Fall from Grace
The call came at 2:37 AM, jarring Jack Bauer from a fitful sleep. He reached for his phone, already alert – years of CTU operations had trained his body to go from dead sleep to full awareness in seconds.
"Yeah?"
"Jack, it's Chloe." Her familiar clipped tone came through clearly, though there was something else in her voice. Worry? From Chloe O'Brien of all people?
"Chloe? What's wrong?" Jack sat up, careful not to wake Audrey sleeping beside him. He slipped out of bed and walked to the window of their D.C. apartment, looking out over the capital's nighttime skyline.
"It's Tony." There was a pause. "I know we're not supposed to talk about him, what with the whole treason thing and everything, but... something's wrong, Jack. Really wrong."
Jack's jaw tightened. He hadn't spoken to Tony Almeida since his release from prison four months ago. The reduced sentence – seven months instead of twenty years or worse – had been partly due to Jack's testimony about Tony's eventual cooperation in stopping Stephen Saunders and containing the Cordilla virus.
"What do you mean, wrong?"
"I've been... monitoring him." Chloe's voice took on that defensive tone she used when she knew she was doing something she shouldn't. "Don't give me that look, Jack. I know you're giving me that look through the phone."
Despite the situation, Jack almost smiled. "Go on."
"He's drinking. A lot. Like, concerning amounts. And he hasn't left his house in Los Angeles for five days. The security cameras I accessed—"
"Chloe..."
"Oh please, like you wouldn't have done the same thing. The cameras show him just... sitting there. Sometimes walking around. Drinking. Michelle left him three months ago."
Jack closed his eyes. Michelle. Of course. He remembered Tony's face when Hammond had arrested him for treason – that mix of resignation and peace, knowing that at least Michelle was safe. "Left him?"
"Filed for divorce. Took a position with Homeland Security in Seattle. I tried calling him but he won't answer. I know we're not... friends, exactly. But you need to do something, Jack. This isn't right."
Jack glanced back at Audrey's sleeping form. Things had been good with her. Really good. The DOD job was straightforward, almost peaceful compared to his CTU days. No more torture, no more impossible choices. Just policy and procedure, exactly what he needed after everything that happened with Nina Myers, with Stephen Saunders, with having to execute Ryan Chappelle...
"Jack? Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here." He sighed. "Send me what you have. I'll take care of it."
"Already sent to your secure server. And Jack? Thanks."
The line went dead. Jack stood at the window for a long moment before opening his laptop and accessing the files Chloe had sent. The security camera footage was grainy but clear enough – Tony stumbling around his house, bottles everywhere. In one clip he just sat in a chair for hours, staring at nothing.
"Jack?" Audrey's sleepy voice came from the bed. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." He closed the laptop. "Just need to take a quick trip to Los Angeles."
The rental car crunched up Tony's gravel driveway sixteen hours later. Jack had told Secretary Heller he needed a few personal days, arranged a flight, and headed straight to Tony's place from LAX. The house looked unchanged from the outside, but several empty bottles lay scattered across the front lawn.
Jack knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, harder.
"Go away." Tony's voice was rough, slurred.
"Not happening, Tony. Open the door."
A pause. "Jack?" Footsteps approached, uneven. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Open the door and find out."
More shuffling, then the sound of locks being undone. The door swung open to reveal Tony Almeida – or what was left of him. His usually neat appearance was gone, replaced by several days of stubble and unwashed clothes. The smell of alcohol wafted out.
"Jesus, Tony." Jack pushed past him into the house, taking in the disaster zone of empty bottles and takeout containers. "What are you doing to yourself?"
"What does it look like?" Tony stumbled back to his couch, grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey from the coffee table. "I'm enjoying my retirement. Now get out."
Jack moved to stand in front of him, arms crossed. "This isn't retirement, Tony. This is suicide in slow motion."
Tony's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to judge me, Jack. Not after everything that's happened. Not after-" He cut himself off, taking another long drink.
"After what? After you sacrificed everything to save Michelle's life? After you did exactly what I would have done in your position?" Jack's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "Yeah, I was there, remember? I testified at your hearing. So did President Palmer. We got your sentence reduced because we believed in you."
"Fat lot of good that did." Tony laughed bitterly. "Seven months in prison. Lost my career. Lost my wife. Tell me Jack, what exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?"
"You're alive. Michelle's alive. That was the point, wasn't it?"
Tony hurled the whiskey bottle against the wall, glass shattering everywhere. "She left me! After everything I did for her, everything I gave up - she couldn't handle what I became. Said I was 'withdrawn.' Said I wouldn't talk to her. What was I supposed to tell her, Jack? How it felt in that cell knowing that every second I was in there, she was getting more distant? How I couldn't sleep without seeing Saunders' face, hearing him tell me he was going to kill her if I didn't help him?"
Jack watched his friend's outburst calmly. "So this is better? Drowning yourself in booze, pushing away everyone who cares about you?"
"Don't pretend you understand. You've got your perfect new life at DOD, your perfect new girlfriend. Must be nice, moving on so easily after Teri-"
Jack moved faster than Tony's alcohol-addled reflexes could track. In an instant, he had Tony pinned against the wall, forearm pressed against his throat.
"Don't," Jack growled. "Don't you dare use Teri to try to hurt me. You know better than that."
For a moment, something like shame flickered across Tony's face. Then it was gone, replaced by dull anger. "What do you want from me, Jack?"
Jack released him, stepping back. "I want you to get your shit together. You've got 24 hours."
Tony barked out a harsh laugh. "Or what?"
"Or I stop asking nicely." Jack headed for the door, pausing in the doorway. "24 hours, Tony. Clean yourself up, or I'm going to do it for you. And you're not going to like my methods."
"Go to hell, Jack."
"Probably. But I'm not letting you beat me there." The door closed behind him with finality.
The sun was setting when Jack pulled up to Tony's house exactly 24 hours later. He sat in the rental car for a moment, studying the property. Nothing had changed – if anything, there were more bottles scattered across the lawn. The lights were on inside, casting yellow squares on the gathering darkness.
Jack checked his pocket, feeling the weight of the syringe there. A fast-acting sedative he'd acquired through old CTU contacts. He hoped he wouldn't need it, but hope hadn't gotten him very far in life.
The front door was unlocked this time. Jack pushed it open slowly, hand instinctively reaching for a sidearm that wasn't there. Old habits.
"Tony?"
Music was playing somewhere in the house – old punk rock, turned up loud enough to make conversation difficult. Jack recognized it from their early days at CTU, when Tony would sometimes play The Ramones while running tactical simulations. That felt like several lifetimes ago.
He found Tony in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand. He looked worse than yesterday, if that was possible. His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused.
"Right on time." Tony's words were slurred but bitter. "Always could count on Jack Bauer to keep his promises. Even the stupid ones."
Jack took in the scene – more broken glass on the floor, what looked like the remains of a chair smashed against the wall. "I told you to clean yourself up."
"Yeah?" Tony gestured around with the bottle. "I cleaned. Threw some stuff away. Had a shower. Then I decided, you know what? I don't actually have to do what Jack Bauer tells me anymore. I'm not your subordinate. Not your asset. Not your problem."
"You're my friend."
Tony laughed, harsh and hollow. "Friend? That what you call it? Where were you the seven months I was in prison, Jack? Where were you when I got out? When everything started falling apart with Michelle?" He took another long drink. "Oh right – you were off playing bureaucrat at DOD, pretending to be normal."
"I'm here now."
"Well now's a little late." Tony pushed off from the counter, swaying slightly. "You can go back to DC, Jack. Back to your nice clean life with what's-her-name. Audrey? Tell Heller I said hi."
Jack remained still, watching Tony carefully. "Not happening."
"No?" Tony's voice turned dangerous. "What, you gonna force me into rehab? Drag me to an AA meeting? Save my soul?"
"If that's what it takes."
Tony hurled the bottle at Jack's head. Jack ducked easily – Tony's aim was way off – and the bottle shattered against the wall behind him.
"Get out!" Tony roared. "Get out of my house! You don't get to walk in here and try to fix me like I'm one of your missions. Like I'm some problem you need to solve to feel better about yourself."
"This isn't about me feeling better." Jack's voice remained steady. "This is about stopping you from destroying yourself."
"Why?" Tony spread his arms wide. "Why does it matter to you what I do? I already lost everything that mattered. My career. My wife. My self-respect. What exactly am I supposed to be living for?"
"You're supposed to be living because Michelle didn't die." Jack took a step forward. "Because when you made that choice – when you betrayed CTU to save her life – you decided her life was worth more than anything else. More than your career, more than protocol, more than your own freedom. You made the same choice I would have made."
"Don't." Tony's voice was raw. "Don't try to compare our situations."
"Why not? Because you lived through it? Because Michelle survived?" Jack's calm finally cracked. "You think I don't understand loss? What it does to you? I watched my wife bleed out in CTU medical because I couldn't get there in time. Because Nina Myers – someone I trusted, someone I—" He cut himself off. "I watched the light go out of her eyes, Tony. And then I had to tell Kim her mother was dead. So don't tell me I don't understand what you're going through."
"This isn't about Teri." Tony grabbed another bottle from the counter, fumbling with the cap. "This is about me not being able to look at myself in the mirror anymore. About waking up every morning knowing I betrayed everything I believed in. Everything I stood for."
"You stood for protecting the people you love. That hasn't changed."
"Has it?" Tony laughed bitterly. "I couldn't even do that right. Couldn't protect Michelle from what happened to me in prison. From what I became after. You know what she said when she left? Said she didn't recognize me anymore. Said the man she married wouldn't shut down like this, wouldn't push her away."
"So prove her right." Jack moved closer, careful to keep his movements non-threatening. "Show her the man she married is still in there."
"He's not." Tony's voice cracked. "That man died the day I chose her life over my duty. Over everything I swore to protect." He took another drink. "You know what the worst part is? I'd do it again. In a heartbeat. Even knowing how it ends – with her leaving, with me like this – I'd still make the same choice. What does that make me, Jack?"
"Human." Jack was within arm's reach now. "It makes you human."
Tony's fist came out of nowhere, catching Jack on the jaw. Jack rolled with the punch, tasting blood. Tony followed up with a wild haymaker that Jack easily sidestepped.
"Human?" Tony spat the word like poison. "Is that what you tell yourself about Chappelle? About having to execute him on Saunders' orders? Just being human?"
Jack's eyes hardened. "That was different."
"Was it? We both chose to save someone we loved that day. You chose Palmer over Chappelle. I chose Michelle over everything else. Only difference is, you got a medal and I got prison time."
"I followed orders. You went rogue."
"Orders?" Tony laughed wildly. "Since when has Jack Bauer cared about orders? How many protocols did you break going after Nina? After the nuke? After Saunders?"
"This isn't about me."
"No, it's about double standards. About how Jack Bauer gets to break every rule in the book because he's always right, always justified. But the rest of us? We're just supposed to fall in line. Follow protocol. Be good little soldiers."
Tony swung again. This time Jack caught his arm, using Tony's momentum to spin him around and pin him against the wall.
"You're drunk, Tony. You're not thinking clearly."
Tony struggled against Jack's hold. "I'm thinking clearer than I have in months. You want to know what I think about? Every single day? I think about how if I'd just let Michelle die – if I'd just followed protocol like a good CTU director – everything would be different. I'd still have my career. Still have my self-respect. Maybe even still have her, because she never would have had to see what I became after prison."
"You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" Tony's laugh was closer to a sob now. "At least she'd have died believing in me. Believing I was the man she married. Instead of living long enough to watch me become... this."
Jack tightened his grip as Tony tried to break free. "You're not thinking about what she would have wanted. Michelle wouldn't have wanted you to die for her. She wouldn't want this either."
"What Michelle wanted stopped mattering the moment she walked out that door." Tony slammed his head back, catching Jack in the face. Jack's grip loosened just enough for Tony to break free.
Tony stumbled to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the counter. His hands were shaking. "Stay back, Jack. I mean it."
Jack raised his hands slowly, tasting blood from his split lip. "What's your play here, Tony? You going to stab me? Add assault with a deadly weapon to your record?"
"Just leave. Please." The knife wavered in Tony's grip. "I can't... I can't do this right now."
"Can't do what? Face the fact that you're killing yourself? That you're throwing away the life Michelle sacrificed everything to save?"
"Shut up!" Tony slashed the air between them. "You don't get to use her against me. Not after everything that happened. Not after—" He cut himself off, swaying dangerously.
"Not after what?" Jack took a careful step forward. "Not after you proved you'd do anything to save her life? Not after you showed her how much you loved her?"
"Stop it."
"You think Michelle would want this? Want you drinking yourself to death in some twisted attempt at punishment?"
"I said stop!" Tony lunged forward with the knife. Jack sidestepped, caught Tony's wrist, and slammed it against the counter until the knife clattered to the floor. Tony fought like a wild animal, all technique gone, just raw desperate energy. They crashed into the living room, knocking over furniture.
"You don't understand," Tony gasped between punches. "You can't understand. I lost everything. My job. My wife. My goddamn soul. And for what? So she could look at me like I was a stranger? So she could pack her bags and leave because I couldn't tell her about the nightmares? About seeing Saunders' face every time I closed my eyes?"
Jack blocked most of Tony's wild swings, but a few connected. He tasted more blood. "So talk to her now. Tell her the truth."
"The truth?" Tony laughed brokenly. "The truth is I'm exactly what they said I was in prison. A traitor. A man who betrayed his country, his oath, everything he believed in. And I'd do it again. What kind of truth is that?"
"It's a truth I understand better than you think." Jack caught one of Tony's punches, used the momentum to spin him around into a chokehold. "You think I don't see Nina's face sometimes? Think I don't wonder if I could have stopped her earlier if I hadn't been compromised? If I hadn't let my feelings cloud my judgment?"
Tony struggled against the hold. "That was different. Nina was a traitor. Michelle was innocent."
"And that's why you made the right choice." Jack tightened his grip as Tony thrashed. "You chose to save an innocent life. The woman you loved. There's no shame in that."
"No shame?" Tony's voice was raw. "Then why can't I look at myself in the mirror anymore? Why do I see a stranger every time I try?"
"Because you're not letting yourself heal." Jack could feel Tony's struggles weakening. "You're punishing yourself instead of facing what happened."
"Maybe I deserve to be punished." Tony's words were starting to slur, either from the alcohol or the lack of oxygen. "Maybe this is exactly what I deserve."
"No." Jack's voice was firm. "What you deserve is a chance to make things right. To be the man Michelle fell in love with again."
"That man's dead." Tony's struggles were getting weaker. "He died in prison. Or maybe before that. Maybe he died the moment I chose her over my duty."
"He's not dead." Jack shifted his grip, reaching for the syringe with his free hand. "He's just lost right now. And I'm going to help you find him again."
Tony must have felt the needle, because he renewed his struggles. "No... Jack, don't..."
"I'm sorry, Tony." Jack pressed the plunger. "But I'm not letting you die like this."
Tony's legs gave out as the sedative hit his system. Jack lowered him carefully to the floor, supporting his head.
"You... bastard..." Tony's words were barely audible now. "Why couldn't you just... let me..."
"Because that's not what friends do." Jack watched as Tony's eyes started to close. "And whether you believe it or not right now, you're still my friend."
Tony tried to say something else, but the sedative finally pulled him under. Jack checked his pulse – strong and steady, if a bit fast from the alcohol and fighting.
He pulled out his phone, dialing a familiar number.
"Chloe? Yeah, it's done. He's sedated. I need you to arrange transport to the coordinates I sent you earlier." He paused, listening. "No, he didn't take it well. Yes, I know it was risky. Just get everything set up. And Chloe? Thank you."
Jack ended the call, looking down at Tony's unconscious form. His friend's face was finally peaceful, the anger and pain smoothed away by chemical sleep. Jack touched his split lip, wincing.
"You're going to hate me for this when you wake up," he said quietly. "But sometimes staying alive is more important than staying friends."
He started gathering what they'd need for the trip north. Three hours to Vancouver, then another hour to the cabin. By the time Tony woke up, they'd be far from anywhere he could get alcohol or run away from his demons.
Jack looked around the destroyed living room one last time before carrying Tony to the car. Empty bottles everywhere, broken furniture, shattered glass – a perfect mirror of Tony's internal state.
"Time to start over," Jack muttered, closing the front door behind them. "Whether you're ready or not."
The sun had fully set now, leaving the street dark except for the occasional streetlight. Jack carefully laid Tony in the backseat, checking the restraints one more time. The sedative would keep him under for the drive, but Jack wasn't taking any chances. Not with Tony in this state.
He got behind the wheel, starting the engine. In the rearview mirror, he could see Tony's face, finally peaceful after months of torment.
"I couldn't save Teri," Jack said quietly. "Couldn't save Nina from herself. Couldn't save Chappelle. But I'm going to save you, Tony. Even if you hate me for it."
The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the broken house and empty bottles behind. Somewhere in Seattle, Michelle was probably working late at her new job, trying to rebuild her own life. Maybe someday she'd understand why Jack had to do this. Why he couldn't let Tony destroy himself.
But for now, all that mattered was getting his friend somewhere he could heal. Somewhere he could remember who he was before prison, before Saunders, before everything fell apart.
The cabin waited, three hours north of Vancouver. Remote. Peaceful. A good place to face your demons, Jack knew from experience. He'd bought it after Teri died, when he needed somewhere to put himself back together.
Now it was Tony's turn.
The car headed north through the Los Angeles night, carrying its unconscious passenger toward something that might be salvation or might be just another form of prison. Only time would tell.
But at least Tony would be alive to find out.