Michael Colefield's Code Five-slaying experience: about a year's worth of explosions, subterfuge, chases, you name it, he's probably seen it. Of course his job is a flurry of on-the-job baptism-by-fire training. My Code Five-slaying experience: everything Michael had said to me and watching Anthony Head and James Marsters on Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Not exactly the same thing. And yet three Code Fives were right there, probably to kill Michael, and endangering our mission would be an added bonus. Experience was relative when you were experiencing.
"Leticia, Vaughn, get back," I said quickly, producing the gun Michael had given me. "Get Michelle into the car and protect her."
"What about…" Leticia started.
"Don't worry about us," I said quickly, not adding, I'm doing that already.
They obeyed my orders and briskly assisted Michelle into the back seat of the unlocked Neon. I think there's part of Leticia that still gets creeped out when she sees me with a gun. There's part of me that still gets creeped out when I see me with a gun. But she had Vaughn to cover her, and as much as he cared for her, he'd do a bang-up job. I flipped the safety off of my gun and looked to Michael for instruction. He nodded subtly, and I prepared to fire.
I didn't quite get that far. They must have recognized Michael or something, because the whole exchange turned into a melee. My first thought was to protect him, and I moved to intercede, but I got shoved out of the way. I felt a stabbing pain in my arm as I slid across the asphalt, knowing I'd hurt myself; still, I dragged myself back to my feet. Michael had dusted one and was dealing with the other two; remembering what he had done for me in London, I rushed in, grabbed one by the collar and threw him off. The two of us went down hard together, but I managed to pop off two shots into his torso. Michael dusted the other vampire.
Breathing hard, I climbed to my feet from what was now a big pile of copper-colored dust. The pain in my arm was still there and I felt the stinging from when you lose skin but don't break it. I looked over at Michael who was easing back from being pinned against the car. "You all right?"
"I'm fine." He was staring at me as Vaughn, Michelle and Leticia took that as their cue to climb out of the Neon's backseat. "You took on all three of them."
"And?"
"When you knew you'd lose."
"I didn't care."
We paused, and I went looking for something to suck up three piles of dust. "Leticia, I can't believe I'm saying this," I said over my shoulder, "did your dad leave the hand-vac in your car still?"
She couldn't suppress a chuckle as she popped the trunk. Leticia's father is known for leaving things in her car after borrowing it when his car was in the shop and one of those things had at one point been a portable, battery-operated vacuum. She passed it to Michael, who passed it to me. I could not believe I was on my knees sucking up copper-colored debris from an air force base parking lot. "Have Vaughn call in the sitrep," I said, "and Michael, you want to explain to the others what just happened, please?"
"Code Fives," Michael said quickly. "Vampires."
Leticia was looking over at me, the resident Buffy freak; Vaughn and Michelle were staring. I just nodded reassuringly.
"Forget your crosses, stakes and holy water," Michael was saying, "they can only be killed by carbon-tipped bullets and the active ingredient in garlic. And they can regenerate if their remains come in contact with the blood of a living Code Five, which is why we have to take that with us." He exhaled. "CIB's job is to take them out. That's why they've lured me to L.A., with the intent of … using my feelings for Brittany to make me vulnerable and kill me."
"So what do we do?" Vaughn said after a moment.
"What can we do?" I said, channeling my best Moira Kelly circa The Cutting Edge kind of smirk. "We kick a little ass."
DoubleTree Suites Downtown Los Angeles
The mood had calmed down but not gotten any more reassuring on the drive over. Vaughn had booked two adjoining rooms with the theory that since it was now late, driving back and getting everything sorted out was too much of a hassle. We would return and sort everything out in the morning. Leticia and I would share a room with Michelle and see what we could get out of her. Right now, as we all stood around, she was just unnerved, and Leticia was trying to get her to settle in. I had dropped my leather jacket on the bed and headed straight for the bathroom.
Looking at myself in the mirror I decided I had definitely seen better days. I had skinned one hand in the fall and it burned; I had also accrued some nice scratches. But the kicker was the wound on my upper arm. I peeled off my black T-shirt and decided to take a look at the thing. Blood had run halfway to my elbow from a thin cut that ran from my shoulder another three or four inches down. Wincing, I grabbed a washcloth and started to clean the gravel out of it. Just because you get hurt often doesn't mean you know how to deal with the pain. Especially if you don't have Band-Aids.
The doorknob turned behind me, and I turned round to see Michael walk in and carefully shut the door behind himself. He was carrying a roll of gauze. "Thought you might need that," he said, and I thanked him. Just moving the arm to catch the roll hurt and I bit my lip. I was going to have to get used to that, especially since I'm left-handed. I turned around again and started measuring the appropriate amount of gauze, but I suck at math.
*I don't want to be the one who hurts you
I don't want to be the one who fails
I'm keeping my head on straight
So you can trust me again*
His fingers were cold on my shoulder, and I almost jumped at the sensation of the cold, the contact of his touch, and the innate pain. I arched an eyebrow and looked at him in the mirror, knowing from the latter that his fingers were roaming over the bruise I had gotten when I had, in the midst of apprehending Nina Myers, been accidentally thrown back into a table at Vincent's Restaurant in London. "Don't touch that," I admonished. "It still hurts sometimes."
"I gave that to you."
"Not like you had a choice. She was choking me."
"I threw you into a table." He exhaled and his breath was warm against the back of my neck. "Wonderful parting gift."
I finished bandaging my arm and turned to regard him as I slipped my shirt back on. "What do you want, Michael?"
He stopped, walked over and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, clasping his hands together and composing his thoughts for a second before he looked at me. "We haven't finished talking," he said, "and since there is the slightest chance I may not be alive much longer, I want to make sure we deal with this."
*I struggled all my life with empty moments
The shadow of a hole I'd never fill
Any happiness I had was empty
It wasn't good enough, I wanted love*
"Let's deal with it, then," I said, folding my arms. "Michael, this … this is not Buffy and I am not Buffy and you are not Angel. You just can't walk into my life whenever you feel like it and walk back out whenever you feel like it. That's not fair to me and it's not fair to the rest of the people in my life who have to deal with me when I deal with you. We need to come to a decision and we need to stand by it."
"I can't just leave England," he reminded me. "Even if I weren't fighting against the invasion, I still live there, I've got a flat, I've got a life, I can't just throw it all into a couple of suitcases. And what about you? You're committed to CTU now. You're the third highest ranking person in the building. What can we do?"
I exhaled. "I only committed to a career in CTU after you left me. Once you left, I didn't have anything but the work and my friends who were involved in my work. It may be what I chose, but it's not what I am." I chose my next words carefully. "If you would have asked me, I would have stayed."
*I don't want to think of life without you
I don't want to take a step alone
It scares me to think I almost lost you
Just let me know you're fine, I'm on the line*
"You wouldn't have been happy."
"Maybe not at first, but I would have dealt with it. I was that sure of you. Granted, I'm not even eighteen yet, so who's to say I have the emotional stability and capacity to figure out what I want with my life anyway?"
"Don't talk like that."
"Sometimes it just happens." I looked over at him, trying not to break down when it mattered. "It's not even really about that, Mike. I would've given up everything for you. I told you that I loved you in front of everybody else … but you've never told me that you loved me."
*I'm thinking of our whole life, baby
Won't you help me find a way?*
There was a flash of light behind Michael's eyes that reminded me of when we met. In that instant I was taken back to when and where it all began, when I still had my innocence and my belief that this was all just temporary. We looked at each other, into each other, in the heartbeat I waited for an answer.
"That's not something you can say after spending a week together," he said quietly.
I nodded and started toward the door.
*I don't want to be the one who hurts you
I just want to know that you're all right*
"Don't leave."
At the pleading tone in his voice I hesitated and turned back. Through the mist forming at the corners of my eyes I saw an infinite sadness at what he was doing in his. "We spent four days together in London and now a day here," he told me. "That's not enough time for us. But if you'd asked me if you … struck a chord in me … and if I thought I could love you, I would have told you yes."
My heart skipped a beat. "What do you want from me, Michael?"
"I want you to give me time and to give yourself time. I want to not be risking both our lives and be able to date you like normal people date. I want to do this right."
"When?"
"I don't know when. Since my life's in your hands."
*I'm keeping my head on straight
So you can trust me again*
I looked into his eyes and wanted desperately to believe him. Michael closed the distance between us and kissed me gently on the forehead, holding me close for fleeting seconds. "You should see to Michelle and get some sleep," he said softly. "We have a lot to do tomorrow."
"I'll be ready."
I was wrong.