A/N: Wow, thank you for all the reviews for Chapter 5! Sorry this chapter took a long time, too. It should have been sooner, but I had a really hard time with this. So please tell me what you think, good or bad. I value input.

Tony watched his wife sleep, her hair wild and haphazard and her face turned into him. Michelle's rhythmic breathing caused her body to lift and fall just the slightest bit, in a motion Tony found too perfect for words. As he sat, Michelle held close against him, Tony wracked his brain for an explanation for why he'd acted the way he did, and could come up with only one: love.

What other reason could there be for his irrational protectiveness over Michelle? He knew that she could take care of herself; knew that she was fantastically good at getting herself and the country out of any and all impossible situations. And yet—and yet, he continued to attempt, albeit largely unsuccessfully, to shelter her from danger.

Persistent in his mind and heart was the need to protect her, whether she needed the protection or not. Maybe she didn't. Maybe he should just let her go. But… But how could he do that? How could he leave his wife to the dangers of not only the world, but the constant perils of being a field agent for the Counter Terrorist Unit? The agency with the highest casualty rate of any agency in the United States government?

And then the answer came to him, again: love. This was what Michelle wanted. It was what Michelle needed, to be happy. She needed to know she was really, truly making a difference in the world. And she loved the adrenaline rushes… loved the thrill of the field as much as he did.

He did love it, he knew. The realization swept over him as he kicked off his clothes, stripping down to just his boxers. He'd never really thought about it before, never really looked that closely into himself. But it was true- he loved it in the field. Yes, he was mainly an office worker, and for the sake of the marriage, both he and Michelle needed the stability of that. But nonetheless, there was an adrenaline rush that made him feel alive. Danger… living in danger was… enjoyable. Enjoyable. He liked it.

Did that make him masochistic or- or something? No, he decided, it didn't. It was just that there had to be some people who would spend their lives fending off the shadows that threatened to overtake the casual, carefree inhabitants of the rest of the world. And he wanted to be one of those people; wanted to live his life on the edge of danger.

He lived in a world far removed from that of most people. And Michelle…Michelle was part of that separate world, the world that so few people understood. He would never want to have to put the wall of disconnection between himself and Michelle. All too often, he had seen that wall that undermine the trust and understanding that should have been able to build the inevitably failed relationships of so many of his coworkers.

But Michelle and Tony were the exception. They lived in the same world, immersed in it, almost to the point that they forgot what the civilian life was like. And that, Tony realized as he slipped under the covers beside Michelle, was why they were able to maintain their relationship: because they understood each other. Not only because they understood one another as people, but because they understood the experiences, so foreign to most people, that they went through as an ordinary part of work.

Coming within inches and seconds of being killed more times than they were strictly comfortable with was something to which they had become used. What happened during field work was intense- kidnappings, torturings, killings. What would be considered unbelievably traumatic for the average person, and situations that would make an LAPD officer quiver in his pretentious boots, were the kind of thing that Michelle and Tony, as CTU field agents, went through every few months.

What was more emotionally difficult than the personal dangers, however, were the moral gray areas of all the things that both of them had done and were bound to do again. He knew that Michelle's personal body count was pushing two digits, and that his own was even higher. Both of them had employed physical interrogation in time-sensitive situations- which was really just a pretty way of saying that they had tortured people.

To love and be loved by a person who had been through it all, who had done it all, and who had felt the same fear and guilt was invaluable to Michelle and Tony. Their relationship was a mutual support system. In addition to the more traditional love that they shared, they were brought together by the understanding of the difficulties that so often ruled their lives.

Working together as high-ranking federal agents had a lot of downsides, downsides they dealt with for the sake of a consuming love neither one of them would or could ever give up. But its advantage- the advantage of firsthand empathy- was unbelievably important. They both needed it to cope, and needed to be able to help the other cope.

For this, Tony lay in bed, cuddling Michelle's warm body against his own, waiting for her to wake. When she did, they would talk through the day. After every time one of them had been on a field mission- or, rarely, both at once- Michelle and Tony ended up snuggled together, in their warm, soft bed to go through what had happened to them and what they had done.

They'd been doing this as long as they'd been involved. Tony remembered clearly their first "emotional debrief," that had been after Michelle had gotten back from a mission, when they'd been together for about three months.

To begin with, Michelle had had a killer headache. It had made her irritable and snappish, as well as worn her out and leaving her feeling vulnerable, which she hated.

She'd returned to CTU from the field exhausted and spattered with the blood of one of the men she'd taken down. By the time her shift was finally over, she was an emotional and physical mess.

It didn't take Tony very long to convince Michelle to let him take her home. She was fatigued and miserable and the last thing she'd wanted was to be alone. The relationship hadn't gotten all that serious yet, but already she felt secure and comforted around Tony, and that was what she felt she needed right then.

She'd stumbled into her apartment, Tony close behind her. Tossing her keys and shoes somewhere, anywhere, she'd flung herself onto the couch and burst into tears: intense, hysterical tears.

As a rule, Michelle didn't like people to see her cry. On the rare occasions when the tears did flow, she would do everything she could to suppress them; to keep her composure.

But on that day, she had simply sobbed. Crying so hard she could barely breathe, Michelle had let Tony lift her up, let him carry her to bed, let him hold her and soothe her.

And when she'd finally cried all her tears, she had disappeared into the bathroom for almost an hour and emerged neatly groomed and entirely collected. And then she'd gotten into bed, and coaxed Tony in beside her.

"Tell me what happened," he'd said. And she had. She'd told him everything that had happened, told him that she'd been scared, told him how guilty she felt for the horrible things she had done.

And he'd understood. He'd done it all, too. They talked about it for hours that night- talked about the complicated forced out by field work. And then they had fallen asleep clinging close to one another. It was ironic, in retrospect, that in a relationship so driven by sexual attraction, the first night spent together was completely platonic.

During that night, spent snuggled together, the same sexual tension that had charged the air between them as long as they'd known each other was conspicuously absent. In its place was an overwhelmingly striking emotional connection.

Afterwards, they both knew they had something special. They slept together with increasing frequency in the months that followed, although—to no one's surprise more than their own— they wouldn't have sex until the night of their engagement over a year later.

That night was the turning point in their relationship, for it was then that, it became less about the physical attraction and mutual respect that had initiated things between them, and had become more about the deeper, weightier emotional bond.

W hen Michelle would, in later years, look back on that period of her life, she would view those late-night discussions full of empathy and love with a profound reverence. And she would remember the night that started the beautiful thing between herself and Tony with wistful nostalgia and a deep gratefulness for the happiness it would bring her.

Tony's feeling about the whole thing. He never analyzed situations that thoroughly. But Tony, as he held his hurting Michelle, could not help but look back on that night. And he found himself deeply immersed in the thought of just how much it meant.

Tony was jolted from his reverie when he felt Michelle shift in his arms. He could only hope she'd subdued her earlier anger- anger which, if he was being honest with himself- she was entirely justified in directing at him. He could only hope she wouldn't kick him out of the bed as soon as she woke up.

So was surprised when Michelle, as she woke, snuggled closer to him and, sounding a little frightened, whimpered, "Tony?"

"I'm here, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling a hand to the back of his head and stroking her curls.

"Tony, what-- what happened?"

"You passed out. Because you were so worked up at me because I was being a bastard to you."

Tony was shocked to see tears quivering in Michelle's eyes as she pulled away. "Tony-- I-- I can't-- I don't-- I…." she paused and tried to pull herself together. "I just- don't- don't want to be angry. I don't want to be angry at you. I'm-- I'm tired. I feel like absolute hell and I don't want…"

"Hey- hey. Hey, sweetheart. C'mere. It's okay, I'm not mad. I'm sorry, Michelle. I'm sorry. Michelle… hey, it's okay. You'll be okay." As the tears started to spill out of her eyes and flow down her cheeks, Tony drew her towards him. Tears stopping, Michelle went limp and submitted to the warmth of Tony's comforting arms.

"Tony," she whimpered again, pressing her face into his shoulder. She was disoriented, still. Trying to piece together all the angry words was difficult; she couldn't concentrate. Couldn't figure out just exactly what she'd been shouting at him about.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her and running his hand up and down her back.

"For- for what? What are you sorry for? What were we so mad about? I don't even remember. God… I hate this…I'm so… out of it… I just, I…"

"I was mad because you got hurt and you were mad because I was being overprotective, which I had no right to do. And because I was being condescending because I love you, which wasn't fair because I'm a bastard." He paused to think, then added, "You didn't need that."

Oh. Oh, right. The altercation came rushing back to her, and Michelle visibly winced as the memory flooded her mind. Damnit. She didn't want to have to deal with this, not when she felt as wretched as she did just then. Just get it over with.

"I did get hurt, though."

Tony was taken aback. In the first, it was unlike Michelle to admit that she was hurt, under any circumstances, ever. She hated that. But besides that, he wasn't expecting his fiery, stubborn Michelle to be so… yielding.

"Yeah." There was a silence then that was not uncomfortable but nor was it relaxed. They were both distractedly in thought, contemplating what to say next. Michelle spoke first.

"I guess you had a point about getting hurt in the field. And Tony, I want you to understand something. I love that you think you have to protect me. It's adorable." She paused and smiled the shy, faintly mischievous smile that made him putty in her hands. And then the flicker of the smile was gone and her voice was serious again. "But I need for you to know that I don't need you to. Can't you see that, Tony?"

He sighed and sat up. He wanted to think before he answered. Drawing the blanket up over him, he leaned against the headboard and pulled Michelle into his lap so that her head and neck were nestled against his chest and the rest of her body lay across him. She didn't protest; in fact, she snuggled into him as she waited for him to speak.

"I do see it. It would be impossible not to see it with you." Michelle half smiled, but she wasn't going to be coaxed into anything with compliments. "I have so much respect for what you do, Michelle. I can see exactly why you think I don't respect your work, but I do. You're one of the best agents CTU has ever had."

Michelle was going to cut in and tell him that he couldn't placate her with flattery, but she stopped herself when she realized that that wasn't what he was doing. He was explaining what he felt, and it wasn't contrived. It sounded as though it was, but it wasn't. She knew.

"But I want to protect you. I know you don't need it but I want to."

"I know that. I guess I did know that; I just--I was so frustrated with-- I just felt like-- like nothing I did was ever good enough for you to take me seriously."

"Sweetheart, of course I take you seriously. That's what I'm trying to say. I'm trying to tell you that I do take you seriously but I just… want you to be safe. When your comm went down and we didn't know if you were dead or alive…"

"Oh, Tony. I- I'm sorry. I- when I was in there, I-" Michelle's voice stopped. And she drew in her breath shakily.

"So… are we going to do this now?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. I don't want to talk about everything else right now. I'm just-- too tired-- I want totalk about what happened today first. It was bad this time, Tony."

"Yeah, I know."

"I know, it just-- I-- I mean it was worse than… a lot worse than it usually is," sighed Michelle as she drew herself up so that she was sitting up of her own accord but with her head still resting on Tony's chest.

"Okay. So you ready to tell me about it?" he asked tenderly, turning so he had an arm around Michelle's tense form.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, sweetheart."