The Morning After
By: Kimberly
Nikita stood in Alexandra's apartment, in the living room. At the last minute, she'd decided to pay the redhead a visit - mostly because she wasn't ready to face an empty apartment - or a not so empty apartment. She knew Alexandra had taken on the photography hobby. But what she saw took her by surprise.
There were photographs everywhere. Walls were covered with them. There was a pile on the coffee table that Alexandra had been sifting through as well, and a locked strong box, that was now open.
"What are these?" Nikita asked her, "Negatives?"
"Yeah - the ones I wouldn't want to lose. I had them very well hidden, otherwise Argassi would have found them."
"I managed to get the photo's they took," Nikita told her, pulling an envelope out of her coat, and handing them to the redhead, "Were you stalking him?"
"You could look at it that way," Alexandra said softly, "These were taken months ago . . . I just followed him the one day . . . It's not like I'm sitting outside his window every night."
"Then you're doing better than I am," Nikita told her, walking over to the wall, and looking at the other photographs. They were all people shots, scenery shots. Each one captured something . . .
Alexandra picked up her camera and called softly, "Nikita."
Nikita turned to look, and Alexandra snapped the picture.
"That was the last frame - now I can develop this roll," Alexandra told her, setting the camera down, "Want something to drink, coffee, coke, hot buttered rum?"
"Hot buttered rum sounds really good right now actually," Nikita said, shrugging out of her coat.
Alexandra mixed two of the drinks, and handed one to Nikita. She lead the way into her home made dark room, closed the door, and switched the lights.
Nikita watched as Alexandra pulled the film out, and went through the steps to develop the film. Alexandra started the picture she'd taken of Nikita right away. It was several minutes before Nikita could recognize herself. Her coat hung open, a few strands of hair had come loose from the loosely arranged twist Nikita had put her hair into, a chop stock impaled through the bun to secure it. The strand of hair curled up Nikita's chin. Nikita's expression was calm, serene, the corner of one mouth pulled up as if she was almost going to smile. It was a beautiful shot.
"How do you know when to take a picture?" Nikita asked her.
"I don't - I wait, I watch, until something catches my eye, I take a lot of shots, If I get one out of 5 that are really good, I'm happy . . . You're an easy model - you have an expressive face . . . Michael would love this one."
"If I was feeling ornery, I'd have nudes done - and send them to Michael - he'd go insane - but that would be just too mean right now."
Alexandra laughed, "And he'd want to know who took them of course - doesn't he paint?"
Nikita nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. She'd envisioned setting up a studio for him, in the second bedroom.
"Yeah," Nikita said softly.
Alexandra was going to ask if he'd ever painted her, but something in her voice told her not to.
Alexandra did two three of them, and hung them up to dry.
Nikita watched as Alexandra went through the other negatives, she started to work on one, lightening it up a little.
"What is this, a graveyard?" Nikita asked her.
The picture showed a figure standing alone, among raised tomb stones, varying in shape and size. There was a tree, barren of leaves, now only resembling a skeleton, and fog was resting low on the ground, obscuring the figures feet, the bases of the graves, giving it an eerie look to it.
"Yeah," Alexandra told her, "I took it around 9:00 at night. It's near that church, beyond the park, on the hill. The shot took a while - it's a slow exposure, because of the light, or lack there-of."
Nikita was about to ask who would go to a graveyard at night, but held her tongue. Alexandra obviously had been there - and Nikita couldn't see her way clear of questioning someone else's habits - considering the life style she now maintained.
"Do you ever do color photography?" Nikita asked her.
"No," Alexandra said, "It's . . . not the same - the black and white captures something that color doesn't."
"You could do this on a PC . . . but it probably wouldn't be as sharp," Nikita commented.
"Oh it can be - this is just . . . I'm used to doing it this way - I'm still learning how to use the PC system."
Nikita looked closely at the photograph of the graveyard. There was a certain loneliness, regret, conveyed in it, something dark and foreboding.
"Could I talk you into doing some pictures for my office?" Nikita asked her.
Alexandra looked over at her, "Yeah - if you like - It's easy to reproduce the ones I have - and if you tell me that you want shots of something else, I can do that too."
" I want this graveyard," Nikita told her, "And . . .
Alexandra stepped back into the shadow's created by the steel catwalks, and watched Darren limp across the main floor, towards Walter's station. He was going insane with boredom. So he spent a lot of time helping Walter by cleaning guns. For Walter, that was great. It freed up his time to work on his pet projects, and there was always something going. Some of them were sanctioned by Section, and some of them weren't.
"Well, you're face is starting to look about the same shape as before," Walter teased him, "Too bad they didn't cut off your hair."
Darren humphed, "You should talk . . . Madeline won't let me cut it - a few other people like it long - not that they seem to give a shit lately."
Walter looked up at him, "We're gonna have this conversation again huh?"
"Nothing to discuss," Darren said, disassembling the first gun, "Operations gave an order - and now we can't even be friends."
"Kid," Walter said, "It's damn near impossible to be friends with someone you'd rather have as your lover. Every time you're alone, you'll both be remembering the last time you made love."
"I don't think it's just Operations orders, that is keeping her so far away," Darren told him quietly, "Things have been off, since the mission with Anna started. Even when we worked out our differences afterwards, things were off - it's like she keeps me at arms length - even when I wasn't that far away . . . and then I see Jonathan with her, and I just go insane with jealousy."
"Jonathan," Walter said, looking up and around, "I don't get him. She's not interested, it's like he doesn't get the hint - and sometimes, you should see the way he watches you."
Darren almost dropped the part he was cleaning, "No way."
Walter nodded, "I call it like I see it. He looks at men and women the same way - and you catch his attention often. He's probably lurking around somewhere watching now."
Walter had lowered his voice furtively, and grimaced for affect
Darren looked at Walter, "What are you freaked out about - being watched - or that he's probably bi sexual?"
Walter sighed, "Kid - it's not like I'm the most traditional guy in Section - but some things just were not meant to be."
Darren groaned, "Walter - have you ever seen a porno with two women together in it?"
Walter grinned, "I got this one -"
"Exactly - so why is it that two women together, turns most men on, but two guys together is not OK?"
"Because their men!" Walter said, "Hey - I'm OK with gay men - it's just not my thing - and I think that if they know you're straight - they ought to leave you alone."
"How is one gay or bi sexual man supposed to know if another man is gay or bi-sexual, unless he asks? It's not like we've all got signs on our backs, 'I'm straight' or 'I'm gay' . . . I mean, if you ask my preferences, I like women, all kinds of women, and I've yet to meet a guy that made my blood boil - but I had this buddy - he just liked both men and women - and he was an OK guy," Darren told him.
"OK," Walter said, "So you're working out in the gym, wearing those tight spandex shorts, 'cause you know Alex can't help but look - and then you see Jonathan looking - really looking - suppose he makes a suggestion."
"I tell him I'm straight," Darren told him, "Hey, look at it this way - unless you go crying to him with a problem, he'll probably leave you alone."
Walter curled his lip, "The first time a gay man makes a move on you kid, I want to be there to watch."
Michael saw Nikita standing over Gayle at the comm station. It wasn't an unusual thing really - except that Nikita didn't have a mission that she was leading herself on-line right now. And Michael could see the headset she wore.
He walked over, his expression asking her what was going on.
She had her transmitter muted, "Max is leading this mission - and the only other one he lead was when he was sent with a team to bring you and I back in. He told me he was almost too nervous to perform. I'm just monitoring to step in if necessary."
Michael smiled a little bit. Nikita had found a solution to a sticky situation. Max had the opportunity to lead, without the interference of everyone knowing Nikita was there. The team would turn to him, not to her - and if it fell apart . . .
"I imagine you did this a lot with my first missions," Nikita said, smiling at him.
Michael shook his head, "Never."
She raised an eyebrow.
"When you started to lead missions, we were short staffed - I didn't have the chance - and you were more than ready months prior," Michael told her, "I don't know if Max is yet though."
Nikita sighed, "For the most part. He's got a good team though too. What he lacks is confidence - more so than I did - do sometimes still. But he'll get it this way faster than any other way."
Nikita handed him a head set, inviting him to listen in.
Alexandra had her back flattened against the wall of the cabinet, gun in had, and fought to control her breathing. Birkhoff had just told her that she had four hostiles coming her way. Her back up was on the way, but they probably wouldn't get to her before the hostiles did. Birkhoff was still downloading the file system. If they got to the computer before the download was done, they'd lose what they came after. The data was too important.
She'd already set the monitor down in front of the actual computer box, hoping to slow down any stray bullets. Max was on his way to help her, the rest of the team was starting to pull back and out.
"Almost there Alex," Max said.
"Alex, they're in your hall," Birkhoff warned.
Alexandra had her gun trained on the door. She saw it start to move, and lined up her sites. If she got the first one in the door frame, it would slow down the others . . . .
Michael felt his own pulse quicken. He knew Nikita's was racing right now. Had she been there, she'd have been the one charging to the rescue. One of the hardest parts of her job was when she couldn't do that - like now.
They listened intently to sounds of gunfire. Michael saw Nikita close her eye's, her jaw clenched.
The first hostile appeared in the door, and she fired, hitting him in the head, the .45 slug sending him back into his companions. Bullets started to rip through the walls and the door way. She ducked back behind the side of the cabinet. Trying to stay out of harms way.
"Max, where are you? I don't want to shoot you blindly instead!" Alexandra gasped into her headset.
"On the stairs, trying to take them out, southeast of your position," Max barked back at her.
Alexandra opened fire through the wall, placing the shots low. If they were standing they'd be gut shots. If they were crouching, they'd be head shots.
" Can you see how many are left standing?" Alexandra asked.
Max answered, " Two of them, barricaded, you're cut off - I can rush them."
"Then we both end up dead," Alexandra said, looking around the room again, hoping an exit would materialize.
Her only other exit was the window. She was on the third floor though.
"I'll go out the window," Alexandra told him.
"Give me ten more seconds," Birkhoff said.
Max ordered three operatives to her side of the building to cover her escape.
Alexandra returned fire where she though the newer bullet holes were appearing.
"Time Birkhoff?" Alexandra asked.
"Wait . . . now! go!" Birkhoff told her.
Alexandra leaped out from the filing cabinet, running for he window. She saw movement and twisted, firing at the hostile coming through the door. He was slammed back into the other hostile, but the other hostile managed to get off two more shots. Alexandra felt the bullet enter her thigh, feeling like someone was shoving a hot poker through her. She yelped, and threw herself for the window, and knew immediately that she was had over-shot the bushes. It was a tree she was flying towards, but one that wouldn't hold her.
She grabbed at the branches, hoping to slow her fall, succeeded in slowing down how fast she slammed into the trunk of the tree, which she seemed to bounce back off of to be thrown to the ground. What air hadn't been slammed out of her lungs when she hit the trunk left her when she hit the ground.
She was aware of two sets of hands grabbing for her, and someone threw her over their shoulder, and running with her. She prayed it was someone from Section One.
"We got her," one of the operatives said.
A moment later, they heard Max's voice telling the driver to go. Max told Birkhoff to notify section that they were on the way back, and that they had one severe casualty.
Nikita set her headset down on the counter, and looked at Michael, "I can't think of anything I'd have done differently - considering how many operatives they had and what little information we had."
Michael nodded, and said quietly, "Let me know, when you hear how Alex is."
Max leaned over Regi, who was doing a thorough search of Alexandra, looking for injuries.
"What's broken?" Max asked.
"What isn't," Regi snapped, "Christ . . ."
Alexandra moaned, " Stop, just . . . get me some morphine or something . . ."
Max and Regi fumbled with the first aid kit, searching for the dissolving morphine tablets, "How many do you want?"
"All of them," Alexandra gasped, trying to smile, so they'd know she was joking.
Max groaned, "Shit! shit! shit! OK, weight table, how much do you weigh?"
"190 pounds," Alexandra groaned.
"Bullshit-!"
"Max, give me 190 pounds worth of god damn pills!" Alexandra snapped at him, "How much do you think 5'10 of bones and muscle weighs!"
Max got the requisite number of pills and held them over her lips. She opened them, and he dropped the pills in.
"I need to open up pants and top," Regi told her, "I'll try to be gentle."
Alexandra gritted her teeth as Regi looked for injuries and bleeding. A small twig had impaled itself in her arm somehow, she had a few broken ribs, her collar bone was broken, one wrist was definitely broken.
"I think your legs are OK," Regi told her, " The bones - but you had a chunk taken out of your thigh here."
Alexandra opened her eyes, looking up at her, "Actually, I get compliments on my legs all the time . . ."
Max and Regi both laughed a little, Alexandra could hear the rest of the van's occupants snicker little bit.
"Nothing like a woman with strong leg muscles - or so I'm told," Alexandra added.
"I wouldn't know," Regi said quietly, zipping her suit back up, "Of course, It's only been what . . . 9 years since I've been with a woman. Now guys with strong leg muscles . . ."
Alexandra managed a smile, "Well, broken arm and collar bone, guess that means I'll have to be on top for a while . . . know any guys who like to be on bottom Regi?"
"I'll take a census," Regi told her, "Can you follow my finger?"
"Depends on where you're gonna put it," Alexandra joked with him, but she tracked it with her eye's, "Why are we testing me neural signs now that I'm starting to get high off of morphine?"
"Because I'm tripping out," Regi snapped at her, "You're still flipping me shit - I guess that means you'll live."
Alexandra was a little surprised to see Michael, of all people, in the background. Darren she expected. Max and Regi she expected. Walter waved at her from the hallway. Nikita wasn't there, but she was probably busy, she was always busy lately . . . and Alexandra knew there were always other missions in the works, missions she should have been getting ready for too.
The tech checked her vital signs, made sure she was alert, and walked away to notify a doctor. Everyone was standing in the hallway, except Michael. He walked over to her bedside, watching her face. Dressed in all black, yet stunningly beautiful, considering he was man, a thought came to her mind unbidden, the arch angel Michael, black angel of death . . . Alexandra had thought she was in hell a few times before, being faced with Michael when she screwed up, once when she first came to Section one. This time, it was something in his face.
"Why did you choose the window?" Michael asked her, his expression emotionless.
Alexandra looked over at the glass of water, and Michael held it up to her lips. Half of her upper body was wrapped and bound down, the other hand had an IV in it, and she felt so weak.
"Because I didn't want to feel 20 rounds rip into me when I went through the door - and Max would have rushed them - and we'd both be messed up now if he had," Alexandra told him.
"Third story window, that's quite a jump," he said quietly, "Any other reasons you choose the window? A flash grenade would have stopped them."
"I wasn't carrying one," Alexandra said, "What are you getting at - why would I want to jump Michael?"
"When was the last time you saw Darren, outside of Section?" Michael asked her.
"Weeks ago," Alex told him, "And that has to do with what Michael?"
"Your personal life - motivation for staying alive," Michael said calmly.
Alexandra sighed, and closed her eye's, "You think I jumped on purpose . . . to die . . . Michael, if I want to live very much. If I wanted to die, I'd OD on cocaine and acid mixed together, that was the most phenomenal feeling. I could have jumped in front of the hostiles, or just put my gun to my head. I have all kinds of quick ways to do it. Jumping out a window, so I can break my neck and wait to be pulled off life support, would not be my first choice."
Michael watched her face.
"Michael . . . go be someone else's savior today. I'm fine. I miss him, I want to feel his touch so bad I can't sleep at night, but I'm not ready to die over it - and on your way out, send him and the others in."
Michael wasn't used to being dismissed, not the way she had just done, but her reaction satisfied his concerns. He hadn't voiced them to Nikita, because she had so much on her plate as it was. He turned to leave.
"But thanks," Alexandra said softly.
Michael nodded, and kept walking toward the door.
"Alex is awake, she's alert, and they're keeping her comfortable," Michael told Nikita, standing in her doorway.
Nikita nodded, "Thank you. Did you see the re-analysis? Flash grenade would have done it . . ."
Michael nodded, "I wouldn't have thought of that."
"Yes you would have," Nikita replied, "But I didn't, when I prepped this mission."
"You can't carry everything with you," Michael replied, "We don't use them often."
"We're going to start," Nikita told him, and sighed, covering her face with her hands.
Michael shut her door, turned the blinds down, and walked over behind her desk, and pulled her into his arms. He felt her body tremble with the first racking sobs, and held her as close as he could, rubbing her back. He knew it wasn't just that Alex had almost been killed, though her death would weigh heavily on Nikita. It was the strain of the position, the weight of the responsibility of so many lives . . .
He waited until she calmed down a little bit, and pressed a kiss to temple.
That was too much for Nikita. She turned, seeking his mouth with her own, kissing him hungrily. She started to yank his shirt from his slacks, sliding her hand under his shirt, feeling his muscles bunch under her touch as they kissed. She yanked open his belt and pants, and reached inside.
In the back of his mind, Michael knew that taking her here and now was asking for trouble, but his need was so great, all he could think about was that Nikita wanted him so bad, and that was an incredible aphrodisiac right now.
She freed him from his pants, and Michael yanked her skirt up, and pulled her already moist panties aside, thrusting himself into her eager flesh.
Nikita moaned, and wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts as best she could from her precarious position, sitting on her desk. Somehow they managed to reach their climax at the same time. Nikita held onto Michael in the aftermath, aware that he kept an arm around her, stroking her back, while he managed to arrange his clothing.
"I have this really erotic dream, where you throw me back on the briefing room table," Nikita whispered.
There was a knock on the door, and they both jumped apart. Nikita looked at Michael, and made sure he was dressed, "Yes?"
Walter opened the door, "I just wanted to let you know that Alexandra's awake and kicking."
"Thanks," Nikita said, smiling at him.
Walter left.
Nikita groaned, "I can't believe I -we just did it here!"
Neither could Michael, "Operations is gone for four days - Madeline and two other level 5's are filling in - I have it on good authority Madeline is going to disappear this afternoon. It's the 22nd, why don't we go back to your place or my place, decorate a tree, and enjoy Christmas? We can invite a few people over tomorrow- we'll make it look like you just happened to invite me. Then we can spend all of Christmas Eve alone, and Christmas Day."
Nikita looked up at him, and opened her mouth to argue.
"This is as safe as it's going to get Nikita," Michael said softly, "There was a time, when you were bending over backwards to convince me . . . we've traded places."
Nikita closed her eye's, and then looked over at her laptop. She had so much to do, but Madeline had pushed everything back to late on the 26th, and the 27th.
"OK . . . We'll meet back at my apartment tonight."
Michael blinked, "Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight," Nikita told him, "I'm not done with my Christmas shopping."
"I'll go with you," Michael said softly, moving to kiss her.
Nikita kissed him back, briefly, then pulled away, "Nope - I need to shop solo. You need to go get me a tree."
Michael wasn't going to argue with her. He was glad she'd agreed.
"I'll go make the rounds of invitations, quietly," Nikita told him, "I'll see you later."
She pulled out of his arms, and grabbed her coat and purse up from the rack, and left her office quickly.
Michael blinked, unsure if he'd imagined the whole thing. That was almost too easy.
Alexandra saw Nikita walking in, just as Darren, Regi and Max were walking out.
Nikita stopped to talk to them quietly for a few minutes.
"Hey boss," Alexandra said, and frowned, "You're eye's are red - what's wrong?"
Nikita smiled, "Rough morning. So, bungy jumping went wrong or what?"
Alexandra smiled, "Must have been an acid flash back - thought I sprouted wings."
Nikita rolled her eye's, "You're gonna be out for a few weeks you know."
Alexandra rolled her eye's, just like Nikita, to tease her, "I figured."
"I'm going to be leaving Section now, tomorrow, Darren is going to check you out of Med Lab, and bring you to my house for a small - invitation only Christmas party - one that certain people on the food chain don't know about - sort of," Nikita told her, "But you can have me called if you need anything while I'm out."
Alexandra nodded, "Got it. What should I bring?"
"Just you," Nikita told her, "Rest up."
Nikita visited Walter, Birkhoff and Gayle, and Madeline, before she left, and she called Max and Birkhoff. It was invitation only because Nikita wasn't inviting all of Section One, and though Madeline was invited, Nikita also knew that Madeline had been trying to help Michael out lately in his quest to get around Operations . . . and it appeared that Madeline was going to spend Christmas here alone without the old man.
Next, Nikita headed out, and went Christmas shopping. She'd done some Christmas shopping via the internet, but she wasn't done, and waiting for delivery time wasn't an option at this point.
She browsed the mall, buying Alexandra a lens that she'd heard the redhead talking about. Darren was getting a new out fit. He was one of the few fashion conscious men she knew. Walter's gift had been bought, a show knife she'd seen him gazing at in a magazine. Birkhoff was getting some computer game, and Gayle was getting a dress. Nikita had bought Michael a black silk robe a month ago.
Nikita stopped at one more place, and bought ornaments, shiny glass balls, brushed glass balls, with intricate designs in gold and silver glitter on them, in all different colors and sizes, lights, and tinsel. She bought up candles and candle displays, garlands to hang around her house, and most importantly, Mistletoe.
Nikita turned out to be a very organized party planner. She'd ordered a meat and cheese tray and a fruit tray, and sent Michael out to pick them up. She also made several kinds of party snacks herself, and put Michael to work fixing some of them. She attacked him just before the party was supposed to start, and took his shirt away, and threw it in a sink of water, and threw a jade green silk shirt at him instead, so he didn't have a choice. She allowed the black slacks to remain.
Nikita changed into an ice blue off the shoulder top and leggings. Just at 7pm, the doorbell rang.
It was Alexandra and Darren. Darren was dressed in charcoal black slacks and a teal green silk shirt with a high band collar. Alexandra had on a purple satiny button up big shirt and black legging, and flat lace up ankle boots, her arm arranged in a sling.
"How are you feeling?" Nikita asked her.
Alexandra smiled, "Pretty good considering - I don't feel so wiped out - but I slept most of the day too."
"Park yourself in that chair, and we'll get you whatever you want," Nikita told her.
"I want a drink - I took Tylenol because rumor has it Michael makes a mean egg nog and brandy," Alexandra said, and then stopped suddenly, looking around, "Oh my god - you invite Walter - and then you put mistle toe up all over the place?"
Walter showed up with Gayle and Birkhoff, wearing a plastic head band that had a plastic piece extending out, Mistletoe hanging off of it. He walked in, and grabbed Nikita, and made a show of bending her backwards, and planting a kiss on her lips, though chaste. Michael cleared his throat after a moment, teasing.
Walter released Nikita, and walked over to Alexandra, and did the same to her.
"Walter please, everyone will know our secret," Alexandra teased.
"Hush, don't tell Nikita, she gets jealous!" Walter joked with her.
Regi and Max arrived next, moments before Madeline.
They all ate and drank in excess. Michael's eggnog was a hit, and the champagne was gone quickly. They played music and danced, and Walter got all of the men to make a game out of trying to catch the ladies under the mistletoe. Darren whispered in Alexandra's ear that either Walter didn't know that Max and Regi were gay, and together, or he was being ornery. But Max and Regi played along. Alexandra had her camera out, and snapped pictures intermittently all evening. Sometime in the evening, someone took a picture of Madeline sitting on Walter's lap, and he had an arm around Nikita on one side, and Alexandra on the other, a devilish grin on his face. Michael danced with all of the ladies present, and Alexandra made a quiet joke that only Michael could hear that this wasn't that different Rave, just minus the drugs and sex in other rooms, and sometimes not in other rooms. It was just after midnight when the party broke up, and someone called for a few cab's. Nikita had warned everyone to take cabs to begin with.
Alexandra let Darren unlock her apartment. Being one handed wasn't doing much for her. Getting dressed had been a problem - Darren had to help her with a bra, going without one wasn't an option, not in the shirt he brought her. He'd helped her button up her shirt too. He'd been a gentleman about the whole thing, and did his best to shield her brief nudity from any peering eyes.
So now he tossed her keys on the counter top, and locked the door behind them.
" I need a shower, they let he have a sponge bath," Alexandra told him, "If you could just help me unhook the bra . . ."
"No problem," Darren told her. But he was lying, only to himself. It was a huge problem, he wanted her so bad he was afraid of losing control.
She kicked off her shoes, and managed to get her arm out of the sling gently, and unbuttoned her blouse with one hand. Darren unclipped her bra, and gently eased it around her bandages.
He tossed her cloths into the hamper, and disappeared into the living room, coming back in with the package Med Lab sent her home with. In the package was a sleeve that would fit over her cast, and keep it from getting wet.
He gently eased it over the cast, made sure the rubber ends weren't gapping, and started to pull his own shirt off, and walked into the bathroom. Alexandra heard the shower go on.
He came back out, tossing his shirt onto the chair.
"Uh . . . what are you doing?" Alexandra asked him, keeping her good arm over her breasts.
"You said you wanted a shower," Darren told said, "You're exhausted, and working with one arm - Relax Alex - I'm not going to ravage you in the shower - unless you ask me too."
Alexandra kicked off her leggings and pulled off her panties, tossing them in the hamper, and quickly slipped into the shower, knowing Darren was right behind her. He heard her laugh a little after a moment.
"What?" he asked, watching as she soaked her hair. He grabbed up the bottle of shampoo.
"Me . . . I'm nervous about this . . . and we've been as intimate for months . . . a month of celibacy and I'm nervous."
"Operations is undoubtedly busy himself tonight," Darren told her, "Besides, Nikita was telling me he's officially out of Section One for a few days . . . so the way I see it, we're in the clear."
He started to massage the shampoo into her hair, and then did his own hair. They rinsed it out, and then Darren repeated the routine with the conditioner. Next he grabbed the bar of soap, and rather than using a wash cloth, he rubbed the soap in his hands, and then rubbed her good shoulder, both arms. He turned her around, and started from her ankles and worked his way up her legs, being very chaste the hole time. He rubbed his soaped up hands down her back, massaging as he went, and then reached around in front of her starting with her stomach and then worked his way up, cupping her breasts, gently squeezing.
Alexandra moaned, unable to hold the sound back.
She turned around, grabbing the soap, intent on torturing him the same way he'd just done to her. Every touch she massaged him with the slippery soap, covering every inch of his body. Darren started to caress her breasts again, when her fingers enveloped his swelling penis.
"You know . . . you once asked if I'd ever consider photographing us . . . together," Alexandra whispered, "It would be easy, I could just set up the tripod . . ."
"Querrida, what you do to me," he said huskily in Spanish.
He kept an arm around her waist to support her, lifted one of her legs so she rested her foot on the side of the tub.
"Kiss me," she whispered, turning her face up to his.
Darren pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, then to the other, and slowly worked his way along her lip line, suckling, flicking with is tongue. He slid his hand from her breasts down between her thighs, parting her, slipping his middle finger inside her wet sheath, his thumb stroking over her sensitive clit.
Alexandra moaned, and started to turn her head a little, wanting him to kiss her on the mouth, not just her lips.
"I want you inside me," she murmured against his mouth.
Darren pulled them out of the shower, and over to her bed.
"Wait - I need your help to set this up, being one handed," Alexandra said, pulling him away from the bed.
They brought her camera and the tripod in, and Alexandra loaded a new role of film into it. She set it to take the pictures over the next hour, at certain time intervals.
Darren sat down, and pulled her body backwards towards him, entering her from behind, her back to his chest. Her legs dangling off an either side of his. He used one hand to cup her breasts, carefully squeezing her nipples between this thumb and forefinger, and stroking her now incredibly sensitive clit with his other hand, while he rocked his hips, thrusting into her.
"Querrida," He spoke to her in Spanish, "You feel so good, so tight, so hot and wet."
Alexandra rested her head back on his shoulder, turning her face to his, so they could kiss. He started to kiss her, his tongue dancing from her lips and mouth to her neck, the shell of her ear, and back to her mouth. His thrusts became more and more aggressive when he felt her body start to climax, and he let his own release come then.
Nikita woke up to a feeling of intense and arousal and fullness, and opened her eye's to see Michael above her, propped up on his arms. He grinned wickedly and flicked his tongue over one nipple, and pulled himself back out of her a little, and then slowly eased back in.
"Merry Christmas Kita," He said huskily, "I couldn't think of a better way to wake you."
Nikita squeezed her muscles around him and he moaned, suckling her nipple harder. Michael looked up at her, "Easy on me Ma chere - or I'll be done too fast . . . wrap your legs around me, I want to get deeper inside you."
Nikita couldn't refuse him that request. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching her back, giving him all the leverage she possible could. Michael sank deeper into her, groaning as he felt her flesh accommodate him slowly, dear god she felt wonderful . . .
Christmas ended as abruptly as it arrived. Nikita found herself being summoned to Operations office the moment she set foot in the compound.
He sat behind his desk, his expression grim, "We had an agreement."
Nikita blinked, dear god how had he found out . . .
"Maybe you should refresh my memory, you've broken so many of them, I stopped keeping track of all of our . . . agreements."
Operations looked up at her, his expression dangerous, "Don't test my patience any more Nikita, I won't hesitate to cancel either one of you, or both of you."
Nikita's temper boiled over, "For what? I gave him up! I don't live with him, we don't go out now . . . hell I avoid him in Section if I possibly can - what more can you ask?"
"The night of the 23rd made things clearly evident that you hadn't broken anything off," Operations yelled, "I've made my decision."
Nikita felt her blood run cold, she wanted to run, to hide, "Canceling either one of us is mistake, we're short operatives as it is, let alone good ones . . . this weakness - as you call it, has not been a problem!"
"Not problem?" Operations snapped, "Section One's orders have always came first - My orders, that apparently isn't taking place anymore . . . This is your final warning Nikita. I've canceled level 5 operatives many times before. I won't hesitate now, especially when they're acting like they just arrived."
He tossed a file at her, "Call in your team - you're about to leave for a mission."
Nikita fumed in her office. Something about this mission didn't smell right. They were going to be given instructions enroute. Nikita read through the data pad. It was a simple mission really. They were going to bring someone in. Everything looked legit. They the whole thing planned out, including exit's . . . but Darren was going on this mission with her, and so were a few other operatives that normally were not on her team. And though a lot of her team was out on another assignment under Max's leadership - enough of them where available.
Michael had been sent on a mission early this morning. That was no coincidence.
There was a knock on her door, and Nikita looked up to see Darren. He had an envelope in his hand, "I'm going on a job with you huh?"
Nikita nodded, "Yeah . . .with me - I got the whole thing worked up and dumped in my lap this morning when I got in. Didn't even have to work it up."
"I'm gonna go change - these are the pictures Alexandra took at your party by the way," Darren told Nikita, handing her the envelope.
Nikita took it, and watched him leave. She slid them out, and felt her heart catch in her throat. Michael looking right into the lens, holding onto Nikita possessivly . . .
He's said something to her a few day's ago, how they'd switched roles. There was a time when she was the one who wouldn't give up, who would defy the gods themselves . . . now she held back in fear of the consequences, while Michael seemed hell bent defying Operations at every turn.
Nikita waited until they were all on the plain, to go over the mission parameters. She keyed up her data pad, and waited for everyone to turn there's on. But what was on her's was not the mission that she'd been told she was going on.
What she did get was live feed from Operations - and so did everyone else.
"You're not going on a retrieval mission," Operations said, "You're going to a new Section base - a subbase no one is going to know the location of except myself and very few other people with clearance. Your personal items will be forwarded on. Under no circumstances are you to have any contact, what so ever, with anyone from any of the other Section substations. You'll be re-staffing Section 3 - under the direct authority of George."
"What exactly is the rest of section being told, when 20 operatives just up and leave one morning," Nikita asked, "We have some incomplete teams now."
"As far as the rest of Section One is concerned, you were all killed on the mission," Operations told them, "No contact, ever."
The transmission went dead, as did the datapads.
There were several gasps, a few swear words heard. Nikita looked up, feeling her eye's burn. The expressions she saw ranged from anger, to shock, resentment, resignation . . . .
Continue on to Aftermath