geeky_agent | (no subject)

Current Mood: anxious

(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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

Her eyes open wider and she stares, trying to take in the information.

Chris's words paint a picture her brain won't let her imagine.

They shot him. Oh God, they shot him, but it was fast and it was quick and that - that's the best news I could have hoped for, but Tony, oh God, Tony.

For four of the strongest people she's ever met to be neutralized, for them to sit and watch --

The sound of her voice cuts through Michelle's sorrow, forcing her to realize, to remember, that other people didn't emerge unscathed.

"You saw it?"

Chris nods, wondering if she should have said anything. "We all did."

They made sure of it.

Her stomach drops as the news sinks in, images starting to form.

They all saw it. No one could stop it. I couldn't have stopped it. His - Tony - not an accident, not in a fight, they - they - executed him. And made everyone watch. Oh God. Oh God --

Chris's expression says it all.

She covers her mouth with her hand, unable to speak, tasting bile and then she's running to the bathroom, feeling the world spin and falls to her knees, unable to stop herself.

And it's not the first time.

Her eyes fill with tears as she dry-heaves, grabbing onto the toilet for support.

I'm so weak

It takes a moment before she realizes what's happening but when she does, she follows Michelle into the bathroom. Kneeling on the floor beside her, Chris holds Michelle's hair away from her face and rubs her upper back, hoping to soothe her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." her voice trails off, it doesn't matter. All her apologies couldn't change anything.

After a few minutes, she stops gagging and leans back against the shower door, trying to take a breath.

She's grateful for Chris being there, even if part of her is horribly embarassed that anyone other than her mom saw this moment. She brings her knees near her chest and gasps a sob; her muscles are still trembling from exertion.

"I wish I could skip this part."

Chris nods, not saying anything at the moment because what could she say? She didn't understand, not fully, she had grieved but that wasn't the same, she hadn't experience what Michelle had.

"Do you want some water?"

She nods slightly, holding her hand over her mouth.

Through her tears, she can see Chris's concerned expression but her friend feels very far away.

"All right," she whispers, rubbing Michelle's arm before she goes to the sink. She takes two of the Dixie cups, two because they're so small, and fills them with water.

Sitting down next to her again, Chris offers her one.

"Thank you," she says softly, holding onto the cup and lifting it to her lips.

The water helps her throat a little.

She breathes out, trying to calm her still upset stomach.

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"N-no," she says, blinking in surprise. "I could see if there's any ginger ale downstairs, if you want?"

Michelle glances at the water, wishing it was vodka.

"Stronger than that," she whispers.