All The Right Moves

Chapter Two: Fade To Black

Thom, Thom, Thom. It was all Alex could think of as she hurried up the stairs to Operations, where she knew he would be. It was all she had been able to think of for a while now, and she needed answers. Why had he sacrificed Jaden? Who was Owen? And possibly the most important question of them all: what on earth was he doing?

Turning the corner past Security, Alex's thoughts were travelling at lightning speed. Question after question arose, but she knew Thom wouldn't be the only one with some explaining to do. Her mind still spinning, she didn't register the wall of black coming towards her, until two strong hands reached out to grab her, and she came to a sudden halt.

"I've been looking for you. I need you." Michael's voice was raspier than usual, causing Alex's breath to catch in her throat. She looked up, meeting his eyes, which also seemed darker than usual. The intensity of his gaze induced a shiver down her spine, and she was suddenly very aware of his hands on her arms.

"Uh, I...have to be somewhere" she stuttered, mentally cursing for her lack of eloquence. It's just Michael. Right, 'just' Michael.

"Where?" Damn it. Realizing he wasn't about to drop the subject, she straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms, causing his hands to drop to his side.

"Does it matter?" Seeing his eyebrows raise and head tilt forward gave her the answer. "I'm meeting Birkhoff, he has something to show me. Something to do with the GPS in my car." Let's hope he falls for that one.

"Birkhoff's on outside work right now, he's not due back for another half hour. You know that. You were at the briefing this morning." Michael's blank face slammed down into place, and it was his turn to fold his arms. Aw crap. Think Alex. Er, Operations. Near Operations? Think. Yes! Medical!

"Fine, you got me. I'm going to Medical. I know I told you my wrist was fine when you asked, but it's not. I wanted to see the doctor about it." Good save.

"You were fine in the gym this morning. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I strap it up when I'm working out. It's when the wrapping comes off that it starts to hurt. I just don't want people to think I'm weak. I'm probably on thin ice as it is." The last part of that sentence was but a whisper, not intended for Michael's ears, but Alex knew he'd heard her.

"Thin ice? What makes you think that?" The look on his face kick-started the anxious feeling in her stomach.

"Just something I've been thinking about" she started, trying to improvise as best she could. "You and I know what happened with the target. And capturing her was just a fluke if you think about it." She added the emphasis on the Nikita reference, hoping her story sounded believable enough.

"Go on." Michael's voice betrayed no emotion, but Alex could tell he was genuinely interested at what she had to say.

"When she pulled me into that shed, she starting talking some trash about how Division is corrupt, and something about some guy named Daniel. She went all...dreamy, y'know? That's when I got the drop on her. It was dumb luck, not skill. It's not like I fought her and won or anything. I mean, Percy must know that, right?" Even though Percy had told her not to worry about it, it still unnerved her. After all, she had only recently seen what the man himself was capable of.

"No, he doesn't. And neither did I. Alex...at any given moment an underdog can rise. And it may sound harsh, but compared to someone like Nikita, you are the underdog. All it takes is a split second to react, don't underestimate yourself. You did good."

"Sure (!). And what about the target? I'm pretty sure that wasn't my finest work." With that, Michael placed his arm around her shoulder, as if drawing her closer, and moved forward. They began to walk together in silence for a few minutes, before he pulled them to a stop. Alex looked up and saw that they had reached Medical.

"Why do you think I told you to say your gun had jammed?" Pushing the door open, he led Alex inside and left, without saying another word. No words, but a very poignant look.

Forty-five minutes and a bottle of mild sedatives later, Alex emerged from Medical. Dr Grant had insisted on checking her overall well-being as well as her wrist. She had mentioned her recent bouts of insomnia, hence the sleeping pills. When she realized that the doctor wasn't going to let her leave without a full check-up, she had been honest and told him about her trouble sleeping through the night. Although glad to have got it off her chest, the little intervention had set her back in finding Thom. He mostly likely would have left Operations by now, and moved onto God-knows-where.

It hadn't taken her long to get to Operations, and she quickly swiped her access card through the scanner, before proceeding through the heavy doors. Being able to access wherever she liked, whenever she liked would take a lot of getting used to.

Shaking those thoughts aside, she began to scan the Operations center. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, but there was no sign of Thom. Spotting Birkhoff just a few yards in front of her, she decided to check in with him.

"Hey Birkhoff."

No response. Alex looked him over. No earpiece, no headphones, nothing. He didn't seem to be concentrating on anything in particular on his computer. Maybe he hadn't heard her.

"Birkhoff?" She tried again.

"Yeah I got it the first time. What do you want?" His voice was cold, and Alex wasn't used to it. He had been frustrated with her in the past, when she couldn't work out a simple hacking program, but he'd never spoken to her like this.

"Er, I just wanted to know if you'd seen Thom around?" Considering the mood he seemed to be in, hoping he'd give her a helpful answer was probably too much to ask for.

"No."

"Okay then, thanks." Alex turned to leave, but a thought struck her. "Everything alright, Birkhoff?"

"None of your business, recruit." He replied, clearly not thinking too much about his answer.

"I'm an Agent now, remember?"

"Whatever."

"Right..." she whispered, leaving Operations. He's probably just stressed out. He saw exactly the same thing I did.

Alex wanted to help Birkhoff, to let him know that she understood. But there was no way of broaching the subject without blowing her cover. She'd just have to find another way to help him.

Michael sat alone at the back of the small French cafe, about a 30 minute drive from the Division compound. Thoughts of Alex had been troubling him all day, and seeing the state she was in after their little run-in had done nothing to suppress his suspicions. She was hiding something, and he had to find out what. And fast. He couldn't have her potentially screwing up another mission and being canceled. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. Of course, there was one sure-fire way to find out what was bothering Alex, but there was no way in Hell he was sending her to see Amanda. He wanted Alex to speak to someone she could trust, and he knew just the person. The only person he could trust implicitly.

A shadow blocked the sunlight that had streamed onto his table and the familiar voice swept over him, jovial and sarcastic as always.

"I've just spent 20 hours flying, half of them in the back of a C-130 with 80 US Marines. I want a shower, a burger, and to be able to sleep for the next week, so this had better be good, Michael." He stood to greet his guest: Elena Denisov, a fellow long-term Division Agent, who had just returned from a deep infiltration mission in Afghanistan. Despite her protests, she looked good. As always.

"How did your op go?" he asked, moving to give his old friend a hug. She quickly retreated.

"I wouldn't if I were you. I'm pretty...questionable right now. The op was successful. Look Mike, you sure we have to do this now? We couldn't do it in say, 24 hours? Or at Division?" she smirked.

"I'm sorry to drag you out here, Ellie, but I couldn't talk about this back there. Too many eyes and ears." He replied, settling back down into his chair and gesturing to Elena to do the same. He signalled to the waitress who came to stand attentively at the side of the table.

"I'll take another coffee please. Elena?"

"The strongest coffee you've got. Black, no sugar. Thanks." The waitress nodded once, then moved off to fill the order. Michael smirked up at Elena.

"Since when do you drink black coffee? The Ellie I remember hated the stuff. What did you used to call it - sludge?"

"One man's sludge is another man's rocket fuel. Learned that off the troops. In those conditions, you take every drop of caffeine you can get."

Michael sighed, something he rarely did. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Yeah, 'cause you need my help" Elena joked.

"No" he replied, his sincerity evident. "Because I missed you, and I'm glad my best friend is back."

"Alright, enough of the soppy stuff. Who am I offing?" The excited look on her face would have worried the average person, but Michael knew exactly what she meant. Even though it shouldn't, most of the time killing a target produced a high unrivalled by any drug. It was exciting and shameful at the same time.

"No one. Not this time anyway" he added with a wink.

"So I'm missing out on an extra hour's sleep in a half-decent bed, and I don't get to kill anyone? Do you know how long it's been? 3 weeks and 2 days, Michael. I'm getting a little antsy here." Sometimes, Michael swore Elena had been a serial killer in a previous life.

"You remember Alex?" he began, attempting to get to the subject. After all, it's the reason they were here.

"Alex? Nope." She shook her head. "Ohhh...you mean mini-Nikita? Yeah, I remember her. What's she done?"

"She's an Agent now. Had her first op on Saturday. Percy promoted her right after. But she's hiding something, I can tell. Something big."

"No shit? So where do I come in?"

"Remember our very first op together, in London?"

Elena nodded, her face turning grim. "How could I forget? That mission's the reason I'm never touching sushi again. I mean, come on. What genius came up with the idea of putting a seafood and champagne bar in the departures lounge of an airport? Fish, alcohol and 37,000ft? I don't think so..." Michael laughed, probably the first genuine laugh he'd had in a month.

"I wasn't referring to your, er, unfortunate food encounter, but thanks for the memory. I was thinking more along the lines of that little game you played with the hotel boss, the one that resulted in him singing like a canary?"

"Ahh. You're good Michael, very good."