1. When he was six, he noticed his abuela gazing sadly out the window in the living room. Not sure what to do, he padded over to the kitchen and found his mother cooking dinner. "Momma," he asked, climbing onto the stool at the counter, "why is Abuela always so sad during Christmas?"

"Your abuela just misses your abuelo, Tony."

"Is it because he died near Christmas?"

"Yeah, baby. It's because he died. When you love someone the way your abuela loved him, you start to depend on it and when it's gone, it's hard to live without that kind of love."

Tony frowned. "Like air."

"Exactly. Now, why don't you go cheer her up while I finish dinner?"

Tony snuck back into the living room and surprised his abuela with a hug, wrapping his tiny arms around her waist. "I love you, Abuela," he said, grinning up at her.

His abuela brushed her eyes and returned his hug, her face breaking into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I love you too, amorcito," she laughed, but Tony knew, it wasn't the same.

2. Tony doesn't remember everything about the first Cubs game he saw with his father. He can't remember the important stuff like whom the Cubs were playing, or what the score was, or how close to home plate they were sitting. Instead he remembers the little things like the rush of excitement he felt when his father announced that they'd be going to a game at Wrigley Field on their vacation to Chicago. He remembers the stiff new feel of the Cubs hat on his curly hair and the smell of fresh cut grass and peanuts. But most of all, he remembers his father sitting next to him, pointing out the finer nuances of the game and tolling the virtues of being a Cubs fan.

"It's hard to be a Cubs fan, Tony. Don't forget that, because the Cubs will let you down every so often. You'll go through some rough patches, especially when the odds are stacked up against you. Sometimes you'll be so angry, you'll want to scream at them for not bringing in a relief pitcher soon enough or something stupid like that. But you gotta remember that, eventually, they'll pull through for you. Because this is the greatest team on earth in the best stadium in the country playing the best damn game in the world. And they are worth it. There are some things that are worth all that pain. If it's worth loving, you gotta stick with it, thick or thin. That's what it means to be a Cubs fan."

Tony doesn't remember the little things like who won the game, but he remembers the really important stuff like joining in the collective sound of thousands of Cubs fans roaring and cursing in the stands at a bad call by the umpire. Because at that very moment, he knew, it was love.

3. "Soft eyes, amorcito, ok? When you fall in love, if it's right, you'll fall hard. So before you bring home a girl, make sure that she has soft eyes, ok?" she said.

Tony groaned, as his ears grew pink with embarrassment at having *this* conversation with his grandmother. "I’m gonna be in high school next year, Grams. I already know about girls," he grumbled. "Why do you and mom always have to tease me about it, anyway? I hate being the only boy in this family."

"Don’t use that tone of voice with me, young man," she said warningly. "You listen to your abuela."

Tony immediately straightened and looked down with what he hoped looked like a properly contrite face. "Sorry, Grams." He waited a few beats, before sneaking a look at his grandmother. She was struggling to keep the stern look, thankfully, so he knew she wasn’t really angry. Giving his best mega-watt smile, he decided to humor her. "So what does that mean, anyway, ‘soft eyes’?"

His grandmother reached out and stroked his cheek. "You’ll understand what I mean when you get older. Just remember to look for soft eyes. Soft eyes, soft heart to catch you when you fall."

"Whatever you say, Grams," he said, nodding his head. The moment passed, and his smiling grandmother was back, but really, he was just glad to have successfully diverted yet another lecture.

Years later, as they pried Jack off Nina and carted her away, Tony met the glint of her cold stare and for some reason, all he could hear beyond the dull buzzing in his head were his abuela's words echoing in the background. He should have listened to her more carefully.

4. The funny thing about kissing Michelle for the first time was that nothing between them really changed after they did. Of all the people at the office, she had been and still was the first person he would trust with vital information (and besides which, it wasn't like he wasn't already an open book to her apparently.) On the few occasions when Tony would start to reach the last strands of his patience with the department heads, Michelle was still the only one who could diffuse the tension with a quick compromise and, sometimes, a funny joke. And when the shit hit the fan, she was still the first person, if not the only person, to notice and ask him how he was doing. Of course, before they kissed, he told himself that all those things were just proof that he had formed a strong friendship in CTU, which was almost a miracle in and of itself in the wake of Nina's betrayal of CTU. And the step from friend to lover wasn't that huge, right? What did they say? Best friends make best lovers…

But he was surprised at how the little things didn't change much either. Now they were constantly in each other's space, sneaking glances and stealing moments when they couldn't help themselves. But they'd been flirting the line of intimacy long before they'd kissed. He'd leave a pen at her desk and not bother to go get it right away because it would only be a matter of time before he'd head over there with some news or she'd come over to his desk. When Luke had accidentally broken Michelle's coffee mug, she had used Tony's Cubby mug instead, without even blinking. On the late night research sessions when they'd all order Chinese food, he'd dig into her carton of egg rolls as he continued to bounce some ideas off her, and no one had said anything about it. All those things had happened months before he had even figured out that his feelings for her probably extended beyond the friendship they shared.

The funny thing about falling in love with Michelle was that he didn't really notice it until it had already happened. He never knew it could be this easy.

5. In the end (although it'd take a round of Johnson's needles before he'd admit it), it was his sister's glib bluntness that got him through the fragile reconciliation process.

"Things are great, we're getting back into that comfortable place. And yeah, there are times that she says something or I say something that still hurts too much, but things are great."

"But?"

"But...I can't stop thinking that maybe we'll wind up doing the same thing, that I'll do something to make her leave me again or she'll do something to make me push her away. And I'm trying to be so careful, but we just not there yet. And I don't know if we'll ever get to that point again."

"I can't believe I am wasting my minutes on this."

"Look, do you want to help me or not? Cause I can always call Maria or Mom or someone."

"Tony. Stop. Did you ever think that maybe you can't blame people for being so far away if you don't let them near you?"

"But I don't want to hurt her."

"Then stop being an idiot. You're doing the exact same thing you did before. You're keeping her out and pushing her away for her own sake."

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'OH.'"

"Hmm."

"Look, you wanted my advice, so here it is. You've already fallen in love with her once before, and it's not like you just stopped being in love with her when she left. You just got angry at her for leaving. And now you're together, and things are better, so why are you so freaked out about this? Just fall."

"What do you mean, 'just fall'?"

"I mean, stop over-thinking it and let things happen. Stop thinking about if it won't work and focus on what is working and go with that. Just let go. Fall in love."

"I am in love with her."

"Then fall in love again. And again. And again. Until you can't remember not falling in love with her everyday."

"Wow...You're a total sap, Carm."

"Shut up. I got it off that stupid sunscreen song. And you know I'm right. Now stop brooding and go make it up to Michelle for your near-suicidal altruism."

Two months later, Michelle woke up to find a velvet box containing a diamond ring sitting on her dresser. Next to it was a vase with sixty-one red roses and a list of sixty-one reasons why Tony had fallen in love with her. Again.




FIN




End note: amorcito is a Spanish term of endearment, abuela = grandmother, abuelo = grandfather. Just in case you didn't gather that from the context. And I borrowed the phrase "near suicidal altruism" from a friend who quoted someone she couldn't remember. I remember liking the phrase and thinking, "Hmm. That is so fitting for Jack. And Tony. And pretty much every good guy in 24. I should use that in a fic. And it'd make a cool band name." But I have no one to credit, so I give my thanks to the great unknown.

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