Fresh Start
Madeline watched Alexandra as she walked into the younger woman's hospital room. Alexandra managed a brave smile for Madeline, and took a deep breath. What Madeline had not told Michael yesterday was that she had no intention of canceling Alexandra.
Alexandra's case was extremely fascinating - and unusual. The defense mechanisms were gone. She wasn't caustic or argumentative - not in the least bit cocky. Before, she avoided being touched. Now she didn't, she craved it. Her reaction to being questioned was calm - she was curious, and open. Nothing like what she'd been when she'd come to Section One. All of those things that composed her personality - were gone. They were all things she'd learned to cope with her situation.
Now, Madeline had the closest thing to a child to train. What parts of Alexandra's personality would come through again? Would they see other coping behaviors - things that had been unacceptable to her before?
Madeline also knew that this could all backfire too. Alexandra could remember some day. But the chances of that happening were very slim.
"So is this the interview where you decide if I live or die?" Alexandra asked her.
Madeline didn't falter, didn't react. She pulled up a chair and sat down, "You're well informed."
The corner of Alexandra's lip turned up in a half smile, "No one has come out and said it - but I over heard some of the medical techs talking about cancellation - and I've been told a lot about what I did here - what everyone does here . . . 2 and 2 always equal 4 - no matter how you say it."
One of the things that Madeline had rarely seen in Alexandra before - was fear. Now the redhead showed it openly - but she didn't panic and allow herself to be reduced to a blubbering mess.
Alexandra was scared now - but she was facing it down too. A promising sign.
"You present a unique . . . opportunity," Madeline told her, "Languages were never lost. You still posses certain motor skills - no one had to teach you how to use a fork again. We won't know about your advanced motor skills for a few weeks. It will be interesting to see your personality take shape and develop as you retrain - without a past history interfering."
The redhead blinked, "I'm gonna be a guinea pig."
"Yes," Madeline told her, "Despite your lack of a memory - you still have a certain amount of determination obviously. I think we'll see the personality traits that are genetic come out - without the interference of some of your learned behaviors."
"What were the learned behaviors?" Alexandra asked her.
"You are openly defiant when you're forced to do something you don't want to do," Madeline told her, "You test the authority figures in your life when you're angry - regardless of the consequences. You put yourself at risk unnecessarily for long periods of time - an indirect suicide gesture. Guilt weighed very heavily on you."
"For killing a child molester? I thought you told me I felt justified in my actions," Alexandra said softly.
"You did feel justified, you showed no remorse over his death at all," Madeline replied, "You carried the guilt for not acting - for not seeing what was happening to your friend. For the loss of innocent lives - when you continued to live - in this life."
Alexandra frowned, "I sound like a basket case."
Madeline smiled a little bit, "Your emotions were complex. You used them to push your performance more often than not."
Alexandra digested this for a moment, "I suppose you have some idea of what I'm gonna turn into."
Madeline shook her head, and lied. "I have no idea. This will prove interesting."
Madeline stood up to leave, "You'll begin the parts of training that are not physical today."
Alexandra watched the older woman leave, wondering what Madeline was thinking about her. Alexandra wondered if she had been good at reading faces before her accident. She certainly wasn't now. But she could learn . . .
Kristie was so relieved when she'd learned that Alexandra was not going to be canceled. She had no idea how she was gonna get Alexandra across the country to San Francisco - without getting them both caught and killed. Stephen was keeping her on a short leash too. She'd asked Joel to keep her posted on how Alex's health was - and he was reluctant. Kristie was worried that if she propositioned him, he'd have gone to Operations, or Madeline.
She'd even considered mascarading as one of the techs. There was one who looked enough like her - if she had a scrub cap on - and inside med lab, they usually did. Kristie had even researched what kinds of sleep drugs she could see substituted - and then just steel the body . . .
"You look more relieved than I am!" Alexandra said, laughing a little.
Kristie rolled her eye's, someday I'll have to tell her . . . just not now . . .
"Well, I'll help you with your computer lessons - Birkhoff once told me you were totally uninterested in computer's until you started in with the photography," Kristie told her, "According to him, unless it involved you playing with a photograph, you avoided computers like the plague."
"I'd like to see some more of my photographs - Darren brought in a whole box - he said it was nothing compared to what I have in my apartment. I guess my walls are covered in photographs," Alexandra told her, her sigh telling Kristie she was frustrated.
"You once told me you didn't remember what color paint was on the walls in your apartment - because they were covered in photo's," Kristie told her, "Maybe I could go get some more for you - and your camera - just to see who it feels in your hands."
Alexandra nodded, and took a deep breath, "I hate this - I understand languages - but I can't think of words to describe what it feel's like to be missing so much."
Kristie chewed her lower lip, and squeezed the redheads hand, "Alex - I know having . . . nothing . . . there in your memory is frustrating - but some of your memories were pretty bad - I'm glad you don't have some of them."
The redhead nodded, "But there had to be good memories too . . ."
Kristie nodded, "I'm sure there were - you get to make new ones now."
Nikita was still limping a little bit. She'd be back on active duty in a few more days. But she could walk around now, unassisted. She'd learned of the decision to retrain Alexandra this morning. She'd be confined to Section One for the duration. House keeping would be here tomorrow - and housekeeping wasn't always known for being careful with personal effects.
So today, Nikita wanted to try and save as much as possible. She knew the photographs would be the most important thing to Alexandra. So Nikita filled her car with box's, and began the daunting task of taking the pictures down from the wall, and carefully packing them.
Besides what was up on the wall - there was a filing cabinet of negatives - from when Alexandra had been processing them with chemicals, instead of using the digital camera. Nikita found labeled disks as well. She'd been at it for hours, when she heard a knock at the door. A moment later, Michael was letting himself in. He'd knocked so she wouldn't be startled.
"Hey," Nikita smiled at him, "How are things at work?"
Michael enjoyed watching Nikita. She had on jeans and a T-shirt, and she stood on a ladder, peeling photo's off the wall, high up where it was hard to reach. Her hair had been pulled back and twisted, secured with a pen of all things.
"At a lull, for the moment - we have teams out gathering Intel - I'll be going out early tomorrow," Michael told her, and he took the pile of photographs that Nikita had on the tray, and carefully arranged them to place in a box.
"I've only been working on the photographs, I haven't had a chance to really search the place yet," Nikita told him, "I keep getting caught up in what I'm seeing."
She reached up, and pulled the last of the photographs of the wall, and started down the ladder, "I wonder if she'll take this up again."
"She's asked for her camera," Michael told her, "And her photographs."
"I guess that answer's my question," Nikita laughed.
Michael slid hid hands around her waist from behind as she stepped away from the ladder, pulling her back against his chest, He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, "When do you think we can be out of here?"
"Help me search her bedroom for anything we don't want housekeeping to ruin, and I'll be out of here in half the time," Nikita told him, her fingers curling around his.
Michael slid his fingers into hers, and together they started in on Alexandra's bedroom. They went through the dresser, the closet, looked under the bed, carefully examined the floor boards for any sign that she might have hid something underneath there. The bathroom only revealed toiletries and neatly folded towels.
Michael started to take boxes down to his blazer while Nikita carefully took apart the computer. They took everything back to Section One, and put in into the room that were her quarters there. Nikita had remained quiet while they were moving the photographs and computer into her quarters there. Michael was about to ask her what she was thinking about, but changed his mind - because of where they were.
"So they're going to retrain her," Darren's voice said, from the doorway.
His hair was wet, he looked like he'd just recently showered.
"Yes," Nikita told him, "We brought her photographs - and her equipment in ourselves - just in case housekeeping was feeling a little rough tomorrow."
Michael was just about to start hooking up the computer again.
"Michael," Darren said, "I'll do that - I'm sure you've got other things to do."
All three of them knew that Darren was feeling helpless, and wanted to do something for her. Michael put the cable down, "Thank You - it's been a long day - and I'm out early tomorrow."
Darren nodded, "I'm gonna go check on Alex - then get to this then."
Nikita and Michael drove their own cars back to Michael's apartment. They got out, and Nikita met Michael on the steps to his building. Once they were inside, and away from prying eye's on the street, Michael slid his fingers into hers.
"What's on your mind?" Michael asked her, stopping them so he could check his mail box.
"She's going to be a guinea pig for Madeline, isn't she," Nikita said softly, "I can't help but think that canceling might have been kinder."
Michael squeezed her hand, "She'll have enough influences besides Madeline. We won't let Section turn her into a monster."
Nikita felt relief and love surge through her. Michael always seemed to understand her fears and concerns, and he never stopped trying to find a way - even when he knew he had no other choices.
Kristie saw Stephen waiting for her out in the hallway.
"I guess he wants my attention," Kristie told Alexandra, "I guess I should go grace him with my presence."
Alexandra laughed, "Stephen is your . . . mentor? Is that the word they use here?
"That's the word that Madeline and Operations like. I have a few other pet names for him - none of which is complementary - he's OK most of the time," Kristie told her, "I'll catch ya later."
Stephen had motioned for Kristie to come out in the hall. He was a little nervous about how attached she was getting to some people here. Eventually, they all died. He didn't want compassion to be her undoing - and that was exactly what he told her.
"Kristie - you shouldn't get to involved with people here. Eventually, we all die. If you get attached, you're finished," he told her.
She laughed at him, "Who pissed in your wheaties today? I choose to enjoy life while I have it. Having friends makes the days bearable."
Stephen sighed, "Compassion is going to be your undoing. DO NOT get involved, that's an order. We have a briefing in 20 minutes."
He turned to leave.
"Hey!" Kristie snapped at him, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back, "I didn't fuck up, get arrested and ask to be put in this shit hole! You can take your isolationist dogma shit and shove it up your ass! If I want friends, I'll have them. When they get killed, I cry and go on - even when it's you!"
Stephen grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard, breaking her grasp on his sleeve, "You didn't ask for this place? You were fucking around with a section one operative -"
"Over five years go - I fucked an operative who was sent to seduce me to get to someone else! I didn't carry on an affair!" Kristie snarled back at him, yanking her wrist out of his hand.
"Because it was a one night stand - that makes it OK?" Stephen snapped back, " and you killed red cell operatives - five of them! You may never have been caught by the police, but -"
"The same police that wouldn't have been able to protect me if I just slipped away and not killed them? The same five red cell operatives that were gonna pick my brain about Michael and Section One no doubt! I'd have relished the chance to go before a jury - and get back a real life!" Kristie yelled at him, "I do my job here! You don't have to like what I do with my free time - or who I do it with!"
She shoved past him, "And don't give me shit about one night stands! You could use a good fuck Stephen - it might stop all that dick measuring you and Michael seem to do!"
Alexandra sighed. She was so bored. She'd been studying the written stuff all day long. Michael had brought her a lap top for her to use. She'd spent the entire day going through the policies and procedures manuals, and at the end of this day - came to the conclusion that everyone broke about half of them - often.
The door swooshed again, and Alexandra looked up, to see Darren walking in. His hair was damp.
"So how was your mission?" Alexandra asked him.
Darren just stared at her for a moment. What a relief - to see her alive and breathing. The dull ache that he felt constantly - knowing that she had no memory of him, of what they shared, was still there, but at least there was hope now. On the other hand she wasn't going to be tormented by things in her past she could not change now, either.
"Busy," Darren told her, "One thing led to another - that's why we are out so long. How are you feeling?"
She groaned, "Bored. I've read through the rules and regs manuals, did my computer lesson modules . . . they're retraining me - all the nonphysical stuff for now."
There was a wheelchair next to the bed.
"Michael and Nikita were putting some of your stuff in your old quarters - If you like, I'll take you down there - I was just gonna hook up your PC."
"Can I talk you into taking me down to the cafeteria first? I'm getting hungry - and the staff here is awful busy with a team that came in yesterday," she asked him.
"Sure," he said, adjusting the rails to the hospital bed down. He lifted her own of the bed, and set her in the wheel chair. She was dressed in the white draw string pants and white take top that was the norm for medlab. Darren arranged a blanket around her shoulders and on her lap, and started to push the chair.
"Someone's scaring up a motorized one for me - for the next couple weeks - I can't use crutches until my arm heals - which will be about the same time my leg does apparently - and that little hole someone made in my head."
Her hair was brushed over the bandage. Darren almost couldn't see where it was. He resisted the urge to kiss her there. He remembered once when he was complaining about some stitches that were itching, and to tease him, she'd said something about kissing it to make it better - then she'd pressed her lips to the skin next to the suture line - a quick peck, very chaste - but I reached someplace deep in side him.
"Does your head hurt at all?" Darren asked her as he wheeled her down the hall.
"No actually," Alexandra told him, "But it looks nasty."
Darren laughed, "I bet."
"You should have see my stomach - nasty brownish yellow - from the bruises. Not my best color I'm sure," she told him.
She nodded at Walter, as he waved from his work station on the far side of the room they were passing.
"He calls me Red and Sweetheart - honey - did I have a lot of pet names?" Alexandra asked Darren softly.
"That's about what Walter called you. I called you Red - and Alex. A lot of people call you Red. Michael calls you Red in French - Alexandra when he's pissed at you," Darren told her.
"What did you call me when you were pissed at me?" she asked him, tilting her head back to look back at him.
Darren frowned, "I . . . we had one big blow out once, I called you some things I didn't mean - but when we got irritated - we didn't have pet names for that. Macho prick once - when you were pissed at me - and I deserved it."
She laughed, "Should I ask what you did?"
Darren groaned, "Alex - I would rather have you never remember or feel what we were feeling then. It's in the past, we'd left it behind."
She nodded, "I guess that's the only cool thing about this - I don't have the bad memories."
Nikita sat on the counter top in Michael's apartment, a glass of wine in hand. He was making dinner, and would not allow her to help. It was some kind of chicken dish - and it smelled wonderful. He refilled her wine glass, and Nikita teased him.
"You don't have to get me drunk to have your way with me, You can have me sober too," she told him.
Michael dipped his finger in the wine, and spread it on her lower lip, and then kissed her lower lip, "But this is fun."
Nikita laughed, and pulled him back, and dipped her finger in the wine and wiped it on his neck, then licked it off, "Yeah, you're right, it is."
Michael captured her lips with his, kissing her hungrily for a few moments, "I thought should have brought home some strawberries . . ."
Nikita sighed softly, her fingers entangling in his hair. Once, she and Michael had been stuck somewhere, on a mission. They had to lay low in the woods for a few hours. There were some wild strawberries growing on the edge of the woods, and he slithered out on his belly, and picked some, and brought them back. He'd let her bite one in half, then proceeded to unzip her jumper, and smear the fruit on her breasts, then lick up the juices. It was one of Nikita's best memories . . .
"I can't look at strawberries, without thinking of that - that was one of my favorite times," she told him, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, "I love you Mr. Deveraux."
Michael grabbed her palm and pressed his mouth to her palm, pressing a wet kiss there, "I love you, Mrs. Deveroux."
The buzzer went off, jerking their attention back to the present.
Michael grabbed up the hot pads, and took the meal out of the oven. Nikita took a deep breath, "Michael - that smells so good - is there anything you don't do well?"
Michael chuckled, "I was never much of a people person - before you. You taught me that."
Nikita felt her heart wrench - thinking of all the cold years Michael had spent . . . not anymore, she told herself.
She slid off the counter, and took plates from the cabinet, and started to set the table.
They sat down to dinner, and Nikita was about to ask him for advice on how to handle a certain recruit - but Michael distracted her.
He'd stabbed up a piece of food from her plate, and fed her. They spent the rest of the meal doing that. Feeding each other. Neither one of them mentioned anything about Section one until very late that night, just as they were both about to doze off after making love.
"I want you to come meet my contact with me tomorrow," Michael told her, "I trust him - and you know I trust you . . ."
Kristie found herself in another sexy dress, in another night club. She knew were Stephen was, watching in the background.
Tonight's outfit was a plum colored satin creation, bare legs and strappy high heels. It was a spaghetti strap style, form fitting and it came to mid thigh. She had on silver bangle bracelets and hoop earrings - and when she put on the earrings, she thought of Alexandra. Alexandra always had hoop earrings in - except now.
Her target was a GQ playboy that picked his women up in a bar, and left them the next morning. Kristie wouldn't be going home with this one though. Her job was to tag him, and leave him in the bar. Right now, they were just waiting for him to show. If he didn't ask her to dance, she'd approach him. She sipped a coke tonight - staying away from alcohol when she could. She never knew how long she'd be on these things - and she wanted her to keep her drinking social.
She accepted a few offers to dance, then sent the would be suitors on their way. Each and everytime, she managed to get a good look at Stephen's face while she danced with the men. He appeared calm, but there was something in the way he watched her. Kristie was very good at reading people - and though Stephen hadn't been easy to learn, she'd managed somehow. He was a little jealous. Of course - she'd goaded him on though too. But he'd asked for it.
She spotted her target walking in. He ordered himself a drink, and stood off to the side of the bar, watching the people, the crowd. Kristie was dancing with someone else at that point, but she finished her dance. She'd take her time placing the tracker. I wouldn't look so casual if she walked up to him the moment he walked in.
She waited until it had been half an hour, and walked over to the bar where he was standing, and ordered another drink, and took a seat there.
He looked over at her, "I haven't seen you here before."
That was just about lame, she thought to herself. She almost asked him if he was running low on pick up lines. But this was one of his hang outs. He'd know a lot of the faces.
"I've never been here before," she told him, "I'm kind of on a vacation - of sorts."
"Yet you appear to be alone," he commented.
"At the moment," she told him, and looked him over.
She set her drink on the bar, far enough back to the bartender could watch it, and looped her arm through her targets, and drew him out onto the floor. It was one of those songs that allowed you to hang on your partner, and bump and grind. Kristie slipped her hands inside his collar, spreading out her fingers. She placed the tracker - and he didn't notice. She didn't expect him too. They danced, got off the dance floor, and talked for a little while longer. She made an excuse to go to the powder room, and slipped out of the club.
"You took your damn sweet time," Stephen commented, climbing into the back of the van.
Kristie had just peeled off her shoes, "It would be a little obvious if I jumped on him the moment he walked in, and left right after I danced with him. Is it so difficult for you to stand back and watch?"
"Not every man will fall helpless at your feet Kristie," Stephen warned her.
"No, not all of them - just most," she said, sighing, and stretched.
She saw Gayle smile and shake her head, on the far side of the van, tracking the target.
"Where did you get such a high opinion of yourself?" Stephen said, looking over at her.
Kristie propped her feet up on the bench across from her, "Hoping I'll say something you can insult me with?"
Stephen opened his mouth - but nothing came out. He shook his head, and sat back. They road back to the rest of the team in silence.
In a few hours, they'd have the information they'd need to get through his security system, and they'd be able to take him, and get to his files. The tracker Kristie had placed on him would tell them what the frequency was.
Darren heard Alexandra laugh from down the hall as he walked to Med Lab. When he got there, he saw her getting used to steering the motorized wheel chair. Walter had just jumped back out of the way.
"Women drivers!" Walter teased her.
She turned the wheel chair towards him, "I hear you can't drive anything with more than two wheels!"
"I wouldn't want to drive anything with more than two wheels!" Walter told her, and felt a little sadness. She'd sat up with him while he drove late one night, across country in that van, when they were running from the group that had attacked Section One. But she didn't remember that.
"So what is it that you drive Walter? Harley?" she asked him.
"Usually," he told her, "I promised you lessons once - but I never got around to teaching you."
She laughed, "Well, at least you won't have to teach me twice!"
She started to get the hang of it, and aimed for the door that Darren held open. Walter followed a few steps behind her, and nodded to Darren, "Kid, how ya doing?"
Walter had always called Darren Kid, it was a sign that Walter really liked him, "Horny and frustrated, you?"
"So what's new?" Walter joked back, "Me too. Been trying to convince Red here that older men really are better in bed - but she told me she wanted to take it easy on herself for a few more weeks."
Walter was one of the few people that could joke this way with Darren - and it was only because Walter would never really do it.
Alexandra stopped, and looked back at him, "Do you think this chair could handle that?"
"We could find out!" Walter told her letcherously.
She laughed, and kept going.
Darren rolled his eye's, and looked at Walter, and mouthed, "I'm gonna die if this keeps up!"
Walter gestured to his palm, pointing out the calluses. Darren grimaced, and Walter grinned, and took off down a different hall for his work station.
"Can you help me put my PC back together?" Alexandra asked him as they rounded the corner, going into the hall where her quarters were.
"Sure," he told her, "that's what I'd planned to do actually."
He held the door open for her and she rolled through, and stopped by the side of the bed, next to all the boxes with the photographs.
She started to go through them, and Darren started to put together the computer.
"I heard that Birkhoff say's I'm almost computer illiterate - did you do this for me a lot?" she asked him.
Darren was on the floor, on his side, and looked over at her, "Uh . . . no . . . you weren't computer illiterate - you just weren't a fanatic. Birkhoff thinks that everyone who doesn't eat sleep and dream computers is illiterate. He thinks I'm pretty good - but I can't use your software to save my life."
She took a deep breath, "I don't know if I can either."
Darren looked back over at her, "Hey . . . you'll get there."
She nodded, and reached for the camera.
It felt like it belonged in her hand, which Alexandra thought was a good sign. Somehow, she knew where the disk went, and she held it up to her eye, and played with the zoom, looking through the view screen. She aimed it at Darren, and somehow just knew that she'd photographed him a lot.
"Hey," she said, calling him softly.
Darren pushed his hair back from his face, a smile spreading across his lips. Her voice was soft and husky. He felt something inside him coil - he'd heard that voice a lot, when they were alone . . .
He looked at her, and she clicked a picture of him.
"I just knew . . . I look through the view here - and all the little buttons and stuff just . . . make sense!"
Darren grinned, "You see, I told you."
She nodded, and set the camera down, and started to go through one of the boxes.
Madeline hadn't argued when Nikita announced that she was going to meet Michael's contact with Michael. She's presented it as networking. Michael was not immortal - none of them were. Why lose a contact because there isn't anyone else in Section that the contact trusts? It could be argued that Madeline could torture information out of someone if they needed it bad enough - but then it was a one shot deal. Some contacts were better left unhurt - because they were continual sources of information.
It was a business outing, so they were all business. Nikita and Michael didn't speak much, they didn't need to. What one set of eyes didn't see, the other set did. They knew what the other was going to do, without having to ask.
Michael had his gun in a shoulder holster, and Nikita wore hers in the back of her waist band. Her outfit that day was white leather, white sunglasses to go with it. Michael sported his usual black on black. She caught a reflection of them in the glass of a storefront window as they walked by, and it occurred to her what a contrast they were.
They entered the bar in Amsterdam, and took a seat at table in back. The pungent odors of various smoking substances hung heavy in the air, and Nikita had to work at not crinkling her nose. The waiter came by - and they ordered bottled Perrier.
"He'll watch us before he approaches us," Michael told her, "Let me do the talking."
Nikita nodded. This was a watch and learn mission.
They sat there for 30 minutes, before someone approached. He was skinny. Beady little eye's that seemed to bulge out of his head, and his expensive suit just didn't hang well.
"Who's the blonde?" he asked Michael.
"My associate - an friend. Nikita - Nikita, Hakar. I trust her," Michael told him, and nudged a chair out for Hakar to sit in.
Hakar looked Nikita over. She managed a business like smile as he sat down.
"How much do you trust her Michael?" Hakar asked him, still glancing over at Nikita.
"With my life," Michael told him, "And I don't even have to pay her."
"I'd make a lot more If I sold this to Salan Bidden Dahn!" Hakar whined, "But I want do to the right thing."
Nikita rolled her eye's.
"I have to leave soon Hakar," Michael told him, "What do you have for me?"
"Schier Bemannen is brokering to purchase ebana - ebola virus spores- or some kind of shit like that," Hakar told him, "I wired the money to a swiss account."
Nikita knew Schier Bemannen meant pure man in German. They were the terrorist group Alex and Kristie had been sent to probel.
"Who," Michael asked calmly.
"An account - that's all I know. The only reason I even know that some kind of virus is being bought up is because they were talking about it in German - I use translators with clients now - and if they speak Swede - I speak Swede," Hakar told him.
Hakar passed a piece of paper to Michael. It had a bank name, and account number. Hakar looked at Michael expectantly.
The envelope came from Nikita's jacket. It was thick, small bills were used.
"Nice doing business with you Nikita," Hakar said, the way he looked at her telling her she still being measured.
She nodded, and she and Michael watched Hakar leave.
"He picked this place or you?" Nikita asked Michael, wrinkling her nose.
Michael tossed some money down on the table, "I did. No one here sees anything."
"Because they're too stoned to remember anything," Nikita commented under her breath.
Michael didn't argue with her. He knew she understood why. They walked out of the bar, and Nikita took a deep breath, and they hailed a cab.
"So tell me more about your friend," Nikita said, once they were out of the cab again, and walking through the airport.
"He's a banker," Michael told her, "He launders money. I saved his life - once."
Nikita nodded, and they remained quiet as they went back through customs. They'd come and they'd now leave on a commercial flight.
Kristie felt her stomach twist, and threaten to toss up what little amount of food she'd managed to eat. She'd been nervous - and nauseated - for hours. This was the first assault she'd be an active participant on.
Stephen was three feet away from her, pressed down into the brush, just as she was. Gayle was hacking the security system at that very moment. As soon as it was down, they'd cut through the fence, and attack.
"Stephen," Gayles voice came, "It's coming down . . . . now."
"Ben, Kyle, cut the fence," Stephen ordered.
Kristie watched, her stomach in her throat as two black clad Section Operatives materialized out of the dark, and cut through the fence, and peeled it back.
"Everyone go," Stephen ordered, his voice calm.
Everyone got up and raced for the fence, slipping through. She was second to the last, Stephen right behind her.
They all knew where they were supposed to go, how they'd move once they were in the house. Two other operatives were first in, and within moments, they were all moving through the house. Gayle called out positions of hostiles in their ears. They wanted their target, and they wanted to download his PC.
"Stephen, you have two coming towards you, from the east," Gayle told them.
Kristie pressed herself against the wall in a door frame, her rifle up and sighted. A wave of nausea hit, and she wavered a little. She hoped Stephen didn't notice. She'd never hear the end of it.
The both appeared at the same time, guns up and ready to fire. She knew the moment they were in view that neither once was their target. She pulled her trigger, letting off a stream of bullets, sweeping, hearing Stephen do the same. Both targets flip flopped in the air, slamming back.
Stephen started forward before they hit the ground. Kristie followed. She tripped over an arm, almost falling on them. A gasp escaped her lips, as she took in the sightless eye's, the splattered blood on the wall, how it was pooling around them.
Two more hallways down, three more hostiles, and they were facing a PC. Stephen pulled a chair out, "Kristie."
She sat down, and started to pound the keys, talking to Gayle as she went, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky to everyone else as it did to her.
The download began - and within minutes, the team was retreating, with the target in tow. Stephen and Kristie reached the van first, and Stephen dragged her around the far side away from everyone's view.
Kristie braced herself on the side of the van, and tossed up what little food she'd eaten earlier. Stephen pulled a hanky from somewhere, and handed it to her.
"Take slow deep breaths," He told her.
"Why?" she said, gasping out, "I . . . the red cell . . ."
"Because this situation is totally different," Stephen told her, taking the cloth, and wiping at her face, "You did fine - most people puke mid mission, not at the end."
She managed as smile, and sighed, "Thank you."
Stephen grimaced, "Christ - just don't breath on me!"
He stuffed the hanky into her breast pocket, and walked to the back to climb in. Kristie followed him, and just as she was about to climb in, he handed her a water bottle. She cleaned out her mouth and spit, and climbed in. She heard Stephen talking to Operations.
"Target secured, download is complete, we're on the way back," Stephen said calmly, "No losses."
"Another successful mission," Kyle announced, sighing contentedly.
"Yeah," Kristie said softly, "Everyone comes back alive and well."
"Success is measured by whether or not we take our target, not by losses," Stephen corrected her.
Kristie looked over at him, "OK - but I still think it's cool that we're all alive - or is that not OK here?"
The van remained silent. No one commented. Kristie shook her head, and sipped at the water bottle. She just didn't get him. One minute, he's being nice, the next, he was a prick.
Alexandra almost dropped the picture she now held in her hand. So far, she'd seen hundred's of pictures that she'd taken. But they were all people, not realizing they were being photographed most of the time. Sometimes it was obvious they did. Scenery was depicted often - children in parks, people in parks. But they were nothing like the photograph she held in her hand now.
It was very definitely her. She had her shoulder bandaged, and she was totally nude, sitting astride Darren, her back to his chest. It was obvious that they were having sex. His hands were touching in very intimate places.
She heard something behind her, and she flipped the picture over. She twisted in her chair, to look and see who was behind her.
Darren stood in the doorway, clad in the black jumper Alexandra had learned was mission gear. His hair was pulled back into pony tail. His face was smeared with some kind of black dirt, and he was just pulling off his gloves.
Alexandra felt heat rush to her face, thinking that she definitely knew what most of him looked like under that black jumpsuit.
"What?" he asked her, "You're face is bright red - are you OK?"
His voice held concern.
"NO! YES! I mean - . . . I'm fine - you . . . startled me," she stammered.
One lip curved up in a smile, "OK . . . what are you doing? I've got 20 minutes before debrief."
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He walked around her chair, and pulled out the only other chair in the room and sat down.
"Nothing - just . . . looking at pictures," she said softly.
Darren looked at the picture that was flipped over in her lap, "Alex . . . tell me what's going on in you're head."
"You and I . . .we were friends?" she asked him.
Darren took a deep breath, "Yes . . . and something more, more often than not."
Her face seemed to flush even more, "Did anyone . . . take pictures of us?"
Darren felt his heart twist and shatter in a thousand pieces in his chest. She didn't remember anything. He knew that - he'd known it for the last 10 days . . . but somehow, it hurt even more, now that he was hearing it from her lips, that she didn't remember anything about them. It was all gone.
He managed a smile, "You put the camera on a tripod, and set the timer on it."
Darren gently took the pictures from her, and turned it so he could see it, "Christmas . . . early in the morning, on the 24th. I asked you if you'd ever consider photographing us - and you did that night - for me. I have these . . .you made a set for both of us - if anything ever happened we'd have . . ."
His voice trailed off, afraid to use the word.
"Something to remember it by," she said, her voice trembling.
Darren nodded, and slid off the chair, and down on his knee's in front of her. He grasped her hands in his, careful of her broken arm, "Hey - it's OK. We can make all new memories Alex. I can fill in a lot of blanks for you."
She squeezed her eye's shut, but the tears escaped.
Darren reached up, and brushed at the escaped tear that slid down her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"I . . . how can I remember languages - but not someone I . . . were we in love? Or did we just sleep with each other?"
"It was love," Darren told her, "is - I do . . ."
She sniffed, "I don't know how . . ."
He managed a smile, "I'll teach you - if you want . . . we've got time."
He glanced at his watch, "I gotta go debrief or I'm gonna get reamed. I'll find you in a little while, OK?"
She nodded, an he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, and left.
Alexandra took a few deep steadying breaths, and reached into the box, and found a series of photo's. They were like the one she and Darren had just been discussing, obviously taken that same night, in different positions. She couldn't help but think that they must have been very close. But she didn't remember any of it.
Nikita and Darren were sitting in Nikita's office. They'd been doing a search for information on Amnesia for the last three hours. What bothered them the most, was that she'd retained some skills, the knowledge of languages, she was familiar with her camera . . . but she didn't remember people, or events. All the research suggested that she should have lost everything, been reduced to a baby almost - or just lost a smaller period of time.
There was a knock on the door, and just as Nikita was about to call out for whomever to come in, the door opened. Madeline walked in.
Nikita and Darren both instantly felt like children caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
Madeline shut the door behind her, and sat down on the one remaining chair, "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Nikita sighed, "It doesn't make sense Madeline - why all of her memories - but not language, but not things like dexterity, how to use the camera - how to run the photography software?"
Madeline sighed, "She's lost everything associated with people."
"Not everything with people was a traumatic even though," Darren pointed out.
"Psychologically - she was pulling away from everyone, isolating herself - we saw signs of this before her accident. Her mind finished it," Madeline replied.
"So it could all come back then - right?" Nikita asked.
"Not unless someone were to put her through regression - which would probably destroy her," Madeline told them, "She would have found herself in abeyance in the next 6 months. I hope the two of you aren't considering helping her regain her memory. You would do more harm than good. The mind takes what measures it needs to, in order to survive."
"What if she were to remember, in a few months - or years? That could cripple her," Nikita pointed out.
"It would," Madeline agreed, "She's been given a unique gift. All the regrets, and fears are gone. I'm sure Darren knows exactly how heavily some of them weighed on her. In all the months you were sleeping with her, do you ever recall her not waking up with nightmares?"
Christ, what didn't she know . . .
"Never," Darren answered.
Madeline smiled, "She hasn't had one single nightmare that we are aware of since the accident. All the brain wave and medical data suggest that her Rem sleep has been relatively calm."
Madeline stood up to leave, but stopped before she walked out, "If you do care about what happens to her, you'll leave this alone."
Madeline left. Nikita and Darren were silent for a few moments.
"We were just threatened, weren't we," Darren said quietly.
"Yep," Nikita said, and she signed off the data search.
Continue on to Images of the past