A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! I really appreciate all the feedback I got last chapter and it definitely inspired me to write this one a.s.a.p. I'm hoping to have another one up sometime early next week since I start work for the summer and generally don't do too well with writing then…so I'll try my best! Hopefully you guys enjoy this one as well…thanks again : ).

Chapter Eleven - Torn

It wasn't like she'd had a choice in the matter. Technically, yes, only Chappelle or Tony could really order her to do anything and she could've said no. But had it really been a choice, she would've left in a heartbeat. Hell, she would've followed Tony to the airport and straight onto the plane. But this was Washington, DC and they, as much as anyone, had to be running flawlessly. And the thought of running home to LA and then hearing about some horrible disaster that was plaguing the city because their Counter Terrorist Unit was not what it should be…how could she live with herself? It wasn't a business; it wasn't about games or stock prices or market influence…leaving too soon meant people could get hurt and there was no way she could let that happen. It was her job to do everything she could to make sure that didn't happen.

Tony knew that, she knew he knew that but he always put them first, whereas she put everyone else. It was why they worked, really. Two people like her in a relationship would never last. She was the devoted professional and he was willing to put work on the backburner for the sake of them. It tore her up – feeling this compulsion to choose the job over her husband – but she couldn't help it.

He was furious. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd never seen him that mad in the entire time she'd known him. He yelled…at work; when he was frustrated or angry or whatever. She'd learned early on that it was rarely personal, (in fact she was pretty certain the only time it had been personal was the day she went behind his back to help Jack…but even that had stemmed from something unrelated to her). And even when she did get upset, it only made her more indignant. She had some quick retort on hand to remind him that she wasn't a pushover and she only did what she truly thought was the right thing to do.

But this time…to say it had rattled her would be an understatement. When he'd slammed her door shut she'd tried to move to the bed and realized she was shaking from his reaction. Part of it was due the exhaustion, part of it was because she felt guilty for a number of reasons, and part of it was because she wanted, more than anything, to admit he was right on some level and she couldn't do it anymore.

But she didn't.

He called her when he landed, but it couldn't have been more apparent that the call was placed purely out of obligation than of the actual desire to try and have a conversation. His voice was low and vehement and the underlying bitterness was obvious. It was basically nothing more than an, "I'm here, the plane didn't crash and I'm going home now. I'll call you when I've cooled off." though not in so many words.

She spent the entire evening kicking herself for waiting so long to tell him she was staying. That was a huge mistake. He hadn't had time to yell out everything he wanted to yell before he had to sit and stew on a plane – it wasn't giving him time to calm down, it was giving him time to get more riled up.

It had been selfish on her part. She knew, in good conscience, she should've told him on Friday…but she hadn't counted on him showing up like he did. The idea of ruining what would be the first and only weekend they would have together in a long time held her back. If she brought it up there would be no detachment, the weekend would be all about work and she didn't need that. She wanted to push the thoughts to the back of her mind so she could regenerate and prepare to do it all over again.

On another level, she just didn't know how to break it to him. She couldn't bring herself to say it – to see that look on his face, a muddled mixture of sheer anger, frustration and disappointment. Again, selfish. Now, not only had he left angry, but they wouldn't have a chance to make up in person for likely another four weeks.

She crumpled to the bed, her head in her hands, knowing how badly she'd screwed up.

He'd never been so angry with someone in his entire life. Sure, people had done worse things to him…but this was Michelle. Michelle who had literally given him about three minutes to process the fact that she had decided to extend her stay to double what it once was…who, after the anthrax-outbreak, (and even before if he was being honest), had been the only thing on his mind. As angry as he was, it hurt more than anything else that she would be gone for what seemed like forever. He'd missed her company since the first night practically, and had yet to accept the fact that when he stumbled in the door after an exceptionally long day at CTU she wouldn't be there…

He remembered the first time he'd found her in his apartment. She'd given him her key a little less than a week before and her justification at moving what seemed quickly had been that he was going away for a few days and she wanted him with her when he came back.

But the first time he'd found her in his apartment…that had been something else.

He'd come home a few minutes before midnight after being on an exceptionally long Conference call with Hammond and having ordered her back to his place to wait for him, (that being when he gave her the key).

"Tony it's okay…I'll just see you in the morning…" she attempted to rationalize and he'd scoffed it off. It was harder for him than it was for her, rightfully. It was like giving her full reign over every aspect of his life, and he was still learning to trust her slowly.

"After a couple of hours talking to Hammond all I want is you with me all…" he slipped his hand around her waist. "…night…" he pressed her lightly against the wall, his arm resting a few inches from her head. "…long…" she gasped slightly and he nuzzled his lips against hers briefly before releasing her.

After that she'd practically ripped the key from his hand and nodded her agreement eagerly. He'd laughed softly and she'd blushed ever-so slightly at the way he was looking at her.

So when he came home and she was there he, for the first time, got to see what it might be like to be married to her. That was why he loved the memory so much. It was the first time it occurred to him how the best thing in his life would be to have her there all the time.

She was standing in the kitchen by the kettle, a mug resting beside it with the string of a teabag hanging out. The first three buttons of her blouse had been undone; her heels, purse and jacket were scattered somewhere in the hall; her hair was still pulled back but there were a lot more loose pieces than there had been first thing in the morning; and she was leaning back against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the water to boil.

He wanted to maul her…seriously, and despite his exhaustion, his heart started to pound. And the thing was, it wasn't only that he wanted to throw her against the wall and tear away her clothes because she looked so attractive to him in that moment…he liked knowing that she was there. That he could turn around and disappear and she would still be there when he came back. It was picture perfect. Her, standing in his apartment, completely and totally relaxed, and looking as though she just belonged there…and that she wanted to stay there forever…

He'd approached quietly, her having obviously not heard the door open over the noise of the kettle, and slipped an arm around her waist as he placed a kiss against the side of her neck.

"Hey…" he smirked as she jumped a little at first and then melted against him.

"You scared me." She chastised him and he kissed her again.

"Sorry." He moved past her to pour her tea, while one hand remained firmly on her hip.

"I'm glad you're here." He told her, surrounding her with both arms and pressing his lips against her hair.

She sighed happily as she added sugar and he swayed them both softly back and forth.

"Me too."

After a few minutes of standing there, her head tilted back against his shoulder, she finally spoke:

"Tony…"

"Mhm…" his response was groggy, as if he'd fallen asleep on her.

"I need milk…"

"Huh?"

"For my tea…" she laughed softly. "I need milk for my tea."

"Right…" he released her and went to retrieve the milk.

She was grinning, slightly lopsidedly, when he turned to face her again. As he handed her the carton she'd placed it on the counter, placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him warmly. It made his stomach churn and he smiled to himself when she pulled away…knowing that he'd have been crazy to hold off on giving her a key for much longer. Namely, if it meant infinite evenings like this. The way she looked at him in that moment made him feel like he'd done something heroic…when all he did was find a way to keep her closer to him for longer.

And now she had been gone for four weeks. Four damn weeks of coming home to an empty house; four weeks of worrying, four weeks of anticipating the next time she'd call – hopefully to announce her return flight had been booked. Four weeks and he now had to do it all over again because someone else needed her.

It wasn't fair, he needed her too.

But the thing was, while he could be angry at her for not telling him she was staying, he couldn't be angry at her for wanting to stay. That was Michelle. That was what Michelle did. She was there when someone needed her, and she wouldn't quit until the job was good and done. He wished she could learn to be selfish like that…he wished he could teach her. But he couldn't be mad at her for it. How could he, when the fact that she did things like this was (despite how frustrated he got as a result) one of the reasons he loved her so much?

He called her mid-morning on the Thursday following his departure. She hadn't spoken to him since Sunday night and he, despite his stubbornness, knew he didn't want to go another day without at least talking to her.

"Dessler." She still sounded exhausted and his heart ached a little in contrast to his mind telling him he still had every right to be pissed off.

"Hey." His tone was dull and flat. Not warm or even remotely animated.

"Hey…" she sounded hopeful.

"You busy?" he reeled out disinterestedly.

"Uh no…just uh…" she started clicking away furiously at her computer. "Just give me a second."

Two minutes later she was standing at the entrance to the office, grateful that there wasn't anything pressing that required her attention. The fact that he had called was something, and she wanted to talk to him now.

"Alright, sorry…I can talk now."

"How are you?" his voice was still emotionless.

"Fine…" she gulped hard. "How are you?"

"Okay…" he trailed off, as though he was thinking of what to say next.

"Honey, I'm so sorry…" her voice broke slightly and he felt as though the wind got knocked out of him, though he fought to maintain the cold shoulder he fully intended to exhibit. The fact he'd called at all meant he had caved slightly and she wasn't getting anymore than that right now.

"I should've told you sooner."

"Yeah." He finished dryly. "You should've."

"I'm sorry." She repeated, her voice more steady now. "I wasn't thinking."

"No…You weren't."

"And I wouldn't blame you if you were still mad at me."

"Good to know."

She sighed; getting him to come around now wasn't going to be easy.

"But…they need me here. And if something were to happen because I left them hanging in the middle of reconstruction I…"

His voice softened, almost unnoticeably. It would've been unnoticeable to anyone but her.

"I know."

"And I…" she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "I love you."

"Yeah…" he sighed a little. "I know that too."

She didn't know what to say after that and he filled the void with a semi-reluctant.

"I guess I'll let ya get back to work. I'm sure you're swamped."

She hung her head, pressing her fingers against her brow.

"Alright."

"I'll uh…talk to you later maybe."

" 'Kay."

And that was how they conversed for the next week and a half. Occasionally she would ask about work and he would fill her in on the details. More than once Ryan called to see how things were progressing and thank her for putting in the extra time – District and Division alike were impressed at her dedication. I don't care. She wanted to tell him. I want to go home where I actually get credit for what I'm doing, not where someone else gets to pass off my work as their own. Tony would never do that, obviously. George Mason had never done that to her, and Ryan, though always trying to remain in a good place with the most senior people, still gave credit where credit was due.

Kelly, however, always seemed to be getting the praise for the adjustments made to the infrastructure, and the personnel, as well as their handling of the active protocols. Michelle wasn't sure, but it seemed as though he was always in his office filing papers and she was always the one on the floor. Tony, during an active operation, would never leave the floor. He was always less than a few feet away in case split-second decisions had to be made. Kelly put the burden on Michelle and took credit for her quick thinking when his superiors called to congratulate him. Her name was rarely mentioned. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that it was no longer about what was best for her career, but about what was best for the city. She could live with that.

Part way into her seventh week at CTU, an active lead came in. Apparently one of the suspects involved in the anthrax attacks that had eluded capture had been spotted. She told Kelly right away and he called a meeting, asking her what she thought the best course of action was and then designating tasks based on her suggestions. Michelle fought back an eye roll.

"Alright people, I want the tactical teams to prepare for an assault. Set up a 1-mile perimeter and cover all entrances and exits to the street."

"Let me know when we have him, I'm going to get on the phone with Langley." Kelly told her on his way off the floor, retreating to his office again.

She scowled, but focused on the task at hand.

"Team A, what's your position?"

"We're outside the house, Michelle. So far no activity and no lights are on. How do you want us to proceed?"

"Prepare for the takedown, but I want that perimeter air-tight before you move in."

"Yes ma'am."

Fifteen minutes later the suspect was in custody.

"Bring him back to CTU for interrogation." Michelle ordered.

"There was a problem." The young agent began, obviously shaken. "His son came in at the last minute. He was caught in the crossfire."

"How the hell did that happen?" she shouted angrily. "Who let him go inside…?"

"Agent Samson thought he might have been involved and wanted to bring him in for questioning as well."

"Who authorized that?"

"Mr. Kelly."

Michelle slammed her hand against the table angrily.

"Bring the suspect in for questioning now." She ordered before storming towards Kelly's office.

"You authorized Lou to takedown the suspect's son!" she blasted, the color rising in her cheeks.

"We think he was involved, Michelle. Lower your voice."

"The son is dead!" she ignored him; forgetting the last time she'd lost her control as she was now. "He had no terrorist involvement. Our field teams just killed an innocent American."

"The father is foreign."

"And if you'd checked the profile, you'd have realized the kid was born in New England to an American mother. How do you want to explain that to DOD?"

"Let me worry about that." He stated calmly. "You just worry about what you're responsible for."

"Funny…" she retorted. "That's what I thought I was doing."

He started to answer but she was already gone.

At midnight, after the suspect had been interrogated and put on a transport to Guantanamo, Ryan called her as she was finishing up the situation report.

"Michelle, I was just informed that an operation you were in charge of resulted in an innocent American casualty."

"What?" she couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe it was happening. "What do you mean?"

"David Kelly contacted District; apparently you authorized the takedown of a suspect and his son – despite the fact that the son had no criminal record and nothing suggesting he might be involved in -"

"Kelly authorized the takedown!" she blurted out, forgetting her composure yet again. "I didn't even know about it until the son was already dead."

Ryan sighed. "I've convinced Vaughan to keep this quiet, but he insists that you're removed from your position immediately."

"You can't - "

"There's nothing I can do, Michelle. It's your word against Kelly's and he's your superior and has a much longer, more distinguished record."

"He's completely -"

"Michelle…" Ryan cut her off. "I'm aware of these issues regarding him, as is District, but Kelly has friends in high places and there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry. Come back to LA and you can resume your duties at CTU next week."

She hung her head, knowing she was defeated.

"Fine, Ryan."

"I'm fighting my hardest to have the incident expunged from your permanent record…but that will be something to deal with over the coming weeks."

She sighed heavily.
"Alright."

"I'll see you on Monday."

"You can come by tomorrow and clean out your station." Kelly told her, appearing almost instantly after she hung up the phone.

Michelle glared. "You're a son of a bitch…after everything…I took the fall for your idiotic mistake."

"It's a dog eat dog world, Michelle." He told her patiently, the malice underlying his tones apparent to her. "You can't be married to all of us."

Her eyes flashed and her heart pounded.

"I'll be out by tonight." She told him coldly.

He nodded and was gone.

It was almost 2am when she finally stepped outside of CTU, her cheeks were flushed and she was grateful for the crisp breeze that helped soothe her slightly. As she moved through the parking garage her coat pocket started jingling.

"Dessler."

"It's me." Tony didn't sound bitter any more. "Chappelle called."

"He did?" she asked with surprise.

"Yeah he uh…thought I should hear what happened before Kelly's version got out there." He clawed at his brow anxiously. He definitely sounded at lot more like the Tony she was used to at home. The sarcasm was gone and the tenderness had returned.

"How ya doin'?"

She shrugged. "Been better…Kelly disabled my user ID before he left tonight…I guess they're not wasting any time." His chest constricted when he heard the defeat in he voice.

She had just finished loading her things into the car when one of the security guards appeared.

"Ms. Dessler." The guard approached and she tilted the phone away from her mouth.

"Mr. Kelly just called a minute ago. Since you won't be returning he needs you to leave the vehicle here."

She swore quietly.

"What happened?" Tony asked.

"Kelly wants me to hand over the car. It's two-o-clock in the goddamn morning…"

"I called you a cab." The guard looked apologetic. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I can help you move your things."

She smiled a little for the first time all day.

"Thanks, I'm fine."

He nodded slightly. "I'll come find you when it's arrived."

"Thank you."

"I want to come home." She felt the lump rise in her throat.

"I know…"

"I've hated it here from day one and I was busting my ass for this stupid office and in the end, what'd it get me…"

"You did it for the right reasons, Michelle. You couldn't have known this would happen."

"Yeah…listen I'm gonna grab my stuff so I'm ready when the cab comes. I'll let you know what flight I get."

"Alright."

The call ended and Michelle wiped her eyes. After this disaster she couldn't get home fast enough.

Much to Michelle's dismay, there were no flights available for her until late the Friday evening. Already overworked and so tired she could keel over, she opted to wait until early Saturday afternoon – giving her an entire day to sleep and pack and ensuring she wouldn't be trying to organize a pickup in the middle of the night. When she'd told Tony her flight time, he'd waved away her assurances that she could grab a cab home like she was utterly insane. That more than anything relaxed her. She ended up sleeping well past noon on Friday and spent the rest of the day packing before calling it an early night, ordering a pizza and falling asleep to a movie.

She was being taken the airport when it hit her like a ton of bricks that the last time she had been in DC was when her dad had been in the hospital. For some reason, with everything that had been happening the notion had escaped her. Perhaps, after that, she just wasn't meant to be in Washington anymore. She almost laughed at how irrational that sounded. Her home was where Tony was – obviously.

Someone knocked on Tony's office on Saturday afternoon, a day and a half after the whole disaster. The door swung open mid-knock, the person on the other end clearly not waiting for his acknowledgement and only knocking in the first place out of formality. He was hunched over his desk, going over the status report for the day.

"What is it Chloe?" he contained a groan.

"I need you to sign off on the security updates…" she sighed, as though irritated at the prospect at needing anyone's approval for anything.

He reached for the document and scribbled quickly without lifting his head.

"And I'm going to need you to clear the new pass codes once I'm done…since Michelle's still not back."

"I'm leaving at 4:30…" he cut her off. "Gael can do it for you."

"Gael doesn't have the security clear -"

"It was bumped up by Division provisionally for stuff like that. He'll finish it off when you're done."

"Fine…" she stalked off, as though being incredibly inconvenienced by him ducking out a little early. But Michelle's plane was landing just after 5 and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be there to pick her up… The tensions of the past few weeks aside, she'd been gone for almost two months and he missed her like crazy.

Michelle felt like she was just waiting for her legs to give out from underneath as she moved through the airport terminal. The flight delay had been the final straw. After being away for almost two months she just wanted to be home in her own bed. When the captain had informed the passengers that, because of traffic, they would be in a holding pattern until it was their turn to land she had almost burst into tears. She didn't want to be patient any longer.

Tony looked so serious when she finally saw him standing there she had to smile. It felt like she hadn't smiled in forever.

"Hey," she approached him slowly, her tiredness obvious through her stride.

"Hey," he continued to watch her carefully, eyes narrowed. "How was your flight?"

Michelle shrugged. "Fine."

And then after a few seconds of taking in each other's presence she blurted out:

"I wouldn't blame you if you were still mad…"

"I'm not mad." He cut her off. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry…" her eyes stung slightly and her voice faltered. "I didn't mean to…"

His watched her intently at first, and was wrapping his arms around her before she was finished speaking. The words trailed off and got buried in his chest.

"Let's go home, hmm?" He told the top of her head. His hands stroked her back gently. She mumbled her agreement into his shirt.

She was about to tell him exactly how much she'd missed him, but decided against it. It wasn't like he didn't know anyway. The actual verbalization of it would just be an unnecessary formality. She'd much rather explain it to him without words; by kissing his face tenderly when he pulled her towards the glass doors and spending an extra second warming his neck with her breath. His hand trailed unobtrusively around her waist and underneath the back of her jacket just to feel that little bit closer to her as they walked back to the car.

When they stepped into the house, she started to announce her plans to go change when he held her back

"Not yet…" he pulled her towards him and closed his arms around her. She relaxed almost instantly and her hands circled her back as her chin came to rest on his shoulder. She never asked what he was doing and he was grateful…Instead, she exhaled deeply and absorbed as much as she could from the embrace. It felt good.

"I got an idea." He muttered, the words falling into her hair, the slightest hint of suggestiveness in his voice.

"Mhm…" she tilted her head so her lips pressed against his skin and made him shiver slightly.

"I think you and I…" his breath tickled her ear and she sighed softly. "Should head upstairs…" he nibbled against her neck. "And get you out of those clothes…" one hand slid beneath her shirt. "And into a shower…" he kissed the corner of her mouth teasingly, and despite the gentleness she felt herself getting excited.

"Maybe a bath?" she suggested innocently and he smirked and sealed his lips around hers. His hand cupped her face, while the other tightened around her waist. His tongue parted her lips slightly as she brought both hands to his face, deepening the kiss.

"C'mon…" he broke away slightly breathless and grabbed her hand tugging her towards the stairs.

"I'll run the bath…" he told her once they'd stepped inside the bedroom. "And you can just uh…" he cocked his head to one side and smirked again. "You can just get rid of these clothes."

By the time she sunk beneath the blissfully hot, bubble-filled water she felt like she'd died and gone to heaven. When he pulled her in close, his hands all over her slick skin as she rested against his chest, she was certain of it.

She uttered something that sounded vaguely distasteful and was most certainly work related – so he kissed her cheek, willing the tension to abscond from her muscles as his fingers gently manipulated them. She sighed happily and said nothing else as he mumbled sweet nothings with his lips buried against her neck.

"You know I love you, Michelle." He told her quietly.

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she recalled the how it became a question in her mind after her stormed out of the room…even if it had resolved itself an instant later.

He craned his neck around and looked at her skeptically for a few seconds before pressing their lips together. She responded eagerly.

"Don't ever forget it." He warned, a hint of teasing in his voice as he kissed her again.

This got a small laugh. As if she could…