Jack had stayed at her house for almost a week now, out of both guilt and concern, knowing that any insistence she was 'fine' was a bald-faced lie.
She'd gone back to work far too soon for anybody's liking, a mere two days after his death. But nobody had dared to question her, not when they could see she was at her wit's end, mustering every last ounce of energy and emotion into work. Michelle had gone in head first, throwing herself back into the stresses of CTU as though nothing had happened. But Jack knew she was simply distracting herself, simply forcing her mind to do something else instead of thinking about him. People whispered, wondering what was possibly going through her mind, wondering how the hell she could just go back to work as though nothing had happened. Why else would she stay at CTU when all that waited at home were haunting reminders of what once was?
Jack woke in the middle of the night to the sound of quiet grumbles and clicks on a keyboard. He walked over from the fold-out sofa to her home office, where a blue glow illuminated the room. She sat in the desk chair with her knees to her chest, pen and paper on one side, laptop on the other. Despite the cool hue of the lighting, he could see she looked a little pale. She wasn't sleeping well, between her insistence on working at all possible hours, as well as vicious nightmares that sometimes shocked her body to the point of being physically sick.
"Michelle? What are you doing?"
She typed something frantically on the computer. Jack moved closer to see what it was. It appeared to be security footage of a small room, its sole occupant asleep. Michelle pressed rewind, playing it frame by frame and fervidly jotting down notes. She did this a few times, almost obsessively. Each time, figures clad in identical orange jumpsuits ran in, guards behind them trying to hold them back but finding their efforts utterly futile as they dragged the sleeping person out of bed and began to beat them. The figures were intentionally avoiding having their faces seen by the camera. Jack glanced down at the paper beside her, seeing details written about identifying tattoos, the order of entry, and hypotheses about the identity of the men. She zoomed in on certain sections, peering intently and writing down more information before zooming back out.
"I-I have to find the truth." She said, almost monotonously. "I-I need to know who did this to him."
He let out a breath, knowing that if he were in her position, he would surely be doing the same. At least he could live with the fact that he knew who killed Teri. There was no investigation other than figuring out what other atrocities Nina had committed while supposedly working for the government. So he understood where she was coming from, but also knew it was simply a sign that she was still numb from shock, that the grief still hadn't hit her. It wasn't right. She shouldn't have to see the moment of his death replay over and over again. She shouldn't have to try and solve some mystery.
"How did you get this?" Security footage from a crime scene wasn't generally available. Even on government databases, access was only granted to those part of the investigation.
"Chloe…" She muttered.
"Michelle, you need to sleep. You got home late, and I know you'll be up early to go to work. Please. Let the police do their job."
She seemed to react strongly to that. "'Job'? It was their job to protect him. He wasn't supposed to be in prison in the first place. If he had just gotten a suspension, this wouldn't have happened. If…if I had just been more careful, this wouldn't have happened, he wouldn't be dead, he would be alive and here with me and-"
He placed a hand over hers, stilling the rapid clicking of the keys. His eyes met hers, so bloodshot and exhausted, circles beneath them dark and heavy. Michelle's face screwed up and Jack simply turned the chair, crouching down in front of her. He let her collapse into his arms, and she started to weep quietly.
"This is not your fault." He murmured. "If anything, it's mine. I should have tried harder to convince Palmer to pardon him then and there."
He felt her shake his head against him. "He did all of that because of me, Jack. It's my responsibility, it's my-" Her body sunk further into his as she cried harder, no longer able to maintain whatever composure she had left.
"But it is not your responsibility to figure this out."
Michelle sniffled.
"Promise me you won't keep doing this." Jack sighed. "I understand, I do. Maybe it's not exactly the same thing, I know it must be so hard not even knowing who they are, but the police will tell you. I spent a very long time wondering if I could have picked up that Nina was betraying me, blaming myself for everything. It doesn't help, it just makes you feel worse."
She shrugged. "Maybe you're right."
"You know he wouldn't want this for you."
Suddenly, her demeanour changed. She pulled back, a scowl on her face. "Don't tell me that. You don't know what he wants because he's not here, Jack."
Michelle stood, slamming the laptop shut and leaving the study. He followed her.
"I'm sorry..." Exhausted, he ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Michelle."
"Just go. Please. I-I know you want to be there for me, and I appreciate that so much, but seeing you reminds me of that day and I can't…I can't keep thinking about it." She let out a breath. "The only way I'm going to have closure is when I find out who did this to him."
"You can't put a condition on your recovery, Michelle."
"Just go, Jack!" She yelled suddenly, her voice breaking. "Please, just…just leave me alone."
"Okay…okay." He said softly, not wanting to disrespect her wishes.
Jack could still hear her sobbing, even as he left and shut the front door, willing himself to not go back inside, to not support her as a friend the way he wished he would have let Tony do for him when Teri died.
If she wanted him to go, he would go.