Interum
By Kimberly
They looked essentially the same. The scale was different. Section Three was smaller. Section One was larger. They had essentially the same layout. Section three had some modifications in that it was designed to be ran by two to four people - and there were no offices for level 5 operatives - because it was level 5 operatives that ran it.
But as Nikita walked down the halls of Section one, towards her office - past Michael's office - she couldn't help but think that this place, Section One, had an aura of deceit to it . . . something inherently evil.
Was it in how they were staffed? Or how they were ran? Who ran them, or who they answered too . . . none of them were innocent - not anymore at least. Nikita had chaffed at the idea of carrying out this alternative life sentence - because she was innocent of the original crime.
But during her first few months here, she'd killed. More than once. In her first year, she'd felt the pleasure one could get from pulling the trigger on someone who deserved to die. Someone she thought deserved to die. Someone Section thought deserved to die - so did that make her a good fit, a good candidate for a lifetime Sentence in Section One?
Nikita had quit asking herself that question when she'd come back in from her six months of freedom. It had seemed pointless then - survival on the outside was hardly any kind of life. Maybe it was her 7 months away from Section One that made her reflect on her role in the scheme of things here now. Not many people would have taken he step down that she'd taken. She was still a Level 5 operative - but she answered to someone other than George now - her life was at a higher risk now . . . but it would be worth it, to be with the people she considered family - or so she hoped. The taste of leadership - the responsibilities involved turned out to be heavier burden than she ever would have guessed. Besides, her reason for breathing, living and going on, was here. Whether it be for hours, days, weeks, months, or years . . .
Her office still existed in the form of a few boxes, and a Spartan desk with PC terminal. She'd have no time to unpack. Michael's short stint of running Section One had been characterized with a need to catch up. With Section down for two weeks, they had current situations and a few older ones to take care of. Add to that the fact that they were down a couple Level 5 operatives, and she had some new and past material to familiarize her self with . . .
"You never lock your office," it's was Darren's voice, coming from the direction of the vinyl sofa. Nikita smiled at him. He was dressed in a snug cotton oxford, dark slacks, a thin gold chain around his neck, a gold hoop in his ear. Per usual, the goatee was neatly trimmed, and his hair hung loose.
Darren watched Nikita walk around, and sit down behind her desk. She had on a sheath shirt, and a snug stretchy sleeveless top, and high heeled shoes. A touch of makeup, and her hair neatly combed.
"In a place of highly trained intelligence operatives . . . what's the point?" Nikita asked him, typing in a few commands on her PC, checking her email, "What's on your mind Darren?"
Darren reached up and brushed his ear, looking directly at Nikita. It was a signal they'd developed months ago in Section Three, signaling the need to get around any surveillance . . .
Nikita typed in the commands into the scrambler, and Darren closed the door. He sat back down on the sofa, and ran his hand through his hair. He did that when he was agitated.
"Alex," Darren said, "She's a little too tense sometimes lately - other times she's got almost too much energy . . . and she's rather secretive sometimes . . . I wasn't seeing these things 7 months ago."
Nikita took a deep breath, "She's been under a lot of strain."
Darren sighed, "I heard all about the kind of missions she's been sent on Nikita. I want to strangle Madeline and Operations everytime I hear her refer to herself as the most dangerous whore in the country. I'm afraid she might be using something."
Nikita took a deep breath, "What does she say?"
Darren closed his eye's, "She denied it . . . I love her more than life itself Nikita - I know we are on borrowed time here . . . I don't want to see her end it herself - by over-dosing, or getting herself killed needlessly - or canceled."
"I can't force her into a test through medlab - without putting her at risk. Short of catching her yourself and convincing her not to use," Nikita told him, "But I'll keep my eye's open."
Darren nodded, "Would she be canceled?"
Nikita sighed, "Probably."
Darren stood up to leave, "Any sage words of advice Nikita?"
"Be careful," Nikita told him, "And I wouldn't trust anyone else with this."
Darren nodded, "Yeah."
He opened the door, and found himself face to face with Michael.
"Darren," Michael said, greeting him.
Black on black, Michael's usual attire. Darren knew the only time he saw Michael in colors was on a mission, or if he was bending over backwards to please Nikita.
"Michael," Darren said, stepping aside to let Michael enter, and he slipped out the door himself.
Michael glanced from Nikita to Darren's retreating back, his gaze questioning.
"What can I do for you Michael?" Nikita asked him.
"Birkhoff was never able to track how Carlos broke into the system," Michael said, in his calm, soft, French accented voice.
Nikita nodded, "So I heard."
"He might have had help from the inside," Michael walked around behind her desk, behind her, his fingers trailing up one bare arm. He pulled her hair back, and laid it over her other shoulder. He rubbed his thumbs up the back of her neck, his fingers massaging her shoulders.
Nikita let her head fall forward, and softly from her lips, "Hm . . ."
Michael continued on for a few moments.
"Do you have any suspects?" she asked him after a moment.
"No," Michael told her.
Nikita reached up and slid her fingers into his, "Operations will be back tomorrow?"
"Yes," Michael answered, still keeping up his methodically massage.
Nikita smiled, "I'll be up late then . . ."
Michael felt the corners of his mouth tug up in the semblance of a smile. He bent down, and pressed a warm, moist kiss to the back of her neck.
* * *
Kristie watched Alexandra wipe at her nose. Alexandra backed up, and held her hand up, signaling that their sparing match was over. As Kristie watched, the redhead pulled her hand back, her eye's widened in shock for a moment, then a frown marred her features.
A thin trickle of blood oozed out from her nose, and Alexandra wiped at it a second time, and looked around, her eye's scanning for something to clean herself up with.
"Alex?" Kristie said, "Are you OK?"
Kristie was already scanning the wall for the first aid kit mounted on it. All the gyms had one. She spotted it, and waved to Stephen. Stephen watched Kristie point to him, and the first aid kit, then Alex.
"It's just a little nose bleed," Alexandra said, "I'm fine - All the climate changes are playing hell on my sinuses."
Darren looked over, and saw Alexandra wipe at her nose, and come up with blood. He stopped the sparing match he was in, and walked over.
"Red?" He asked gently.
Stephen arrived with the first aid kit.
"Beating up the cold ops Kristie?" Stephen asked, teasing the two women.
"Oh she didn't do this," Alexandra told him, "Her control is fine - it's me - my sinuses are irritated - all the climate changes I guess."
Stephen accepted the excuse.
"Put the cold pack over your nose, it will make the vessels contract," He told her, handing her the cold pack, "Grab a piece of wall for a few minutes."
Darren watched Alexandra's face while she maneuvered to the wall. She met his gaze, then looked away. Right then and there, if he'd had any doubts before, now he knew for sure she was using something.
Darren walked back over to the recruit he was sparring with, and started up again. He'd talk to Alex about this later.
Kristie followed Alexandra over to the wall, and sat down next to her.
"So Michael must be happy that Nikita is back," Kristie started.
Alexandra glanced over at her, not sure she wanted to go where this was leading.
"Yeah, I'm sure he is . . . especially considering that we're running low on cold ops, and she's very good," Alexandra said, watching Kristie carefully as she spoke.
Kristie laughed, "Relax Alex - I'm not pining after him or anything. Michael and I talk - or we did - until Operations was out and he got so busy. I'd call Michael a friend - nothing more, nothing less."
Alexandra managed a smile, "I say that about Michael every now and then - until he's riding my ass about something. His intentions are good - I just don't always see that at the time though."
"He has that effect on people - it's the way he just stay's so calm - when we're ready to claw someone's eyes right out of their head," Kristie agreed with her.
Alexandra had to laugh, "You hit it right on the head. So . . . what do you think of your new trainer? I would call Stephen one prime piece of beefcake if I do say so myself."
Kristie chuckled, her gaze drifting over to where the topic of their conversation was working with someone.
"I think he's arrogant, a real ladies man, a flirt, but basically good natured - and too damn good looking for his own good - or anyone else's," Kristie commented, "And between you and me - I hope I get a chance to . . . tame him . . . sometime."
Alexandra laughed, "Kristie - be very very careful - but I do hope you get that chance."
* * *
Nikita walked across the main floor of Section One, nodding to Walter, and stopping by Birkhoff's comm station. Up above, she could see Michael standing next to Operations, who was sitting in a wheel chair. Operations had just come back to Section One. He would be on 'light duty' for two more weeks. Michael looked calm, but he always did. When he was rattled, he never let anyone see it - not in Section One at least - unless it suited his purpose.
She stopped just a few feet from Birkhoff.
"Hi Nikita," Birkhoff said, around a mouthful of Oreos.
Nikita smiled down at him, and helped herself to a cookie, "Birkhoff - The new system exactly the way you want it?"
He groaned, "No - but I'm getting there. I guess you're here for your SIM's, aren't you?"
She nodded, "Yeah, but I can wait 5 minutes if you're in the middle of something," she told him.
"Got them right here," He put disk in it's protective sleeve, "Glad to be back still? Or are you regretting it already?"
Nikita rolled her eye's, "It's the lesser of evils Birkhoff."
She took the disk, and went back to her office. Section a group of small time terrorists convinced to help them trap a larger arms dealer. In exchange for their assistance, the small time terrorists were going to receive cooperation - or so they thought. Nikita knew Section One would undoubtedly take them out eventually. But thus far, Section had been unable to trap these arms dealers on it's own.
Nikita loaded up the disk, and ran the SIM. There were three possible entrance points and exits into the City Center where the meet would take place. Also, two large buildings on either side of the courtyard, which provided a great vantage point for snipers - Section One's, or the arms dealers. The two buildings on either side of the courtyard were an office building, and a museum. Overall, a security nightmare.
Nikita used the SIM, and planned out to have two pairs of Operatives on all the entry and exit way points, two pairs inside the buildings, a pair on each roof, and two in the courtyard with their terrorist/contacts. That was a team of 26 Operatives though - a lot more than what they usually took out with them.
It would also require that the two teams in side the buildings have extensive tech support from Birkhoff, because they couldn't cover the whole building.
Nikita put together a team on paper, pulled the disk, and headed up to Operations observation deck. When she got there, they called her in immediately.
"Nikita," Operations said, "I was surprised to see you back in Section One."
Nikita thought to herself, 'I bet' . . .
"Circumstances being what they are . . . I have a SIM I want to go over with the two of you. It's for a mission I need to launch tomorrow morning - and I'm going to need a larger team than normal," Nikita explained.
She loaded up the SIM, "We have our Entrance and Exit points here - good sniper locations here and here - and then there are these two buildings . . . this whole location is a nightmare - but the arms dealers we're after only go to sites they pick - no negotiating at all. You can see where I plan to put Operatives - and when we have our targets within the confines, we close in. I need 26 Operatives. I've compiled a list - some of them are abeyance operatives. There's no way we can do this without losing some of our people, and we'll need to be in place 8 hours before showtime."
Michael's brained raced through all her checkpoints. She had everything very well covered. They couldn't afford any huge mistakes on this. When Michael had assigned the mission to Nikita, he did it knowing she'd be thorough. He also did it because he knew there would be casualties, and that she'd make the choice to lose a few operatives. Operations would see that she was accepting that. Operations - and anyone else watching, would also see that Michael was not protecting Nikita.
"And how are you going to bring in these arms dealers - with this kind of coverage, it looks more like you plan to wipe them out," Operations commented, watching Nikita's face.
She looked over at him, her gaze calm, direct, steady. Michael was proud.
"We'll be using Tranques," Nikita told him, "The Psych profile on this group tells us that they would rather die firing at us, than be brought in. Have you seen the Intel on this organization yet?"
"No," Operations admitted, "Michael was brining me up to speed on the last month when you arrived."
"They've sold arms to half of our hot listed terrorist organizations," Nikita told him, "Nine of them. This would be a huge win for us."
Operations was silent for a moment, the he looked at Michael, "Do you see anything that should be added?"
"No," Michael said calmly.
Opertions nodded slowly, his fatigue showing, "OK Nikita, you have your team. I want results."
* * *
"Dance lessons?" Kristie said, "Uh - excuse me but - why do I need dance lessons to be a good operative?"
Stephen smiled, enjoying the look of bewilderment on her face. He'd sent her a message, telling her to meet him in this room, at 4:00. The room had mirrors on all the walls, and a stereo with a wide range of CD's to choose from for music.
"There are times when you'll need to be able to dance - as part of your cover," Stephen told her, "With a target, another operative . . . dance is also a very effective way to seduce your target."
Kristie laughed, "Oh I've got ya there - I've never had trouble seducing men in my life Stephen!"
Stephen watched her walk to the center of the room, the slight sway to her hips, the smile on her face which was half invitation, half intimidation. Kristie knew the effect she had on him, and she used it. That made her dangerous - and damn near perfect for Section One.
"Not all men are going to fall all over themselves because you've got a nice body, and a pretty face, some of them need more encouragement," He told her, and loaded up the CD, "Lose the shoes."
A waltz started, and Kristie groaned out loud, kicking off her shoes, and walked towards the center of the room.
"No one dances to this now, do they?" she asked him.
"Yes, they do, and yes you will," He told her, "Now, you're going to hold your partner like this."
He slipped one arm around her waist, and slid hid fingers into her hand on the other side, holding her arm slightly out from their bodies.
"Shoulders back," he said gently, "Now, I want you to rest your toes on the top of my shoes, so you can feel which way I'm going to step . . ."
Kristie looked up at him, her gaze smoldering, the corners of her lips tugging up in a smile, "Do I get to call you daddy?"
Stephen laughed, "Not in this lesson you don't."
Stephen held her body close to his, stepping in time to the slow paced music. He looked down at her face, his breathing even. He spread his fingers out on her back, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Everything he did was done to stimulate.
He kept his voice quiet as he counted out the steps, all the while watching her face, looking for signs that he had any effect on her.
He watched her as she closed her eye's, breathing in the scent of him. Stephen smiled. It was working.
Kristie felt his breath, warm on her cheek, as she counted out the steps in her head, her body moving with his. He made it seem easy. Of course, it helped that he held her so close, and that she was all but standing on his toes. She took another deep breath, breathing in the heady scent of him.
Ah yes . . . she thought to herself, maybe dance lessons are not such a bad idea over all . . .
Nikita stood in the doorway, watching the two of them in the midst of what she knew was a dance lesson and a seduction in the works. The question was, who was seducing who here? She had time to wait though, so she stood there, and watched, until the music started to wind down. It was then that she knocked on the open door.
Krisite jumped suddenly, and it was a jump back away from Stephen, as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Stephen just looked up and over at her, a charming 'yeah you caught me' smile on his face.
"I hate to disturb your lesson," Nikita said, not hiding the smile in her voice, "But I wanted to talk to talk to you about using Kristie tomarrow. I understand she's pretty good with the electronic surveilance system - and I need two electronic techs for tomarrow's mission."
"Sure," Stephen said, "Who is running the mission? You or Michael?"
"I am," Nikita told him, "Briefing is at 5:30 tomarrow morning."
Kristies face was still flushed red, "Yeah - sure. I'll be there - with bells on."
Nikita fought herself to keep from laughing. Instead, she just smiled, and left.
* * *
Darren sighed, signing off the web. He'd been researching addiction for hours. There was a huge mission tomarrow. He'd planned on cornering Alex this evening. But he wanted to know what kind of withdrawal problems to expect. The last thing he wanted was for her to be unable to perform in the middle of an important mission. Especially since it would be hard to cover for her.
As near as he could tell, she was using once a day to every other day. He'd seen what she was like when she went a week without it. She was irritable, and tense, but she could perform. But he didn't know how much of the withdrawal had been covered by her wound - or the pain meds Michael had been giving her.
He picked up the phone, and thought about calling her, then stopped. If he called her, she was warned. He's surprise her instead.
Darren found himself watching her walk out to her car 15 minuts later. He'd follow her. She drove into the entertainment district, and parked in the lot, across the street from Devoe's. She got out, and walked across the street, and into the club. She was dressed in a short skirt and her thigh high boots, so Darren knew she was out for the evening. He parked, got out, and followed her into the club.
Staying lost in the crowd was easy. The crowd was alway's heavey at Devoe's. He watched from a dark corner as she took a seat at the bar, and ordered a drink. Scott, a bar tender that Darren remembered from the last time Darren was there, immediately walked over to her. He leaned on the bar, flirting with Alexandra. Alexandra flirted back, and drank her drink. She got up, danced for a few songs, and came back. A little while later, Scott slid another drink across the bar at her, after slipping something inside the napkin.
Alexandra drank her drink, and pocketed the napkin. Now, Darren knew where she was buying it at least. It was late when she left. Darren had spent the entire evening watching. He saw her go into the ladies room at one point, and when she came back out, from her body langage, Darren knew she was high. It was late in the evening - or early in the morning when she left. In three hours, they'd have to be in Section One. She was down from her high when she left the club - and Darren knew she wouldn't use on a mission - at least he hoped she wouldn't use on the mission. But he knew that by the time she got to Section, she'd have been down from the high for a couple hours. At least she'd be ok on the mission.
* * *
"Our primary targets are the arms dealers," Nikita told them, "The secondary targets is the small terrorist group that we are using to catch them. We want them alive - but they will fight us. You'll all be armed with more Tranques than we could possibly need. You'll need to get into your position 8 hours ahead of time. Those of you who are on the roof - you'll be waiting just inside the last door - until ten minutes before the targets should be entering the area. Birkhoff and Kristie will be providing electronic surveillance. No extra chatter. They may be monitoring for any audio activity."
She keyed up the next view of the courtyard, "Myself and Tom will be in the courtyard. Our targets will come in from here, here, or here," She indicated points on the electronic display, "Birkhoff will assign targets to each of you as they move in. Tranque your own target first, then anyone else left standing - with the exception of Myself and Tom. We cannot afford to fail on this mission. If we can take down this group of arms dealers, they can lead us to 9 terrorist organizations on our hotlist."
Nikita let the impact of what she'd just told them settle in for a minute, then, "OK, see Walter for your weapons and tranque's, we load up into the vans in 20 minutes."
Darren watched Alexandra closely as they walked over to Walter's station. She was tired, but she was OK. He was relieved.
"Late night last night?" Darren asked her, as they got their sniper riffles from Walter.
Alexandra looked over at him, "What?"
"I called your apartment last night, didn't get an answer," Darren commented, "You look tired is all."
Alexandra shrugged, "I was keyed up, I went out dancing - I'd have called, but you said you were bogged down in research for a project."
"No biggee," Darren told her, "Another night - at least you can sleep on the plane."
Alexandra nodded, "Oh yeah, believe me, I've been thinking about that since I got up this morning."
* * *
Michael stood next to Madeline. Operations was in his chair, his expression betraying how tired he was. Nikita's team had been in place for 8 hours. They were listening to operatives track the movements of the targets. Kristie picked up movement from the buildings back behind the buildings that Section One had occupied. The targets were putting their own sniper's on the building. Nikita ordered the roof snipers to stay hidden for a few moments, until Kristie could verify a final location. They could take the roof snipers when they took the targets in the courtyard. Nikita kept the two pairs of operatives on each egress point back until the targets had entered the courtyard. That was when she ordered them to move in to the secondary point - a place where they would not be seen, but in a moment could be out, and able to fire.
Birkhoff went through and quickly assigned targets. Nikita gave the order to take them out.
The sounds of gunfire followed a second later. Screams and cries were heard. More than one vulgar oath in various languages. In a manner of 3 minutes, it was over.
They listened to Nikita order the van in, and ordered the operatives to announce their location and status. A few moments later, they heard Nikita tell Birkhoff to get Operations on a channel for her, and have the medics standing by at air transport.
"Go ahead Nikita," Operations said, once Birkhoff told her they were monitoring.
"Targets are secured - we have 6 casualties, 7 injuries," Nikita told him, "We're enroute now."
Michael had heard 5 people call in injuries when she asked for it, that meant that she - and probably Tom, had been injured. He kept his calm emotionless mask on. Nikita was still talking, she was still in control, so she'd be OK . . . or so Michael hoped.
* * *
Kristie was almost panicked beyond reason by the time they all got back to the plane. All the blood! She helped secure the unconscious targets, then helped the medical team with the wounded. Two of the medical team were frantically working on one of the operatives - and after a few minutes, Kristie saw them sit back, and give up, and ask someone to help them move the operative in back.
Darren was tying up a tourniquet as tight as he could, the operative he was doing this too finally passed out, and Darren looked relieved. Alexandra was trying to clean up Nikita's wound in her thigh, and Nikita had her head thrown back, her teeth gritted tightly. Kristie looked around for someone else to help. Everyone who was wounded had someone bandaging them up at the moment. She started to gather up the debris from bandage wrappers, just to keep busy.
Nikita gasped and groaned loudly, drawing her attention.
"What are you doing to her Alex? Trying to pull out her bones?" Darren asked, looking over.
Kristie watched as Alexandra looked at him. She had blood on her face, her hands, her jumper, "No, I had to get the bullet - she's really bleeding - think you can come help me here?"
In other words, I need you to help me tie off a tourniquet . . .
"Nikita, do you want some pain med's?" Kristie asked her.
The medical tech handed Kristie a jar of pills before Nikita even answered. Nikita nodded her head, and held out one bloodied hand. Kristie grimaced, "I uh . . ."
"Just drop them in her mouth," Darren told Kristie - and get some bottles of water - you might want to make the rounds with those too. Tell one of the med techs that they might want to hang a bag of saline on Nikita. She's still losing blood here."
Kristie nodded, and did exactly what Darren told her. When she was done, she realized she'd gone through half the pills in the jar. One of the medical techs was just hooking up the IV line.
"I hope I didn't overdose anyone," Kristie told the medical tech - I went by the weight chart on the jar."
The tech shrugged, "If they die, it won't be from on overdose."
Kristie managed a tight smile, and went back over to where Alexandra and Darren were sitting next to Nikita. They were cleaning themselves up as best they could with some cloths. But there was just so much blood . . .
Nikita was awake, and watching them. She looked over at Kristie, and smiled at her.
"You did a good job out there tonight," Nikita told her.
Kristie smiled at her, "Thanks," She said. But she felt numb. She kept looking around the plane. People were laying on the floor, not sitting in the chairs. There was just so much blood . . .
Michael was awake when the transport arrived back. Operations had disappeared to rest for a while. He certainly needed the rest more than Michael. Michael would not have been able to sleep anyhow. The doors were flung open, and Med Lab staff flooded the hallway. It was a sea of bodies for a few moments. Michael saw Nikita on one of the gurneys. She was awake, and she gestured for Darren and Alexandra to go to Michael. They left her side, but reluctantly. Kristie was the last out of the van, and she looked pale. Michael knew she was shocked at what she was seeing.
"What happened?" Michael asked as Alexandra and Darren approached.
They were both covered in dried blood. It was smeared on their faces, their cloths, their hands. They both opened their mouths to answer. Alexandra shook her head, and gestured for Darren to speak first.
"Just like Nikita reported to you. We lost some people because our targets weren't using Tranques. Adam's died on the transport - everyone else has wounds, some minor, some are serious. Nikita was bleeding a little more than anyone was comfortable with - that's why she's got the tourniquet and the IV bag," Darren told him, "But the good news is, we have about 7 very sedated targets being unloaded from the van."
Just then, a few of the targets were being wheeled out of the van in gurneys.
"How did Kristie do?" Michael asked.
Alexandra glared up at him, then made a show of looking down the hall at Nikita.
"She's fine," Alexandra said sharply, "A little shell shocked - she helped us try to keep Nikita from bleeding to death."
Alexandra turned on her heal and walked away, towards med lab.
Darren sighed, and watched her go, opening his mouth to say something, then stopped.
"One of these day's Michael, I'm gonna figure out exactly what it is about you that rubs Alex the wrong way," Darren sighed, "Do you want us in debrief now?"
"Yes," Michael said calmly, his eye's looking past Darren.
Darren turned to look. Stephen had appeared, and he was standing next to Kristie, a hand on her shoulder as the Strawberry blonde excitedly told him all that she had heard, how shocked she was at all the injuries, and all the blood.
"So what's the deal with this Stephen guy?" Darren asked Michael.
"Nothing," Michael told him, "Debrief in five minutes."
Michael went down the hall to med lab. He walked past Alexandra into the medlab room where they were working on Nikita.
"How did it go?" Michael asked her, all business.
But when Nikita looked up at him, she knew it was more than business. His eye's were asking 'How bad are you? I wish I'd been there to protect you, to help you!'
"No surprises, they fought back - we expected it," she told him.
The medical tech left to get something, and Nikita gestured for Michael to come closer. He stepped in closer, and leaned forward.
"Kristie is probably really freaked out right now," Nikita told him, "All the blood got to her. You might want to go check on her."
"Stephen is with her," Michael said, his voice telling Nikita volumes.
Nikita bit her lip, "Oh. She did really well when we were in play. On the plane, she kept her head together. I was impressed."
Michael nodded, "I need to go to debrief."
He slipped his fingers into hers, ignoring the caked blood, and gave her hand a squeeze. Nikita smiled up at him, squeezing his hand back.
Michael walked out of Med lab, ignoring the glare that Alexandra sent his way. The tightness in his chest had started to ease. He'd known all along how dangerous this mission was. He'd handed it to Nikita because she could do it, and because he knew they were being watched. Protecting her now could have serious consequences. But the knowledge that he was strategically doing the correct thing didn't comfort him when he was praying to a god he once thought he didn't believe in that she'd come back alive.
* * *
"Alex," Darren called out to her, as she walked out of the women's locker room. Her hair was still wet. Like him, she'd scrubbed off, changed into clean cloths, intent on going home as soon as possible.
"Hey," she said in greeting, her eye's sorrowful, strained. It made Darren's heart ache.
"I was wondering if you'd like some company tonight," Darren asked her, "Maybe someone to curl up against."
She managed a smile, "Actually . . . yeah, I would. Gonna follow me home?"
He nodded, "I'll see you there."
He closed the door behind them, and pulled his coat off, but kept it with him as he followed her into her bedroom. He had two silk scarves in his pocket, that he had plans for. She slipped into his arms without any hesitation, dropping her bag on the floor next to the bed.
Darren pushed her back to sit on the side of the bed, tugging her T-shirt from her jeans, and pulling it up and off of her, revealing bare flesh. Alexandra had quit wearing a bra, sometime during the time that Darren had been gone. In fact, the only time she did wear one, was during work outs, or when it would be completely crude not too. Not that it bothered Darren. The occasional bounce and jiggle of breast and nipples against the fabric of her shirts and blouses was rather nice to see.
He dropped to his knees, kissing her hungrily on the mouth. Alexandra kissed him back, her fingers sliding into his hair. Darren's mouth slowly moved down to her neck, then down between her breasts. He moved to one side, teasing one nipple with his lips and tongue, his fingers stroking and tweaking the other one. He felt his own desire continue to build inside him with each soft moan and gasp from her lips. It only got worse when she pulled his shirt from his jeans, and she started to run her fingers along his stomach and chest.
Alexandra felt raw heat and desire start to burn in side her as Darren touched her. Satisfaction started to mix with that when she felt his stomach muscles jump under her touch. She dragged his shirt back from his shoulders, careful to not disturb him, lest he stop the sweet torment his mouth was creating.
He started to work his way down her stomach, and he yanked her jeans open, and dragged them down and off with her panties abruptly, pushing her back farther onto the bed. He felt the blood begin to rush and pound in his ears - and elsewhere as he pressed his thumbs to the insides of her thighs, and his tongue delved into her navel, and flicked over the ring once. Then, he moved his mouth to the inside of her thigh kissing her there, then the other thigh, his mustache and goatee brushing across her labia as he switched from thigh to thigh. Alexandra felt like she was going to go insane with the pleasure of it. She moaned, gasping his name. He parted her with his tongue, tasting her. Darren loved the way she tasted. Carefully he stroked with his tongue, finding her sensitive bud by touch, driving her to the brink of madness and then pushing her over it.
He raised up, and kissed her mouth while her body spasmed in it's first orgasm, and reached for his coat. He pulled out a condom, and pulled off the rest of his cloths. Before she had a chance to relax, he was pulling her to the center of the bed, both silk scarves in his hands.
"What are you going to do with those?" She asked him, watching him as he knelt between her parted legs.
Darren gently took one wrist, and tied the scarf around it. He didn't answer her at first. He lifted her wrist back to the headboard, and started to tie her to the headboard.
"What do you think?" He asked her gently.
She didn't fight him though. Which was good. Because kinky sex wasn't the only thing he had in mind for the scarves.
She let him tie her other wrist to the head board as well.
" You do realize," she said, as he moved back down, between her thighs, "I can't do anything to please you, other than lay here . . ."
"Hm," Darren said, his lips brushing hers, "Then just lay there, and enjoy it."
He started to kiss her, while he eased himself inside her hot, wet sheath. She moaned into his mouth, and Darren chuckled. His thrusts were gentle and measured, designed to bring her pleasure, but not scare her. He knew he was taking quite a risk, considering her past. He knew she was going to be really pissed when he was done tonight too. Pissed enough to throw him out, if she physically could, but she wouldn't be able to.
He felt her body start to climax around him, and let his own orgasm come, still they kissed throughout the entire thing. When their bodies finally started to relax, Darren sat back, got up from the bed.
Alexandra watched him walk into the bathroom, and he came back out a moment later.
"Are you going to untie me?" she asked him, tugging at the scarves.
Darren sighed, "NO, not yet."
He picked up her bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked gently, though Darren could tell she wasn't so calm anymore.
Darren looked at her, "You want to tell me why you're so high strung lately Alex?"
She looked at him, but didn't answer.
"You are making a mountain out of a mole hill - I've been under a lot of stress," she replied, "This isn't funny Darren. Untie Now, before I rip these things apart."
Darren sighed, "You are welcome to try."
He dumped out her bag on the end of the bed.
Alexandra yanked hard on the scarves, tried to twist around to untie herself. But she couldn't reach any of the knots. He'd thought of that.
"Damnit Darren!" She snapped, "Untie me now! You can't do this to me!"
Darren pushed everything around on the bed, and found nothing that he'd expect to find. Her wallet didn't reveal anything either. He looked at the bag.
"Where is it?" he demanded.
"GOD DAMN YOU!" she screamed at him, "UNFUCKING TIE ME NOW!"
Darren sighed, and looked at the bag.
"DARREN STOP!" Alexandra yelled.
The lining was ripped on the inside, at the zipper pouch he'd emptied a moment before.
"I'M WARNING YOU! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" She yelled again.
Darren puckered it open, turning it do the light shined into it.
"DARREN! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW! DAMN YOU!!!" she screamed at him.
Darren saw the light hit . . . something. He pushed on the fabric, and felt something, he puckered the opening a little more, and saw the edge of a plastic packet. Darren carefully reached in, and pulled it out.
He dangled the packet in the air, and looked at Alexandra. She'd opened her mouth to scream at him again, but whatever she'd planned to say, died in her throat.
"You were telling me that you weren't using anything," Darren said calmly.
He walked into the bathroom, and she heard the sound of a flushing toilet.
When Darren walked back into the bedroom, she looked deflated.
"Are you just going to leave me here, like this?" she asked him. She sounded crushed, deflated, defeated.
Darren sighed, "I should. I should let you destroy what life we have left if you want to. But I'm selfish. I want you around, I want you healthy for as long as we have . . ."
She sighed, "It won't matter now - Section is undoubtedly monitoring this . . ."
Darren moved over her, and she cringed.
Darren had been reaching up to untie her wrists, "Relax - I'm going to untie you - I'm not going to hurt you Alex - I'm pissed, but I'm not going to abuse you now."
She remained stiff, and Darren finished untying her, and gathered her into his arms. Her body was still stiff, and he started to rub her back.
"I knew something was going in when we were in Seattle," he told her, "I didn't want to admit it, but I knew then."
He felt her arms start to slip around his back.
"Tell me how this happened baby," Darren urged her gently, "Let me help you."
He heard her take a deep breath, and she sobbed into his shoulder, beginning what would be a long night of many tears.
It was mid way through the next day when Darren found himself walking into Michael's office. He'd already spoken with Nikita. She didn't have the codes to pull surveillance and erase it. But Michael did. So Darren walked slowly down the hall with Nikita hopping along on crutches next to him.
Michael looked up. If he was surprise to see them both, he didn't show it.
Nikita rubbed her ear, telling Michael they needed privacy. Michael keyed in the codes to the scrambler.
"I need you to erase surveillance on Alexandra's apartment, for last night," Darren said to him calmly.
Michael looked from Darren to Nikita, then back to Darren, "Why?"
Darren took a deep breath, "I've suspected for a while that Alex was using some kind of drug. I found it last night. We had a long discussion about it - she is quitting - but I don't want the conversation to come back to haunt us."
Michael looked at Nikita, "Did you know about this?"
"He came to me a few days ago with concerns," Nikita told him, "We agreed to find out, before we acted."
Michael sighed, and started to type on the key board, "How bad is it?"
"Michael," Darren said, "Please - don't look - we weren't dressed."
Michael shot him a withering glance, "How bad?"
"She is using it daily since Seattle," Darren told him, "Every couple of days before that. She was in withdrawals when you came to Seattle."
"Merde!" Michael swore, "Where is she now?"
"Sleeping," Darren told him, "She'd just dozed off about an hour ago."
"I'm going to go over there, and stay with her for a few hours, while Darren goes and has a chat with the man who's been selling it to her," Nikita told him, "I know this is asking a lot Michael - but can we erase the whole recording?"
Michael finished typing, "It's done. She takes a weekly test for the next six months - outside of Section."
Michael stood up, and grabbed his coat.
"Where are you going?" Nikita asked him, as he walked around to stand in front of her.
Michael cupped her cheeks, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, despite the fact that Darren was there.
"I'm going with Darren," Michael told her, "Can you drive? Or do you need a ride?"
"I can drive," Nikita told him, "Be . . . be careful."
Michael nodded, and he and Darren strode down the hall.
Kristie stepped into the hallways, and was about to say hello to the two men who were walking by. They both looked calm, but something about them seemed so . . . violent.
She smiled as they walked by, and both of them nodded at her, but didn't slow their pace. She wondered who the unfortunate soul was that had caused that.
Michael and Darren crossed the street, and found the front door of Devoe's locked. Scott's car was across the street though, so they knew he was there. Without speaking they walked around to the back of the club, and started trying doors. They were all locked.
Michael pulled out his gun, and screwed the silencer on. He aimed, and blew apart the lock. Darren pushed the door open.
They walked through the back store room, and across the empty dance floor.
Scott was standing behind the bar, looking surprised to see anyone there.
"We're not open for two more hours," Scott started, peering at them in the dim lighting.
Darren and Michael didn't answer at first. Darren waited until he got to the side of the bar. Michael stood in the middle of it, in case Scott decided to leap over it.
"Scott, do you remember me?" Darren asked, stepping into the light.
Scott looked at him, "Well I'll be damned! Darren! How have you been?"
Darren sighed, "Pretty good actually, at least I was. Then I came back, and found out my girlfriend is addicted to cocaine - cocaine that you gave her."
Scott started to back up, "Now wait just a minute here - I didn't force her to take it -"
"No," Darren said, "Of course you didn't. Drug dealers never do."
Darren stepped through the swinging door, advancing on him. Scott turned and bolted, and started to climb over the bar.
Michael had been waiting for that. He grabbed Scott by the collar, and dragged him the rest of the way over, and slammed him, face first into the floor, and held him there. Darren came back out from behind the bar, and dropped to one knee, which he rested on Scott's neck.
"I'll search the bar," Michael said calmly, getting up.
Darren watched Michael for a few minutes. Michael started to search underneath in the cabinets.
"Find anything yet?" Darren asked, looking over to Michael.
"Not yet, but I will," Michael said, started to search behind the bar, "Why don't you make this easy, tell me where it is."
"Fuck you," Scott swore.
Darren moved his knee down into the middle of Scott's back, and grabbed his hair, yanking his head, up, "I don't think I heard you correctly."
"FUCK YOU!" Scott spat out.
Darren slammed his face down into the floor, not hard enough to kill him or knock him unconscious, but hard enough to really hurt.
"Michael," Darren said, looking over at him, "I'm thirsty. Throw me a bottled beer."
Michael opened up one of the fridge's, and pulled out two beers. He tossed one to Darren, and opened on for himself..
Darren opened his, and took a big gulp, "Ah yes, damn good. Nothing like beer and a good ass kicking!"
"Come on Scott, My friend and I are getting tired of looking," Darren said, still leaning his knee into Scott's back.
"Go fuck yourself," Scott spat out, "Better yet - go fuck Alex. She's great - I know -"
Michael stopped his search, and looked over at Scott and Darren.
Darren smashed Scott's head into floor again, and asked, "What was that?"
"I said she was great!" Scott hissed.
Darren smashed his face into the floor again
Michael spoke up then, "She has money and better opportunities - she wouldn't fuck him."
"Where's the cocaine?" Darren asked him Scott, his voice had a dangerous edge to it.
"She liked it hard!" Scott spat out.
Darren smashed his head into the floor again.
Michael reached into the fridge, and pulled out a metal bin, and dumped the lemons on the counter. Fifty packets of white powder scattered on the counter.
"It's here," Michael said calmly
Darren lifted Scott's head, "How much?"
"I did her every god damn day!"
Darren smashed his head into the floor again, "If you were fucking her, what color is the tattoo?"
Michael looked over at Darren. Alexandra had a tattoo now?
"She liked it sucked!"
Darren smashed his head into the floor, "Wrong answer! She doesn't have a tattoo!"
Michael walked out from behind the bar, and stopped in front of Scott.
"Who is your supplier?" Michael asked, sqatting down in front of Scott. Michael watched Scott's bloodied face sneer at him as Michael took another big gulp off of his beer.
"Fuck you, your friend here, and Alex!" Scott spat out at him.
Michael sighed, and chugged his beer. Then he held the empty bottle in front of Scott's face, and violently slammed it down onto the floor, breaking it into hundreds of small pieces
"Expose his throat," Michael ordered.
Darren yanked Scott's head back at a painful angle, "He asked you a question."
"Fuck you both!" Scott swore.
Michael pressed the broken glass to Scott's throat, and started to cut into him, then stopped as Scott started to scream.
"Want to reconsider?" Michael asked him, "Who is supplying you?"
Scott spilled forth a couple names. Michael then asked him where the shipments come in. Darren listened while Michael gathered a little more information, and then stood up.
Darren let go of Scott, and Scott scrambled to his feat. But it only lasted for a moment. Darren grabbed Scott by the collar, and slammed his fist into Scott's face. Then his stomach, and again, and again. He stopped when Scott was writhing on the floor, unable to get up.
Michael had made a phone call to a friend of his in the DEA.
"We need to hold this guy for another ten minutes," Michael said, "Want another beer?"
"Nope," Darren said, and gulped down the last of the bottle he'd been drinking.
They were quiet for a moment, waiting for Michael's friend, watching Scott pant on the floor.
"Can I ask why you're helping me?" Darren asked Michael after a few minutes of silence.
"I like Alex," Michael said quietly.
A few moments later, a man in his mid 30's walked in. He had shoulder length blonde hair, a mustache and goatee. He had a few other men with them.
"Michael," He said, "Long time no see. I understand you drummed up something for me."
Michael looked over at Scott, "He has all the information you need. He hurt a friend of mine."
"I understand," the man told him.
Darren and Michael walked out the entrance they walked in.
Continue on to Regrets