A/N: I have finally written another chapter! Sorry about the crazily long wait on this ...I've had this insane deadline that has left little time to write... anyway, here it is! Please tell me what you think.

Chapter Five: Absence

"I want to reinstate Jack Bauer as head of field ops," Michelle told Brad Hammond across the table in the situation room.

"Michelle, he's a junkie."

"He's completed a program! He's completely clean and stable. We both know he's the best. I run CTU, and I want Jack."

"We brought Curtis Manning all the way from Boston to take over field ops."

"Curtis is inexperienced. He's been fine so far, but we also haven't had a sensitive situation so far. Curtis is good at what he does, and that's fine. But strike teams are available anywhere, and we need someone with Jack's finesse."

"We need someone who's not unpredictable and erratic. Jack Bauer is not returning to CTU. End of discussion."

The next day, Brad Hammond got a call from President Palmer's office. He hung up the phone with a sigh before dialing the next number.

"CTU, this is Dessler."

"You can have Bauer."

It was a relief to have Jack back. Heading CTU by herself had been taking its toll on Michelle. Though her single-minded focus and long hours, Michelle had been doing a good, efficient job, but the stress had been damn near overwhelming. Getting Jack back as Head of Field Ops eased Michelle's peace of mind considerably. He had the experience and expertise to undertake decision-making that had fallen entirely to Michelle for the past weeks.

Jack's first day back was also the first time Michelle had seen him face-to-face since the day following the Cordilla virus when he'd come to check on her. As he walked through the doors, Michelle could feel some of the weight of responsibility lift from her shoulders.

She greeted him with a smile, which, these days, was a rarity from her. "Welcome back, Jack," she said warmly.

"It's good to see you, Michelle." He returned her smile with one of his own, equally rare. "Thank you for getting me back here."

"It was the least I could do after what you did that day."

"Yeah, well, thank you anyway." By that time, they had reached Michelle's office so that Jack could be briefed. He closed the door behind himself and looked at Michelle, veiled concern in his eyes. "How's Tony?"

Biting her lip, Michelle sighed. She swallowed and glanced away before answering, "Jack… it's… I've never seen him so… so defeated. So hopeless. And it just…" Michelle trailed off.

Jack sighed a little, both in sympathy and apology. "I'm sorry it had to go down like this. I haven't been able to reach Palmer yet… as soon as I can, though, I give you my world I will do everything in my power to help Tony."

Michelle gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Jack. And for now… things could be worse. Federal prison isn't exactly a walk in the park for an agent…" a bitter laugh escaped Michelle's throat. "But he's still doing okay. When I visited him… for part of the time, he was happy. It'll be okay, I guess…" Michelle drifted into thought for a moment before returning to the present and focusing. "All right, let's start with the most recent protocols."

A few days later, Michelle managed to escape CTU before the hour was too late in order to get to the prison for her second visit with Tony. Waiting for access, she twirled a piece of hair around her finger in anticipation. She'd been looking forward to this for two weeks, but now that it was time she was scared.

She was scared of how another two weeks had affected Tony. Scared to see what new physical injuries he'd be sporting, and scared of what his emotional state would be like. If he'd already looked so hopeless the last time she'd come, how would he be now? Would he…

Her thoughts were interrupted when a guard called, "Agent Dessler?"

"Yes?"

"You can head in."

"Thank you."

A few moments later, Michelle could see Tony through the glass, leaning to one side of his chair with a look of defeat that tore at her heart. The bruise on his neck had faded, but she could see a new one along the left side of his jaw. Forcing her eyes from the bruises, she met his gaze. "Tony."

"Hey."

"I miss you," she said wistfully.

"I miss you, too. I miss you so much." The ache in Tony's voice made Michelle want to cry. It wasn't fair that this was happening to him. It wasn't, but… but then, suddenly, she just couldn't take it any more.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked, though he knew perfectly well what she was asking.

"Let Saunders escape."

He looked up at her, pain and anguish written across his face. "Sweetheart, I couldn't loose you."

"Tony, there were millions of lives on the line! I know you love me but damnit, what about the rest of the world?"

"You think I don't know that, Michelle? You think I don't realize how many people could have died? Goddamnit, Michelle! I know that! I know what I did, you hear me? I know!"

"Then why didn't you just let me die?" she choked out.

"I couldn't. I came too close to loosing you to let that happen."

"Tony, I was willing to die for the mission; you knew that."

"I was willing to die, too, Michelle. But I couldn't let you die; you understand? It'd have been easy enough to sacrifice myself, but how could I have sacrificed you?"

"It was the wrong thing to do."

"I know." He looked down and was silent for a moment. "But I'd do it again."

Jack entered Michelle's office apprehensively, a file in his hand. Glancing up, Michelle asked, "What is it?"

"I'm going to need you for the covert op to apprehend Sara and Jacob Wilson."

"What?"

"I need you for this op."

"Why? You have an entire department at your disposal, Jack!"

"You're the most experienced and highest-ranking female agent."

"Why do you need…" Michelle trailed off as the only obvious explanation hit her.

Needlessly, Jack explained, "We need to look like a couple."

Nodding her understanding, Michelle readily agreed. "All right. How's the op going to proceed?"

"You know Chloe's been working up all the data your people have been collecting on them, looking for the most vulnerable point?" Michelle nodded again, and he continued. "Well, she found it. They booked a dinner reservation for this Friday where they can't be guarded well, if at all. The restaurant, though… it caters nearly exclusively to couples. I need you with me to blend in."

"Okay. I'm fine with that. But I was looking at the report on that reservation earlier, and it looks like it's really just a romantic dinner. A break from the stress of trying to blow up the West Coast." Michelle rolled her eyes. "So I don't think we're likely to hear anything relevant."

"No, I know. At this point, I just want them in custody. It's been long enough after we stopped their last operation to know that they didn't have a back-up planned, and not long enough for a new operation to be set into motion without them."

"All right, that's your call. We'll go ahead with it. I'll call Division and get them to send someone to take over while we're both gone."

"Good. This file has everything relevant Chloe and I have worked on." Jack set the folder down onto Michelle's desk. "Call me when you've reviewed it and we can start going over logistics."

Sitting in the situation room with Jack, Michelle rose as the door opened and a practical-looking middle aged woman entered. "Erin Driscoll?"

"Yes. Michelle Dessler and Jack Bauer, I take it?"

Shaking Driscoll's hand firmly, Michelle nodded. "That's correct."

Jack did the same, and they all stood silently for a moment before he began. "You've already been brought up to speed on current protocols?"

"I have."

"Good. Then there's not much for you to worry about. Chloe O'Brian is going to be running our operation, so everything should be running fairly smoothly. We need you to head things up and ensure that everything goes the way it should."

"Should I coordinate directly with O'Brian, then?"

Michelle nodded. "Yes. She's got the schematics and she'll be monitoring sat and infrared; she's going to be the one directing us while we're in the field." Lowering her voice a little, Michelle added, "You should know, though, that Chloe can be… prickly." Michelle paused a moment before adding, "But she's the best."

"And I trust her," Jack put in.

Not even attempting to mask the dubious note in her voice, Driscoll told them, "Well, it's your call."

"Yes it is," said Michelle shortly.

"Well, then, let's get to work."

As they neared the restaurant, Michelle sighed, fingering the strap on her handbag. Its contents were… out of the ordinary. A pistol, a tazer, two sets of handcuffs. Whatever happened to lipstick and tampons?

She felt ridiculous. The laughably impractical black cocktail dress combined with what Michelle had mentally dubbed her Purse of Crime and Punishment made her feel like a parody of a bad movie. Silly was the only word to describe it—

"You ready?" Jack asked, interrupting her thoughts. Biting her lip, Michelle nodded.

"Curtis, hold your position," Jack ordered to the other agent, who had a strike team at the ready half a block away.

"Copy that."

"All right. Let's go, Michelle." After feeling at her earpiece one last time, Michelle got out of the car with Jack. He took her arm, and they started toward the entrance.

As Michelle and Jack entered the restaurant, both became instantly alert, scanning the restaurant for the faces of the terrorist ringleaders. "How may I help you?" the hostess asked pleasantly.

"We have a reservation for Daniels," Jack told her.

Checking her notebook, the hostess nodded. "Follow me." She led them to a table along a left-hand wall and handed them menus before bustling back to the entrance.

Picking them up, Michelle and Jack let their eyes drop down to the menus as they searched, through lowered eyelids, for their targets. It was Michelle who suddenly leaned forward toward Jack, speaking softly with a sultry look for the benefit of anyone who happened to be watching.

"I have a visual on the subjects," she said in a low voice, "In the back corner to your right."

"She's going to the bathroom," Jack said evenly and barely audibly, "Get her."

"What about him?" she asked, her own tone just as low.

"I'm gonna take care of it. I'll contact you via comm."

Out loud, Michelle announced, "I'm going to the ladies' room."

Jack nodded. Standing, Michelle dropped her napkin into her chair and started for the bathroom. She saw a redheaded woman, four tables away from that of their subjects, rise and also head toward the bathroom. Speaking softly and discreetly into her comm., Michelle murmured, "Jack I think I have a guard. Red-head in a green dress at your three o'clock."

Michelle could hear Jack's voice in her ear, telling her, "Let the guard get there first; you head in after her."

"Copy." Looking a little lost, Michelle headed in the wrong direction.

After a few moments she found a staff member. "Excuse me? Can you tell me where the restrooms are?"

"Straight ahead and to your right," the harried waitress said distractedly before dashing off.

Michelle reached the door just after the redhead. Entering, she paused. There were three stalls, only one of which was occupied, but the other woman was simply leaning against the wall.

Feigning confusion, Michelle asked, "Is there a line?"

The woman started. "Oh! No. No, I'm just waiting for my friend." She gave a visibly forced smile.

"Oh. Well, I just need to touch up my lipstick first, anyway" she explained conversationally as she reached into her purse. Her hand emerged holding a tazer, and it had almost made contact with the other woman when she slid a blade out of the sleeve of her bolero jacket, going for Michelle. With her free hand, Michelle managed to catch the woman's wrist, but not before the knife sliced into her bare forearm. Gasping at the sudden pain, Michelle was still flinching as her tazer met the guard's flesh and her limp body sank to the floor.

All of this had taken place within a matter of seconds. Michelle had already turned the deadbolt on the bathroom door and was reaching for her gun when the stall door burst open. Sara Wilson, alerted by the sounds of the struggle, was fumbling in her purse for her own gun.

For a fleeting moment, Michelle saw the humor in the situation. Earlier, she'd felt like she was stepping into a bad movie; now she knew for certain she must be. But the moment passed as the reality of the situation took over, and she leveled her gun at Sara, who still groping in her purse, calmly ordering, "Sara, hands on your head."

Caught by surprise by the use of her name, Sara froze. "Take your hand out of the purse, and drop it on the floor. I'm a federal agent and I will not hesitate to shoot you if you lift your weapon. Hands on your, head, Sara."

Slowly, and with a defiant glare, she complied. "Now cuff yourself." Sara's trembling, manicured hand betrayed her trepidation as she accepted the handcuffs from Michelle, and snapped them shut. "On your knees." Sara lowered herself to the ground, never breaking eye contact with Michelle and never flinching at the gun pointed at her.

Keeping her eyes fixed on her subject, Michelle said into her comm. unit: "Sara Wilson is in custody and her guard is down."

Jack's voice was low and level as he said, "I identify two guards on Wilson. One is at the same table as Sara's. I need you to restrain him before I go after the other two."

Driscoll came over comm. saying, "Shouldn't you have Curtis and the strike team deal with that?" Back at CTU, Chloe glared at her. "A strike team would kind of, you know, alert the hostiles to the situation. Not the best idea, don't you think?" Chloe rolled her eyes. "Michelle, don't come out yet. There's someone in the hallway."

"Copy." Waiting for Chloe to clear her to exit, Michelle came nearer to Sara. She quietly knocked Sara out with the tazer before returning it to her purse. Then she went to the sink and ran the faucet, rinsing off the blood on her arm and hand. Biting her lip, Michelle reached for towels to wrap around her arm and slow the blood flow before taking the guard's jacket and pulling it on. Michelle was just glancing in the mirror, grateful that her black dress didn't show the blood, when Chloe cleared her to leave. With a deep breath, she slipped out, leaving the unconscious women behind her.

Jack was sipping his water glass, Jacob Wilson was waiting impatiently for his wife's return, and a man sat sullenly at the table from which Sara's guard had come. Michelle wandered toward her table taking a roundabout route so she would pass the guard.

As she approached the table, Michelle glanced across the room and briefly made eye contact with Jack. He nodded slightly and, assured, Michelle turned her attention to the guard she was fast nearing. Smoothly, she slipped her gun out and pressed it into the small of his back. He stiffened and was about to whip around when they were both startled by a loud crash across the room.

Jack had Wilson on the floor and his gun on the second guard, shouting, "Don't Move!" Screams began to be heard throughout the restaurant, and chaos mounted as frightened couples fled the area.

Keeping her own gun pressed firmly into the man's back, Michelle barked, "Curtis, move in! We are no longer covert! Move in!"

Not a moment after she'd given the order, Michelle heard Jack shouting her name, and she saw their one unsecured subject running toward an exit. The room was just about empty of civilians by then and, taking aim, she fired her gun. She felt an odd sinking sensation as she saw the runner fall, clutching at his side.

He was down. But as she turned back to the first guard she'd been watching, she saw him starting to slip out of her sight. Jack was occupied with a struggling Wilson, and the runner already had a healthy head start on her. Instead of attempting what would be a doubtlessly futile pursuit, Michelle spoke into her comm. "Curtis, we have a runner from the left rear exit! Chloe, reposition satellite!"

That done, Michelle tentatively approached the downed hostile. The shot had been intentionally nonfatal, but she nonetheless felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she saw his bloodied shirt. Repressing the feeling, she cuffed him and informed him, without emotion, "We'll have a medic in here in a minute." His eyes, hazy with pain, looked up at her and Michelle felt a sharp tug at her heart.

"What do you mean he escaped?" Jack asked angrily.

Curtis shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jack. He slipped through the perimeter."

"Sonofabitch," Jack muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was then that Michelle finally came over. "The women are in custody with Wilson and the other guard," she informed them.

"Good," Jack said, glancing up. His eyes landed on her arm, and he turned his attention toward her. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she sighed. "Not a big deal." She paused a beat before adding, "So he's gone?" Jack nodded, and Michelle put her hand to her eyes. "Well, I've got Chloe tracking satellite. She might be able to pick up a trail."

"She might."

"He switched cars! In a goddamn tunnel!" Chloe griped, "Why does Hollywood have to make so many action movies? It's a bad idea; it just gives the real bad guys inspiration!"

Michelle sighed, again. Damn. "Chloe, get on traffic cams and get every license plate coming out of the tunnel to cross-reference with our databases."

Chloe glared. "That's going to take forever."

"Split it up in your department, or whatever, I don't care. Just do it, okay?"

"Fine."

"Michelle!" Jack caught up with her as she left the locker room. "You sure you're okay to drive?"

Glancing down at her bandaged arm, Michelle nodded. "It's fine."

"Michelle, he's still on the loose, so… keep your gun close tonight; you got that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thanks Jack," she gave him an appreciative smile, and felt instinctively at the hard metal in her holster. Hesitantly, but almost without thinking, she reached a hand out to touch his shoulder she added, "You be careful, too."

"Yeah." They stood there for a moment, uncomfortable, before Jack said, "Goodnight Michelle. Take care."

"You too," she told him gently before turning to leave.

Michelle was trembling a little as she searched for her keys. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she was incredibly drained and felt about ready to pass out. In addition to being utterly exhausted, she was shaken up, scared, her arm was sore, and to top it all off she had a killer headache again.

She just wanted to go home; she didn't know how much longer she could hold it together. Where were the damn keys? Michelle sighed in relief as her fingers met the metal and she pulled the keys out of her purse to unlock the car.

As she slid into the seat, Michelle was acutely aware of the gun wedged between her hip and the seat back, and there was something about the feeling that disturbed her.

Sinking onto the couch, Michelle let her eyes droop shut and let out a long sigh. When she reached up to her eyes to massage some of the tension out, she felt tears on her fingertips and realized that she was crying. She let her hand continue up her forehead, pushing the hair out of her face as her head fell to the side, settling onto the edge of the armrest. Michelle drew her legs up under her and breathed in and out deeply, willing the tears to stop.

With a little apprehension, Michelle glanced down at her arm and felt a sudden and overpowering desire for Tony to be there. It washed over her all at once, its intensity almost making her dizzy. While his protectiveness over her could sometimes make her want to scream, Michelle would have given anything at that moment to have him beside her, gentle and concerned.

He would sit close to her, with one hand across her back and the other cradling her hurt arm. He'd stroke the edge of the bandage with his thumb, and look up at her with irrational worry. "How's it feel?" She'd roll her eyes a little, but after a moment she'd relent and admit that it was tender and sore. Then he'd melt and brush his lips across her neck. She'd sink into him, resting her head on his chest, and he'd pull her into his lap and feel her body go limp. After a few minutes, though, she'd reach up to her throbbing temples, and he'd brush her hands back, asking, "Headache?" "Yeah," she'd murmur, her voice muffled by his shirt. Then his hands would begin to rub small circles across her forehead and temples, and she'd relax as the pain began to dissipate. She'd be almost asleep when he'd cup her cheek in his hand and say, "Let's go to bed, honey." She'd turn her face into his chest again and mumble that she was tired, and he would sigh and pull her up. With his arm around her waist and her head flopped onto his shoulder, they'd stumble to bed and she'd be out within minutes.

But he wasn't there, though, and no hand reached over to squeeze hers, no tender voice asked if she was all right, no warm arms wrapped around her. She was alone, all alone. She wanted Tony to pick up her hands and squeeze them, to remind her that she would make it through this.

Trembling, Michelle stood and looked down at her hands. They were capable hands; there was no question about that. They were hands that brushed over keyboards to find vital information. Hands that had restrained any number of dangerous people, dangerous in the most quintessential sense. Hands that gripped guns and pulled the triggers.

Tonight, the hands trembled. White and fragile, they looked no more substantial than a doll's. Those were not hands that could commit the acts of violence that Michelle knew in her heart they had. These hands looked innocent; they weren't.

Michelle could feel herself slowly sinking back onto the couch as she held her injured arm in one hand and stared down. She'd shot a man that day. Pulled the trigger and sent a bullet driving through his flesh. Oh, she knew perfectly well that it had been necessary, knew that she was more than justified, knew that it was the only thing she could have done as an agent.

But the part that everyone forgot was that she was more than simply an agent. She was a woman, too, and the human part of her was guilt-stricken at her actions. It wasn't as though this was the first time she'd been through this, but always before, Tony had been there. He had held her while she cried and he'd talked her through the guilt, knowing firsthand what it felt like.

And it was hard, so hard, to deal with this by herself. Not just the guilt, but everything was overwhelming. Michele was badly shaken; she always was and if what Tony and even Jack told her was true, it would always be that way. She was on edge, jumping when she heard the sound of central air whirring.

Pull yourself together, she reprimanded herself, standing up, You're a mess. Too tired to eat and not caring enough to bother, she slowly made her way toward the bedroom and tried not to think about how empty the bed would feel.

Michelle stripped off the top and pants she'd changed into after returning to CTU, tossing them onto the floor and reaching into the dresser drawer for one of Tony's t-shirts. Telling herself that wearing her husband's shirt to bed was silly, a sign of weakness, Michelle had stubbornly been refusing to pull one on as she'd desperately been wanting to. That night, though, she simply couldn't help herself. She needed him, needed him so badly…

Trying for no discernable reason to stop from crying, Michelle crawled into bed and wrapped her arm the pillow, wishing with a fierce desperation that he was there.

Michelle went into work early the next morning; tired, sore, and irritable. What wouldn't she give for a day off…

Besides the night shift, the only person already there was Jack. When he saw Michelle enter, he looked up and came towards her. "How you doing?" he asked in a low voice.

Michelle gave a brief smile that did not extend to her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Michelle…"

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

With a resigned sigh, Jack nodded. "Okay."

She gave another faint smile and walked briskly toward her office. Her arm hurt and she was tired and she just didn't want to talk to anyone right then. With a little sigh of her own, she sat down in front of her computer, logging into the system. No alerts were waiting for her, so Michelle reluctantly logged into her e-mail, where there would doubtless be any number of bureaucrats on her ass about some insignificant thing or another.

As she read the third e-mail, from Brad Hammond, Michelle's eyes slowly grew wide, and she froze.

Michelle,

You've done good work restructuring CTU, and Homeland Security wants you to head the restructuring at their Seattle branch. I agree. You will start at the beginning of next week. The transfer is not contestable.