London, England
I was ready to collapse and beg forgiveness from the moment I unlocked the door. Lex had dropped me off when he had dropped off some unnecessary equipment. Everyone would be working on a plan to save the key files and not blow up the Counterterrorism Center. I had requested a brief leave of absence. No one had questioned it, not after what they'd seen me do. Dropping all of my stuff on the table, I headed straight for the bathroom. Nina's blood was on my shirt and down my arm, and I had to get it off, changing into my crime scene investigation shirt. Unknowingly, it was the same shirt I'd worn when I'd met Jack.
I sat down hard on the floor, resting my head against the wall with my elbows on my knees and my fingers tightly interlocked. I forced deep breaths out of lungs that didn't want to breathe. I just wanted to die. This wasn't me, this inhuman government machine of death and deception. How had I gone so far? This was never what I wanted. What had I become? The first couple sobs wracked me, and I just sat there alone, crying not for the people that had died or would die if I failed, but just for myself, lost in the going.
There was a knock on the door about twenty minutes later, and I fully intended to ignore it, but decided I didn't want something else to run from, not now. Unsteadily, I managed to get to my feet and unlock the door, eyes bloodshot and looking like hell, to look Michael Colefield in the eyes. His were sympathetic. "I heard you came back," he said, his voice quiet. "I didn't want you to be alone." I just turned away to wipe tears from my eyes as he stepped in and shut the door behind himself. I went back to crying again, silently this time, as I sat down hard on the bed and wondered if I should've shot myself instead.
*Boy, know your place
Lies do not become us
The truth is more attractive
Than a slick and polished mask*
Little did I know he hurt just as much as I did. He folded his jacket over a chair and stood there watching me for a moment before he was just instanteously there, sitting next to me, watching over me. He didn't owe me anything, and I didn't know what he saw in me, but I was in no position to ask.
"I know this hurts," he said.
"I want to die," I said.
"No, you don't," he replied.
I turned my head and looked at him and I could see myself in his eyes.
*Girl, dig down deep
I know there's more between us
There's bound to be a question
You're just dying for me to ask*
"I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore," I said, voice shaky.
Michael took the hand that had been resting on my shoulder, and took both my hands in his own. His grip was warm, especially so since I felt so cold inside. "I felt the exact same way for a very long time after it happened to me. You spend your waking days trying to figure out what you did to deserve it and what you can do to make it right, but there aren't any answers."
"What do you do?"
"You just find something – or someone – to believe in again." He paused. "Can you trust me?"
*If you can be honest
I can be too
If you take the first step
I'll follow you through
But no one wants to bleed
No one wants to hide
No one wants to hurt alone inside*
I nodded, wiping more water from my eyes. "I've always trusted you, Michael."
"Then trust me when I say eventually it will be all right." He exhaled. "I still hurt from killing him and I always will. I never had anyone to open up to about it, not Vaughan, not Angie. I have this chance now, and that's all that matters. I want to be here for you, right now. I want you to know I understand what's happening to you."
"I know."
"And I'm right here."
"I know."
*Child, don't close your eyes
The truth contains much beauty
And though it scars your soul
It can heal the wounds it makes
You've been deceived to think
That pain is to be dreaded
And you've got nothing left
It'll give more than it takes*
He put his arms around me then and let me cry into his shoulder, holding me there in his warm and tight embrace, letting me know I was not alone in the depths of self-torture and suffering that I was looking into now. Only then did I allow myself to admit that there might ever be reparation for my sins. I knew when the tears stopped, the questions would start for me, and they would be hard and brutal. But right that moment I thought things might be okay.
When we pulled back I was able to regain control of myself again. I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me and in our mutual experience there was some sort of balance point. Yet he never let go of my hand. And I, for his sake rather than mine, tried desperately to believe.
*If you can't find a peace
I'll help find it for you
I don't know how
But one thing that's sure
Is I won't leave you now*
"You're a special person, Brittany," he said to me after a moment. "Don't lose yourself now."
"I'll try," I said, "But Michael…"
"What?"
"Twice now, you've saved me, and it means the world to me."
He smiled thinly. "You had to help me."
I was able to smile then, and I said, "Yeah, but you did all the heavy lifting."
He laughed, and I smirked at my usual smart-ass behavior, and things felt a little easier then. As he kissed me, then, I thought I might save my soul just yet.
"I've a few things I need to take care of," I said, "you don't have to stay."
"I'm not going anywhere. I said I'd bring you back with me." He smirked just a little. "What things?"
"Some paperwork. Some morale boosting," I replied, "but mostly, getting back in the game."
Michael just stood to help me and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "That's a good answer."