An AU for 2x12 "Sanctuary". What if Sean managed to shoot Nikita.
The trigger was loose under his finger. He could've so easily pulled it- release his fury and fear in one swift move. It wasn't a real solution, but it'd certainly ease his anxiety. He wasn't entirely sure what had stopped him. His mind was clouded of all judgement. He could only focus on the blood on his hands and the moving target on the beach. Nothing else mattered, not even Alex struggling to take down the assailant. He needed to make him pay for what he had done, get vengeance, and gain justice. However, the back of his mind pulled back. He shouldn't shoot. Nothing was lost yet. There was still time to fix everything. And if not, then Sean Pierce died.
Michael should've expected something terrible would happen. He and Nikita were finally talking. Of course the universe wouldn't let that last for long. It also wouldn't let the conversation go smoothly. There was a lot to discuss after London. She had left, and he had stayed. They needed to talk about intentions, and emotions, and, most importantly, what it meant for their future. He didn't see the latter as a major cause for concern. He knew he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. He could have her and his son. Yet she thought differently. The uncertainty in her eyes was palpable as she asked, "We beat Division, and then what?"
A few months ago, she probably wouldn't have had that question. Nikita would've made some quip about her and Michael retiring on a beach somewhere, maybe even with a dog. But at that moment, she was worried that their future had changed- that he didn't want that normal life with her. God, had he messed up if she believed that. He needed to make it right. However, the world around them had other ideas. As he drew closer to her, one of the wide windows facing the beach shattered. Shards of glass went flying, and the two dropped to the ground.
Recovering quickly, Michael reached for the closest gun and prepared to race after the shooter. He didn't have a clue as to where the shot came from, or how it came to be. But that didn't matter if the threat was still out there. He turned towards Nikita to see if she was ready to rush the beach with him. He hadn't heard anything from her, save for a grunt of pain. Once his eyes landed on her, though, he understood why. Dark red blood marred the bright blue of her blouse. The blood steadily grew with each frantic beat of her heart, seeping into everything. Blood bloomed along her abdomen. The stream of blood just wouldn't stop.
"Nikita! No, no, no," Instantly, Michael dropped to his knees and abandoned his weapon to press his hands into her side. Nikita groaned at the intense pressure, body seizing in pain. Tears sprang to his eyes at the sight, and dread clenched his heart. Yet he had to force it aside. She needed him; he couldn't go all deer in the headlights on her. It was just so hard with her blood pulsing against his hands and slipping through his fingers. He couldn't get it to stop. He needed it to stop, "Birkhoff! I need the med kit! Now!"
Birkhoff didn't need to be yelled at. He was already on his way. He had heard the gunshot from his room, and immediately sprinted to the livingroom to see what was the matter. Once he saw the blood, he dived for the medical kit under the sink. He also grabbed the burner phone by his computer. The number to the discreet (and expensive) doctor Nikita had called when his hand was shattered was probably still saved to the contacts. They could call and everything would be alright. It had to be okay.
Nikita kept pushing at Michael's shoulder, however. His hands were pressed harshly into her lower abdomen, and she shoved as hard as she could to make him go away. He thought it was because of the pain. The bullet and his attempts to stop her bleeding were too much to take. But he refused to back off; he'd do anything to just make the blood stop. That wasn't her reasoning, though. Her wide eyes kept casting towards the beach outside. Forming words past her pain and shock was increasingly difficult, yet she finally managed to choke, "Help Alex."
Following her line of sight to the shattered window, Michael spotted two figures fighting in the sand. One of them must've been Alex, the other the shooter. Leave it to Nikita to be more focused and concerned about everyone else while she bled out. However, Michael refused to abandon her side. He was terrified that if he let go of her, she'd slip away from him. He couldn't let that happen. They had their future to discuss, to plan. They had something bright to talk about- something that would dispel the darkness that they had fallen into. He couldn't let that go. Michael needed to stay by Nikita.
"Mikey, go. I have her," Strangely calm, maybe because he was so freaked, Birkhoff kneeled next to Michael and placed a clean cloth against Nikita's wound. A near scream tore from her throat at the force of both of the men's hands, but she swallowed it down- probably for Michael's sake. She shoved at him once more, so much fear and pain welling in her eyes. He had to help Alex before he helped her. If the shooter wasn't stopped, more of them could get hurt. And that was the last thing she wanted, even if her breathing was stuttered.
It took more strength than Michael thought he could muster to let Birkhoff take over. Nikita was in good hands, he was just letting his anxiety control him. He had to breathe, react like it was any other crisis situation (even if it definitely wasn't). The first step was to clear the danger. He grabbed for his gun again, and regretfully left the safehouse to storm the beach. His fear seriously needed to be squashed. He couldn't let it control him. Things might become worse if he did. So instead, he allowed his fury to boil over him. Rage seemed to be a much more manageable emotion for him.
Whoever shot Nikita needed to pay. They had to be punished in the worst possible way. Michael was ready and willing to kill them. Except, once he had Sean Pierce in his sights, he couldn't pull the trigger. A voice in the back of his head, that sounded just like Nikita, told him to wait; the team might be able to get information out of him. Considering the looming threat of Oversight and Division, Michael couldn't ignore the prompting. He switched his grip on his gun, and pistol whipped his target. The Seal collapsed unconscious against Alex.
She shoved him off of her, and struggled to her feet. Alex and Sean had been fighting since she had tackled him. Hopefully, her attack threw off his aim and he hadn't managed an accurate shot. If only she had spotted him perched low in the sand sooner, then he wouldn't have been able to shoot at all. Yet it could be alright. Michael had joined her on the beach, after all. It wasn't until she turned to him to express her thanks, that Alex saw the blood on his hands. Cold dread washed over her. Michael was there, but not Nikita. Shouldn't they have been together, partners in everything, "Michael, where's Nikita?"
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to say anything. One glance at the lividity in his gaze and his fierce grip on his weapon, Alex understood what had happened. She had been too late. It wasn't alright. Nikita had been shot. The young woman's first and only reaction was to kick Sean's unconscious body. It was the best way she knew how to express the shock and rage at what he had done. She thought she could've trusted him, but he was as horrible as the bastards that controlled him, "You son of a bitch!"
"We need to get him inside," Yanking Alex off of Sean, Michael found his head. The two had to clear the scene, tie up their captive, and return to Nikita's side; though, his main focus was solely on Nikita. Birkhoff was handling the situation, and promised to call their doctor friend if things worsened. But Michael couldn't take the risk of being away from her for too long. He didn't think his heart would've been able to handle it.
Alex and Michael struggled to carry the dead weight of a Navy Seal- plus his rifle- up the beach and into the house, yet they refused to complain. They just moved step to step and planned to deal with everything else later. Sean was eventually dropped into a chair to be duct taped to. His rifle was unloaded and placed far out of reach. Alex focused on securing their captive, while Michael returned to Nikita. Somehow, Birkhoff had gotten her on a cot. Her blouse had been ripped open, and her bullet wound was clearly visible. Before he was asked about what happened, the hacker shakily explained, "I tried to get the bullet out, but my fucking hand…"
"Go clean up and help Alex, then," Hurriedly washing his hands and pushing Birkhoff aside, Michael commanded. The hacker was a bit dazed, yet once he noticed an unconscious Sean, he snapped to attention. At least the situation with the shooter was resolved, or on its way to being resolved. Things could fall back under the team's control. They knew what they had to do, and they could focus on that. If only their adrenaline and anxiety would let them settle.
"Not quite… through and through… just muscle," Through harsh breaths, Nikita informed Michael. He should've guessed she had been the one to instruct Birkhoff on what to do; her emergency medical skills and field dressing ability were spectacular. But she had to let someone else take care of her. He could assess a wound and begin to heal it as well. She was right about the bullet only tearing through skin and muscle (thank God) and the bullet was still lodged in her abdomen. Birkhoff's damaged hand just created a mess of blood and fabric. Michael would have to clean the wound again, putting Nikita through more pain and discomfort.
"Shh, it's okay. We got it. Just try to relax," With gloves, some swabs of alcohol, and tweezers, Michael began removing the bullet. One of Nikita's hands clutched the fabric of her jeans, the other held tightly to his bicep. She wouldn't relax, nor would she let the pain drag her into unconsciousness. She bit her lip in an attempt not to scream, and grabbed anything she could so she wouldn't shove him away from her. It would've been easier if she wasn't so stubborn. Yet he simply ignored it and kept working. It'd all be over soon.
"Easy for you…" Nikita breathed, the slightest bit of laughter escaping her. The corner's of Michael's lips twitched upwards. At least she still had her humor. She relaxed a tad when he somewhat smiled, allowing him to remove the bullet without any further difficulty. They both sighed in relief. However, that was the easy part. He had to clean the wound once more, then stitch it closed. His sutures, though held well, were sloppy. Nikita's body tensed once more at the thought of it. Michael just took a deep breath and focused only on her.
As soon as he poured the disinfectant on the open wound, however, Nikita finally screamed in pain. All movement in the safehouse stopped at the heart wrenching sound. Alex and Birkhoff tore their attention away from Sean, and Michael stilled. His heart broke at the sound, especially since he knew there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He just had to close the wound as fast and as securely as he could, and continue cleaning. Fortunately, the fight had drained out of her. She remained on the cot, eyes closed and full of tears, and breath shallow.
Slowly, Birkhoff and Alex returned to Sean. It was difficult to leave Michael and Nikita alone, but there wasn't anything they could do. Their captive had to be their priority. The two got him undressed and strapped to the chair, and began searching for anything that could tip off an awaiting Division team. There was nothing on the Seal. His phone had also been turned off, and the perimeter was clear. Birkhoff shared the confusing fact with Michael once he placed the bandage on Nikita's wound, "No coms or wires. And nothing on the perimeter. He's alone."
"He got here somehow. I think he followed me," Alex muttered, trying to figure out how Sean had found the safehouse. It was supposed to be a secure location; no one could arrive there unless they knew about it. The only possible way the Seal discovered the place was if he followed someone. And the only person he possibly could've followed was Alex. Tears sprang to the young woman's eyes at the revelation. She hadn't meant for that to happen when she reunited with the team. She just wanted to defeat Division. Approaching her best friend, she apologized profusely, "Nikita, I'm so sorry. I should've been more careful. I'm sorry."
"You got your watch back," Barely loud enough to hear, Nikita attempted to reach for the watch on Alex's wrist. Michael stopped her from straining herself. He secured a blanket around her, and gently brushed her matted hair off of her sweaty forehead. Her eyes slipped closed, but not for as long as he would've liked. She fought rest to glance at Alex. The young woman stared at her father's watch, a million thoughts firing off in her mind.
One thought soon broke through the fog, and Alex turned to Sean with fiery lividity in her veins. He had given her back her father's watch. He made it such a sweet and grand gesture, giving her back something that helped fill the holes in her heart. Yet it had all been a ruse. He used her so he could kill her best friend. Ripping the watch off of her wrist, she threw it harshly at the Seal. The watch face cracked on impact, "Ты гребаная ублюдочная крыса!"
"Wait until he's conscious. We've got a lot to discuss," Once again, Michael held Alex back from unleashing her full fury on Sean Pierce. As much as he would've enjoyed watching her tear him limb from limb- and as much as he wanted to join in- they wouldn't get anywhere while he remained unconscious. The team could interrogate him, maybe even torture him, once he could speak. Nikita seemed more interested in that plan. She stared at the Seal as if she was trying to understand his actions and motivations. Michael sighed.
Apparently, the rapid surgery wasn't the hardest part. Getting her to rest would be the challenge. But he found himself softly smiling at the fact. She wouldn't change, which meant there was hope their future wouldn't change either. The disasters they constantly found themselves in could all work out in the end. It had to. The team managed to survive from one crisis to the next, after all. They just had to get through all the hell first.