Michelle opened her eyes to a bleak, concrete-laden room, illuminated only by mid-morning LA sunshine through bare windows. She was sitting in a rigid chair, her arms felt heavy by her sides. As she moved, the faint sound of metal tinkling filled the otherwise silent air. Instinctively trying to lift her hands and stretch, she was halted by the sensation of cold steel against her slim wrists. Handcuffs, she concluded. Michelle felt herself exhale through her nose, and smelt plastic. Her cheeks felt tight, like something was keeping them suspended in place. She could barely poke her tongue out, but knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a strip of duct tape around her mouth. Michelle was facing a sturdy, presumably locked door, with a small pane of glass that indicated the presence of a guard just outside in the hallway. Then she realised where she was.
Michelle had been captured by Stephen Saunders on her way to NHS for observation. She hoped to God that someone would find where she was so they could rescue her. Suddenly, she heard footsteps pounding, escalating in volume as they neared the top of the stairwell, followed by a muffled gunshot. The silhouette outside the door fell, as a new one, a frantic Tony Almeida to be precise, replaced it. He grunted as he shoved against the heavy door with his body weight, opening it.
She felt herself sigh with relief, her grin hidden beneath the silver strip, as he ran towards her.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here.” Tony bent to slice the chain of her handcuffs in half with a small knife, as the small metal loops chimed against the solid floor. He carefully peeled the tape off her face. She winced as every hair was pulled with it. Her face was tender and red, but otherwise happy. Michelle took his hand, as he helped her to her feet, dusting herself off, and finding balance before they ran out the door together, their grip on each other never breaking. They had gone down two flights of stairs, Tony not checking for guards, which Michelle assumed was because he’d taken them out. He halted, his shoes squeaking against the cold floor, as Tony placed a warning hand to Michelle’s chest, keeping her pressed against the wall.
“The only way out is the stairwell, they can’t have gotten far, find them!” Michelle recognised Saunders’ commanding voice, followed by the sounds of guns clicking and thundering footsteps. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, as Tony covertly stuck his head out to inspect the adjacent corridor.
He exhaled, still out of breath from the bolting adrenaline. “I think we’re clear, but we’d better be quiet, just follow my lead.” Tony turned to look at her, as she nodded in agreement. Michelle’s eyes widened and she let out a scream as she noticed a tall figure grab Tony’s face before jamming a needle filled with a chartreuse liquid into his neck. His groan of pain was muffled by the brawny hand gripping his jaw. Tony’s attempts to elbow his attacker in the rib were fruitless. Before she could try to reach for the attacker, Michelle felt a damp cloth against her mouth from behind, as a sweet stench rose through her airways. Her vision blurred as she swayed before feeling the uneven thud of the staircase behind her legs. The last thing she saw was Tony’s eyelids flutter shut, as he fainted into the arms of the man holding him.
Her eyes opened again, as she heard her heavy breaths take in the oxygen her body had since missed. She was back in the cell, only this time sitting on the floor in the corner, a new pair of handcuffs binding her wrists, in addition to a pair around her ankles. The shackles around her feet were also anchored to the wall behind her. Michelle felt dizzy as she came to, her head pounding, muscles sore. The room looked the same otherwise, but with one exception. Tony lay, unconscious and uncomfortable, on the floor at the opposite corner, secured to the same extent as she was. Michelle struggled in her restraints and attempted to yell his name, but to no avail. He squirmed on the floor as his eyes opened, panicking as he strove to manoeuvre himself into an upright position. His eyebrows rose as he noticed his wife at the other end of the room. But before he could try calling out to her, Tony pressed his fingers beneath his nose, as deep blood trickled from his nostrils.
Michelle’s heart stopped. The Cordilla virus. He was injected with the Cordilla virus. This can’t be happening. Fear set in, as she realised he was going to die.
Saunders, followed by two guards, all donning Hazmat suits, slammed the door open and strode confidently into the middle of the room, just out of reach of his two hostages. His voice was dampened by the thickness of his suit, but Michelle heard him loud and clear.
“Shame you two can’t die together, but don’t worry, after you enjoy watching the last eight hours of your husband’s life, maybe I’ll give you the chance to join him.” Saunders laughed cruelly as he left the room.
The couple protested, grappling their respective security measures. Michelle placed her head between her knees as she respired heavily through her nose, warm tears streaming from her eyes. She cried silently, not wanting Tony to see her. But he was too distracted by the profuse quantities of blood pouring from his nose. Crimson circles stained his brown crew-neck, as the droplets poured over the duct tape and down his neck. Michelle had watched Gael, and nearly every other guest at the Chandler Plaza Hotel suffer this exact process, this exact pain. But watching Tony helplessly try to stop his bleeding, seeing the trepidation in his watering eyes, broke her heart in half.
So as Saunders stated, for the next eight hours, she watched him die. Tony Almeida, the love of her life, die. Die from the disease they had both spent all day trying to contain. Every silent minute felt excruciatingly arduous. After some time, the nose bleed subsided, but Michelle knew from the NHS debriefing that his organs were haemorrhaging. She silently hoped that he would die from pain or shock soon, that his incessant suffering would end, but experience told her that would not be the case. Michelle debated on looking at Tony. It made her nauseous to watch him like this, but at this point, the only person left in his life was her. Michelle couldn’t do that, turn away from him in his final moments. Besides, even if she didn’t want to look at him, his phlegmy coughing fits were distressing enough. Glancing at his hands and face, she could see the pus-filled boils slowly rise, just like they had across Gael’s cheek. He grimaced in pain as he tried to deter the itching sensation but eventually gave up.
The sun had slowly begun to set, as a warning that his time would be up soon. By now, Tony’s neck was coated in the crusty brown of his dried blood, his eyes bloodshot. Blisters coated his entire right hand and most of his face. His breathing was slow and weak, as he barely struggled to stay conscious and support himself. Michelle’s face hurt from crying. Her body ached from sitting in the same uncomfortable position. She felt numb and empty. Finally, Tony’s faint exhales stopped, as Michelle saw him slump forward, the cuffs keeping him from fully collapsing to the floor.
He was gone. He had done everything right, risked everything to save her, and he paid for it with his life.
It’s my fault. If only I had been more careful leaving the hospital, I wouldn’t have been caught like this. None of this would have happened.
Everything faded to black, as Michelle sighed shakily in defeat.
—
Michelle opened her eyes to a bleak, concrete-laden room, illuminated only by mid-morning LA sunshine through bare windows. She was sitting in a rigid chair, her arms felt heavy by her sides. As she moved, the faint sound of metal tinkling filled the otherwise silent air.
I must have fallen asleep when they dragged me back to the centre. Tony’s body was gone, as was the pool of blood from his nose. Michelle would have to wait for someone else from CTU to come get her. Surely they’d notice if two of their agents were missing. It seemed the guard who stood outside her door had been replaced. She looked down at the floor, listening to her steady breaths, before jostling her body upwards at the sound of a heavy door being shoved open. Tony ran in, looking just as he did when he’d rescued her earlier.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here.”
She was confused. How could he possibly be alive? I watched him die. As he undid her handcuffs and removed the duct tape, Michelle began to ramble as her brain attempted to rationalise how her husband was alive and freeing her from Saunders’ capture.
“Tony…I don’t understand…How?!” She shrieked, looking at him with fervent eyes. Before he could respond, Michelle felt a stomach-churning lurch as she suddenly found herself sprinting down the stairs gripping his hand. As Michelle tried to regain her bearings, he suddenly stopped around the corner of the main corridor as she heard Saunders’ search party split off in pursuit of them.
“I think we’re clear, but we’d better be quiet, just follow my lead.” Tony whispered hoarsely, but Michelle felt uneasy, as though he was making a grave mistake. Her suspicions were confirmed as a menacing syringe pierced his neck, and a familiar smell filled her nostrils. Why do I know that smell? Why do I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen? Her brain couldn’t fathom the strange sense of routine.
Her eyes opened again, as she heard her heavy breaths take in the oxygen her body had since missed. She was back in the cell, only this time sitting on the floor in the corner, a new pair of handcuffs binding her wrists, in addition to a pair around her ankles. The shackles around her feet were also anchored to the wall behind her. Michelle ignored the sense of vertigo and her clouded mind as her eyes darted to the opposite corner, where Tony lay, in a position she knew she’d somehow seen him in before. As if on cue, blood dripped from his nostrils, and Saunders walked into the room wearing a Hazmat suit.
Again? She thought. How could this be happening again? This isn’t possible. I am not going to watch Tony die of the Cordilla virus again.
But despite her logic, she did. Michelle spent eight hours watching her husband die again. Every symptom started and stopped just as before, like some kind of sick schedule.
Everything faded to black, as Michelle sighed shakily in defeat.
—
Michelle opened her eyes to a bleak, concrete-laden room, illuminated only by mid-morning LA sunshine through bare windows. She was sitting in a rigid chair, her arms felt heavy by her sides. As she moved, the faint sound of metal tinkling filled the otherwise silent air.
She was exhausted by this point. But she it didn’t take much thinking for her to know exactly where she was and why. If Michelle was right, Tony would heroically come to rescue her at any moment now. The muffled gunshot
confirmed her theory.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here.”
Michelle recalled what happened last time she tried to ask Tony how he was still alive, and for the sake of her stomach, nodded and stayed silent. She followed him down the stairs, knowing soon they would have to stop. Instead of staying flush against the wall, she tried to drag him back up the stairs, hoping that something, anything, would change. But just as before, she felt herself collide with the stairs, her last conscious memory being that of what she now deduced to be chloroform.
Part of her hoped she wouldn’t wake up. Or that she would, but in her bed at home, with Tony next to her, alive and well. Michelle was a realist, however, and braced herself for what she was about to see. Her wrists were chafed from the handcuffs. She counted fifteen seconds before his nose started to bleed and he panicked. At this point, she didn’t care about what Saunders had to say. Michelle just wept whatever liquid remained in her body. There was no point in trying to escape, there was nothing she could do to change the next eight hours.
So once again she watched him die.
Everything faded to black, as Michelle sighed shakily in defeat.
—
Michelle opened her eyes to a bleak, concrete-laden room, illuminated only by mid-morning LA sunshine through bare windows. She was sitting in a rigid chair, her arms felt heavy by her sides. As she moved, the faint sound of metal tinkling filled the otherwise silent air.
She shrieked in pain and frustration and allowed herself to be dragged through the timeline of misery again.
Michelle had long since given up on fighting the loop. The only semi-successful attempt had been when she’d purposefully let go of Tony’s hand and threw herself over the stairwell railing hoping it would kill her. But alas, she woke up in prime position to watch Tony die.
Reaching the end of the umpteenth iteration, she was startled when the room collapsed around her. LA sunshine faded to a cold, dull blue. Her restraints disappeared, as she felt freedom in her wrists and airways. She was surrounded by tall, charcoal black pillars, and felt a cold chill whistle through. A disapproving tut echoed as prominent footsteps sounded towards her.
“I warned you Ms. Dessler.”
After Chloe Decker discovered that Lucifer Morningstar really was Lucifer Morningstar, and took off without so much as a goodbye, Lucifer had decided to pop down to Hell for a quick reign, seeing as she wouldn’t be back any time soon. He sat, observing the influx of souls, and jolted when he felt the presence of one Michelle Dessler.
Time moved slower in Hell, but even Lucifer knew that only a few short years had passed on Earth, meaning Michelle’s death was very unlikely to have been natural. He sighed when he realised this, but then felt more disheartened when he concluded she was down here on her own accord. The brief interaction they’d had was enough to indicate to Lucifer that his father would have very much liked her in the Silver City. He remembered warning her about the guilt she felt about her kidnapping, and could only hope that wasn’t what plagued her Hell loop now. But Lucifer knew that humans were difficult to persuade when it came to their souls.
Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be moved to her cell and prepared to watch the manifestation of her guilt. As soon as he noticed the handcuffs and duct tape, he knew full well she still felt guilty about being kidnapped. As the loop continued, he noticed the graphic details of ‘Tony’s’ death. Lucifer deduced that being at the site of the virus outbreak had had quite the impact on her, and since she was kidnapped on the same day, Michelle’s soul had combined them in her loop.
The level of manipulation available in a Hell loop depends on the determination of the person and the intensity of their guilt. The less pliable the loop, the more responsible the person felt. In Michelle’s case, there was very little she could do, only Lucifer noticed the meagre handful of points that she could possibly utilise. Part of Lucifer wanted to walk away, after all, he had warned her fair and square, and she had ignored him. But his time on Earth, and his own Hell loop had shown him that sometimes it just wasn’t that easy. And Michelle had dedicated her short life to protecting her country as a CTU agent. She didn’t deserve this. So at the conclusion of another cycle, he walked in, temporarily pausing the loop.
—
“W-Where am I?” She paced nervously. Laying a hand to her stomach instinctively, it felt empty. My baby. Where’s my baby? Michelle felt unnerved and disorientated, as a tall shadow approached her. His stern face was familiar to her, but Michelle didn’t care about placing his name, right now all she cared about was her baby’s safety.
“What have you done to my baby? Who are you?” She screamed nonsense as she grabbed Lucifer’s wrist, staring at him with fire in her eyes.
“The child is safe, I promise you, just let me explain.” He replied calmly, but her manic was too loud for her to hear him. Lucifer repeated his assurance to no avail.
“Ms. Dessler!” He shouted, a slight roar evident at the back of his throat. She looked at him, terrified. He paused to regain his composure.
“Michelle…you’ve died. You’re in Hell, but please don’t be worried about your baby. When a pregnant woman goes to Hell, the baby goes to Limbo for protection by Azrael, until the mother goes to Heaven, if and when that day should come.” His brown eyes stared into hers, which gazed into the distance as realisation swept across her.
“You don’t remember me? From just a few years ago? I visited you the day Tony went to jail.” Lucifer asked, hoping that surely she didn’t forget someone as iconic as him.
“Oh…oh my God. Lucifer? You’re actually…” She gulped. “The Devil? But I-I don’t understand. How were you on Earth then?” Her eyebrows lifted in shock.
He sighed. “I had taken a little vacay, but then things got a bit too tense for me, so I’ve come back here to rule Hell, just for a short while. Anyways, the point of conversation right now is you. I tried to tell you that day to stop feeling guilty about being kidnapped, and what you’ve just gone through, watching Tony come to rescue you and then die before your eyes is exactly why I warned you. What you’ve just suffered through right now is your Hell loop, your soul’s exhibition of your guilty conscience, mixed in with other pivotal moments in your life, in this case the virus outbreak. People like you are not supposed to be in Hell, yet somehow so many of you end up here anyway. If you want to go to Heaven, all you have to do is release your guilt, and your loop will disappear.”
Michelle’s eyes lit up, “So…so if I can just tell myself to stop feeling guilty about the kidnapping, I’ll be able to see my son? I’ll go to Heaven with him?”
“The fact that you’re more worried about offspring whom you’ve never met just further justifies my point.” He shook his head. “So yes, find a break in the sequence where you can manipulate it and prove to yourself that things had to happen a certain way. That being kidnapped not only wasn’t your fault, but that there was a reason Tony didn’t rescue you the way he did.”
He turned to leave, ready to restart the loop, but not before he whipped his head around to smile weakly at her one last time. “Good luck Ms. Dessler.”
—
Michelle knew that if she ever wanted to meet her child, she had to beat this stupid loop. The pep talk from Lucifer (who she still couldn’t believe was the Devil, and that he had once sat in her living room) had helped her start to feel less responsible for being kidnapped. No level of cautiousness could have prevented it or allowed her to escape, she knew that at least. But the second part of his instructions had confused her. Figure out why things had to happen the way that they did? Find a point that breaks the loop? She thought that was what she’d tried to do anyway, which is what caused the loop to throw her around, but maybe it wasn’t necessarily about escaping something that was about to happen. Maybe it wasn’t a moment of fear that she needed to manipulate. Michelle remembered more of what Lucifer had said, There was a reason Tony didn’t rescue you the way he did.
Maybe Tony is the key? It wasn’t about stopping Saunders’ men, that was for sure. It wasn’t about questioning the loop itself. She knew exactly why it existed now. The only fairly stagnant section of the loop was the very beginning, in the moments leading up to Tony’s entrance. If she could stop him from rescuing her, but before their recapture, then maybe it would show her the reason for waiting until the hostage exchange to be reunited with him.
As the loop started again, Michelle knew she had to act fast. There was no use in trying to free herself from the handcuffs, so she waited impatiently, tapping her leg frantically. Her heart raced as Tony opened the door after disarming the guard.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here.” He said on-cue.
When Tony bent to release her from the handcuffs, she jerked her body away, avoiding being freed at all costs. To her delight, he gave up, and instead moved to remove the duct tape first.
“Tony stop. Now.” Her voice was authoritative, as he looked at her in bewilderment.
“But-“ He protested
“No! You don’t need to rescue me like this. Saunders will capture both of us again. Just wait until Jack gets his daughter and then you can exchange me for her.” She explained, still trying to dodge his second attempts to free her hands.
“Are you crazy? They could throw me in jail for that. Why would I willingly let CTU lose a key suspect?” He asked. Michelle realised the questions he was asking came from the depths of her own conscience.
“It’s understandable. You would do it out of fear. Fear for my life. And yes, I’m sorry if you have to go to jail. And I’m sorry if things will be rough when you get released.” Michelle’s voice wavered now, as memories of their angst flooded back to her.
She looked at his pleading brown eyes, while tears filled her own. “We’re going to fall apart, and it’s going to be so, so hard. But I’m telling you now, once we’re back together, we’ll be so much stronger. It has to be this way. It just has to.”
Michelle could see he was running out of things to ask her, which meant she was feeling confident in her response. That’s it! We had to have that rough patch so we could truly realise how much we care about each other. And about the things that matter to us. Tony leaned forward to kiss her mouth roughly. Her eyes widened as she didn’t reciprocate, noticing how cold and rough his skin felt. And not five o’clock shadow rough. Gravel rough. This isn’t real. She remembered, not feeling any guilt as she kicked his stomach and he staggered backwards before falling onto his back, letting out a demonic hiss.
Standing up, he smiled as he looked at her, “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” The definitely not-real Tony said. Her surroundings had started to dwindle sharply, like static. He tried to approach her again, to which she retaliated by head-butting him, as he growled in pain.
“You’re not real! None of this is real! I’m not supposed to be here! The kidnapping wasn’t my fault!” She screamed at him, as the ground shook, and the walls crumbled around her. Everything dissolved into the darkness, as she sat on the cold, stone floor, panting and exhausted, before her eyes closed.
Michelle’s surroundings were stark white, and seemingly endless. Lucifer and a short woman with a bob, holding a swaddled bundle stood before her.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Michelle Dessler: demon slayer. You gave Dromos quite the ass-kicking.” Lucifer beamed, as Michelle looked away, blushing.
“Congratulations Ms. Dessler. As promised, here’s your son.” The woman handed the baby over to her. Michelle’s hands trembled as she held him for the first time. She noticed the olive tones in his skin. Just like his dad’s. Michelle thought with a smile. I hope he isn’t taking my death too hard. A pang of worry hit her, which was quickly dissuaded at the sight of her baby’s eyes opening. They were a gorgeous chocolate brown, much like her own. His hair was impossibly curly. Michelle smirked, He definitely got that from both of us. The baby’s soft gurgles melted Michelle’s heart. She could stare at him all day.
“Oh! One thing I should mention before you head off to Heaven for eternity. His name is William. Azrael here names all the foetuses in Limbo, on the off-chance they reside there permanently.” Lucifer gestured to the woman beside him. “It means ‘determined’, much like his mother.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you Lucifer, for helping me escape….for letting me see him.” Michelle smiled, joyous tears welling, as Azrael ushered the mother and son towards a warm light.
—
She opened her eyes, and found herself in a comfortable bed. Looking around, the bedroom was spacious, and a small bassinet sat at the centre. The surroundings felt oddly familiar. It certainly wasn’t the house she’d lived in with Tony during their marriage. Then Michelle laughed with joy. This was the big house in the much nicer neighbourhood she and Tony had dreamt of buying one day. It was perfect in every way, and she was sure there would be a large bedroom for William, just around the corner. The baby began to stir as he woke, Michelle eagerly rushing back to the crib, seeing the gift before her. She lifted him to her, stared into his eyes, feeling warmth flood her body. Michelle was home now.
She blinked and the loop reset.
…
Michelle stood in front of her grandparent’s house, holding a portable crib in her right hand. The door opens, and her grandparents, whom she loved so dearly, welcome her in. They chat as if nothing has changed, and play with the ray of sunshine that was their great-grandchild.
Michelle blinked and the loop reset.
…
She’s shaking the hand of George Mason, as she discovers she was accepted for her dream job at CTU. It was one of the proudest moments of her career, knowing that out of fifty applicants, she was the one Mr. Mason had picked.
Michelle blinked and the loop reset.
…
Although limited to memories involving those already deceased, Michelle lived through every loop like it was the first time, blissfully unaware of the connotations of her location.