A/N: Regarding the fluff, or lack thereof... it certainly wasn't my intent when I wrote the summary that said "action, character exploration, and fluff," I apparently meant "in that order." It'll get flufffier as the chapters progress but honestly, it's never going to get super-fluffy. Anyway, I am writing the conversation that follows-- here it is! Please review.

Tony secured both arms around Michelle's waist, holding her close to him. She leaned into him, letting the soft warmth of his body totally wrap around hers. It felt nice; it always did. For a woman who never felt totally safe—who was always looking over her shoulder—the feeling of utter security was something she wouldn't give up for the world. Michelle turned her head against his neck, letting her lips brush over his skin before she settled against Tony.

"I entered the basement- got the first guy against the wall and scared him into being quiet. I disarmed him, got him on the ground. Cuffed him. Kept my gun on him and started a tactically covert field interrogation. He didn't cooperate, so I… I knocked him out and secured him. Then I moved upstairs."

Michelle's voice was patient and collected; this part of the mission had obviously left her totally unfazed. The truth was that agents of their rank did that kind of thing so routinely that it was almost mindless, and Michelle was certainly no exception. If she still got upset over something that basic, she wouldn't be much of an agent.

"Okay," he whispered against her neck, reassuringly. "So then you started to go upstairs…"

"I got into the first upstairs room and that- that was when my comm went dead. I was scared, Tony. I was so scared." Her voice shook, and Tony instinctively pulled her tighter.

"I know you were, baby."

"I didn't—I didn't know if I was going to make it out alive… I mean, you never really know if you're going to make it out alive, but this time, it just—I knew there were three of them and only one of me, and I had no idea where the hell they were and I was so scared…"

"Shh… hey. Hey, sweetheart," Tony soothed, sliding an arm under her legs and cradling her against him like a baby. She shifted her body so that she was cuddled on top of him, her face buried in his shoulder and her body against his. As he rubbed her back, her breath calmed and grew regular. "I know it's scary, sweetheart. I know. I was so scared for you… it's always gonna be that way, Michelle. You never stop being scared when you're out there- you can't stop being scared out there."

"I know you can't," she sighed, pulling away, upright, "But you also… you can't let yourself beafraid. You have to—you have to keep making yourself believe there's a way out of it, or the fear's gonna win and you aren't gonna make it out."

"Exactly," he murmured, "So then…"

"He... he had his gun raised when I went in, but I took him down. And I had him on his knees, and that's when I saw the window."

"What window?"

"The open window. And I knew—I knew it couldn't stay open."

"Yeah."

"So I kept my gun on him when I went over to close it. And that was when the bullet came through the grate. And hit me in the arm and I dropped my gun. I dropped my gun! I can't believe I dropped my gun…"

"Sweetheart, you'd been shot."

"But I dropped my gun, and I let down my guard, and I got disoriented and in those couple of seconds, and that was when I got taken down. Someone had come in while I was distracted… damnit!" Michelle's voice was mounting with the tears swelling in her throat, as she grew more and more frustrated with herself. "If it hadn't been for that shot… that goddamned shot…"

As she grew nearer hysteria with every syllable, Tony shifted so that he was lying all the way down, on his side, and he drew Michelle with him. In response, she calmed and her breathing again began to regulate. While she tucked her body into his, he ran a hand through her hair and used the other to cup her face.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart, you had no way of knowing where anyone was, and you did exactly what you should have. You did good, sweetheart."

She shuddered as she let out a long breath, turning away fromhim. "I just… I'm… frustrated… if it hadn't been for that, it wouldn't have— none of the rest of… oh god, I don't even know what I'm driving at. I don't know. I just… I wish it hadn't happened."

"I know."

"I know." She nestled herself closer into his arms; she was cold. Noticing her shivering, Tony wrapped the blanket tighter around her.

"You cold?"

"No…"

"Sweetheart."

"I'm cold."

"Michelle…" Tony was touched beyond words at the look of utter vulnerability and trust on the face of this woman who spent— out of necessity— most of her life withholding both. That she not only trusted him with every ounce of her being, but that she actually let him see her come undone still floored him.

Michelle despised weakness, but in no one did she despise it more than in herself. It wasn't only that she knew she couldn't afford to be— and she couldn't— it was that she needed to know that she was strong. She needed to know that she was being an asset to herself and to society at large; she needed to know that to function.

And most of the time, that was all she needed. She could deal with the unbelievable stress from the constant crises of national security. She could hold herself together when her husband's life was at risk, and when her own life was at risk. She could hold herself together when her coworkers died; something that happened all together too often. All of this, she could deal with stoically— though that didn't mean she wanted to. That didn't mean it was healthy to. It just meant that she could do it when she had to.

But there were times when she didn't, when she could come home and collapse into Tony's arms. It could be after a particularly stressful day, or after someone died, or after Tony scared her to death out in the field, or after she got scared to death out in the field, or even just when she had one of her headaches that made a hard day almost unbearable. It could be anything, big or little, and she could let herself fall apart.

Around Tony, it felt okay. Around Tony, she felt safe to cry and admit that she was scared, or tired, or hurt. He understood, and he didn't think any less of her for it. In fact, he loved her even more. He always loved her more.

And so, with Tony's comforting, encouraging presence, Michelle had learned to admit that she wasn't always fine. While she was far from admitting it all or even most of the time, she had reached the point where she knew she could, and that when she truly needed to, she did.

Tony reappeared in the bedroom a few moments later with a down throw from the couch. He draped it over her, on top of the bed blanket, as he slid back in beside her, gathering her into his arms.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she smiled, always moved by Tony's sweet gestures.

"So…" Tony snuggled close against Michelle, "Tell me what happened after you got shot," he encouraged gently.

"I got knocked out. Someone… when I lost focus from the shot… someone came in and hit me on the back of the head. And I was out for awhile.' Michelle stopped for a moment, and Tony's hand crept up her back. He lightly traced a finger over the mark on her head under the mass of curls, and he kissed her neck.

Warmed by that simple act, Michelle continued, albeit hesitantly. "I woke up with one of the men on top of me."

Tony felt his heart beat faster and he his self-control was hard-pressed to restrain him from saying something that would make Michelle feel worse.

"He… Tony, he had his hands… one was on my pants and the other one was down my top… he was going to rape me. Tony. He was so close to raping me." Tears spilled out of her eyes and her voice choked, but she continued. "Oh god, Tony. I was so… so scared. But mostly, I was angry… he had no right to… oh my god, I was scared."

She pressed her face against his shoulder and let the tears flow freely, clinging tightly to him as if she were drowning and he was the last floating piece of driftwood. Accepting the signal that it was okay, even welcome, for him to be protective, Tony held his wife closer and kissed her.

"But you took him down, sweetheart. You know that, baby? You're better than he is. Stronger than he is. He couldn't even compete with you."

Michelle lifted her head and smiled a watery smile.

"Yeah…I think he... the only reason a serious terrorist would try to rape a federal agent is if he felt like he had something to prove. If he needed control. And I didn't let him have it."

"Exactly." Tony gave a half grin and wiped the tears from Michelle's face. "He didn't want you, he wanted the power and you didn't give it to him. You got control over him."

"Yeah."

"Tell me what happened after that."

"I got him off of me. He wasn't that strong and he didn't restrain me because he thought I was unconscious… so I got him off of me. But that was… I'd just gotten him off, and then Linden was in." Michelle stopped again and Tony braced himself for what would undoubtedly be the hardest part for him to hear.

"He was cutting me, stabbing me. Just gashing open the bullet wound, trying….to get me to talk. It hurt… so bad… it hurt…"

"I know, sweetie. I know what that's like. You're hurting so much and you feel like you'd do anything to make it stop but you don't, and you feel stupid and you hurt. But if you make it out of there and they don't get any information from you, then you still win. And you did what's right."

"Well, I know it's right, Tony. It just hurt like hell… it still hurts like hell… but I'll be okay. I'll be fine, okay?" She reassured herself more than him. "I'll be fine. So he had the knife at my face when I shouted for Jack."

"Jack?" Tony asked, confused.

"Jack. Because when they heard that, they all turned to look for him and that was when I got Linden off me. Knocked him out. Then… I— killed one of his men. You already knew that, but…. I hate that so much. I don't care how bad he is and if he was going to kill me, I just… I ended a life. I hate that, Tony."

"I know you do. We all do. You're not human if you don't. Keep on remembering that it's wrong, but know that it's right. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I mean, I certainly don't regret it or anything. I just… feel bad…."

"It's okay to."

"Yeah."

They stayed quiet and still for a few minutes, nestled in loving arms and a comfortable bed, but the minds of both were on the people that they'd killed. They lay there, silent, and remembered. It was Michelle who finally broke the silence.

"I had to torture Linden. I cut off his goddamn fingers…" she choked out, again beginning to cry for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

"And if you hadn't, we would have had a hell of a lot of body bags right now."

"Yeah. But I still… I hate… I hate doing that to another person. I feel like it's me there, in a way. Just… it… I don't know."

"I do," he sighed, "I know. You feel like you're worse than he is, and you want to hate yourself. But you can't do that, Michelle. You have to remember that it was his fingers or thousands of innocent lives."

"Yeah. I know. I know you know. I know you know I know you know…." And Michelle's tears changed to laughter as she realized just how ridiculous she sounded.

Tony laughed with her, and the tension and fear and guilt finally evaporated.

"You ready to go to sleep?" he murmured.

"Yeah…" she sighed, already reaching towards the darkness. "Tony…I love you…"

"I love you, too." He stroked her back and let his body relax as hers went limp with sleep.