Softly and gently, Nikita told Michael everything that had happened after she had cut off his hand to save him from the fire. She forced herself to look into his terrified green eyes the entire time. She couldn't falter or fall apart in front of him. He needed her to remain steady and sure. Soon after she had finished, the doctor arrived in his room to inform him of all the medical ramifications of losing a hand. Michael clung to his fiancée the entire time. Although he could acknowledge what had happened and could understand it, he couldn't wrap his head around it. None of it would register. His hand just couldn't be gone.
But it was, and there was no changing that. He was alive, he would be well soon, yet he didn't have a right hand- his dominant hand. Michael stared at his stump of a wrist in complete disbelief. He could've sworn he could've still wiggled his fingers and form a fist if he thought hard enough. However, whenever he did, a great and terrible pain overcame him. The doctor expressed that it was phantom pain. His body would still believe his hand was there for a while. And when he remembered it wasn't, pain from the affected area would torment him. It was a normal occurrence. It was just another thing to deal with.
Michael didn't know if he could, though. It was just another thing to deal with amongst so many things he couldn't handle. He could normally take in a lot of information at once. He had been a Naval intelligence officer. He had been the head of recruits and Division Operations. Michael could take in huge amounts of information and turn it into usable data in order to help other people. However, at that moment, he couldn't register anything. All of the information went over his head. He couldn't absorb all the facts in front of him. It was all too much. He stared at where his hand should've been, unable to do anything.
When the doctor finally left, Nikita cupped Michael's chin and forced his eyes to look at her. He didn't need to come to grips with the loss yet. He didn't need to immediately jump out of the hospital bed, ready for more action. She could do all that for him. In the meantime, he would rest. He would let his shock wash away, and he would accept what had happened on his own time and in his own way. His fiancée would be with him every step of the way. She would carry the burden he couldn't. It would be okay; it would be alright.
Nikita swore that over and over again. She caressed Michael's stubbled cheek, promising that it was going to be okay. There was a lot to still figure out. The aftermath of the accident still hadn't subsided. But they'd get through it together. She was never going to leave his side. Whatever he needed of her, she'd be right there. He wasn't going to suffer the loss and the pain alone. There was always going to be someone with him, helping him bear the weight of the enormous life change. That, of course, extended to all the new information he had to digest. If he couldn't handle it at that time, then she would for the both of them.
Refusing to think anymore, Michael molded himself into Nikita's side and just breathed her in. He attempted not to cry. The tears were fresh in his eyes, born from pain, shock, and misery. Yet he wouldn't allow himself to shed them. Crying meant he was thinking about the accident, and he didn't want to think. He just wanted to hold his fiancée and believe none of it was real. The accident never occurred. Amanda never escaped. The pain and loss never existed. It was only Michael and Nikita.
Still so soft and gentle, Nikita clung to Michael in return. She whispered reassuring words in his ear until she felt him fall back asleep. Exhaustion was to weigh him down for a while. A part of her saw that as a good thing. He could be at peace while he was asleep; he wasn't actively suffering. Nikita battled her tears at the thought. She had sworn that she was done crying, and she was going to hold to that. Michael really needed her to be strong. She wouldn't let him down. She had already caused him enough pain.
Leaving Michael to rest, Nikita went to help Alex plan their return home. Although the doctor advised that Michael stay a few days for observation, the illegal agents couldn't. Their cover might not hold for long. They had to return home as soon as possible. Once Michael was stable enough, Nikita and Alex would remove him from the military hospital and bring him to the airfield where the plane was still waiting. It was a risky move, but so was staying. Because of who they were, Michael had to receive the rest of his care in Medical.
Birkhoff was already working on hacking the hospital for Michael's records and sending them to Medical. The doctors in Division would be ready to receive him as soon as the agents returned. He could remain there for the few days he needed to be observed. And anything he needed, they would have for them. Medical might not have the same funds or staff as a hospital, but they could make it work. They needed to make it work. For illegal agents, there wasn't any other option. Nikita wished there was. She begged more than anything that her fiancé could have the best there was. They just didn't have that kind of luck.
As hurtful as the thought was, weighing on Nikita's shoulders and dragging her down, she needed to ignore it and trudge onward. It took a few more hours, but Michael was eventually ready for transportation. Nikita helped him change into the clothes Alex had brought, then she wheeled him out of the hospital. He tried to argue that he could walk; he didn't need a wheelchair. Yet his fiancée didn't want him straining himself. He had gotten so frustrated while trying to pull on fresh clothes with only one hand. And that frustration had exhausted him further. He needed to conserve his strength. His body could only take so much abuse.
Once Alex, Michael and Nikita were aboard the plane, silence consumed them. The Division agents and medical team that had rushed to Michael's aid returned to their posts. The three were alone as they flew back home, save for the pilot and copilot. However, there was no conversation. Besides a tight embrace, a murmur that she was sorry, and a promise that she was there for him, Alex didn't know what to say to Michael. She didn't know how she could make it better for him. It didn't help that she also had to adjust to the sight of him without a hand. She had to battle her shock just to be able to comfort him.
Although Michael appreciated Alex's hug- he had hugged her back- he was becoming frustrated with the constant gentleness. His shock and fear were melting into anger and annoyance. He no longer just wanted to ignore the whole thing, pretending it wasn't real. The situation was very real; the fact that he wasn't able to button his own pants was proof of that. Things were never going to be the same again. He wanted to be able to accept that and move on. Maybe then, things could be close to how they once were.
He wanted that. Michael didn't want to continue to suffer and have to face so much change. He wanted the pain to go away and the ache to end. He didn't want to face what all that change meant. Things were too much as it was. It all kept coming too fast. There was more and more information he couldn't comprehend. And everytime he thought he had it settled, more kept piling on. He couldn't get dressed without help. If that was true, then what else could he not do anymore. What else had to change at the cost of him living.
His fiancée remained by his side while his thoughts ran rampant. She had stopped saying anything, giving him her silent support to register and accept everything on his own terms. Nikita simply held Michael's one hand and leant him her strength. A part of him was so grateful for her; he didn't know what he would do without her. But the other part- the frustrated part- wanted her to cut it out. They should be actively fixing the mess she had gotten them into. Nothing would be resolved by sitting around and thinking. They had to act to resolve things.
Unfortunately, not everything would be resolved. Michael could adapt. He could learn to live with his new disability. But he couldn't fix everything. An amputated hand wasn't like a broken bone. It wouldn't heal. He was stuck like that forever. That didn't mean he couldn't live; life would just be hard. The difficulties he had faced in war would be nothing compared to adjusting to life without his dominant hand. Everything would have to be done differently. Nothing could be the same even with adaptations. Michael had to take it all one small step at a time. He couldn't rush it. Every little thing needed to be accepted and changed.
It couldn't all happen then. The pain wouldn't stop for a long time. Frustration kept rolling through Michael. He gripped Nikita's hand tightly. He couldn't accept all the change. He didn't even know how he was going to do it all. If he couldn't button his pants, how could he do anything. Although he knew it was possible- people could live a full life with handicaps and disabilities- how was he supposed to do it. How could he make it all work. He still couldn't process a damn thing. The pain was too much.
And so was the exhaustion. Michael attempted to fight against the pull to sleep and rest. There was so much he had to do. There was so much he had to adjust to. Maybe if he started then, it wouldn't take so long. It might not be forever. But he couldn't keep his eyes open- just like he couldn't keep the tears from them. Nikita didn't help as she tenderly caressed his cheek again. She urged him to rest and be at peace, and he couldn't fight her. He slumped in his seat. After Nikita placed a blanket on him, he lost his battle to the exhaustion that overtook him.
For a while, Nikita continued to tenderly caress Michael. She wanted to ensure he was actually resting soundly. It took some time before she could assure herself that he was. She tore her eyes away from him and studied Alex across the plane. The young woman curled in her seat and stared out the window. There wasn't much to see- only the barren ocean. However, Alex stared at it intently. She must've been seriously lost in thought. Nikita wanted to know what about. She had her suspicions, but she wanted to hear it from Alex. They had to talk, anyway. So, she moved to sit with her best friend, "Hey. Are you okay?"
"I should be asking you that," Snapping out of her thoughts, Alex replied. Nikita appeared to be doing far better than when her best friend had found her in the hospital. Alex didn't believe she could ever forget the image of Nikita covered in her fiancé's blood, screaming and crying about how much she had hurt him. Michael was alive and would be okay, but that hurt and fear over what had happened was still so present. The engaged couple would be reeling for a long time. The horror wasn't over yet.
Shaking her head, Nikita avoided eye contact. It was only for a moment. She didn't want Alex to be able to read her mind. She was far from okay. Even though Michael had been constantly by her side, she continued to hear his screams. She didn't think she could ever get them out of her head. But it could no longer be about her. Michael was the one who needed care. And so was Alex. Nikita felt awful for forgetting that Alex had recently relapsed. She had been so focused on the mission and her own pain, that she forgot her best friend was still suffering. The young woman needed comfort and care too, "I didn't mean to ignore you…"
"Hey. It's okay. There's a lot going on right now. You don't need to worry about me. It's okay to just focus on Michael right now. He needs you," Alex instantly shook her head. She couldn't pretend to understand what Nikita or Michael were going through at the moment. However, she could understand why she would possibly be ignored. Alex and her problems were nothing compared to the accident the engaged couple had suffered. Whereas she had purposefully messed herself up, they had endured- and continued to endure- unimaginable devastation. That could be the main focus for a while. One tragedy could trump another.
"You need someone too," Nikita refused to believe that, however. She could give both Michael and Alex her care and support. She couldn't deem one of them more important than the other; she couldn't claim that one of them had suffered more than the other. They were both going through hell. It was different types of hell, but it was hell nonetheless. Alex and Michael needed someone there for them. They needed someone to work with them through their hell. Nikita was determined to be that person. She wouldn't let either of them be alone. No matter what they were going through, no one deserved to suffer alone.
"I'm alright," It was Alex's turn to avoid eye contact. She definitely wasn't alright. She kept thinking about the performance enhancers and just popping one more pill. She knew she shouldn't. Yet with everything going on, her friends needed someone with a clear, determined, and focused head on their shoulders. Alex could possibly achieve that with drugs. It'd set her back even more, and there was a huge chance it wouldn't actually work. But she had no other solution. Alex couldn't think about anything but drugs, and it took everything in her not to actually follow through on those thoughts.
"I am right here for you. I'm sorry I never noticed you were suffering. And I'm sorry I ignored you. But I am here if you ever need anything. You are not alone. We can work through this together. You're going to get clean and stay clean," Fiercely, Nikita grabbed hold of Alex's hands. That was another promise she was determined to keep. Nikita hadn't been there for Alex before, yet she was going to be there for her then. The young woman would never be alone again. Her whole team would help her get clean again. No one would ignore her.
Alex had a lot of things she wanted to say in response. Except, the look in Nikita's brown eyes kept the words on her tongue. She couldn't argue against that look. She couldn't even deny her best friend's help. Alex could only squeeze Nikita's hands in return. The two women smiled softly at one another. They weren't full smiles, but they could be soon. Where they were just had to be dealt with first. Michael could be heard having a nightmare from across the plane. He tossed and turned, and his voice broke on a sob, "Nikki…"
"Go. I'm okay," Softly nudging Nikita back to her fiancé, Alex urged. Nikita didn't hesitate to return to Michael's side; though, she did pause to tenderly tuck Alex's hair behind her ear and gently kiss her forehead. She comforted her best friend before she soothed her fiancé's nightmare. It already felt as though she was being pulled in two different directions. However, she was going to hold to her promises. Everyone and everything would be okay. No more hell would fall upon her family.
When the three agents finally returned to Division, things didn't calm down like they had believed. Michael was rushed to Medical. Nikita urged Alex to go as well- have whatever effect the experimental drugs might've had on her checked out. She also moved to Ops to debrief about the mission. Ryan assured that she didn't have to; he got everything he needed from Alex and the other agents who had helped. And Birkhoff was focused on a possible prosthetic he thought he could acquire for Michael. There was so much to deal with and so much left to do. It wouldn't be calm for weeks- if ever again.
