Take Me Back to Paradise, I Could Make the Sacrifice

Tony opens his eyes with a hoarse gasp, surprised to find himself in their bedroom. He rapidly turns his head from side to side, only to see Michelle, who is still asleep. His breaths shudder. He swears his eyes still sting from black smoke, his lungs are struggling to take in air, and the cotton of his shirt is sticking to the burn on his back from the gas tank blowing… But the only thing stinging his eyes are tears. The clean, linen smell of their bedroom is all he can detect. And, despite the warm weather, he feels perfectly ambient as he lies next to Michelle.

He was dreaming. That's the only conclusion he can draw, but for some reason, he can't quite believe it. He has had enough nightmares, often of the graphic variety, to be able to snap out of it and wake up. However, his senses still seem to be back in that horrible scenario of running out of their house to find Michelle's body covered in blood and ash. He tries to steady his breathing and focus on what he can sense as he tries to sit up. The waffle knit of the comforter beneath his fingertips. The birds chirping outside. The sunlight through the windows. It helps a little. But not enough.

Michelle must be able to hear him breathing heavily because she rolls over, her hand reaching out to graze his arm. "Hey..." she says softly, her voice thick from sleep. "Bad dream?"

Tony turns to look at her. She seems as real as ever. Her skin has some pallor and her eyes have dark circles beneath them from morning sickness, but nothing else out of the ordinary. The sensation of her skin against his certainly grounds him. He stares for a long time, trying to understand where he is and what has happened. He wants to put the dream out of his mind, but he can't, even as her reassuring eyes look back at him. She doesn't need to repeat the question because she can see that he is unable to speak and that a tear has rolled down his cheek. Michelle sits up and pulls him into her arms. He can't even bring himself to tell her what the dream was about; he feels like if he does, he is somehow tempting fate. He doesn't want to do that, no matter how silly it sounds. Michelle seems to know he won't talk about it because all she does is rub small circles on his back and tell him that it's okay. It makes him feel better, the nightmare mostly fading to the back of his mind, but there is a feeling in his gut that lingers.

"Do you want to go to the beach today?" she asks, pushing away a hair that has stuck to his face from sweat. "We've been busy this week. I think we need a break."

He furrows his brow a little. "We have that meeting."

She cups his cheeks and pulls back so she can look at him. "Sweetheart, that was yesterday. Are you sure you're okay?"

Tony takes a breath. "I'm fine. I promise," he says unconvincingly. "The beach is a good idea."

Michelle smiles. "Then let's have breakfast and get going before it gets too hot."

The rest of the morning is spent going through the motions. A creeping sense of dread builds in his stomach. No matter how much he tries to assure himself, the occasional noise or smell makes him pause. It is like the line between his dream and reality has blurred, and he can no longer tell the difference. But he feels better every time Michelle says his name or her fingers graze his. Tony is so distracted from mulling over this phenomenon that he cannot even appreciate all the tiny, perfect things that happen. There is no traffic when they get on the road. Every light is green. The travel time feels instantaneous. The wind is crisp but not too crisp. There is nobody on the beach. The sky and ocean are equally vibrant and clear. Even the palm trees are impossibly green. It is like paradise. No, actually, what makes it paradise is the fact that Michelle is here with him. They are both alive and well. They love each other. They are stronger than they have ever been. Everything is okay.

He does not recall getting dressed, so he is somewhat startled by his choice of a white shirt and faded denim jeans when he notices his reflection in the side of the car as they step out. Michelle is wearing a long white t-shirt over her shorts and bikini top. He can see the slight curve of her stomach, which makes him smile. She blushes at his scrutiny of her as they walk to the sand, giving him another thing to ground himself with. Then, there is a high-pitched beep. It is quiet; he can barely hear it over the sound of the wind and crashing waves. He hears it again. He has heard it intermittently all morning and cannot for the life of him figure out what it is.

"What?" Again, her voice seems to stabilise him, silencing the noise.

Tony shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of the images. "You're beautiful," he muses, walking towards her and snaking his hands around her waist. 

Michelle still notices he is not present in the moment because she meets his eyes and rests her hands on his shoulders. "Tony, what is it?" she asks gently.

"The dream just freaked me out. It's fine," he insists.

She purses her lips. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Tony debates it for a moment. He knows it will continue to make him feel worse if he does not get it off his chest, but he is still afraid to say it. It's not because he's worried about Michelle's judgement, but because it just doesn't feel right, like he is making a grave choice he cannot undo. The more he spirals about it, the more the tension in his body increases and the more worked up he gets.

Michelle goes to beseech him again, but he manages to answer this time, "I dreamt that I lost you." A lump sits in his throat. "You went to your car, something terrible happened, and I couldn't save you."

"Tony…" Michelle chides softly. She is not offended; she is just upset that he did not tell her in the morning when all they have done since getting back together is strive to be open with each other. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we left CTU. We're supposed to be done with that. And I'm…" He sighs. "I'm sick of it still controlling our lives. I want to move on."

"We have moved on," Michelle reminds him. "We're here. We're both here."

He wishes he could believe her, but he can't, and he hates that so much. He can't let go, but why? What is so different about this dream that he can't let go?

Michelle hugs him again fiercely, the way she did this morning. He squeezes her back as though the tighter he holds her, the more the dream will disappear from his consciousness for good. He buries his face in her hair, just needing to feel close to her on every level, and she understands that. She does not ask him for further details. She simply accepts that the fear of CTU taking everything from them is still something that feels real for him. And maybe she is hugging him like this because she feels it, too. Maybe she has not quite moved on from everything that has happened to them, either. He appreciates their improved ability to be vulnerable around each other so much. He knows many people go a lifetime without having anybody for them like this, and it makes him feel a pang of gratitude. He loves her. And he has her. She is safe. They are safe. He just needs to remind himself of that until he can truly accept it.

They eventually get in the water. Her suggestion that clothes are optional because nobody else is around perks him up a little. They have fun in a very blissful way. They are borderline childish as they splash each other, but he is so damn happy that he does not care. When was the last time he enjoyed something this much? He has never seen such a broad, genuine smile on her face, and vice versa, he is sure. This moment makes him realise how lucky he is to be here with her and how much time he has wasted worrying about things that ultimately did not matter. Of course, he does not mean the life-threatening catastrophes he dealt with working in defence for twelve years. But it is all the little things he has worried about. Most of all, the shame that prevented him from opening up to Michelle about prison and led to their divorce. He would do anything to get those months apart back. He is so hyperaware that time is precious and that he has taken advantage of it in the past. So, he makes the most of it until they tire and return to the shore.

She is in the middle of retying her bikini when she says his name in a way that makes his heart stop. He blinks, and her back is suddenly red, raw and peeling. Blood pours from a gash on the side of her head beneath her burnt and fizzled hair. When she turns around, every inch of her skin is covered in grazes and burns. Ash coats her face. She is terrified, but he soon realises it is not from her own condition but his. His cheek and neck sting from the prickling of the wind against broken skin. His back feels like it is on fire. His head throbs and makes everything spin.

"It wasn't a dream," he realises.

As the impending sense of doom hits him like a brick, he finds himself standing in CTU. Everything is too loud and too bright. It makes him want to scream. People rush around, not just agents but doctors, too. Someone is wheeled into the OR on a stretcher in front of him. His eyes widen when he recognises his own face beneath the large, bloodied bandage covering the site of a large burn. Bill stands there with Curtis worriedly. Tony calls out to them, but they do not respond. He is angry and impatient and feels like the world is crashing down, so he grabs Bill by the shoulder, only to find his hand passing straight through him. Nobody can see him. He is so fraught with panic that he neglects to ask himself where Michelle is until she appears behind him.

"Did… did you see yourself in the medical ward, too?" she asks.

He nods, and he is too occupied with shock to notice the little lip-bite she always does when she lies.

They somehow end up back at the beach in the white clothes they had on before. Their injuries are gone again.

"I… I remember now," Michelle says. "Something happened when I got in my car. It was after we found out David Palmer was assassinated and after we… argued about me going to CTU."

"It blew up," he informs her, his voice shaking. "I-I ran out to save you, but… you weren't moving. You had no pulse. Then… then the gas tank must have blown."

He is not sure who reaches for who first, but they both break down in tears, bombarded with the reality of his dream. It is not fair. After everything they have been through, it is not fair. He is so scared to think about the consequences. He doesn't want to think about why they are on an idyllic beach. If they are dying together, it is cruel, but… they will be together, and that will put his mind at ease. But, if it is only one of them… Oh, God. Tony tries to not let his mind run wild with possibilities. They know they are in CTU Medical and that a bomb probably went off in her car. That's all. They just have to wait it out until they learn more. It does not stop the tears from coming. It does not stop him from clinging to her. But he tells himself over and over again that he can't assume the worst yet when they do not have all the facts.

But Michelle isn't crying nearly as much as he is. She isn't overwhelmed with anxiety like him. She seems… oddly content. Melancholy, but content. It's like she knows something he doesn't. After he has calmed down a little, she says his name and tilts his head up so their eyes can meet. As he does so, he knows that something is very wrong.

"I… I lied to you before," she admits, her voice soft and apologetic. "When we were at CTU."

His eyes narrow. He is not quite sure, logically, what she means by this, but his gut is sinking even more.

It takes her a few tries before the words fall from her lips. "My body was covered with a sheet in the morgue, Tony. I wasn't with you."

"No," he whispers. "No, we'll find you. It's going to be fine. It's not-"

"Tony," she insists, forcing him to look at her, tearing up again. "Tony, I'm dead. You're not."

He hears himself scream. This cannot be right. They have not fought against all the odds to escape what was threatening their lives every day, only to meet the same fate. At the same time, it is like his mind and body are finally in sync. The awful feeling he has carried all day is now blatantly obvious as the onset of grief-induced shock. He has just been in denial until now, and understandably so, since Michelle has been by his side. He does not know how this is going to end. Is he just going to wake up in CTU Medical with no warning once his surgery is done? Assuming, of course, he comes out of it. In all honesty, he does not want to be optimistic here. He wants to stay with her. Will he have the chance to say goodbye? Will he remember any of this? Will he be able to preserve the memory of her, beautiful, unmarked, safe, happy? He feels his knees buckle like he is going to pass out, but he tries to force his eyes awake. He is not leaving. He is not leaving until he damn well says so.

Still, his head starts to hurt, and his muscles become weak. Michelle guides him to sit on the sand. She does not seem at all physically affected. Now that Tony is looking into his lap, he realises he has the blue shirt on that he wore when the car bomb went off. He is becoming a source of distinction in this all-pure, all-peaceful little world. He does not belong here. But she does. She is still perfectly fine. In fact, he can swear there is a slight glow around her body. It is almost angelic. As much as he wants to admire it, how breathtaking she is, his heart aches. His heart aches because he is about to lose her, and he can't take it. He won't take it. This is not happening. But it is happening. And he can't stop it. No matter how much he fights himself, he knows what's true.

Michelle's shoulders straighten a little, her eyes slightly wide. She is smiling weakly but wipes a tear from under her eyes. Before he can ask why, she takes one of his hands and places it on the curve of her belly. He feels a slight thump. It is not rhythmic like a heartbeat. It is almost like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He lets out a small, pathetic laugh, but it just makes him start crying again. The baby is kicking, which only cements to Tony that she is staying here. He will be the one to have to say goodbye to Michelle and their son. He will leave. He will leave and never come back, and he has never felt so much pain before in his life. The beeping from before is louder and louder. He can hear voices. Bill is one of them.

Tony is not sure how she knows that time is up, but she brings his lips to meet hers. He can taste the salt of her tears and the seawater. He kisses her back desperately, like the closer he is to her, the longer he will stay, but he can already feel things start to move around him. He does not have long, but he will make the most of every damn second he has left. Still, a part of him refuses this. A part of him, a very human, very vulnerable part of him, does not just want to stay but needs to. He does not know how to be without her. He hated every second of it last time, but now, there is no second chance. There is no hope that one day he will wake up beside her again. He is losing her for good, and he is not ready. He doesn't think he ever will be.

Something strong pulls him back from the middle of his chest like he's a puppet on strings, and he reaches out to grab her hand. "No. No, I'm not leaving you."

Michelle shakes her head. "Tony, you have to. You know you do."

He goes to protest one last time, but Michelle preempts this by placing a hand on his heart. "I'll be with you here. Always."

Everything goes black like it did when the bomb went off. When Tony opens his eyes, he sees the cold, sterile environment of CTU Medical. He does not remember much, but he does not need anybody to tell him what happened because he already knows, in the depths of his soul, that Michelle is gone.