Hi everyone,
this is a story I've started writing more than a decade ago, just after the end of season 7. Recently, I've watched 24 all over again and I got inspired to write more and publish it. It's a Tony-centric story, regarding mainly his interaction with Jack, in order to have some closure to their characters.
Hope you enjoy it!
P.s. English is not my native language, so if something doesn't sound right, let me know and I'll correct it.
Chapter 1
The room was dark, ominous, with no windows. The only beam of light came from a small grid over a metal door. It was a prison, but not a usual prison. A guard was standing by the door looking outside as if he was waiting for someone. On the other corner there was a chair where a prisoner was tied up with his hands behind his back. He looked tired and weak as if he hadn't slept or eaten for days. He didn't have any evident wound on his body a part from a bruise on his left cheek, but it was clear that he wasn't all right at all: he looked disoriented and, even if he didn't realize it, some of his muscles were shaking.
Tony Almeida couldn't explain to himself how the hell he got there. Until four days ago he had been in prison, a regular prison, with windows, beds and lunches, then something had happened. He had been told he would have been moved to another facility for further interrogation but then, instead of being escorted to the usual armor van, he had been woken up in the middle of the night and pushed on a chopper without a chance of having his questions answered. The last thing he remembered was the sting of a needle planted in his arm and then black until he had opened his eyes in this room.
"I must have been drugged, no other explanation", he thought. "Or maybe I'm not even here and this is just a bad dream."
No, even if the pain at his head was excruciating and his mind couldn't think clearly because of the lack of sleep and food, the dream option had to be excluded. If this was a dream, he should have been fallen asleep first and no way he would've felt so bad while sleeping. No, he was really there and his aching head and his sore throat were proof of it.
Yeah, the sore throat. If Tony had to choose what was the thing that was bothering him the most in that moment, it would definitely be his harsh throat. Even if they had kept him up for days without giving him anything to eat, they did actually give him a little water. It had been some time on one of the first days, but for Tony it felt like an age ago. His mouth and lips were so dry that it felt like they were on fire. He needed water. He desperately needed it.
"There's nothing you can do about it right now, focus on something else", he tried to order himself.
The first thought coming into his mind was made by a series of several different questions that he hasn't be able to answer so far.
"Why am I here, who the hell this people are and what the fuck do they want from me?"
Watching them closely for days, he had come up with the thought that they must had been in military, at least for a while. They seemed very well trained, especially in handling weapons and their way of talking was the typical military slang. On second thought, they must had not been in military for just a while, they did have to be some kind of agents or soldiers, otherwise how could they had taken him from a federal prison so easily? If it wasn't for his confused mind, Tony would have sworn he had even seen a familiar sign on the chopper that had flown him in that hell of a room.
"No, wait. I'm missing something. If they really were agents, they would never treat a prisoner this inhuman way. But so, who the hell are they?"
Tony felt like his head was ready to blow, he just couldn't think straight.
He stopped for a moment and tried to collect his thoughts. The sore throat was still there, harder than ever.
"Forget about this people and focus on the real problem: find a way to get the hell outta here."
Tony took a look at the room. There was no way out besides the heavy metal door, plus there was the guard. He had to take him out first. But he was tied up. And even more important, he was strengthless. At that moment he understood, they wanted to lead him to exhaustion to have him defenseless and then use him for whatever their aim was.
"Yeah, but what would that be?"
While thinking all of this, Tony's attention was suddenly caught by something else. The guard had sat on a table next to the door and had started drinking from a bottle he had in a bag. No, getting out of there wasn't the first priority. Priority one was surviving and surviving was water.
Without thinking twice, Tony tried to reach out to him and in a low voice he said:
"Hey."
The man ignored him. Tony tried a little louder.
"Hey, I'm talking to you."
The man turned around and glared at him.
"Please, give me some water", Tony continued. The man stood still, ignoring him again.
Tony then tried the sympathetic card:
"I haven't slept or eaten in days, all I ask you is just a little of your water…Please, I really need it."
The man kept on looking at him, now visibly uncomfortable.
"I've been ordered not to talk to you nor to give you anything", he said.
"Oh, come on", insisted Tony. "No one will ever know about this. It'll stay between you and me".
The guard lowered his eyes, clearly conflicted about it. On one side there was the pity for the prisoner, on the other the fear of his boss.
"I…I don't know, I…"
"Please, I'm begging you", interrupted Tony.
The guard stared at him for another second, then let pity had the best over fear and nodded at Tony. "Ok."
Tony's eyes flashed with hope as the man took the bottle and came closer to him.
In that moment the door of the room opened and another man got in. Seeing that his colleague was not sitting in his place next to the door, he asked surprised:
"What the hell are you doing?"
Caught off guard, the first man immediately came back to the table, ending Tony's hopes abruptly.
"I just…He asked me some water and I was gonna give it to him. He's gonna die if we go on this way."
"Oh, well…so…if the prisoner wants water", replied the other in a mocking tone, "water he'll have."
Both Tony and the first guard stared at him, not sure what he meant. Unfortunately for Tony, his plans became clear few seconds later while, with the bottle, he took also a towel from the bag.
"Take him to the ground", he said to the first man. Tony looked at them, now more concerned.
"But... "
"Do it!"
The first guard, hesitating, approached Tony's chair and pushed it to the ground. Tony accused the beat, trying to prepare himself to what he knew it would be the next part. A few moments later the second guard kneed close to Tony, keeping the towel with both hands right on his face.
Looking at the other man, he broodingly said "And now give him the water he wanted."
The man glared at him reluctantly for a while. This was really going over the edge. They were men of justice not brutal torturers, or at least not just-for-fun torturers.
"Come on!"
Suddenly another thought came to his mind. The prisoner lying defenseless on the ground was responsible for the death of over 20 FBI agents and for having tried to spread a pathogen in D.C. subway.
"Hell, you bastard, you've deserved it", he thought to himself as to find some sort of justification to follow the order the other guard was giving to him. Then, he took the bottle and started pouring it over the towel in front of Tony's face.
Water flew down fast. The towel blocked just enough of it to avoid suffocation, but not enough to consent the person behind it to breath. The feeling received is the same as drowning. Tony gasped for air as the water pouring from the bottle seemed to never end. Damn, if he wanted water so bad, but in his stomach, not his lungs.
Finally, the bottle was empty. The second guard removed the towel from his face and with the help of the other put the chair back on its legs. Tony breathed heavily and coughed repeatedly, trying to lower his heartbeat back to normal and, at the same time, to gain more drops as he could from his wet lips.
The second guard took his chin in his hand, forcing Tony to look at him.
"Next time think twice before bothering one of my men, understood?", he said with a grin on his face.
Tony stared at him angrily, still breathing hardly. Then, the man released his face and started walking to the door. Still out of breath, Tony raised his voice at him:
"What the hell do you want from me?"
The man stopped, turned around and with a smug look on his face he said:
"Justice."
Tony frowned. "Is this justice?", he asked.
"Was it what you did last year?", replied the other man with confidence.
Tony glared at him without saying anything.
"Exactly."
Then, the man turned around aiming at the door.
"Carl wants to see everybody now", he said to the other guard.
The other man nodded and then they both left the room, closing the heavy metal door behind their back. Tony watched the door closing as he kept trying to collect himself.
