written by Anya
Author's disclaimer: All the characters in
this story belong to LFN Productions. They are being used without
permission, but no copyright infringement is intended.
This story assumes knowledge of the first three episodes of the
third season; you may want to watch them before reading it. This
was begun before the third episode of the Third season opening
trilogy aired. It contains spoilers for the episodes
"Looking for Michael," "Someone Else's
Shadow," and "Opening Night Jitters."
*** indicates a change in point of view; ~~~ indicates a lapse of
time
God! Nikita was exhausted just thinking about the ramifications of this mission. Did Michael love Adam and Elena too much to let go? She knew in her heart that he cared deeply for Elena, but what he felt for Adam... was... fundamental. Nikita was afraid that when the mission was over... and he had to walk away from the boy, Michael's fragile grasp of his own soul would snap. She wanted to cry for all four of them... Elena... herself... Adam... and most particularly... for Michael.
Nikita escaped to her own apartment for the afternoon. She had to get away from Elena's home (somehow, she couldn't bring herself to call it Michael's home). The atmosphere there was intense. Since they'd come back from the unfulfilled meet with Elena's father, Nikita couldn't bear to watch Michael interact with Adam. To Nikita, there was a desperateness in Michael's actions.
She was also acutely aware her eyes spoke volumes now whenever she watched Michael and Adam. She was concerned that Elena might discover the truth about her relationship' with Michael. Somehow Elena had perceived Nikita's importance in Michael's life, but thank god, she hadn't recognized it for what it really was.
She felt guilty about having to lie to Elena. She really liked Elena, but Nikita knew that as soon as Vachek was eliminated, she and Michael would be out of Elena and Adam's lives... forever. And that the separation was going to be exceedingly painful for all concerned.
So on the pretext of a possible job interview, she escaped Elena's watchful eyes.
***
Michael wasn't sure how much more he could endure. It had
been a very long mission. Now they were close to getting Vachek
and Michael was trying to prepare himself for the anguish he knew
he would suffer when he would be forced to leave Elena and Adam.
In his own way he loved Elena... not like he had loved Simone...
and certainly not like he loved Nikita... but he did care for her
very much and didn't want to cause her unnecessary pain.
What was causing him sleepless nights, though, was the thought of losing Adam. If he'd realized in the beginning exactly how hard it was going to be, he'd have... have... what? Told Madeline and Operations he couldn't do it?... not let Elena have the baby Section had denied him and Simone?
Simone had died not knowing about Adam. She'd known about Elena and the mission, but Glass Curtain had grabbed her before Elena had gotten pregnant. And Adam hadn't even crossed his mind in the few minutes he was reunited with Simone before she had incinerated Glass Curtain's underground installation.
He remembered, with shame, how he had used Elena during those first few months after Simone's death'. He'd gone through the motions of "making love" to her then... but his heart certainly wasn't in it. If Elena noticed anything, she'd kept her thoughts to herself.
Then Nikita had come into Section and it had been as if Simone punched his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "She's the one... she's the one you need... she'll be the one to replace me." At first he had resisted. He'd been afraid that he was deprecating Simone's memory... that it was his own desire pushing him toward Nikita. It wasn't until the war with Red Cell that he'd realized that Simone' was right. He'd had to confront his feelings for Nikita. And he'd fought those feelings everyday. Until Nikita's death' a year ago.
While he was unsure if Nikita was alive and safe somewhere or had been blown to pieces, he'd again been moody and distant with Elena. Again, she'd been amazingly patient with him. But during those six months... until Lyon... his only real island of comfort had been Adam.
In many ways, Adam reminded him of Nikita. Certainly not in his coloring or looks... his dark hair and eyes... his skin... a beautiful blend of his Indian and French heritages. No, it was his mannerisms... his dependency on Michael... that had, almost from the first, seemed so like Nikita. Every time Michael peeked in as Adam slept, he noted the way the child lay sprawled across the bed... like Nikita. Adam tilted his head at exactly the same angle as Nikita when he wanted something from Michael. And most unnerving of all, Adam demanded Michael open his heart at the most inopportune moments... just like Nikita.
And now, he was going to lose them all. He knew Nikita liked Elena. He also knew she loved Adam... if not entirely for Adam's own sake as an innocent child, then as an extension of himself. And he sincerely believed Nikita was going to take the separation from Elena and Adam almost as hard as he was himself. But with all the furor over Nikita's actions before, during, and after the business with Adrian, Michael knew Operations and Madeline would probably keep them both on short leashes. He would probably not get the opportunity to console her. Maybe Walter... or Birkoff...
***
"Nikita called," Elena said brightly, as Michael
entered the house. She continued, as she hung his overcoat in the
hall closet, "Her contact... I think she said his name was
Birkoff... turned out to be a good one she said. We're not
to expect her home tonight. She said she thought she'd be
out very late and she didn't want to drive all the way back
here with the chance of waking us up when she did come in. So she
took a room at the hotel where she stayed before. She hoped that
would be okay with us."
They walked together into the kitchen where Elena was preparing dinner. Michael glanced into the backyard for a moment to watch Adam play. Elena stirred the contents of the saucepan and said with a wry grin, "I must confess, I'm a little curious about this Birkoff' fellow. Has she ever mentioned him to you? Do you think she'll be okay? I mean, I know she's grown woman, but in many ways she's such an innocent. Except for us, she is alone in the world." Her eyes lifted from the pan and searched Michael's face for reassurance. Apparently, what she saw there satisfied her.
Michael opened the refrigerator and removed items for a salad. He'd been astonished at Elena's assessment of Nikita, but he should have known... after living with her for four years... that Elena was very perceptive about people. How he managed to keep the real reason for their marriage a secret, he never understood.
As he began preparing the salad he said, "Nikita will be fine. As you say, she is a grown up." He grinned at Elena, recognizing what she was really asking, "And, yes, she has spoken to me of Birkoff. She met him a few years ago... he's a friend, nothing more. I imagine they are wining and dining' the head of one of those fashion houses tonight and that's why she didn't want to come all the way back here so late." Michael forced himself to keep his tone light and unconcerned. "You can stop worrying about her. Nikita can take care of herself."
"I'm not worried really... it's just that I can tell something's bothering her," Elena said, suddenly serious. She gazed absently at the plates on the counter. "I know she was upset when my father didn't show up to meet us." Michael look at her quizzically and she continued, "She's hasn't said anything but her eyes... her body language... tell me she's afraid of something... or someone. I notice her watching you... or Adam... or even me, and it's as if she's seeing something terribly sad."
Michael sensed Elena's distress about Nikita. He realized that in the short time Elena had known Nikita, a bond had developed between them... the kind of bond Elena'd had with her mother. The kind of bond Nikita had truly never known with a woman her own age. And he knew it would be impossible for that bond to continue when the mission was over.
Changing the subject, Elena said merrily, "Go away and play with Adam while I finish in here. Dinner will be ready very shortly."
Michael grinned as he leaned over to kiss her. Before turning toward the french doors to the yard he gave her a mock salute, saying, "Oui, mon capitaine!"
***
Nikita was dozing in her living room when her cellphone roused
her. She'd meditated earlier to calm herself so it took a
few moments for the ringing to pierce her subconscious. When she
did wake, she instinctively knew who would be on the other end.
"Josephine."
"Yeah," she answered, flipped the phone shut and moved into the bedroom to change. Thirty minutes later she walked into Comm looking for Michael. Birkoff was there, scooting from one computer to another. It was odd that Michael wasn't there to meet her. When she asked Birkoff what was going on, the only intel he could give her was that three more terrorist incidents had been correlated to Vachek. She talked with him a few minutes, gathering what little information he had about Michael's mission.
Minutes later, Michael appeared at the edge of Comm and called, "Nikita." She moved over to him. She hadn't seen him in almost a week... he looked exhausted. She'd called Elena after her late night' to tell her she'd gotten the job with the fashion house and that they had an apartment available for her to move into right away. Elena had volunteered to help her move in and decorate, but Nikita politely -- but firmly -- turned her down. Since then, she hadn't had face-to-face contact with Michael or Elena.
Her eyes flew open when Michael told her why she'd been called in. She was stunned! They wanted him to do WHAT?!?! Poison'... Elena?!?! Inside, Nikita was raging and crying all at once. Why? WHY? Please don't make him do this... and don't make me watch! This would kill him! Not physically, no, but his soul would have small chance of surviving. Didn't they know what they were going to do to him?
Numbly, she followed Michael to Walter's station to pick up the poison and her monitoring device. While she listened with half her mind to what Walter was saying, she continued her inner railing against Operations and Madeline.
Suddenly she had a bone-chilling revelation. They knew exactly what they were doing to Michael... and to her. This was revenge. There was no other word to describe what Operations, with Madeline's apparent approval, was engineering. They were disciplining' Michael for his interference'.
It's all my fault! she raged inside. If she hadn't gone looking for Michael when she realized Operations was trying to cancel her... none of this would have happened! She probably would have never have met Elena and Adam... never even heard about them until it was all over.
Nikita continued her mental firestorm as Michael took the vial from Walter. There must be dozens of ways besides this to force a meeting with Vachek, she thought. If they're so set on poisoning Elena, surely there is some other way to administer it without involving Michael anymore than he is already! Make me do it! It's my fault! Nikita knew that, no matter how the end result was achieved, Michael was going to be devastated. They don't have to kick him when he's down! It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from tearing up the stairs and cancelling Operations with her bare hands!
Finally, she managed to control her internal struggle enough to pay closer attention to Michael. She could see the personal war he was waging simply by the set of his shoulders... the way his eyes darted from one thing to another, rarely resting on any object for more than a second. The only things he watched for any length of time were Nikita... and the vial. He stared bleakly at her with fear and self-loathing.
He stared at the small, clear tube with despair.
***
He'd half expected Nikita to go ballistic when he told her,
and was consequently very proud of her outward composure. He
looked into her eyes as he explained Operations' and
Madeline's reasons for poisoning Elena now, his eyes mutely
pleading for her help and support. Those eyes, twin pools of sky
blue, were the only things about Nikita that revealed the shock
and horror his words generated. In her face and posture both he
saw her outrage at Operations and Madeline. It heartened him
somewhat that in her eyes he could also perceived her undying
support for him as well. He subconsciously thanked her for
controlling her rage. He knew he could count on her.
Now... if he could just do his job.
~~~
Throughout dinner, Michael had tried to keep his mind on the
mission in play. But the mission' distressed him.
He'd had to pretend to be happy. They were supposed to be
celebrating Nikita's new job and apartment. But all
he'd been able to think about was what he was about to do to
Elena. And Elena hadn't helped matters any... she'd
looked so beautiful... so full of life! Everything she'd
said brought back dozens of memories of the past four years.
Focus!!
Finally signaling for Nikita to distract Adam, Michael had managed to dose Elena's wine. But when she'd put the glass to her lips, his hand had seemed to act of its own volition, knocking it from her hand, spilling its drugged contents on the pristine linen tablecloth.
Michael knew he could count on one hand the few times he'd been unable to complete his mission. This one was added to that list.
~~~
Needless to say, his interview with Madeline when he returned to
Section had been painful. He knew that whatever Section
couldn't do to him now because of the situation with Vachek,
they would do as soon as possible. And the waiting would only
make it worse.
Madeline really shouldn't have been surprised by his actions. This time, though, she'd pushed the wrong button... unless they really wanted him to rebel. The possibility was mesmerizing. This wasn't the original profile. Why was it changed? Why are they punishing me? Are they doing this to me because I stopped Operations' plan to cancel Nikita? That has to be it. Operations and Madeline had come too close to the fire of George's wrath over Adrian. They'd been singed by the heat and they intended to exact full retribution on all parties involved.
There was another factor influencing Michael's behavior that Madeline might have recognized had she delved deep enough into his soul. It was something Michael only recently had allowed himself to acknowledge. Nikita and her steadfast beliefs in free will and the sanctity of innocent life were intoxicating. He'd drunk deep of her heady elixir and had been surprised by the stirring of life he'd felt in that part of his soul he'd thought was lifeless.
Yes, Nikita was starting to rub off on him... whether he liked it or not.
***
She'd gotten through dinner, but it hadn't been easy.
She'd come close to tears every time she'd looked at
Elena or Michael. Keeping the conversation light and casual had
been a monumental task since Michael had always seemed
distracted.
Nikita's first impulse when Michael had knocked Elena's glass out of her hand, had been to cheer. Her second, and even more powerful, desire had been to put her head down on the table and weep uncontrollably. She knew exactly what Michael was in for. How many times had she acted contrary to the mission parameters? How many times had Madeline told her, we serve a greater good' at the end of a mission? And how many times had she come close to abeyance because of her actions?
Michael's debrief would be intense, she was sure.
***
He didn't know what woke him.
Michael shifted in bed and realized Elena wasn't there. When he sat up, he heard her... coughing, in the adjoining bathroom. She lifted her face as he entered and he knew... Section had gotten to her... somehow. It must have been while he was away on the mission to debrief' Vachek's henchman. A mission that simple didn't need a class five operative.
~~~
Michael stood in the hospital waiting room... waiting. He was as
lost as the doctors about what was preying on Elena. He
wasn't privy to Section's decision concerning what
poison to use. When Nikita arrived he had a slight tremor of fear
that Section had used her to poison Elena. But one look at her
face convinced him that she wasn't guilty of that. She told
him that Madeline had sent her to tell him to stay at the
hospital in case Vachek showed up.
***
Nikita was shocked by Michael's quietly controlled
vehemence... "If she dies... they die."
She'd rarely heard such barely checked anger from Michael
before. And she knew that he meant every word he said.
But she felt no compulsion to warn Operations and Madeline... they'd made this particular bed... let them lie in it!
***
Michael fretted the entire flight. He couldn't settle down
enough to even pretend to read a magazine. His interview with
Vachek, although loosely scripted by Section, had come straight
from his heart. It was agony to be away from Elena. Why had
this man, who hadn't cared about Elena for almost twenty
years, suddenly decided he had to have a personal report on her
condition?
Michael was desperate to get back to her. He knew that the longer the poison worked on her system, the slimmer her chance of recovery. He was also afraid what other things' Section might be doing to her in his absence.
~~~
He reported to Operations as soon as he returned to the hospital.
It took every ounce of will he had not to beg for the antidote.
But Madeline didn't think Vachek would stay away, no matter
what he'd told Michael.
***
Nikita was sitting with Adam in the hall outside Elena's
room. He was being such a good boy; it almost broke Nikita's
heart. His innocent question to Michael, "Is Mommy better
yet?" spoke of trust... trust that had never been
betrayed... trust Nikita now knew she would always have in
Michael.
Her throat ached from choking back tears, from being strong for Adam... and Michael. And she knew that no matter how this ended, she'd have to be the strong one for Michael. He was going to need all her care and understanding to work through this. She just hoped Section would let her give it to him. He deserved it.
While Adam was with Elena, Nikita finally managed to convince Michael to call Walter and find out exactly what the poison was. Then, he could slip the information to the doctors and let them discover' what was killing her. He'd pulled his cellphone from his pocket when they both heard the phone in Elena's room ring. As Nikita rose stiffly to her feet, Michael turned to enter the room. Over his shoulder she could see Adam sitting on the edge of the bed holding the phone.
"Daddy, Daddy, he says it's Grandpa coming to see Mommy," she heard him say.
She sagged to the floor again, relief coursing through her. Now Section would release the antidote. They'd better! she thought grimly, or Michael won't be the only one out for blood!
***
Events moved quickly after the phone call from Vachek. Section
delivered the antidote and Elena began responding. The profile
was active. While he was relieved to see Elena doing better,
Michael knew that what she was about to endure would be even
worse than the poison.
Before Nikita had taken Adam from Elena's room, he'd held the boy for a long moment. He knew it would probably be his last opportunity. The neighbor Adam had stayed with the first night of Elena's illness' had come and taken him home. Michael didn't want the remotest possibility that Adam might witness anything of what was about to take place.
***
Nikita felt like she'd been drugged. Everything had had a
dream-like quality. She'd seen Vachek enter Elena's
room. She'd taken out the two goons he'd left in the
hall, allowing the Section assassin to enter. She'd heard
the first... and then the second shot. She'd heard
Elena's terrified screaming.
And she'd just sat there.
~~~
She was sitting again. Alone in her apartment with her hand
wrapped loosely around the stem of a wineglass. Nikita realized
with one part of her mind that in the glass was the same kind of
wine Elena had served when they'd toasted her new job and
apartment. Not a happy memory. Her cellphone lay on the counter
next to her glass. She gazed at it, tears flowing down her
cheeks. She willed the phone to ring. Please, Michael...
please call.
Nikita knew that Operations and Madeline had given Michael some downtime... in recognition of his personal sacrifice.' It was the least they could do for the best operative ever produced by Section One. They'd done the same for her when Jurgen had died and she'd only had a few weeks worth of emotion wrapped up in him when he died. Michael had just had four years... four happy years... of memories... of experiences... of life... ripped from his soul.
And she knew he was bleeding internally... more than she ever had.
She'd had to severe her connection with Elena and Adam, too, and it had been more painful than she'd even imagined. She could hear the desperation in Elena's voice as she pleaded with Nikita to move in with her. Nikita's excuse... the only plausible one she had... was her new job'. The fashion house was sending her to their new office in the States. She'd lied to Elena saying she probably wouldn't be able to get back for years but she'd try to keep in touch. To herself she'd admitted the truth... that except by accident, she'd never see Elena or Adam again.
And the truth hurt... it hurt like hell.
***
He told Vachek to say goodbye to his daughter. In his heart he
said goodbye to her also, his eyes brimming with unshed tears...
he could barely speak for the lump in his throat. He heard the
muted sound of fighting in the hall. It's almost over.
The assassin entered the room and took down Vachek. The adrenaline pumping through Michael's system skewed his perception of reality. Time seemed to slow. It seemed for a split second that the profile must have changed again and that Michael wouldn't be killed'. But once the gunman was sure Vachek was dead, his second shot ripped through Michael's chest.
~~~
Michael woke hours later in Section's medlab. He almost
cursed when he realized he wasn't dead. It wasn't
fair... his heart refused to stop beating simply even though to
him it was a dead and useless organ. Now, he'd be forced to
endure the stares and unspoken condolences of those around him in
Section.
Why? Why should I go on living?
~~~
He walked through the crowded streets not seeing anything or
anyone around him. His eyes were focused inwardly... on two pair
of dark eyes, so like each other, yet so different. As he walked
he remembered the day he'd met' Elena... their
wedding... Adam's birth... all the birthdays... and all the
little things that made up everyday living.
His mind raged. Operations had promised that Adam and Elena would be well provided for. But what kind of patrimony was that? His son would never... could never... know the truth about his father. Michael wouldn't be able to watch his son grow to manhood. Section had condemned Adam to the same kind of life to which Vachek had damned Elena... life without a father's love and protection.
Michael stopped walking and finally focused on his surroundings. He was in the neighborhood of his apartment. He hadn't been by in months. Madeline had reported to him at one time that Section's real housekeeping staff checked on the place once a week. They dusted, ran the vacuum, watered the plants... all the chores necessary to keep it habitable.
He decided to go there since he couldn't go home to Elena and Adam... that wasn't home' anymore and he certainly didn't want to go to his quarters at Section. Michael wished he felt up to talking to Nikita, but he knew his grasp on his emotions was too fragile to risk the cathartic release he knew she'd trigger.
So, it was to the old apartment he turned his steps. The apartment where he had sat stunned for a week after he thought Simone had died. The apartment where he'd locked himself after finding... and losing... her again. The apartment where he'd paced the floors trying to convince himself that Nikita wasn't dead. The apartment he associated with pain and heartache.
It was the perfect place to go in his misery.
***
Nikita knew just by looking at him that he hadn't been
sleeping. Dark smudges below his pale green eyes accentuated the
pallor of his complexion. He'd lost weight too. Even without
a degree in psychology, she recognized all the symptoms of
bereavement.
She knocked gently on his office door and waited until he looked up and invited her in with a nod. She knew she'd have to tread carefully through this landmined-filled maze Madeline and Operations had created. That they expected her to do it astounded her. They were counting on her love for Michael to prevent him from committing suicide on the upcoming mission. It was an easy in-out mission, not too much risk, but Madeline was concerned enough to call Nikita in for a special briefing.
Madeline asked... no...told... her to watch Michael's behavior. She was to report any anomalies in his demeanor during the mission and prevent the mission from failing. No small task considering Michael had to know that Section would use his feelings for her to control him.
It wasn't a critical mission, but it was necessary. It also bordered on the verge of being very dangerous. Madeline and Operations wanted to know about Michael's capability in the field. Could he still perform to Section standards? Was his bond with Nikita as strong as before?
It was obvious this mission was a test for Michael. Nikita also knew Madeline was testing her as well. The way she had it figured, Madeline and Operations wanted to know just how far she would go to protect Michael. Really, they should have just asked her. She'd have given them a straight answer, which was more than they'd ever done for her. She'd have told them... she'd go as far as necessary to keep him alive and well.
But she also knew that if Michael was unable emotionally to get beyond Adam and Elena, she'd do whatever he asked, if it meant he could be released from the tremendous burden of guilt he felt. Even if it meant letting him die. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.
She asked him point blank one day a week ago "Do you want to die?" She waited, almost breathlessly while she watched the raw emotions cross his face. Then he pulled a classic interrogation tactic on her... he answered her question with another question.
"What's that to you?" His voice was so flat... unemotional... cold. It was as if he didn't believe she could understand the depth of his loss. Oh, but she did. And she had endured it more times than she'd cared to name over the short span of her life.
Over the past few weeks, Nikita had learned something fundamental about her relationship with Michael. She could be happy if he was happy. If he'd been allowed to stay with Elena and Adam, then she would have moved out of the picture and given him her sincerest wishes for his happiness, unencumbered by tragic posturing on her part.
Since he hadn't been permitted to remain with them, Nikita was afraid she would be a constant reminder of what he'd lost. If Michael proved incapable of dealing with the separation and couldn't return to his quasi-relationship with her, then Nikita decided she'd ask Madeline for a transfer to another substation. She didn't think she could bear his silent withdrawal. So a transfer would be good for both of them... maybe. She'd die inside, knowing she wasn't part of his life anymore, but that was a small thing compared with Michael's peace of mind.
Then maybe... eventually... she could come back to the place she considered home.
~~~
Nikita was on point. The mission was to retrieve a small disc
from a safe in the warehouse office of a suspected terrorist.
Birkoff was monitoring the mission from the van. Michael was
Nikita's rear guard.
The mission profile Michael had been given was that the office would be empty for ten minutes while the guard made his rounds. What Michael hadn't been told was that a second guard would arrive within minutes of the first one's departure. Nikita had been warned that the moment the second guard discovered her, the outcome of the mission was up to her... and Michael.
~~~
Nikita heard Birkoff tell Michael to hold his position. The first
guard had been gone just over a minute. Birkoff was giving her
the count as she located the safe, blew the lock and searched for
the disc.
Nikita staggered. They hadn't warned her that the safe was full! There were stacks of papers and boxes and dozens of discs at least! It was going to take forever to find the right one! And there was no way their presence would go unnoticed for long. As she stuffed all the discs she could lay her hands on into various pockets, she heard Birkoff warn' Michael about the second guard.
***
"Someone else?" Michael spoke quietly into his comm
unit to Birkoff. "What do you mean someone else?
Where'd he come from?" Even as he moved out from his
position, Michael forwarded the warning to Nikita. It wasn't
like Birkoff to have faulty intel on a simple mission like this.
"Nikita, can you see the second guard from your location?" Michael asked. When she didn't answer he said again, with urgency tinting his voice, "Nikita?" He was still advancing on Nikita's position when he heard the sound of rapid gunfire.
"Nikita!" he said as he moved quickly and quietly toward the last protection the corridor would provide.
"Birkoff, is Nikita down? I'm not getting any response from her." Michael's eyes grew dark at the thought of losing Nikita... on top of the loss of Adam and Elena. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear it. He'd rather die himself.
"She's pinned in the office and the first guard is on his way back... fast!" Birkoff said urgently. "There's a back way into the office to your left. Take the third door on your right... move through that room and exit on the far side... that will put you into position behind the guard. The original guard is approaching from the west and should reinforce the other one about the time you get there." Michael could hear Birkoff's fingers do their lightning dance across the keyboard.
Michael followed Birkoff's directions and reached the corridor behind the guard barricading Nikita in the office. As he brought his gun to bear on the guard's back, he heard a sharp cry from Nikita. Quickly he downed the guard and whirled to face the returning guard. Michael's shot caught him squarely in the middle of his chest. By the time the he hit the ground, fatally wounded, Michael was stepping over the fallen guard in the doorway, his eyes raking the room for Nikita.
What he saw made his heart stop. Nikita lay sprawled, unmoving, on the floor behind the overturned desk. Her flaxen hair had worked loose from the ponytail she habitually wore on missions, and now was smeared with blood.
"Birkoff, send the medical team... NOW! Nikita's wounded," Michael said, trying to keep from shouting.
Birkoff's reply sounded almost as terrified as Michael felt. "There's no time! We've gotta get out of here. A truck just pulled into the loading dock! You're going to be trapped if you don't get out now!"
Praying he didn't do anymore damage, Michael hefted Nikita over his shoulder and moved as quickly as he dared from the room. The adrenaline racing through his system heightened his awareness. He was relieved to hear tiny gasps and grunts from Nikita as he carried her back the way he'd come.
It took several minutes for Michael to reach the van, Birkoff guiding him through alleys and side streets. He only paused once to shift Nikita into a more comfortable position. The medical team was ready when he gently lowered Nikita onto the narrow bunk that comprised medlab's half' of the van. As they assessed her wounds, Michael tenderly took her hand in his, dropped a feather-light kiss on it and whispered, "Please... don't leave me."
***
She sighed as she came to. She was alone in Section's medlab
SICU... as usual.
She didn't know how she'd gotten there. Michael must have pulled her from the wrecked office and gotten her back to the van. She remembered vague, dream-like images of the wild ride back to Section... Birkoff's eyes, terrified behind the tinted lenses of his glasses... the nurse cutting her shirt off to get to the worst of the wounds... Michael caressing her hand.
Lord! That had to be a pain- or drug-induced hallucination! Michael hadn't come near her since the Vachek mission ended. There was no reason for her to believe he'd ever care for her again. It was as she'd feared... her presence was a painful reminder of his loss. She resolved to ask Madeline for that transfer as soon as she was out of medlab.
She drifted off to sleep again, tears staining her pale cheeks.
***
He stood beside her bed gazing at her as she slept. How many
times had he watched her like this? He'd lost count. His
eyes seemed bent on memorizing every curve of her face, every
pale freckle scattered across the tip of her nose.
There was a small bandage on her forehead where she'd been grazed by broken glass. Michael couldn't see the bandages wrapped around her torso but he knew they were there, covering the three bullet wounds she'd received before he'd gotten to the guard. The only thing that had saved her life had been the cheap desk she'd overturned and hidden behind... most of the force of the bullets had been spent passing through it. But there still had been enough energy to do some major damage to her inner workings.
He reached over and gently wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks and smoothed a lock of silken hair from her brow. She never stirred. He glanced down at the card hidden in his hand. He needed to put it somewhere Madeline wouldn't notice but that Nikita would find when she woke.
Mindful that the room might be under electronic surveillance, Michael leaned over and lightly brushed his thumb across her eyebrow. Then as he turned to leave the room, he stepped over to the bedside table where he'd placed the vase of flowers. Using the pretext of sniffing their fragrance as cover, he swiftly concealed the card deep within the green foliage.
He walked slowly from the room without looking back.
***
The delicate scent of flowers woke her this time.
There on the bedside table was an elegantly simple arrangement of white flowers and dark green leaves... roses, double peonies, lilies. They were so beautiful and their fragrance was heavenly.
She imagined they were from Birkoff and Walter. They were the only ones who ever sent her flowers when she was stuck down here. But they'd never sprung for anything quite so extravagant before. She twisted around in bed as much as she dared to look for the card but didn't see one poised above the blooms.
Gingerly, she pulled the table toward the edge of the bed. It hurt like hell to stretch, but she didn't want to call the duty nurse. She wanted to luxuriate in the rich blend of fragrances alone. She shifted again so she could bury her nose among the blossoms and saw the envelope hidden in the greenery. Glancing around she deftly plucked it from its hiding place and carefully broke the seal. What she saw caused a definite skip in her heart monitor's printout.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she read, "Please don't leave me. Love, Michael."
When she looked up, Michael was standing in the door watching her, his feelings for her written plainly across his face for her to see. She tilted her head and, with a watery smile, stretched out her hand. A ray of hope illuminated his eyes as he slowly crossed to her side.
So much for the transfer.
The End