“Shit.”
He sat up from the bed, walking the short distance to the ensuite door. “What’s wrong?”
The door opened slowly, an uncertain look on Sidra’s face. Tony tilted his head, confused, until her trembling hand moved towards him. A long, white rod was clutched in her grip. A once-familiar long, white rod he thought he’d never see again. The two distinct lines that appeared only served to force the memory to the forefront of his mind.
Michelle handed the test over to him, her bottom lip between her teeth, but mouth still outstretched in the semblance of a grin.
“Shit.” He echoed.
“That’s…that’s a good thing, right?” His voice shook a little in disbelief.
“Yeah…” Sidra’s voice was quiet. He couldn’t read her expression. She couldn’t read his either. It was as though each were intentionally trying to keep their poker face up.
‘Yeah…yeah it is, I think.” Michelle laughed weakly. She looked up, to find a nervous but nonetheless excited smile on his face. His eyes were lit up with more love and happiness than she’d seen in a long time. Before their divorce, before prison even. Tony could tell she was pleased, although the anxiety within her definitely seemed to dominate her expression.
“W-wait…how is this possible? We were careful, you were…I was…” He spluttered.
Sidra grimaced. “I may have skipped a pill or two by accident that time we were staking out Shore?”And then when we got him in custody, that Senator gave us the keys to her penthouse?” She smiled sheepishly. “We did get a little carried away that night. Probably didn’t help that I downed that bottle of merlot. And as much as we like to joke about how old you are…clearly you’re not that old.”
He smiled crookedly. “So, uh, what now? We can…or, uh…” Again, he was at a loss for words, not daring to assume what she wanted, not daring to let on his true feelings.
She ran a hand through her hair, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah…when we get back to L.A.…or…unless…” Her voice trailed to silence.
“What do you want to do?” Tony asked softly.
Sidra paused, looking at the floor. The next part came out jumbled, as if she were already expecting to be shut down. “I-it’s about both of us. This is a big deal, and we don’t have the lifestyle or the-”
“Sidra.” He spoke more firmly.
Taking a breath, she spoke evenly. “I…I want to keep it. B-but like I said, I-I get it if you-”
“N-no…I….” He stepped closer, lifting her chin so she could see him. “I think I want to as well.” And as Tony said it, he realised it was true.
“Really?” She whispered.
Tony nodded, thumbing over her cheek. “Really.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.” Chloe grumbled, peering around the alley. “This is where we agreed to meet Lockwood, right? All we’re doing is verifying the transaction, I don’t see why it had to be done somewhere so shady.”
Tony looked down at his phone. “Yeah, it has to be. But you’re right, something feels off.” He craned his neck to look for any alternate entrances.
“I’ll retrace our…” Sidra froze where she stood, her voice trailing off. A tall, stern woman in a suit walked towards Sidra, ushering her back to where Tony and Chloe were. Tony reached for his gun, but Chloe grabbed his arm. Several similarly dressed people had surrounded them. Clearly they were carrying weapons, but they didn’t seem to intend any harm. As they neared, Tony recognised the insignia on their badges and paled.
“We need the three of you to come with us.” The woman declared.
“‘Come with you’ where?” Sidra raised an eyebrow.
Their faces remained unchanged. “By order of the President of the United States, your presence is requested at the White House.”
“Sidra, they’re Secret Service…” Chloe said under her breath.
“Just come with us.” The woman repeated.
No handcuffs were fished out, no force was used. They didn’t seem to have any intention of arrest. Hesitantly, they followed the agents into the tinted grey Chevy Suburban. They were taken along the familiar route to the White House. Tony waited for an explanation, but wasn’t surprised by the silence. The three of them were pat down, guns and phones confiscated. Tony realised he hadn’t actually set foot in the place before. Even when Palmer had pardoned him, he’d personally come to the prison. Jack and Bill had been the one to help with the siege all those years ago, while Tony was off looking for the bioweapon. After more navigation, the doors to the Oval Office opened.
President John Donovan leaned casually against his desk. The Secret Service agents left them alone.
“Have a seat.”
Tony gave a discerning look as they sat on the cream sofa. Chloe picked at a thread on her sleeve. Sidra inched closer towards Tony. It seemed so nonchalant, so casual. Sidra and Tony had only met the guy once, and not under the nicest of circumstances. And Tony was pretty sure Chloe hadn’t ever spoken to Donovan personally.
Donovan chuckled lightly. “You’re not under arrest, I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” Chloe squinted.
He sighed. “You people aren’t exactly the easiest to get in touch with. Didn’t really have a choice but to bring you here.”
“So what’s this about?” Tony asked.
“I’ve recently being modifying some foreign policies, including some with Russia.”
Chloe sat up straighter. Donovan noticed this, and looked away, almost disappointed.
“It’s not quite what you think. I asked about negotiating his release, they won’t budge. Although to be fair, they won’t budge on the few other Americans they have either.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“But...” He raised his hand. “I’ve made a small arrangement that I think you’ll be happy with.” He picked up a file on his desk. “One of the updated terms regards transparency and ethical treatment. Just because someone’s being punished overseas doesn’t mean their American rights should be revoked. So we’ll be corresponding regularly and sending officials over once a month. Which means you’ll be able to write to him, send him small things like photos. As will his daughter.”
They were speechless.
“I-I know it’s not much. Truth be told I’m a little ashamed we couldn’t do more, but to be fair, Bauer’s made a lot of enemies. Even if he were to come back here, we can’t guarantee his protection. Or any of yours. I don’t think he’d want that. And I’m sure you wouldn’t either.”
Tony nodded, agreeing. It was what he’d told Chloe after all, but getting some form of official closure had to help at least a little. And communicating with him was something, right? For Jack to even just have the comfort of knowing that Chloe was alive and safe, that Kim and her family were too, it would make his time there all the more bearable. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Thank you.”
Chloe echoed Tony’s thanks with a smile.
Donovan tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I did try, really. I believe he’s suffered long enough. I-I’ll admit I didn’t know the full story about him until recently. I had to use Rebecca’s old CTU login. She had access to all the files, you see. I guess she’s still a big inspiration for me. When I look at the management of CTU, the FBI, trying to stop corruption from starting or spreading, I try and think about what she would do.”
Tony glanced up at him, speaking with faint reverence. “I think she’d be proud of you. The fact that you’re not running the country naively, expecting everybody to play by the rules.” His mind traced back to when he’d met her.
The bar was loud, some kind of soccer match was on. Tony sipped his seltzer quietly, scanning the room for whoever was supposed to be getting him through the Berlin airport onto a flight back to America.
Out of the corner of his eye, a petite figure leaned on the bar to order a drink. Turning around, he saw a woman a little younger than him. She was wearing a leather jacket, the thickness underneath undeniably due to a Kevlar vest. Glancing down, he saw combat boots. His German wasn’t great, but from what he gathered she had asked for a beer. Her hair was orange, skin fair, voice full of conviction. For a split second, he thought it was Renee Walker. But he knew that couldn’t be true.
She made eye contact with him and squinted, as if she knew who he was. Quickly flashing a smile to thank the bartender, she took the empty stool next to him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The woman hissed.
He raised an eyebrow, speaking flatly. “Who’s asking?”
Rebecca didn’t break his gaze. “The current National Director of CTU.” She cleared her throat. “Seriously, Almeida. Do you know how many people are still looking for you?”
Tony was confused. She should surely be calling every unit within the area for back-up right now and slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, if not, shooting him then and there.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
He furrowed his brow even more.
She laughed. “Of course not. We worked together on a mission, years ago. I reckon you’d only been working at CTU for a year, if that. Probably paid no attention to the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed intern that District had assigned to your team.” He looked at her blankly. “It’s Rebecca, by the way. Rebecca Ingram.”
His lips pressed into a thin line before smirking. Tony struggled to pilfer through the memories in his mind. It certainly wasn’t what it used to be.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca, I don’t seem to remember. But I believe you.”
Rebecca sipped the beer. “I take it you’re looking for a way out. I’ve seen your eyes scan left and right about thirty times now.”
He shook his head. Nothing got past her it seemed. “Are you arresting me, or not?”
She sighed. “I should. But I won’t. One, because if they put you in prison, I know it won’t take very long for you to break back out again. You’re not stupid. But two…” Her eyes fell solemn. “I don’t want to see you die. Because they’re not going to put you in prison, you do know that?”
Tony looked even more bewildered now. “No shit, I’m not going back to prison. Why are you helping me? You barely know me. If I were you, I’d be getting far, far away from me.”
Rebecca tutted. “I know you’re a fallen hero. Just like Bauer. Not a terrorist, not exactly a saint either.” He snorted. “But someone who was pushed to their breaking point. You, Bauer, Dessler, O’Brian, all of you went through the same shit. I suppose that’s why I worked so hard to get this job. To try and make sure that we look for corruption inside and outside our government. Because I know that there’s very few people out there who think like me. Everybody else wants to rule with this gun-ho optimistic hero mindset. But that’s not how it works.”
He looked down into his glass. He’d never heard anyone speak of him so reverently. Especially not after what he’d done in Washington. And Tony had never heard of a CTU Director who didn’t have their head up their ass. Him included.
When he realised she was telling the truth, that she genuinely wanted to talk to him, he slowly let his guard down. She really was just here on her own.
They’d poured their hearts out to each other. They’d laughed. They’d bitched about some of the old heads of District they’d both worked under. It was nice. It was odd how easy it was for them to talk so freely, be so vulnerable.
One thing lead to another and she was going down on him in his hotel room.
If Rebecca was being honest with herself, there was a man back home who hadn’t left her mind since his mission appeared discreetly in her inbox. Being with Tony right now was probably due to the few beers she’d downed. That and well, he wasn’t exactly unattractive. But there was a camaraderie there, the mutual understanding and respect of two people who’d served their country.
Tony’s airfield contact had never showed, indicating to him that leaving Germany wasn’t going to be safe just yet. That perhaps a trap lay in wait. And Rebecca was pursuing a private, high-level mission of her own, at the request of Senator John Donovan. A man she hadn’t met in person yet, only seen in the media, and would only do so if she was successful. The fact that she was alone in Germany was another policy of hers. If she had a hunch, she would tell no one where she was going. Her inner circle was incredibly limited, only a few trusted analysts still in Washington. But right now in Berlin, it was just her and Tony. So for the next few months they watched each other’s backs. Eventually, Rebecca found was she was looking for, and Tony began to grow paranoid of the people around him. He was getting to the point where he’d stayed too long in one place.
So Rebecca had gotten him on a private, unmonitored flight to Israel, and she had gone back to the States.
From there, her and Donovan were history. Like two teenage sweethearts, everybody knew they were madly in love. Despite media pressures and tabloids, the hot-topic relationship between the National CTU Director and the increasingly popular Senator had prevailed ever since.
And Israel had taken him straight to Sidra.
It wasn’t quite love, but Tony had felt a great deal of appreciation for Rebecca during that brief period of time abroad. She’d made him feel heard, made him feel valid. Reminded him that yes he’d done some bad things, but that shouldn’t mean he should forget the good he’s done either.
“When I helped her with that first mission she did for you, I could tell she loved you even then. She wasn’t just trying to get it right for the sake of the mission, I think she really wanted to impress you.”
He smiled sheepishly, looking at their wedding photo on the desk. “Thanks.”
“So…” Sidra started, breaking the sombre silence. “That’s all?” She attempted a half-hearted laugh, still anxious that she was about to be thrown into a jail cell or worse.
“Oh. Right. Yes, we’ve been aware of your activities for some time now. But I meant what I said. You’re not being arrested.”
She furrowed her brow in suspicion.
“In an ideal world, our government and its agencies would be filled only with dedicated, honest, loyal people. But as you would well know, they aren’t. And that corruption, that deceit, isn’t always obvious from the inside. Which is why people like the three of you are necessary.”
“What are you saying here?” Tony leaned forward.
Donovan sighed. “You’re doing some good work, and I believe you’re helping to steer our government back on a righteous path. When you interrogated my father, I’ll admit, it made me furious that you would even suspect him. But it opened my eyes to the levels of scandal and lies that are within even the most intimate of relationships.” He cleared his throat. “Officially, you can’t exactly get a medal or pardon. Not that you need it, Chloe. And as far as I’m concerned, ” he gestured to Sidra, “you don’t even exist according to our records. But we’ll come to an agreement here. You keep doing what you’re doing, stay out of trouble, keep your heads down, and I’ll make sure you nobody stops you. Aliases, extra guards or facilities, they’re yours if you need them.”
“So you’re giving us your blessing, in other words?”
“Yeah.” He brushed his hand over his face. “You’ve suffered a lot too, Almeida. Rebecca opened my eyes to who you really were, before everything happened to you. And while I can’t condone any of what you did after your wife’s death, I can see you’re trying to make up for it now. I can see you’re trying to do the right thing, get your life together.” His eyes focused on Sidra’s no-longer-subtle pregnancy belly. “And I would hate for somebody to get in the way of that again.” Donovan softened his voice before shaking his head and raising a finger. “I mean it though. You try and pull anything, I won’t hesitate to put you on the electric chair. At the end of the day, you’re still a criminal, Almeida.”
Tony let out a weak laugh. “Understood.”
The details of the Russian prison correspondence system were passed to Chloe, who clutched the manilla file to her chest, a grateful look on her face. Sidra offered Donovan a small smile as she stood up and followed Chloe out.
“Oh, and Almeida?” Tony stopped, midway through exiting. He stepped back to face Donovan, whose authoritative mask had faded. “For what it’s worth. I took the time to read through Michelle’s file properly the other day.” His face fell solemn. “She was an incredible woman. I’m sorry you had to lose her.”
The appreciative sigh came out slightly choked. “Me too…”
The baby pink bundle wriggled in his arms. Her skin was soft and caramel, almond eyes the deepest shade of brown, hair straight and dark. She babbled at her father, who sniffled.
“Hi…” Tony murmured. Sidra leaned over from the hospital bed, running a finger down the length of the baby’s swaddled body. She groaned as she sat up further to kiss Tony on the cheek.
“So we’ve figured out the first and middle name. Whose last name is she getting?”
A wave of guilt washed over Tony. The name ‘Almeida’, despite its reasonable commonality, had become somewhat synonymous with terror in the last decade. He hadn’t seen any of his family since the faking of his death. Last he heard, most of them had fled back to Chicago to avoid the incessant press that had been pursuing them in Los Angeles. Some had even been forced into Witness Protection, with several of the victims’ families out for revenge. “Give her yours. She shouldn’t be associated with me.” His voice was sad.
“I-I don’t want her connected to me either. Just in case they somehow have access to…” She shook her head. “Our daughter deserves a fresh start.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “You were going to take Maya’s surname, weren’t you? When you were going to get married?”
She gave him a quizzed look. “Yeah…why?”
“Why not give her Maya’s? At least that way we’re choosing something meaningful.”
The endearing look on his face inclined her to agree with him. Her fiancé’s surname had been somewhat common after all, so the likelihood of anybody forming a connection was much lower. Sidra wrote their daughter’s full name on the form, sliding it over to him. The corners of his mouth upturned.
Rayna Michelle Cohen
“Perfect.”
Finalising the details, she poked his arm playfully. “Hey. My turn to hold her. You can sign this.”
He passed Rayna back to her mother. Tony couldn’t help but smile. He’d never seen so much warmth and love in her expression. Throughout the pregnancy she’d seemed so scared, and rightfully so. But now that their daughter was here, and now that they had some form of closure that she was safe, she could finally drop her guard a little.
“She’s got your eyes.” Tony mused, softly. His index finger brushed lightly against the side of her tiny head. That elicited a small frown from her.
Sidra snorted. “And your angry scowl.”
He laughed through his nose. It was true. When she’d made that face, the subtle angle in her jaw and nose became more apparent. It was a protuberant reminder that she was his daughter, too. Of course he’d expected her to look like her mother, but it truly amazed him at this moment how much she could look like him too.
A little while later, Chloe came into the ward, brandishing a larger-than-life teddy bear, and a letter from Jack. Tony had seen a lot of happiness surface in Chloe these last few months too. Jack, for the most part, seemed well. The prison wasn’t particularly violent or tough on people who did their labour and stayed quiet. He said compared to China, his conditions now were laughable. They’d even let him have a few books with some pen and paper. He spent his free time writing manuscripts, some in Russian, some in English. And now, he had something else to write about too. Jack had insisted on no photos being sent, as much as it hurt. He wanted them, really, but he also knew that a photo could be sufficient enough for someone to figure out how to put out a hit or a threat. And he damn well couldn’t risk that. After all, his imprisonment was for their protection. Tony was sure Chloe already had half of her next letter ready, leaving a blank space only for the explicit description of Rayna she was going to write. Tony was surprised when Jack wrote a letter to him too, a few months into the correspondence system. He had written back, apologising more genuinely than he felt he’d ever had the chance to. And, as far as Tony could tell, Jack seemed happy that Tony had managed to find some semblance of peace in his life. That despite how similarly life had screwed them, each of them had found some way to make it work.
“Come hold your goddaughter.” Sidra called over.
Chloe was teary too, cooing softly to Rayna. Tony couldn’t quite place the flurry of emotions he was feeling. Was grief and pain over Michelle reemerging? Absolutely. Was he sad deep down that she’d never be around to experience this, that they never got this far? Of course. Was he terrified for Rayna’s safety, still paranoid that something horrible would happen? Definitely. Scared because oh shit, he was a father now? That too.
But Tony knew the overwhelming joy he felt right now was set to last.
He just knew it.
—
It wasn’t for a few sleepless but blissful months that Tony was able to go to Michelle’s grave. Talking to her regularly had been something he’d tried to commit to, to help him work through his grief, to help him be a better person, a better partner, and now, a better father. Sidra had practically forced him out the door today. She knew it was important for him. And a huge part of her was so honoured that Tony had taken the brave step of having a child with her. And not just have the child but devote to raising her too. So she was willing to let him do whatever he needed to manage his existing grief and pain. After all, she knew he’d do the same for her too.
“I know it’s been a while, sorry. A lot’s happened these last few months.” He laid the flowers down, the sun radiating on his back. “I-I’m a father now. Sidra and I have a daughter. She’s…she’s beautiful. Her name is Rayna, after Sidra’s mother. Her middle name…well it’s yours, I hope you don’t mind. ” He laughed, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. “And it’s been incredible. I mean I always wanted kids, but to actually have one now…it’s insane. It’s insane how much love I feel for her, how she never fails to make me happy. Even when she cries, to me, it’s just another reminder that something good can and has come out of all the bad.”
He took in a shuddering breath. “But it’s also made me realise even more now just how damn wrong I was. How wrong the things I did were. How wrong I was to believe that the only way to deal with loss was to just project that pain and loss onto others. It’s…it’s so wrong. There’s something a little ironic in there that it took me becoming a father, it took me seeing new life, to realise just how much destruction I caused. How much life has been lost because of me. It’s so god-damn wrong how far I took it. I realise now that finding happiness was possible, that none of what I did was necessary. Getting to Alan Wilson didn’t help me at all. I should have believed Jack when he told me that. And I’m sure if you were here you’d be telling me I should have listened to him too. It’s killing me that it took all this to force me to understand.” His voice wavered, composure dissipating. “And it’s killing me even more that I can’t share the happiness I’m feeling right now with you. That we never got the chance to do this together.”
The tears fell slowly. He allowed them to fall, accepting his emotions as they were. Accepting the pain and guilt, trying to focus on his breathing, trying to focus on the things around him so he wouldn’t lose it completely.
“If it’s one thing I can do now though, it’s to make sure she’s a good person. That she’s strong and brave enough to do the right thing no matter what. The kind of person…” Tony’s voice broke again. “The kind of person you would have wanted our children to grow up and become.”
He stayed there for a little while longer, speaking quietly to her, before saying goodbye and driving home. Familiar intrusive thoughts and doubt tempted Tony. Tempted him to cry out and rage. But he knew he was past that. He didn’t want to be that person anymore. So he repressed the feelings and allowed the tension to grow, thinking he’d have to battle it, thinking that now that he’d spoken to Michelle about his new life that somehow he was about to spiral right back to the initial raw pain of his grief.
But when Tony came home and took Rayna in his arms, watched her breathe, watched her squirm, watched her reach out to him, assurance consumed him.
Because the tension faded.
And the happiness emerged.