Division Falling

Chapter 1 Assignments

Birkhoff tore his gaze from the computer screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Glancing down the length of her figure, he shot her a knowing look. "Please," he stated with his usual sarcasm.

Looking past the reflective glare of his glasses, she thought she saw a world of hidden clues in his eyes, just beyond reach. Processing his one word dismissal of her question as to whether the guy on his screen would find her attractive, she basked in the warm glow of Birkhoff's apparent approval. Shifting her attention up and over the thick hair he wore shoved back off his forehead, she studied his high cheekbones and dropped her gaze to his lips. Parted slightly to reveal very white, even teeth, she realized how well sculpted they were. His gaze faltered a bit, telling her that he'd ventured too far out onto the shaky limb of flirtation, but she liked the fact that he'd made the effort. Holding his attention, she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him, if he ever bothered to do such a thing.

No, that's forbidden she remembered, flushing at the direction of her thoughts.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked softly, one corner of his mouth lifting toward a smile. "You know, I'll be watching everything…no need to fear."

She nodded as he resumed his typing. He has nice hands, she decided, strong and capable…

"What you need to do is play it cool," he said as if by rote. "Don't be obvious when you approach him—nerds think that when a hot girl likes them, there's something wrong with her."

"Is that so?" she challenged when he glanced up as if to gauge her reaction. She offered him a tiny smile. Then I guess I can't be too obvious with you…

"Definitely," he sighed forcefully, inputting stats on the video cameras surrounding the nightclub. "I do know what I'm talking about."

"I'm sure you do," she smiled, leaning closer to his shoulder, which seemed to make him nervous.

"Almost done," he shot back, as if taking a few seconds for personal interaction was a violation of Division's code. "There—you can go see Amanda now..."

"Thanks," she said unenthusiastically, the prospect of dealing with Division's evil shrink a bit daunting. Now he was scrolling furiously through several split screens of data all at once. "So I guess I'll 'see' you later?"

He pursed his lips and closed two of the screens, leaning closer to the monitor. "I will see you," he corrected, pausing to reach for his ever present can of Red Bull. Tilting his head back, he drained the contents and glanced up at her. "Hang in there—it's gonna be a loooong night."

She pulled her gaze from the muscular column of his throat, still seeing his Adam's apple moving as he drank. Reaching up, she rested her hand on his shoulder despite his flinch of surprise. He glanced down at her hand and shot her a warning look. Instead of apologizing she smiled, gently squeezing the thick muscle she could feel beneath the fabric of his black zippered sweatshirt. Then she turned and walked away, almost sure that his eyes followed her movements. Suddenly the keys resumed their frantic clicking as he quickly got back to work.

"Don't forget to check in with me later," he called after her.

Stopping at the door, she turned to see that his eyes were definitely on his monitor. "Aye aye, Sir," she teased, saluting despite his attention being elsewhere. Stepping out into the hall she headed toward Amanda's office with a smile on her face, feeling as energized as if she'd shared the Red Bull with him. Quickening her pace, she welcomed tonight's assignment now that she knew she'd be working under his command instead of Michael's. This was indeed a first.

Controlling her stride despite the stiletto heels she wore, she continued down the corridor. Thinking back to her arrival just two months ago, she clearly remembered the first time she'd met Birkhoff. It was the first day of computer class for all the new recruits, and they'd been assembled for over five minutes waiting for the instructor to show. With everyone gossiping under their breath she kept to herself, well aware of the clicks that had already formed before she'd been brought here. Then suddenly he'd burst into the room, looking like he'd just jumped out of bed, his dark blonde hair mussed and carrying papers clutched to his chest. In his free hand was a huge mug of coffee, which he sipped before beginning to shout orders at them in a voice that surprised them all—definitely not nerdy, but deep pitched and powerful enough to command their undivided attention. He wore dark navy jeans and black Keds to match his black skater sweatshirt, a white screened tee beneath a gray and black flannel shirt and a few days' scruffy beard. And she'd been mesmerized by him from that moment on.

She couldn't quite decide what fascinated her about him, though it might be due to some combination of his obsession with data, his no nonsense manner and his brilliant impatience. He'd kept her after class until she passed his first test, exhibiting another side of his personality that she suspected he hid too well. For he'd been patient with her, soft-spoken and even compassionate, eyeing her with the gentle warning that new recruits who didn't keep up wouldn't last long here. He'd gotten so close to her that she wondered if they were being watched, necessitating his quiet manner. But in that closeness she'd been stirred both by the look in his eyes as well as some subtle scent that must be his shampoo. And there was something about his hair that just made her want to comb her fingers into.

"Birkhoff brief you already?" Amanda's voice startled her. Stopping abruptly, she turned and sobered her expression as the resident shrink came to her side, her hands clutched at her waist. She nodded, wondering how she could have missed the clicking of her five inch heels on the tiles.

Was I that intensely focused on Birkhoff? she worried, hoping she wouldn't suspect their little tete-a-tete back in Operations. She didn't want to get him in trouble.

"He's putting the final touches on the monitoring protocol for the club," she said in a business-like tone.

"Good," she nodded, tilting her head to one side suddenly. "Anything you want to go over with me?"

"No—I was a little concerned about how to make the initial contact," she stated, "but he gave me some advice that should help."

"Yes, he would," she sighed, glancing back in the direction of Operations. "My advice would be to be yourself, and most of all exude that cool confidence you manage so well. But you look lovely so go get our multi-millionaire geek—Michael's waiting for you at the carport."

"Alright," she nodded as Amanda stalked off toward Percy's wing. Glancing up at the video camera, she smiled and waved, just in case he was watching. Then she headed toward the carport, prepared to get the show underway.

He stared at the surveillance monitor wondering if he'd really seen what he thought he'd seen. After a moment's hesitation he decided that he had, smiling as he resumed programming the ops for tonight. She'd actually waved to him, which did wonders for his mood if he was forced to admit it. She for one didn't treat him like a machine, which was partly the reason that whenever she was around he felt his dark moods lift. It wasn't just her fresh young face and gorgeous blue eyes, though that certainly helped. But there was something about her that drew him like a moth to the flame. He'd been seriously burnt before, but by now he didn't even care.

"Hell, you're not getting any younger," he muttered, his voice echoing loud in the empty room. With a cynical smile he wrapped the program and hit the function keys, finally lifting his arms behind his head and stretching his shoulders back. He watched as the cameras swept the area of the carpool. When she strode into view he lowered his arms and sat forward, staring at the slightly blurred images as she moved. Sliding into the car before Michael shut the door and climbed into the front, she was silently transported away.

"God speed," he sighed, watching that screen until the garage door closed behind them. Then he looked over at the access road and followed their course, reaching blindly for his drink. Then he remembered he'd finished it already and decided he needed a water bottle instead. All those electrolytes, sugar and caffeine were making him jittery, added to his chronic lack of sleep. Percy had worked him mercilessly these last two days, and he desperately needed a break. Now he was hallucinating, he decided, shaking his head at the thought of Alexandra being interested in him.

Wake up, Birkhoff—you're imagining things you shouldn't, he lectured himself as he got up and headed out into the hall once his monitor alarm was set. The water bottle machine was only a few yards past the restrooms, so he decided to make a quick stop there before they reached the nightclub. The drive was about 25 minutes long so he took his time. Pulling his glasses off to clean them, he gazed into the mirror, studying the lines of strain around his eyes as he prayed for a chance to get some rest once this assignment was over. As far as the last time he'd had more than two days off in a row, he couldn't even remember.

Lifting his arms, he hand-combed his hair back off his forehead, realizing he needed a trim when he saw that it was well below his collar line. Then he thought of Alex's long dark hair, its shiny luster and wavy softness tempting him. As did her subtle fragrance when she'd stood at his side dressed for a night out. He closed his eyes, seeing himself plunge his hands into her hair and bury his face in it. He started to fantasize about her, haunted particularly by her wide and fascinated eyes and those luscious lips of hers. With a shudder he shook his head in disgust and bent to splash cold water on his face. Reaching up for a paper towel, he straightened and dried his face eyeing himself sternly.

"Get a grip, would you?" he complained, wadding up the towel and shooting it into the basket with perfect aim. Striding purposefully to the door, he shoved it open and marched to the water machine. Digging into his jeans pocket for the coins, he dropped them in and punched the select button. Tapping his fingers on the Plexiglas he waited for the thing to drop, and finally a 16 oz bottle dove toward the bottom of the machine and hit on impact. He bent to reach inside, gripping it in one hand as he stalked back toward his office. He grunted a greeting to the security guard, who passed him without expression or answering word.

Now there's a machine, he thought, vowing to hold onto what little humanity he still had left. Here they were seriously cut off from the real world, deep in the bowels of the imprisonment of Division. He often judged a regular prison cell the better choice, having experienced both for a time. There nothing was pretend and everything was black and white. Here there were far too many illusions of freedom and everything was muted in tone. Division did offer a remote chance of redeeming himself, which was the only reason he'd stayed this long. But his time was running out.

Sliding into his chair he pulled up the cap and lifted the water bottle, draining a third of it as he eyed the monitors along their route. Tapping the proper keys he quickly pulled up the security cams surrounding the nightclub and shook his head at the crowds of well-heeled guests lining up outside. He pulled up the interior views and eyed the cavernous club, searching the crowd for their target. After a few minutes he found him and zoomed in on his face as he sat talking with one of his colleagues. Able to read lips, he snorted at what he could make out, thankful that in this setting the blare of the music prevented any audio monitoring. Satisfied that he was staying put for now, he brought up the adjacent views and noted the tough-looking man with shifty eyes who stood nearby.

"Gotcha, goon," he breathed, panning out and concentrating on the music while he waited. Disco wasn't his style so he switched off the sound and began a survey of the exterior. It looked clean, so he switched to the curb and spotted their limo, his heart accelerating as it pulled up and the door opened. Watching Michael climb out looking all suave and debonair he laughed aloud, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. As he opened the rear passenger door Alex climbed out, gently smoothing down her dress as she exited the vehicle and swept her cape around her hips. She led the way in, Michael trailing along in her wake at a safe distance.

"Alright, we're good to go," he stated, bringing up all views as he concentrated on the Alex screen. She climbed the stairs, reaching toward her ear as he spoke to her alone. "How you feelin' Beautiful?" he asked quietly, seeing her lips lift toward a smile. She approached the entrance, gazing up into the cameras and shielding her mouth.

"Fine, now that you're here," she breathed, nodding to the guard who admitted her. Michael shoved his way closer, still waiting to enter as Birkhoff adjusted his resolution once she was inside.

"Target is sitting by the pool of goldfish toward the back, not that you really want to know," he stated blandly. He heard her husky laugh as she headed in that direction.

"You should have come too," she said quietly as he watched Michael enter and keep his distance.

"Is that an invitation?" he replied softly, watching her approach the target.

"You decide," she answered with a nervous huff. "Here goes—over for now."

He heard her click off as she passed the bodyguard. "Just lift your chin and smile," he stated, wishing he had the chance to go along. Someday, Alex, in my dreams.

"Excuse me," he heard the target call out, using her fake name as she stopped just a few feet from him. Turning her head, she looked right at him and shifted her purse up under her arm. Her brows went up as he rose before her.

"You wouldn't by any chance be Sofia, would you?"

Birkhoff tapped his keyboard to adjust the resolution. "Yeah, he's brilliant alright," he muttered, watching her stifle a laugh.

She extended her hand, clutching her purse with the other. "Why yes, I am—are you Andre?"

He shook his head at the guy's cocky stance and small talk, refraining from further commentary for now. Switching to Michael's position he kept an eye on them, unable to picture himself in the guy's shoes. Michael lifted his drink and drained it, grimacing up at the camera as he laughed and shifted his eyes back to Alex and Andre, temporarily switching off his mike as he studied their interaction.

"Don't be fooled—he's just another machine," he stated, drumming his fingers on the desk. "A rich and powerful one, but who still has to resort to internet connections to find himself a date. Pathetic."

He'd once been headed in the same direction as the guy until his political leanings had redirected his course, much to his father's disapproval. Watching Alex move to the dance floor with him, he studied her moves with a smile playing around his lips. The target danced too close and regrettably had none.

"How you ever thought of picking up chicks with those moves, we'll never know," he murmured, starting to move to the music himself as he in his empty office. Suddenly aware of what he was doing he stopped, vowing to take some time off just to play at being a real person. If Percy would even let him.

Not liking the way the guy's eyes moved restlessly over her, he stiffened as he leaned closer to Alex, placing a hand on the small of her back. She turned her head and squinted at him in surprise, looking like she wanted to keep dancing. But he leaned closer and spoke into her ear. Birkhoff stretched over his keyboard, turning up the volume in her earpiece but unable to hear what he said—the music was just too loud. He watched them make their way off the dance floor and head toward the back, taking note of the way Michael stiffened. He ordered the team to intercept and at Michael's nod switched to the two other agents present. They began to close in on the couple as he quietly directed Alex.

"Once upon a time there was a tower in a beautiful kingdom," he said into her earpiece. "There a lovely princess lay sleeping from a curse placed on her years ago," he added zooming in on her face as she turned toward one of the cameras, her expression tense. He saw the target take her arm as he guided her toward the elevators, the sight of the guy's hand on her sending off more alarms.

"Oh no you don't," he warned, punching in her cell phone speed dial as the bodyguard closed in on them. Michael came up behind him as well.

"Turn and face him with a smile," he ordered as they neared the elevators. Drumming his fingers atop the desk he saw her look down and pull out her cell phone. Then she smiled up at the target and said she needed to take the call, momentarily dazzling him with her smile. They paused while he pulled his gaze from her and impatiently scanned their surroundings. She held up her hand in apology as she pretended to be talking to an old friend, giving Michael time to slip in.

"Let's see how easily you can distract him," Birkhoff murmured, watching Michael engage him in conversation. After a few seconds he made the offer, capturing the man's interest and making him even more nervous. He nodded to his guard and crossed his arms, giving Michael his full attention. He didn't even notice when Alex walked away, eyeing the other agents who kept a safe distance from her.

"So we should get together sometime for brunch," she chatted as he watched Michael lead the guy to the bar, bodyguard following with a frustrated expression.

"Yeah only make it dinner," he answered, alerting the driver and the other agents to cover Michael. Releasing her now that the plan had changed, he leaned back and relaxed as she started toward the coat check room. "How'd you like to try that new Mexican place downtown?" he breathed into her earpiece.

She looked up into one of the cameras and nodded, thanking him as she waited for her cape, cell phone in hand. He rambled off a recipe stating he could cook for her, enjoying their impromptu argument about ingredients as he worked. Slipping her cape over one shoulder she headed out the door where he had the driver waiting for her. Watching until she climbed in and drove off, he then checked Michael's location, gave a few orders to the other agents and left them to close the deal Percy had indicated.

"Agent 4 on the way home," he announced, signing off as Michael took the targets arm and escorted him off to where Percy was waiting. The others followed instructions and signed off with him, leaving Michael in charge of the closing. Then he heard Alex's voice in his earpiece.

"That was close," she sighed as he leaned back tiredly, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his temples. "Birkhoff? You still there?"

"I am," he sighed, trusting she would get his text about the details ensuing in her absence. "Good work—I admit to having underestimated him though."

"It's alright," she reassured him, "but he's obviously not as up-front as he seems."

"You can say that—what's with the move to get you up to the penthouse?"

"He obviously thinks he's a lot smoother than he is—"

"Yeah and his bodyguard had saliva dripping from his mouth—" he teased.

"He did not!" she said in mock outrage. "You could have warned me, you know—"

"I did warn you—"

"Well I didn't catch your drift," she complained.

He sat straighter, wishing he had a visual on her. "It's code, sweetheart—wait, you don't actually believe I'm into fairy tales?"

"I don't suppose you have much time to read...if you can."

"I can read, ok? And the bit about the tower was supposed to alert you, Princess."

"Ok ok—I could have studied the blueprints more closely—"

"That way you would have guessed right away."

"Who would have thought he'd make a move like that?" she marveled. "He certainly can't dance—"

"Never underestimate a nerd, especially when we're compensating for any kind of lack," he warned, watching Michael hail their other limo while the agents climbed into the van waiting in the alley. "If we have any moves…they'll definitely be fast ones."

"Well I appreciate the save," she laughed softly, "but right now I just want to get rid of these heels. My feet are killing me."

He stared at the monitor outside Division, waiting for her return. "It'll all pay off someday, sweetheart," he sighed tiredly. "You did well—and don't bother debriefing, we'll do it in the morning. You've earned your rest."

"All right, then… good night, boss," she sighed, clicking off her earpiece.

He watched her car pull in, waiting until she got out. The car drove off as she headed inside. He followed her route from the next camera, watching her smile up at him and wave. Then she trudged up the hall toward her room, high heels swinging from one hand. It wasn't until her door closed that he relaxed and breathed a prayer of thanks. Too tired to get up, he thought about their relationship and dared to hope it might even develop into more of a friendship. Whether or not it was allowed, he no longer cared. He needed her, and he even sensed that she needed him somehow. Maybe it was his sense of humor, which had earned him Nikita's friendship. But that was all.

With that he pulled himself from his chair, logged off and set up the night watch. Deciding not to wait for his replacement, he walked stiffly out the door.

"Sorry I'm a little late," Archie greeted him as they passed in the hall.

"No problem."

"Hey, get some rest," he called after him.

Waving backhandedly, he headed for his own quarters. "Yeah man, I will," he called back. "Only another five hours until my class…"

Once he lay spent upon his bed he found he couldn't sleep. He'd kept the lights off to avoid a migraine, but still couldn't seem to relax. Closing his eyes, he saw her face again and smiled. But it was a very long time before he fell asleep.

c. 2011 by Christine Levitt