Tony and Michelle stuff- written as a going away present for Jude

Lost

She stumbled over a rock, partially hidden by the muddy leaves that marked it for late autumn day that it undoubtedly was. She wasn't the sort to avoid the outdoors, had enjoyed walking when she was a child, running to be the first to climb the rock, first to reach the top of the hill. Even before today, she had enjoyed the idea of it. But now, here, alone and lost in the muggy afternoon, feeling out of place, cold, and just generally tired, she really wished that she had not agreed to this.

Of course, there was no way that she could refuse. She needed the job that had been implicit in this offer. She could not stay where she was, her brother making trouble, her boss making things worse. And last week, last week she had realised just how vital it was that she leave. She had found him, his calls that had been previously so insistent now missing. His door locked, but that was no problem for her. She's learned to pick locks with him when they were growing up, an interesting game before it became too dangerous. She thought maybe he'd gone out, but she wasn't going to wait in the corridor for him, it wasn't the best area in the world, and he wouldn't care in the slightest. But instead of the stench of stale beer and vomit, fresh blood removed all of her senses, turning her world red as she called for an ambulance.

She could not stay at work, she was being torn into so many pieces that it was tearing her core apart, the redness from her brother's blood seeping into every essence of her body and invading every part of her life, especially her dreams. Carrie, her friend Carrie, teased at her, vindictive, sly words, implying but never saying. And Danny, her big brother, so reliant upon her, his words much less guarded than Carrie's. How could she leave him to go to work, didn't she understand how ill he was? She just wanted to get away from him. She was on Carrie's side.

She wasn't, but she had to be if she was going to be able work, and at the moment, work was the only light that she had. She wasn't sure she could survive without it, without the certainty it provided.

So she had applied for the transfer, and had been lucky, there was a post at the LA CTU unit, no move required, no Carrie, no office full of people who had been turned against her. No reason for her brother to doubt every move she made. The head of data analysis at CTU had retired due to medical reasons just a month before, and CTU had been unable to find anyone who could actually do the job. Michelle was a life saver for them, but the job that it offered was much more than that for her.

And she'd received the offer, not officially, but it was obvious, with an offer to join the heads of the CTU operations on a field day. The day was required for the heads of departments that did not operate in the field, it was supposed to give them an insight into field operations. The offer meant that she had been accepted, no one would have included her otherwise, and the head of CTU, George Mason, had confirmed as much. The morning had gone fine, she had preliminary training for field operations, as well as some actual experience, which the others who didn't work in the field were obviously lacking. The head of field ops, as well as some of his deputies clearly knew what they were doing, and outstripped her easily, but that didn't bother her. She held her own, and she could see that the team as a whole was fairly cohesive, nothing like to the situation she was used to working under Carrie at Division.

But the afternoon had revealed an unpleasant surprise, they were going to be subjected to a search and rescue of a "body", a flashing beacon that responded to the transmitter in their phones. On their own. They also had the phone in case of emergencies, but that offer had clear implications, it said you were incompetent. The head of IT, Paula, looked she might need it, but Michelle was not going to stoop to that level, she was going to manage it. Even though she hated this type of exercise, couldn't stand it, had difficulties with understanding directions even in their simplest form.

So here she was, stumbling through a muddy, rocky deer trail, looking for the beacon. She had fallen over twice, once cutting her hand on the sharp rocks hidden within the mud that had seeped most the way up her trousers, forming a nice soggy layer that stuck to her skin, making her wince with every step she took. She wondered how many had finished already, a few of them looked as thought they could have. She wouldn't even be surprised if some of the field op guys didn't even bother to use the transmitters, just for fun. Although she could think of nothing less boring.

She thought she should be nearing her beacon by now, the damned thing on her phone was of no use at all, she knew how to make it work, but interpreting what it told her was something else entirely. It may as well have been written in an alien language.

She stumbled again, her legs were beginning to ache, not the ache that came with having walked too much, but the ache that came when exhaustion began to set in, the one that drew pain from every part of your body and GoIslanders! it shooting down your legs. This time she fell, again, landing in the mud, elbows skewed and knees catching her face from being smeared with dirt. A pause, too tired to scream the irritation that bubbled through her veins, but feeling it anyway.

"You want a hand?" A soft voice, almost a whisper. She hadn't known there had been a person there, but the softness of the voice, the gentleness of the tone, made her wonder how long he had been there. She wanted to jump, but held her body still, purposefully placing her head in her hands, running fingers through curls teased into frizz by a vicious wind. She ought to let it out, put it back up again, but these were idle thoughts, she hadn't the patience for that right now.

She turned finally, still in the mud. "I'm ok." She would get herself out of the mud, only it was far too comfortable and she too tired.

He moved out from behind her, checking if the mud coated girl was telling the truth. She wasn't, as was plain to anyone. But she had a hint of steel in her voice, and he knew full well that she wasn't going to take anyone telling her anything different.

Michelle watched the man perch himself on a non-muddy piece of ground- damning her body for not finding that instead of the mud pit it had collapsed into. She sat there too, watching him. He was one of the guys from this morning, the one who was so competent that it was frightening, and someone who definitely did not need to be here today.

"The others have all finished." He cut himself off there, his voice still not much more than a whisper, just telling her, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

Her eyes met his. She had pretty eyes, ones that made there way into your soul when you weren't expecting it. He knew her as much as she knew him, which is to say not at all. He didn't even know her name. She had seemed competent enough from this morning, but he wouldn't like to judge from that, some people seemed fine until it became real, then they crumbled into tiny pieces.

Her words were soft, almost broken, "I'm almost done..." It shocked him slighlty, that someone could place so much on succeeding in a silly training exercise. She seemed devastated by the fact that she hadn't been able to finish.

He smiled, a crooked smile, only one corner of his mouth, but eyes confirming the truth. "No you're not." He continued as she went to protest. "There is no body, that was the point. The others all gave up, called for help." You won. Not spoken, but there anyway. She had kept going, to the extent that even the head of field ops had been beaten by the untested computer geek from Division.

A smile, eyes lit up, face caught on fire. He was captivate; a windswept girl on a cold, wet afternoon, caked in mud, cheeks burning with exhaustion, and she was able to bring heat to him.

He kept his face still, and she missed his reaction, too intent on keeping herself from beaming, that she hadn't failed, that she wasn't completely useless. Carefully, telling himself to behave, he offered her his hand and helped her out of the mud.

The soft hand fitted inside his so perfectly, and no matter what he said to himself, his mind went into overdrive. Still keeping his face blank, he started forward as they began the rather more gentle walk back.

A gentle, slightly teasing voice broke into his thoughts, freeing him from the endless circles of possibilities his mind was throwing at him. Possibilities he had sworn to keep himself away from. "So did you…"

He smiled, a full smile now. "No, the beacons were my idea. I'm Tony Almeida." He offered her his hand again, this time automatically.

She smiled, a sweet smile, eyes twinkling. She had just offered the suggestion that Tony Almeida might lose at something, and he hadn't tried to remove her head, she was impressed. She took his hand. This man was to be her immediate boss, and he was going to be a lot easier to work under than Carrie had been. Even when they had been friends, such a suggestion would have left Michelle minus a limb. She liked that he had a sense of humour. She shook his hand, and this time it was her who was acutely aware of how warm it was around hers.

She ignored this, and instead answered his unspoken question. "Michelle Dessler…" and then rather more pertly, "Your new head of data analysis." She watched as this brought a smile to his face, then started after him, not noticing her exhaustion any more than she did the mud that had now made it's way all up her back.