A/N: I posted this on AO3 a little while ago, and thought I'd share it here. An idea that originally spawned as "Reverse Day 7"

CWs: Implied drug use, Implied alcoholism, suicide attempt.

Michelle's cell phone buzzed against the nightstand. Her hand came to her chest as she woke up to the sound of the vibration. It was dark outside, far too early in the morning for anybody to be calling her besides CTU. Sitting up in bed, she grabbed the phone, squinting at the caller ID. It was familiar but not quite the digits she was expecting.

"Dessler."

"This is the California State Prison." The clerk's voice was stern. "There's been an incident involving your husband, Tony Almeida. Please get here as soon as you can."

Michelle felt her stomach lurch. "What's happened?"

"Just get here as soon as possible, Ms Dessler."

The dial tone sounded and her heart started to race. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. She wouldn't dare put it into words, but she knew that for the call to have come through at this hour, it could only be something awful. Her hands were shaking, and she could barely catch her breath. Michelle stood slowly, but her knees wobbled and she nearly lost her balance. Planting her hands firmly on either side of the nightstand, one of them wedging her phone against the table, she tried to calm herself down, tried to inhale and exhale steadily. But her mind was imploring her to go, to run as fast as she could. Maybe she didn't know what it was exactly, but either way, she knew something was wrong. When she lifted herself again, her gait was slow as she tried to walk over to her wardrobe. One of her palms came flush with the wall, the other hand still clutching her cell phone tightly.

She couldn't drive like this. She didn't even think she'd be able to get dressed without collapsing. But who could she call at this hour? Tony's family was in Chicago, at CTU and Tony's insistence that they stay there and not visit yet. There'd been trouble between him and other prisoners already, and he didn't want to put them in danger by letting them be identified. He'd said the same thing to Michelle, but she figured that being a CTU agent probably already had her on a few of their hit lists anyway. He was her husband, and he was in there because of her. Michelle needed to see him, and that was exactly what she'd planned on doing for the first time tomorrow. Or, she supposed when she looked at the time, today. Her brother didn't live too far from her, but he wasn't in a position to support her. She knew he'd probably only worry her more.

Michelle remembered that Jack had just come back from rehab. He was probably exhausted. She didn't want to bother him, but she also knew that whatever awaited at the prison was something she couldn't face alone. Jack was quick to pick up the phone, probably out of habit from years of working at CTU.

"Michelle?"

"S-something happened. At the prison." Her breath got caught in her throat.

"Hey…hey…slow down, what's going on?" His voice was slightly confused but gentle.

Her laboured puffs were crackling through the receiver. "I-I don't know what but it…it can't be good."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Please."

"I'll come to pick you up, okay?" Michelle heard sheets ruffling as though he were frantically trying to get out of bed. "Michelle, I'll be there soon."

"Thank you…" Michelle breathed.

When he arrived, she was standing in the middle of her bedroom, staring at nothing, dressed in plain clothes, hair loosely tied back. Knowing that it probably hadn't crossed her mind, he helped her to lock up the house and keep the dog in, who'd woken up concerned and confused. As they went out to his car, she walked slowly, as though paralysed with panic. His eyes kept flitting over to her while he drove, noticing that she couldn't sit still, couldn't will her body to stop trembling. He wanted to ask for more information but figured that they hadn't told her much, since she was barely able to speak right now.

"It's going to be okay, Michelle…"

It was a lie and he knew it, but sometimes the illusion of reassurance was enough. Everything was pent-up right now, all of the anxiety and worry and racing thoughts were peaking. They would go inside, and whatever awaited them would be there. Whatever it was, they would soon find out. But right now they just had to walk those fateful steps.

Michelle shook her head.

"N-no. I can tell, Jack." Her voice was grave. "Something bad has happened."

Looking up at the prison exterior as the engine died down, her breath hitched. She'd been that distracted the whole car ride, she hadn't noticed that they'd already made their way down. There were ambulances and extra police cars parked outside. Jack's stomach sank, with whatever tiny hope he'd had that it was nothing serious completely dissipating. He grabbed her shaking hand on the console between them, meeting her eyes, silently communicating that regardless of whatever was inside, she wasn't going to be alone. Michelle took a few more deep breaths and they entered the prison. Before they could even make it to the front desk, someone was quick to already usher her and Jack aside.

"What's going on with Tony Almeida?" Jack asked, trying to mask the fear in his voice.

"Over the past few weeks, we've noticed some tension between Almeida and a few of the other prisoners. They seemed to be harassing him rather frequently, so we had him placed in solitary confinement for his protection."

Jack furrowed his brow as they continued to walk down the hall. "So what's the issue?"

"There was an ambush in his cell. One of the guards was killed, another two seriously injured, and…" The warden sighed. "Almeida was also a casualty. He was completely outnumbered when they attacked him."

Had she heard the warden right? Casualty? Everything seemed to slip away from her as they shoved through hoards of cops and other guards and prisoners being questioned. Her brain tried to comprehend it all. It made no sense. They'd put him in solitary but somehow the exact thing they were trying to prevent happened anyway? Who were these people? What did they want with him? Why did they kill him?

"How the hell did this happen?" Jack yelled. "Solitary confinement is supposed to be more secure than any other part of the prison, and you're telling me that a handful of prisoners were able to breach that?"

"That's what we have to investigate now."

They found themselves at the heart of the action. Police tape was being drawn. Evidence was being bagged. Pools of blood reflected under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Two figures lay motionless on the ground, both covered by white sheets.

The warden turned to face Michelle, face softening a little. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She moved forward, and the sight before her caused her to let out a gasp.

"T-Tony…" Michelle continued to walk to where the bodies were, as though wanting to see for herself, wanting the sight of his body to snap her out of the dream she hoped she was having.

One of the cops stopped her. "I'm sorry, this is an active crime scene."

He held her back as she tried to shove past. Michelle started protesting, saying that she had to see, that it was her God-damned husband lying there, that she had the right to see.

The warden grabbed Jack's hand as he went to help her.

"Almeida wasn't exactly in the best shape. If you care about her, I wouldn't want her seeing him like that."

If the overwhelming amount of blood on the floor was any indication of the severity of the situation, Jack couldn't deny that what lay beneath the sheet was not what Michelle deserved to remember him by. Quickly moving over to where she was, he grabbed her by the shoulder. She twisted in his grip, asking him to let go. Michelle managed to lift the corner of the sheet, shuddering at how disfigured his face had become, at the red, inflamed, raw skin she saw there. One of the officers pulled her away and she screamed. Again, she fought their hold and tried to break free, now feeling the need to see what had become of him consume her.

Taking her by surprise, Jack stepped in, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pinning her biceps by her sides.

"He doesn't want you to see him like this." He said in her ear, feeling so pained at the sight, knowing the exact hurricane of emotions that was consuming her right now.

He let her fight his grip a little longer, let her concede on her own, indicated by the way her body collapsed in his arms, so wrought with despair. Turning around, her eyes were brimming with tears she'd likely been holding since before they left the house. Her bottom lip was wobbling. He sniffled and his vision was starting to blur. Taking her over into an empty hallway, he embraced her tightly, and she sobbed relentlessly in his arms. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders as they sunk to the cold linoleum floor, and all he could do was apologise. So much tragedy had befallen her in such a short time and Jack knew that she had simply been pushing it down without facing it properly. He had promised her he would do everything he could to get Tony pardoned or at least shorten his sentence once he came out of rehab. It had only been a day since he'd come home and he had already failed to keep that promise. Jack chastised himself now, wondering if he should have prioritised that over rehab. Michelle, along with everybody else at CTU had pushed him to go and told him that he needed to.

But because of that, yet another person close to him was dead now, with others suffering horrifically.

Jack held her until the sun started to rise through the sole, tiny window of the corridor. He drove her home, insisting the lead detective call him with any progress they made. He was supposed to go discuss his reinstatement with CTU today but instead realised he would have to spend it calling Tony's family, as well as Michelle's.

She went straight to bed when they got back to her house, curling herself into a ball and staring blankly out the window.

Shutting the door behind him, he moved to sit on the living room couch, noticing their wedding photo on the table beside him.

Only now did Jack bury his face in his hands and let his own tears fall.