After Driscoll fired her, Michelle distanced herself from Los Angeles as much as possible, opting for a job at one of the Division offices interstate. Jack, too, made changes. He found himself in DC, working a much more stable and predictable job for the Secretary of Defence. It was nice being able to have a routine, to not constantly have the thought of death or injury at the back of his mind. Kim preferred it too, and for the first time in his life, Jack felt as though things were okay.

Chloe spoke to him frequently, updating him on the dynamics of CTU, noting how drastically it had changed and how often people came and went. Nobody seemed to stay there for too long. With fewer people there, terrorist threats usually ended up being handed to other agencies, so the amount of incoming job applications decreased. Nobody wanted to sign a contract to work somewhere that wouldn't give them anything to do, especially if the pay was lower. There were rumours of the Los Angeles branch being shut down completely. Staff from other agencies often visited to discuss renovations, potential changes and possibilities for usage. There was clearly a bureaucratic fight for who would get the office space.

She also kept Jack up to date on the things happening in Kim and Chase's lives, not being able to see them as often as he wished he could. But they were well. Chloe was also one of the few people still in touch with Michelle. Jack didn't communicate with her now, as per her request, but he still wondered how she was doing. From a glance, she seemed to be functioning. Judging by her file, Michelle had undergone more intensive training and become more qualified to work to the top of the corporate ladder. But this told him nothing of her well-being.

However, Jack now had the opportunity to face her and find out the truth. After over a year of debating and speculating, a conference in Los Angeles was announced to finalise whether the CTU unit remained open. Other agencies had been invited to give their opinion and survey the space to see if they could find a more suitable purpose. Secretary Heller had insisted on going, making sure Jack was with him to give a more informed opinion. Over in Seattle, Bill Buchanan had insisted on the same thing for Michelle.

Michelle was unreadable when their eyes met. He watched her go over to Chloe and smile a little, seeing some of the light return to her eyes. It seemed that she really had been there for her. Heller said something to Jack about meeting room space, forcing him to snap back to reality. They continued to walk around the familiar halls, entering familiar rooms and meeting familiar faces. His ears perked up at the sound of some kind of commotion in one of the upstairs offices. Bill was in one room, and Michelle was in the other. The FBI agent in there with her suddenly left, pale as a ghost. Jack excused himself and made his way up the stairs, finding her alone.

As Jack stepped into the room, he realised exactly where he was.

Tony's old office.

Jack had occupied that office when he had taken charge of CTU, and then Driscoll had taken over upon her arrival. Michelle had always seemed a little strange when she had gone up there, but after such a long time away, it was likely dredging up a lot of memories for her.

"Everything okay?" He asked warily.

"Fine." She replied shortly.

Looking closer at her, he saw the effects of her internalisation, of how much she was pushing herself to work, to drive herself to do everything except feel and let out the grief that clearly still coursed through her body each and every day. She was thinner, dark circles under her eyes still visible beneath her makeup. Her hair was straight, her gaze stern. The main thing Jack noticed was the change in her physical attitude. She still held herself with a fiercer, colder gait, but the jitteriness was gone from her body. She seemed a little more stable compared with the last time. Still, though, the fatigue in her expression seemed to indicate there was something more to it. There was no reason to believe she wasn't still using outside of work.

"I think the agent who just walked out of here would say otherwise."

"Just leave it, Jack."

He didn't want to provoke her. He just wanted to understand. He just wanted her to be honest.

"What's going on?" Jack softened his voice.

"Nothing, Jack. Nothing." She stormed out, walking back down the stairs to where Bill was, and Jack knew she didn't want to be followed.

When he eventually left himself, he found Chloe standing near the bottom of the stairwell, biting her lip. She tilted her head, and he let her pull him aside.

"Don't be too hard on her, Jack. One of the people who killed Tony got parole today."

"Parole?" He looked at her, bewildered. "I thought most of them were on death row!"

Chloe shrugged. "One of the guys claimed he had tried to stop the fight from going too far. Some of the others are now trying to say the same thing or that Tony had threatened them during the earlier incidents, so they were afraid of him. We've all seen the footage. It's bullshit. Some kind of deal went down. I don't know what exactly, but I'm going to try and find out for her."

"You're still helping her access the investigation files?" He folded his arms.

"How can I say no to her, Jack? I know it's probably not the best thing for Michelle, but I'm not going to act like I know better or that I know what's good for her. She lost her husband to a brutal murder and the people who did it aren't getting punished. And just because you know what it's like to be a widow, it doesn't mean you should act like you know what's best for her either."

Jack sighed. "Look, before I leave today, could you text me the room number and the hotel she's staying at? I just want to apologise to her."

She nodded. "Sure."

They were all permitted to leave for the day several hours later. He decided to give Michelle some time before driving to the address Chloe had sent him in the evening. The least he could do was take her out somewhere to catch up, to help her acknowledge all the memories that being in Los Angeles was dredging up. Jack had no idea when she was going back to Seattle. Now more than ever, he wanted to try to make amends. He remembered the punch to the gut he had felt when Nina was pardoned. He didn't want Michelle to have to face those same emotions alone.

When Jack made it to the floor she was staying on, he knocked on the hotel room door, calling out her name.

There was no response.

He did it again, louder.

Again, nothing.

The 'Do Not Disturb' sign wasn't on the door. Jack wondered if Michelle was just in the bathroom, but he couldn't hear water running. In fact, he couldn't hear anything, even when he pressed his ear to the door. The lights, albeit dim, were still visible under the bottom of the door. It was only seven, so it was unlikely she was asleep.

"Michelle, I'm coming in," Jack said firmly, before shouldering the door open.

Only one of the bedside lamps was on. She was lying motionless on the bed, not beneath the covers, but above them, as though she had collapsed. As Jack moved closer, he found a collection of small, empty bottles of spirits on the table, presumably from the minibar. A few prescription bottles lay on their side, also empty. One of the labels showed it was for Vicodin. The date indicated a recent prescription but it wasn't under Michelle's name. He knew she'd hidden her drug problem from being undercover well enough to not get fired from CTU. But clearly, she'd switched to a slightly new vice, one that she could keep more private. How she'd gotten the drugs didn't matter. The point was she had likely taken them.

Michelle was still in the skirt and shirt she'd left CTU in. Her blazer was haphazardly discarded on a chair and her shoes were on the floor. She hadn't stirred at all despite his entrance, and Jack's stomach churned. He touched her hand lightly. It was clammy and limp. Frantically, he turned her body over so she was on her back. The colour had drained from her skin, lips just as blue as her fingertips. She was cold to the touch. Jack scrambled to find a weak, arrhythmic pulse. He started to panic and unbuttoned her collar to improve her circulation. Jack dashed into the bathroom and grabbed a small towel, soaking it in water. Leaving a small trail of droplets on the carpet, he quickly made his way back over and pressed it to her forehead.

"Michelle. Michelle! Wake up, come on…"

He squeezed her shoulders to shake her a little. Feeling his heart race, he grabbed the phone to call 911 with one hand and used the other to keep applying the damp cloth to her face. As soon as he hung up, he used both of his hands to check her airways, check for any sign of breathing, check for any sign that she was alive. Kneeling onto the bed, he used his body weight to press on her chest with his palms. His compressions made her move like a ragdoll. A sign that his efforts were futile. A tear fell from his face onto his hands, and the reality of the situation started to sink in. He was losing her.

When the paramedics arrived, they quickly pushed him out of the way. One of them insisted on dragging Jack out of the hotel room as they worked on her. The objects beside Michelle made it abundantly clear what had happened. She asked him why she might try to do this.

Oh, he knew, alright.

Before he could even begin to try to summarise the turmoil of the last two and a half years, the voices inside the room suddenly fell quiet. He felt a pang in his chest, realising there was no coughing or spluttering, no indication of revival. A woman came out, looking at Jack solemnly as she blocked the doorway. For some reason, Jack felt like he'd seen her somewhere before.

"I'm sorry, sir, she's gone."