Not So Different

What the fuck is doing he here?

Dan stared flabbergasted, clutching the bouquet of yellow lilies in one hand, at the sight of a solemn Tony Almeida standing in front of a headstone. Fresh flowers, presumably by his hand, had been laid there. Palm trees swished violently in the wind. Leaves and debris flew around, a few settling in his hair. But he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t appear to be an emotional wreck either, the way most people behave around the graves of their loved ones. While millions of questions raced through Dan’s mind, the cop in him knew that he had an obligation here. This was a man sentenced to life imprisonment in Washington, DC for a plethora of federal crimes. He was not supposed to be in Los Angeles. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to be in a cemetery. Cautiously, Dan approached him, his other hand creeping towards his holster.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right here, right now.” Dan asked, calmly, yet sternly.

Slowly, Tony turned to face the officer, not flinching at the firearm being drawn to face him. Briefly squinting, Dan could tell Tony recognised him, albeit vaguely. His eyes flickered down at the pale, pink lilies. “Because I know for a fact you’re off-duty and not wearing a vest.”

Dan looked away sheepishly, now noticing the distinct bulge of a pistol at Tony’s side. Starting a shoot-out definitely wasn’t going to help anybody. Shaking his head, he refocused himself. “Why the Hell aren’t you rotting away in a jail cell?”

“Orange wasn’t really my colour.” Tony deadpanned. His eyes were puffy, most likely from crying. Dark circles hung heavily beneath them. A thin gash across his cheek was in the process of healing.

With a smaller proximity between them, Dan viewed the writing on the slightly-aged granite. The name was familiar. Mentally, he went back to the information he’d read in Tony’s file, or at least, the sections that weren’t classified.

“Your wife…”

Tony tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I never got the chance to see her after she died. Couldn’t go to her funeral.” 

“So you what…broke out of prison just to fly across the country and see her grave?”

Tony softening his expression with a sigh. “I requested to move from solitary. I wanted to help out undercover, help expose some of the prison rings. They wouldn’t let me. Said that my history meant I wouldn’t get close enough.” He shrugged. “So I’m doing it myself.” A part of Tony scolded himself for nonchalantly sharing such sensitive details with a cop, particularly one he didn’t know all that well. But he figured that if Dan wanted to take him down, call for back-up, and ship his ass back to Washington, he probably would have by now.

Dan nodded slowly. 

He’s trying to give himself a purpose. A reason to keep going throughout the rest of his life.

The night he had returned to the hotel in Washington with Chloe, Dan had found himself unable to sleep. Aside from the mattress being slightly lumpy and the pillow being rock-hard, he was too haunted by the interaction he’d had with Tony Almeida. Despite what Chloe had already told him, his brain still couldn’t fathom how a CTU agent could fall so far. This was beyond embezzlement or concealment. No. He had switched sides completely. He had gone from a man who interrogated and arrested terrorists for a living, to a man who committed the acts of terrorism himself. Dan tried to put himself in the same shoes. But he just couldn’t. Would he have robbed a bank and gone on a murder spree just because he was angry about the existence of corrupt cops? Of course not. It just didn’t make sense to him. After tossing and turning some more, he left his bedroom to get a glass of water. Rather than attempt to sleep again, Dan sat himself on the couch, allowing the blue screen of his laptop to illuminate the pitch-black room. And for the rest of the night, he read Tony Almeida’s file. By the time Chloe had woken up for breakfast, Dan had understood. He had understood every reason why Tony had done things he did.

“I looked through your file. The things you did for her man…” Dan suspired, a breeze whipping through the trees again. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anybody to love someone that much.” He wouldn’t dare admit that the way Lucifer cared for Chloe was a close second, if not a first. Not after his little vanishing act. He relaxed his posture. “I-I mean the cop in me tells me that what you did was wrong. That no matter which way you look at it, the things you did were inexcusable. But another part of me knows that had I been in your position, had I lost everything the way you did…I don’t see myself handling things much differently.”

He didn’t meet his gaze. “She was everything to me.” Tony’s voice was raspy.

 “I think what got me most of all was that you’d both left CTU. You’d tried to make the best decision for you and your family, so you could be safe, and it didn’t work. She wasn’t killed in the line of duty, there was no way in Hell you could have seen any of that coming.” 

“What’s that expression…when we make plans, God laughs?” Tony laughed darkly.

The corners of Dan’s mouth upturned sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry that you’ve got nothing left except a headstone to cry over.

Tony gave a slight raise of his shoulders. He did appreciate the sympathy speech. After all, most people, particularly those with an ego over-inflated by working in the legal profession, would never admit that they too had the possibility to snap as he did. But Tony was drained as it was, from the two hours he’d spent in front of her grave, paying little mind to the passers by. This was the third time he’d visited. Of course he’d broken down the first time, all tears and pounding the earth. The second time had been a little better, less of an outcry and more of a sob. But this time he’d tried his best to remain stoic, silently praying to her. Of course, he still hadn’t stopped the tears from sliding down his face.

“Who are you here for?”

Dan glanced down at the slightly creased cellophane encasing the flowers in his hand. “Girlfriend of mine. Murdered.” The wound was still so fresh. Between Pierce’s murder the next day and Lucifer’s disappearance, he’d been too engaged in emotionally supporting Chloe that he’d never had the chance to grieve properly, privately. Before Dan knew it, he had started to ramble. “I felt like finally things were going well. Work was great, Charlotte, that was her name, Charlotte, and I were getting closer, Trixie, my daughter, adored her. I felt like what I had with her made up for how much I fucked up with Chloe. I-I know we hadn’t been together long but I loved her, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Is that weird? Is it weird that I felt so devoted to her, so quickly?” Dan’s voice was quivering.

Tony looked up, chuckling sentimentally as he shook his head. “No. I had said the same thing about Michelle. Maybe it was the fact that we had the threat of a nuclear bomb hanging over our heads, but from the moment I spoke to her, truly spoke to her, not just for work, I-I knew I loved her. I knew I wanted to protect her. So when I couldn’t, it killed me.” He paused. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend. Do they at least know who killed her?”

He sniffed. “Yeah. The lieutenant I was working under.” 

A huff escaped Tony’s mouth, a familiar sense of dread washing over him. He knew all too well the feeling of betrayal that Dan was likely experiencing. The fury directed not only at the perpetrator but also at yourself, because you’re so manically desperate to blame somebody you can punish directly, so why not you? Why not blame yourself for not having seen it coming? Why not blame yourself for not trusting your instincts? Why not relive every conversation with them, just so you can find a suspicious activity that you can directly reprimand yourself for not observing at the time? And of course, there was the aftermath. The lack of trust for everyone and everything, because if you didn’t see it the first time, who was to say you wouldn’t see it again?

“Were they convicted?”

He let out a small laugh. “Lucifer killed him after he tried to kill Chloe. He’d known Charlotte for years apparently, probably the only person angrier than I was.” The look on Tony’s face indicated he wasn’t all that surprised. “You know when that happened…I felt better just for a minute, all that anxiety about him not being convicted at trial sort of disappeared. But then I remembered that taking his life wouldn’t give me back hers.”

“I get that. There’s a small satisfaction, especially being a cop, you’d feel like justice had been served, but then the grief just comes back and washes over you again.”

“Yeah…exactly.”

By now the sun had started to set, casting a yellow glow over the cemetery. Dan ran a hand through his hair. He should really be getting to Charlotte’s grave and then heading home. 

After what I’ve told him, I really shouldn’t let him go. I mean, nice guy and all, but I just got out, and there’s no way in Hell I’m going back.

Tony’s hand trailed to his gun. 

“It’s getting late, I need to head home, but listen, uh, there’s a big funeral for a couple of cops being held here tomorrow, I wouldn’t be hanging around if I were you.”

Tony’s dropped his hand, as the words fell out of Dan’s mouth so apologetically, he could tell he was already rebuking himself for saying it. He cracked a half-smile. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Maybe he’s not going to report me after all.

Dan gave a small wave as he proceeded through the cemetery to Charlotte’s grave, while Tony turned to leave the way Dan had come. He pulled out his cell phone, fingers hovering over Chloe’s contact. A part of Dan nagged at him, relentlessly even.

He’s a fugitive for fuck’s sake! If he does anything else, it’s on you!

But he realised that if Tony was smart, he would have killed Dan then and there. So obviously there was a level of trust between them. And pissing off a former CTU agent and Marine, who he noted looked rather bulked for someone who’d been in prison, was not a risk he was willing to take. So he locked his phone, and off to Charlotte’s grave he went.

Through their semi-equivalent losses and opinions on morality, the two men realised they weren’t so different after all. Dan realised Tony was a much more extreme version of himself. A manifestation of how far his devotion to his loved ones could have taken him. While he wouldn’t consciously admit it, if Charlotte or God-forbid, Chloe and Trixie had been killed suddenly through a long chain of what he presumed had been government officials (he never got to see that part of the file) of course he’d go on his own vengeance mission. What was the point in waiting for due process if the rot was already in the wood? He hoped at least that Tony’s acts of vigilantism had helped to expose this. Dan shuddered to think these people could still remain in such influential positions. 

And Tony realised Dan was probably a similar version of who he could have become, had he chosen to become a cop after finishing his term in the Marines, rather than been dazzled by the prospects of the newly-established Counter Terrorist Unit. Hell, since it was LA, maybe he would have ended up with Chloe Decker after all. But he took Dan, the way he’d admitted his emotions to a man who was essentially still a stranger to him as an inspiration, a reminder, that it was okay to admit he wasn’t okay. That if he grieved, one step at a time, and just focused on small acts of justice, that maybe those last ounces of rage leftover from never pulling the trigger on Wilson would dissipate, and Tony would feel like he was atoning for his crimes just a little bit.

But what was that expression again? ‘When we make plans, God laughs’? 

Because even though Tony had a meeting tomorrow, a meeting with prospective candidates for the mercenary group he wanted to establish, he never made it through the night. After all, when somebody injects you with a lethal dose of hyocine-pentothal, and another person revives you ten minutes later, your heart tends to weaken. Add in age and tremendous stress, and Tony’s heart was a ticking time-bomb, just waiting to give out.

And at 2:32am the next day, give out, it did.

And what Tony saw when he woke, formed the start of a cycle he would do anything to break.