chelleuncurled | Ghost in this house

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Ghost in this house

May 10, 2012

Michelle hasn't seen Jack since the bar. She's gotten updated status reports from Chris - a cold way to think about a friend's well being, but it's easier to treat this as an investigation.

Her attempts at tracking information back to the source have hit one dead end after another. According to the evidence, a little birdie told the Chinese about Jack still being alive. She called the Toronto police, using her old CTU credentials, and asked the head officer numerous questions about the crime scene and the storage of evidence. She ran a check on her own phones to see if they were being tapped, went through her systems, but she was running out of ideas.

She stifles a yawn. Dr. Banks said being tired is normal and besides, she is still recovering from an emotional experience. When it came time during the prenatal exam to give the father's history, she almost broke down when she realized she didn't know if Tony's family ever had certain diseases and she couldn't believe she didn't ask Alex or Maria those questions before the visit. Her voice trembled as she said she'd have to get back to her on some information. Dr. Banks said a blood test would determine pregnancy and Michelle glanced up at her and told her that she knows she's pregnant and there's no way she's wrong.

The rest of the visit went normally and Michelle watched her blood fill small glass tubes and thought about how she was bleeding for two.

In the waiting area, her mom sat reading Worth and when she saw her daughter she put aside the magazine and walked over to her. Over the last few weeks, Michelle's observed that her mom's started turning Tony into a larger than life figure and using him as a surefire way to keep her from doing anything even slightly dangerous. At the same time, her mom's dislike toward Jack has only grown and Michelle's stopped giving her updates.

In a way she's trapped. Some feelings and things she can never tell anyone - she can't talk to Chris about her jealousy and she can't talk to her mom because she'll only feed her hate and she can't talk to any of her old friends because the circumstances of Tony's death are secret and even if they weren't, she's not sure what she'd say. Some mornings she misses Tony so much she can barely breathe and other times she thinks maybe today will be a good day - but then she'll spot something that reminds her of him and have to force herself to move. She still feels him with her, still expects that she'll wake up and feel his hand against hers, hear him in the shower, have him hand her coffee in the morning - so many little things she took for granted when they were first married, cherished when they were brought back together, and now miss like a sixth sense.

And she knows Jack must have been surprised when she called and asked him if he would help her get Tony's clothes ready for donation. Her mom's been mentioning it casually and more than that she knows living with his memory so strongly around her doesn't help anyone - especially herself and when she's further into her pregnancy she won't be able to lift as much and after the baby arrives it'll be difficult to find the time or energy.

There's a knock at the door and she knows he's arrived.

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"Just...you're sure you want to get rid of everything." He has to wonder if she really wants to get rid of all of Tony's things; if there might not be a shirt, or sweater or something she wanted to save.

But then the only experience about that kind of thing he has to go on is from when Teri died; when he left things as they were for a while, then one day called Kim to tell her to take what she wanted. Once she'd picked out what she wanted, he'd tossed things in boxes without looking, in a blind, grief-fuelled attempt to numb himself and forget his guilt and pain; he'd probably been more than a little drunk, if not when he called Kim, then after she left. There were some things that had escaped, but most of Teri's clothes and things had gone into boxes; out of sight, but never out of mind.

He'd put the boxes in the garage, leaving them unlabelled, until months later he'd packed other things he was geting rid of when he sold the house. All the miscellaneous things; old books, dishes, lamps, stuff he was going to donate, he'd piled on top of the boxes containing Teri's clothes, becoming mixed in until he couldn't tell which was which. He'd carted the anonymous boxes off to Goodwill, leaving them unlabelled so he didn't have to think about what was inside.

"Almost everything," she amends. Jack might notice she's wearing a USMC shirt and it's at least a size too large. "I would rather lock the closet and never touch his things again, but that's not really an option." She looks up at him and tries to remember all of the reasons she had for wanting to complete this task today.

"Are you feeling up to this?" It's more than just that Tony wouldn't mind him helping. Jack's been through this before and with him around she's less likely to dissolve into tears.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, more by reflex than because he actually believes it. He couldn't ever really be 'fine' while packing up his best friend's things with his widow. "Where is everything, then?"

Michelle wants to know if he can lift and carry boxes.

Neither of them are fine emotionally and although he's trying to seem okay she knows from conversations with Chris that he's not. Hearing what he's going through makes her jealousy seem petty and in those moments she wants nothing more than for Chris and Jack to have their lives together.

It's only later, when she's alone, when she feels the empty side of the bed with her hand and looks at the useless clothing that she wishes she could make a trade.

Even if she'd never forgive herself, and Tony would be different, and Chris... - it wouldn't be for her, it would be for the baby growing inside of her.

"In the bedroom," she repeats, giving him a look that makes it clear she's wondering if he's listening to her.

"Yeah, I figured. Where's the bedroom, though?" he asks. "I didn't get the chance to see this place after you two got back together."

"Upstairs," she assumes he would figure that out and her expression softens. "I know," she says quietly, thinking about how they never thought he'd get to come back. "It was supposed to be a new life." Her words are spoken without thinking and she closes her eyes.

Jack swallows painfully, wishing he could take her pain away, particularly as he knows how that feels; to have the future--a second chance--in your grasp and have it ripped away suddenly, leaving you with regrets and might-have-beens.

But he's not even sure how he can try and comfort her, not when they've drifted apart and when there's still that tiny voice in his head that still says that if he'd just done things differently, that Tony would still be here, that Michelle wouldn't have to go through with this.

Slowly, without really thinking about what he's doing, he reaches out and lightly puts a hand on her arm, whispering, "I know."

When she meets his eyes, she knows the depth of that knowledge and has to look away. "Do you want to start putting the boxes together?"

Jack pulls his hand away, not sure the gesture was the right move, considering her quick change of the subject. "Yeah, sure," he says, heading for the stairs.

She gets ahead of him and walks upstairs, a trip she's taken countless times, but somehow feels longer today as if her body knows the task ahead. She stops at first door on the left. "I tried to clean a little - " she's almost embarassed at the state of the room, but, it has been a long few months and it will soon feel a lot emptier.

Jack shakes his head with a soft, "It's okay." The room's kind of messy, but he's seen worse. He's lived in worse, a few times. After Teri died he hadn't done much cleaning either; only what he'd had to when someone was coming to the house, to convince them that he was okay.

The boxes are on the bed already, and he starts folding them into shape.

Tony moving back in, Tony moving boxes into the room, the sound of packing tape as they got ready to move into this new house and she's remembering the last time and wants to scream at Jack to stop. Maybe it's too soon; she might need more time.

Instead she picks up the roll of tape from the dresser and walks over to him.

Are you strong enough to do this? At one time I wouldn't have questioned your physical abilities but now...Tony would have never wanted to see you this way. Chris has told me some things - worrying things - and it was so much easier to stay detatched when I didn't see you.

She rips off a piece of tape and begins sealing the bottom of the box.

The silence in the room is thick, growing hard and harder to break with every minute that passes. It's hard to know what to say at the moment; small talk seems so out of place, so cold, but then he's not sure either of them wants to talk about anything of importance, either. He's not sure they can.

There are so many personal things in here; photos on the bedside table of Michelle and Tony at their wedding, pictures of them together, just relaxing, without a care in the world. Jack tries to concentrate on the cardboard in front of him, not look around at the reminders.

He folds the boxes and she tapes them, and soon enough there are enough ready to get them started. "We can probably start packing things, and just build more as we need them," he says, quietly.

Michelle glances over at one of the pictures, Tony's arm around her, both of them smiling and casual. Tony had kept a smaller version of the photo in his wallet after they got married the first time. For months she thought she'd never see that man again outside of photos and then the fire came back into his eyes.

It was all gone now.

"That's a good idea," she answers, grateful for the sound of something other than tape ripping off. Tony has - had - his own closet and that will make it easier to sort. After it's cleared she can't imagine ever finding something to fill the space.

"I'll start with the dresser, do you want to handle the closet?"

"Sure," he says, heading over to the one closet that isn't open and opens the doors, flicking on the light. Inside, everything's on hangers or stacked--for the most part, neatly--on the shelf. He pulls an armload of clothing out, everything still on its hangers; it seems easiest to just take it out and take the hangers out as he folds it.

There are a few things he's pulled out that seem familiar; not that he can remember specifically, as he'd never really paid attention to what Tony was wearing, but he has vague memories of seeing Tony wear it. Maybe it's better that way, that it hadn't really made that much of an impression on him, as it helps him stay calm and detached as he carefully starts folding shirts.

Michelle opens the bottom drawer of Tony's dresser and runs her hand over his t-shirts. Unlike the sheets, they still smell like him. She can hear Jack behind her, the hangers clicking together as he pulls them out of the closet.

This is real. This is final.

She takes a breath before reaching into the drawer and holding the shirts against her chest, getting ready to drop them into the box at her side.

They feel like him too - the soft cotton brushing against her cheek and they're cold without the body heat of their owner. She gently places them next to her, not in the box.

"You might like some of these," she whispers to her baby.

Jack turns at her whisper but looks away quickly when he sees her touching her stomach, feeling like he's eavesdropping on a private conversation. He turns back to the pile, folding clothes and placing them in the box next to him.

But as he puts one shirt in the box and turns to the next one on the pile, his breath catches in his throat. It's a Chicago Cubs jersey, and it's not that he can specifically remember a time when Tony wore it, though he's sure he's seen it before. It's that it's Tony's beloved Cubs, something that was just so...so Tony, and for a moment that familar pain hits him again, as he picks up the shirt reverently, staring at it for a moment.

The noises stop and she looks back at him, catching him holding up the shirt. Her eyes water and she breathes through the moment. How could she ever say he didn't care about Tony's life or death?

"I hated that shirt," she admits, placing a few t-shirts in the box. "Maria bought it for him one year and he wore it a lot and it was my least favorite one he had, but he loved the Cubs and he loved that shirt." She puts a few light shirts into the box.

"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat when it comes out a little hoarser than he'd like. There's a short pause before he adds, "Do you remember whether his Cubs mug was damaged in the attack at CTU? I know he had one when I got back after that day."

Of course that had been a couple months later, more than enough time for Tony to get a new one. But then even the fact that he'd get a new one if the old one had been destroyed showed how much it had meant to Tony.

She shakes her head slightly, "I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention." At that time, they were barely more than co-workers and everything else took precedence over finding or noticing a mug. Not like later. She's quiet for a moment.

"After Hammond took over his office I couldn't find the mug and I went out and bought a new one even though I knew he wouldn't see it for - for a long time. He didn't notice and I never told him. I couldn't even keep track of a mug, how am I going to raise a child?"

"You can't really compare the two," Jack says, "You're probably going to have a harder time intentionally leaving them with someone, than keeping track of them. Besides, they tend to remind you that they're there, even when you'd rather they not."

Just wait until the baby's born and she tries to sit down for more than five minutes and relax.

"I don't know if I can do this alone," she holds onto one of Tony's shirts, hugging it like a beloved stuffed animal and her head's lowered.

He's gone and they're boxing up his things and then all she'll have are memories and she won't be able to pretend that he's ever coming back. "And there's still the apartment at the bar..."

"Yeah, I know. I can help with that too, if you want," he says, softly, walking over to her. Crouching down beside her, he reaches out and puts a hand on her back. "You don't have to do all of it alone."

Even after everything there's something calming about him being next to her, maybe because she knows he's not going away.

She breathes out, "But it's not right to ask anyone else to...I should be able to handle this on my own."

Jack shakes his head. "I don't think anyone can handle something like this on their own. You shouldn't feel like you have to be the exception."

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