, clearly she's alive, or she wouldn't be giving orders, would she? I think it's highly inappropriate that you're letting your relationship with Michelle interfere with your work, and I really think that's something Division should be aware of-"
"Chloe, that's enough, goddamnit!"
As her teams swarmed into the building, Michelle stood back, electing not to reenter. She was annoyed with herself for not being able to lead her own teams, but she felt dizzy and everything hurt so badly…
"Dessler? Michelle, what the hell happened?" An agent who was moving in to close the hard perimeter was the first to see their lead agent since her comm had gone down. He found her standing at the edge of the house, her gun held to the window by an unsteady hand, with blood pouring from her arm and face.
"I didn't have access to infrared after my comm went off and they found me before I found them. I'm fine." This was, depending on interpretation, the truth or not. She had some fairly severe stab wounds, a bullet hole in her arm, and had been knocked out for several minutes, but in terms of field ops, she was fine. She was alive and she had no immediately critical injuries.
"I got this exit," the agent said simply, "head over to medical."
"Yeah." Michelle, drawing on all the strength remaining in her body, made her way over to where her teams had set up. She approached the tactical agent who had been left directing field comm.
"Agent Dessler?"
"Yeah," she murmured, putting pressure on her arm to staunch the flow of blood.
"You need medical."
"I need them to stop the bleeding, but I'm going to need to go back to CTU and deal with the interrogations; we don't have much time."
The agent was already calling over medical. "You don't really look like you're going to be able to…"
"Look, I'll have CTU medical deal with it, but I am going back to CTU as an agent, not a patient. Make that clear."
"Agent Dess-"
"That's an order." Michelle was vaguely aware of the medic stopping the blood, but she was paying more attention to the comm unit. Over it, she heard the words she'd been waiting for.
"All hostiles in custody. I repeat: all hostiles in custody."
Her response was immediate. "I want one team sweeping the building for everything you can find and the rest of you to bring them back to CTU for interrogation. Don't waste time, because we don't have any." Michelle extended the control she'd gotten over her hurting body to take command over the current situation; it was the only thing that mattered right then.
And then she heard Tony's voice over comm. "Michelle. Oh my god, Michelle. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine…" Michelle hesitated, unwilling to let Tony know what kind of condition she was in. He wasn't going to be pleased- but he'd find out soon enough anyway, best to just get it over with.
"Are you hurt? What happened, Michelle?"
"I, uh… I got shot in the arm. Some stab wounds around that… a pretty deep lac on the side of my face… and I might've gotten a concussion."
"Hold on, what? Concussion?" demanded the medic who had been staunching the blood flowing out of Michelle.
"Uh- yeah. I got hit, and I was knocked out for awhile…"
"Oh, Jesus," the medic muttered, seeing the angry swell at the back of Michelle's head.
"Oh my god, Michelle…"
"I'll be fine. I'm going to interrogate Linden on the way back to CTU," stated Michelle decisively, determined that Tony continue to treat the way he would any other agent. "So, uh…" Michelle stepped away from the medic, who had gotten her face and arm temporarily bandaged, "How hard can I push him?"
"As hard as you need to."
"What is your primary objective?"" is your primary objective?"
Linden was silent, restrained in the dark depths of the moving CTU vehicle. The roles were reversed, now. This woman he had had at knifepoint not ten minutes ago was soaked in blood, and she looked chillingly pale, but now she was the one with a gun at his head.
"I'm going to ask you one more time." Michelle's voice had gone dangerously soft. "What is your primary objective?"
He simply glared at her. Michelle sighed as if disappointed, and then spoke again, this time in a disconcertingly cheerful tone. "I'm a woman. I don't have kids, but I still have those maternal instincts… so I don't especially like physical interrogation. But when I'm… upset, sometimes I do things I wouldn't ordinarily do. You've upset me today, Linden."
He stared at her, puzzled first, then bemused, and then… not, as she drew from her waistband a knife. His knife. It was still bloody.
"Are you ready to talk?" she asked, her voice returning to the low, unnervingly calm tone. When he remained silent, she let out a short, contemptuous breath. "Burns!" she barked, and as she reached for his fingers, another agent grabbed him, pulling him back.
As she forced the blade through his pinky, she asked again, this time her voice strained with effort of slicing through his finger. "What is your primary objective?"
"Stop!" he screamed, and then choked out "Fires! We were going to… start… fires."
Michelle withdrew the knife from his finger, barely hanging to his hand, and held it instead at Linden's throat. "You're lying to me. You only have ten fingers, so I'm not sure how many lies you can tell me before I have to get a little more… aggressive in my interrogation."
Linden was visibly shaking by then, his breath coming in short spurts, while Michelle's remained cool and collected. "Now. What… is your primary… objective?"
"P- parks."
Michelle slid the knife back to his hand, this time holding it poised above his second finger. "And?" When he hesitated, she, unruffled, pushed the tip of the knife in.
"Bombs! We're- we've planted bombs in them," he gasped, struggling.
Without changing her expression, Michelle probed further. "What kind of explosives?" At his response, Michelle, satisfied that his information lined up with the background she'd found the night before, turned away. He was telling the truth.
Michelle whipped out her phone.
"Almeida."
"Tony it's me. Parks. The targets are parks. I don't know yet how many or which ones; get Chloe working on high probability targets."
"On it."
"I'll get back to you." Michelle clicked her phone shut and returned to her interrogation.