Written by Codename Ghost
Date: 7/16/97
Michael slept the deep sleep of utter exhaustion, no dream
to plague him, awaking to instinctively reach for the warm form that had
laid beside him for so many nights only to find an empty bed, rolled onto
his side to look around the room. Not the bedroom he had shared with Simone
or the bedroom of his apartment, it took him a moment to remember exactly
where he was and what had happened. Sitting up in bed, drawing his knees
up, he rested his forehead on one knee briefly, forcing himself to face
and accept the truth. She wasn't and had never been Simone, no matter how
much she looked like her, somewhere deep in his subconscious he had known
that but had chosen to delude himself and live out the fantasy. And they
had used that against him, using that little hold to pull him in, the woman
he'd thought of as Simone a more than willing participant, she had even
taken part in the torture sessions.
Pushing the covers back he swung his legs over the side of the bed and
just sat there, head turning to look at the dresser and seeing the clothes
someone had thoughtfully set out for him. Though there was no clock or
window by which to judge time he thought that it was early in the morning
yet and as he sat there, staring at the clothes on the dresser, the thought
came to him that he could get dressed and simply walk out of the house,
leave everything here behind.
Even with the return of his memory, he felt...disconnected, both from the
Section and the Legion, and directionless, knowing that he wouldn't go
back to the Legion but not certain if he could return to the Section either.
It was too soon to make that kind of momentous decision, he had to give
himself time to consider what he was doing, not just go off on impulse,
because once he set himself on that path, the Section would have no other
option than to cancel him. He had resources of his own and years of experience,
places he could go for refuge, conceivably he might be able to evade Section
assassins...
But what would be the point? Once he and Simone had discussed this, back
before that disasterous mission against Glass Curtain, talked about leaving
the Section behind and hiding somewhere--a chill ran down his spine at
that memory, coming with it the insidious thought that maybe the Section
had known and chosen to send them out, knowing as well that Glass Curtain
was ready for them. With Simone Michael might of succumbed to the temptation
to flee the Section, try to survive on the outside, but without her he
would devote himself to the Section...just as he had. He scrubbed at his
forehead with the heel of his hand, attempting to rid himself of that thought
as much as to ease the ache in his temples, thinking, that way lies madness.
If Nikita was with you, would you go? asked that little voice and he closed
his eyes, letting his breath out in a long sigh. He thought that if he
asked, she would come with him, but as much as he couldn't bear the thought
of leaving her behind, he also didn't want to see her die. And it would
happen, as good she was, she didn't have the level of paranoia needed to
survive life on the run. One or the both of them would die and in the end
the Section would win.
With another sigh, he pushed himself up to his feet and went to the dresser,
setting aside his black leather coat to pull on black T-shirt and jeans,
shrugging into the coat before leaving the bedroom.
For the first time in days, Nikita had slept well and later than she'd
been planning, dressing hurriedly and going out into the hallway. She stopped
before the closed door of Michael's room, one hand lifted to knock, and
hesitated, thinking that if he was still sleeping she shouldn't disturb
him, after the last few days he needed his rest. Walking quietly down the
hallway she went downstairs and to the kitchen, where she discovered that
she needn't of bothered being quiet.
Michael sat at the kitchen table, dressed in his customary black along
with the black leather coat, a coffee mug at one elbow and a sheet of paper
laid out on the table before him, a pen in one hand and the other supporting
his chin as he studied the paper. He didn't look up as she entered the
kitchen but she knew he had to be aware of her there, moved behind him
to look over his shoulder and down at the paper, seeing what looked to
be a sketch of a building.
"What's that?" she asked curiously.
"The warehouse that the Legion is using as their base." He had
been sitting there for nearly two hours, trying to draw the plans, and
while he was able to recall it in detail, memories kept intruding on the
process, leaving him angry and impatient with himself at his inability
to focus. Here was the offices and past them the main bay of the warehouse,
no exits that he remembered but then he hadn't been in the condition to
take notes and afterwards he had never gone there, and as he had tried
to sketch it out the only thing he could remember was the dark airless
closet they had locked him into between sessions and the unaccustomed panic
he had felt at being shut in like that. Lying there in the dark, too weak
to even move, and struggling to control the fear that tightened his chest
and made his breath short...
Raising his head, he finished the ground floor with a few angry strokes
of the pen and went on to sketch the top two floors, trying to focus and
ignore Nikita's presence behind him at the same time. She hovered behind
him, radiating concern, and, rather than soothing him, it rankled, taking
all the self control he could muster to not snap at her; the dispassionate
part of his mind knew that she was only trying to be of help but it was
salt to the already badly wounded pride, aggravating and inflaming it.
From childhood he had learned to be self-reliant and found it difficult
after all these years to accept assistance, however well meant--to accept
it meant acknowledging weakness and in the Section that could prove lethal.
Standing behind him Nikita could see anger in the stiffness of his shoulders
and the sharp movements of his fingers as the pen moved over the paper,
knowing it was directed not at her but at himself and wishing there was
something she could say--or do--to draw him out of this. And knew as well
that she would have to bide her time, now was not the time to attempt to
draw him out, not when he needed all his strength and wits to accomplish
the task he would be set. Later...later she would force the issue but for
now she was content to let it go.
"Are you sure they'll still be there?" she asked, walking around
the table to sit down across from him.
"It depends on how much confidence they have in my...ability to resist.
And the strength of their programming." His mouth twisted as he said
the word "resist", a momentary flicker of bitterness and self-loathing
in his eyes, and he gave a little shake of his head, letting the pen fall
to the table as he sat back in the chair.
Nikita looked at her watch and heaved a sigh, rising reluctantly from her
chair. "The briefing will be in an hour--we'd better get ready to
go."
Nodding Michael finished the last of his coffee and rose as well, folding
the sketch and stuffing it into his jacket pocket, following her as she
left the kitchen.
Walking into Section One's headquarters was oddly disquieting, strengthening
the feeling of being disconnected, and as he followed Nikita down the hall,
Michael was aware of the eyes of other operatives on him, tracking him
as he passed. He had known it would be hard, coming back here after all
he'd done, but he hadn't expected to feel this, the strong sensation that
he was walking into the lion's den and wanting to bolt, every step deeper
into the depths of the Section an exercise in self-control. Despite the
coolness he was sweating by the time they reached the briefing room and
before they went inside Nikita touched his arm, giving him a reassuring
smile when he looked at her; he managed to give her a small smile in return,
drawing in a deep breath before he entered the room, mask set firmly in
place.
Heads lifted as they came inside, seven pairs of eyes watching as they
both took a seat, and of them Michael was especially aware of Madeline's
eyes on him, appraising him, but once he had sat down some of the sense
of dislocation had eased. This room was by far the most familiar to him
and if any place in the Section could be considered "neutral"
it was this--here he was able to find that focus it had been so hard to
attain and he actually found himself relaxing as he leaned back in the
chair, folding his hands in his lap. Four of the operatives seated around
the table he had a vague acquaintance with and from them were brief, furtive
glances of curiosity, but nothing more, no hostility.
Coming through these doors he had wondered how many of them knew he had
executed Dylan and how they would react but there had been nothing so far
to indicate anyone knew. Until he looked at Birkhoff seated across the
table from him and Birkhoff glanced away, looking uncomfortable and wary,
that much telling him that Birkhoff knew. Operations passed behind Birkhoff's
chair and he didn't have to guess that he--as well as Madeline--knew, from
Nikita's lack of reaction at his statement they had told her as well. And
to keep the command structure secure they would not allow that information
to be spread among the operatives...
"As you well know, Simon Warfield has been targeted by the Legion
due to his involvement with a relief fund for a former Soviet satellite
country. And because he has been speaking against the rebel forces attempting
to overthrow the government. Tomorrow night at 5:00 PM he will be hosting
a fund raising dinner at the Marriott and we are expecting the Legion to
make an attempt on him there, given that their previous attempt failed."
Operations looked directly at Michael as he said the last and Michael returned
the look coolly, letting nothing out; after a long moment Operations broke
the connection and walked around the table as he continued.
"Given that we have no records of any known Legion members, Michael
will be coordinating with us to identify any members present. Nikita will
be providing video feed so that we can locate and remove any potential...problems.
Michael and Birkhoff will be monitoring from the van, the rest of you will
be on the floor. We've already assembled the team that will work as bodyguards
for Warfield, everyone else will be providing security for the floor and
door. This is going to be the Legion's only chance to hit Warfield before
he goes to Washington D.C. to address Congress on behalf of his relief
fund and they are going to have to make their move so I want everyone to
be prepared. Review the floor plans of the hotel, familiarize yourself
with entry and exit points, and no one is above suspicion. Questions?"
Silence around the table and Operations nodded in satisfaction. "We
will reconvene here tomorrow at 12:00 to give out assignments and make
security preparations. Dismissed." One by one the room emptied, Nikita
and Michael the last of the operatives to leave, and once they were gone
Operations turned to Madeline.
"Do you think he can do it?"
"He thinks he has to--and that's the important thing." She had
been observing him throughout the briefing, watching for the slightest
hint of emotion, but Michael had not reacted at the obvious dig Operations
had made, seemingly composed. There had been video surveillance through
every room of the Section house they'd taken Michael to and both of them
had reviewed the tapes this morning prior to the briefing, watching especially
the tape of the last session that had broken Michael out of the conditioning.
Even if Operations didn't like Nikita he had to admit that she had been
the catalyst to bring him out of it--of anyone in the Section he trusted
Nikita the most and she would be the one he opened up to, if he was able
to let himself.
"And after this is over?" They had both known that the Legion
hadn't executed Michael outright but beyond that they had been able to
glean little, nothing at all from the Section's vast network of informants.
Five months of nothing, long enough that Operations had begun to suspect
that he might indeed be dead after all, buried in some unknown grave, and
then the reports trickling in, Legion attacks that had the imprint of a
familiar guiding hand, finally an actual identification by an informant
and then the recovered videotape of Dylan's execution. Madeline's idea
to place the blurb in the society section of the local paper regarding
Warfield's attendance of a luncheon and it had been simple enough to replace
some members of the hotel staff with their own personnel, even going so
far as to rent the banquet hall and fill it with their own people.
"It will take him time to recover but he is strong. I'd suggest a
little time off and then working him back into the routine. Now that he's
seen that even he can be broken, he will be more...cautious. Once he works
past it, he will be the stronger for it." She smiled warmly at Operations.
"Just as you are."
He smiled faintly in turn. "I hope so. It would be a waste of resources
if we had to cancel him."
And a personal waste, thought Madeline, knowing that the same thought was
going through Operations' head even if he would never voice or acknowledge
it. Rising from her chair, she smoothed her skirt and said, "I have
a session with Raine--dinner tonight?"
"Of course. I'll see you at 6:00." Madeline nodded and left the
room.
Operations stood alone for a moment, thinking of his own experiences as
a P.O.W. and how long it had taken to come back from that, he knew some
men who never had. He had to trust Madeline's judgement in this, had to
believe that Michael would come through this and be able to function again
in his old role. Sighing, he walked out of the briefing room, heading back
for his office.
End of Part 6
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