"We could use one another.
Another like you."
-Foo Fighters, Low.

Michelle never wanted to be one of those women. The kind that needed alcohol to dull pain.

Ten years. Her husband, the most important person in her life, the person she'd planned on spending the rest of her life with, was going to be in jail for the next ten years.

She didn't want to be the kind of woman who cried in a court room either.

So, she was stoic - looking down briefly when the sentence was announced.

Tony was tried and convicted before Christmas. In four months she'd gone from wife of the next assistant head of Homeland Security to prison widow. The details of his treason, it was decided, were probably better for the public to never know. She went along with it - still trying to assuage her own guilt at living.

It was the first week of January and she couldn't imagine how the next year could be any worse than the last.

He was going to be gone ten years and she'd barely been able to make it through the first two weeks.

She saw the next ten years of her life reflected in the glass of her desk.

The pride and honor she felt at being the first female head of CTU was overshadowed by the knowledge that she'd give up the job in an instant if it meant she could wake up next to Tony tomorrow.

She was sitting in the office pretending to work, watching everything and nothing when an idea occurred to her.

Somehow she'd forgotten, had been too wrapped up in everything else but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Exiting Presidents always gave last minute pardons.

There were many historical precedents for Presidents freeing people from jail on their last day that otherwise would never be considered. It was one of those chances. A final fuck you to whoever was coming into office later and the President's last opportunity to set right whatever had gone wrong.

Keeler was coming into office in a week.

Michelle had to move fast. Usually, a federal agent wouldn't have a chance of getting the ear of the President. The pardons were for wrongly accused drug dealers and big contributors.

However, Michelle knew Palmer's favorite federal agent.

Except, Jack was undercover, again.

It was too dangerous to call and ask him for the favor. It was probably suicidal to visit him but if there was even a chance it could save her husband...she really had no choice.

This was how Michelle wound up standing in front of a motel door at 2 am, hoping she wasn’t recognized.

She'd smoothed down her curly hair and wore a heavy coat. There was no surveillance, she'd checked before hand.

She probably should have told someone her plan but they would have tried to talk her out of it.

She knocked softly and when he answered the door she immediately regretted her decision.

Jack held a bottle of tequila in his hand and there was a blue-black mark on his face and a distant look in his eyes. He blinked, confused and then grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he whispered when she was safely behind the door.

"I'm sorry, I know how unprofessional this is," Michelle started, taking off her jacket and draping it over one of the chairs, making it immediately harder for him to throw her out.

"Yes. It is. I could be watched. We could both be dead now."

"No one's watching the motel. Not even CTU."

Jack looked up unconcerned, "Well, that makes me feel safe."

Michelle paused for a moment, "With all the moles and security leaks..."

Jack took a sip from the bottle in his hand. "No, I asked them to leave me alone on this one."

Michelle felt her eyes widen and subconsciously took a step backwards.

"It's just, as you said, safer. But I don't think you're here to tell me what the CTU handbook has to say about undercover ops."

"I need to ask you for a favor." Michelle said, keeping her voice level and strong.

Jack looked at her, which told Michelle he was listening.

"I need you to ask President Palmer to pardon..."

Jack shook his head sharply and his voice expressed something like regret. "Don't you think I tried that? With all the scandal that surrounds his last week and the events of September and the upcoming criminal investigations, the President felt that would look too suspicious."

Michelle took a step forward. "Suspicious? He pardoned his brother fast enough!"

Jack took another sip and sat on the edge of the bed. "Different situation."

Michelle wasn't expecting this news. Unconsciously, she'd lived with this hope for weeks.

"It's not fair..." She started, but hated that sound in her voice.

"CTU has strict..."

"If Saunders had Kim, would you've let him go?"

He was silent, looking at her from the bed and then glancing down at the floor. "I've asked myself that question and honestly? Yes, of course. I can't blame Tony for his actions, but it could have ended really badly."

"You'd have done the same thing. You have done the same thing and never paid any price." Bitterness slipped into her voice.

He glanced up, all pretense of calm exterior gone. "You don't think this is a price?"

She breathed out. "My husband is in federal prison for the next ten years because he put my life above others and I know you did almost the exact same thing and got a slap on the wrist. So no, I don't think ---"

"It was different."

"Sure, because you had Palmer to bail you out."

"Michelle---"

"Just how hard did you try, Jack? Did you try like you would have for Kim or Chase? I know you were willing to let me die and if you knew of the deal beforehand probably would have let Saunders kill me. Because, after all, we're all expendable to you, aren't we?"

She was talking now, but not entirely conscious of her words. Not realizing that she had this much anger stored up towards him.

"Nina might have known where Saunders was or information about him. Lives could have been saved but you just had to kill her, and last time I checked murder was a crime. So, tell me Jack, why don't you pay any price? Why is my husband in jail, why does Chase have only a half-functional hand? Why do you get different rules?"

He looked at her and took another swig from the bottle as if she was giving him a boring speech or something easily ignored.

"Are you really undercover or did you just want to disappear for a few weeks?"

Jack placed the bottle on the ground, stood up, and walked towards her. "What the fuck are you implying?" He had a dangerous undertone to his voice.

She'd gone too far, had found some kind of button and pushed it and now she didn't know what to do.

She looked up as he came toward her, suddenly seeing him not as a federal agent, a coworker or a father but as a man to be feared.

Michelle refused to move, even though she was scared. The man in front of her really was capable of anything. These were the eyes of the man who killed Nina and Ryan, tortured without hesitation, threatened to kill a nineteen year old woman to save others, cut off his own partner's hand and was willing to let her die.

The anger and frustration began to slip away until only exhaustion remained and she wondered if he was also sick of it all. The same fights. The same endless outcome.

"I didn't come here to fight," she said softly. "I just needed to try..."

He visibly softened in front of her and when he looked back up seemed different. "I know and I'm sorry I couldn't help you or him."

She nodded and suddenly wanted to run off to Chicago, maybe open a bar and watch Cubs games until it was time for Tony to be released.

"You make plans. You find the perfect person and start planning out a life with them and then three years later they're ripped away and you're completely helpless," she half-said to herself.

"It's no easier when it's been sixteen years," Jack said quietly. "Any time is too soon."

"You know, I've never really liked you," Michelle admitted.

He half-smirked at that statement.

After all, when she started he was a cautionary tale. People knew not to push him unless they liked being hurt. Yet, earlier, he was purposely antagonizing her and she wasn't sure why.

"I'm sick of feeling this way," she whispered.

Michelle had said 'I'll wait for you’ but Tony had only squeezed her hand and said, ‘I only want you to be happy’. And standing there in a cheap motel room, she felt her last glimmer of hope die, and, to her horror, felt tears sliding down her face and in the middle of everything couldn't hold them back.

She was embarrassed and when Jack touched her shoulder she almost jumped.

"Do you need a drink?" he asked in a rough whisper.

She nodded and let herself be led to the bed.

"Here," he said, handing her the bottle.

She drank and kept drinking until the numbness was replaced by weightlessness and all her broken hopes and demons seemed far away.

The world spun slightly and she couldn't breathe because she could only think 'I shouldn't be here,' and yet there she was and she thought that maybe she should go, but she could barely stand, let alone drive.

And she'd swallowed enough alcohol that placing her hand on Jack’s arm seemed like a good idea.

"Did that hurt?" she asked, tapping her fingertips against the tattoo on his inner forearm.

"I don't remember," he said. "I wasn't exactly sober when it happened."

She glanced up at the healing marks near his elbow. "Did the drugs help?" she asked softly.

He blinked. "Not really,"

"But you felt happier, right? There was a sense that things were..." Her hand was lightly stroking his arm and her eyes were closed.

"And I stopped sleeping and stopped eating and did things that I can't ever tell anyone about and getting off of them almost killed me." He forced her to look up at him.

"I just want to close my eyes without seeing the bodies," she whispered and put her arm around his neck. "You're the only one who knows how I feel."

And she heard his heart beating against her cheek and knew he wasn't as cold as he always pretended to be.

Then she leaned up and kissed him, surprising them both, and he kissed her back after a second, his hands moving to slide down her body.

She didn't know if it was wrong or right, but they were falling back onto the bed and the world tilted off its axis for a moment.

He was exploring her mouth with his tongue and she only wanted to feel and fuck. It wasn't about love or friendship. The only alternative was to feel nothing at all. And he was intoxicated enough that he didn't even think to stop, and she kept seeing blood every time she closed her eyes.

She remembered the first time she slept with Tony. How that was rushed and awkward and full of laughter and she had somehow forgotten to turn off her phone. So in the middle of it her best friend called to give this long and very detailed story about her gynecological appointment earlier that day and when Tony finally met her he was a little nervous.

"She's just open," Michelle had said in her friend's defense and Tony had laughed.

But Tony wasn't there and it wasn't his hands on her or his voice. And she bit her lip feeling Jack's muscles against her fingers and his surprisingly gentle and delicate hands were pushing up her skirt.

Tequila-scented breath whispered across her skin and she both inwardly squirmed and cringed. The haze of sharp and sudden lust had vanished. She opened her eyes and was jolted back to reality. She couldn't do this. They couldn't do this. 'Stop, stop, stop,' was an endless mantra in her head even as she pulled Jack tighter against her body. At the feel of his fingers against her inner thighs, she forced herself to say "Stop!"

She pushed against his chest and there was a knock at the door.

He moved back away immediately, looking at her guiltily before turning his attention to the door.

"Andy!" a man's voice yelled.

"Fuck," Jack whispered and glanced over at Michelle.

Guilt was making it hard to think. 'I cheated on Tony with Jack Bauer,' she thought. 'Tony will never forgive me.' And it was hard to concentrate on what Jack was saying

"Michelle, you have to get out of here."

She nodded numbly, her voice not working, unable to move.

"Andy! Are you there?"

Jack looked from her to the closed door and made a decision.

"Strip and get under the covers," he muttered.

"What?"

"If they come in here and find you like that, they'll be suspicious and ask questions that we can't afford to answer."

His eyes and voice were back to his default chilled setting.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, looking away as she pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. She knew exactly what he was talking about and why this was necessary, but didn't feel any more comfortable.

She curled up under the covers, her heart racing for an entirely different reason.

He grabbed his gun from the table and went to the door. A heavy set man and a thinner one entered the motel room. They both looked at her and she forced herself to not react.

"Oh, you've got company," the heavy set man said, eyeing her like a piece of meat.

"Shelly? Yeah, I guess you could call her that. C’mon, time to get dressed." Jack had slipped back into character and Michelle needed to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

She sat up, wrapping the thin blanket around herself and grabbed the clothes from the floor, walking quickly to the bathroom. She forced herself to dress and not go over everything in her head, focus on the task at hand and move on. She caught her reflection in the mirror and closed her eyes for a moment. All she had to do was get out of the bathroom and get to her car. Easy.

"Shelly?"

She knew she was taking too much time. Her fingers kept having trouble with the buttons and she knew everyone in the other room was carrying a gun. Finally, she was done and left the bathroom to find them all standing there. 'Come on Michelle, you can do this, just walk,' she thought, trying to ignore the way the world was just a little blurred. She picked up her jacket from the chair.

Jack stood by the door and she half-grabbed onto him for support and as it seemed to be the best way to avoid any questions.

"Andy," she said, letting him hold her for a moment and biting back a scream. How fucking stupid was she to get involved in something like this?

Jack just stared at her, trying to convey something in his expression, but she was too tired and worn to figure it out. "Call me when you're free," Michelle whispered seductively. She leaned forward to kiss him because she had this feeling that if she didn't make this look believable she would probably never get to leave and the thought of dying like this or being found with him was enough to make her do anything to escape.

The door opened and she was outside and the door closed. She resisted the urge to sink down to the ground and not move.

Luckily, she’d driven her car without the government plates. Her sedan was parked a few doors down but she'd had a lot to drink, enough that driving would be stupid.

Not, however, as stupid as staying and between the two she would take the less dangerous scenario.

Michelle put her keys in the ignition, looked up at the rear view mirror and spotted a red mark on her neck. She touched it gently with trembling fingers and felt the thin control she had on her emotions melt away.

'I'm so sorry baby,' she thought, 'So sorry.'

End.

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