Written by Codename Ghost
Date: 6/28/97
He dreamed...
He dreamed that he stood before a metal door, looking into a room, seeing
Simone on the other side of the door, steam rising around her. Shouting
her name and pounding his fists against the door, trying to batter his
way through and reach her before she took that final step and overloaded
the generator, hearing her parting words--I love you, Michael--before she
was shrouded in smoke. There was someone behind him, reaching out to shake
his shoulder, saying his name, but he could never see who it was, all his
attention was focused on the door that barred him from the woman he had
loved and married...
"Simone..." he whispered and came awake as a hand prodded bare
shoulder, sliding up to brush brown hair from his eyes, blinking, he looked
up into the smiling face of Simone and felt a sudden inexplicable chill,
same as he always experienced upon waking from the dream to find that Simone
was curled up in bed beside him. And in those first few moments of disorientation
he found himself wondering which was the dream, Simone beside him or Simone
dying...
"C'mon, time to get up. We've got a busy day ahead of us." She
was already dressed, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, short black hair still
a little damp from the shower, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on
the cheek and grasping his hand to pull him up to a sitting position. "Get
dressed, I'll make breakfast. Don't forget--we need to talk to Pietro before
we head out." A pat on his cheek and she left the bedroom.
Running hands through his hair, Michael pushed the covers aside and swung
his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at his temples to dispel the
dull ache these dreams seemed to bring. Three times so far this week, and
in almost as many nights--he talked to Simone about them a little and she
had just smiled, giving him a kiss and telling him there was no need to
be worried about her, she wasn't about to leave him, asking as well if
he was taking his pills. At the bedside table was the small bottle of pills
to be taken when the headaches came but he had stopped taking them over
the last week, bit by bit, flushing them down the toilet if Simone was
insistent that he take them. He didn't like the way the pills muddled his
head, making it difficult to concentrate, even if the headaches and the
odd visions seemed to be coming on more and more...
Pushing himself up from the bed he picked up the pants lying on the dresser
and pulled them on, walked to the closet to pull a white dress shirt off
a hanger and put that on as well. Smothering a yawn he left the bedroom
and headed for the small kitchen, going behind Simone to slip his arms
around her waist. She leaned back into him and said, "What do you
want for breakfast? Eggs?"
"You." With her warmth against him he could forget all the doubts
and uncertainities he had, ever since he had woken two months ago with
little memory of anything but Simone. She was all that was familiar to
him in this strange place, with the people that called themselves the Legion,
his only link to a past that was gone. She had been the one to guide him
through it, telling him how they had joined the Legion years ago, and it
fit with what scant memories he still had, explained how he knew the things
he did and how easy it was to kill. And when somewhere in the back of his
mind a faint voice said what he was doing was wrong he was able to ignore
it...
"Silly." She pushed down the hands that slid under her shirt
and shivered when he kissed her throat, turning in his arms to twine her
own around his neck, drawing his head down to hers for a kiss that left
them both breathless. Simone broke it first, pushing at his chest with
a laugh, and said chidingly, "We have a time table to stick to, you
know that. There will be plenty of time for that later."
He gave a heavy sigh and let her go, leaving the kitchen to sit at the
table, elbows propping up his chin, watching Simone as she made breakfast,
trying to understand why he still felt this knot in his stomach at seeing
her. Sitting back in the chair, he looked up at the ceiling and experienced
yet another one of those strange flashbacks...
...Slumped back against the chair, hands cuffed behind him, sweat dampened
hair clinging to his face, bright light overhead, and figures circling
endlessly around him, speaking to him, words hard to understand but sinking
into a befuddled mind. So tired, so hard to concentrate, to deny what they
were telling him, because he wanted to believe at least part of it and
they knew that, used that small hold on his mind to pull him in deeper.
And coming into the light was Simone and he was shaking his head in denial,
no longer sure of what was real or a lie...
"Michael?" Dazed he lifted his head to look at Simone as she
set a plate before him, sitting on the edge of the table, expression sympathetic
as she extended a hand to stroke hair back from his face. "You've
been having the headaches again, haven't you?" She let out a sigh
as he gave a reluctant nod and stroked his cheek. "I know you don't
like taking the pills but it's for your own good. Promise me that when
we get back you'll take a pill and lie down for a while."
"I will." It might make things a little better, ease this nagging
doubt.
"Hurry up and eat, we have to go soon." Touching him on the shoulder
she went back into the bedroom and he looked down at the plate of scrambled
eggs, pushing them around on the plate, the strange memory destroying his
appetite.
From the outside the building appeared to be a run-down warehouse but the
interior had been converted to provide lodgings for the members of the
Legion and the two of them shared a loft on the second floor. All in all,
there were maybe thirty members that lived in the building, the numbers
varying from twenty to nearly fifty if there was a mission going on in
the area, and for the most part Michael's contribution had been to plan
missions. He had taken part in perhaps two or three missions, Pietro saying
that it was better for him to remain behind, that they could afford to
lose a few members but not him, and for this latest one he would be the
one to actually go in and take out the target, a man named Elliot Warfield
that was selling arms to rebel forces in a former Soviet state.
Warfield was to be attending a luncheon at the Westchester Hotel, according
to the local paper, and it gave them the best possible opportunity to take
him down. There would be a lot of people moving through the hotel and with
the invitations Pietro obtained, there would be six of them attending:
Michael, Simone, and four other members of the Legion. Scattered around
the banquet room, they would provide him with the cover he needed until
Warfield was dead and they would be able to escape in the confusion that
followed...
On the ground floor they met Pietro in his office, the other members of
the team already present, and Simone excused herself to change while Pietro
and Michael looked over the floor plans of the hotel for the last time;
Pietro was a man of average height, dark hair going gray, wearing dark
pants and a black turtleneck, jovial of manner but utterly serious when
it came to a mission. He had been as much help settling Michael here as
Simone had, easing him into the workings of the Legion and allowing him
to take the time to get back into the loop.
"You'll be three tables back from the podium, doing the hit won't
take that long. Three fire doors, two on either side of the podium, hit
Warfield and go out the nearest fire door. By the time they know what's
going on you'll be out of there, the others can go out with the other patrons.
If there's any trouble they'll back you up, just give the word."
"Warfield's speech starts at 1:15." Examining the floor plans
and fixing in his mind the locations of exits, Michael nodded and straightened.
"Just have a car ready."
"Of course." Pietro clapped him on the back. "You're doing
a great thing for the cause."
Michael reached out to take the shoulder holster lying on the table and
slipped his arms into it, sliding the gun that lay beside it into the holster,
pulled on the black suit coat over it and adjusted the holster so that
it wouldn't be noticeable. In the lapel of the coat was a microphone to
link him to the others and a receiver tucked into one ear, he would hear
what they hear and stay apprised of what was going on around him. All his
attention would be focused on the task at hand, he had to rely on them
to let him know of any possible dangers.
"Ready?" asked Simone as she came into the room, fastening pearl
studs on her ears, having forsaken the jeans and T-shirt for an ivory sheath
trimmed in white beads along the hem and bodice. She leaned in close to
him, slipping an arm around his waist, and for a moment he experienced
another weird flash of deja vu--Simone with her back against a wall, looking
up at him with wild eyes, he moving to her slowly, with the caution used
to approach a wild thing--but then it was gone, evaporating as quickly
as it had come.
Shaking himself mentally Michael said, "Let's go."
Leaving the building they split into teams and by 12:30 Michael and Simone
were at the West- chester Hotel, walking through the lobby. The doorman
had held the door open for them and smiled as they entered but Michael
could feel eyes on his back and found himself stiffening, not relaxing
even when Simone slipped her arm through his. As they headed for the banquet
room, he found himself watching the other people in the lobby, trying to
determine who looked out of place, and his eyes fell on a young blond woman
sitting on a sofa, wearing a navy suit, lifting her head from the magazine
she was reading to meet his eyes, a studied casualness in the gaze before
she returned her attention to the magazine.
He came to an abrupt halt, eyes flicking around the room, seeing others
around the room that appeared to be watching him as well, just a glance
in his direction and then away. Simone tugged on his arm and leaned in
to ask quietly, "What's wrong?"
"Something's...not right." It was sheer paranoia, to think that
they were watching him, and yet he couldn't shake it, the absolute feeling
that they were walking into a trap. Instinct told him to get the hell out
of there, warring with intellect that said he was overreacting, and he
slowly slipped Simone's arm out from his, knowing he needed that hand to
draw his gun. "I think we should break off--"
"When we're so close?" she asked in disbelief, resisting when
he tried to draw her back. "Do you know how long it's taken us to
get this far?"
The doorman was heading in their general direction and he could see a small
group emerging from the banquet room, four men chatting with each other
as they walked towards them, a glance over his shoulder showed others approaching.
Even the blond woman had gotten up from the couch and was walking towards
him, all at a slow deliberate pace, closing him in...he gave Simone a shove
and said, "Go!" Dragging the gun free, he fired at the four approaching,
the shot deliberately over their heads, and as they dropped to the floor
Simone fled for the nearest exit.
"Gun! Everyone down!" shouted a woman's voice just behind him
and he swung around, the gun up and finger tightening on the trigger as
he aimed it at the blond young woman that stood there. She had no weapon
in her hand, just stared back at him, light blue eyes calm, chin up in
a gesture that was achingly familiar, and the gun wavered in his hand.
He couldn't shoot her, he knew her, even if he couldn't recall her name...
And with his attention distracted he was open to attack, a blur of movement
to the right and a hand grasping his wrist to wrench the gun free even
as he was borne to the ground. The gun was gone and the man over him sat
on his legs even as two others came to hold him to the carpeted floor,
one ripping the microphone free from his lapel and tossing it aside.
"Don't hurt him." Over him the blond woman, her glance apologetic
and determined at the same time, eyes lifting to look as someone else approached.
Struggling vainly in his captors' hold, he went still as he saw the woman
approaching, holding in one hand a syringe, brown eyes studying him as
she said, "Hold him still."
At seeing the needle, he heaved upwards in a desperate attempt to get free
but another one came to hold him down while the woman caught a handful
of hair and turned his head to expose his throat, bringing the needle in
to inject him. A sharp pain and a nearly immeadite lassitude, the hands
loosened on him as he lay gasping, fighting against the effects of the
drug, and the blond woman's face swam into view, concerned, touching him
briefly on the cheek. "It's going to be all right, Michael. Don't
fight it."
How does she know my name? was his last coherent thought before the darkness
pulled him in.
Watching Michael as he lay on the floor, struggling to get free, a fear
she had never seen him display in his gray eyes, had been painful even
though Nikita knew it was the only way. They had been very lucky, the Legion
had actually fallen for the ruse of the luncheon and elected to deploy
their newest weapon, leaving Michael exposed for the first time since they
had first taken him seven months ago. Seven months in which they had assumed
he was dead--tortured and then exectued-- all until reports from various
contacts identified him as the guiding hand behind several Legion sorties;
whatever discussion had been done about Michael and his fate had gone on
behind closed doors and in the end Madeline had come out with the plan.
Elliot Warfield was involved in humanitarian efforts in a former Soviet
state, efforts that dis- credited the local rebels, and as such was considered
a target by the Legion, who had ties to that same group. A few articles
here and there, a mention of a luncheon that didn't exist, and the Legion
had snatched at it greedily, so eager to do the hit that they had brought
out Michael to perform for the first time in public. All part of Madeline's
plan to capture Michael and bring him back to the Section, repair the damage
that the Legion had done to him.
And Nikita had an idea of how deeply that damage had gone, she had seen
the woman with Michael and had been stunned by the resemblance to Simone.
Stunned and furious as well, that they would use such a weapon against
Michael, knowing how vulnerable he would be to Simone, and wanting nothing
more than to go and knock the woman down onto her ass, restraining herself
with an effort. It had all gone well, even if Michael had seemed to sense
that something was wrong at the end, they would catch a few of the Legion
but that wasn't important, retrieving Michael was.
She folded her arms over her chest and shifted her attention to Madeline
as the woman replaced the syringe in its case. "What did you give
him?"
"A sedative. He'll be out for a few hours, long enough to transport
him. Let's get him out of here." She gestured and two operatives came
to lift him, Nikita following behind them as they made their way out of
the hotel, ignoring the babble of the hotel guests as they passed them.
End of Part 1
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