Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or 24.

My first fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it! Please r/r!

This takes place on Day 7 right after Alan Wilson is captured. I added a little scene between Jack and Tony before Jack goes to the hospital. Jack was not there when Tony explained why he hunted down Alan Wilson. This is how I imagined Jack finding out. Day 7 SPOILERS! Jack/Tony

Jack stood outside the interrogation room watching his best friend through the glass, hoping he could make some sense everything. He knew how Tony would be, at the very least, in prison for the rest of his life for his terrorist activities today. He watched Tony as he sat in chains, his head hung – defeated. Strangely, amidst his fury, compassion overwhelmed Jack. A lump formed in his throat as he considered the previous day. His best friend, who had died in his arms years ago, was in fact alive. Not only was he alive, the blood of hundreds of innocent Americans was on his hands. Jack rubbed his forehead in utter wonderment and despair. 'Why, Tony? Why?' He had to speak to Tony. The anger surged within Jack – Tony, his best friend, had betrayed him. He could not kill him. But he did not understand. Knowing his death was imminent, Jack's last wish was to talk to this man whom he had entrusted his own life with. It was in the president's hands.

A stabbing pain nearly brought Jack to his knees. It was worsening and the medication was beginning to fade. Quickly he pulled the syringe out of his kit and gave himself a shot. He willed for it to work just long enough to find his answers, if Madame President granted his requests. The pain subsided and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He was almost out of time; he had to speak to Tony.

"Mr. Bauer," an agent finally called. Jack looked over at the agent. He had a sense of confidence about him; one that Jack had long forgotten. It was much in contrast to Jack's beaten soul. "The president has agreed to your wishes, sir." Jack sighed in angst and nodded. The agent led him into the room. It reminded him of the prison in China, in a way -- dark, dreary and dismal. Jack slowly stepped in and forced those memories away. He wanted with all his might to beat Tony, to beat sense into him. But now that Jack was in the room, he could hear Tony sobbing quietly. His heart wrenched. He wanted to comfort his friend, but he could not. This man was no longer his friend. This man betrayed him, his country, everyone he ever loved. All he needed was to find out why. Why.

Jack cautiously stepped in front of Tony, who was chained at his hands and feet. Tony saw him and audibly gasped. "Tony," Jack barely whispered as he knelt in front of him. Tony let out a groan at the sound of his despicable name. He looked away refusing to make any contact. He could not bear to face Jack. No, not Jack. Jack had been the most loyal friend. Even though avenging Michelle's death was all that kept him going, now that it was done he could not face that he betrayed his best friend. Jack would do anything to get the job done, he knew that. But Jack never once betrayed his friends. Now this man knelt before him while he sat in chains.

"Tony," Jack's voice broke. Tony shook his head as if he would make Jack disappear. His wounded arms and his chains prevented any movement so he could not push Jack away. "Tony, look at me." Jack glared at him. Tony felt it. "Look at me." His voice was surprisingly gentle. Jack fought back the tears as Tony finally made eye contact with him. The two stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Jack studied Tony for any trace of his best friend, for any kind of reason for Tony's actions. Tony looked at Jack wishing Jack could save him, that Jack could make everything right again.

Jack gripped Tony's shoulder. "Jack," Tony sobbed at his friend's touch.

"Tony, talk to me," Jack whispered, tightening the grip on his shoulder as it shook with sobs. "Tony, why?" Jack's voice shaky. Tony shook his head. "Why?" Tony refused to answer. Even though he knew Jack had suffered a similar loss and so much more, he would never involve himself in terrorists' plots for revenge. He could not answer.

Frustrated, Jack stood up and grabbed Tony by the throat. Tony wounded arms screamed; he had no way to defend himself. "You betrayed me!" Jack yelled, just two inches from Tony's face. Tony grunted in pain and refused to look at him. "Why did you betray me! You killed hundreds of innocent people, Tony! This is not you! Why, Tony, why!" Tears threatened. The fury overwhelmed Tony. He knew he had betrayed his best friend and his country, and he had to answer for it.

"He killed Michelle," his small voice strained. He looked into Jack's ferocious eyes. "She was carrying my son, Jack." Jack's breath caught in his throat. He felt Tony's tears fall on his hands as he loosened his grip. "He…he killed my son." Tony was desperate for some understanding from Jack; for Jack to condone his actions. "You understand this, Jack!"

Jack released Tony with a groan. He turned away to catch his breath. Flashbacks tormented him as he remembered when he found Teri's body. She had also been pregnant. I'm so sorry, Teri. I'm so sorry! Anger stirred as the memories resurfaced. The memories he had stored away. He had avenged Teri's death. Nina was dead at his hands. Of course he understood! He had done the same thing in his own way. Tony was no different than he was. Jack had no words. He wanted to yell at and beat Tony, but he could not. He knew that Tony did not betray him. For a second, he wanted to tell his friend that it was okay – but it wasn't. He could not condone Tony's actions. A sob escaped his throat at what had become of his friend. The man was broken. He wasn't the only one; Jack was utterly disgusted at what he himself had become. And now he was dying. Just a few hours left to live, all for nothing. His loved ones gone, his best friend destroyed. Jack wiped his tearstained face and turned back to Tony. He felt desperate. Wanting to fix everything for both of them, but he could not. Jack knelt in front of Tony and pulled him into a hug. Surprised, Tony resisted slightly. Realizing he was in no condition to fight, Tony buried his face into Jack's shoulder and wailed. Jack held him tightly, with all his might, as he gave into his own grief.

Both men, mourning their losses and their lives, sat in that cold interrogation room weeping. Their lives had taken such different trails, but at heart they were the same. Both had lost their families, both avenged their deaths. Both men were broken and inconsolable. They wept together; they understood each other. Both of their lives were over. Both lives wasted. Both lives shattered.