And there she was, coming closer and closer, walking back into his life without so much as a minute's warning.

She was wearing an outfit he didn't recognize; brown skirt and jacket with a white blouse underneath… since when did Michelle wear brown?

And her hair was straight. Somehow that made the ache caused by just laying eyes on her again even more painful. He clenched and unclenched a fist as memories of the many, so many times he had wound one of her curls around his finger or tucked one behind her ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world crowded themselves into his mind against his will. The fact that her curls were gone just reinforced the knowledge that he would never get to do those things again, and he suddenly felt his eyes begin to sting and cursed himself and her for ruining the best day he had had since… well, since the day he'd been released from prison.

That hadn't been a perfect day, by all means -- in fact it was probably already on that day that things with Michelle had started on the road which had led to their current situation -- but he had finally been free. He remembered feeling a kind of numb relief, and Michelle smiling at him and him smiling back.

And now she was standing in front of him, so close he could almost smell her perfume, and she was introducing herself to Heller, turning around…

"Hello, Tony."
 

He was on the couch when she got home, watching TV and drinking his third beer since he'd gotten back. He didn't turn around when he heard the door open, nor when her footsteps echoed in the hall and then stopped in the doorway.

"Why aren't you at work?" She was trying to sound casual, but there was already a hint of accusation in her voice.

He shrugged and drank some more beer.

"You got fired again, didn't you." The edge in her voice grew sharper.

He didn't react. He heard her sigh, and the sound of fabric rustling as she threw her arms in the air.

"I can't take this anymore, Tony. I just can't." A pause, and another sigh, before: "I'm leaving."

His hand stopped on its way to back his mouth. Had she just said what he thought she'd said?

It took his brain a moment to process this information enough to make him finally look at her.

She was already storming up the stairs.

He sat there staring, trying as hard as he could to kick-start his synapses into doing something constructive. Eventually he reached the decision to follow her.
 

"Hey," Tony said curtly.

"Are you two gonna have a problem working together?" The Defense Secretary asked. "Because if you are, I need to know right now."

"No," Michelle said quickly. "We'll be fine. If we could just have a moment alone before we get started…?"

Heller scrutinized the two of them thoughtfully. "Your office is right up there," he said finally, and walked off.

She looked at Tony. Come on, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat when she saw the way he was glaring at her. Instead she cleared her throat and walked towards the stairs, hoping he wouldn't be so stubborn as to refuse to follow.

She climbed the staircase and entered the office -- her office now, she had to remind herself, not Tony's -- and was relieved to find that Tony filed in behind her, albeit reluctantly.

The door fell shut behind him and she suddenly forgot everything that she had been going to say to him.

They looked at each other uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

"How've you been?" she asked eventually. It was the first even vaguely coherent thing that came to mind, and she regretted it instantly.

Tony shrugged. "Today? Not bad. Apart from that, living hell."

She swallowed and looked at the floor. That had been quite possibly the worst thing she could ask. Mentally she kicked herself repeatedly.

There was another silence. Tony obviously wasn't going to say anything unless he had to, so she decided to try again. More direct, this time.

"Tony, you've obviously impressed Secretary Heller, so I'm willing to give you a chance. But if you put one toe out of line, you're gone. No discussion." The speech she had tried to prepare in the car was coming back to her now.

"So you don't trust me, huh."

"Frankly, no. How much have you had to drink today, Tony?"

Tony laughed bitterly. "Does it matter? I've been doing fine. No, actually, better than fine; I've been doing great! But you just had to come in and push me back down, didn't you Michelle? The one day that I haven't spent most of having to try not to think about you, and you have to waltz back in like it's your duty to ruin it."

Michelle sighed. "Look, Tony, I know you were a good director." She fixed him with what she hoped was a calm and collected stare, but which she knew would more likely seem icy and cold. "But you were also a good husband."

She had hurt him, she could tell by the look in his eyes, the way he was scratching his neck, but she ploughed on. "I'm just not sure I can trust you here anymore."

He shrugged. "Fine. I'll go then." He turned to leave.

"No, Tony…"

He stopped, but kept his back to her.

She sighed again. "I will give you a chance. But you have to promise you'll at least try to be civil towards me. We can't let our personal life interfere with things here."

Tony turned to face her. Finally he nodded. "Alright."

Michelle smiled with relief.

"Just one thing, before we start 'being civil'," Tony continued. He stepped closer to her. "I may not have been the perfect husband over these last few months, but they were just months, Michelle, out of what was supposed to be a lifetime. What happened to 'for better or worse' or 'til death do us part', huh? I'll never forgive you for giving up on me so fast, right when I needed you the most."

And he turned right back around and walked out of the office, leaving her reeling with the ache she suddenly felt in her heart.
 

She was packing her work clothes when he finally appeared in the doorway. She folded them carefully despite her angry haste, stowing them neatly into the suitcase which lay open on the bed as she waited for him to break the silence.

"Don't go," he said finally.

"Why not?"

"I… I need you."

"For what? To make the money you drink away in front of the TV?"

"No…"

"What, then?"

"I…" He looked around, shrugging, floundering.

"Call me when you figure it out."

She snapped the suitcase shut.
 

Almost five hours now of working with Michelle, and still the tension between them kept rising. He was sure everyone had noticed it by now, despite the attempts made by both of them not to let it interfere with anything, to hide it at all costs.

But they had been glaring at each other every time their eyes happened to meet, snapping at each other because of the smallest disagreements, deliberately avoiding each other whenever possible, standing on opposite sides of desks when they were both needed there, sitting at the other end of the table from each other during briefings.

Now, after yet another disagreement which had so very nearly turned into a shouting match, he found himself seeking refuge in the break room, leaning against the counter and drinking coffee from one of those plain CTU mugs he had always hated so much.

The respite didn't last long, however. Michelle poked her head through the doorway, saw him and walked in, pulling the door closed behind her.

She sighed, staring at the door handle. "This really isn't working," she said, and the apologetic tone in her voice told him what was coming next.

There was a pause before she said: "Jack told me about your conversation earlier."

Tony's head snapped up. That was not what he was expecting. Jack had done what?!

"My God, Tony," She looked up at him, and he could tell that she was fighting not to let her voice break. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?"

He stared back, trying to muster up the will to be angry with her again, but it just wouldn't come.

She walked over to him, and he felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting. He shook his head. "I just… I didn't want to think about it anymore. Ever again."

She surprised him by putting her arms around him. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, hesitantly, he returned the hug. "Yeah. Me too."
 

The divorce papers  in the mail were a shock.

She really meant it.

But by now he had become too much of a pessimist to even try to do anything about it.

He signed, and drank until he passed out.
 

The doorbell rang, and she went to answer apprehensively.

What if this was just another stupid mistake? What if they just ended up shouting at each other again? Did they really still have a chance?

She found Tony standing in front of her door looking as scared as she felt.

Somehow that made her feel a little better.

Then he scratched his neck, and she couldn't help but smile affectionately.

He cooked the food he had asked if it was okay to bring, and refused politely when she thoughtlessly offered him wine.

They talked and ate and talked some more, long into the night, until they finally fell asleep, still sitting next to each other on the couch.

When they awoke they found that they were holding hands.
 

The End