This takes place during the confrontation between Jack and Tony in 7x22. This first chapter shows Jack's thoughts during that scene, and the second chapter will show the same scene from Tony's perspective, if I can ever figure out what's going through his messed up head right now.

Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, do you think Tony would have become an evil two-faced psychopath?

"See you on the other side," I had said to Tony when he dropped me off at the White House last night. At the time I had no idea that he was already on the other side, that he had been on the other side for years and was just using me to achieve his objectives. Looking back now, I should have known. I should have realized that things weren't quite adding up.

Deep down I think I did know it, but I had pushed away my suspicions because I didn't want to believe them. I didn't want to believe that my friend whom I once trusted with my life would betray me. I didn't want to believe that my friend who had once served his country with as much dedication as anyone I knew could turn against everything and everyone he once fought for.

The truth is, there's a part of me that still doesn't want to believe it. Despite all the evidence staring me in the face, part of me still doesn't want to accept that my friend has turned into the cold, soulless man sitting in front of me. But right now, I don't have any choice. As I told Chloe earlier, I can't think of him as my friend. I have to treat him like an enemy combatant and focus on stopping him from carrying out this threat.

"Where is it?" I demand, punching him in the face. I punch him again before he has the chance to answer, telling him I'm not going to stop until he tells me where the canister is. No response. I keep punching him and punching him, even though deep down I know that no matter how many times I punch him he's not going to talk.

I think back to yesterday afternoon in the hospital, when Renee slapped me and asked if I could still feel anything. Now, as I keep punching Tony, all I want to do is ask him the same thing. I want to know if he felt anything for the 30 or so FBI agents he instructed Galvez to blow up or the two he callously gunned down himself. I want to know if he felt even a twinge of guilt as he watched Renee uncover Larry's dead body. I want to know if it bothers him that because of his betrayal, Bill had to give up his life and my daughter had to see me dying. I want to know if he knows how much his betrayal hurts, or if he even cares.

"Why did you betray me?" I ask him, unable to conceal the pain in my voice. He just stares at me. Maybe I see a glint of shame in his eyes, but I'm probably just seeing what I want to see.

"Why?" I ask again, my voice sounding almost desperate at this point. Again, no answer. Overcome with anger, I step back and raise my gun to his head.

"I have nothing left to lose," I tell him coldly. "You either tell me where the canister is or so help me g-d I will lay you down right here right now."

It is now that Tony opens his mouth to speak for the first time. "You think I've got anything left to lose, Jack?" he asks with a chuckle. Something about the way he says it knocks me off my game and induces a wave of nausea. I don't want to admit to myself that I understand how he feels, and I don't want to remember that it's because of me that he lost everything in the first place.

"Do it," he says softly, his voice full of resignation and despair. My hand shakes as I prepare to pull the trigger. I stare deep into his eyes to see if he is serious. He nods, his eyes almost urging me to put him out of his misery.

Maybe that's why I can't do it. Maybe I feel like I'd be letting him off easy, and he doesn't deserve that after everything he's done. But I know there's another reason I can't bring myself to kill him. I can't bring myself to give up on him again.

As much as I don't want to admit it, the truth is, I gave up on him five years ago. When I found him on the floor of the clinic at CTU after Henderson injected him with poison I didn't try as hard as I could to save him. It wasn't a conscious decision, but deep down I knew that after everything he'd been through he wouldn't be able to get through it. He had already lost everything once, and I knew he didn't have the strength to pick up the pieces and rebuild his life a second time. His final words were "she's gone, Jack," and I took that as his way of asking me to let him die in peace. After everything I'd taken from him I guess I thought I owed him that much. When he closed his eyes I urged him to hang on, but when I felt his body grow limp in my arms I didn't have the heart to try to revive him. As much as I hate to admit it, the truth is that as sad as I was to lose him, when I thought he was dead part of me felt relieved, relieved that he would be spared the pain of losing Michelle, a pain I knew all too well.

I've been replaying what I thought were his final moments in my head for the past 24 hours, since I first found out he was still alive, wondering if I had known earlier if there's anything I could have done. I try to tell myself that it wouldn't have made a difference. He probably blamed me for Michelle's death, and by the time I got back from China he was probably too far gone. But part of me still believes I could have gotten through to him, and there's a part of me that believes I can get through to him now, despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite the stoic expression on his face I can tell that I'm getting to him.

I tell myself that it doesn't matter. I know that it's too late to make a difference even if I could get through to him. Even if I can make him think twice about his actions it won't bring back the people he's killed or undo the damage he's done. I'm dying and Tony's going to spend the rest of his life in jail and probably face the death penalty. As his friend, part of me wants to pull the trigger right now and spare him all that. Even though he betrayed me, I still feel responsible for what happened to him, and part of me thinks I owe him that much.

But I can't do it. I can't bring myself to pull the trigger. I lower my weapon and concede defeat.

I continue to stare at Tony, only half-hearing Agent Walker when she tells me that they found Jibraan. I know that I need to focus, that stopping the canister from going off is the priority. But I can't tear my eyes away from Tony, unable to kill him because I need to know what happened to him.

Deep down, I know what happened to him. I don't know how they brainwashed him into thinking that killing innocent civilians was the right thing to do, but I understand why he's able to kill without feeling anything. I understand that once he committed himself to the mission he trained himself not to care. He trained himself not to feel anything, because it was the only way he could numb himself to the pain he was feeling. He became consumed by his anger because it was easier to be angry and hungry for revenge than to deal with the sheer emptiness that came with waking up every day and realizing that the person he loved more than anything in the world was gone forever.

I look at Tony now and it scares me to think I could have gone down the same path. When Teri was murdered I gave up on serving my country for a while. When I was undercover with the Salazars there were times when I found myself shooting up more than I needed to to maintain my cover, and there were times when I felt myself crossing the line between being undercover and becoming a part of their world of drugs, sex and greed. Times when their world seemed a lot easier and more appealing than mine. But I still had Kim to worry about. I still had a link to humanity. Tony didn't have that.

Stop it, I scold myself. I don't want to feel sympathy for him. I can't let myself empathize with him, not if I want to stop him from killing innocent people. I tell myself that Tony and I have nothing in common, not anymore.

But deep down, I know that's not true. I may not have made the same choices he made, and I can't imagine I would ever get to the point where I could kill innocent people as callously as he has. But the truth is, I've felt the same anger and resentment that led him down this path. I've felt the same sense of abandonment by the government I spent my life serving. Just like Tony, I've hardened myself to innoculate myself against the pain.

As much as I'd like to deny it, deep down I know that Tony's not the only one who gave up a piece of his humanity. I guess that's why I can't give up on him now, why I have to believe that there's some humanity left in him in spite of everything he's done. Tony and I may be on opposite sides now, but we've felt the same pain and faced the same struggles, and deep down I know that if I give up on him, I'm giving up on myself.