"Nikita, it's Sean. I know you don't want to talk to me. But… I'm here. If you ever need anything, I'm still right here. Okay? Call me back," Sean left another message on Nikita's phone. She still wasn't answering him. Everytime he called, he was sent straight to voicemail. He somewhat expected that. He was well aware of how long his sister could hold onto a grudge. She continued to hate him for leaving and for what he had said to her. That was completely understandable. After all, he had begun to hate himself too.

But after what had just happened, Sean believed Nikita would have accepted his call. He thought she'd be willing to seek out comfort and talk to her brother. Yet she never reached out, and she never answered him. In fact, Sean only knew about the accident because Ryan had told him. The former analyst had called the Seal a few days after the fact, wondering if he would swing by Division to help his sister and future brother-in-law out. He had had no idea why they would've needed help. So, Ryan told Sean everything he needed to know about Michael's accident in the field and where the team currently stood.

Although Ryan was shocked neither Nikita nor Alex kept Sean in the loop, the Seal couldn't even feign surprise at the fact. That was simply how much he had screwed up. When something disastrous occurred, no one turned to him for help or support. His sister had cut off her fiancé's hand in order to save him, yet she continued to refuse to talk to her brother. She believed she couldn't find comfort in him. She couldn't turn to the family she had left to deal with her pain. Nikita would rather deal with it all on her own.

And she wasn't the only one doing that. Alex was trying to deal with her problems on her own as well. Assuming Sean hadn't heard anything from the team in weeks, Ryan also told him about Alex's relapse and the effect the experimental drugs had had on her. Sean didn't know how to respond to all the information he was bombarded with. Sure, he could understand why Alex and Nikita never told him what was occurring. Just like his sister, his girl (though, was she even still his girl) wouldn't seek comfort from him. She didn't believe he could help. And maybe he couldn't help them. The news of the relapse and Michael's hand had him too shocked to think.

Sean considered rushing to Division to talk to Nikita and Alex in person. He couldn't quite adjust to everything that had happened to Michael and Alex. Yet his own feelings didn't matter. He had to actually help the women. He had hurt them, he had pulled away, he hadn't been there when they needed him. It was his fault they stopped relying on him. He needed to fix that. He needed to show up and do whatever he could to help. It was up to Michael, Alex, and Nikita to determine what exactly he could do. However, he'd still be there for them. He didn't intend to leave them, the team, or anyone else ever again.

Except, as Sean prepared to return to Division and face the latest tragedies the hellhole had wrought, he balked. He held himself back. He could pretend that it was because of the Navy; he needed to do a few things before he was deployed again in a few months. But in all reality, he just couldn't gather the strength to see his friends and family suffering. Everything he had feared about Division had come true. It continued to kill, despite the good the team believed they were doing. Sean couldn't face that. He wanted to help, yet he was still so terrified of the destruction.

He settled on calling instead of actually walking into Division. Nikita ignored his calls. Michael did too (though, he was still healing in Medical). Sean considered going to his sister's apartment. Yet if she wasn't answering him, there was no way she'd let him into her home. The same could be said of Alex. She dumped his calls to voicemail, which meant she wouldn't open her apartment door to him either. Sean continued calling, however. He still tried to be there for his loved ones, "Hey, Alex. There's a lot I want to say… need to say. It'd be better to say it in person. But just know, you're not alone. I'm only a call away. So please call back."


Alex ignored Sean's call.

She tossed her phone across the room and attempted to listen to what Birkhoff was telling her. After Nikita had made her go to Medical to examine the effects of her relapse the week prior, she had been trying to manage her stress and blood pressure. Apparently, the experimental performance enhancers she had taken had spiked her blood pressure to dangerous levels. If she didn't get it under control, she could have serious health issues; a heart attack or a stroke were just a few of the scary examples thrown out there. Alex was benched until Medical cleared her for field duty. She seriously had to heal herself soon.

Unfortunately, Alex had no idea how to lower her stress or blood pressure. Nothing she did worked. Nikita suggested yoga. But, honestly, frustratingly attempting those complicated poses stressed the young woman out even more. In response to that, Birkhoff suggested meditation. The calming practice always helped him relax after horrible missions. He could teach Alex some tips to relax as well. Having no other option, the young woman relented. She let the hacker drag her off to an isolated place in Division and show her how to meditate.

"Just breathe, in and out. The more even your breathing, the more steady your heartbeat. Focus on that, and your mind should settle," Birkhoff spoke calmly. It was no secret how tense Alex had been since she had quit using again, and it wasn't just because of her increased stress levels. She had stopped taking the drugs, but she hadn't gotten clean yet. She wouldn't heal all the way. Nikita had attempted to help, yet she was understandably distracted by Michael. Alex was left to ignore the problem. Birkhoff wouldn't let her continue to do that. As he taught her to meditate, he forced her to confront her relapse head on.

Mostly, Birkhoff made Alex confront the reason she had relapsed in the first place. He might not have known much about addiction or drug use; however, he did know that understanding why there was a need to self-medicate could help resolve the issue. Alex needed to understand what was going on with her thoughts and emotions, so she could begin to truly heal. She needed to find the root of her problems and fix it. Her blood pressure and stress could also be fixed as a result.

Meditation was a great way to simply sit and think. Not only could Alex breathe and relax, she could also reflect on her relapse. It wouldn't be easy. However, nothing about healing oneself was easy. She would have to work hard to get clean and stay clean. She had done the first part before, so Birkhoff had no worries that she could do it again. After all, she had a whole team of people around to help her. She didn't have to go it alone like she had tried to do by taking drugs to silence her complex emotions. No one would ignore her that time.

"Fuck this," However, after Birkhoff left her to meditate, Alex soon gave up. She huffed and crumbled after only a few minutes of trying. It was pointless. She didn't want to sit and think. That wasn't productive. Doing nothing never helped her relax. She felt as though she was being lazy or unhelpful. She needed to be active, do something. So what if that didn't lower her stress. She really didn't want to give her thoughts the chance to run wild and unchecked. Alex needed to have control. So, making sure that Birkhoff wouldn't know she had given up so easily, she left her isolated meditation room and went to beat the shit out of a punching bag.

Pummeling an inanimate object was a great way to think about her fighting skills and relieve her pent up frustrations. Alex was sure her blood pressure would lower as a result. It just had to. She had to be in the field helping people again.


Nikita ignored Sean's call.

That was the millionth time he had called, yet she didn't care. She had far greater concerns than whatever he had to say to her. She didn't even check her messages. All her focus was on Alex and Michael. Although Nikita helped her best friend find ways to de-stress and lower her blood pressure, she didn't have a lot of time to talk to her. She wished she did. She knew they needed to have a serious discussion about the relapse and what had caused it. She was just so preoccupied with Michael. She wouldn't leave his side.

For the first few nights, she didn't. However, as the week went on, Nikita eventually went home while Michael stayed the night in Medical. He didn't need to be observed anymore; he was in the clear. Yet he continued to seem so shaky and unsure as he moved with only one hand. She helped wherever she could, but Michael was determined to learn how to live with his new disability on his own. He couldn't always rely on her to help him dress, shave, cook, all that. He had to learn how to only use his left hand by himself. Nikita gave him his space. It just didn't sit right with her. She didn't like the idea of him alone at that time.

Michael was determined to be, though, so Nikita didn't push it. She had wanted to be strong for him, to show that she'd be steady at his side. If that meant she had to unhesitatingly leave him when he asked, then so be it. She'd do whatever it took for him to know that she'd help him through his pain. When she wasn't with Michael, she was helping Birkhoff obtain a prosthetic for him. It took some time, especially with Division's limited funds. But they soon had a robotic prosthetic that should've been great for Michael.

Once Birkhoff calibrated the prosthetic, it was placed on an excited and relieved Michael's arm. He moved it around and tested out the responses. Mesmerized by the newness, Nikita lightly played with the fingers of the prosthetic. Michael let her. In fact, he tried to push against her fingers to play with her in return. He couldn't quite get it. The machinery moved awkwardly or not at all. Birkhoff explained how it functioned and that it'd take some time to get it right, "Alright. The prosthetic should respond to your commands. Just try to keep it simple at first, slowly work your way through it. Maybe try making a fist first."

Focusing intently, Michael tried to make the prosthetic respond to his thoughts. Nothing happened. He tried again, concentrating even harder, yet the machinery didn't even twitch. Instead, pain shot up his arm. He had treated the prosthetic so much like a real hand, his body had to harshly remind him that it wasn't. As he crumbled and settled in pain, Nikita instantly reached out to hold him. She looked him over, attempting to find the source of the pain. When she couldn't find it, panicked confusion overcame her, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just phantom pain," Michael admitted through clenched teeth. He clutched his right forearm, hoping that would do anything to relieve the pain. He had discovered that only time relieved the phantom pain. His mind and body needed to adjust to the fact that his hand wasn't there anymore. Sometimes, such as in that moment, the pain only lasts for a few agonizing moments. Other times, it seemed as though it would never end. The pangs were a constant reminder of what he had lost, as if he couldn't see that plain as day. It was honestly just another thing to be frustrated by.

"I didn't know you were still having those," Nikita didn't know how to ease Michael's pain. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off as he worked through the discomfort on his own. That was probably for the best. Phantom pain was something his own mind and body had to work through. It wasn't like she could slap a bandaid or balm on it. She still wanted to know if he was suffering, though. Yes, she couldn't actively soothe the pain. But, she could help Michael deal with it. She could comfort him.

"It's fine. I'm alright," Michael pushed Nikita away, however. He didn't need comfort. He just needed to make a fist with his prosthetic. If he could make a fist, he would be just fine. He wouldn't struggle or need help anymore. Although Nikita stepped away when he silently asked, Birkhoff moved closer. The nerd believed he could do something with the prosthetic to make things easier for Michael. He pushed him away as well. There wasn't anything anyone could do. That was all on Michael. He could handle it on his own. The pain had already gone away. He was fine, "No. It's fine."

Birkhoff and Nikita shared a quick glance. The hacker decided to leave the engaged couple alone; they needed a moment to talk. Michael didn't glance up at him as he left. His green eyes were ever so focused on his twitching prosthetic. Nikita hoped to gain his attention as she moved back near him. It had been a little over a week since he had been home. Since he had healed so much, and he had a prosthetic, maybe he'd finally go home with her. Neither of them would have to spend their nights alone. They could stay together, like how their future was supposed to be, "Do you think… do you think you could come home now?"

"I want to stay close to Medical. Just in case, you know," Not looking at Nikita, Michael expressed flatly. With his twitchy prosthetic, there were new things to monitor and take care of. He didn't want to risk the chance of anything going wrong. Medical continued to be the best place for him at the moment. He'd return home once he was ready. Nikita didn't need to worry. She could finally focus on other things besides him- Alex and the hunt for Amanda, for example. He'd be fine without her.

"Yeah," Nikita sighed. Part of her wanted to argue with Michael. She wanted to say that she could take care of him too. He didn't need to rely on Medical for everything. She could be there for him in the same way. However, she bit her tongue. He knew his body best. Michael knew what he needed to heal more than Nikita did. How she felt about his decision didn't matter. She should just support him. And she should just continue to be strong and steady. He'd always have her to rely on. Regardless of what he did, she'd be there for him.

Though, it would've been nice if he slept in the same bed as her again. That way, when she violently woke from a nightmare with his screams in her ears and his blood on her hands, she could turn to him and know he was alive.