Two is Company, Four is a crowd
Being in General Operation is a lot like being let out into General Population in prison. You're fair game for anyone who wants to try you for any reason. You have absolutely no protection. No allies. Not even a hope of someone taking pity on you if you ever run into trouble. You were literally thrown to the wolves and given a single bullet to use either to kill yourself or one of the animals crowding in to devour you.
weren't given stations to work out their missions. Those were reserved for operatives on assigned teams. Instead, if you wanted to review a mission parameter, or finger out what it was that Operations riddled about during his often detailed and mind-numbingly boring briefings, you had to beg for a computer to work and hope that someone would be merciful enough to let you use their terminal. Assigned Operatives were extremely possessive of their terminals and were not quick to allow anyone to work on them. I know, because I rarely allowed anyone to work on my terminal when I had one. I didn't want them messing up my settings, or assessing files they weren't supposed to. Sure, all I had to do was log off and allow them to log in with their own credentials, but with so much taken from us already just by being Section operatives, having your own terminal that you could control was a boon not many were willing to share. So when it came time for me to move about the floor searching for a terminal to use so that I could download my mission objective, I found it damn near impossible to find someone to help. I stood in the middle of the work area scanning the occupied seats feeling that same, hopeless feeling I had when I was a freshman in high school trying to find a seat in the lunchroom.
"If you need to find a terminal, they have some available in Systems," said Birkoff as he passed me. He was carrying an armload of panels as he headed back towards his station at Communications.
"Thanks," I called after him. It didn't really matter what I said. He was already preoccupied with whatever it was that he was doing to care what I said.
I went to Systems and found a terminal that did not have an operative hovering over it. After I downloaded the directives to my panel, I collected my belongings and headed towards the Lounge to grab something to eat before I headed out. I was into my third month in G.O and I had already been on and completed twelve missions under various Team Leads, but not one of them was Michael's team. I wasn't even cycled into Beckett's Squad even though I could plainly see two openings on his roster. I signed up for almost all of his missions, but never got chosen. Instead, I was sent on more local intel and surveillance type missions that did not have me anywhere near gunfire or explosives. I was still required to train with my rifle and expected to keep up my scores in sharpshooting and spotting. I attended Master Hiro's Defense class and began studying Mixed Martial Arts. I had heard Michael mastered Muay Thai as well as a kind of Shaolin Monk style martial arts. I wanted to learn the same discipline, but Master Hiro refused to enroll me in the necessary courses.
Once again, I was being stopped for unknown reasons from reaching a personal goal.
I spent three weeks on Hershel's team. He sneered at me when I joined his squad in Transport. I knew he was laughing at the irony of me returning to him in the lowly manner that I was after I had spat at him the second I got promoted to Beckett's Squad.
"Welcome back to the Pig Pen," he snarled. "Didn't take you long to get back in the mud and shit, did it? Now you're back running with us...only this time, I don't have to give a shit if you get left behind...So best you keep up little piglet."
He made a rude snorting sound before turning his attention and his thick ass prescription black-rimmed glasses towards the front of the Convoy. I wanted to shoot him right then and there, but seeing as how we were only on surveillance, we weren't assigned any weapons. All that we had of any kind of lethal capacity were our heavy surveillance gear and a small pack of utility tools that could be used to splice wires and tap into phone lines. The most I could do was to sneak up behind him and turn his neck a 360. As we moved into position, I couldn't help fantasizing about doing the very act.
Then I thought about Michael…
He was off on his own mission somewhere in Sudan. I thought about how he might feel if I suddenly were put on abeyance for murdering my commanding officer. Would he be affected at all? Would he sulk and be agitated about my loss the same as he was with Nikita? I wondered if he even cared that I was no longer on his team. When I last saw him, he was screaming at me from the cockpit of the helicopter. When we landed back at Section, he didn't even turn to look back my way as we made our way down towards the elevators. I could feel the heat of his anger and frustration boiling off his shoulders as we rode down to the main floor. He threw back instructions for us to turn in our equipment to Munitions and download our panels without looking back. Nothing was more heartbreaking than to see him walking away, shoulders slumped and his feet dragging just a little as he went to debrief with Command. I saw him in the window of the Perch, standing with his hands clasped in front of him explaining to both Madeline and Operations the details of what happened during the mission. By the hand gestures, I could tell Operations was not happy with the outcome. Michael handed over his panel and stood staring blankly back as Madeline reviewed the information uplinked to the computer. More discussion and Operations was flinging his arms wildly into the air before Michael was finally dismissed. It wasn't long after that, I was called to Madeline's office and told I would be put on inactive status until after a formal inquiry was done as well as a psychological assessment.
I knew what I had done was wrong, but I didn't do it for the reasons they were saying that I did. I wasn't doing it for Michael...I mean, I was, because he was my Team Lead and I was trusted to get the data from the main computer, but...I didn't do what I did for Michael. I did it because I wanted to complete my assignment. I had to.
He trusted me to do it.
He trusted me…
I had to do it...For the mission...For Michael…
If I hadn't done it, we would have failed. Then what? Section would not have allowed us to return empty-handed. They would have wanted us to come back with something. Even though what I did was not what Section asked, I still managed to complete the assignment and get them what they wanted. So what I had to bend the rules a little. They all did at some point. No one followed the rules to the letter. You couldn't! Not in that kind of situation. Certainly, it was awful that Lopez had to be sacrificed, but he was an egg, and at that time, we were busy making omelets. Any one of us could have gone done that night and Section would not have cared either way so long as in the end, they got what they intended to get. So, no, I don't regret anything that I did. I had to make a decision and I made one. Had it been Michael, I think he would have made the same call. The only difference is, Michael is a demi-god and I'm just a lowly mortal.
I heard the news from someone whispering about it in Systems. I could barely believe what I was hearing myself. Had to see it with my own eyes. I raced out of Level 6 and headed straight for Medical. My heart was pounding in my chest. I could hear ringing like alarms sounding in my ears. Sweat was already soaking into my skully and my mouth went dry. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. I couldn't have this much bad luck.
I rounded several corners looking into triage bays before I came to one nearly overwhelmed with medical personnel attending to a newly brought in operative. Madeline stood near the bed watching. I could see Michael on the opposite side of the bed, still dressed in his field gear and looking both concerned and rigid. Lying on the bed was a blonde-haired woman wearing a bloodied dirty tank top and ratted grey fatigues. She looked like she had been through hell. Her face was bruised and cut. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut. The sun-spun locks of her hair fell in shards all about her face and shoulders. She allowed one arm to be given over to the medical team to accept an IV while the other reached through the opening between the hand railing and the bed. Her fingers grasped firmly to the sleeve of Michael's jacket. Even though it was slight, I saw him move his fingers to her and touch her.
Why?
How?
She was dead! Blown to pieces inside a chemical plant! How did she survive that? How could she still be living?
WHY WASN'T SHE DEAD?
I turned away and marched back to the main level. Seeing Michael with her drew out a volcano of emotions all tumbling over the top of each other. I felt chaotic, tumultuous...violent. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, or what I would do. All I could see was his finger move over to her hand in a way that told everything.
The rumors were all true.
They were together, at least on some level more than just mentor and mentee. More than as Coach and Material. There were a lot of questions surrounding how Nikita was returned to Section. Michael said that he only happened to find her while out doing data reconnaissance, Command had their suspicions. It wasn't the first time that Michael flubbed the truth to protect someone. Even though he was a very skilled liar, he had tells. Although they were hard to detect by most people and even some sophisticated scanners, Michael gave himself away with the expression in his eyes. I could always tell when he was truly invested with something by the intensity in his stare. Whenever he was not particularly interested, he always held a very far away look, like his brain went on vacation leaving only his body to naturally react to stimuli and function in practiced movements. While he stood next to Nikita's bedside, it was obvious that he was hiding something. Maybe Madeline didn't see it right off, but I did almost immediately.
Their story about her having been kidnapped instead of being killed off was only partially believable. It was not uncommon for operatives to be held for questioning and tortured. We were trained to anticipate it and to accept that it would also be our last moment on earth. It was highly unlikely that once discovered an operative would manage to keep silent after being put through all kinds of encouragement short of just being killed off. If after a few days of hell an operative still kept quiet, a slit throat or a bullet to the brain was usually the outcome. For Nikita to have been subjected to all manner of brutality and dehumanizing acts and not give up one syllable of what Section was doing went beyond normal dedication.
It was downright heroic!
They didn't put her back with Michael. They stuck her with a dude called Jurgen who was supposed to be a nightmare. He was highly ranked, even higher than Michael maybe, and heavily depended on by Section to rehabilitate and fast track operatives to Active Status. He was a bulldog with truth serum running through his veins. Those who had the misfortune of running into him often said he was harsh and difficult, impossible to reason with, and even less apt to give mercy. The one thing that those that trained under him would claim universally was that if nothing else, he was overall fair. He detested liars and he let anyone that dared try to deflect his focus know that he hated liars. Even though the punishments for being found out as a liar and honing skills were nearly identical, it was a greater threat to have him suspect you of lying to him. His methods were borderline sadistic and others thought maybe he enjoyed the pain his mentees suffered at his hand. He did not care if you were a man, woman, boy, or infant, if you crossed him, you were going to understand not to do it again...If you got a chance to do it again.
I watched as Nikita followed behind Jurgen like a dog tethered to a new master. Michael continued to perform on missions, but it was clear his attentions were elsewhere more now than ever before. It was as though with her not there, he was distracted, and with her there, he was even more off-balanced.
He was constantly disappearing into places where prying surveying eyes could not follow and speaking in whispers to Nikita whenever they managed to come close to one another. He juggled time between managing his team, and "checking up" on Nikita's progress with Jurgen. I heard through a few filters that there was a rumor of a lover's tryst between the three of them. Somehow, Nikita had become romantically involved with Jurgen likely because they were constantly around each other. Personally, I couldn't see the attraction, but I'm not Nikita. The less time she spent around Michael the better. For me at least. Even though he still behaved like he was unbothered by their connection, the moment the two of them entered his presence, it was obvious that something was bothering him about them. It was then that it hit me. Like a ton of bricks falling off a building. I was utterly destroyed by the realization of just why Michael seemed so out of sorts while Nikita was gone, and why he remained out of it when she was brought back in.
The rumors were true. They did have a relationship...at one time. And now, it was shattered and he was having a difficult time recovering from the heartbreak.
I loathed Nikita more than I could anyone else in the world. Had she been some infidel hostile or someone, I would have taken her out without so much as a blink of care. She was the girl with all the gifts and she squandered the one perfect love that ever walked the earth. She gave it all up for some retired old General Patton wannabe whose whole idea of a successful mission was if he was the sole survivor. Command started loading the three of them up on missions and from what I could hear, the tension between them was as thick as Hershel's glasses. This wasn't the first time someone came between Michael and Nikita. There were other missions that she had been sent on that pitted the two of them against one another, which was why I always thought that Nikita didn't care anything about Michael. This was why I have always been confused about why Michael bothered with Nikita!
It just doesn't make sense!
He is amazing at everything else in the world! He can have any woman on the planet. Hell! He can have me, for Christ's sake! I'm practically doing all but begging for his attention, but damn it! Out of all the women he could focus on at Section, or even in the real world for that matter, he had to choose a dumb blonde bimbo to get hung up on! To add insult, she didn't even want him back! That was plain to see. She was running around smiling and giggling with Jurgen, going out to dinner with him, hanging on his every word, and touching his arm all in plain view of Michael who just stood there absorbing it all. I hated her for what she was doing to him. She knew how he felt about her and yet she still went after Jurgen.
That bitch!
I vowed then that I would do everything in my power to win Michael over, to turn his eyes away from that impossible death trap and back towards someone that could love him the way he needed to be loved. Nikita was ignorant of what she had before her. She wanted to have the world and all the gods in it. She had no idea what it was that she was throwing away when she started seeing Jurgen and left Michael.
But that was fine by me. The less time she spent with Michael, the more time it gave me to devise my own strategy and start him on the path towards my heart. He already had it, he just didn't know it yet. I would help him find true happiness and I would finally get what I wanted all along…
What I deserved.
