Nikita curled up in the uncomfortable chair next to Alex in the hospital room, Alex remaining on life support. This wasn't the doings of a bomb or weapon, this was inflicted pain, brutality at the highest of levels. She refused to leave the side of her friend, the one who helped her through many years. Together, they brought down Division, it started with them and ended the same, now she needed Nikita more than ever.
"You really should rest. You haven't slept for days, Nikita," Michael said, offering to stay with her.
"How did this happen? Why did it?" Nikita asked, still in shock at the condition of her friend.
"Only one person can answer the questions, and no one knows where he is."
"Go find him. I can't leave her, Michael."
Michael hated the idea of splitting apart, good things never happened when he and Nikita ventured alone. Too many times in their past did one of them end up almost dead, the other saving their life just in the knick of time. It had to be this way, for now, Michael had to go alone. Nikita refused to leave Alex's side with her so defenseless, needing a machine to breathe still. It wasn't like she could even leave here without dying.
A detective dropped off a bag full of Alex's clothes and belongings, everything that came with her to the hospital. He hung it in the closet, only offering the faintest of regret for what happened. Even for a detective, he seemed clueless about everything. It wouldn't be the police searching to find the answers, not in the world all of them lived. Michael went back to Nikita, checking the bag quickly for surprises.
"All of this seems unreal, Alex could take care of herself. If Sam did this, I would kill him myself," Nikita mumbled, trying to hold back the tears.
Birkoff walked into the room, coming as quickly as Michael could locate him. He stopped instantly, seeing Alex with all the tubes connected. This wasn't the reunion any of them hoped for. He quickly moved to Nikita's side, hugging her tightly after shaking Michael's hand. The lump in his throat grew more with every passing beep of the equipment. Birkoff looked visibly shaken, his hands showing just how scared he was, rattling against Nikita's back. Even after all this time, he looked the same, only a shaggy beard on his face.
"Any ideas on this one, Nikki?" Birkoff asked, letting her go.
"We received a phone call to turn on the news," Michael started explaining. "The voice sounded like Amanda. I do not know how or if it would be true, but that voice you never forget."
"Amanda, it can't be. She is locked in the most secure prison ever built!" Birkoff yelled, forgetting where they were.
"Can you find out Birkoff? We really need to know. Where's Sonya?" Michael asked, noticing she wasn't with him.
"We split a few years back. Sonya started to want to get out and see the world more, get more involved. It just didn't work out."
"Right now, we need to know if Amanda is still in prison or not. Can you do it?"
Birkoff crossed his arms, standing almost in defiance. He released Shadownet years ago to shield the people from the government. It grew more robust and better on its own, learning what it had to, evolving with the times. He didn't see a way to break through without Shadownet knowing or stopping him. His greatest accomplishment became the crux of the entire mission. He hadn't visited the central code to Shadownet since its release, letting it manage itself.
"Nerd, can you get Shadownet back to do what we need or not? This is Alex we are talking about. She wouldn't hesitate to give her life for any of us," Nikita pleaded, almost angry with his posturing.
"Give me some time. It isn't like I can just throw a switch and turn Shadownet off. I made smart enough to evolve itself against new threats. The core lives everywhere," Birkoff explained, not wanting them to believe this would be instantaneous.
"Go do it. I have a few contacts I can reach out to and try to find Sam."
Nikita stood up slowly, walking to Michael. She hated the thought of him leaving again. Everything seemed surreal, the team slowly came back together for one of their own. Happiness came to an abrupt end, the real world calling for each of them one more time.
"Be safe, Michael. You too, Birkoff."
She kissed Michael passionately enough to make Birkoff turn his head. Nikita wrapped her arms around him, fearing now more than ever about what was out there. It wasn't so much about dealing with things. They were in the unknown with no answers and a friend fighting for their life. This wasn't the ending of their story, but a new beginning. Fate brought them together again. This time, it would keep them close knowing in her heart this wouldn't stop tomorrow.
Nikita walked back to the chair beside Alex, resting a hand against hers. Alex suffered more physically than at any time in their collective past. Broken ribs and a collapsed lung caused the need for the ventilator. She remained in a medically induced coma to slow the swelling against her brain. Her right hand and leg, both broken, not like an accident. The blunt force at a key point was trained, never random for two different locations. They broke in a fight, Nikita knew it the moment she saw the x-rays. Whoever came for her, she fought them to the end.
Alex, at the same time laid in the hospital bed, bruises and cuts covering every piece of her face. The golden-brown hair giving way to a ruined mess of charred edges and missing chunks, all remnants from the explosion at her home. Nikita circled her bed, looking over her one more time for some clue that might be lost, something the doctors wouldn't know about.
The nurses came in to check on Alex, asking Nikita to leave for her to get cleaned. Nikita grabbed the bag of Alex's clothes from the closet, wanting to go through them. She stepped out of the room to give them privacy, as requested, sitting down in the chair outside. Her clothes looked less than ideal, a lot of burns and cuts, but something stood out. One spoke stood out, Nikita picking it out from her dress. The sticky residue wasn't natural. She leaned down, smelling it, quickly pulling away. This was something used a long time ago at Division to neutralize a target without killing them.
Nikita wondered why, after an explosion, someone needed the chloroform compound. Whoever used it, they missed Alex, the serum going on her dress instead of the blood. Nikita took no chances, opening the door to Alex's room. The nurse froze for a moment, syringe hanging over Alex's chest with a green substance inside. Nikita rushed towards the nurse. The needle jammed down into Alex, Nikita kicking the nurse away before plunging it. A knife flashed out, swung wildly at Nikita, forcing her to back away. The nurse fell as Nikita yanked her forward.
The two exchanged attacks, Nikita blocking each attempt. As she tried to grab the knife, Nikita kicked her in the throat, the nurse coughing loudly. Nikita pounced, hitting her in the stomach, repeatedly targeting her ribs. Even as the nurse fell to the ground, Nikita flipped her over, pulling her arm around her back. Her knee wedged against the back of her head.
"Who do you work for?" Nikita yelled.
The nurse squirmed under her weight. Nikita started twisting her wrist, wrenching back to put all the pressure on her spine. She yelled again, demanding an answer. Whoever this nurse was, she came to kill Alex.
"You can kill me, I will never talk!" She mumbled, face smashed against the floor.
Nikita lifted her head and slammed her face into the ground, knocking her unconscious. She ran to her phone and dialed Michael quickly, wanting to alert him to what happened. Her fingers frantically dialed his, trying to reach him in panic. His phone rang, over and over, with no answer each time she called. Nikita had to settle for leaving a message, trying to slow her mind to leave it.
"Michael, its Nikita. Call me, they came after Alex. We need to get out of here as soon as possible."
Nikita closed the door to her room and tied the hands of the nurse. She wasn't going to let this one get away, not without a full interrogation. Nikita sat beside Alex again, leaving nothing to chance. Her fingers delicately pulled the syringe out to ensure no liquid went inside Alex. Nikita started to cleanup, the knife quickly went into the back pocket of her jeans, ready in the event she needed it still. All she could do was wait for a call from Michael or Birkoff. They needed to move fast, or Alex wouldn't live to talk about it.
Xx-~~~~-xX
Michael walked into the club in Prague, keeping his gun loaded and tucked into his back jacket. Hundreds of people danced around, techno music blaring in the background. Lasers with neon lights lit up the dance floor, all giving him the cover he needed. Boris Klekounov would be in the back, a man of many ties and vast network. Seven years ago, Michael used him to get weapons, now he needed him for his information.
The crowd of people made it hard to detect Michael. Everyone went about their business as he waded through the sea of humanity to get closer to the DJ area. No one seemed to pay attention to him, the whole place letting him move through without security, wondering who he was. Michael approached the back door, knocking and ducking down out of the slide view on the massive metal door. He waited low, the slide opening up with no one there. Whoever answered called out in Czech, Michael choosing to stay down.
Once the slide closed, Michael knocked again. The slide opened, this time with an angry response, no one there. Each lock slowly was undone, door starting to creak open. Michael stood up, kicking the door in. The guard went flying backward, Michael pulling his gun. The few shots that rang out killed those pulling their weapons. Michael closed the door and locked it, leaving just him and Boris to have a conversation.
"Ah, Michael, what do I owe this pleasure?" Boris said, jubilant, even in the circumstance.
"I need some information, and I have a feeling you know the answers," Michael said, cutting right to the point.
"A man of few words still. You come for information on the Udinov incident, don't you? I remember you working with her before."
"What can you tell me?"
Boris offered him vodka, Michael declining, his words coming out like a shotgun to the heart. Amanda lived, she was free of her prison cell, broken out by the one who wasn't fixed yet, Sam. Michael stepped back, the information causing him grief. He never trusted Sam, not after their last incident. Alex seemed just fine having him around, but it was one thing she couldn't control.
"Your friend, Sam, he came asking for information on Amanda. It was no secret where she was kept, but only a fool would try to get her out. It turns out, the fool won this time." Boris said with a laugh, hiding nothing.
"Why did you help him? Are you crazy to think Amanda is a good choice?" Michael yelled in rage.
"I have no allegiances. He offered good money, the same as you. I wondered how long it until you would come. To be honest, I almost forgot since Sam came here over a year ago."
Boris laughed again, clearly letting the vodka take hold. The man sat heavily intoxicated, having little care or regard for the words spoken. For Michael, hearing this happened so long ago was a fear he always lived in. When he and Nikita closed up shop, things had a chance of escalating again. It seems his fears, those flashbacks, came true.
"A year ago?" Michael asked, shaking his head. "Where are they?"
"Only from the beginning will you find the answer, Michael."
Michael paced back and forth, tired of riddles. He wanted answers and pulled his gun, walking over to Boris and pressed it firmly against his head. Michael yelled, demanding the answer. Boris remained unwavering, taking a shot of vodka and slamming the shot glass down. He let out a huge sigh, the burning of vodka making him cringe for a moment.
"You have to the count of three before I pull this trigger…" Michael said, pulling the hammer back on the weapon.
"I already told you, no need to be so harsh. Division lives again…"
Screams came from the club, Michael running to the cameras against the wall. Armed troops rushed through the club, people scattering every direction. Michael ran around, looking for another way out. He approached Boris, demanding an exit. Boris casually stood up, stumbling a little, not rushing around or panicking. His hand tugged a rug back to expose a hatch in the floor. Michael opened it and climbed down. Boris went to close the hatch, saying only one last thing.
"Consider us even for saving my life. My debt is paid."
Boris closed the lid under the rug and went back to his vodka.