written by Tammy
Chapter 3
Dully she could hear and see the SIM still playing out above and behind her. All her senses were fuzzy and she hurt like she had waking up that first morning at Claude and Annie's. With a moan, she pushed the hair and goggles off her face and looked up at the ceiling of the SIM room. The high pitch whine told her the SIM was closing down. Numbness started spreading from the soles of her feet and rapidly went upwards. Giving into almost the first sensible feeling in a month, she laid there, lowering her lids and reveling in the senselessness. The emptiness couldn't find her here.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Lethargically she opened her eyes and saw a figure swimming there. Squeezing them shut again, she made a limp dismissive gesture with her hand. "Shhhhhh. Go away." she said thickly. Swiftly and without a chance to form a coherent thought, she felt herself lifted from the floor and shoved roughly up against the outside wall of the SIM shell. Nikita let her head sag, it felt too heavy to lift. With the same roughness her chin was grabbed and her head forced up. The fingers digging into her arm were beginning to hurt. That only meant that the blissful sensation that was senselessness was gone.
"LOOK AT ME!"
The voice took on a face as she reluctantly opened her eyes to see the fire in Michael's. With the feeling coming back, so did the anger and some of her strength. She tried to jerk her chin away but he held on tightly. "Go to hell. Let go of me."
He felt the fists forming by the tensing of her right arm. There was not very much power behind the punches she gave him to his chest and shoulders. They still stung though. He let go of her arm and chin. They grappled for several moments till he had an arm pinned behind her and the other against the SIM shell. "What is your problem?"
Nikita gave a small scream and Michael let go. It surprised him. She didn't try to move away but grasped the sides of his open jacket with her hands. With a strangled cry, she said, "It hurts so much I can't stand it. I want it to stop. I can't stop feeling like you do!!! I want them..."
Michael pulled her into a hard hug, burying her head against his chest. Her tirade was muffled by the material and the body under it. Closing his eyes, he shut down his own feelings that were responding to the explosion of hers. Here was not the place for the pain to be let out. "Don't let them see it, Kita. They'll use it. The feelings don't stop, they're just buried. They still hurt....." He felt the eyes on the back of his head and knew they were being watched. He was breaking his own rule here. But hadn't they broken the rules too? Maybe they need to understand how much damage has been done.
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Madeline frowned as she watched the scene from one of the surveillance monitors in Strategics. Neither was handling things as well as she had hoped. Michael was trying to shut down and Nikita was getting self destructive. And she wasn't happy with her own reactions. She was bitter and defensive. There had been few logical reasons for her argument with Operations at breakfast.
The barely audible words she heard from Michael jerked her back to focus on the screen again. "Katie said soon. Keep thinking that." She boosted the sound, sure of what she had heard and hoping for more.
"You lied to me. Both of you. All of you." Her eyes narrowed in anger and her lips formed a hard thin line. The truth was out but not revealed as she had wanted it to be. She also knew now that Claude had been in on the lie too and had been in contact with them. Her bitter feeling became an aftertaste in her mouth. All she had done to give them the chance to be together and now all this animosity and deception. She was disappointed and felt the strong pinch of anger. Two other sets of eyes joined hers as Michael lifted Nikita's eyes up to his.
Doyle and Operations stood quietly to the side of Madeline. Operations' angle made it hard for him to accurately see the monitor. But he could see blonde hair, it told him all he needed. Doyle didn't have the same problem. He could clearly see Michael and the woman he obviously was intimate with. The way they touched told him that.
Michael's whisper barely came over the speaker. "Believe in someday. D'ac?" The screen went blank and Madeline's head turned to snap out a comment. Operations stood to the side, a remote in his hand. Anger flared inside her and showing on her face when she realized that Operations had company. She slammed the door shut with a hearty bang.
"Retraining going well?" Operations tried to cover the scene they had just seen as best as he could.
Madeline's pick up of his intentions were flawless. "Yes she's ready."
"Good." he answered back.
Doyle watched the exchange and sensed something more significant under the feint. Obviously there was a close bond between Michael and the woman on the screen. Recruited as he had been had necessitated the breakup of him and Gillian. He repressed the smile that came whenever he thought of her. Crow black hair, deep cornflower blue eyes, soft whispery voice, head strong and loving. They had met at 13 when her parents moved there from Wicklow and immediately connected. He could still hear Operations' admonishments about relationships within the organization. Telling her goodbye had been the hardest thing he had done up till then. Had the rule been reversed or was it being flaunted?
"Doyle, you've grown up."
Madeline's remark drew his attention away from the replay of the scene in his head and to her. It was intended to do so, he went with it and tried to reacquaint himself to the world that had certainly changed in the past 15 years. "And I wasn't then, Madeline?" He walked over and gave her a brief hug. Brushing his lips against her proffered cheek, he straighten up and smiled at her.
"Then you were an incredibly brave and handsome young man. Still just as handsome perhaps older and wiser, I think." She reached up and stroked the strands of gray at one temple. "A bit of gray, my dear? You did a great thing by taking your father's place. We ended a lot of pain and suffering with that. I'm sorry it took your carefree youth in the process. A lot of children lived because of what you've done. Does that help to pay you back for a little of your own pain and suffering?"
Unconsciously he reached up and touched the area she had. He had been gone a long time but Madeline still unsettled him. A reaction he had attributed to being a boy turned out to be something different. "Just my wisdom showing." Doyle smiled quickly and looked to the floor. Getting pulled from everything he had known at 16 and shoved behind prison walls had been agony. But it had stopped that animal. Section One had been able to get to him and stop his damage. Doyle clapped his hands together and sat on the table looking from Operations to Madeline. "So why was I pulled?"
"Do the ongoing peace talks make sense to you for a reason? Or perhaps Mo Mowlan? You were downgraded, that's all. We've decided that your 'career' is going to go a different way." Operations looked over at Madeline for affirmation which she gave with a nod of her head.
"With the events of the past few months both internally and internationally, some of the long term assignments were re-evaluated. Maze was one of them. You did excellent work there. You helped save thousands of lives with the intel you were able to feed us over the years. Internally we've lost a good number of our highly efficient and successful operatives. We found it necessary to re align things. Even to promoting some to levels before they are entirely ready."
Doyle was taking this with a grain of salt. They were right about the peace progress there. He hadn't heard a good tidbit in a year. He had been feeling eyes lately anyway and was getting worried that finally he had been made. He was curious about this Michael who definitely held sway here. He didn't remember him at all from when he had started. "Like Michael"
Operations chuckled and Madeline shook her head. Operations continued. "Michael? No, he was more that ready to be promoted. He has done an excellent job in his position. When he took over his position, he was the youngest to ever do so. But he was also the best. Not entirely the usual recruit. He was originally on the other side. I won't however go into details about that. Suffice to say he is very important around here."
"How long has he been here?" Doyle's curiosity was certainly stirred now. What is this guy's story?
Madeline gave that enigmatic smile that he hadn't seen in years but still managed to raise the hair on the back of his neck. "A little over 14 years. He is an invaluable member of the team. He's at the core of Section One, you might say."
"What's her story then? She seemed a little upset. Awfully emotional type for this place, isn't she? How long has she been here?" Madeline smiled that damn smile again. Doyle resisted the temptation to smooth the hair down on his neck. It had to be standing straight out.
"Nikita is special. She was very raw when she was recruited but Michael has worked wonders with her since she came here about 4 years ago. She has advanced very nicely and somewhat quickly too. They work almost flawlessly together, like partners you might say. Her obvious emotional side has its benefits for Section One. It's her place with Michael's team that you'll be taking."
"Where is she going?" Obviously they were breaking up a valuable team here. Without saying anything to him, Doyle had figured out that Michael and Nikita had paired up not only as partners in the field but paired off outside the Section. Not an easy mix for Section One, one that he knew was not even allowed. But for some reason for these two it was. He felt no jealousy yet over it just was curious about it. Why were these two so special?
Operations took over. "She's manning a third 'team' which we've reworked. They're more experimental and flexible now. They move in and out of teams as needed and of course work their own profiles. I also plan to use it as a training ground."
"You use only two full scale teams now?"
"Actually we had moved away from that practice but Michael formed them again with there being others that moved in and out of them. I made it official again that's all. Until recently there had just been names so we could designate in the fields. We're working on creating more. The second is commanded by Simon. He was also one of Michael's... Anyway.... You've moved up in the world my boy. We need to find you a place to call home. City ok with you? I believe that there are some very nice loft apartments in the area Simon has moved into. In fact I think he mentioned there were some left in his building. He said he has been quite comfortable in his. Shall we go for a look? Figure out what we need to get together for you and things like that. You need a cover life too. Madeline, what profession seems to fit our new member of the 'family'? We need to make you feel like part of a team again, Doyle. What are your thoughts?"
Doyle smiled at the two of them. They had moved the topic of conversation away from Michael and the woman. Nikita they had called her. First order of business Doyle, get to know the woman. She might be useful. He stretched his hands out in front of him cracking his knuckles. Well Section One, a prodigal son has returned.
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The second early day in a row, this one not be choice had Nikita in a rather unpleasant mood. She had spent the night alone at the cabin, only getting a few hours sleep. A dream of the children and the events at Claude's had woken her from where she had fallen asleep at the dining room table. She had spent the rest of the night awake and sitting on the deck, staring out at the water waiting for him.
He never showed and she never slept. Even before dawn she had come back here, only to see him in the exercise room. He was lifting weights and by the look on his face deep in thought. They couldn't have been good either because of the way he glared at the floor. She had decided it would be best to leave him be. So she'd hauled Darcie out of bed and Jonesy had just been unlucky enough to be hanging around.
Nikita aimed a slap at Darcie's head as she moved past her with Jonesy. "Where's the brain, kid?" The slow blues music poured out of the speaker as the other operative tried to compensate for Darcie just not knowing the dance steps.
A loud yawn from Darcie was coupled with a retort of "Back in my quarters with the covers pulled over it."
"Smart ass." They passed her a second time. With a sound of disgust she pulled them apart and pointed to the floor across from the doorway. "Sit now and watch. Memorize! Got it?"
Darcie snapped a neat salute at Nikita. "Ja, Kommissar! She plopped down on the floor and grinned up at Nikita, avoiding the kick aimed at her rear. She knew she would pay later but it was fun to tease Nikita. The last mission had been very long and difficult for both Nikita and Michael. Especially for Nikita, she could see it in her eyes and the weary way in which she looked and held herself. She wanted her friend to smile at her if nothing else.
Ignoring the grin from her 'audience' while making a silent promise to get her back later, Nikita choose another track on the C/D. Gracefully, she put her arms out to Jonesy. "Shall we, sir?"
A huge grin broke the usual sour face he had. Darcie was shocked at the change in his features. He wasn't that bad looking when he smiled. "I've waited a long time to hold you in my arms, Nikita."
"Savor it buddy. Probably won't happen again anytime soon. And keep hands where they belong." Jonesy heaved a dramatic sigh and they slowly began to dance. Darcie watched as he and Nikita crossed the room. The lead changed as the different instruments flowed in and out of the piece. Jonesy was a good dancer but he was great as he worked with Nikita. A movement in the doorway caught her attention. She looked up with a smile, expecting Michael who lately was never very far from Nikita when they were both in Section.
The man in the doorway was new and he stopped her heart. Michael was the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen but she knew there would never be a chance at him so she just admired his looks. Nobody she had seen in Section One, among the others who had floated in during the past few months or on the outside as she recalled even came close. But this guy was close and Darcie hoped fervently he was going to stay around a while. However right now he was studying Nikita dancing.
Doyle watched the blonde Madeline had called Nikita work the floor with the male operative. She was almost as tall as he was and nicely built. She moved sensuously in time with the music, understanding the rhythm of it. Her hair was a golden blonde, long and straight if it hadn't been in the topknot fashion she was sporting right now. He thought he saw brilliant but cool blue eyes. She was a beautiful woman.
Red would have been the perfect color for her. Right now she was dressed in a pair of slim black knit pants and a chocolate brown and black knit top. It had an intricate braid design cut out of the material that covered her shoulders and trailed down over the back to the top of her spine and then further down to where he couldn't see. Knee high black mid heeled boots completed the look. And he appreciated the look, he couldn't think of a male he knew that wouldn't.
Judging by the notes of the song, it was just about over. A bit of the devil possessed him for an instant and he reacted impulsively. On the last note, he moved forward and stepped in front of her. Grabbing her by the hips he pulled Nikita into step with him. They danced more intimately than Nikita had with Jonesy. Darcie's mouth dropped as she watched them. Two thoughts crossed her mind. God, he's hot. Then the red caution flag sprung up. But if Michael sees this, he will blow a gasket!
Nikita tried several times to extricate herself from the dance but was unsuccessful. Gently but dramatically Doyle dipped Nikita, cradling the back of her head, eyes locked on hers. Darcie could see laughter in his and strong annoyance in Nikita's. Suddenly he snapped her upright and kissed her. Darcie saw the stance Nikita took as she twisted herself away, a hand wiping across her mouth. She felt a momentary wave of panic from Nikita. Scrambling to her feet, Darcie came to stand just behind her, sensing the same threat as her mentor and more than ready to back her up if needed.
Doyle let a smile curve his lips. If she's bagged the Iceman I met in Operations' office, this Nikita has to be like a blast furnace. And by the look in the eyes, I think she is. "By the way, my name is Doyle. And you lasses might be?" He let his accent thicken, it never failed to charm. He liked the way the imp on the floor had changed characters. She was just behind Nikita and clearly on the defensive. Just like a little watch dog
Darcie opened her mouth to speak but shut it at the first finger Nikita held up in the air. Nikita cast a quick look to the young girl who slipped over to the doorway and stood there for an instant before she disappeared into the hallway. Impressed over her silent control of the girl, he inclined his head to her. "She listens to you, Nikita, I believe that is your name. You let her out without a leash?"
Resisting the urge to wipe her mouth again, she folded her arms across her chest. "Because she knows better than to push me too far. And she doesn't need a leash. She's her own mistress." She tossed her head at the door and Jonesy beat a path out as well.
"You're quick and sharp. I like that in a woman. Good dancer, too. So I've got to fill your shoes for Michael. This ought to be fun."
Nikita raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Good luck on finding the fun. I never did. Word to the wise Michael, isn't either." She turned to the recorder and flipped it off. Ignoring him, she started to walk by, intending to leave as well. Doyle started to grab at her as she passed him. Next thing he knew his forehead and nose were shoved painfully into the wall and his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. Her other arm was braced against the back of his neck, keeping his face against the wall. One leg was wrapped around his own, if she twisted every ligament and tendon connected to his knee would snap.
Doyle didn't try to struggle away. Movement meant some pain and maybe even some injury with his present position. Anyway he wanted to see what she was going to do. Her voice hissed in his ear and right then he knew that she had no interest in him at all. "You don't touch me again. I don't welcome your interest and I don't intend to tender you any. A woman doesn't like it when a man touches her without an invitation. You weren't and will not be getting that invitation from me. Got it? Stay away or I'll cancel you myself. AND.... I only warn once." She thrust herself away from him which only ground his face harder into the wall. Spinning on her heel, she was out the door.
Doyle whipped around himself. His temper was never easy for him to keep and had him in trouble constantly in prison. And as usual it got the best of him. There was no way he was going to allow himself to be bested by a woman or threatened either. He stormed out the door after her. "YOU GOD DAMN BITCH! GET BACK HERE! "
She stopped in the middle of the common area. Michael stood up from a chair at the back of ops and started forwarded when he saw it was Nikita being cursed at. She stood with her back to Doyle's approach until he was almost upon her. Madeline was coming through the hallway exit into the common area when she heard the shout. She had recognized Doyle's voice and wondered what had set him off. The time in prison certainly had done nothing to cure his temper.
He was almost on Nikita when she turned and at the same time reached into the top of her boot. Michael saw the movement and pushed several ops people out of the way to get forward faster. "NIKITA, NO! DOYLE, BACK OFF!" She had the gun out and cocked before he had even moved two feet. Doyle brought himself up short, still snorting with anger but for the moment choking back the urge to pay her back. She was armed, he was not.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nikita could see Madeline. "Call off your new dog, Madeline. I'm not his new chew toy."
Doyle's face got darker. It was impossible to hold his hand back. He started to swing only to hear Michael's voice ring in the now silent room. "STRIKE AND YOU'RE IN ABEYANCE!!" Doyle paused, he had just got back to the real world again and now his temper was jeopardizing it.
Madeline came up beside him, resting a hand on his upheld arm. "It's not worth it," she said softly.
A sarcastic smile crossed Nikita's face. "What pound did you pick him up from? I think they missed the distemper shot." She saw the wrath smoldering bright in his eyes again. "Warning number two.....and this is rare....I bite and I bite hard. This bitch has teeth and is not afraid to use them!"
"Anytime you think you're ready, honey, I'm all yours." He slapped his hands against his thighs and stepped backwards, arms spread to his sides. It was time to set the tone that he was not going to take anything sitting down from any of them here. He had paid some heavy membership dues already. It was time to enjoy some of the privileges those dues afforded.
Nikita's smile became sardonic. She cast a quick look at Michael who shook his head and turned away. He was leaving it in her hands. Good, he was letting her fight her own battle here. Bringing her eyes back to her target, she pulled the trigger. Doyle flinched and then glared at her. The only sound had been the hammer hitting the strike pad. She tossed the gun at him and walked away. Madeline let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Others knowing the dispute was over, went back to their activities.
"Nikita!" she called out. "Where are you going?"
"Home. I've had enough for today. Call me if you want me. You've got the number." Fiddling with the topknot, she pulled the tie and it cascaded down her back as she sauntered away.
Madeline looked up as she felt eyes on her. Operations looked down from the loft and so did Michael. The younger man listened passively to an obvious harangue from Operations, who pointed down at Doyle and then in the direction that Nikita had taken. The message was clear: control the situation or clear it up. She suppressed a grim frown. Doyle wasn't exactly an ingredient they had needed in the mix at the moment. But maybe it would give both Michael and Nikita something to focus their energies on instead of what they had been through.
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Michael tried her first at the cabin. There was no answer at it and the phone in the car had also rung to no avail. That meant she was at the apartment. He didn't know what had precipitated the confrontation but he had been ordered to make sure it didn't happen again. Either that or the abeyance threat would become reality for somebody. He was annoyed at her not answering the phone either. That was a blatant disregard of protocol which he would catch the comments for somehow. Being in not a particularly good mood at the moment, he rapped his knuckles loudly on her door. "Nikita."
Nikita opened her eyes and looked towards the monitor. Even from her upside down position on the floor near the stairs she could see it was Michael. Taking a deep breath and another bite of the strawberry in her hand, she called out, "You've got a key!" Then mumbling under her breath, "Might as well use it. I'm not about to open that damn door. Your fingers work just not on a damn phone..." She swung her legs off the cushion of the settee and got up. The world took a moment to right itself. "Note that yoga and wine do not mix."
She ignored the opening and the closing of the door. It was more important not to give in to the slight waviness of the rug. With a bit of a hesitant step, she padded over to the counter and grabbed the glass from it. Michael watched her taciturnly with his back against the door. She raised another glass at him. "Want some, handsome?" she asked in a husky voice.
"Yes, thank you." He watched as she pulled the wine bottle from the refrigerator and opened the stopper. Her movements and voice indicated that this was not the first bottle she had opened or drunk her way through. Feeling annoyed at her continuing self destructive reactions to the situation, he stepped forward and reached around her, guiding the bottle in her hand. "Does getting drunk help?"
The idea had been to get numb again but with him standing behind her the way he was, it began to seem like a stupid idea. She let go of the bottle and turned around to face him, arms winding up around his neck. He didn't move after he set down the bottle, just looked into her eyes, trying to understand what was going on in her head. "I thought it would but I'd rather have you for a while instead. Besides, wine worked very nicely the last time" She made a line of small kisses from his ear lobe to his chin. "Remember?"
Nikita tried to kiss him on the mouth but found herself alone against the counter as he grabbed his glass and walked to the center of the room. Keeping the grin off her face wasn't easy. She had felt his reaction before he pulled away. Nikita sashayed over to the audio system and switched it on. Bluesy notes oozed out of the speakers carrying a deep sensuous female voice with them.
Michael finished the glass of wine and put it down on the coffee table. As he straightened up, Nikita wrapped her arms around him and started to move in time to the music. With hands on both her hips, he tried to make her stand still. "I want to know what happened with Doyle."
"He danced with me and then kissed me. I made sure he knew I wasn't interested. Explained the proper way to treat a woman. He didn't like it. End of story." She leaned up, kissing him softly, hoping for a response. As she came back down on her heels, a pout was starting on her face. She tried again and he pulled his mouth away.
"Stop it. Not now. The stunt with the gun was stupid and not necessary." Michael tried to keep himself from reacting to her but it was a losing battle. She knew just what to do and how to do it to make him respond as she wanted.
"It was a warning. I told him hands off and I wanted to make sure he understood me." There was a wistful tone to her already husky voice. Having been denied his mouth, she went back to his throat. Lazily she slid her arms from around his neck to the buttons on his shirt and begun to unfasten them.
As he caught her face in his hands, Michael said with a strained voice, "Understand this then. Stay away from Doyle. He is trouble. Don't start asking why either. Just do it!" He could tell her full attention was not with him but on him. Her fingers still working the buttons of his shirt. He could feel the light touches of her fingers on his skin and it was almost burned. She was succeeding in distracting him and his efforts to ignore her were proving more and more futile. "Stop acting so self destructive. We can not show any weaknesses. We can't let anything be our weakness. We survive on our strength. If we give in and stop fighting, we die. Do you comprehend the situation we are in at all?..... Do you?"
"I don't have it. I can't do it. Too hard. Other things are easier, more enjoyable..." Her senses were swimming. Only part of her head was comprehending him, the rest had shut down. All she wanted to was be with him. That way for just a while at least everything went away.
He gritted his teeth. He couldn't do it for both of them anymore. They were apart too often. "Focus and do it! I don't want to hear 'I can't'. Do you understand me?"
Nikita studied his face. He was serious and it showed, especially in his eyes. Reluctantly she whispered, "Yes, I'll try."
"Don't just try. Do." Michael roughly released her and picked up the glass. Going back to counter, he poured another glass of wine and took a long swallow, draining half of the glass. He went back to the settee and sat down, leaning his head against the cool cement of the stair block. The wine felt warm settling into his stomach. He was unsettled, he needed to feel back in control. Jealousy nibbled at him. He had to know more about what had lead up to the scene earlier between her and Doyle. "All he did was dance with you and then kiss you?"
He brought his head forward as he heard her glass hit the counter. She poured another full glass and drank it right down. "Yeah." Obviously he was not interested in making love so she decided to go back to her original idea. Nikita tilted the bottle to the glass again. Muttering to herself, "Maybe I should have seen what his offer was. Better than what's doing here..."
Michael decided she had enough. The comments had been muffled but he could tell by the way she looked she was peeved. He got up and pulled the bottle and glass away from her. They had both had enough. If they were called in, neither would be able to do the job.
"Enough," he said softly. Nikita caught his hand and brought it to her mouth. He closed his eyes as she tasted each finger and then his palm. "Kita....Don't..." She cut him off with a kiss to his open mouth. He could taste the wine on her tongue and lips and smell it as well as her shampoo of honey and vanilla. Wine this early in the day on an empty stomach was hitting hard and so was she. He wasn't going to win this fight at all. He dropped his hands back to her hips, following her lead and enjoying the way she was making him feel.
Nikita knew she was getting to him because he was resisting her less and responding more. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off of him. She ran her hands caressingly down his bare chest to his waist and hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants.
The music on the stereo changed and she drew him out into the room. She began to move in time to the music and he joined her. He broke the kiss and moved down her throat to the top of her shirt. Reaching up, he pulled down the zipper on the front of her sweater. She shrugged off the top and slunk her arms back up around his neck, tugging fingers up through his hair. She couldn't help but moan as his mouth followed the outline of her bra. Hands slid up her back, pressing her into him and then slowly back down, releasing half the catch on her bra as he went down.
Effortlessly he swung her up into his arms and headed to the stairs. Just over the threshold of the bedroom, he dropped her back to her feet. Nikita pulled away from him and slowly stepped backwards. Keeping eye contact with him, she reached up and untwisted the holder from her hair. It fell down around her shoulders.
Hungrily Michael watched her. She had learned every button and just when to push it. As she came close again, he stopped himself from reaching for her again. He wanted to see what she had in mind. A smile curved her lips as she reached for his belt and tugged it open. She popped the top button on his pants then jerked the belt out of its loops and moved away, pouting and shaking her head.
"What?" he asked in a low voice, his accent thick.
Nikita shrugged. "I don't really think you're as hungry as I am." Swinging the belt back and forth, she opened a drawer of her dresser and selected a shirt. Tossing his belt up on top, she turned and lifted an eyebrow at him. "No comment?" Michael was silent, eyes glittering darkly at her. With a sigh she started to shrug again as she began to turn away. She gave a little exclamation of surprise and delight when he lifted her up against the dresser.
"You need words...." he moaned as his mouth trailed down her torso. Her breath caught in her throat, the sensation intense. He twisted in place and dropped her onto the bed, falling with her. Pushing her down into the mattress and tangling fingers in her hair, he taunted her with light gentle kisses.
"Not fair to tease a hungry woman." she whispered intensely
His answer was a kiss that was hard and rough. "I'll show you who's hungry."
A wicked smile crossed her mouth, "God, I hope so...."
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Chapter 4
The man bent down to open the damper on the old woodburning stove. His hair, black and shiny with many touches of gray was cut conservatively and parted on the side. The jutting jaw and a hawk nose made him seem tough but the soft lips belied that. His copper toned skin showed the paths experience had taken him down. His clothing was simple, jeans and a tan workshirt, no jewelry. He appeared uncomplicated and complex at the same time. His dark brown eyes glittered not only with curiosity but with life. A life that had seen much and was not happy with some of it. To the point where it troubled him and made him uneasy.
There had been no freezing temperatures or even a slight frost. Most would not even think of lighting a fire so early in the fall. But his spirit was cold and his body responded in kind. He hugged the heavy woven blanket around himself tighter. The images were impossible to keep out of his mind's eye. They were vivid and powerful. He sat at the table in the center of the room and took a sip from the mug in front of him.
The sounds of the car's brakes still hung in his ears. The sight of the car laying on its roof, wheels spinning and flames licking at its bottom appeared as soon as he lowered his eyelids. He allowed them to play out again. The woman who laid in the brush had her golden blonde hair tangled with weeds. In the dream her eyes had opened as he touched her and he stared into blue eyes that reminded him of the sky above. Slowly the hair had turned white and he realized that he was staring into the eyes of a white wolf.
He heard a whine and looked up. In the dense shadowed trees he could make out the shape of another wolf. It came forward, emitting deep guttural growls. It came to the clearing before the car and snarled at him. Snapping at him and showing its teeth, it stalked forward. It was black but the eyes that stared back at him were green and glistened like the grass in the meadow covered with the morning dew. They reflected the light and gave the wolf an otherworldly quality.
He looked at the wolf's chest. It was bloody and looked like it been slashed open. The animal kept snapping, snarling and growling at him. He kept his position until the wolf was scant inches from his face. The teeth flashing in from of his nose. He could smell the blood from the wound on its chest and the odor from its breath, hot and putrid on his face. He closed his eyes for an instant as death was only the same instant away.
A groan made him open his eyes. The wolves were people. The black wolf was now a man in black clothes, head down and stroking the golden hair of the woman. He could not see the man's face but he could hear him groaning in pain. Then there had been a scream filled with agony and loss that filled the woods, he had looked around. Glancing back to the man and woman to see their reaction, he found himself alone. Both the people and the car gone. The spirits had released him at that point and he had come back to the material world.
Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his face. Through his hands he mumbled, "Raymond White-shadows, they speak to you. You need to remember who you are and understand the tongues that speak to you. They will not accept being denied any longer. The Do-ya-da-no are looking for a go between again." They was giving him a warning, his grandmother would have said. He just wished he knew what he was supposed to heed a warning about. "Let's see how well you mess this one up!"
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The ringing of the phone woke both of them up. Nikita leaned over Michael to grab her phone. From the living room, they could hear his. With a muttered curse, she moved away from him so he could get his.
"Yes?" she said softly into the mouth piece. She could hear Michael answering his own .
"Josephine?" Madeline's voice was neutral and low keyed.
"I'm here" It was strange to hear Madeline on the other end. For so long it had always been Michael's....
"Come in." The dial tone started in her ear and she flopped her arms over her head. So much for a relaxing evening at home.....
Michael's head appeared in the doorway and she could see he already had his pants on. He hadn't left the room with them.... His tone of voice left no room for more speculation. "Get going. We've got 30 minutes before we've got to be there."
He had a time limit, plainly he had been given more information. Then he must have been told what the call was about as well. "What's going on?" She yelled after him as he moved back away from the door.
"It's about Heywood's disk. We're going on standby." His voice came from the living room. Pulling the sheet from the bed, she got up and started pulling some clothes from the dresser. "For how long?" she called out to him. Hearing him sit on the bed, she turned to see him shrug as he buttoned his shirt.
"Depends on what they've developed. We'll find out when we get there."
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Various members from all three teams sat around the briefing room table. Michael and Nikita sat in their accustomed chairs but this time Simon was next to them instead of towards the end of the table. That's where Doyle sat, his line of sight perfect to watch all three. He had met Simon just before the meeting had been called together. Further introduction was short circuited by the arrival of Michael and Nikita. It seemed to Doyle that the two of them had arrived together. Simon had immediately gravitated towards them and exchanged quiet words.
Doyle half listened to the meeting. They were trying to shut down a member of the mafiosi that was leaking out of Russia. His name was Yerik Kassov and he hailed from St Petersburg. Having made a fortune in the past two years in drugs and real estate deals in Paris, he had come here and was using the area as a launching pad for excursions into certain concerns in the Balkans. He was a midlevel player but had strings attached that went up and down. Eliminating or at least damaging him damaged the others. They planned to lure him out with an attack on one of his most loyal and most favored lieutenants, Parlin Lerinoff.
Knowing he was not actually going on this mission allowed him to observe the briefing and the interaction of the operatives through it. Simon asked a question and it drew Doyle's attention back to the man. He was easily 6'3'' if not taller. Having not hit the 6' mark right on the nose, he felt a twinge of jealousy, had since childhood. It had been distressing to be the shortest year in and year out at school, even among the girls. The growth spurt during the end of his junior cycle had been a welcome relief.
Simon was a strong well built man, the shape of his arms beneath the fabric of his shirt was ample evidence of that. Though obviously of African descent, he bore an exotic shape to his eyes and cheek bones. His skin appeared tanned but the shading and toning were off. His eyes were so dark they almost appeared black. And the texture of his hair was also unusual, thick and wavy. It was glossy enough to look wet as if he had just stepped out of the shower. He had the slight length in back held in a leather strap. The thin mustache he wore served only to add to his slightly exotic appearance.
Doyle had watched him moving earlier and marveled at the gracefulness of the man. Simon was a big man who moved like a dancer. He would have been great to have as a back up in a mess hall fight in prison. He could only guess that the man he studied was just as accomplished in the field. Knowing that Simon had up to recently been on Michael's team and had been there for 5 years told him that he knew his job and knew it well.
A comment from Michael changed his focus. There was nothing but a neutral expression on his face at the moment. Michael's attention was riveted on the tactical display that floated above the table. He and Simon continued to ask questions which Doyle gradually tuned out. Allowing him to absorb the flow of interaction among the people at the table. He couldn't help but notice how when Michael spoke there was an easy focus by all on him but it tensed when Operations began. It was a fact to note, might be useful to him in the right situation.
Nikita remained quiet for the most part, as if absorbing. She studied the display as the rest did but was more active about it. The blonde was not the most relaxed person he had ever seen. She liked to fidget. Or just detested briefings. Right now her chin was on her doubled stacked fists as she analyzed the bottom floors. As Operations announced the number of operatives going, her head came up and she interrupted the monologue.
"You can't be serious."
"You've got a problem with that, Nikita?" Operations looked straight at her. Doyle had expected her to back down with such intense attention focused on her. She returned it to him. Not shy in the least. He had to admit, she had guts.
"Yeah, how many inside are we looking at?"
"Unknown as yet."
She leaned back in the chair, fingers laced across her stomach as she frowned. "Guinea pigs again." Doyle watched as Simon shot a quick sideways glance at her that said he agreed with her and approved of the fact that she didn't hesitate to make her dissatisfaction known.
Operations darken slightly, "If you..."
Michael's voice was pitched low but carried well. "We'll deal with things as they develop. Time frame?" And the ebb of the briefing returned to its original form.
Suddenly Doyle realized the meeting was over. He watched the apparent ease between Simon and Nikita. He had wrapped his arms around her from the back and leaned his chin on her shoulder, talking to Michael. The Iceman offered no hint of annoyance or jealousy over the familiarity the other two had. As he moved passed and out of the room, he could hear their exchange....
"....protect me from the brute." He hadn't been close enough to hear all of Simon's sentence. He saw the small smile on Michael's face and the laugh that trickled out of Nikita.
"You can't be afraid of him, you big baby." She elbowed Simon lightly in the stomach.
"Princess, he dislocated my arm." There was a pout on Simon's face. Doyle was struck by the nickname, they usually meant affection of some sort for the recipient. Obviously Nikita was well liked by many of the operatives, based on what he had overheard so far. They seemed to treat her with trust and understanding and she returned it to them. It was much the same thing he had seen from Michael towards others here at Section. He didn't want to admit it but Michael was damn good and respected at what he did. Doyle didn't think he could do it, at least not now. The future was a different story, he could write it anyway and with or without anyone as he wanted. And that included Michael.
"You walked into it! And you weren't focused. Your mind was elsewhere." He heard the mild rebuke in Michael's voice. Simon was a favorite but not above a push here and there.
"First of all, you ordered me to work out with you! And you cheated with that smart ass comment about ...I'm not going to say it with her here." Doyle watched as Michael smirked at Simon, who started to make a gesture that got slapped down by Nikita.
"Not fit for my ears and you were under orders. Fine, let go. Move out of my way." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nikita extricating herself from Simon's arms and push Michael to the side. "I got work to do... You two go play nice with Walter. I want my usual setup."
"Of course, I'll see to it for you." Michael said as she walked away from them. Simon sat on the table, his expression suddenly serious and the conversation dropped into decibels where he couldn't understand them. The dynamics of the relationships within Section One puzzled him. He saw things that were out of place and from what he had been told years ago not allowed.
But here he was seeing them occurring. There were good friendships. There was also at least one operative male-female relationship. He also knew that the old man Walter had a lady and Birkoff was involved with the almost bald chick in ops. Though he had heard from somebody the hairstyle was not by choice. She's been scarred in a fire and couldn't grow any. Make-up covered the damage on top and plastic surgery on the face did the rest. Doyle had to admit, he had wondered by her hands were so red and wrinkled looking.
He was actually liking the short amount of time he'd already spent in ops. It was a great place to pick up bit and pieces of info that gave him some inkling of what was going on around here. Caroline's 'accident' as it was termed had only happened a few years ago, she had been a field op but that was all he had been able to get out of the redhead who worked ops closely with Birkoff and Caroline. She was a wonderful talker and that fit with Doyle just right.
He gave a short silent grunt. The special privileges centered around Michael though. For some reason he was special to Section One and the rules, because of that reason, didn't seem to apply to him. Or those involved with him. Doyle liked the idea of that but not that Michael had then and he didn't. Two ways to get them ...earn them or challenge Michael for them... now what sounds like it would be more fun.....
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"Hey, what you doing?" Caroline jumped at the voice in her ear. She had been so intent on her screen that she hadn't heard Birkoff behind her. She gulped guiltily as she quickly escaped out of the application on the terminal. He couldn't know about this.
"Just monitoring a couple of things. Didn't realize it was so late." She stood up and stretched, avoiding his eyes. "Things have been quiet. Those tests you wanted run are done." She started to grab her mug and the shirt that hung on the back of the chair. Birkoff caught her hand before it cleared the chair back.
"Hey you're not going to stay and talk. Just take off again? Rollie, what's wrong?" He looked into sad brown eyes and it bothered him. She was pulling away from him and more into herself.
"Don't call me that ok?" She snatched her hand back. "I've just got a lot on my mind. Lay off all right?" As she turned he thought he saw a tear on her cheek.
He made another grab at her. "Caroline, what are you..." She eluded his grasp and hurried off. "...crying about?" Birkoff ended quietly. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the terminal to see the screen blank and as he sat and hit sign in, locked. He made a puzzled face then figured there must still be something glitching the system. Well, he'd have to look at those test results she had for him. Maybe the answer was there. With a sigh, he leaned back in the chair and starting picking at the lock.
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The beer tasted good. It was the right temperature and the atmosphere of the place reminded him of places back home. He hadn't been there in a long time either. Maybe he should visit there soon. Thinking of the havoc wrecked there by his father however made it seem like not the best idea he had today. Doyle refocused on Walter's question, trying to come up with an answer.
"I guess you could say I still feel that I haven't..... that I still owe for him."
"You can't adhere to the old father/son sins thing. He did his own thing. You don't owe anybody for that. He made his own choices. Maybe you need to make some for yourself?" Walter studied the young man who stared down into his beer. He had been given a chance to go back to the normal world but had decided to stay in the loony bin. He shook his head and frowned. There was such a sharp contrast between him and Michael and Nikita. They needed to be out of it and Operations refused to loosen the chains at all.
Doyle looked up at him. "I made the choice that makes me the most comfortable. That makes it the right choice, Walter, doesn't it?"
Walter shrugged and took another swallow of his beer. "Have to see how it plays out I guess. Listen kid.... I wanted you to meet with me for another reason. I need a couple of favors from you. It's in interest of keeping the peace around the place. Here they are. First, stay away from Sugar, ok?"
"Sugar?" He pushed his glass away. It had been a long time since he had drunk any quantity of beer much less any stout. Some little sprite had decided that its hammer fit the anvil shape of his head nicely and was starting to set up shop.
"Yeah, Nikita. Leave my girl alone. I'm telling you this for your own good. She's taken though we usually don't say that out loud." He polished off his own and pushed the mug to the center of the table.
"Your girl...taking 'em awful young aren't you ya old goat?" Doyle flashed a smile at his companion.
"No, not me, though she's fun to tease about it, gives it right back to me. Umm...I know there are certain rules for things within the Section. Certain dos and certain don'ts. Some enforced for all, some only for a few."
"And there are those for whom the rules are not applicable at all. Like Michael?"
Narrowing his eyes, Walter debated the meaning of Doyle's statement. He could tell already teaming the two together was not going to go smoothly. He and Michael were going to fit together like a square peg and round hole. Not. And he didn't think it was going to be over Nikita either. She had made that perfectly clear to Doyle. No, it was going to be a status thing. He was going to want what Michael had. It was time to fill the new member in on the family structure.
"I think I better get you up to speed on some of the stuff that has happened over the years. Michael is allowed and I use that word lightly to proceed the way he does because of what he is and what he brings with him. He is the best any of the organizations has had in a very long time if not ever. Though there are those who might have something to say about that. I feel it's an accurate statement."
Doyle tapped the top of the table in between them. "That is still no excuse for what I've seen and heard in the past few days. You know when I started the rules were rules. You broke them you were cancelled. No excuses given or taken."
Walter finished his beer and pushed it to the side. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "You started on the outside and you worked on the outside. Plus you've been out of the loop for a while. Things change. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don't..... Look I'm not making excuses or even trying to tell you what is right and what is wrong. I'm telling you what is and why it is according to my opinion. Don't make waves. Don't start anymore with her. And certainly don't start anything you can't finish with him. He's in charge and he has the authority to haul your ass downstairs if he wants to. This isn't a case of favorites any more. It's a case of grooming."
"Grooming? For what?"
"The future of Section One. You last long enough you'll be dealing with them instead of Madeline and Operations. He's able to fill either position at this point as we speak. Though personally I'd put him in Madeline's. Nikita will be close enough soon even though they won't admit it. She's my pick for Operations' post. They dislike each other so much because they're cut out of the same material. And that you can be damn sure no one will confess to that but the signs are there. Or else I've been out of my mind for longer than any test has ever shown."
Seeing that his remark didn't cause a reaction, Walter pulled his smile back off and went on. "It has been hell for most of us in the past 3 years. Things have gone down that I never dreamed would happen. Especially events in just the last 9 months or so. We've lost a lot of valuable people. We can't afford to lose anymore. Particularly those two, they are the driving force of this place at this point. You pull those two apart you pull this place apart. Just to repeat myself here. Don't make waves. Accept it as it is and deal with it."
Doyle leaned back against the cracked vinyl of the booth seat. Walter's expression was deadly serious. He wasn't about to accept any of this carte blanche. He had done that the last time with this place and paid for it for 15 years. Now he felt some control and he was not any where near ready to relinquish it. "What's the consequences if I don't do that?"
"You die."
"And if I'm not ready to do that?"
"You don't have any other choice."
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Simon's team had gone out and returned empty handed. Operations was more than frustrated and ordered Standby until further notice. That order had lasted for 10 days so far. Michael was beginning to wonder if its actual intention was to force the new teams to bond and work together better. He trained hard with his new team and they were finally reacting the way he wanted them to on most areas.
Doyle was proving to be the exception. He had a temper that he found harder to curb than Nikita's ever had. The latest incident had almost driven Michael to order reconditioning. Billie had done as the exercise had called for and Doyle took exception. He hadn't been there at the moment, he had been pacifying Operations by being chewed on again. Otherwise it wouldn't have happened.
Billie was due to be released from Medlab tomorrow, the concussion had not been serious. According to Christine, he had not needed that many stitches and his left kidney was only slight bruised. Ribs would be tender for a while but not broken. He just needed rest. But Michael still wanted to check on him. He felt responsible for the incident. The door slid open and he saw Simon leaning on the far wall. He was shaking his head.
"No, I can't tell you who. It's separate from here. She wants it that way and I intend to keep it that way."
"Then end it now." Both heads turned as Michael spoke. "It won't work. We don't need the complications, Simon. Outsiders don't mix well with Section operatives."
Simon looked down at the floor. Michael wasn't suppose to know about it. The only reason Billie knew was because of the push he was giving about the girl he had met downtown last week. He had blurted out about "the girl I'm seeing" and had to do fancy footwork to create cover story. That story would not work with Michael. "Don't worry about it." He looked up to see those cold green eyes boring into him.
"Just, do it Simon." He looked over at Billie. "I'm glad you're doing better. I hope you'll be back up to active ....."
Birkoff's voice interrupted them. "Michael?"
"Yes Birkoff."
"Get your team together. Movement on Lerinoff. You've got 90 minutes till loading."
"Thank you. I'll talk to you later Billie."
Billie nodded. "Good luck guys."
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The van ride was quiet except for some last minute parameters that Nikita was running with Michael. Doyle could just make out the whispered tones as fingers pointed and heads shook. Michael's dissatisfaction with his team had prompted Operations to make him run the mission instead of Nikita. Michael had insisted on her inclusion though, it was be a good experience for her had been his reasoning. Operations had acquiesced but demanded that Doyle be in the second spot. Nikita was a complimentary component.
"Birkoff?" Michael asked softly. He was having the same worries that Nikita had voiced at the briefing for Simon's mission. They were shackled with the same ones, only the odds were greater.
"Yeah?" Birkoff's voice sounded tinny in his ear. He didn't like that. It could be a problem in the field. If members of the team couldn't communicate they would be at an even greater disadvantage than just the numbers for and against they were facing now.
"I don't like the time window on this end. Is there another approach in profile?"
"No, you've got to go with this or we're out of luck till who knows when." There was the muffled sounds of a connection opening and then he heard Operations' voice.
"Do as profiled. We don't have the luxury of time here."
"Acknowledged." Michael couldn't repress his frown. There was no cushion for error, fear or inexperience. He had all three riding his coat tails on this one. He decided to leave Nikita at tactical even though he would have preferred her in the field. He needed somebody as back up he knew he could count on without question. She would decide and do whatever she thought necessary to get everyone out of the situation. On the other hand, it kept her 'complimentary'. He hated the doubtful feelings he had about the team and that included her having to be near in case. He had come to dependent on her skills added to his. Not the smartest thing in the world, now he needed to work through it.
Doyle watched as Nikita smacked her hand down on the table top. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "We don't have the people. This is not going to work. We're going to have to abort."
"We aren't critical. It's my call if I think it gets that way." He said softly back to her. Michael stood and looked around the van. "We go as instructed. Problems, deal with them on your own."
Nikita sat silently but kept her eyes on him. He looked back down at her. He understood without difficulty her unspoken words. They were going to lose this round. He had a feeling they already had. "Nikita runs tactical. Keep your lines open. If you get any hint at all of trouble, you relay it to me or her. Keep your eyes and ears open. Understood?" There were nods all around but not a single one was eager.
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The shot rang over his head the split second he hit the ground. Hearing the momentary quiet, he yanked himself to his feet and set off at a dead run. His objective was the van and the relative safety it gave him. As he rounded a large tree, he was clothes-lined and ended up on his back. Hardly able to breath, he pulled himself to his feet and brought up his weapon to defend himself. His balance was so unsure he was easy to slam into the tree.
A female voice hissed in his face. "You don't run. You stay and you defend. You help. Where are they? Communications are jammed. I can't get a fix and neither can Birkoff." Nikita kept herself from panicking. Michael had been working with them constantly, she kept telling herself. And Pollins was out there with him too. But she wasn't and that was what had her scared. Just seeing Doyle's reaction to the situation put her heart in her throat.
He shoved her off. His own panic quelled in response to her anger and orders. "You aren't in charge. We hit egress now. Go!"
She shoved her Berette up under his chin. "I'm tactical and I just elected us back-up. Which way?" The static burst in her ear.
"Abort. Egress now. Target found terminated." Michael's voice came weakly over the link.
Holding her hand to her ear, she rasped, "Fix on that signal Birkoff!"
"Got them. 300 yards west of your location. Exiting building now."
"Received. Tell transport to stay with us. Let's go Doyle." Nikita grabbed the front of his jacket and shoved him forward. He hesitated and Nikita leveled her weapon again. "Remember I told you I only warn once." He moved in the direction Birkoff had relayed to them, not happy in the least.
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The trip back was tense and stonily quiet except for a few moans from the three wounded operatives. And whispered words from Michael as he reported in to Birkoff. Doyle watched the man with his back to the rest of the van with the urge to say a number of things to him. None of which were nice or even remotely polite. Michael had treated him like a piece of sewage when he and Nikita found them. It only added fuel to the fire Nikita had ignited when she had forced him back into the perimeter of the assault.
Doyle had to admit that there was a definite easy of fit where Michael and Nikita were concerned. No words had passed between them but somehow he knew they had communicated with each other. Something like that only came by knowing the other person as well as you knew yourself. She had swung into the role of second that he had left abandoned without missing a step.
Between the two of them they had managed to get everyone functioning and out. Including Rohner who Doyle had been sure was dead. It was why he had run. They had found his body only to discover him very much alive, just badly wounded. In the firefight, Lerinoff had bought it. But from what he had heard Michael reporting to ops, it sounded like Lerinoff had been dead before they even got there.
They had not even all offloaded before the trouble started. "Michael! Nikita! My office! 5 minutes!" came a sharp angry voice from the end of the hallway. Casting a look at Nikita, the two of them went down to meet Operations. Not wanting to see the results, Doyle went with the remainder of the team. He knew his dues were coming later.
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"I want explanations now!" Operations paced the room. Nikita leaned against the railing, silent for the moment. She was going to let Michael go first and see what his angle was going to be. No sense causing more aggravation than there already was. Everything needed to be reworked now and that in no way made Operations a happy man. Like anything ever did. Slowly she unzipped her jacket. The office was warm and she began to fill a little closed in.
Michael stood stiffly in the center of the room, still in his mission outfit and armed with hands clasped in front of him. He debated with himself over how to proceed. Yes, Doyle had run but it had been a long time, maybe even the first time, he had faced that kind of chaos. He had been tested and stumbled. Now it was his responsibility as team leader and as part of the command structure to fix it. "We lost containment on the southern perimeter. Number of personnel were inadequate for the mission as profiled."
"You had enough! It was your team that was at fault! They were suppose to be ready!" Operations was inches away from him. Nikita knew it was partly the team's fault, most of which laid on Doyle's shoulders. But she also knew that there was no way they could have obtained the objective that had been set for the mission even with the team they used to have.
"Lerinoff was dead before we got there. It was 25 to 8. We were thin." Michael offered quietly. He knew he was right but he also knew he was not going to get Operations to see that.
"I don't want excuses! I want results!!" Nikita watched Operations get angrier as he tried to stare down Michael. She smothered a sarcastic chuckle. Would the man ever learn that there was no way to do that? Michael felt it showed weakness and that was something he never showed.
There had been too many guards around the complex to get anywhere near Parlin Lerinoff. There had only been 8 plus herself. Numbers from intel had indicated 25 at least. It was impossible to get in and get Lerinoff out with what they had. The intel had been skimpy and never indicated that anyone else had their sights on him. His death was caused by someone in his organization. Perhaps even by Kassov's orders. Maybe someone has sensed them and decided to cut off the affected limb before it spread to the whole tree. However, Operations and the mission profiler had to have been dreaming when.... Her attention refocused as she heard Michael start to talk.
"I take full responsib...." Nikita heard the deadness and lack of resistance in his voice. No it wasn't his fault and he wasn't going to take the blame for this one.
"No, put the blame where it belongs. You know where the fault lays as well as I do."
"Oh so you have an opinion on this too! And what were your people doing?" Operations turned his glare on her but didn't move from in front of Michael. The two of them were still stuck together like they had been cemented together. She had gone in and acted as back up as he was so used to doing for her. The role reversals these two were dancing with lately was beginning to irritate him.
Michael refused to look in her direction. He knew she was trying to deflect some of Operations' ire. He was also worried about how much she was going to say. Her bluntness had more than once proved to be her undoing. "Let it go, Nikita."
She stepped forward, stubborn as usual. Michael resisted the urge to look to the ceiling in exasperation. He stood like a statue instead, staring straight ahead into Operations' steely eyes. There was no fear in her voice but it was touched with a bit of anger. She stood so that she was right behind him and looking over his shoulder at Operations. "No. He wants to know so I'll tell him. Somebody needs to look at both sides. Yes the southern perimeter collapsed. You want to know why? Because we went with too few people who are not yet entirely ready to work the way Michael does. You rushed things! What's more important? Gaining the objective and getting the job done right or losing people to poor planning? That's what happened last time!! Or did you just conveniently forget!"
He almost choked as he heard her comment. Nothing about Doyle. She was laying the blame right on Operations' doorstop. Michael knew it was about to get loud. He resisted the temptation to step out of the way so they could go toe to toe. She was looking for a way to release her anger and Operations had neatly handed it to her.
Operations' voice had gotten harder but not louder. "And since when did you become such an expert on the number of people it requires to carry off a mission and getting the job done right, my dear? Shut your mouth unless you know what you're talking about."
"Shut my mouth? You're telling me to shut my mouth? Why because I might be right? Once again you might have made a mistake? Well why can't they be shoved down your throat the way you always shove them down ours? Yours too god damn good?"
"Nikita..." Michael whispered. She was getting into dangerous territory. He could tell by the set of Operations' jaw.
"You are one step away..."
Now Nikita stepped in front of Michael. She had wanted this, an actual confrontation with Operations ever since the trip back from Claude's. He had silently stalked away from them as the blades of the copter died down., leaving them both in stunned and bitter stillness. "A step away from abeyance? You plan to cancel me again? Go ahead do it and I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. I'll make every one of your last days as empty and bitter as you've made mine. And I'll make sure, even if it's with my last breath, that your son knows exactly the type of heartless cretin you are!"
"Don't threaten me unless you mean it Nikita."
"You don't think I mean it!" She moved faster than Michael had expected. Her hand was on his weapon and had out of its straps before he could react. She had the gun shoved into Operations' chest, grip first. "Take it and make good use of it. I'm right in front of you. I shouldn't be friggin' hard to miss. Go ahead, coward! I dare you! Use the damn thing! Put an end to it all!!"
Operations brushed the gun aside. "Calm yourself down right now!" Michael could tell by the set of her shoulders she was about to lose the last inkling of self control she had left. He needed to short circuit her and quickly. Reaching under her arm, he grabbed the gun and started walking towards the door. She turned, almost spitting like a cat only to see his back.
"Where are you going?" Operations barked at him.
"I have a team to debrief and practice sessions to assign. I'll wait to finish with you when you're free." He hadn't bothered to turn while speaking, he just kept walking.
Nikita was still seething as she turned back to Operations. Opening her mouth to start again, Operations came up so close she could smell the soap he used. His words left no room for argument or belligerence. His voice low and deadly calm, "Say another word and you will never get close to that child again." She could only glare at him in hatred while fear curled around her heart. He had picked just the right threat. And told her that they were in on it with Claude... that meant they knew about Katie too.
End of part two...
written by Tammy
Continue on to Perchance To Dream, part three
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