He remembers the exact moment he fell in love with her. It had been in that dark hallway here at CTU, she had had been upset, crying, and he had justtaken her into his embrace and felt somewhat surprised that she actually seemed to be calming down a little. And then he pulled back, relying totally on his instincts as he pushed the curls out of her face. He remembers the softness of her cheek, and how his thumb had refused to stay away from it, and kept stroking it ever so gently. And as her eyes met his, there was such an honest vulnerability in them that he knew without a doubt that he had never seen in Nina's, and that was when he felt his heart move past just caring, just attraction- to a kind of love that was so unfamiliar at first that it was almost frightening. But then she kissed him for the first time, clearing his mind from all his doubts, all his worries, all his regretsfor having snapped at her earlier. Nothing is for sure, and he knew that, but he also knew at the moment that she murmured an apology and he gently nudged her face back up with his nose so that her mouth was back on his, that he was going to marry her one day.

He never would have thought he had it in him to hurt her so much that she would leave him, breaking both their hearts in the process. He pretends to still resent her for it, but the truth is that he's long forgiven her, knowing that she wouldn't have left unless she really didn't see another way for her to go on. And he realizes he was terrible to her, ignored her, disappeared for days on end without even letting her know he was alright, drank himself stupid on the rare occasions that they were home together- but God knows, she had been the only thing in the world that had kept him sane, and still is. He hopes she knows this, but as he watches her now- as the new Director of CTU LA, calm and poised and in control, so different from the scared young woman he had once comforted at this very place- he knows she thinks that he feels he is better off without her, and this kills him because it's pretty much the cause of why he had screwed it all up in the first place.

He hadn't been able to handle the guilt written all over her face, the ever-present pain burning in her eyes, and had felt himself already pulling away from her while he was still in prison. She had always been so easy to comfort, and now with that horrible, merciless glass wall forever between them when she visited, he found himself unable to do anything to make her feel better, which had always been something that came naturally to him. When, after a few months of hell, he was pardoned, he had hoped she would be able to let go of the guilt, but every time he came home from a job interview, turned down once again because of his criminal record, she would turn away from him with self-loathing in her eyes, causing his own heart to clench at the pain he was causing her. After a while, he had even stopped trying to get a job, simply because he couldn't stand her gut-wrenching disappointment when the inevitable rejection came.

The gnawing feeling of helplessness had triggered an inexplicable anger in him, and he had taken it out on her, simply because she was the one who knew him best. He had always done that; he remembers the earlier hours of the day he was arrested, how she had snapped at her the whole time because Chapelle had been pissing him off, because Wayne Palmer was on his back, because they had failed to intercept the virus in Mexico… and he had used her declaring him unwell to do his job as an excuse to be able to vent his frustration at her. As he looks back now, he hates that he spent the last day of their 'happy life' together as he calls it, giving her such a hard time.

As he lets his mind wander back, he marvels at her ability to say so much with so little words. He remembers when he was shot, how he had woken up in the hospital still groggy from all the pain-killers to find her gracefully gliding through the door, but with an urgency he wasn't used to from her. She gently greeted him, bent over to kiss him, and hovered over him for a minute, and he could feel the tremors in her body. And when he asked her how she was doing, she had pulled back a little to look at him, and told him, "You scared the hell outta me." And with that short little sentence, he had known how afraid she had been for him, and how hard she had fought to keep the tears away in order to hide it.

It was the same when he had been released from prison. The doors had opened and he had found her standing there with Jack, and he just sort of stumbled into her arms. Too many emotions were coursing through him to be able to do anything but cling to her and allow her to hang on to him in return, but after a couple of minutes he found his voice and asked her, again, how she was doing. And she had just said, her voice teary and still muffled into his shoulder, "Tony, thank God you're coming home." And, again, he became so painfully aware of the hell she'd gone through in his absence.

But it wasn't as if their lives had been all about pain and terrorists and duty. She'd always had a great sense of fun in her, which his something he misses when he looks at her now, wondering who the person is that she turned into after her departure. He will always love her, no matter what happens between them, but he can't help but feel a pang as he sees her now, eyes cold and emotionless, but with a hidden pain in them that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his life. Was this what he had done to her? Had he really caused the playful, laughing woman who had loved teasing him, become so distrusting, so different from who she had once been that even he had trouble recognizing her?

Finally he allows himself to remember the day she left. He had come home in the early hours, knowing that she wouldn't be happy for the mere fact that he hadn't been home in three days. He had squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and prepared himself for the fight that he felt sure was going to come. But this time she didn't come charging into the hall as soon as she had heard his key in lock, and for a moment he was relieved, forgetting that he had seen her car in the driveway and thinking she was still at work, which would grant him a few more hours to come up with excuses for his behavior. He clumsily made his way to the bedroom, where he planned on crashing for at least a while first. He was so tired he could hardly see straight. He spotted her on the exact same moment as he switched on the light, sitting on the bed, tears on her face, surrounded by packed bags. He had been too flustered and too much in denial to let himself realize what was about to happen, and had simply asked her why she was crying. She looked at him and he could see so many emotions soaring in her eyes; relief that he had come back safely, anger that he had gone in the first place, pain at seeing him in such a state, love for him that made his heart hold on to a pathetic hope that his sight was betraying him, but then, undeniably, dread for what she was about to do. She closed her eyes, as if wanting to protect herself from his ability to always see through her, no matter what shape he is in. She slowly got up, picked up the bags and finally turned to face him. She told him she had wanted to wait until he was home so she could tell him herself.

­"Tell me what?" he had asked, still refusing to anticipate the obvious.

That's when she had become angry, nearly throwing her purse at him in blind fury. She started to shout, but after a few seconds got too overwhelmed by her own emotions so she stopped, closing her eyes and shaking her head. He wanted to put his arms around her, like he had so easily done in that dark hallway at CTU all those years ago. He just wanted to take away her pain, that was all he had ever wanted to do, but he didn't know how to anymore, and he had a strong feeling she wouldn't allow him to anyways.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, her voice hoarse and heavy with sorrow, and with that, she brushed passed him, refusing to meets his eyes, walking out of the room and his life forever.

Jen came into his life just a few weeks later, the day he'd found the divorce papers in the mail. Like on that morning that she had left, he'd headed straight for the bar, so he wouldn't have to finally accept the fact that she was never coming back. Jen had been working there ever since he could remember, and had certainly made it clear to him that she liked him, but he had never showed her the slightest bit ofinterest. Once, when he felt she was going too far with her passes at him, he'd even shoved her aside, snapping, "I'm married, and I love her." The words hurt him, suddenly reminding him of the year before, when he'd been sitting in on the subway minding his own business, when a young woman sat down next to him and spent the next few minutes smiling at him, clearly with intentions. When after a while, she subtly brushed her hand against his knee, he had abruptly got up, telling her loudly so the whole wagon could hear, "I'm married, and we're happy." And now, even in a reflex, he had automatically and instinctively known that they were no longer even close to happy, and hadn't been able to use it in his defence.

The night of the divorce papers, though, Jen appeared to have sensed his need to spill his guts and coaxed the truth out of him. After a while, he finally opened up and told her his wife had left. He told her how he had jeopardized the country's well-being for her, willingly gone to prison for her, and now she was gone and meant it. That moment was the closest he ever came to hating her.

Jen was sympathetic to his complaints, siding wholly with him, which comforted him as much as the circumstances would allow it. "Yeah," she said, when he said he couldn't believe that Michelle would do that to him, "She sounds like a real bitch."

And before he knew what he was doing, her had her pinned against the wall by her arms, his military instincts apparently less far away than he thought. He'd never laid a hand on a woman before in his life except occasionally during interrogation, and yet he couldn't help himself from hissing, "Don't you ever say that again, you understand?" and gripping her arms a little tighter before letting go.

He supposes it wasn't the first time Jen was confronted with this kind of behaviour from men, because when he awkwardly apologized the next day, she graciously accepted and seemed more than ready to forgive him. A month later, he was already living with her. He couldn't live in the house that he had shared with Michelle anymore- it brought back way too many memories of happier times- and moved in with Jen in a pathetic attempt to start a new life, away from everything he had always known. Now, as bad as it makes him feel towards Jen, he can't for the life of him remember why this would ever appeal to him.

He is roused from his thoughts by the familiar clicking of high-heels that he would recognize anywhere, and turns to find her standing almost next to him. She had loosened up a little since she arrived, but he knows her well enough to still sense a certain wariness in her, despite the fact that he realizes she does trust him to at least do his job right. She asks him to bring some new manpower from Division up to speed, and although those people have always annoyed him, he agrees, knowing it has to be done and not wanting to give her any trouble.

He can't get used to the straight hair, no matter how long she's been here, and knows he probably never will. All it does is remind him that things have changed radically since the time when she had allowed him to push the curls out of her face, him not being able to resist brushing his thumb against her cheek in the process; a time when he had woken up to her every single morning, feet entwined, to find her snuggling up closer to him, enabling him to kiss her hair good morning; a time when she had called him 'sweetheart', the word rolling from her lips like it was to most natural things in the world to her.

And suddenly, he feels sick with yearning, with regret, the emotions spreading across his chest rapidly, making it hard for him to even breathe properly. He doesn't know if he can survive parting with her again when this nightmare of a day is over; he doesn't know if he can go back to Jen after being so brutally reminded of his life with Michelle and the light-hearted happiness with which he had once succesfully tackled each day, oneat a time.

He thinks back to the day that he asked her to marry him. He'd gotten down on one knee and held up the ring for her and everything; he was only planning on getting married once and wanted to get the whole thing right, including the proposal. And she'd gasped in delight and disbelief, completely forgetting her insistence that she didn't like surprises, despite the fact that he knew better.

"Michelle, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Those had been his exact words, and he marvels now at how easily he had once been able to express himself. He barely remembers what it feels like to talk about his feelings; it's hard to believe he ever could. It was a goddamn miracle Michelle had gotten him to do it in the first place; he's had the tendency to internalize things since he was a boy. But he had done it for her, because she had made it all seem so natural, so easy.

He wants to do what he should have done months ago. He wants to beg, plead with her to come back to him, tell her that he loves her, that he's sorry, that he will pull himself together. He wants to feel her body against his, wants to be allowed to touch her again, to be able to look at her without feeling lightning bolts of painshoot through himat the thoughtthat she isn't his to love anymore. He doesn't know if it's fair to want her back, to ask her to forgive him for everything he put her through.

Because there is one thing that complicates it all even more. He knows he can't keep doing this- can't keep doing a job that had ruined him once and undoubtedly wouldn't fail to do it again. A person can only live through so much, and both he and Michelle have had more than a fair share of pain and terror over the years because of it. And he knows one thing... If she can ever find it in her heart to forgive him and come back to him, he swears to himself that he will never allow anything to come between them ever again, and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. He remembers the last time he made himself that promise- it was just seconds after she had called him to tell him she was immune to the virus. And just twenty minutes later, he received that anguishing call where a cold voice would inform him of how close he was to losing her yet again, and that he was the only one in the world who could do anything at all to help her .

He knows he can never go through that again; he still panics at the thought of anything happening to her, despite the fact that before today he hadn't seen herin six months. Still, there hadn't been a day that had gone by without him hoping to God that she was taking care of herself, protecting herself from the horrors she saw others endure every day. He was no longer there to do it for her.

Would she be willing to leave all this for him? He knows he hardly deserves it, but surely she remembers how happy they once were? Surely his drinking hasn't made her forget all that? Sometimes he is convinced that she has repressed it all, but then he sees a trace of the vulnerability in her eyes that he fell in love with, the vulnerability he knows that no one else sees in her anymore. And then he knows that deep down she's in there, his Michelle, under the straight hair and the unfamiliar business suit. He just doesn't know if he has the strength to find her again, and perhaps even more importantly, let her find him.