Alex stared at herself. In trying to escape the nothingness, she found herself. Not her real self. She was herself. She was simply staring at her potential. After all the pain and agony Alex faced, she could become the most powerful woman in the world. Of course, sacrifices would have to be made. She couldn't have the light she had found and her agony. The two were mutually exclusive. She always had to suffer. Alex couldn't have it all. There was no possible way she could have both of the things she wanted most.
Returning to Division, Sean found Alexandra wandering the halls. She didn't look like she was conscious; she appeared as though she was in the same state she had been in Medical. She was muttering to herself about Nathan, a little girl, and needing to escape. Sean believed she was trying to act on that last point as she stumbled down the hallway. Whatever she was dreaming, it had her in a chokehold. She was lost to the images. He had to help her. He couldn't allow her to get hurt- it could compromise the mission.
Once Sean picked Alexandra up to carry back to Medical, Amanda rounded the corner. Apparently, while still in her dreamlike state, Alexandra broke out of her room and ran off. Instead of stopping her, Amanda followed to see where she would go. None of her secrets had surfaced, but Amanda believed wherever she was heading would lead to something. Sean shook his head. That was it. He was ending the whole thing. He didn't care what Amanda wanted; he simply wanted Alexandra safe. So, despite protests, he brought her back to Medical. She relaxed back in her cot for some time, then she woke violently, "Whoa. Relax. You're alright."
"Where am I? What happened?" Alex fought to orient herself. It took her senses far too long to recognize where she was and what she was doing. As soon as they did, she realized she clung to Sean's arm like it was a lifeline. She immediately let go. She didn't need him to pull her out of the muck her mind seemed to be in. She just needed to clear her head, drink some water, get some air, and learn which of her recent memories were real or a hallucination. She probably shouldn't mention that last thing to anyone. That was for her to work on alone and quickly.
"You're in Medical. They were helping you detox," Softly, Sean replied. He took a step back from her cot, and that seemed to help her relax. Alexandra pushed herself upright, breathing deeply and a tad shakily. A part of Sean desperately wanted to ask what she had been dreaming about while detoxing. However, after all of the prying Amanda had done, he thought better of it. He should leave Alexandra alone. He could wonder if there was anything he could help with. But otherwise, he shouldn't push for information, "Do you remember anything?"
"Yeah," The fog in Alex's mind slowly receded the more she breathed. She could recall the events in the brothel, then being brought to Division. Everything after that had to have been some kind of detoxing dream; though, it had seemed so real. She had fully believed that she was drowning and trying to escape. Her body definitely felt like that. Her heart felt like it had been racing a million miles per hour, and her muscles were incredibly tired. Maybe that was a part of the detoxing. Yet she doubted it. She had really wanted to escape the agony and darkness she had found. She didn't want to go sprinting towards it. She wanted light and bliss instead.
"Amanda wants to talk to you. When you're ready," Sean gave Alex a concerned look before he left the room. She wasn't going to let herself think about that. Nor would she let herself try to recall if he had really carried her, or if that was purely a dream. She couldn't think about Sean at that moment (or ever, really). Facing Amanda while her thoughts were a mess was the bigger issue. Alex had to get herself in order. She couldn't fall apart after her return to the brothel and after being forced to take heroin again. She had to remain strong. That was how she'd remain on mission. Her revenge would bring her bliss. At least, she had always believed so.
Nikita didn't question the text Michael had sent her. He wanted her to meet him at the loft as soon as she received Alex's fake ID packet. She assumed he had an idea to help Alex escape from Division, and the loft was an easier place to review their battle plans. She preferred easy after all the hell she just went through. It was ridiculous, yet so worth it, "You would not believe the shit I had to go through to get this ID packet. First, there was Nathan in Alex's apartment. Then, my contact tried to steal the money from me and turn me over to Division. Thank God I was able to read his tells and outsmart him, but Birkhoff's money unfortunately… Michael?"
Michael sat still in the desk chair. He didn't glance at the ID packet Nikita dropped on the bed, nor did he react to her story. It was almost as if he was a statue. The expression on his face was stone cold. He forced himself to be severely blank, practically unreadable. The last time Nikita had seen that expression, Michael had been planning a suicidal attack run against Kasim. She became terrified. She tried to approach him, yet the fierceness dulling his green eyes held her back. Something was wrong- something was so terribly wrong. She just prayed it wasn't anything like last time, "Michael, what is it?"
"Kasim works with Gogol. He smuggles heroin through their territory," Emotionlessly, Michael stated. He attempted to not let his reaction to the information express itself completely; however, in doing so, Nikita could tell exactly what happened. Birkhoff had a computer program actively searching for news about Kasim Tariq. After months of nothing, Michael finally got another hit. Discovering the connection between Gogol and Kasim was a huge shock- not nearly as huge as his connection with Division, but still nightmarish. It was a horrific thought, and it was going to make killing Kasim even more difficult than it already was.
"Shit. Seriously? Gogol and Division? What the fuck is up with this guy?" Nikita tried to ease Michael's apprehensions, yet it didn't work in the slightest. His expression was still strained into steely coolness, and she still didn't think she should move even closer to him. She couldn't fight the feeling that he was a bomb waiting to explode. One wrong move, and he was going to snap. Whether it was because Michael faced one more setback in his war with Kasim, or because he was planning something dangerous, Nikita didn't know. And she kind of didn't want to.
"Don't act like you didn't know," The first cracks in Michael's stern mask appeared. He was livid with her. He was trying not to show it all at once. He tried to be so distant from her that she couldn't read him like she normally could. Yet Nikita knew when someone wanted to hurt her. After all, the same darkness that had appeared in Michael's gaze after she had stopped him from killing Kasim, flashed in his eyes at that moment. It was brief, but it was still there. She had done something to infuriate him. She just didn't know what it was.
"What are you talking about?" Not giving in to her rising anxiety, Nikita asked softly. Maybe she was wrong- hopefully she was wrong. Michael probably wasn't angry with her. Why should he be. He was probably too distracted by his rage for Kasim. He always was whenever the terrorist reappeared on his radar. And why shouldn't he be. Kasim killed his family. He took away his happiness and his love with a bomb meant for him. Of course Michael was pissed. The fact that he was able to somewhat hide it was a miracle. Nikita would've detonated by then.
"You've been working with Gogol," Michael, however, continued to be a ticking timebomb. He was going to explode soon; the cracks were already becoming too great. His steely composure was barely containing him. He might just get violent. Concerning Kasim and Percy, Nikita completely understood. Concerning his thoughts about her and Gogol, however, she was left hopelessly bewildered. Was Michael that blinded by his need for revenge that he was confusing events. Or was he looking for someone easy to blame. Nikita definitely was an easy target by constantly being around him. Besides, she had burdened misdirected rage before.
However, she wasn't going to take it from Michael. Nikita didn't have to. She could dare to approach him and rationalize with him. He needed to calm down. If he just thought for a second instead of being so angry, then he'd see how ridiculous he was being. She realized that was asking a lot of him, but Nikita had to try. Michael was doing that for Alex by trying to get her out of Division before her vengeance ate her up alive. And he had fought for Nikita to be more than her rage, "What? No. I was poisoned by Gogol, and then I was nearly killed for a dirty weapon. Remember? You were there during that."
"I was there when you talked Ari into fighting Division and letting us go. I was also there when you stopped me from killing Kasim," So Michael was both confusing events and finding someone easy to blame. His wrath needed to be directed at someone easily obtainable. Nikita was there. She had been around Gogol missions. She had stopped Michael before. And she had hurt him so many times when he was rogue and she wasn't. They had been on opposing sides of the war for so long. Who was to say she still wasn't with him.
"Whoa. Michael. We already talked about this, remember? I stopped you to save you, not to save Kasim. And I didn't talk Ari into anything. I tricked him just like I tricked Division. I'm not working for Gogol. I would never. All I care about is helping you," Slowly and gently, Nikita tried to reason with Michael. They had had the argument about her stopping his suicidal attack run months ago. They had been in his motel bathroom, screaming and seething while he patched up her injuries from her latest scrape with Division. Everything had gotten fixed between them. After all that, they had grown closer and became better. He couldn't forget that.
He didn't seem to completely. He also didn't seem like he wanted to yell at Nikita. There was a war behind Michael's green eyes. Nikita saw it easily. After all, the struggle was entirely too recognizable to her. Michael was in incredible pain. He wanted to eviscerate the man who had killed the people he had loved most. That need for revenge was all controlling; he was lost to it. He had no control of who he hurt in the process, even if he didn't want to lash out, "Michael, I know how hard this is for you. But I promise, I would never do anything to hurt you. I want Kasim to die just as much as you do. Okay? So just think. I have nothing to do with Gogol."
"Shut up!" Michael screamed. Nikita flinched. She expected him to strike her. Yet no blow came. He just shot up from his chair, his gun in his hand. It took everything in her to not shake. She had faced armed men before; she had faced an armed Michael before. She knew how to protect herself. She knew that she could be okay. Except, she had never seen Michael so angry with her before. And she had given him plenty of opportunities to hate her. He did at times. Yet that time was different. All his pain boiled out of him, changing him. She couldn't fault him for that. She had gone through something similar. But she was still scared of what might happen.
Flicking his gun at her, Michael silently commanded Nikita to disarm. She didn't even think to trick him. She gently placed her weapons on the ground, then followed his next silent command to sit. She sat stiffly on the edge of the mattress. He didn't point his pistol directly at her, yet his grip on the gun was ironclad. He wouldn't hesitate to shoot if he had to. Nikita wished he would. Michael had to listen. She would never hurt him, not anymore. Just because she had in the past, didn't mean she was like Kasim, "Michael, I'm not trying to fight you."
"I want you to contact Ari," Ignoring her, Michael began to inform her of the plan he was going to force her to follow. He actually didn't have to force her. Even then, Nikita would still do anything to help him get Kasim. There were simply smarter ways- safer ways. No one else had to die. Only Kasim, Percy, and Semak would be killed. Everyone else could be safe. However, if Michael continued with his plan, Nikita would die too. Gogol was as dangerous for her as Division was. He still had to care about that, "Tell him you're sorry, that you need a job."
"You're putting me in danger," Speaking in plain words had to make Michael understand. Nikita going to Ari was the same kind of death sentence as her going to Percy. After she had destroyed two of Gogol's operations, duping Ari, killing his agents, and just ruining everybody's days, she had a huge target on her back. The instant she walked into Gogol territory, she was dead. She couldn't even fathom a way she could talk herself out of that fate. She would try for Michael, yet he might not get the results he wanted. They had to play it a different way.
"Contact me, and only me, once you have Kasim. Don't you dare try to bring Birkhoff into this again. If you haven't contacted me in twenty-four hours, I'll know you failed," Still ignoring her, Michael continued with his plan. Nikita had no idea why he was so determined to keep out Birkhoff. Maybe it was because he wanted to handle everything on his own. Kasim was his kill mission. Nikita was only used as a pawn. Since Birkhoff wouldn't be able to do much (besides talk sense) he was being pushed aside. It was just the two rogue agents; though, they weren't partners anymore. They were far from it.
Knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the mattress, Nikita struggled for anything else she could say to snap Michael out of his wrath. She could potentially figure out a way to clue Birkhoff in on what was occurring; however, she didn't want him to suffer the same hurt Michael was inflicting on her. She could survive on her own. She could make him see past his pain. She just didn't know what to say as he walked away. Rapidly, her determination became desperation. He couldn't leave. He needed to be stopped. No more suicide missions. How was their death going to bring vengeance, "Michael, please…"
"Please what? Don't do this to you?" Michael stalked back towards Nikita. She fought to keep herself still on the edge of the mattress. Then wasn't the time for her fears to attack her. She had to remain herself. God knew Michael wasn't himself. His pain had turned him into the man who had lost his wife and daughter ten years ago; nothing else about him existed. He was only his pain; which made him the hurtful man before her. She shouldn't react to that. She needed to see past his hurt and try to bring him back to himself. It was so they both could survive.
"Don't do this to us," Forcing her voice to be strong, Nikita argued. Michael had fought for her when she was too consumed with her pain to be anything else besides hurtful. He had stuck by her. He had helped her be herself again. He had made her stronger. She needed to do the same for him. It was hard- it was so hard- to not be blinded by vengeance, rage, and hurt. Yet Michael had always been better than that. He was certainly better than Nikita. He could fight through that wrath. He had to. He couldn't be lost to that darkness like she was. Please not him.
"This is no us. There never was," With one more dig of the knife, Michael turned and left. Nikita wanted to call bullshit- because it was- yet she couldn't do anything. She just sat on the bed, letting his pain crush her.