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Marie aka mnreign
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Date Posted: 07:29:48 02/10/02 Sun
In reply to:
Marie aka mnreign
's message, "Downtime, Sometime NC17 Ch 1-6" on 07:16:13 02/10/02 Sun
31.
Madeline sat at her desk, reviewing the intel on Jorge Anselmo. She looked at Operations as he entered, gave him a perfunctory smile, then resumed her task. “What’s the latest?” she asked.
Operations rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward... just close enough that he could catch the scent of her perfume, but not close enough to antagonize her. He supposed she would never forget, much less forgive, his allowing her to believe her husband Charles was dead for nine years. As much as he preached about relationships between operatives making them weak, he knew he was the guiltiest of them all. What’s worse, she knew it too.
“Nikita says there’s a confrontation coming with Jorge and his second-in-command. They’ve taken out eleven of his men so far. What do we know about Anselmo?”
Madeline turned the monitor around for Operations to see. “He’s completely ruthless. His people are well-armed and devoted to him. He is nearly psychotic about finding the ‘Michel’ who betrayed his mentor René Dian. This should prove to be quite interesting. Michael is certainly at the top of his form. He and Nikita have done well together, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Humph,” was all Operations could manage to articulate. He absolutely hated the thought of Michael and Nikita together. The very idea made him ill. Operations wanted, no demanded, that Michael owe allegiance to no one or nothing but Section One. That’s what he’d had.... until Nikita came along. Dammit, Nikita had been a thorn in his side from the beginning. He’d balked at Madeline’s plan to have Michael train Nikita. It was a waste of a class five operative. Michael had warmed to the task set him only too well. Now, it appeared, unless something or someone intervened, they would be inseparable.
“We’re going through the motions of negotiating. Anselmo seems to think he’s invincible. Anselmo’s convinced that Michel Therrien is the Michel he’s been seeking for over a year now.”
Madeline nodded and said. “This is an excellent test of their performance levels. We couldn’t have devised anything better, if we’d profiled it ourselves. They are the perfect example of one and one adding up to more than two.”
“I know. I know, but I don’t need to hear about it at every turn. Now back to Monte Carlo. Anselmo’s forces are diminished and he’s pulled his men from the perimeter into the casino to guard the hostages. The on-site team has infiltrated the perimeter and is ready to storm the casino, if there’s any indication that they will start killing the hostages. Michael and Nikita should have no problem taking out Anselmo and his second-in-command. It should be over soon.” Operations paced and smoked his cigarette. “Join me in Systems?” he asked.
“Of course.” Madeline rose in a fluid and graceful movement.
Together they left her office, Operations daring to place a hand at her waist as they climbed the three steps to the hallway. Madeline gave him a quizzical look, as a tiny smile reached her lips for one brief moment, then vanished as she resumed her usual enigmatic expression.
************
32.
Birkoff’s familiar voice came over the comm unit. The unit was nothing like the sophisticated devices that Michael and Nikita usually wore on missions, but Birkoff was audible, if not perfectly clear. “Our team has control of the perimeter, and we’ve established a visual link in the casino. There are six men guarding the hostages. You have the leader and his lieutenant on the way toward you.”
Michael spoke quietly, efficiently, succinctly, “Section team hold. Advance only on my order.”
Michael looked at Nikita and nodded. She responded in kind. A new surge of adrenaline hit her. This was the beginning of the end. An unusual feeling of calm swept over her as she looked at Michael. He was in his true domain. She could tell that he knew no fear. Each movement he made was as automatic as breathing. She felt that together they could accomplish anything, as long as they were together. Twenty terrorists... a piece of cake.
* * *
Jorge and Bruno made cautious progress toward the security area. Bruno advancing on point, as Jorge covered his back and flanks. They had known each other for years and trusted each other implicitly. Jorge knew that Bruno was more interested in the money than in the cause, but Jorge also knew how to control Bruno’s acquisitive nature.
They reached the area where the security cameras were located. Thus far, they’d met no resistance, but they had come across the dead bodies of several of his men. This Michel was damn good to have taken out so many of his well-trained men. Before his death, René had hinted that Michel had connections in the covert intelligence community, but Jorge had not been impressed. Instead, he thanked the fates that had delivered Michel into his hands. The murderer of his friend and mentor would die this night, of that Jorge was certain. He would see to it... personally.
In spite of his confidence in his ability to overcome this undeniable thorn in his side, Jorge’s awareness of his surroundings kicked into overdrive. This was too easy. An uneasy chill marched its way down his spine. His gut clenched as if he’d been hit by a fist.
Bruno looked at him with a question in his eyes. Jorge shrugged with a nonchalance he did not feel.
Jorge and Bruno stood outside the door to security. As one, they kicked the door open, dropped and rolled, firing in all directions as they did.
The room was empty.
Jorge looked at Bruno, indecision mounting, then a frightful uneasiness hit him.
“It’s a trap!”
*********
33.
Michael and Nikita dropped from the ceiling. Unlike the ornate and decorative ceilings though out the guest portion of the Hotel de Paris, the security area had its share of convenient operative-hiding ceiling tiles. Nikita fell heavily onto Bruno.
“Umph.” Nikita and Bruno both said in unison, but Nikita had the advantage. She recovered first and rewarded Bruno, who outweighed her by a hundred pounds, with the slam of a rifle stock to his brutish chin. The light in his eyes faded as consciousness fled.
Michael landed nimbly, like a cat, on his feet. Jorge reacted quickly, aiming his gun at Michael, who disarmed him with a swift roundhouse kick. Warily they circled each other. Each of them looking for an advantage to use against the other.
Jorge looked into Michael’s green eyes and knew he’d not been mistaken. “Michel, you will die for what you did to René. He was your friend and you betrayed him!”
Nikita moved to attack Jorge from the rear, but Michael shook his head. “This is my fight, Nikita.” Nikita returned to restraining the unconscious Bruno, but kept a wary eye on Jorge... and Michael.
Jorge leapt at Michael, who simply moved aside. Michael was not angry. Anger made one careless, and it was not in Michael’s nature to be careless.
Enraged, Jorge feinted with a right hook, but Michael easily evaded the following left cross and followed with a kick to Jorge’s head. Jorge shook his head, trying to clear it. Michael followed with a sweeping movement that knocked Jorge off his feet. Jorge’s head hit the floor. The fall completing what Michael’s kick had started. Jorge was out. Instantly, Michael was over Jorge’s body, relieving him of his weapons.
Nikita handed the comm unit to Michael. “We have the leader and his second. Are the others still in the casino?” Michael asked.
“Yes, we are still showing six men in the casino.” Birkoff’s voice was reassuring.
Madeline’s voice came next. “Sims indicate that if they know their leader has been taken, they will surrender.”
“Madeline, do the sims show how many people will be considered acceptable collateral?” Nikita asked with a sniff.
Michael gave Nikita a warning look. “Send Housekeeping through the rear. With the remaining six in the casino, there should be no resistance. I’ll take Anselmo to the balcony, to prove that he has been taken. Have the Section point team advance slowly.”
“It’s your call, Michael. You’re on site,” Operations replied.
“Michael, this could still end of hurting a lot of people,” Nikita began her pro forma protest.
“Nikita, I don’t want anyone else hurt here tonight, either.” Uncharacteristically, he again stroked her cheek, then bent to pull Jorge to his feet. The man was large and semi-conscious. It took both Michael and Nikita to maneuver the terrorist leader to the mezzanine where he could be seen by the remaining terrorists.
Michael held a gun to Jorge’s head and announced. “It’s over. Surrender your weapons, and you won’t be harmed. Michael and Nikita watched as consternation reigned supreme in the casino below. The terrorists looked from one to the other.
Pierre shouted, “Start killing the hostages! It was Jorge’s last order.”
Nikita shouldered the assault rifle to her shoulder and drew bead on the erstwhile new leader. “You’ll be the first to die!” Nikita shouted.
Michael and Nikita could hear the women start to externalize the emotions they’d suppressed for what seemed like many hours, but in reality had been less than two. The male hostages stirred around, restless. Perhaps, wondering if they were brave enough to repel the six lone men in front of them.
“Point team, move,” Michael ordered into the comm unit. Chaos erupted as Section One operatives crashed through windows. Men and women dived for what cover they could find behind the gaming tables. Thus isolated, one by one the remaining six terrorists lay down their weapons acknowledging their defeat.
“Targets acquired,” Michael announced.
Nikita smiled. As far as she could tell, there were no serious injuries among the innocents below. Her smile faded as she caught movement behind Michael. Another terrorist stepped from the shadows and fired. Nikita swung her rifle and returned his fire.
The twentieth terrorist fell... as did his target... Michael.
Nikita grabbed the comm unit. “Send Medical now. Michael’s down! I repeat, Michael’s down.”
***********
34.
The Hotel de Paris was housecleaned quite efficiently. The twelve deceased terrorists were removed with a minimal amount of fuss and bother. The six terrorists who were ‘lucky’ enough to be left alive were hustled away in the dark gray vans, along with their shaken leader Jorge and his second-in-command. Whether any of the six would consider themselves lucky to be alive remained to be seen. Their next gig would be the White Room, and while Madeline would most likely not be needed for their interviews, she would perform an evaluation. Would they be Section One material or not? One thing was certain, Jorge and Bruno would be interrogated thoroughly before disposal.
While the local authorities remained behind at the Place du Casino, to interview the hostages, it was as if Section One had never been on the scene. The hundreds of onlookers, both the media and others, saw a highly regimented assault team, and never realized they had witnessed an operation by the most covert anti-terrorist agency on the planet.
The hotel management, instead of being thankful for Michael and Nikita’s intervention, made certain that the ‘authorities’ knew that Monsieur and Madame Therrien would no longer be welcome as guests at the Hotel de Paris. Paradoxically, they blamed the rescuers for being necessary.
Whether M.Therrien would live long enough to be a guest anywhere else again was still in question. Nikita had bent over Michael’s still form pressing her hands against his sucking chest wounds. “Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t you dare,” she’d yelled at him. Blood had marked the entrance and exit wounds in his right upper flank. “Nothing. Not so much as a damn handkerchief when I need one. Nothing.” she’d muttered as she attempted to staunch the flow of blood from both wounds. Afraid to the release the pressure long enough to check for a pulse, she’d prayed that Medical would come quickly.
They did. “Out of the way, Nikita,” Doc Marie’s voice said urgently, but kindly.
“We don’t have any time to waste here.” The Section-seasoned trauma surgeon ripped open Michael’s shirt and made a quick assessment of his wounds. Sterile bandages found their way into her hands and became pressure dressings in the twinkling of an eye. Other hands started two IV’s, and another pair of hands slapped a non-rebreather mask over his mouth and nose and a pulse oximeter monitor on his right forefinger. Telemetry leads were positioned in the appropriate areas, and a rapid rhythm could be seen on the battery-powered monitor. “He’s in sinus tach, volume loss. Bolus him with a liter of normal saline. Blood replacement will have to wait till we get him on the plane. Let’s get a tube in his chest.”
Again the skilled hands of her team provided the surgeon with exactly what she needed. “That’s it. Twenty cms of suction.” Once Doc was satisfied that everything they could do had been done, she ordered, “Let’s get him out of here and on that plane.” Instantly, her team sprang into action and Michael was on the move, albeit unaware of it all.
Brad, one of the medics, had held Nikita in his arms, as much to keep her from interfering as to reassure her, while the surgeon performed her magic. “Come on, Nikita.”
Nikita looked at the surgeon, her wide blue eyes full of tears. “Marie? May I stay with him?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Marie responded.
***********
35.
The flight had been torturous. Michael had not regained consciousness. Frankly, the surgeon had sedated him heavily to prevent any inadvertent struggles. Michael was known for the number of times the medics had failed to keep him in Medical. With heavy sedation, Doc was able to keep Michael well-oxygenated and stable. The last thing she wanted to do was operate en flight. Michael’s hemorrhaging had nearly stopped which led her to believe that no major arteries had been damaged by the bullet’s passage through his thoracic wall. He was still critical, but given his excellent state of physical conditioning and his will to live, he was certainly salvageable.
Doc glanced from her patient long enough to place a hand on Nikita’s shoulder.
“He’s going to be all right, Nikita. You know Michael. He’ll make it.”
Nikita looked at Marie with a tear-stained face. “Thanks, Doc. I owe you a big one,” she sniffed.
“You owe me more than one, but who’s counting,” Doc replied with a quirked smile, then turned back to her patient.
* * *
Nikita paced the hall outside Medical’s surgery suite. Thankfully, Operations had not insisted on an immediate debrief, as he was often wont to do. Madeline had deigned to speak with Doc while Michael was being prepped for surgery, but Doc had little time to say more than, “Don’t worry. He’ll be back killing terrorists for you in no time,” before being gowned and gloved by a waiting nurse.
Nikita remembered the enigmatic look cast her way as Madeline left. Madeline blamed her for Michael’s injury. Nikita had bitten her tongue to keep from responding to Madeline’s cold look, but since Nikita blamed herself as well, there wasn’t much to say.
It was supposed to be downtime for Michael and her... the first time for them to be together by choice. In the beginning, it had been heaven. The unending passion they’d shared. It had been a conflagration of desire. She’d already lost count of the times they’d made love or the various ways they’d made love. And it had been love... consuming... exhilarating... love.
It had been the way she had always known it would be. It had been ‘more’ than she could ever have imagined. For instance, she never could have imagined that Michael possessed such a romantic nature. Sensuality to last a lifetime, yes, but the private plane with champagne and strawberries, Monte Carlo, and the beautiful gowns and jewelry. The list was endless. He’d spent a small fortune, she was sure, on their trip, and she’d lost another small fortune at the roulette table.
More than all money he’d spent on her, and more important in Nikita’s mind, was that he’d given her so much of himself in their all-too-short day together. His hand at her waist, the look in his eyes, his rampant arousal whenever she was near, all told her of his love and desire. He might not have been able to say the words, but Nikita knew she was loved... and she had let him down. She had failed to watch his back, and now his life lay in Doc’s skilled hands.
Nikita heard footsteps behind her. She turned. “Walter, hi.” Nikita thrust her arms around the grizzled old warrior’s neck and hugged him for all he was worth.
“I hear you and Michael finally had some downtime together. I guess from his injuries you were just too much woman for him, Sugar,” he said with a practiced leer.
Walter’s tone was flip, and it brought a half-smile to her strained face, but his concern was there, too. “Is he gonna be okay?”
Nikita nodded. “It’s my fault, Walter. If-- if hadn’t been for me, this would never have happened. I let him down. I dropped my guard, Walter.” Nikita buried her face in his shoulder. Walter was like the father or uncle she’d never known. She’d never had to hide her emotions from him, and she hadn’t had to worry about his manipulating her for missions. He was her friend in a place that didn’t encourage friendships.
“No, no, Sugar. You can’t blame yourself. This was something Michael wanted to do for you, and he did it up big. You took out the guy that shot’im, didn’t you?”
Walter kept his arms around her, and she was grateful. The adrenaline rush had long faded, and she was at the point of exhaustion. “Not soon enough. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s never been so bad.”
“Michael’s strong, Sugar. He still has a lot to live for, you know?”
“I hope so, Walter. I sure hope so.”
**************
36.
Michael could feel sensation of pain before he could move. He could hear Nikita’s soft voice before he could open his eyes to see her. He could feel Nikita’s touch at his wrist. He struggled to open his eyes. He wanted to know that she was really there, and that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.
“Michael, can you hear me? I’m here. You’re in Medical. You’ve had surgery. Please don’t pull out any of the tubes. There’s one in your chest. It has to stay there to re-expand your lung. Doc says you’ll be ‘fine.’” Nikita hated to use Section-speak, but fine meant life to all of them.
Michael moved his hand a fraction of an inch, but enough to let Nikita know he heard her, that he understood. A chest tube, not much he could do about that. He sighed and again tried to open his eyes. A flicker brought overwhelming light. He gave up and surrendered to the drugs he felt coursing through his system.
* * *
Tears streamed down Nikita’s face. She knew that Michael had been with her very briefly, but the effort had tired him. Doc had assured her that the sedation would affect him that way. He would need less and less as time passed, but he could not be allowed to pull one of his usual numbers and leave before Doc deemed him fit to leave. Actually, he wouldn’t physically be able to do anything like that for a few days. He was already breathing on his own... a good sign, very good.
Nikita looked up as Operations and Madeline entered the MedLab CCU. Madeline spoke first, “How is he?” Operations gave a weak smile, but his eyes scowled. He blamed her for the severe injuries to his top Class Five operative.
“He drifts in and out. I think the last time he understood that I was here, but the drugs are pretty strong. Doc says he’ll recover. His pulmonary artery wasn’t damaged, and the tissue damage was minimal compared to what it could have been. He was very lucky,” Nikita answered.
“He was lucky you were there, Nikita,” Madeline said softly.
“He would have been luckier, if I’d seen the shooter a second sooner,” Nikita admitted. She still blamed herself, and she would have given anything to have been the one who was shot. She knew the painful rehab after a lung injury. It wasn’t a lot of fun, but she also knew Michael would be a man possessed until he returned to full efficiency.
Doc came bustling into the cubicle. “Well, Blondie, how’s our spyboy doing? Is he trying to remove any vital tubes yet?
Nikita shook her head.
Doc grinned. “I didn’t think he would be quite up to that... yet.” She turned her attention to her silent patient, leaning close to his ear. “Michael,” she said softly with a touch of humor in her voice. “Don’t be messing up my hard work now. Take advantage of the good drugs we’re giving you, and maybe you’ll be able to have some rest and ‘relaxation’ time later.” Doc gave a big wink at Nikita, who promptly turned red from her neck to scalp.
Operations coughed, as if choking on a fur ball. “Well, I think we’ll leave Michael to your tender mercies, Doctor. Nikita.” He nodded and with Madeline at his side, left the MedLab CCU.
Once the pair had safely exited the CCU, Doc turned to Nikita and said, “You know, if they get any stiffer, we’ll have to have them embalmed.”
It was Nikita’s turn to choke, from suppressed laughter, not a fur ball.
************
37.
Hours passed, and Michael’s flirtations with consciousness lasted longer each time. His throat was dry from the oxygen, and he was finally able to stand the light, perhaps because someone had the forethought to dim it. He opened his eyes. Yes, his angel was there sleeping, sitting in a chair with her upper body thrown across the foot of his bed. His chest burned as he breathed in and out. He wanted to touch her.
“Ni-ki-ta,” he was finally able to say. In spite of the pain that it took for him to speak and breathe, it felt good to be able to say her name. He knew that she had been with him every time he had drifted in and out. She had saved him. She was his guardian angel. “Ni-ki-ta,” he tried again with great effort.
Nikita’s raised her head and looked at him with bleary eyes that told of many hours without sleep. “Michael?” she said in disbelief, as she reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, so sorry. It’s all my fault. I let my guard down.” Tears of gratitude streamed down her face.
“S’all right, Ki-ta.” Michael blinked his eyes, swallowed, and asked, “How long?”
“Since you were shot?” Nikita asked. Michael managed a tiny nod.
“Twelve hours.”
Doc breezed into the room assessed the situation and smiled. “So I see our favorite hunk is able to talk now. Good.” She listened to his lungs and heart then examined her fine handiwork. “Michael, you have the constitution of an ox. Lucky for you, since you’re in the business you are. I can keep the mighty-fine drugs coming, and you can sleep through the next few days, or I can reduce them a bit, if you promise to stay right where you are and leave all the tubes intact. The choice is up to you.”
“Reduce,” Michael said hoarsely.
Doc looked at Nikita with a wry grin. “Somehow I knew that would be his choice. Okay, cutie pie, that’s what I’ll do.” Doc patted Michael’s thigh and reached to adjust the pump.
No one but Doc would dare to talk to him like that, but Michael didn’t mind.
“Well, fella, I hope you two managed to have a little fun before all the ca-ca hit the fan.” Doc looked from Nikita to Michael. “Hmm. From the look on your faces, I would say you did. Good! But try not to dislodge that chest tube, Nikita, or I’ll be after your butt myself. See ya later.” Doc breezed from the CCU as quickly as she had entered.
Nikita’s shoulders shook with laughter, and Michael was relieved. Doc had a way about her that lightened the situation, any situation. “We were supposed to be on the beach, Kita. Topless beach, too,” he said.
Nikita rolled her eyes. “How can you think about that at a time like this?”
“You’re here, Kita. That’s all it takes. Let’s finish our downtime, okay?”
“Well, sometime, we will, Michael. We’ll have more time, and we’ll--”
“No, now, Kita. Tell me what we would be doing on the beach.” Every word was an effort, but he wanted to keep her mind off her guilt.
The light glimmered in her aquamarine eyes, as she realized what he was asking her to do. She pulled her chair close to the head of his bed and leaned closer to him and began to speak softly for him. “First of all, I’m wearing the bottom of a micro-kini. No top. You’ve just rubbed sun screen all over me, and you’re very aroused. Very tantalizing you are too in your black thong, Michael.”
“I--I’m wearing a thong?”
“Not for long. Now the sun is very hot, and we seek shelter in the cabana....”
Nikita’s soft voice wove a sensual fantasy for the two of them, as Michael’s body took refuge in sleep, but his fantasy with Nikita continued long after she stopped speaking.
Nikita watched him sleep for a few minutes, kissed his cheek, then his lips. “I love you, Michael.”
In his dream he heard her and smiled. Je t’aime, Nikita. Je t’aime.
Fini
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