Resolution
By Kimberly
Alexandra had tried really hard to sleep those hours in between her last chewing out and the next mission briefing, but she hadn't been able to. She'd checked on Max, only to find that he was still in surgery, then they were not allowing visitors. She went back to her quarters, and flopped down on her bed, and let her memory drift. It was ironic really, she's been so angry at Lora for committing suicide. Now she understood it.
Nikita felt as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She was worried about Michael, and the situation with his sister. She couldn't see Michael leaving it alone. Sooner or later he'd go to see her. She also knew that put Michael - and Sarah at risk. Michael had to be feeling stress from all this now. Then there was Alexandra, causing stress for all of them.
Nikita could hear the conversation Michael played back for her as if she'd been there for the event. It frightened her. She wanted to put Alex under 24 hour watch and shake some sense into her, take the pain away, make her believe her life was worth living.
Yet Nikita knew that if she did put Alexandra under watch, Madeline would put the redhead in abeyance and Alexandra's days would be numbered.
She looked over at Michael, who was driving them back to Section One.
"What do you think we should do about Alexandra?" Nikita asked him, "If we put her on watch, she's finished."
Michael sighed, Nikita barely heard it, "I don't know . . . I agree that we can't risk putting her on watch. But I don't know how effective she'll be on a mission like this."
Nikita wondered if Alexandra had it in her to do something stupid on a mission, to end her life that way.
"She might put herself at risk more in a mission right now . . ." Nikita said out loud, looking over at Michael, "Have you run into this before?"
Yes, and I tried to seduce you to bring you back to life, but I set you free instead . . .
"She's hostile with me . . . I won't be able to reach her. We have to find value in this life for her, or let her go."
Nikita felt her stomach twist. Letting her go was not an option as far as she was concerned.
The reached Section One, conversation ceased.
Briefing Room . . .
Nikita took inventory of staff in the room. Red team was present, except for Max who was presently in Medlab. Alexandra sat at the end of the table, remaining silent and unresponsive unless someone addressed her specifically. Nikita hoped Madeline didn't see how despondent the redhead was right now.
Operations walked in, and hit a button on his remote control, and a display appeared.
"We have a situation in the middle east," he began.
So tell us something New . . .Darren though to himself.
"This is Emir Alfad Rashnish. Politically correct in the lime light, our sources tell us he's having no trouble getting supplies through a pipe line that's been dry since the onset of last war with Iraq. The supplies we are concerned about are bio - chemical in nature."
The entire room seemed to shiver. Two the most heinous things man had managed to invent, and most of man wished they could un-invent it.
Birkhoff cued up two more holographic images, " We have two sites set as our target zones. Here, in Syria, where the supplies are being shipped from, and here in Iraq, where they are eventually ending up. If we block both entrances, we can intercept them, and find out who is supplying them and what they've been supplied with so far. There's a secondary part the mission though. In Iraq, there is a depot that may well contain a storage of bio - chemical weapons, or at the least the supplies to manufacture them. Destroying that depot is a priority."
Nikita leaned back in her chair and looked over at Walter, and remembering their last escapade with bio - chemical weapons.
" Do we know what kind of bio - chemical weapons they're producing?" Michael asked, more for the teams benefit than his. He knew he'd be given a more complete manifest.
" A variety. Anthrax, Ricin, VX gas and Clostridium Perfringens. Walter has the data on the bombs you'll be using to destroy the plant."
All eye's turned to Walter. " The explosives I'll be providing your with are designed to burn fast and extremely hot. No survival rate at all. The only way to kill this stuff is to incinerate it, and fast," Walter explained, " The explosive will sit in standard detonator packages, but you'll have to liberally place the charges. More is better in this case. You'll also be suited up in biohazard suits, sturdy, but they're not fool proof. Don't get shot, and don't tear the suits."
Darren sat up and leaned forward, " Do we have data on what this stuff does to people, these are names I haven't heard before."
Michael looked over, " The effects start with toxins that cause diaphragm muscle paralysis that leads to suffocation, gas gangrene, which is where the gas infects open wounds and the surrounding tissue develops gangrene, and severe chemical burns. You can inhale it, touch it, and be infected, and killed within hours. There are not always effective treatments.
" We leave at 0600," Michael announced, "report back in at 0500 to Walter for gear."
Everyone stood up, broke off into groups as they headed for the door.
"Nikita," Michael said softly, "I'd like you to assist in tactical planning."
Nikita nodded, and couldn't help but smile. It meant no sleep for her, but it also meant that he had faith in her growing talents.
The room emptied, leaving Michael, Birkhoff, Walter and Nikita with a holographic display.
" This is the warehouse," Birkhoff began . . .
They went through the process of looking for entry and exit ways, structural supports, where charges were best placed, how many people were needed in various locations.
Nikita thought they should use more explosive that what specs recommended in this case, considering what they were destroying. Walter and Michael agreed, Birkhoff sighed nervously, imagining the sheer destruction.
This was all for the Iraqi depot. In Syria, their goal was to secure and capture first, destroy second.
" Should we collapse this oil pipeline? To prevent it from being used again?" Nikita asked the group, "What's the political fallout risk if we destroy a major pipeline?"
Walter was all for collapsing it, Birkhoff thought the political ramifications could be potential nightmare for the interagency politics. Michael made the final decision to collapse the end in Iraq. More explosives.
" Now," Walter began, " Before I go package enough explosive to compare to Armageddon - keep in mind that you need to be truly clear of the blast zone. You'll be in the burn zone at 50 yard. Safe would be 150 - but you'll still be able to feel some heat, though not enough for a 1st degree burn."
Michael nodded, " Nikita, we need to split up red team into two units - I want you to lead the unit in Syria, I'll take the team in Iraq . . ."
Nikita waited until she and Michael had walked back into his office.
" Why are we putting Alex in Iraqi - next to explosives - when she's off balance."
Michael sat back against his desk, grasping Nikita's hands with his own. He'd shut the blinds, blocked audio and visual surveillance.
Nikita knew the look in Michael's eyes. He needed human comfort now. His sister, Alex - both weighed heavily on him too.
" So I can keep a close eye on her. She'll be with me the whole time, where she can't blow herself up, or someone else - and she can't put anyone at risk on your team. You'll be spread thin as it is," Michael told her, pulling her in closer.
Nikita stepped between his legs, let got of his hands, and slid her arms around his neck, " Except you."
Michael watched Nikita's face, " I can handle her."
Walter gave the quick ten minutes additional instruction in the use of this particular type of explosive as the operatives picked up their gear for the mission. They were off in the transport, and in the air within the hour.
" How's your Iraqi?" Darren asked Alexandra, trying to make conversation on the flight.
She looked over at him, " Better than yours." She answered in Iraqi.
He grinned, and switched to Spanish, " But I beat your ass in Spanish every time."
She rolled her eye's, and answered, "unfair advantaged." In Spanish.
Darren smiled a little, " My father never spoke in Spanish to my mother and I. I learned on the streets."
She nodded a little, " Does your mother speak it."
" No," Darren answered, " But she knew some derogatory terms, she heard them enough."
Alexandra nodded, and the two of them fell into silence
They split up in Syria.
Nikita and her team waited to hit their end half an hour before Michael's team was due to strike. As they watched, no one came or went from the tunnel. Sonar showed the tunnel as empty when they finally performed the strike. No one was present, so there wasn't anyone to detain or capture.
Their job was reduced to surveillance and containment.
Michael's team had a bit more to do.
The infiltrated the depot quietly, killed three guards and broke into the warehouse.
It all went very smoothly, to smooth, they would think in retrospect. Michael and Alexandra went to the far backside of the warehouse. Fighting broke out in the front, an ambush team was waiting for them in the back.
Michael would have fired, risked getting shot himself to get another team member to safety. But they had chemical weapons all around them, and the last thing Michael wanted was to kill himself, Alexandra, and go knew how many civilians. But he was willing to sacrifice himself and Alex if it meant destroying to depot.
He saw Alexandra check a seal on her wrist, and nodded to Michael that she was OK. The men who were shooting at them suddenly stopped. Someone finally realized what it was they were shooting around.
" Birkhoff," Michael said, " Is the building clear?"
" Except for you and Alex, should I send backup? You have 7 converging on you now."
" Blow the building."
Silence.
Alexandra's head dropped down, and she crossed herself, accepting the inevitable.
Silence for a moment.
" Michael, I'm showing you are still in the building," Birkhoff repeated, " Confirm your location."
Nikita, Darren, and the rest of the team in Syria froze in their tracks.
" We're in the building, and we have a possible exposure from one of the canisters. Blow the building."
Darren looked at Nikita, his mouth opening and closing.
Nikita swallowed hard. She wasn't there to race in and rescue anyone.
" I can't Michael," Birkhoff's voice said, " Frequency is jamming."
Michael reached in his pocket, looking for the remote he carried. He closed his eye's, hit the button labeled 'Detonate'.
Nothing happened.
Alexandra and Michael were tied and bodily dragged away from the building, and dumped into the back of a pickup truck. A team of terrorists were moving into the building to clean up what bombs they'd laid out. Michael and Alexandra watched as the Section Helicopter rose up and out of range, heavy ground fire trailing them.
Suddenly the building went up, and the shock wave made the pickup truck swerve, slamming their bodies back and down, the heat rushed over them.
They were far enough away to not do any damage.
Alexandra managed to sit up again, just in time to see the Section helicopter race away, dodging heavy fire the entire time. For a brief moment the dread of abandonment set in, and then she felt it melt away. It was over, almost.
But before she could savor the thought, a hand struck out, knocking her off the bench and onto Michael.
The air was knocked out of her, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision, and tried to roll of him. But before she could work much, she felt a the hard toe of steal toed boot slam into her side. She gasped, as the pain slammed through her. She was briefly aware that someone had started in on Michael before unconsciousness set in.
" What happened?" Nikita demanded, as she and her team boarded the plane to go back to Section one.
" They were ambushed," Birkhoff explained, " Michael and Alexandra didn't have an escape route. The rest of the team got out."
" Why didn't the charges go off at first?" Nikita asked him, her voice a little quieter.
Birkhoff looked right up at her, " The signal wasn't clear enough to send a transmission."
Nikita knew he was lying. Birkhoff knew she knew.
" Do they have their tracers still activated?" Nikita asked him.
" Yes, at the moment, we can track their location from here or Section - Operations has ordered us back. He wants to use this as an opportunity to find their operations point."
Nikita sighed. How much time were they going to lose, waiting, what if they found the tracers, what if they were killed before then . . .
Michael always found you, and they'll question them first . . . we have a few days if they can survive the beatings . . .
Michael heard her screams from down the hall. Each one felt like a knife being stuck into her. She wasn't a screamer. He didn't think she was doing it for effect. He was afraid to know what it was they where doing to her. But he'd know soon enough. They'd do it to him, or worse, use what they did to her as leverage to get to him.
Michael had already decided that if it was too bad, he'd kill her himself, rather than let her suffer. If it became apparent they wouldn't be rescued, or if they were going to be guinea pigs . . .
The screams died off, and after another ten minutes, he heard them dragging her body down the hall. The cell door swung open, and they jumped her in.
The biohazard suit was gone course, they'd taken his. Her face was all bruises swollen flesh, one arm was obviously broken. Her black mission jumpsuit was ripped and torn up the back.
Michael inches his way over, rolling her on her back, and propped her up against the wall.
The front of the jumpsuit was open, her tank top she wore underneath it had been ripped apart. There were bruises on her breasts.
She'd been raped - again. That's why she'd been screaming. She'd passed out.
Michael zipped the jumpsuit up, and gently searched for any injuries he could do something about.
But then he heard the cell door scraping open, and they'd come for him.
She hadn't broken. Now it was his turn. He wasn't concerned about being raped, but he knew they'd beat the hell out of him, threaten to rape her again.
" Tehran," Birkhoff said, walking into the briefing room, " they are in Tehran."
" The tracers were deactivated, here," Madeline said, and watched the faces around her.
All of red team was present. None of them had gone home, or gone to their quarters. The door opened, and Max slowly walked in, looking tired and exhausted.
" You should be back in Medlab," Madeline told him gently.
One look at Nikita's face confirmed Max's heard rumor.
" I can do tactical from here," Max offered, "I'm fit for that."
" I'll keep that in mind," Madeline said, and let him be. She understood the psychology behind his wanting to be there.
" We can't find any current design plans on the structure that they are using. According to the transmission data it looks like they simply went out of range - which isn't really possible. They could just be underground," Birkhoff explained, and a building schematic came up, " The last plans on file shows a small crawl space basement. It isn't unheard of for buildings to be continued under the surface in that region. My guess is that they are to far below the surface to get an accurate transmission."
Operations must have been monitoring, because when he walked in, he said, " People, lets keep in mind that the goal of this strike is to eliminate a terrorist organization. If we extract Michael and Alex, it will be a secondary goal."
He said this looking at Nikita, who nodded her understanding.
" Where does satellite data tell us their main communications center is?" Nikita asked Birkhoff.
" How could you!" Darren demanded, following Nikita down the stairs, and then down the hall to Michael's office.
Nikita held a finger up to her lips, and keyed in the commands to block any surveillance.
She sighed, and tucked Darrens hair back behind his ear, " I want them rescued and safe more than you will ever know . . . but if I show that vulnerability to Operations, someone else may end up running this mission, and that other person - like Forbes, may really treat Michael and Alex as secondary."
Darren shook his head, and sank down into one of the chairs, looking defeated.
" You should get some sleep," Nikita told him.
Darren looked up her with a 'yeah right, like I could sleep' expression on his face.
It struck Nikita that she'd sat in that very chair, begging Michael to save someone so many times in her past.
Darren was quiet for a couple minutes while Nikita worked.
" What do you think they're doing to them," Darren asked her, his voice very somber.
Nikita closed her eye's, I don't want to know, I can't think about that right now . . .
Michael had been right, unfortunately. Alexandra hadn't broke. They threatened to rape her again, more than they already had, if he didn't talk. They beat Michael to the point where he could barely stay conscious. Michael would have gladly passed out, but he was afraid of what they'd do to her next, if he wasn't awake. Not that he could stop them in the condition he was in right now.
They wanted to know what group they were with. Where that group got it's Intel. Alexandra's decidedly west coast American accent and his French accent confused them. This group was not familiar with Section One at all.
They dragged Michael back to the cell, and shoved him in.
Alexandra was right where Michael had placed her when they dragged him away hours earlier.
She was awake though. Michael didn't know if this was a good or bad thing.
He struggled to sit next to her, and she turned her head, to look at him.
It was frightening really. He was used to seeing those clear sapphire blue eye's, glaring back at him. Now they looked at him with pain etched in them. He could barely see the blue mixed in with all the blood.. Worse than when he'd met her the first time. Worse than that night when he'd ordered her Section One quarters lock released so he could stop her trainer that night . . .
" Why don't they just kill us," she managed to whisper, through cracked bleeding lips.
Michael blinked a couple times to stay awake, " They'll give a few hours to relax, and then it will be worse."
She closed her eyes, " I can't handle anything worse . . . I don't want to handle this anymore."
" You didn't break," he answered her.
She nodded barely. It hurt to move, " I don't know If I'll be able to resist next time."
She turned to look at him, " I don't even have a shoe lace, anything sharp . . ."
Michael knew she wasn't talking about defending herself from her attackers. She was talking about suicide.
" No," he said urgently, and reached for her hand, gently holding onto it, "if you have to tell them, Section One will be OK. they won't be able to get in anyhow."
She closed her eye's, " I know Section is secure . . . I can't keep living like this Michael . . . I don't know how you or Nikita, or Darren do it."
He was rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, " Nikita and I lean on each other . . . there are people in Section One who need us to be there, alive . . . or they won't survive much longer."
She kept her eye's closed, " No one in section is better off alive Michael."
He would have sighed if it didn't hurt his ribs so much.
" Does Darren deserve to die?" Michael asked her quietly.
She looked over at him, " No, but-"
" Then why would he be better off dead then . . . He can make a difference, save lives that he couldn't save before. I do it, Nikita does it, you do it . . ."
She shook her head a little, " I just can't."
" You have to," Michael told her, " Seeing you're face makes it worth while for Darren to go on. If you are gone, he will be dead himself in six months - if he's lucky. They don't always cancel us out of Section One with a bullet in the head. He's physically a beautiful man, they'd use him for other things . . ."
Her lips twitched, " They do that now. He's had to seduce women he didn't want for missions."
Michael shook his head, " He has choices. He wouldn't like they section whore house. Imagine facing what's happened to you today every day, for months - that's all he'll last. Maybe."
Alexandra turned to look at him, " Not even Section One is that cruel."
Michael looked at her, " Yes they are. We do what it takes - at the cost of our own souls."
Alexandra searched his eye's, and knew what he told her was true.
She slept a little. Michael slept a little. They both woke up when their captors came back, and dragged the both of them back down the hall. They made Michael watch while they beat her to the point of her passing out. Then the hosed her off with ice cold water, bringing her back. At one point they held a gun to her head. Michael refused to answer. He knew they wouldn't shoot. He knew they had been given orders to let neither one of them die. They still didn't know Michael and Alexandra spoke the language. They questioned them in English, they refused to answer, in English.
It was the same the next few days. Beatings, raping, questioning.
" I can't take this," she croaked out hoarsely, "Please Michael . . ."
Michael ached all over. It amazed him he could even consciously process her words, he almost wished he couldn't. But then he felt guilty - for wanting to shut her out, her pain.
It had been 5 days. The only reason Michael knew it had been 5 days was because they heard two of the guards talking. Section hadn't tried to come back for them yet, and it had been 5 days. The Iraqi terrorist group was feeling secure that they wouldn't have to worry about another assault.
They were also sure that Michael and Alex were not going to break. While he and Alexandra listened to the conversation the guards assumed they couldn't understand, the guards discussed whether or not Michael's dead body should be dragged about the streets behind a jeep in front of news reporters.
They wanted to keep Alexandra around for a few more days. Raping her was the only sex some of them had had in a while.
She'd wept quietly for hours, begged the god she didn't believe in anymore to let her die.
Now she was begging Michael.
" I'm not strong enough to do it myself," she croaked out, " I can't stand up to hang myself even with the rags left of my cloths . . ."
She'd tried though. She still had scraps left from the tank top that had been ripped apart the first time they'd hurt her. Michael had woke up to her sliding down the wall. She couldn't stand up on her own. She had tied the shirt around her own neck, and tried to stand long enough to tie the other end around the bars that held the window closed. But she couldn't stand up anymore . . .
Michael crawled over to where she lay in a heap on the floor, and gently put his arms around her, as best he could. He could barely stand himself. It had been sheer will power that kept him conscious now.
She cried into his chest, begging him to help her. Break her neck, help her hang herself, no one had to know he'd helped her if that's what stopped him.
" We'll be out of here soon," he'd said, trying to the hysterical woman who was twisted up in his arms.
" They're not coming back for us Michael!" she said urgently, " It's been 5 days. Section either thinks we're dead or they're not coming back! If they'd leave Max in that alley, they are not coming back here for us!"
Michael couldn't argue that logic. He'd been lying when he'd told her they'd be out of her soon. He'd hoped that she'd be dead by the next morning, that he wouldn't have to do it himself. He had more blood on his hands than he wanted to even guess at. He didn't want to add Alexandra's to the list. There was something repulsive in the thought of breaking her neck himself. Even if was out of mercy.
But she wasn't going to die fast enough on her own, which was amazing considering the amount of blood she'd lost.
Michael's soul was damned and he knew it. One more death wasn't going to make a difference. If she wasn't dead by the time they came for them again, he'd do it himself.
With that thought in mind, he waited, resting, saving up his strength.
It was sometime in the middle of the night that the noise woke them. Screaming, yelling, the sound of breaking bottles.
Both of them thought the same thing at the same time. The guards were in the middle of another drunken brawl. They'd be here, in this cell, for a little fun soon.
Then they heard gunfire, more screams.
" They're killing off the prisoners," Alexandra croaked out, looking up at Michael, her eye's swollen and bloody, begging him, " They'll be here soon, for us."
Michael struggled to get to his knee's, and pulled her body around, back against his chest. He folded her forward, and grasped her chin, and took as deep a breath as he could.
" Do it," She croaked out, " They're coming."
Michael could hear the foot steps.
He yanked.
But there was not tell tail cracking or popping, he didn't feel the bones in her neck snap and twist under his weakened fingers.
She was still alive.
" Oh god," She begged, " Try again, one more time . . ."
Michael nodded, and pulled her back against his chest, and reached across her body, grasping on shoulder, cupping her chin in the other.
The door burst open.
" Michael No!" Nikita screamed, diving for them, knocking Michael back against the wall.
" Jesus Christ!" Darren hissed dropping down next to Alexandra.
She moaned softly, "No, no more, please no more . . ."
Michael blinked, seeing the golden blond halo in front of him, and for a moment, he thought perhaps he was dead. But that would mean Nikita was dead, and in hell, with him. That simply wasn't possible.
" Nikita," He breathed . . . " I almost . . .I had to . . ."
" Shush," she whispered, and looped her arm behind his back, " We have to get out here. The rest of the team is setting charges."
Michael nodded a little, and pushed with his legs, to help Nikita has much as he could.
Darren threw his head back and howled in rage. He knew without asking what had happened. He knew what they saw almost happening. What he doubted was that she'd be alive when they got back to Section one. But there was no way in hell he was going to let her die in here.
He scooped her up, and she passed out promptly from the pain. It's better this way, he thought. She'll never feel it when she dies . . .
Nikita took just enough time to shower before she went right back to Medlab. It was eery, being the one standing on this side of the glass, looking in at Michael. Michael was usually out of Medlab as fast as they could remove what ever bullet was lodged where ever he'd been hit.
But he still lay there on the gurney, somehow managing to look ashen despite all the multi colored bruises that molted his face, arms and body. They weren't letting anyone see Alexandra yet. She was still in surgery. It didn't look good either . . .
Click, click, click, click . . .
Madeline's heels tapped as she walked up behind Nikita.
" How is he doing?" Madeline asked her.
Nikita sighed, " He hasn't woken up yet, but you know Michael, he'll pull through this. He just won't like the turn around time."
Madeline nodded, " They're done with Alex."
Nikita stepped away from Michael's bed, and walked over to the far side of the room.
Madeline was quiet for a few moments.
" They don't know how she could have possibly made it back here alive, they say she never should have made it through surgery . . . she is alive for the moment," Madeline told her.
Nikita nodded, and turned her face away, trying hard not to cry. She gave up quickly, "She's not going to make it, is she?"
Madeline shook her head, "They give her ten percent . . . We'll do what we can, but you have to be prepared for the inevitable."
Nikita nodded, and wiped the tears from her eye's.
" Where is everyone?"
" All of red team is camping out in the hallway," Madeline told her. She hugged the younger woman to her, letting her sob for a few moments, until she composed herself.
After a few minutes, Nikita took a few deep breaths, and walked over to Michael's bed, and squeezed his hand, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, " I wish I had your strength Michael."
" Well, what's the verdict Sugar, they're both gonna pull through, right?" Walter asked.
Nikita took a deep breath, "Michael will, he's beat up pretty bad, but he'll be OK eventually . . . they don't have a lot hope for Alex though, she was . . . hurt . . . pretty bad."
Everyone knew what had been done to her pretty bad though.
Nikita's eye's searched for Darren, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his back to the wall. He made eye contact with her briefly, and went back to looking at the floor.
Michael woke up, and found no one waiting in his room. Which was rare. Whenever he'd been hurt and had been down for anything longer than a minute, Nikita was there when he woke up.
He sat up, and felt a twinge of pain as he moved. His broken ribs were protesting. But he swung his legs over the side of the bed anyhow, and reached for the I.V Pole. If Nikita wasn't in here, he knew where she was. He wanted to know himself how Alexandra was doing.
Michael slowly walked through the back hall that linked all the Medlab treatment rooms, until he found the one Alexandra was in. Sure enough, Nikita was standing in the room, far away from the bed, talking with one of the doctors.
She saw Michael approach and frowned a little.
It suddenly occurred to Michael that he might be blamed for this right now. Breaking and giving the where abouts of Section One was simply not an option. Nikita wouldn't do it herself, but was her judgment being colored by the fact that her material was laying on in the hospital bed, having been brutalized - again?
Michael had been willing to break and give up the location once, but Alexandra screamed "No!" at him, fighting her attackers all the while.
Darren walked in at that point, from the other entrance, and nodded at Michael, concern etched in his face. At least Darren wasn't blaming him.
Michael slowly walked over to the hospital bed.
" How is she?" Michael asked him.
Darren looked at Michael, the green eye's that were troubled, guilt clearly etched in them.
" She's a fighter," Darren said, and hoped it didn't sound as lame as it did, " She'll pull through."
Michael looked back down at the redhead on the hospital gurney. Her face was still so swollen and bruised, he hardly recognized her, and even with the colors from the bruises, she looked pale.
Darren either didn't know how bad she was, or wasn't going to say it here.
Michael turned away, and walked over to where Nikita was.
" You shouldn't be out of bed yet," Nikita told him.
Michael didn't answer, but looked directly into Nikita's eye's, " How is she."
Nikita returned his steady gaze, " She's not good, they don't know who she made it through surgery, they've pumped a lot of blood back into her."
" It's touch and go from here," the doctor told them, " I've seen a few operatives pull out of cases as bad as this - but not many."
Darren saw the doctor gesture that Darren should go, and let her rest.
Darren nodded, and leaned down brushing her hair back from her face, and whispered in her ear, " You gotta pull through this sweetheart. I need you. I won't make it without you here. I love you Querrida."
" This shouldn't surprise me at all," Darren said quietly to Nikita, once they were out of the briefing room.
Nikita nodded, and looked around them to see who was watching. There was always someone watching.
" Your right, any other entity and we'd be camped out in Medlab, but here, we're back in the field as soon as they can grab a few extra bodies for us to get shot up - or worse," Nikita told him, and she put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze, "I had a hard time here - I didn't get that . . . whatever it is that lets you handle this place . . . until I had been here four years - if was after I'd been held prisoner by the freedom league - and Section One thought I was dead."
Darren nodded a little, his lips were pressed tightly together, " They will do everything they can, won't they?"
Nikita nodded, " They will with Michael standing over their shoulders."
"Isn't this a switch," Madeline's voice said, behind Michael.
Michael knew she had walked into the room. He hadn't turned to look. He didn't need to.
" She's been restless in her . . . sleep," Michael said softly.
Madeline smiled warmly at him, but Michael knew better.
" That's a good sign . . . does Nikita know you are here?" Madeline asked him.
Michael nodded, " I'm sure she does . . . I don't understand her . . . strength - I would have broken - she did not."
Madeline sighed nodding, " You're not responsible for everyone's welfare Michael. Even the best trained operatives can be hurt - and killed."
Michael nodded, barely, and stepped back from the gurney, " How is the sequence going?"
" Well," Madeline told him, "Nikita has become an effective leader."
Michael nodded again. He knew she was up to the challenge. She did her best work when someone else's life was at stake.
Darren walked out of debrief, and still clad in mission gear, walked into Alexandra's Medlab room. It has been a week since she'd come back, unconscious. In that week they state of the art equipment section one had was used to monitor her progress. Her blood pressure was good, she was off respiratory after two days. Her chem results were good. Brainwaves were good.
But she hadn't woken up. Darren wasn't sleeping much. Madeline had informed Darren, Nikita and Michael yesterday as they stood over Alexandra's bed that if she wasn't awake tomorrow, Section One may not being willing to waste any more resources on her. A cold op that couldn't work wasn't worth keeping alive.
Every day Darren was in there, talked to her, carried on a one sided conversation. He told her about his day. What was going on with the missions, the other operatives. Who was sleeping with who on the sly. The pranks they played when they had a chance.
And often enough, he begged. Begged her to open her eyes, begged her to come back.
"Please Querrida . . ."
Querrida . . . Querrida . . . loved one . . .
Alexandra was aware of the voices that spoke to her, around her, though she wasn't always able to make out all the words, some of the words, yes . . . it was mostly the voices she recognized. Michael spoke to her - in French - unless Nikita was there, then he spoke English. Nikita spoke to her a lot. Darren was there a lot too. While Nikita and Michael sounded upbeat, Darren sounded desperate.
'If you are gone, he will be dead himself in six months - if he's lucky. . .He's physically a beautiful man, they'd use him for other things . . .'
'I need you Querrida . . . just open your eye's . . .'
Alexandra struggled against the heavy fog that held her there, in that dark warm place she was in.
She felt Darrens roughened fingers on her cheek . . . the same roughened fingers that had been so gentle when they touched her other places . . .
Unbidden, the dark horrific images of the Iraqi guards coming at her filled her mind, but she shoved them back. It wasn't real, it was in the past . . .
Darrens fingers slipped between hers, gently squeezing her hand, and she fought to open her eye's, to reach him.
She put all her energy into squeezing his hand back. Suddenly, he stilled, stopped talking for a moment. She held on, and fought to open her eye's.
Nikita and Michael stepped through the door to Alexandra's room, to find Darren leaning over her, excitedly saying " Alex? Alex?"
Nikita quickened her pace.
The redhead on the gurney opened her eye's, and focused them on Darren, and tried to smile.
" I . . . look . . .like . . . shit . . .don't . . . I?" she asked softly, her voice barely a croak.
Darren broke out into a wide grin, " You've looked better - and worse."
Nikita looked over at Michael, and the movement caught Alexandra's attention.
Alexandra turned her head slightly, smiling at Nikita and Michael.
" We missed you for a few days," Nikita told her, stroking Alexandra's forehead a little bit.
Alexandra acknowledged Nikita with a barely noticeable nod, and turned her eye's on Michael, " Thank you . . . for not . . . letting . . . me . . . give up . . . earlier . . ."
Michael felt relief and guilt wash over him at the same time. She was thanking him - he who didn't put her out of her misery earlier, he who badgered her to keep going, he who almost broke her neck, but wasn't strong enough.
" Did . . .we . . . get . . . Ir . . Iraqi's . . .?" she asked.
" Yes," Nikita answered her," The depot was blown, we raided their base and destroyed a lab."
Nikita looked up past the bed, and nodded to medical tech, who in turn hurried off to find a doctor.
" We should inform Madeline," Nikita said after a moment, pulling Michael back from the gurney.
" Alex is awake," Madeline announced, walking into Operations office.
Operations nodded slightly, looking out over the main floor of section one.
" How useful is she going to be to us, after this," He replied, looking over at the auburn haired woman, " If she can't perform in certain situations . . ."
Madeline nodded, " I think she'll recover fully. She'll need some time, a little . . . practice, to get her over the first few hurdles."
Operations nodded, " Do you have a profile yet?"
Madeline smiled, " It will have to be someone she really trusts. I was thinking about using Darren. He's familiar to her. She's comfortable with him."
" What if they form a bond?" Operations asked, " That's something you've been concerned about."
" Some bonds are OK, as long as the job gets done. Handled properly, a bond can be an effective tool . . .for us."
The end.
Continue on to Sarah