What You Need

Auth Notes: Written as a gift for Napalmiris on LJ, who gave me some Daniel. *heart*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What You Need


Two things were important to David Emerson. Money, and personal loyalty. It was something I discovered quite quickly, and perhaps the only way I ever had any sway over him. He certainly had more than enough sway over me in return.

After Henderson had stabbed me with that syringe that was meant to kill him, after I felt myself slip away into oblivion in Jack's arms, all I knew was darkness. Darkness, and then pain, and cold, and I couldn't understand it, what was happening, slipping in and out of consciousness so many times that I didn't even know what was real anymore, if I was alive or dead. At one point I heard voices - one gruff, the other eloquent and smooth. British accent.

The rough voice spoke first. "Henderson's dead. Bauer killed him, they're saying it was self defense." Part of me felt relief. Of course Jack would take care of things, get rid of the man who'd tried to kill me. The voice continued. "Please tell me we got payment in advance for this poor schmuck."

British Accent had a smile to it. "Of course. And now we don't have to worry about Henderson."

There was silence for a time, then a gruff question. "Should we do him now, or later?"

"Not now. It would be a shame, after we went through such trouble to save him." I realized now, that they must be talking about me, and vaguely registered a touch on my hair. "We've been watching him for a while, you know. I think he might be worth keeping."

"Emerson, he hasn't even regained consciousness. The guy could be a vegetable for all we know, he was out for so long."

"We'll wait and see. I want to talk to him."

Then the voices were silent, and I faded back into darkness.

~~~~~~


Every once and a while there were voices, but I didn't pay attention to them. Not until I heard Jack's name again. I struggled through the darkness, struggled to open my eyes. Jack would come for me, wouldn't he? If he even knew I was alive, at least. But if Jack was coming, he'd need my help....

"Tony?" A hand on my face, strangely warm. Mr. British Accent. What had they called him, again? "Can you hear me?"

"Mmm," I managed, trying to place myself before I revealed too much consciousness. The room was cool, dimly lit, and I couldn't hear anything, no matter how I concentrated. Whoever had spoken was silent, and finally I was forced to open my eyes. There was a chair beside my bed, where a dark haired man sat patiently, watching me. I opened my mouth to speak, finding my voice rough from disuse. "Who are you?"

"Emerson. You may call me David, Tony." A little smile played about the corners of his mouth, but it wasn't smug, just faintly... curious.

I swallowed, wishing my mouth weren't so try. "How do you know my name?"

He uncapped a bottle of water that was on the side table and filled a glass, handing it to me. "Be careful... you've been in and out of consciousness for some time."

"I... I thought I was dying...."

"Oh, you were dead." He helped me support the glass as I drank, which I shamefully needed - there was hardly enough strength in my hands to grip it. "Rather conveniently so. You are on record as being accidentally incinerated with the victims of the Sentox nerve gas release at CTU. So no, no one is looking for you, if that was your next question."

I remembered the nerve gas, remembered everything that had happened that day and closed my eyes with a shudder, letting him take the glass back from me. "What do you want from me?"

David leaned back in the chair, and I watch his eyes move over me, scrutinizing me, trying to read me. "I'm not quite sure yet. We'll have to see." He patted my shoulder lightly, standing. "I have some things to take care of, but we will speak more later. And Tony... I'm very sorry about what happened to your wife."

I felt a sharp stab of pain, and I knew it showed on my face, but I didn't care. "Don't you talk about Michelle," I growled, and perhaps it was my imagination, but he looked strangely pleased.

"Of course. My apologies." And with that he was gone, leaving me alone with only my sorrow.

~~~~~~~


It was days later when I next saw the man named David Emerson. I was stronger, strong enough that they'd locked me in the tiny room they were keeping me in, which seemed to be in some kind of a basement. It was secured very well, but I hadn't given up hope. If I could somehow, someway get some kind of message to Jack....

It was still a bit dizzying to stand for long periods of time, so I stayed perched on the side of the bed, looking up at him as he sat down, his guards locking the door behind him. "How are you, Tony?" he asked, which I didn't dignify with a reply.

"Where's Christopher Henderson?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"He's dead," David replied calmly, "Though he wasn't the one responsible for your wife's death. Not ultimately. Neither are we, just for the record. He simply hired us to recover you."

My head snapped up to look at him. "Tell me who."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He leaned back in his chair comfortably, what same little smile playing at the edges of his lips. "We have been watching you for some time, you know."

I found myself glaring at him. "Who's we?"

"Myself, and my men. I run a very specialized crew of mercenaries for hire. Highly trained, ex-special forces, that sort of thing. Men who have realized that working for money is more rewarding than working for the farce that is the American government."

I balked immediately. "I'm not interested."

"Don't be so quick to turn me down." He watched me carefully, keeping his voice and pose carefully neutral, but I could see the intelligence behind his eyes, and could tell that he was measuring me, scrutinizing me. It was a little unnerving. "I would be able to offer you significant compensation, if you were to work for me."

"I don't care about money," I replied harshly. "The only thing I want to do right now is lose myself at the bottom of a bottle until my damn liver gives out. Somehow I don't think that's the kind of man you want."

He looked as though he was considering my words, and nodded, reasonably. Then he reached into his jacket, and I caught a glimpse of a shoulder holster as he pulled out a pistol, offering it to me, grip first. "Go ahead, then."

I stared at it without moving, trying to figure out his game. "What?"

"If that's what you want, go ahead. A gun will be much faster and less painful than trying to destroy your liver. But it would be a bit of a shame if you killed yourself and left your pretty wife unavenged."

I clenched my jaw on a shudder of pain, glaring at him. "Don't you talk about her."

"It has to happen eventually, Tony. The way I see it, you have two choices. Either you can take this and end it now, or you can stop wallowing in your misery and use that energy, that raw pain and loss, to get the bastards who are responsible for her death. If you work for me, I'll give you the information I have, and the help and resources you'll need to uncover their conspiracy."

Part of me, the part that had been with CTU for years and years told me to take the gun from him, take him hostage, and get the hell out of the building. But I couldn't deny that there was something attractive about his words, something that resonated deep within me. I stared at the gun for a long moment. But I had to know for sure, before I made any decisions about anything. "What about Bauer? She died because they came after him. Because of him."

He chuckled. "Bauer was a pawn. He won't get in your way."

I felt a chill of fear run through me at the finality of his words, and masked it as anger, looking up at him. "Where. Is. Bauer?" It couldn't be what he was saying, Jack couldn't be dead, he couldn't....

"From what we can tell, they gave him to the Chinese government," David replied, words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Seems that when he came out of hiding, the people Henderson was working for tipped them off. But we can worry about Jack once we've taken care of the bigger picture. It's likely the Chinese will do the job for you."

I closed my eyes with a shudder despite myself, trying my hardest to keep my face calm despite the flood of agony inside. Jack wouldn't be coming for me. Jack was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

Suddenly the idea of vengeance didn't sound so bad after all.


~~~~~~~


Working for David Emerson was an experience that would have killed the old Tony. Part of it was the ethics of what we were doing - stealing, blackmailing, kidnapping, assasination. Traveling the seedy circles of the underworld and selling ourselves to the highest bidder. I had always been a man who was willing to do whatever was necessary to reach my aims, but working for David didn't have the same kind of results as interrogating a prisioner. Each job was only a step closer to where I wanted to be. But it was really the only choice I had, other than death, because they'd never let me walk away. I knew Jack would hate me for my choices. But the need for vengance was a stronger raison d'etre than I'd ever expected, so I pushed Jack's ethics out of my head.

A younger Tony would have probably been shot for insubordination within the first few weeks of meeting David Emerson. But I found I could be patient, obey him, act as I was supposed to, even if I still felt entirely numb doing so, felt like each action I made was mechanical. He was very intelligent, and I could respect that. And every so often, as we worked or planned, I would catch him watching me, calculatingly, mind churning behind those dark eyes of his. It disturbed me a little, one of the few emotions that cut through the pain other than my anger, my need to set things right.

Then one day his hand touched my shoulder, and his voice was soft and warm, approving. "Good work, Tony."

The unexpected kindness in the midst of all my sorrow was almost more than I could handle, and I jerked away from his touch almost instinctively, then tried to pretend it hadn't happened. "Thank you, sir."

He smiled, watching me carefully. "It's just David, Tony." He paused for a moment. "I'd like to talk about this job more with you. Come with me."

I finished the scenario I was working on, then logged out of the computer and stood, following him as he left the room, heading upstairs and out of the building. When he approached his car, I slowed, watching him warily. "Where are we going?"

"Home," David replied simply. "The others don't need to overhear what I have to say." He caught my skeptical look and smiled. "Tony, Tony, Tony... if I wanted to have you killed, I wouldn't need to drive off to some remote spot and whack you like a thug." He inclined his head towards the car. "Get in."

I sat quietly as he drove, mentally noting the route, more out of habit than anything else. David had a dozen places to stay, I was sure. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't have to be.

"I'm heading out the east coast next week, after this job is done," he told me as he drove. "I'd like you to come with me, and work with the team we have there." It made sense, to take me away from LA. Sever any remaining ties to my old life, lessen the chances of my being discovered. His next statement surprised me, though. "I want you to run things out there for me. When you're ready."

"Run things?" I repeated, wondering if I'd heard him clearly.

"It would be a poor business move not to utilize your background," he said plainly. "Your work experience at CTU makes you invaluable when it comes to planning and executing these scenarios as well keeping us under the govenrment's radar. It will also put you in the position to start to make contacts with our clients, to give you tools for when we work on finding the people who killed your wife."

"And when will that be?" My voice was bitter. He'd given me information, little bits and pieces added to what was common government knowledge about the Logan administration corruption, but it wasn't nearly enough for me to start finding anything on my own, and he knew it.

"All in good time." He was smiling a little, watching the road as he drove and not seeming to pay much attention to me, though I knew it was completely the opposite. "I'm still not convinced I can trust you, rely on you. That will take time."

I bit my tongue on an angry retort. I'd have to keep playing his game, if I wanted to get anywhere, and he knew it.

We parked at a tiny apartment building just outside of downtown, the kind with only two units per floor, which looked just dilapidated enough to avoid unwanted attention. I followed him inside, and up the stairs to an open loft, which was clean and well kept, dominated by a pair of desks with what looked like surveillance equipment and a couple of laptops. There was a tattered leather sofa, and out of the way in the corner, a mattress with several brightly coloured throws on it.

"Would you like a beer, Tony?" He glanced over his shoulder at me from the refridgerator, as if sensing my discomfort at standing here.

I nodded. I'd hardly touched alcohol since I'd found Michelle again, since the day Jack forged his death. But now seemed like a more than a good time to do so. "Yeah. Thanks."

He smiled, opening two cans and pouring them into glasses, standing at the island with me in the little kitchenette and sipping his, giving me a run down on the men he had in the east coast, details on their backgrounds, their tells, their ties to the business. "Most of them are just in it for the money," he noted, as I finished the beer. "As much as I very much appreciate a well paying job, it makes me a bit nervous to put someone in charge with intentions that are purely monetary. You have other motivations." He eyed my empty glass as I set it down. "Would you like another?"

"Please," I replied, rather wishing I could get ingloriously drunk, even knowing that it would likely be a bad idea. Still, one more wouldn't cause any issues.

He took my glass and refilled it from another can, then continued to talk, watching me closely. At first I thought he was measuring my intelligence, my reactions to the information, but as I finished the second glass, I started began to realize that I was feeling much more drunk than I should be, limbs warm and heavy, vision starting to blur, slight vertigo moving the room around me.

"Are you all right?" David asked, watching me with a little smile playing around his lips, and I tried my best to glare at him.

"What did you give me?" I growled, and his smile widened a little.

"Nothing damaging, don't worry. Just something to help you relax."

"I don't need anything," I shot back, trying to focus on my anger, to let it sharpen my senses. I half stumbled over to the door, feet like lead, fumbling with the lock, only to have David pull my hands away.

"I can't let you leave, Tony. You'll fall down the stairs."

"Bastard," I spat, but even my words were fumbled, slurred. "How did you...."

"The drug is a clear liquid that can be painted on any surface," he replied, not seeming to care about revealing his methods. He pulled my arm around his shoulders and started to half-carry me across the room. "It has a bitter taste to it, but that's easily masked by alcohol. I recommend drinking from the can next time, and cleaning the top before you do."

"Fuck off," I muttered, half slurred, and he chuckled softly.

"I'll forgive you for that," he said, and somewhere in the haze I was aware that we'd reached the bed I'd seen before. He guided me down to sit, but by this point I wasn't entirely in control of my body, and flopped backward onto the mattress.

"What... you want..." I swallowed, tongue feeling somehow thick and clumsy in my mouth, and closed my eyes to keep from looking at the spinning ceiling above me. I was vaguely aware of being pulled up further to stretch out on the bed, and my shoes being taken off.

David perched beside me, leaning over me, fingers brushing back a curl of my hair from my forehead. "Should really shave this off, as pretty as it is. You're too recognizable, and too prissy. Need to dirty you up a bit."

The tiny bit of me that was still sober wondered why the hell he'd drugged me just to shave my hair off, but then things became clear as I felt him lean down, one hand holding my face in place as he claimed my lips with his own.

I hadn't wanted to touch anyone, to be touched by anyone, after Michelle died, after Jack was taken away. But my limbs were sleepy and unresponsive under the drug, and my lips parted to David's kisses, yielding to him, to the touch that slowly stripped me of my shirt, the hands that ran over my chest and shoulders and sides, teasing me, slowly arousing me. He had stretched out against my side and pressed a thigh between my legs, rocking it against me ever slowly as his kisses grew deeper, as his hands stroked over my chest, pinched a nipple almost painfully hard, and even though I felt like I had little to no control over myself, I could still feel, and that I could definitely feel, a sharp rush of arousal straight to my cock.

"Stop," I managed to gasp, trying to wrestle enough control to get away, hands catching clumsily at him, trying to push him back, but they slipped off his shoulders too easily, and I realized with a sickening lurch that fighting was futile. "Please... don't...."

"Just relax," he murmured, hips grinding a little harder against mine as he nipped lightly at my bottom lip, and I gasped despite myself at the rush of sensation, something he seemed to appreciate very much. "That's better... don't worry about a thing, and you'll enjoy this just as much as I will."

My breath caught in almost a sob, but I clamped down hard on it, unwilling to let him see any more weakness in me. Then I tried to relax, tried to let the drug take away my conscious thought, let my mind float away in the warmth and darkness and waves of sensation. I could do it, if I didn't think about it. That was a little easier, and my body responded naturally, letting him kiss me and even responding, arching up against him clumsily, grinding back against the hips that were pressed to mine, straining achingly hard against my jeans.

Somewhere in the warmth, my belt was being unbuckled, pants and shorts tugged past my hips and off. Mouth on my stomach, then pressed to the head of my aching erection, sucking me in, hot and wet, and my mind remembered a deep, perfectly shaped cupids bow, remembered the way Jack's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as his lips wrapped around my cock. "Jack...."

But it was David's voice that cut through the fog, seconds after the heat pulled from my cock, and it jolted me back to reality in panic. He sounded almost amused. "Hm, so the rumor was true. You miss him, Tony?" I felt his tongue run up the underside of my erection, then a hard, rough pain invading my ass, slowly pressing deeper, making me cry out helplessly.

"God - !"

"Just relax..." his voice, soothing, sucking at my head as his finger continued to work at me, firm and relentless, soon being joined by another. They were well lubed, but this just wasn't something I did, something I'd ever done. Even under the heady influence of the drug, it was hard to relax, hard to push back the quickly growing fear. I was helpless here, entirely at his mercy, just like I was in any other matter now.

"Please," I managed to gasp, the word sounding slurred even to my own ears, crying out despite myself as the pressure grew, as his fingers moved faster, so thick that I was sure I couldn't handle anything more. "David..."

"That's better." His voice was approving, and somehow it soothed me, the drug taking hold again as the fear subsided a little, the pain lessening.

He pulled away, pulling a soft hiss from my lips as the pressure left, leaving behind a strange sense of loss. Then I was being manhandled, my knees pushed up on either side of my chest, and I felt the head of his cock press firmly against me, warm and hard but not moving further. I felt his fingers wrap around my cock, stroking slowly. "Tony. Tony, look at me."

I struggled to turn my head, to look up at him. "Don't... don't do this...."

His fingers tightened a little, stroking me more firmly, making me shudder despite myself. "Do you want to please me, Tony?"

"David...."

"You know what I'm offering. You know it's the only way to get what you want. But I have to know that you're loyal to me." He ran the pad of his thumb over the head of my cock, slowly slicking it with my precum, and I gasped.

"I can't...."

"You can, and you can do this. Do you want to please me, Tony?"

I let my eyes fall closed again. It was too difficult to keep them open, my lids were too heavy. It was too shameful. But I felt my lips part as he continued to stroke, heard myself whisper the answer he wanted. "Yes."

Fuck, it hurt. If I'd thought his fingers were invasive, this was worse, the thickness of the flared head of his cock penetrating me, pushing hard and deep regardless of whether or not I was ready for it. Sharp flares of pain burst hot up my spine, cutting through the sleepiness of the drug, and I was crying out before I could even attempt to stop myself. I might have been able to handle the penetration on its own, but the shame of this broke me, that this was being taken from me with little more consent than my lip service, taken by him, when I'll I'd ever wanted was Jack, even if he'd never asked for this. This shouldn't be anyone but Jack. And yet Jack was gone, half a world away, sacrificed to pain and torture and quite likely death by a corruption deeper than I could even fathom. One that I couldn't even hope to uncover on my own. And if I couldn't uncover it, I'd never avenge him, never avenge my sweet Michelle... or my son.

So I let David Emerson fuck me.

When I thought that it couldn't possibly get any more intense, he stopped, holding still as I gasped for breath, his fingers still stroking me slowly, voice warm and approving "Good... you're doing just fine. Just relax and you'll enjoy it." In that moment I couldn't possibly imagine doing either, and I must have whimpered, for he shushed me softly, free hand slipping down to knead slowly at my ass. It helped, and I wondered a little at his patience as my body started to slowly adjust to his invasion, slowly relaxing, though I could feel my muscles shuddering around him.

"Please," I gasped, though I wasn't sure myself what I was asking for other than possibly to just get it over with. I heard a little approving noise, and he started to rock slowly against me, just moving a little. Gradually the pain began to settle into throbs of mere discomfort, and through the haze I could focus more on what his hand was doing, on firm, slow strokes up and down my cock. Without realizing, I was groaning, rocking with his slow thrusts, drawing breath in sharp gasps.

"That's it...." He gave a slightly harder thrust, and suddenly the rough ache of discomfort became a hot pulse of pleasure, of pressure, and I cried out, hearing him chuckle softly, pleased, and continue. It was agonizing and delicious all at once, and if I'd been in a more sober state I wouldn't have been so caught off guard - after all, it was the mechanics of it, wasn't it? Why Jack had enjoyed having me fuck him? But in this state, my mind blanked, and the fact that I liked this, that I wanted more, that hurt more than anything else had so far, like I was even betraying myself in this act - betraying my heart, my wife, betraying Jack.

"David - !" I gasped, but he continued, bucking deep into me, my pleasure leaving my lips in whimpering cries with each thrust, and even if I'd been able to, I couldn't have pulled away, couldn't ask him to stop. Couldn't stop the hard pulses of pleasure that shuddered through me, couldn't stop my body from craving release. It seemed somehow timeless, perhaps because of the drug, or perhaps because I just wanted it to end so badly, but the rhythm of his hips continued, hard and fast and unforgiving, on and on until reaching climax was a desperate need. I was shuddering, pleasure hard and surging deep inside me, and I cried for it, begged for him to let me come. I rode the edge for a few hard thrusts before he finally let me fall, bucking up against him as climax shuddered through me, harder and more overwhelming than I'd ever had before, the intensity of it driving tears from my eyes.

He didn't stop, bucking hard and deep into me, and I heard him moaning -something-, though I couldn't make it out. I was still entirely overwhelmed by my own climax, feeling almost agonizingly stimulated as he thrust a few more times, rocking deep before groaning out his own orgasm, spilling hot and slick deep inside me.

I managed to hold back the sobs, but not the tears, and I felt him pull back slowly, stretching out beside me, lips gentle on my face as he caught his breath. His voice soothing. "You were wonderful. Let the emotion out if you need to. Leave it behind, so you can move on. So you can get what you want."

I struggled to turn my face away from him, not wanting to process what had happened, or anything about this day. "Don't pretend that this... was supposed to help me." I managed to gasp, faintly trembling with the effort of holding everything back.

"It has," David murmured, voice gentle and warm. "You've pleased me very much, Tony. Never underestimate the power of that kind of alliance. Besides that...." His hand smoothed over my chest slowly. "You're not the type of person that can survive loneliness. You needed that." A soft kiss pressed just below my ear, his voice lowering a little more. "I don't think I'll need the drug next time."

It was true, and I hated that he knew it. My self control broke down into shivering sobs, and when he wrapped his arms around me, pressed his lips to my hair, I let him, let him hold me until my sobs faded and the drug urged me into sleep.


~~~~~~~

My head ached the next morning, pounding from what I assumed was the aftermath of the drug and the sunlight that streamed through the high windows of the loft. It was all too vivid in my memory, what had happened the night before, and I was torn between hating him for what he'd done, and loathing myself for enjoying it.

He'd pulled a blanket over me sometime in the night, and I kept still under it for a long moment, trying to feel more sure of myself, to figure out where my clothes had gone, to figure out where Emerson was. I glanced over to find him sitting at the tiny kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He was wearing a bathrobe, which was tied around his waist but hung open enough that it was fairly apparent that he was still naked underneath as well.

"Good morning, Tony," he said without looking up from the paper, apparently somehow sensing my consciousness.

I ignored him and tried to sit up slowly, hissing as the movement increased the ache in my core from being fucked. "Dammit...."

"It will be easier on you next time," He remarked, glancing over at me, eyes traveling slowly over my form in a manner that was completely unmistakable. Then he turned his attention to the table beside the bed, where I saw a small bottle of lubricant. "Tony," He said simply, softly. "Come here. Bring that to me."

I felt a helpless shiver of desire stir in the base of my stomach and swallowed hard, then picked up the bottle and went to David.

~~~~FIN~~~~