geeky_agent | (no subject)

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(no subject)

March 27, 2006

It had been a long day by the time Chris reached Michelle's house. The night before she had barely slept and was beginning to forget what it was like to sleep for more than four or five hours a night.

She stalled at the bottom of the front steps, debating whether to stay or leave. I didn't call. It's not like they had been expecting me. After a long day at work, she barely the energy to go through with this.

But if she didn't do it now, then when?

With a sigh, Chris heads up the stairs and rings the door bell.

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Voice low and tone completely free of sarcasm, Chris answers, "Yes, ma'am."

There's tightening in her stomach as she walks up the stairs and Chris grips the bannister a little tighter. She's not entirely sure what to expect from this visit -- just because Michelle wants to talk to her doesn't mean she'll be happy to see her.

When she reaches the landing, she pauses at the door, hesitating before she taps on the door. "Michelle?"

Her voice is familiar and even through her grief, Michelle feels a little relieved.

"Come in," she doesn't even try to hide her sadness.

Chris enters the room, her heart breaking when she sees her friend wrapped up in a sweater that's too big for her and that lost look in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to say something and wavers for a moment. Finally, "I'm so sorry that I didn't come sooner."

Michelle looks down at the hem of the sweater and pulls at an invisible thread. As Chris speaks, her head snaps up and she sees the bruises and cuts on her friend's face.

A small part of her thinks she should be angry, should be jealous, should hate Chris for still having the man she loves while Tony -- but she's too numb to really feel and even now she knows those thoughts are unfair.

She covers her mouth with her hand and tries not to sob again, but Chris being there - whole - and the knowedge that Tony will never come home and she knows the hollow look in Chris's eyes, has seem them in her own mirror.

"Chris."

There's a slight nod and Chris glances away, tears stinging her eyes. It's not fair. Tony not coming back and there is nothing that will ever make this right. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and reaches for Michelle's hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry --" That Tony didn't make it. That I did. that everything went so wrong.

Did he suffer? Was it fast? Was he afraid? Did he know he was going to die? Did he try to say goodbye?

"Tony - he - " She holds onto Chris's hand tightly, unable to ask any of her questions out loud.

"Was he there?"

"Was he --" Chris doesn't finish the question, she knows what Michelle is asking. Her mouth tightens into a thin line as if that'll keep the words from spilling out.

"No."

She almost hates herself for what she does next, saying things she can't promise but wants to believe. "But his... his body was still there. For the wake. So maybe afterwards...?"

"There was a wake?" She almost sobs the words, unable to stop herself.

I missed it. I should have been there. But his body, haven't seen his body, no body means he's still alive. No body means I'm not alone. He has to go to Milliways, he promised - he promised.

Still holding Michelle's hand, Chris reaches out to rub her shoulder. Her mind races with what she should say.

"Yeah...Almost a week had passed. My dad thought that they should do something... So many people care about Tony -- they asked about him and you."

She nods slowly. "I know he really cared - " her voice cuts off at the use of past tense and she's silent trying to regain some kind of composure. "My mom is making all of the funeral arrangements. She - she asked me if there was going to - if we were going to get...," she looks up at her friend. "I should have been with him."

The thought of Michelle seeing Tony's death chills her and she numbly shakes her head, not speaking just yet.

"It..." It happened too quickly. There was no time to do anything, even react.

"It's nice that your mother is here helping you. I was worried."

"Mom's good at this," she mutters. "She's sort of moved in and taken over. I...want to be alone but I can't," her voice breaks on the last word, she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of the sweater.

"People tend to either hover around you or stay away at times like these," she murmurs quietly.

Somehow, despite her mother's managing of the situation, Michelle being alone seemed like the worse option of the two.

"I asked her to stay," she admits. "I...know I'm not thinking clearly. I felt this...I want to be with him. I look into the future and I see nothing."

She almost laughs, "I'm so weak."

"That's not weak." She feels like she should say something more, tell her the future isn't so bleak, things will get easier with time. Everything that comes to mind seems trite and empty though, how could she promise Michelle anything?

"Have you eaten anything today?" she asks, partly to say something and partly because she knew how easy it could be to forget to eat at times like this.

"It's worse than weak, after what he, and what it would do to my parents...it's selfish," she looks away, at the dresser, letting herself think about it again.

"Did my Mom tell you to ask that?"

She stills at that first comment, not showing much emotion on her face other than worry. Silently, she's thanking God that Chloe called Michelle's mom.

"No, she didn't." She'll take that as a 'no' to her question. "I just know that when I'm upset I don't always remember to eat."

"Thinking about food makes me feel like I'm going to be sick," she smiles without mirth. "When I was younger I used to eat when I was upset. I guess everything changes."

"Maybe later you can try something light, like soup," she suggests, giving her hand a small squeeze.

And she falls quiet again, trying to work up the courage to ask this next question.

"How much did Chloe tell you?"

Michelle nods, but more to drop the subject than actual agreement.

She pulls the sleeve of the sweater over her hand, picking at a stray piece of fluff.

"I didn't let her say much."

She nods, remaining silent, unsure if Michelle wants to know more and dreading telling her if she does. Chris figures if she wants to know, she'll ask.

She's silent too.

I want to know. I don't want to know. I should know, I need to know if he was hurt, if they hurt him, if it was fast, but if I say it out loud, if I say it to her, Tony will be really gone.

"Was it fast?"

She nods, looking up to meet Michelle's eyes, the smell of ammonia sharp in her memory.

"It was."

"What happened when Chloe lost contact with you?" She forces herself to ask, trying to sound like a former CTU agent. For so long she relied on her ability to focus, to see things objectively, but now she feels in freefall.

"We were surrounded. Uh, they tasered me. I wouldn't drop my gun." She rubs her neck absently.

"Then they took us to another room. Jack, Tony, Chase and I. Another man - one of the interrogators - he, uh, walked in and he, he just shot Tony." Her voice breaks on the last words and her throat feels tighter.

She swallows the lump in her throat, her voice a little hoarse when she speaks again. "I, uh, I don't remember what happened after that."

But she does. Now, Chris remembers what happened to her coat, something she had wondered during the cold nights in the mine. She'd become sick after that and can remember the bitter taste of bile in her mouth. The guards stripped her of it and she could barely move.

"After that I was in my room."