Lesson One

by SpikedTea

In the wake of Nikita's betrayal, Amanda has assigned her favorite new Operative to win over Birkhoff in a scheme to investigate his involvement. It might have worked too. . .if the couple wasn't breaking the very rules they'd just been given permission to bend. In a world where a budding romance warrants a death sentence how long can Alicia and Birkhoff hide in plain sight? (B/OC)

19. Into the Dark

Looooooong chapter for you guys this time! I'm really interested to hear your opinion on this one in particular, so any and all feedback is appreciated! Also, if you haven't already give the Charter Intro video a look! It's mighty awesome if I do say so myself. Just youtube "Lesson One Character Intros" and it should come right up!

Much love - Jade

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Alicia pressed her back against the wall, the Baretta 92FS feeling heavy as she held it to her chest. Adrenaline had yet to kick in as she turned her eyes to Samson who was in a similar pose behind the doorframe opposite her. "Okay, I'm getting seven heat signatures behind that door," Birkhoff's voice filled her ear. She read the hazel eyes that stared back at her as she waited for any more intel. "Looks like you'll have to find another way in," he sighed, having nothing more to offer, "because I don't know what lies behind door number one any more than you do."

While it was merely a speedbump Alicia didn't like the setback. She saw the same in her partner's eyes and made a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret. "We're going in," she gave a brief nod to Samson before turning her eyes towards the door.

Not questioning her he followed suit, getting ready to turn the knob with his left hand as he posed to make his move. "I take left you take right?" Samson breathed, flashing her a look to confirm.

She didn't need to say a word, and he turned his eyes back to the door, muscles tensed and at the ready. "Two. . . one. . . go," she counted down softly before they both sprung into action. Everything was a blur of black for a moment as she burst through the door in tune with Samson, her gun going off a second before his as they both dropped behind a crate for cover. The sound of bullets rang out followed by shouts, the sound echoing in the storage room they'd already left a path of bodies behind to get to. Alicia moved to a crouch, eyes shifting over to Samson at her side. He wore the same black Division field wear as her, and she was glad to see neither one of them had taken any damage so far. Bullet proof vest or not; taking a shot was painful.

"Looks like you got two," Birkhoff observed from back in Operations, unaware of Alicia peeking around the corner with a first person view of the scene.

Slowly, she rose to her feet keeping in a crouch to stay hidden behind the stacks of black boxes. With her height it was an easy task and she flashed a look down to Samson as a plan formed. "I'll creep around the left," she whispered without any fear of being heard over the angry slur of Russian coming from the other end of the warehouse. While they both knew everything that was being said they shut it out, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He smiled up at his partner, liking her shoot first attitude. There was never a time he had to worry about Alicia going soft and growing a conscious on her. That was something he'd always admired. She's tough Samson felt no shame in admitting as he sized her up. "I'll run distraction," he responded, putting two and two together quickly. She took off down the line of boxes without another word. There was no reason to work out a sign, and he smiled as he watched her disappear from view. It was missions like these that he had nothing but respect for Alicia. When it came down to business she was a force to be reckoned with. Better yet; they were a team.

Samson gave up his position behind the boxes, getting to his feet and clearing the tops of them with ease as he aimed his gun. The kickback of his pistol had no affect on accuracy in his trained hands, and he got off two rounds with deadly precision. A smile crept onto his face as the sound of two separate shots followed and the man his sights had just turned to fell sideways from the blast. Striding forward, Samson had no fear as Alicia put down the last man with a double tap to the heart before turning to watch him approach. "Kruikov's nephew," she noted, nudging the body with the toe of her shoe, "looks like we're close."

"Six signatures in the next room," the Head Technician's voice came once more, "and one of them is our guy. So if you see him don't be shooting him; capisce?"

Taking note of the body count, but choosing to ignore the rest, Samson focused on Alicia. "It's a little too quiet don't you think?"

She paused, listening to the silence a second, before turning her eyes towards the door on the far wall. "Calm before the storm," she agreed, falling into step beside him as they crept forward. They kept their guns drawn and steps light, every nerve alert as they approached the doors. All it took was a glance to confirm the same rules applied as last time and they took their positions at the door. They couldn't risk any sound, and she mouthed the countdown instead.

Adrenaline finally pumping everything seemed to slow down as the door broke under Samson's forceful kick. She watched the wood break and splinter, moving for cover as gunfire sounded before either of them had the chance to make use of the opening. She fell to the safety of the doorframes, thankful for the concrete building as it absorbed bullets meant for her. With her back against the cold she closed her eyes, the ringing in her ears starting to get to her. They have firepower Alicia took a deep breath to steady herself duly noted. After a moment the fire ceased, and she looked down at the gun she held ready at her chest. Taking a calming breath she looked to the smoking frame of the doorway.

There wasn't time to waste and so she moved, trusting Samson to follow her lead. This time she ducked and rolled as she moved through the door at lightening fast speed, getting off a random burst of fire from her gun as she managed to direct herself to the conference table. She recognized the sound of her partner's firearm along with a mix of two others, barely managing to flip the table as a means for cover. For once she was thankful of rich mob bosses having dismal taste, as the sound of bullets embedding in the metal made her heartbeat race. All she had to do was turn her head and she could see the marks where the bullets had hit on the other side, and she was thankful her quick thinking courtesy of Division.

Alicia had time only to exhale before she was peeking her gun out from cover, firing in the direction of the shots she'd heard moments ago. From the corner of her eye she could see Samson discharging his weapon from the door way, being forced to retreat seconds before she had to do the same. With nimble fingers she reloaded her gun, glancing up as he fired off the final five shots in his chamber as she did so.

"What did you just do?" Birkhoff startled voice came. He paused as the sound of Alicia firing a few more shots around the table took precedence on the com. "Kruikov plus one just disappeared," he sounded confused at the unexpected development, "and I still have four bad guys alive and kicking; am I seeing this wrong?"

Samson couldn't confirm nor deny the status inside the room, and he knew that neither could Alicia. Deciding it was best to handle the immediate threat first he peeked around the corner, ducking back as shots flew past him. His eyes connected with Alicia's, seeing her trapped behind the metal table. He had no more bullets and without an extra gun for backup she was a sitting duck. Understanding passed between them and she slid her gun across the floor without hesitation. It spiraled once, twice, from the force of her push before he snatched it from the ground. With one hand firing off shots as a distraction he slid his gun towards her; she had the ammunition.

Gun loaded and sitting pretty in her hands she looked to Samson once more, this time perched and ready for action. With his fingers he directed her positioning and she popped up to fire with a cool composure. The exchange of fire, the flashes of bullets first leaving the barrel and the speed of the moment thrilled Alicia. Every shot from her gun was backed with the training granted to her by Division. As her heartbeat raced she followed out the orders she'd been given; capture Kruikov and exterminate the rest with extreme prejudice. She was aware of Samson joining her, and she was conscious of the bullets hitting their targets as two of the men she aimed for fell in succession, but she wasn't really there.

It was on Operations like this that she was able to bring out the Alicia that Amanda was so proud of. She was on a mission and would do whatever it took to achieve what she'd been sent to do; no matter what it took. When the last two bodies hit the floor she stepped from around the table with a cold calculating gait to her step. She fired off the last bullet in her chamber down into the dead gunman nearest her before once more reloading the weapon in her possession with ease. Samson followed her lead, dispensing his final two shots into two seprate bodies and exchanging guns with her once more. As he set the gun in her hand he flashed her a sly smile.

The moment was broken as gurgle of a cough sounded from behind them and she turned, looking over her shoulder to the slumped body of the man. "I think we just caught a break," Alicia couldn't help but mutter her hope out loud as she stepped over a body to approach him. Squatting, she knocked away the man's fallen gun before squatting beside him. Peering down at him she reloaded her weapon, never breaking eye contact with the blue ones that stared up at her. "Ваш босс куда он делся?" she asked the man in flawless Russian. Your boss; where did he go? It was a simple question really.

The man's eyes narrowed, and he spat out a violent phrase in Russian only to follow it with, "filthy American whore."

Alicia tsked her teeth before flashing a look over her shoulder to Samson to meet his amused gaze. "Now that's just rude," she sighed, returning her eyes to the man. Shifting forward she set one gloved hand on her knee, the other prodding the gun forward. As the barrel pushed at the center of the bloody mass Alicia knew was a bullet wound, he let out a strangled sound of pain. She held the gun there, lowering herself to be on eye level with the man as he slumped further down and coughed in pain. "You're already going to die for your boss," her tone was soft and sweet as she regarded him, "but how much pain you endure until then is entirely up to you."

Samson watched the exchange of words, of threats even, as Alicia handled the man. It came as no surprise to him when she rose to her feet and fired a single bullet into the gunman before turning to him. "There's a tunnel that leads underground," she declared calmly, her eyes shifting over to the book case.

"That's why I lost them," Birkhoff explained, "I can't get a heat read in an escape tunnel. Would kind of defeat the purpose."

A look passed between Samson and Alicia, and a little challenge played across his lips in the form of a smile. "Wouldn't be the first time we went in blind," he was happy to encourage what he knew she was already thinking.

"I can look for exits-"

"In the time it takes to find out where that hatch opens we might lose him," Alicia hated to cut Birkhoff off but she had to. When it came to the field sometimes a decision had to be made and she knew in her gut this was the right call. Failure was not an option.

In his ear she could hear the familiar grumble of his frustrated groan. "You know I'll lose contact with you if it goes more than thirty feet down," he tried to be the voice of reason.

While she pitied Birkhoff, Alicia had already made up her mind. All it took was one look and she had her gun raised, ready for Samson to push the book case out of the way. "He already has a seven minute lead," her tone was one that made it clear the decision was already made.

Back in the lab Birkhoff grimaced, leaning back in his seat as he stared at the screen. As much as he loved having a kick ass girlfriend, sometimes he wished her job wasn't so dangerous. He didn't get it. He dealt with gunfire every day for the past how many years yet when he knew Alicia was on one end of it was different. There was a twist in his gut and he'd noticed his palms had the annoying habit of sweating when things got heated. The last thing he wanted was her alone on an Operation with Samson yet again. While he'd like the cocky agent off of their team he didn't want her alone. Sipping on his energy drink and watching the progress of their trackers seemed to be the only use for him, so it was what he did. Never mind the worry he felt for Alicia; he was just as tense about the overall success of the mission.

Book case pushed aside, any imminent threat of a firefight faded from Alicia's nerves as she stared into the darkness before her. Everything was silent as she shifted her gaze to Samson who was focused intently on the opening in the wall. "I think it's clear," she chanced saying the words out loud as though to test them. Again only silence met the Agents' ears and she lowered her gun the slightest bit as she strode forward.

Samson stood watch as she touched the edge of the darkness, her hand breaking through to feel along the walls. "No lights?" he guessed halfheartedly when she drew back with a blank expression.

"Doesn't look that way," she confirmed, easing her weapon down to a resting position. With her eyes locked on the staircase that faded into nothingness she evaluated the situation. "The light's gone right along with Kruikov and his man."

"Or men," Birkhoff pitched in over the com, "two may have goon poof but that doesn't mean more aren't hiding."

She didn't feel the need to point out that he wasn't helping. "There's only one way to find out," her eyes met the hazel ones regarding her to see that he felt the same.

"Keep the light but don't turn it on," Samson warned, temporarily stowing his gun to withdraw his penlight. Looks were deceiving, and she knew the small black metal device offered more than enough light for the both of them as he handed it over to her. "The head start should have made them comfortable by now. If we go in dark chances are high we'll catch them off guard," his tone was all business.

Starting down the steep cement steps there was no one he'd rather have at his side then Alicia. Stealth was one of her strong suits, and after just a few steps he marveled at how light of a footfall she had. It was like she was walking on air; not down into cold damp set of underground tunnels. A combination of her warmth and the general tight quarters they were forced into as the stairwell narrowed made his senses run on overdrive. He could feel her at his side, and every time the black material of their jackets brushed Samson had to fight the urge to slip his arm around her. Unable to see more than a few inches in front of him, he figured he'd feel a lot less on edge without the possibility of losing her.

Already their coms had begun to crackle, and he chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye as they worked their way to the bottom step. With every step the static in their ears grew as visibility lesson, and yet Alicia looked as calm and unfazed as ever. Emerald eyes were alert as they scanned the area in front of them, flashlight in hand and sidearm returned to its holster. Samson's weapon was out, his fingers safely curled around the grip with his index resting on the trigger guard. In the narrow tunnels there would be nowhere for them to hide, but it was equally true of anyone they ran across.

They moved at a steady pace, step after step downwards. With their eyes adjusting to the darkness there was no room for error. There was no telling how steep of a stairwell they occupied and a fall could very likely mean an injury or worse; death. All it would take is a broken neck and no amount of special training could help them overcome it. Even for the trained elite of Division there was such a thing as fatal accidents. Of all the obstacles in their way the toughest hurdle came as Birkhoff's voice floated into their ears carried on a broken transmission.

"Trackers just went offline," his voice was anything but reassuring, "any further and coms go too."

Alicia stopped dead in her tracks, one hand darting out to touch the wall her shoulder was millimeters from rubbing up against. "This cement must be a few feet thick," she noted, eyeing the grey slab that stretched out before her. Withdrawing her hand from the wall she lifted it to her lips, gripping the tip of the glove on her middle finger between her teeth. Biting down gently, she held the glove in place as she withdrew her hand from its leather folds. As she set her bare hand back against the cement she could feel Samson's eyes on her. "It's cold," she observed softly, tucking the glove into her jacket pocket with her free hand, "and damp."

"Should help muffle the sound," Samson agreed from beside her, having stopped in tune with his partner. He reached around with his free hand, rapping his knuckles on the cement beside her hand. Other than a faint thudding sound all was quiet, and when they listening for the echo that should have carried it away there was none.

With her partner looming close behind her, Alicia felt trapped in the small space momentarily. Her eyes locked onto the gloved fist that rested beside the bare skin of her hand. Diving into the darkness that loomed ahead required trusting her partner. I trust his training she assured herself confidently, shifting her eyes instead to the eroded texture of the wall she examined it closer. "Definite signs of ageing. Whatever this is it's been here a long time," she added, meeting Samson's gaze with a look over her shoulder. The fact he could make out his gaze was on her meant her eyes were indeed slowly adjusting.

"There's nothing on a creepy underground tunnel in the archive," Birkhoff's voice grumbled from over the line.

Samson had turned his eyes towards the bottom of the stairs, and for a moment Alicia watched as he squinted. "It's not a tunnel," he said slowly, and she found her eyes drawn towards the darkness they were headed into, "I think it's part of a network."

It took her a moment to realize what he was seeing in front of them before she realized that he wasn't seeing anything; it was a dead end. Instead of the straight path she'd assumed they'd started down it appeared this was not the case. The steps came to an end a few yards before them, leaving only the option of heading down the leftmost tunnel or taking the right. Forward no longer an option, Alicia was forced to reconsider the plan of attack. "Birkhoff, think you can do a little digging?" she asked, staring at the problem that lay ahead. Why couldn't he be Point on missions like this? She wondered of her partner. It was a question she would have to pick Seymour's brain for later. Amanda's scheme aside, there must be some method of determining which Operations I'm Lead on.

"For you? Always. What exactly am I looking for?" his voice calmed her nerves the slightest bit.

Alicia tried to focus on the fact Birkhoff was with her- at least for the moment. Did she trust Samson's training? Yes. Did she trust the man himself? Her eyes flickered over to him for a second to see he was already staring in her direction. Eyesight having adjusted to the darkness, it was hard to tell what he was looking at with how dilated his pupils were. When his lips lifted up into a smirk she realized she'd held his gaze for too long. "Anything you can find about the history of the land," she returned Samson's smile easily, never breaking eye contact as she spoke softly for the earbud to pick up on.

He scanned her face, wondering when he'd succeed in making her squirm. Lately the only game he was interested in was breaking down her walls. Every chance he got he would file away information about her, strengthening their fluidity as a team as well as furthering his personal agenda. "Well the land was a quaint little town once by the looks of it. Cue a mysterious fire and farmers with torches take over the land. After that corn," as Birkhoff talked Samson watched Alicia in wait of her next move, "years and years of corn."

"And that's it?" she sounded doubtful, though her face remained relaxed.

"Kruikov popped up ten years ago, but none of the satellite images I've pulled up show the type of excavation you're talking about," he filled her in, raking his hands through his hair. Sometimes no matter how prepared they were for an Operation things stopped going according to plans. If it were Micheal and Nikki down there he thought back to his old team he would have blamed the blazing guns approached and she would have stormed off down the tunnel anyways. For the first time it seemed like Samson and Alicia's weird comfort with each other was actually useful.

The other two members of his team were still halted on the stairwell; just within the ranges of their coms. He knew that Alicia was thinking, and he waited to hear what she'd suggest next. To her Division was a new life; she wasn't about to throw it away. While Nikita had been a force of nature, she'd always had a sort of reckless abandon about her methods. Pair that with her compassion for the targets and every mission was a stressful success. Alicia's devotion to the Operation was a source of relief for Birkhoff, and he was oh-so grateful for it.

"You said there was a town here," at her voice his fingers were at the keys, "can you give me any details about it? What would have been where the stairs are now?"

Birkhoff typed away, focusing on the screen as he dug deeper. Details were his forte. "Holy slavery staircase," what he found made him gave a dark chuckle, "I think you just stumbled into an old slave tunnel."

"Slave tunnel?" Samson's voice returned, sounding flat and cynical. "As in underground railroad?"

"No," his lips pinched together for a second, "as in a tunnel that would take a well to do slave trader to where he kept the livestock. Out of sight out of mind meant underground apparently." Birkhoff was already pulling up the file he needed with a dry smile. At least that had shut the obnoxious third wheel up.

"We can go Northeast or we can go Southwest," Alicia was planning out loud now. Birkhoff listened, waiting for inspiration to hit. When it came to digging there was a catch 22: To find details you need details. Without knowing what he was looking for, there was no way for him to find it. He's a computer genius after all; not a wizard.

Samson was the first to speak up after a moment of silence. She tucked the compass back into its pouch, looking over at him as he withdrew his fist from the wall. "This is just an adjoining tunnel, so I take it there was an estate here. Find the town map and tell me what would be in those directions," he requested of their tech expert. There wasn't even a twinge on animosity in his voice: he was in his serious mode once more.

Alicia flexed her hand, trying not to stare at Samson as he talked to Birkhoff via his earpiece. It was awkward in the tight confines of the stairwell and she was thankful that Samson had decided to back off of her as he directed the Head Tech on where to look. She had to admit she was a little surprised at how informed he seemed to be on the topic. There wasn't a time she could remember where he had been the one to have an idea on what they needed to complete the mission. He wasn't dim; she was usually the one doing the guiding. Michael had paired the two up for training so she could keep him on track. She'd known it then just like she knew it was why he'd supported them forming a team.

When his leads led to Birkhoff sighing she knew that he'd found something. "Well if your right on where the exits are then he'll either be popping up in a corn field or back at his headquarters," his voice was carried on a wave of static as the coms faded in and out.

"He'll be going to where the guns are," Alicia jumped into the conversation, "so that's where we have to go."

"Which direction?" Samson asked, nodding in agreement.

"That would be southwest."

"Right it is then," she acknowledged, shifting the flashlight she held to her ungloved hand. The black leather confined her movement, but she didn't want to remove both of the gloves. This Operation called for her make use of a firearm; not her ever developing skills with a blade. Nevertheless she had the ceramic gift of death from Roan strapped to her thigh just below where the pouches on her combat utility belt came to an end. It was lightweight, containing a few field supplies along with extra ammunition, and posed no threat of restricting her fighting abilities. In a swift move she pulled out a clip before handing it to Samson- just in case he ran out again. She imagined they'd pick up a semi-automatic along the way, bad guys just loved those, but one never really knew when it came to the field.

Samson met her eyes, tucking the ammunition into his pocket. "Ready?"

She nodded, turning her eyes to the remaining stairs ahead of them. The darkness had subsided, and she could see a few feet before things became impossible to make out. "Looks like its go time for the Go Team," Alicia smiled as she said it, starting down the steps without any further ado.

By the time Samson fell in step with her a few seconds later the hum of dead air buzzed from their ear pieces. It would have been hard to say goodbye, and knowing that Birkhoff couldn't be sentimental and tell her to be careful had made her decide to jump into action. Even so it stung a bit when she realized he really was gone. They may not have been allowed to talk freely on the Division line, especially with Samson right beside her, but at least she was able to hear his voice. Something about knowing he was watching over her was calming. Some may call it stalking but in a world of lies, spies and ever watching eyes it was reassuring to know at least one person had her best interests at heart.

The feeling of Samson's eyes on her made her turn her head slowly, shooting him a sidelong glance. His amused expression threw her off guard, and she couldn't place what he found funny about being thirty feet underground in an old slave tunnel with no connection to the outside world. "The Go Team?" her partner questioned as he raised his pistol to a ready position.

"It's what the recruits are calling us," she informed him, realizing for the first time that he wasn't aware of their nickname. Why would he be? Neither she, nor Birkhoff, had any reason to make that sort of small talk with him.

While he returned his eyes forward, a smile remained on his face. "That's kind of cheesy, wouldn't you say?" he asked, his low voice twinged with amusement.

"I like it," she shrugged, half expecting him to laugh at her.

"You would," he muttered with a shake of his head, but that smile still remained.

They'd reached the end of the stairs, turning to start down the tunnel to the right. All that loomed in front of them was darkness but they pushed on nonetheless. Flashlight off and hanging at her side, Alicia gripped her gun and drew it as they moved at a steady pace down the hallway. A sound had alerted her nerves, and in perfect unison the pair pointed their firearms in the direction of the scuttle. "Rats," she breathed, realizing at the same time as Samson what had gotten their attention, "just great."

"It's a good sign," he commented, relaxing his pistol once more, "it means there's activity down here."

"And that's good?" she didn't bother to refrain from asking, making note of the sound of scuttling so it wouldn't surprise her again.

"They have to get in and out of here somehow. Probably live off of the corn," he noted, "judging by how big they are."

"You sure know a lot about rats," Alicia mumbled. Moments after it left her lips she realized how sarcastic it had sounded, and her eyes flickered over to her partner. In the increasing darkness of the tunnel all she could make out was his shape beside her.

She couldn't tell if she offended him, and turned her eyes forward though it did her little good. A silence had fallen between them and Alicia opted not to break it. It carried all the way until the first break in the wall showed. They approached it silently, guns at drawn as they popped around the corner in preparation. "Looks like the geek was right," Samson commented, stopping a few steps into what appeared to be a 6 by 6 room. He turned to face Alicia, once more lowering his Baretta. "There used to be bars there," he motioned towards the doorway they'd come through, "and there's a grate here. We must have reached where he kept the slaves."

Alicia didn't question him this time; he appeared to know what he was talking about. The tone of his voice was enough of a sign that he wasn't guessing. They withdrew from the room, continuing down the hallway. In their ears the hum of dead air morphed into static, and Samson was the first to reach up and turn off his com. Hesitating only for a second, Alicia did the same. While she wanted to know when the she was back in Birkhoff's cyber gaze, she couldn't risk the interference. With little to go by in terms of vision she had to rely on her ears to alert her of any opposition.

"I used to love history," Samson's voice came in a low whisper directed towards her. The unexplained comment drew her attention, and she looked over to him in a silent question. His gaze remained forward but he could feel her eyes on him even in the dark. "In my past life I took a course in college about Nineteenth Century America," he added casually, voice contrasting with his tensed muscles as he stayed on high alert.

There was a pause, and he knew she was trying decide what to say in response. He knew that she'd reply. Once more he'd found himself alonewith Alicia on an Operation. It was a rare opportunity that catered to his ulterior motives. While he was with Division through and through, they didn't need to know everything. Together they would be stronger; poster children for Division. How he achieved it and what he did Alicia wasn't anybodies business but his. "Why are you telling me this?" she finally broke down and asked, covering her genuine curiosity with a little scoff.

"You you wondering how I knew about this stuff," Samson responded easily, scanning over the cement rooms they were beginning to pass more frequently.

"I'm not going to tell you about my past," she responded in a whisper, and he could just imagine she was rolling her eyes at that moment.

While he hadn't planned the conversation, he had the unusual urge to carry on. Maybe if she knows me better his mind was wandering as he expertly cleared every room they approached she will soften up a little. Samson never thought that he'd want to tell someone about his past, and he understood her hesitation in doing so. "I won't ask about it," he assured her, keeping his tone as soft as hers. The faint sound of voices called his feet to a stop, and Alicia moved in tune.

With a glance to each other they fell back against opposite sides of the hallway before creeping forward. There was no telling how far away the voices had come from, and with vision still restricted to a few a few feet in front of them there was no sign of a light up ahead. Sticking tight to the walls Alicia tuned her sites behind them as Samson covered their forward advance. The Russian their ears picked up on grew louder, but was muffled and distorted by the time it reached their ears.

Samson had taken the side with the cells, and he scanned every one they passed just to be safe. An ambush in such close quarters would be deadly. He only hoped the aged cement had softened enough over time for the bullets to engrave in the walls rather than adding the worry of ricochets to their list. The voices drew closer only to fall suddenly silent, and Alicia turned her attention to the confident of no one approaching their rear. Almost imperceptible to their ears came the faint sound of footsteps. They blurred together to a gentle padding making it impossible to distinguish how many were in the party quickly approaching them.

The flicker of a light came in to view, causing the two Agents to come stop their forward advance. Their best bet of a good a offense meant not worrying about defense, and Samson's eyes ran down the wall to the cell that lay a few feet ahead. He met Alicia's gaze from across the hall, motioning for her to come forward. In the dark she wouldn't be able to see any hand signals and he waited until she closed the distance to fall into place on the wall behind him to give them.

She followed the direction of his point, tracing the length of the wall to the opening with a sweep of her eyes. There was no need to nod, and once she saw what he was pointing to they began to creep forward. Ahead the light grew closer, a circle of a flashlight's glow being directed towards the ground. Despite the fact she was Point Samson led, his larger frame hiding her almost completely. With the black of their field wear they blended into the darkness, and that knowledge helped to keep her heartbeat in check. They slowed as Samson approached the cement entrance way, pausing so he could look past the rusted bars to the opening.

The coast was clear, and just as he ducked into the room a shout rang out. Alicia reacted quickly, firing moments after Samson stopped blocking her view down the hall. The source of the flashlight had raised its beam and the outer edges of the light illuminated her figure, the sudden shine rendering her momentarily blind. Her gloved finger pulled on the trigger, firing in their direction without the option of aiming. Her shots were met with return fire and the sound of bullets whizzing past her moved her into action. Stepping forward to reach the safety of the room she fired down the length of the hall, dispensing bullets in a quick succession. With her partner unable to help, leaving the cell would mean stepping into both hers and the enemies' line of fire, she knew her only chance of survival meant reaching the 6 by 6 cell where slaves were once kept. Ironic really.

Alicia moved for the door and pain exploded in her ribs, vision flashing as gasped for breath. Before she had time to recover two more points of impact cried out in agony and her legs gave out on her. Her body crumpled to the ground, her hold loosening on the gun even as she tried to continue squeezing the trigger. Fire was tearing through her veins and the little light on her mixed with the darkness as the world around her seemed to shake. It felt like her lungs were collapsing and she found she couldn't breathe, her mouth open but producing no results. The gunfire had stopped only to be replaced with shouting and the sound of footsteps closing in on her. If they find Samson he's dead her mind screamed at her not to give up, and she managed to roll onto her stomach. A whimper of pain tore from her throat opening her airways and she felt like she was going to be sick as the cold air tore its way into her aching lungs.

She could feel her body shutting down on her, her hands and feet growing cold and numb as she forced her limbs to move. The light was on her now, but she kept her eyes locked on her gun that lay just a few feet ahead. Alicia knew they wouldn't let her reach it but she had to do something. If her partner had any hopes of survival then it required the element of surprise. Alicia had been shot- that much her mind could process past the pain. What she didn't know was where the entrance to the cubical that held Samson lay. If she'd gone down in front of the bars that lined the entrance to the room then they'd find him when they found her, something she couldn't allow to happen. With determination she crept forward only able to manage a haphazard army crawl as she dragged her body past the doorway. Her insides were screaming in pain, sweat lacing her brow as she stifled the sobs rattling around in her throat and forced them to escape only as an occasional groan.

The men were almost on her now and she could hear them talking at her- or amongst themselves; she couldn't tell. The darkness was starting to close in on her despite the light now illuminating her, and when she coughed she couldn't tell if the ground was dark with her blood or with vomit. Her insides were killing her and she had a feeling that even if they didn't these men soon would. As her eyes closed she waited for them to put her out of her misery, unable to make her body move any further. It felt like she'd moved far enough but there was no time left to be sure. A kick to the head and everything went dark.

If it wasn't for the fact she could still feel pain she would have considered the possibility she'd just died. It seemed death wasn't in store for her just yet, the burning in her chest proof of that. Instead she was granted a rough drop to the floor that jolted all of her senses, awakening her mind as well as her injuries. She could feel herself collide with the cement ground, her head bouncing with a sickening thud as it made contact. For a moment the intense pain blinded her and her eyesight flashed, all the sounds and sensations around her blurring into a sickening bombardment on her senses.

Just when she thought she was about to throw up, bile teasing the back of her throat with its acid promise, she gained control of the urge. With a dry swallow she forced it back down into her stomach, her head throbbing as Alicia tried to ignore the pain to take a mental checklist on her physical state. A few of her ribs were definitely broken and it was a little difficult to breathe, but she was still alive; that was good.

She could hear the men whispering to each other nearby, and eased her eyes back open to see they were across the room from her. Division doesn't do this type of extraction Alicia was quick to piece together as she realized she'd been moved from the hallway. Shifting her eyes to her arms, not wanting to move and call attention to herself just yet, she was able to deduce they'd carried her from the hall. Had they dragged her, something she'd expected to happen, there would have been more dirt on her dark jacket. Aside from the shots, and the kick, it seemed like the rest of her body was in decent condition.

As she began to tentatively tense her muscles to check for damage a hand reached down, grabbing a handful of the dark material near her neck. For the first time she noticed the man squatting near her legs as he yanked her into a sitting position. Sharp stabs of pain riddled her insides and she could do nothing to stop the tremor that shook her body. It lasted for a moment, the man holding firmly to the front of her jacket as he stared at her, watching her until the pain subsided to a steady throb. She heard his voice, watched his lips move, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what he was saying but she couldn't make sense of it.

The man repeated his order, cold blue eyes narrowing angrily on her. All she could do was stare at him, unable to decipher the language that was rattling around in her mind. Her own words had disappeared, and her mouth stayed a still line as she stared back at him. Growing impatient with her, and careless of her injured state, he proceeded to force her jacket from her body. With a finger in one of the bulletholes inthe material he pulled downwards, tearing at the fabric as he went. The action pulled the jacket tight against her body as it strained to withhold the abuse. It put up a fight, upsetting her injuries as it broke free to tear down her front, and she found the sleeves of her arms being pulled to remove the torn jacket.

Her head was forced forward as the back of the jacket was pulled up and over it, the sleeves catching on her hands as he gave a final pull to break them free. My hands the thought was the first coherent one to form, and she realized for the first time she hadn't been tied up. As if a jolt to her nerves her body tried to react and she moved on impulse. Muscles jumping into action she lunged forward, body colliding with the unsuspecting man. There was a moment of struggle only for Alicia to lock her legs around his torso, pinning him beneath her on the ground with knife drawn and at his throat. She didn't even know when she had drawn it, and her green eyes were wide in a surprise similar to the man beneath her as her gaze flickered to the ceramic blade as a droplet of blood formed along its edge. A moment satisfaction tempted her to put pressure on the blade, and for a second the order to her hand to do so bounced around in her mind. Before she could finish the job sharp stabs of pain racked her body as she was dragged off of him before she could pose any further threat.

She struggled in the arms that held her off the ground like some ragdoll, completely careless of her injured state. It only took her a few seconds to realize she was only hurting herself, and Alicia forced herself to still in his arms. Her eyes followed the man whom she'd had pinned moments ago, watching as he got to his feet with a dangerous glint to his eyes. This time the man spoke in English as he reached up and touched the faint line of blood that now graced his throat. "Hold her still," he commanded gruffly, holding her eyes as he did so. In the cold blue depths she could feel the rage there, but what scared her the most was the power. She was helpless in this situation and he, whoever he was, would make sure she didn't forget that again.

Whoever it was that had her obliged, shifting his hold on her to place her feet on the ground. The two arms that had been holding her moments ago locked around hers, keeping her own arms secure in his hold behind her back. If it wasn't for him holding her so tightly Alicia didn't doubt she would have wound up back on the floor. The pain was excruciating and the blurring of her vision was making it difficult to hold in violent coughs that threatened to tear her apart at any moment. Weakness would be her downfall, and Alicia was working so hard on smothering her pain that the only mask she could wear was one that consisted of glazed over eyes and lips drawn tight.

Any moment now he'd try to get her to talk, and she waited for it with growing apprehension. Her mind was actively trying to interpret the broken pieces of conversation she was picking up from around her. The bite of the language felt so familiar yet out of reach. Even if she had been able to work out what they were saying, she wasn't so sure that what they had to say would help her at all. If anything it would only cause the reality of the situation to sink in. That was something she couldn't allow, and Alicia focused all of her determination on reciting bits and pieces of what she'd learned in Division in the privacy of her thoughts.

The man before her lowered his hand from his throat, taking a slow step towards her as if to judge her reaction. She watched in a detached state of mind as he closed the distance between them, hands latching onto her combat belt the moment he was close enough. Piece by piece he stripped of her gear, tossing aside everything he removed from her into a pile on the floor. Her eyes tracked the growing pile, watching as the men picked apart its contents to stake claim. Having finished with taking away her toys, he struggled momentarily to undo the Kevlar vest Alicia wore. Looking down at his dirty hands as he worked it open she counted the bullets embedded there. Three shots, she'd taken three shots to the chest. Samson probably thinks I'm dead she thought numbly as they stripped her down to the white wifebeater she wore that was miraculously blood free.

No longer useful, the man dropped the Kevlar to the ground, kicking it away as he stepped back. At the sound his step made, both hers and the man's eyes flickered down to his feet. Beneath his black boots lay the tip of the ceramic blade she'd had at his throat just minutes ago. She saw the spark in his eye as he stooped to pick it up, her stomach tightening into a painful series of knots. He straightened up, meeting her eyes once more. She returned his gaze with one of anger, falling back on rage to cover the fear that threatened to bleed through. She refused to look at her knife in his hands, staring him straight on as he approached her, his own line of vision shifting to her chest.

The knife drew nearer and her breath caught in her lungs as the man used the tip of her own ceramic blade to hitch her shirt up, revealing the deep bruising that covered the fair skin of her abdomen. It looked as bad as it felt, and Alicia turned her eyes upwards to get away from the sight. She met the cold blue eyes that now glared at her, waiting for what he'd do next. There were only so many ways this situation could pan out and none of them were good. I hope I distracted them Alicia tried to focus on the positive. Maybe Samson was already at Kruikov. All she knew was that she had no idea where she was.

Wherever it was the situation was looking grim. They'd stripped her of her weapons and she wasn't surprised that her blade had been sharp enough to cut a slit in the fabric of her tank top. Though the man had turned his attention to examining the blade, her bruised stomach remained exposed. The cold air stung at her skin which only seemed to burn hotter as if to rebel. Blue eyes shifted from the blade to her face as he barked at her again, the words bouncing in her head. The language skills Division had pounded into her tried frantically to piece together what he was saying.

Alicia wasn't sure if it was the pain or the fact she didn't really want to know what he had to say, but she couldn't draw anything out other than Russian. Unable to make out his words, even when he repeated them once more, she was left staring defiantly into his eyes. Two blue orbs drew closer to hers, his breath washing over her cheeks as the arms around her constricted tighter. Whatever he said caused the men to chuckle as his eyes danced over her face, the pain she was trying to smother rearing its head in order to overcome the fear. The beauty that made her valuable to Amanda was the very thing that seemed determined to be the cause of torment.

Even before he reached out to cup her chin she had somehow known he was referring to her looks. Something had been said about her face, and the smug eyes that accompanied the wicked smirk of the man made her vision narrow. I'd rather be hit than hit on the thought formed and miraculously didn't pass through her lips. His face loomed nearer and she did the only thing she could do to get away; turn her head. Whether he'd been about to kiss or her not she'd never know; the man was otherwise distracted. With two fingers he plucked the earbud from her ear, looking down at the small device in his hand which had given up its post on her chin.

She watched him examine it, ready for his eyes when they turned back to hers. Shoving the earbud in her face he tried again, talking in a tongue she didn't bother to try and decipher. Whatever Mr. Blue Eyes had to say she was far from interested. Even if she'd had an answer to the question being growled at her she wouldn't have given it. Instead of a reply all the man got was a smile laced with hate from the Division Agent he held captive.

The backhand that connected with her face was nothing compared to her broken ribs, despite the force of it turning her head to the side. Alicia's face snapped back forward, her smile returning as the loathing for her captors only grew. She relied on the building rage to carry her through, and she did something she knew would keep the situation violent; she spat in his face. He recoiled, shouting as he did so, throwing the earbud blindly across the room. Instead of the blow she'd expected all he did with his hand was make a violent pointing motion, and with it she was being dragged across the room. Her socked feet traced over the damp cement floor, the feeling of eyes following her as she was pushed up against a wall of bars.

The arms constricting her released her, and there was time to get out a blind strike before a new set of hands was latching onto her wrists. Alicia struggled against her judgment as her hands were forced above her head. With a painful yank her arms were extended as far as they could go, the feeling of rope pinning them in place. She tried to make sense of the knots being tied to bind her hands together as they were secured in place. The rope dug deeper into her skin as the knots were pulled tight, the man falling back away from her now that his job was done.

With arms crossed the blue eyed man took in her bound state, eyes traveling the length of her with dark appreciation. Even as he stepped forward she glared at him; unafraid of what he'd do next. No matter how badly they hurt her she wouldn't breathe a word of truth to the men. It didn't matter that she couldn't understand them, it didn't matter that no one was coming for her; anything for Division. His arms uncrossed and she locked onto his eyes, unwilling to watch what he was planning to do now that she was trussed up. His body loomed inches from hers and she processed the feeling of her remaining glove being slipped off of her hand. With his free hand he grabbed her chin once more, fingers digging into her cheeks as he squeezed roughly. Her mouth was forced open only to have her glove shoved in.

The taste of leather was overpowered by a mix of damp, rust and bitterness she could only connect to mold. It settled on her taste buds, coating her mouth and her gag reflex kicked into gear. With nowhere to go once more the bile retreated to her stomach and the burn it left ran all the way up into her nose. Coughs shook her body as she struggled to breath, too focused on her worn lungs begging for air to care that the man had stepped back to watch. Moving on its own her tongue ignored the vile taste and prodded forward, forcing the glove out of her mouth. It fell to the ground, a gasp tearing from her lungs as the ability to breathe returned to her once more.

Laughter sounded and the cruel sound was muffled by the cement walls at the same time it bounced the remaining sound back at her. With a glitter of amusement in his eyes the man turned his back on her, striding to join his men on the other side of the room. Not wanting to give them any more satisfaction she closed her eyes, hanging her head as she focused all of her energy inwards. One by one she woke up her muscles, tensing and releasing them to keep them active. At the very least I can try to make sure I'll bleed out her thoughts chided her, the sudden disappointment of being captured cutting a hole into her heart.

It was too late for her to finish her mission; she knew that. All she could do was try and process the bits and pieces of talking coming from the men as she focused on her current situation. Russian her brain chanted as it clicked away. Russian Russian Russian- as though a floodgate had been opened the rough sounds meeting her ears took the form of words. From the sounds of it they hadn't found Samson and thought she whoever she was working with was dead. This news lightened her mood only for it to be crushed as she recognized they were currently debating if they should kill her or bring her to Kruikov. It wasn't her predicament she was worried about: it was that Samson hadn't yet reached Kruikov.

Alicia was torn on what to do. On one hand she didn't want a bullet in the brain and on the other she didn't want to get in the way of Samson carrying out their Operation. She wasn't sure what her training would suggest she do in this situation. Operatives captured on missions weren't rescued; it was a fact. Despite being left to the wolves Alicia's only concern was how to aid her partner by any means possible. Her eyes opened only to dance around the room in an attempt to process what she had to work with. It was clear she was underground: the room was made of cement and illuminated only by a lantern. There were tables but whatever they held she couldn't make out for dirty off-white sheets covered the tops. The men had set up in the corner and had obviously been there a while: the remnants of a card game laid spread out on an overturned soapbox. None of it helped her any.

Before she could find anything useful a commotion broke out that drew her attention, and she tried to follow the voices that seemed to blur together. The kick to her head appeared to have rattled something loose, for her thoughts seemed sluggish as she registered their words seconds after they were actually said. Someone's here Alicia noted and she lifted her head, watching as two more men filed into the room. Around her the other…. Six she counted, six men all made themselves look busy with the exception of Mr. Cold Blue Eyes standing with back to her and her blade in hand.

Kruikov? she worried, testing the rope that bound her hands; if it was him then she still had a mission to do; no matter what it took. The rope held fast, tied so tightly that Alicia was forced to stand on her toes. The bastards had stripped her of everything but her black pants and the cut open tanktop that did nothing to protect her from the damp air of the cold room. They'd even taken her shoes, and she considered that the kick to the head made her delirious for she was thankful they'd at least left her socks on. When a third man came in, clearly the one that had everyone so worked up, Alicia was relieved to see she didn't recognize him as their target. Maybe Samson got to him she hoped for the best.

From across the room their eyes met, and she felt a chill run down her spine as the new man started in her direction. A cold dread set into her bones, seeming to weigh her down as her arms throbbed uncomfortably at every joint. No amount of training was able to get rid of the fear altogether, but her faithful heart managed to retain a steady beat. Though she couldn't see his face, she recognized the sound of the man who was still in possession of her favorite weapon. This is her; the one who was in the tunnels, as he spoke his back remained to her.

She had just enough time to figure out what he'd said when the newcomer spoke in return. The one who killed Pyotr? Alicia could only assume the grunt in response was confirmation, for the man stopped a few feet before her, eyes never leaving hers. Long grey hair framed his face turning dark brown near his chin, scars and pockmarks on his face making it hard to discern how old he actually was. Who is she with? The sound of his low voice speaking the words asked in heavy Russian.

She hasn't said a word Mr. Blue Eyes responded, turning to face her, sliding her knife back into the thigh sheath he'd taken from her earlier.

Can she understand us? He asked, eyes narrowing on hers as he posed the question. Alicia stared blankly back at him, in part too tired and in too much pain to make any expression. She wondered if she looked weak, broken or just angry? It sure felt like she was a mix of all three. Captured and strung up she stewed internally, mind wandering as they continued to talk to one another in front of her,without completing the mission; what a way to go.

She truly was angry at the situation; and angry at herself. The urge to fight back struck her and she figured why the hell not? At this point her chances of survival were next to none. If she went down it was going to be fighting. The blue eyed man, who she had picked up was named Sasha, was closer to her than she remembered, and for the first time she broke her blank eyed staring contest with the long haired man to look instead at him. We found it on her he was saying, a wicked gleam to his cool eyes as he regarded her from a few inches away.

You searched her for weapons? The man in front of her nodded, and the long haired man spoke once more. Pat her down. I want to talk to her.

A sheen of perspiration coated every inch of her bare skin, and in the chilled air it brought out a cold sweat. Goosebumps prickled her skin even as she glared at Sasha's hands growing closer. They came to rest just beneath her armpits where her shirt started before roaming over her body. All she could think was if she hadn't been tied Sasha would never be able to use his hands again. But she was helpless, and especially angry that everywhere his warm hands touched felt a hundred times colder when they moved on.

The skin of his hands was rough yet, surprisingly, his touch remained gentle. Sasha explored his way down over her chest, pausing only for a squeeze on her breasts before gliding downwards. Hands snaking around her body he canvassed her back with exploring fingers, going beneath the loose fabric of the cut shirt. They traveled back around her sides, resting on her love handles as he stared at her bared stomach for a moment. The entire time his hands were on her stomach Alicia was stuck holding her breath as she waited for the pain. She watched as he moved his hands towards the core of her stomach and he pressed on her bruises tentatively, not quite causing pain but pushing it just to the threshold of doing so.

Miraculously the blue eyed man decided not to mess with her injuries and instead he carried on his infuriating pat-down of her. He slowly shifted to his knees, hands traveling down her hips as Alicia got a view of the longhaired man once more. She could feel his eyes on her along with number of the other men in the room; Sasha included. But it was the newcomer's focused gaze that had her undivided attention. The way he watched her made her skin crawl and she knew that they didn't want to kill her just yet; they wanted to degrade her first. Alicia shifted her eyes to the man who was taking his sweet time feeling his way down her legs. Her muscles itched to kick him, knee him- do something. But she couldn't; not yet. If she was going to risk causing damage then it had to be permanent. She had to make a statement or things would only drag on.

As if reading her mind and testing her patience as a result, Sasha slid one hand around to cup her ass as the other found the zipper of her pants. Alicia's eyes flickered up to the man who watched, ignoring the others who were probably doing the same off to the side, and her anger broke free. Using the sudden rush of adrenaline she pulled her body from the ground using her tied wrists as leverage, gritting her teeth in pain as her abdominal muscles screamed in protest. It didn't stop her however, and she pushed through it without letting it affect her speed. Before anyone could react her thighs were around the man's neck, calves locking together.

Her eyes met with the longhaired man's in a challenge, lips in a small smile as she spit out the first phrase that came to mind. "Filthy Russian Whore," tumbled out for some reason, only it was in French. She didn't have time to linger on that oddity, and Alicia gave a twist of her legs, using all her strength to snap the man's neck between her thighs. The moment it gave Sasha's body crumpled to the ground, yanking the ropes on her wrists painfully as it pulled her legs with it. She slammed back against the wall, wincing in pain and trying to refrain from crying out as every inch of her body insulted her for attacking.

A gun was quickly to her temple, one of the random men having jumped to action too late to do any good. Another delivered a swift punch to her ribs and she couldn't hold in the cry of pain any longer. It tore from her lips as another blow was delivered, sounding more like a strangled laugh than anything. This is it she hoped rather than worried as the sound of her own pained breathing rattled around in her head. The world flashed behind her closed eyes as she fought off the tears in a desperate attempt to stay strong. Birkhoff will feel guilty the thought haunted Alicia as she held her eyes closed and waited for what would happen next. She could only hope he would think she had died in that hallway.

That was French a man spoke up, the voices all starting to sound alike in the heavy Russian being thrown around. It didn't help that they always sounded angry. Through hooded eyes Alicia peered, hoping to get a view of who had made sense of her little outburst. Instead she found herself trapped in the ling haired man's gaze, their eyes locking onto one another's.

With a wave from the man Alicia was in a stare down with, another punch was delivered to her gut. She bit back the cry of agony that her broken ribs insisted she let free. He turned his eyes from her to whomever had spoken, for the first time acknowledging there were other people in the room. You she couldn't see who the voice was directed to, translate for me. She hadn't expected any of the men to speak French, and cursed herself for not defaulting to something more creative like German, she idly, I bet I would have been safe with German. With her dark hair, big green eyes and fair skin she could pull off a number of nationalities with the right accent. French just happened to be a language she'd grown up with.

The pressure of the gun on her temple was removed, just as she remembered it was there. Sticking his firearm into the back of his pants, the man at her side moved, tying her feet to the bars a foot apart, her weight now supported by her toes and her wrists. She grimaced at the man who was clearly in charge as he stepped up to her, overlooking the man stepping up behind him. Though she understood what he said she focused intently on his dark eyes, unable to discern their color even though he was only a foot or two away.

"He wants to know what you hoped to accomplish," the voice caused her head to turn, snapping to the speaker. Up until that moment she hadn't considered paying him any attention. She'd planned on giving him some false answers, but only ever holding the main man's gaze. It wasn't the fluent language in a choppy Russian accent that surprised her; no it was the voice. I'm delirious she worried; staring at the man in full gear like the patrol in the tunnel wore. Of all people she hadn't expected to see him there.

The hazel eyes she stared into showed no recognition as he gave an impatient glare in response. "Someone had to kill Kruikov," Alicia answered vaguely. She knew that Samson was asking the question just as much as he was repeating it. How her partner had found her, or what he was doing pretending to be one of Kruikov's men she wasn't certain. The only idea her mind could come up with was that she'd been out for a whole lot longer than she'd counted on. He's here to get rid of me Division's habit of tying up loose ends directed her line of thinking. Even so; she was grateful. If Samson was who'd they'd sent then he'd at least be thoughtful enough to make it a quick death.

To her credit she didn't look or sound anything but pissed off as she answered his questions. Samson was relieved to find her in one piece though he'd never let it show. She was clearly in rough shape but judging by the body being dragged away from her feet she wasn't out for the count just yet. He was glad he'd gotten there in time to get to her, and Alicia's anger was a good sign; it would help to fuel her past the pain. He repeated back and forth the man's pointless questions, changing them to communicate with her underneath everyone's noses. Trying to speak in a different accent when it wasn't his tongue was difficult, but he managed to pull it off and his stumbling only made it all the more convincing.

He fired a few more questions at her, but her mouth remained closed and teeth gritted. She'd answered all that she could as vaguely as her worn out brain could manage. The pull of her weight against her wrists made her arms ache, the bite of the ropes not helping her stung up situation. Samson could see the fire in her green eyes but he knew that her fight was starting to fade and turned his attention away from her. Looking at her was only making his trigger finger itch. Not here he kept himself in check and not now.

Too tired to follow the back and forth between Samson and the long haired man she filed through her thoughts. The nagging feeling that she had something she could offer her partner was driving her crazy. Thoughts a blur of French and English she tried to lock onto what was bothering her. It was clear that he hadn't eliminated their target, she'd picked that much up from his questioning, but what she didn't know was why. Because of me the thought rung true in her mind, eyes closing as she lowered her head. No matter how hard she tried there was nothing more she had to offer.

She could sense people near her, could hear the breathing and feel the heat radiating from their bodies. Alicia kept her eyes closed, shaky breaths rolling from her lips. Once more goosebumps ran rampant on her skin and a shudder run up the length of her body. But the pain she'd anticipated and the humiliation she dreaded never came. Instead there was a tugging at her wrists and her eyes eased open, hesitantly following the arms beside her head. The man untied her, and as she was let down from the uncomfortable post on the wall she couldn't understand what had prompted her release.

Unable to look to Samson for answers Alicia was left with no option but to allow herself to be manhandled. The moment the final knot holding her to the bars was worked free there was nothing left to hold her up. Asleep from the waist down, her legs felt like jello as they collapsed under her weight. With her ankles still tethered she landed painfully on her knees, keeping her back ridged in an attempt to keep her face from meeting the same fate. While it worked, she didn't wind up kissing cement, it caused her abdominal muscles to sear red hot with an entirely new brand of pain.

Samson watched as her hands were pushed behind her back, being tied in place even as her legs were being released. He hung back, switching out his weapon for the semi-automatic being pushed forward into his hands. Instinctively he turned it over in his hold, checking to make sure it was loaded before becoming comfortable with it. With gun hanging at his side, his finger idly stroked the trigger as Alicia was pulled to her feet. His eyes made a quick scan of the room, falling back a step to let the two men past who had Alicia by her biceps as they marched her forwards. A small nod passed between him and the long haired man before Samson fell into a step behind the trio, following them out the doorway with firearm in tow.

Between the men nudging her along and her stumbling painful walk she had a feeling she'd collapse before they made it wherever they were headed. It would be humiliating to have to be dragged after Samson had gone so far just to retrieve her from behind enemy lines. Every Agent knew in a situation like this it was Division policy not to exfil. It was every man for themselves on the field in terms of getting caught. Alicia had seen the gun when she'd been moved past him and she knew what it was for; her. There wasn't any other explanation to his unexpected appearance. She could already see the cover story for Kruikov: captured enemy tried to escape, killing two guards and herself in the process. Someone out there probably didn't think she'd keep her mouth shut under pressure and she had a feeling she knew who; Percy.

Behind her came the sound of Samson excusing himself in Russian, and she closed her eyes in expectation of the bullet that should have followed. All that came was the sound of his retreating footsteps, and she looked over her shoulder to watch his figure fade down the hallway, leaving Alicia confused. The men only tugged her forward like they were on a mission, and she found herself watching her feet as they somehow managed to continue on one in front of the other at the men's rough pace. As fast as they moved, they only made it a few yards before the sound of gunfire lit up the hall. Alicia found herself pushed against the wall, the other man with his gun trained down the hallway they'd just come from. No idea what was going on she, she resisted the urge to waste her strength on the man who was plastered against her. With her hands tied behind her back and no weapons she was an easy target, and at least he offered cover.

An eerie silence fell over the hall, the last echoes being absorbed by the damp surface of underground system. For a moment everything seemed frozen before the man eased off of her, warning her not to make a move in both Russian and American before making a slit-your-throat motion for good measure. She didn't move a muscle and watched as he too drew his weapon, looking to the other man before staring down the hall. All it took was two bursts of fire and Alicia watched as the men before her dropped to the floor, guns going off on their way down.

As Samson's figure approached her, tossing aside the weapon he'd been using, he drew something from the pocket of his coat. "Kruikov will never see us coming," he grinned, unsheathing her knife as he met her gaze. Alicia stared at him, finding it hard to believe that she wasn't just dreaming. When he'd emerged from the darkness with gun smoking her first thought had been my turn. Never in a million years had she even dared to play with the idea he'd come to rescue her. That is what he's doing, isn't it? Unable to process the confusion and pain raging inside, Alicia's muscles locked up and her mind drew a blank.

In a few steps he was in front of her, eyes scanning her body to make sure no stray bullets had found her. Samson doubted in her current state she'd have processed being shot over the rest of the pain she must have been feeling. He knew firsthand how ungodly uncomfortable it was to be suspended like that during an interrogation. After a second he realized her eyes had hazed over, and he took her silence as time to step over the bodies and rested his hand on her bicep. At his touch her muscles tensed, shoulders squaring as her eyes found his hand that held her ceramic knife. Beneath his hand he could almost feel her preparing for a stab in the heart, and if he hadn't been so relieved she wasn't being difficult he would have rolled his eyes.

Instead he slowly eased her away from the wall, moving around her to lower the blade to the ropes that held her hostage. After a few seconds he had her free of her bonds and let the rope fall to the ground as he returned the knife to its sheath. Despite being free of her bonds Alicia didn't move other than to waver slightly where she stood. "As much as I like seeing you tied up," he breathed in her ear, hands resting on her shoulders as he stepped up close behind her, "we should retrieve what we can of your gear and finish this mission."

He scooped her up before she could object, the only sound coming in the form of a whimper of pain. Samson winced at the sound, looking down at her in his arms as he got an up close view of her injuries. "My ribs," Alicia grumbled, deciding to defend her weakness with an explanation. Of all things his eyes narrowed on her in disbelief. Here he was flying under Division's radar to find her, and she was reminding him that those walls were still up.

Luckily he hadn't intended to use rescuing her as a means of exploiting cracks in the wall. No, all he was concerned about was her current state. "I saw you get shot," Samson said, eyes scouring her exposed flesh for any signs of an entry wound.

"Three to the chest but my Kevlar took the worst of it," she explained, voice a little rough. Against his chest he could feel her slight shrug more than he could see it, and he watched as she seemed to come back to life in his arms. Her ponytail of auburn hair fell over his bicep as she turned her attention to the hallway he was carrying her down. "I can walk," she insisted, as if suddenly aware of the fact she'd been in his arms the past few moments.

"You're dead on your feet," he sighed, not looking down at her with a teasing smile like he normally would. Instead he flashed her a look that let her know it was not a topic he was willing to discuss. Alicia was light in his arms and despite how she acted he could tell that she was running on empty. He could see the full deep bruises that covered the fair skin of her stomach, and now that he had her and trapped against he could feel how ragged her breathing was.

When they turned into the room she was surprised to see that everyone in it lay dead. The same men who had their eyes on her stung up and helpless now lay riddled with bullet holes on the cold cement floor. Samson stepped over two of the bodies as he carried her into the room, coming to a stop near the largest grouping of men. When he shifted she was surprised to find he was setting her back on her feet, and she was more than happy to scramble away from the unwanted contact. Everything felt foreign and unwelcome on her skin, and as she looked up at him she felt more exposed than ever.

Standing in the middle of the room her eyes scanned the surroundings that were already imprinted deep into her memory. The sight of her abused Kevlar discarded on the floor reminded her of just what she was standing in the middle of. She'd been the one shot, captured and put into a compromising situation and yet Samson was the source of all the dead bad guys and Samson was her reason for being free. Her green eyes turned on him, already knowing that they'd find him staring at her. "What's going on?" the question she'd been dying to ask finally made its way from her lips.

His lips drew tighter, and for a second Samson looked concerned as he took her in. "Where's your shirt?" he asked instead.

"You're looking at it," she sighed, motioning to fabric slit open to reveal her stomach.

"Jacket?"

"Between being shot and having it torn off of me," Alicia responded, scanning him with narrow eyes, "it's not in worthwhile condition."

It looked like this upset him, for he groaned and shook his head, walking past her to stoop over one of the bodies. "Since your gear is useless," Samson spoke as he rolled over one of the bodies, "we'll have to stick to the captor –captive roles. Shoes?" He busied himself with checking a gun for ammo before taking it for himself.

Putting aside the fact she felt like a useless child, Alicia bit her lip and scanned the room once more before spotting them in the corner. Every step felt awkward and painful made worse by the fact she had to move closer to Samson in the process. Of course the second she looked to him he had to look over at her, and she turned her eyes towards the boots as quickly as she could. Why did he come back for me? the question haunted her, and in her frustration she forgot about her ribs. The moment she stooped to grab the boots the pain shot through her once more, color flashing in her eyes as she tried to straighten herself up to correct her mistake. Her sudden movement only made things worse and as the pain spiked she bit her lower lip to keep from making any sound of pain as her world seemed to twist.

If it weren't for two strong arms hooking under her armpits she would have wound up in a heap on the ground. For a moment Samson supported her weight, allowing her a few moments of silence to recuperate. "I'm fine," she insisted, hating that once more she was letting herself be weak around him.

To his credit he didn't comment nor drop her despite her objections. Instead he slowly eased on his upwards pressure, gradually increasing the weight he was allowing her to place back on her feet. He waited as he felt a tremor of shakes run the length of her body, staying dutifully silent as he stared down at her. This was no time for a power struggle; he knew that. When he felt it was safe to do so he withdrew his arms from her, not the least bit surprised when the first move she made was to step away from him. Moving before she had the option of making the same mistake twice, he stepped in front of her, a foot on either side of the boots she aimed to pick up.

"Let me get them," he ordered more than offered.

Looking too tired to object, but still a weary she nodded. She watched as he picked up the boots, getting down on one knee in front of her. As she rested a hand on his shoulder, her free hand drifting to her stomach, Alicia lifted one foot from the ground. "How did you find me?" she asked, deciding to get her questions out there while she could. Not like this could be any more humiliating she all but sighed, watching as her partner tied up her field boots.

"I pulled an Alicia and got my hands on one of the guards' radios," he answered, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

She raised a brow, because on mission she had to be a sweet distraction while she cloned the device. It was clear he wanted her to ask, but she already guessed what his answer would be. So I shot him not seduced him, big difference his most likely reply bounced around her head. "Same one who lent you your outfit?" Alicia decided to ask instead, shifting to lift her other foot from the ground. It was almost amazing how much of a difference the boots made. Just having a barrier between her feet and the cold cement was enough to warm them the slightest bit.

"May have been the same fellow," he smirked as he finished the knot on her boot, "dead people all look the same after a while." Just looking at him made her feel foolish, and she promptly lowered her foot to the floor. Before taking a step to get away she decided it was better to air on the side of caution, so instead she merely moved her toes. They tingled uncomfortably, feeling stiff and lethargic, and Samson moved before she could test if her sense of balance had returned.

Alicia watched as he returned to some of said dead bodies on the floor, once more rifling through their pockets. She bit her lip, refraining from asking what he was looking for. Samson wasn't the type to pickpocket corpses for fun. It occurred to her that his back was to her, and she used the moment to look down at herself. The second her eyes landed on the dark purple of her stomach her eyes snapped back to her partner, deciding it was better not to see it at all. As she watched him straighten back up, she tried to think of a way to salvage the mission. "What happened after I got shot?" she asked, trying to figure out what she hadn't been able to during interrogation.

He turned his hazel eyes on hers, stepping up with his hand forward. "They only heard your gun, so they didn't even think to look for me. Weren't stupid enough to assume someone wasn't coming though, so they took you on a tight guard," he informed her as he handed over some of her missing gear. All it consisted of was her compass, the pen light and her knife complete with sheath. Nevertheless she was grateful to at least have something back, and she took the two smaller objects first, tucking them deftly into her pockets before reaching for her blade. "Keep it out of view," he warned her, but this low voice sounded distant.

The moment her knife was back in possession a wave of fight took over her. Her fingers curled around the sheath that held it, clutching it tighter for a moment. It was hard to believe it was real; Samson coming back for her. But he had, and now she had to prove she was worth it and not to him, but to Division. Killing Kruikov would be a good start. "Where is he?" She lifted her eyes from the weapon to her partner, a dangerous sparkle in them.

He knew that look, and before she could protest he was scooping her back up in his arms. This time he made sure to be a little more careful, knowing she was still slow on her reflexes and he didn't have to work so hard to catch her off guard. As expected, the second his arms touched her she tightened her muscles to prepare herself on instinct and he had her up in the air relatively pain free. "In the parlor with a bottle of vodka," he grinned down at her, knowing the news would calm her frustration a little, "and he is quite literally waiting for us."

It took a second, but he knew the moment understanding set in on her. "He's waiting for a guard and the prisoner who tried to kill him," she pointed out, "so why are you carrying me?"

"If you want to be the defiant hostage then I'll have to tie you up," Samson warned her, loving the situation. Sure, she was in pain and he was worried about her; but putting her on the spot was always fun. Alicia shot him a glare before looking away. He knew if the circumstances were different she would have preferred to do just that. They probably would have made a challenge out of it. How many can you kill with your hands tied behind your back? The temptation to continue on and tease her by adding or you can be the worked over hostage who's too weak to walk on her own was fleeting as his eyes lingered on her bruising. "Besides," he decided staying on her good side would be a better idea, "you can use the time to recoup."

His radio went off, and he shifted her slightly in his arms, supporting her easily as he lifted it to his mouth. He returned with a few phases of Russian, going back and forth before finishing with a laugh. Alicia eyed him, waiting until he returned the radio to his belt to speak her mind. "I've got a pretty mouth?" she questioned what had been said between the men, voice laced with bitter amusement. Samson just laughed again, smiling a wicked smirk down at her and she decided she didn't want an answer. "On second thought don't answer that," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"You do," he replied anyways, "which it looks you used to piss someone off. What did you do to get yourself stung up? On the radio they said you were passed out cold."

"I came to when they dropped me," she sighed, grimacing at the memory as Samson started out into the hall.

"What happened between that and insulting them in French?" he asked, slipping into French.

From the way he used the broken Russian accent to question her she knew that they were headed back into enemy territory. "Apparently a knife to the throat is considered rude, so they decided to loot my gear," she sighed, falling easily into the language. It felt warm on her tongue, and she was secretly thankful that she was able to use it once more.

"Would it have killed you to play dead instead of posing a threat right off the bat?" he groaned at this news, shaking his head almost as though disappointed in her.

"By all means I already was dead," she fired back pointedly.

Samson looked down at her, giving her a bemused look. "You didn't have to go kill someone the moment you came too," he sounded more upset than amused, which only made Alicia confused.

With a shake of her head she broke eye contact with him, not wanting to waste her time trying to figure him out. "I didn't. The knife to the throat was a survival instinct; I was out of it from being shot three times after all. Besides, I barely left a scratch on him," she defended herself half heartedly. It really had been a stupid thing to do, but she hadn't planned on her body reacting on its own like that.

"They were working you over when I came in," he recounted, sounding angry in his odd mixing of accents and languages, "and a body was at your feet."

"He dropped me, I put a knife to his throat, he stripped me of my gear, I spat in his face," she responded lightheartedly, "it was a give and take relationship. So naturally when they tied me up and he decided to pat me down I decided to take his life, causing them to restrain my ankles and give me a few lovetaps."

Samson's dark eyes pulled her in, and she couldn't fathom why he looked so upset at this news. For a moment he glared at her, before tilting his head back and letting out a frustrated growl of defeat. "You should have stayed put until I came to get you," he sounded truly disgruntled.

His reaction only confused Alicia all the more. She still didn't know why he'd come back for her. "You weren't supposed to," she decided not to ask him for his reasons, "you were supposed to be on your way to Kruikov."

"I got to Kruikov," he responded, looking down at her as he continued down the hall thankful for the light on his guard belt illuminating the way.

This news shocked her, and she didn't try to hide it from her face. Alicia was too worn out to care at this point. "Then why isn't he dead?" she asked, bewildered at her partner's behavior.

"If I killed him then Division would have closed the books on the Operation," Samson responded openly. He wasn't shy about meeting her mystified emerald eyes. They both knew she would have been left to her own devices, and when the connection set in her gaze shied away in disbelief. "I hesitated, and if I hadn't I never would have overheard that you were alive," he explained, and she could feel his eyes were still on her.

"And the target would have been dead," she wanted to point out the flaw in his logic. Surely he could see how Division would frown upon his course of action.

Samson was silent for a moment, and when her eyes flickered up it was only to be caught in his. "You would have been too," he spoke the moment he had her attention, "and I happen to like having you as my partner."

She bit back her response as the sound of voices came from down the hall, and they walked towards a group of well armed men. It wasn't difficult to look weak and battered, and aside from going relatively limp in her partner's arms there was nothing else to it. As the men grew near their lights were pointed in the duo's direction, a sentence barked their way. Samson replied, and all she had to do was lay there with her head leaning against his chest as he confirmed she couldn't speak Russian and they carried on a brief conversation. By the time they reached Kruikov she had no doubts she'd be ready to carry out their mission. The only thing that worried her was the blowback her capture and rescue would cause back home at Division.