"Medic! Please! Somebody help! Medic!" Nikita screamed into her com. She couldn't waste any time. She couldn't be overwhelmed by what she had done to Michael, by the car in flames next to her, by Ann's dead and burning body, by the fact that Amanda had survived yet again. Nikita couldn't allow herself to think. She simply had to act. Relying on her emergency training, she managed to move Michael's heavy unconscious body to the side of the road. They were away from the fire and anything else that might hurt them. Michael should be okay until help arrived. As long as help arrived soon.
"Nikita! What is it? What happened?" Ryan replied instantly, matching her frantic urgency. He hadn't heard from Nikita or Michael since they had chased after Amanda. The radio silence concerned him. It was too long without contact. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ryan couldn't even guess what exactly it was. Nikita sounded so frantic and scared. She didn't seem relieved that Amanda was finally dead. She wasn't dejectedly stating the mission had failed. She was begging for help. Nikita was actually asking for help. Things weren't just wrong: things were catastrophic.
"I need a med-evac now!" Screaming over the tears in her eyes, Nikita ordered. Michael was so pale. He was limp and pale in her arms. He wouldn't gain consciousness. He wouldn't even move. She could barely tell that he was still alive. Her only comfort was the pulse under her fingertips. However, it wasn't steady. Michael's heartbeat was erratic and weak and unsure. Nikita didn't know how long he could go without proper medical attention. Her makeshift tourniquet wouldn't hold long. He needed a doctor. He needed to be healed.
"The closest one is an hour out. Can you move?" Birkhoff wondered, sparing a frightened glance at Ryan. He had less knowledge of what was occurring than Division's director. He had stayed with Sonya for a while. He ensured she was alright and swore that she would be safe from then on. It was only after he was satisfied that Sonya was okay that he returned to Ops. Nikita's panicked scream for help was the first thing he had heard. Honestly, the sound scared him so much, he couldn't follow her request for a second. He froze. But when she screamed again, Birkhoff sent the closest medical team to hers and Michael's location.
Nikita's heart sank. An hour. Division's closest med team was an hour away. That was too long. Michael couldn't wait that long. He was already bleeding through the tourniquet. Her scarf was doing nothing to stop all the bleeding. She tried to fix it. She tried to tie off the blood flow. But her scarf was covered in blood, and it kept slipping through her hands, and blood was getting everywhere, and Michael grew paler, and his pulse got weaker. He wasn't going to last an hour. Why was the med team so far away. Where was their help, "Nerd, please. Help him."
"What's going on?" Storming into Ops, Alex demanded. Her voice wasn't as commanding as she wanted it to be. There was a frightened squeak to her tone that she couldn't help. She had been dealing with Baker's dead body and the aftermath of her mole hunt. She had been giving Sonya and Birkhoff space and avoiding the others. Yet, when she heard Nikita's plea, she sprinted into the room. The two agents were supposed to have been successful in the field. After everything they had planned and done in Division, the rest of the mission was supposed to be a success. But Nikita's demand said otherwise. Something terrible happened.
"I can't… I can't see them," Staring dumbfounded at his computer, Birkhoff admitted. He had Michael's and Nikita's location thanks to their coms, but he couldn't get a clear image of them. There were no street cameras in their area. And it was too dark for a satellite to capture them. The hacker was completely blind. The only way to receive any answers was for Nikita or Michael to talk. However, the latter didn't appear to be an option. Michael hadn't said a word or even made a sound since Nikita started screaming. Obviously, the med-evac was for him.
"Nikita!" Ryan shouted for her attention. The team needed her to talk. The medical team was on its way. Michael would be helped as soon as they reached him. In the meantime, Nikita had to explain to her team what happened. They needed to know what happened to Michael. They had to know if Amanda was alive or not; though, gauging from Nikita's panic, they were going to assume that the bitch was still alive. Whatever happened in the field didn't go the team's way. Their plans had failed, and they were in an even worse situation than before.
"Please. He needs help. Just send a medic," Although Nikita knew she had to talk to her team, she couldn't bring herself to do it- not then. Not when Michael needed her more. She silenced her com to keep her attention on her fiancé. Her scarf was completely soaked in blood. It couldn't be used as a tourniquet. Nothing could have been able to stop the amount of blood Michael was losing. He needed stitches or something else. But help was still an hour away. It was up to Nikita to stop all that blood. Except, she had nothing to help him with. All she had was her bloody scarf. And a knife.
The knife she had used to kill Ann and save Michael had been blown aside when the car exploded. It was next to where Nikita sat. She could see the flames of the fire reflecting in the blade. She had heard that doctors cauterized really bad wounds. In order to stop the bleeding, they burned the injured flesh. Nikita could do that. She could cauterize Michael's wound to stop the bleeding. All she had to do was heat the knife in the fire. And she couldn't think. Thinking too much about her actions would make her stop. She couldn't think. She could only act. She had to act past the screams that tore out of Michael's throat as the scorched blade touched his skin.
Ryan instructed the medical team to inform them of everything the second they arrived on the scene. If they could get Nikita to talk to them, that would be perfect. But Ryan severely doubted it. The team would have to rely on whatever the medics could observe. As he thought about that, Division's director also sent a team of agents stationed nearby to the scene. The more eyes, the more hands, the more help, the better. Alex held the same belief. She began to leave Ops as quickly as she had arrived. Before she could get too far, Ryan stopped her. They didn't need any more unknown variables, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to Nikita," Alex wasn't asking for permission. She was even farther out than a medical team was, yet helping Nikita in the field wasn't her intention. There was nothing she could've done in that regard. She could, however, calm her best friend down. She might've seemed reasonable over the coms; she was able to communicate her needs. But Alex knew that Nikita was freaking out. If she wasn't able to explain herself, if she kept begging for help, then she wasn't truly with the team. She needed someone to ground her. With Michael injured and presumably unconscious, it was up to her best friend to calm her.
Although Ryan knew that a familiar face could help Nikita with the situation, he didn't think Alex should be the one to go. She had just relapsed using experimental performance enhancers. There was no telling what kind of effect that would have on her mind and body. She shouldn't be rushing off until they knew she was okay. However, Alex didn't care about herself. She was going to Nikita, that was it, "You want answers, right? Nikita's freaking out way too much to talk, and the one person who could possibly calm her down is… I'm going. Birkhoff…"
"Already on it. The plane will also wait to bring you guys home," Birkhoff had begun to acquire transport for Alex the instant he noticed her leaving. He wanted to go as well, yet he soon thought better of it. Too many people crowding Nikita for answers and being worried about Michael wouldn't be helpful; it'd be overwhelming. Also, Birkhoff didn't want to leave Sonya alone. Her killchip was deactivated, and the mole spying on her was dead. But he was still so concerned about her safety. He just wanted to keep his eyes on her for a while. He wanted to know she was really there with him.
Nodding her thanks, Alex hurried to her transport. She quickly stopped by the locker room before she left and grabbed the extra set of clothes Michael and Nikita kept around. She had a feeling that they were going to need them. She also had a feeling that she should call Sean. It wasn't a concrete feeling. It was more of a gut feeling. Something tragic had happened to his sister. He should know about it. Sean should be kept in the loop. Maybe he could help the team get Nikita to talk. He'd know what to say to her.
However, Alex immediately shoved the feeling away. She didn't want to talk to Sean. She didn't want to be the one to have to explain everything he had chosen to miss. That could be someone else's job. Her job was comforting Nikita. About what exactly, she had no idea. Alex had no clue what had the former rogue so frantic. The only thing that she actually did know was that she didn't like the uncertain emotions rising through her. She wanted to silence them and be able to focus. Unfortunately, the only way she knew how to do that had gotten her seriously hurt. She didn't have a healthy way to cope with the pain. She just had to push her suffering aside.
Division's med-evac finally arrived. Michael remained unconscious. But he had stopped bleeding, and his pulse was steady. Nikita had held onto him the entire hour they waited. She refused to let him go, even as he was moved to a helicopter. The med team tried to separate her and talk to her; they asked what had happened. All she could mutter was that there had been an accident, and he had been trapped. She wouldn't speak any more. She only held onto her fiancé and begged that they go to a hospital.
A military hospital was nearby. While medics assessed the situation and what kind of help Michael needed, the helicopter flew them there. Division agents were waiting with black badges and a cover story that they were CIA agents. Birkhoff could support all the details with his computer. Michael was able to move to the ER quickly. Nikita followed the whole way. However, she was eventually stopped in the lobby. She didn't know why. Why would anyone want to keep her from Michael. She was always by his side. The person yelling at her knew that. Why else would he be demanding an explanation, "Ma'am. Ma'am! What happened?"
"I… there was a crash, and he… He was stuck, and med-evac…" Nikita's voice didn't sound like her own. Maybe it was hoarse from screaming into the coms. Maybe the smoke from the fire coated her throat. Maybe that was just how she sounded when she choked on a sob. Nikita wasn't sure. She barely even recognized that her voice sounded so far away and distant. She was just focused on Michael in the stretcher. He kept retreating further and further down the hall. He didn't move. He never moved. He just slipped past the large doors away from her.
Suddenly, Nikita lunged after him. He couldn't leave her. Michael had to stay with her. She needed him by her side for the rest of her life. He couldn't leave. Shoving past whoever was trying to talk to her, Nikita sprinted towards the doors keeping him from her. Michael needed her just as much as she needed him. Yet arms circled around. First, it was only one pair. But as she kept running, another set of hands grabbed her. They dragged her away. No matter how much she fought, they dragged her away. She kicked and clawed and squirmed, but she couldn't stop them. They were determined to keep her from him, "No! No! Let me see him!"
"She's in shock. Check her for any injuries, calm her down, and make sure she doesn't interfere," The person talking to Nikita ordered. She realized then that he was a doctor. However, she refused to listen to his command. She kept fighting them. She didn't matter. Whatever injuries she had sustained in the accident, in the fight with Ann, in the explosion, wasn't important. Everyone's attention should be on Michael. He needed to be healed. He had to gain consciousness and come back to her. She was fine. The doctors had to worry about him.
An agent forced Nikita into a waiting room chair. She had the vaguest thought that she knew who it was. She believed the agent was Vasquez, a fellow recruit. But Nikita wasn't able to grasp that idea for long. Her attention kept getting splintered towards where Michael had disappeared to. What was happening to him. Would he be alright. She had to see if he was okay. Yet all of her attempts to get out of the chair were thwarted. The agent kept shoving her back down. Nikita wanted to scream. That wasn't fair. She needed to see Michael. Yet before she could make one last escape attempt, a soothing voice whispered, "This is how you help him."
Finally, Nikita stilled. She had to trust the doctors. She had waited so long for them to help Michael, she could put her trust in them. If she ran in there, she'd ruin their operation. She couldn't do that to Michael. She had to let him have the best care he could receive- far better care than she was able to provide. It went against every instinct in her body, but she had to sit in the uncomfortable waiting room chair and let Michael go. He needed the doctors then, not her. She'd be by his side later. She had to have him later.
Alex received the hospital's location from the med-evac team. She rushed straight there from the airport and used the same fake CIA cover Birkhoff had created for the agents. She assumed that the fiercely determined look in her eyes helped make her black badge more convincing. The young woman was able to sprint right into the ER. Nikita wasn't hard to find. Body shaking, she sat tensely in a chair facing the doors to the operating rooms. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were unfocused. And her clothes were covered in blood. Alex couldn't help but gasp. It was like she had walked into a horror movie, "Oh, God, Nik. Is that Michael's blood?"
"Alex…" Almost dream-like, Nikita responded. She hardly seemed to register that her best friend was right in front of her. Alex took tentative steps towards her. Things were far worse than she had thought. She had believed Michael had been shot. Nikita had freaked like that when her brother was shot in the field. She had shouted as loudly when Alex was shot. It made sense that she'd be as shocked over her fiancé. But the amount of blood- oh God the amount of blood- and how ghostly she appeared screamed it was far worse. There was no way Michael was just shot. Maybe Amanda got to him. Maybe she sunk her claws in and almost killed him.
"Hey, what happened? Is Michael okay? What happened?" Alex wished she could be comforting. She wished she could find the right words to say to make Nikita talk to her- she was very much aware that asking about the blood in such a horrified way wasn't helpful. Except, she was so scared. Where did all that blood come from. What made the unflappable Nikita go into shock. Alex had to know how bad it really was. Just demanding answers from Nikita wasn't working, however. The young woman needed to do more- do something. The only thing she could think of was to tuck her best friend's wild hair behind her ear.
"He screamed so much…" Suddenly, Nikita snapped. She collapsed in her chair, sobbing. She couldn't hold herself together anymore. The tears flooded out of her, and she couldn't stop them. She couldn't stop. She just saw his blood on her hands and heard the screams in her ears. Why was there so much blood. Why did his screams sound like that. Why did she keep making it worse. She did that to him. She had hurt him. She had made him scream and bleed so much. And he might not be okay, "He just kept screaming… and bleeding… and I kept hurting him… I made him scream like that…"
"It's okay. It's alright," Despite the blood covering Nikita's trembling frame, Alex wrapped her in a tight embrace. She glanced over her best friend's shoulder, finally looking at the other Division agents around them. They had the same paled expressions. They had seen what had happened to Michael, and it was definitely worse than a gunshot wound. Hopefully, Nikita would be able to tell her about it soon. But in the meantime, Alex continued to say the lamest words in existence. She had no idea if Michael would be okay or alright. But Alex had nothing else to offer Nikita. She just held her best friend as tightly as she could while she sobbed.
