Introduction to AWOL

This was written about two thirds of the way through season one. We has heard that the last episode involved “Nikita goes on a suicide mission and does not return.” And on the lists were speculating as to what might happen. I wrote a scaled down version of this. People liked it and asked me to write the entire thing, so this is it. It is unusual for me as it is the only Michael/Nikita angst type story I have ever done.

AWOL

Birkoff glanced uneasily up at the observation deck. The room was tense, even the operatives doing physical training around the corner were unusually quiet, stealing glances up to the deck. Walter was puttering in the back of his work area, Madeline was probably in her office. He stole another quick look. Operations and Michael were still talking. Well, it looked like Operations was talking and Michael was giving his patented glare. Birkoff had heartily wished to be elsewhere when Michael returned from Europe and discovered what had happened. What Operations and Madeline had done. Had he, Michael, been there it never would have happened but he’d been on an assignment.

Birkoff had wondered if this emergency mission hadn’t been timed just a little too perfectly but had never said anything. Would never say anything. He heard heavy footsteps and looked up. Michael was walking across the room towards him. It was also the way to his office and Birkoff hoped that that was where he was headed. No such luck, Michael paused by Birkoff’s station.

“I want the report on my desk.”

“It’s there.” Birkoff told him.

“When will we know?”

“Six hours.”

Michael continued past Birkoff’s station and the training area to his office. Using every bit of his self-control he didn’t slam the door. Sitting heavily in his chair he slid the mini-disk into his drive. He read the information several times, going over the mission parameters and scenario in minute detail. No matter how he looked at it it came out the same way every time. She had almost no chance.

Birkoff had included his sim. results with the report; they gave her a twenty percent survival chance. Michael knew that Birkoff had a habit of rigging the sims, he really did not want to know in which direction these might have been altered. He closed his eyes, leaning back and running his hands down his face. He was tired. It had been a long mission and then to return to discover this. Nikita had been sent on a suicide mission.

He knew that Operations did not like her, that Madeline had doubts, but he had not anticipated this. Oh, they told him that she had volunteered, and she probably had.

But at what coercion? Given her state of mind after the last several disastrous months it was no wonder that she had taken the mission when it was offered. First that fiasco with the cop, then Morocco, then the Milovich mission, followed by the disaster with the phasing shell. She was ripe for this. All they had had to do was wait for him to be out of the way. And they had.

Six hours later.

Michael paced behind Birkoff, watching the overhead screens. Birkoff was just sitting, waiting for an up-link from the satellite, just now moving into position above the earth. Operations watched from the observation deck. Madeline was at Birkoff’s station, no doubt to watch and measure all their reactions, Birkoff thought cynically.

“How much longer Birkoff?” Michael asked.

“Sixty seconds the window opens. We have ten minutes after that.”

They all knew that if Nikita did not contact them during those ten minutes the odds that she had survived the explosion that she had set were minimal. They knew that she had successfully destroyed the weapons plant. A spy satellite had confirmed that more than two hours earlier. Now they waited to see if she had made it out. According to Birkoff’s sims if she did not contact them during this pass of the DOD satellite her chances of survival would drop from twenty percent to five percent. A figure too low to justify a retrieval team. Not that one would have been sent anyway. Michael was well aware that this had been seen as an opportunity to get rid of Nikita, even if no one was prepared to admit it out loud.

The screens remained ominously blank as the minutes crawled by. Michael stood quietly, ignoring Madeline. Not giving her the satisfaction of seeing a reaction. Fifteen minutes later the window was closed. No communication had come. Nikita had not made it to the radio site.

**************

Michael sat at his desk. His computer was on but he wasn’t seeing it. A second satellite pass had resulted in nothing, Nikita had pretty much been written off. He could hardly remember the last time he had slept, 3 days ago maybe. It was nearly nine at night and there was a briefing at 8 the next morning. He shut off the computer and grabbed his coat. No one spoke to him as he walked towards the airlock. He didn’t know it but he looked even more unapproachable than usual.

The air was cold and his breath condensed in front of him. He didn’t live far from The Section and he decided to walk. A cold rain was falling, it would probably freeze during the night, or turn to snow. It matched his mood. He seemed to be in a fog. Nikita was dead. He kept shoving the thought to the back of his mind. He had suffered losses before and found the easiest way to deal with it was to just move on. To ignore the ache and the new empty place inside and just keep going. After Simone he had thought about eating his gun, but it seemed the cowardly way out. Especially later, after he found out how she had suffered. The easy way out would be unconscionable.

He looked up. Somehow he had come to be standing in front of her apartment. It wasn’t on his way home, he had just walked there, without thinking. Her windows were dark, of course. He wondered about her cat. The neighbor would care for it no doubt.

What was he doing here? She was gone. Dead. Like everyone else. He turned abruptly and began walking towards his own house. Quicker now, he moved with a sure stride that told anyone with less than honest intentions that this was no easy mark, muggers should look elsewhere.

His house was not dark. He had too many enemies to leave a dark house. His lights were on timers. It was a city house, one of a row of attractive stone houses, tall and narrow with small front porches at the top of stone stairs. Most of the porches had some sort of attractive plant or bush in a pot. His was no different. It was not wise to stand out in any way. He walked up the stairs, letting himself in. The hall was dimly lit from a light in the living room to his right. There were steep stairs going up along the right hand wall. The kitchen was straight ahead down a short hall, past the living room and a small dining room, which he had converted to an office.

Feeling vaguely as though he should eat he wandered back to the kitchen, shedding his coat and suit jacket and tossing them over the banister. Standing in front of the refrigerator though he found nothing appealed. A drink suddenly seemed like a very good idea. He poured a hefty shot of whisky into a glass and turned, sipping it. A bright spark of colour caught his eye. It was on the table. A glove. A bright pink glove with some kind of feathers around the cuff. Nikita’s glove. She had left it in his car the week before after a mission. He’d kept it to return to her but hadn’t seen her since.

Suddenly it hit him, she was dead.

The glass was across the room, smashing against the wall before he even realized what he was doing. The grief doubled him over and he wrapped his arms around himself as though in agony, sliding down the refrigerator to crouch on the floor, not even hearing the animal sounds of grief tearing from his throat. It overwhelmed him, grief for Nikita, for Simone, for their son. Grief that he had walled up behind and icy façade of emotionless indifference.

Gradually the first storm passed and he found himself curled on the cold floor, exhausted and drained. He stood, ignoring the broken glass and spilled whiskey, and walked up the stairs. His whole body ached and he stood under the shower, not even bothering to wash himself, just standing there. He felt as though he wasn’t really in his body, but watching from outside it. It was an odd experience and reminded him of his training period, when he had been exposed to various drugs, to familiarize him with what they would be like if he were ever captured and they were used on him.

He fell into bed, naked and wet, trying to will himself to sleep. But his mind kept racing, one thought after another for what seemed like hours. Gradually he dozed, on the edge of consciousness, until a single thought kept zeroing in, closer and closer until it crystallized, bringing him alert.

She was not dead.

At least, no one could be sure that she was dead.

She just hadn’t made it to the radio point.

Birkoff slept heavily. It had been a long and awful day and it had left him exhausted. The monitors around the room all displayed dark swirling patterns of colour, dimly illuminating his living space. Suddenly he came awake. Something had disturbed him. He rolled over and his heart stopped. He was facing a gun.

“Are you watched?” It was Michael’s voice. Birkoff was so scared he had never looked beyond the gun barrel.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Michael returned the gun to the holster in the small of his back. “Get up. I need you to do something.”

Birkoff rolled out of bed and pulled on the jeans he’d left on the floor. He reached for his boots but Michael stopped him.

“You won’t need them, we’re going to work right here.”

“What’s with the gun?” Birkoff asked.

“If they had you watched it had to look like I forced you to do this. Which I am, make no mistake. You are going to do this.” His icy green eyes bore into Birkoff and he had no doubt that he would do whatever Michael wanted.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to run a sim. on Nikita’s mission.”

“But I already did, you saw the results.”

“Not on her survival chance.” He nudged Birkoff into a chair in front of his computers. “Run a sim. on her probable location if she survived.”

Birkoff stared up at him, jaw slack.

“Do it.”

******************

Once again Birkoff sat at his station. Observing. This time it was the briefing table. Several cold-ops were gathered there as well as Madeline. Operations was just walking up. Michael was not there. Operations looked at his watch, spoke to Madeline.

She shook her head. He spoke to Ted and then Ted stood and walked towards Birkoff, who put his head down, looking busy. Ted walked past, towards Michael’s office, returning moments later.

Walking up to the table Ted said, “He’s not in his office, his coat is there though.” Ian spoke up, “I saw his car when I came in.”

Operations pushed a button on the console, “Birkoff”

“Yes sir?”

“Check around for Michael please, see if security saw him arrive, call his house and see if he’s there also.”

“Yes sir.”

“He was tired last night, he might have overslept.” Madeline said, knowing it was highly unlikely.

A search quickly revealed that Michael was not in The Section. A short while later Operations called Birkoff to the observation deck. He pointed to a view screen.

“Watch this please Birkoff.”

A security tape rolled, it showed Michael walking down one of section’s halls.

“This was shot very early this morning, just before 3:00am. Do you see what it says on the wall?”

“Yes sir.”

“It says L4 Birkoff. L4. Your quarters are on L4, are they not?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you see Michael this morning?”

“Yes sir.”

“Where did you see him?”

“In my quarters.”

“What time was that?”

“About 3.”

“Michael went to your quarters at 3:00 in the morning?”

“Yes sir.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted me to run a sim.”

“Didn’t you think it was strange that he asked you to run a sim. in your quarters at 3:00am?”

“No. I mean, he asked me to do it.”

“What sim. did he want?”

“About Nikita’s mission.”

“What about Nikita’s mission?” Operations bit off.

“A..a …well, a location sim.”

“A location sim.”

“Yes sir.”

“I assume that you ran the sim for him?”

“Yes sir.”

“Bring me the results.”

“Yes sir.” As he turned to leave operations stopped him,

“Birkoff?”

“Yes?”

“In the future you will report any further such odd activity on the part of any operative, including those superior to you. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Birkoff heaved a sigh of relief as he walked down the stirs. It hadn’t been as bad as he thought. As he walked to his station he noticed Walter moving boxes around his workspace and wandered over, “What’s up Walter?”

Walter leaned on his desk. “Some weapons are missing.”

“Weapons.” Birkoff said, almost to himself.

“Yes, and radios, some other gear.”

“You think…”

“Who else? His combat gear is all missing.”

“Does Operations know?”

“Yes. That’s how I know it’s missing. He asked me to check. Michael went after her.”

“Yeah. He had me run a location sim.”

“Michael did?”

“Last night, er..this morning really. Is he in big trouble for this?”

“He should be but maybe not too bad. He’s not stupid, he knows how to cover his ass. It depends. If he gets her out and they get back, it will be a little hot for him for awhile but he’s got a lot of authority. And…”

“What?”

“I’m not sure. A feeling I guess. Something that happened a few months ago. He might have a lever of some kind with Operations.”

*************

Michael moved stealthily, weapon at the ready. This was the third building in this group that he had searched. He was convinced that she was here. His certainty that she was alive had grown after he had seen the soldiers searching for her. He made his way up the stairs, tense. He could almost feel her presence, she was nearby, he was sure of it. Nikita tensed slightly, was that someone walking around downstairs? She had managed to set the explosives at the factory and get out without a serious injury and to escape. The security hadn’t been as tight or complex as the mission profile had led her to believe it would be. Unfortunately she had turned her ankle pretty badly and it had slowed her down. There had been no way to make it to the radio point without being captured and she had holed up in a small abandoned plant of some sort about three miles from the explosion site. Soldiers had been searching off and on but she had eluded them.

This plant was a good hiding place with a lot of concealed places. It was a rare bit of good luck that they had not brought in dogs. She was crouched in a small space under a staircase, all her instincts had told her to head for the basement but her training had taught her that that would be a mistake, a trap. She had gone up and found an area in which she could not be trapped. From here she had access to a window as well as at least two ways out.

She strained her ears, trying to decide if she had really heard something or if it had been her imagination. It sounded like someone coming up the stairs. This one was much quieter than the groups of soldiers who had searched earlier. She readied her weapon. The sound was nearer now. She was prepared to shoot at the first sight of movement. Suddenly she tensed, hearing a voice, “Josephine.”

Her jaw dropped, “Michael?” She whispered. But he heard her. Moving swiftly he came around under the stairs and she stood. She just stared at him. He scanned her quickly, looking for injuries.

“Are you okay?”

“Just some bumps, a twisted ankle. What are you doing here? They said I had to get to the check point before anyone would come in.”

“Change of plans. Can you walk on that ankle?”

“Slowly. That’s why I didn’t get to the radio. There were a lot of soldiers and I couldn’t outrun them, so I waited here.”

“Have they searched this building already?”

“Yes, a couple of times.”

“I saw them moving off. They may be searching a different area. We can wait here until dark and then try and move.”

He moved closer, lifting her chin and looking her in the eye. He was satisfied with what he saw. Her eyes were clear and alert though she looked exhausted.

“You better get some rest.” He told her. Putting down his weapon he slid a small pack off his back. He handed her a water bottle and a couple of capsules, “Take these.”

“What are they?”

“Just antibiotics, you’ve got some cuts. I’ve got a painkiller if you need it later when we move.”

They settled under the stairs, backs against the wall.

“Try and get some sleep,” he told her, “I’ll keep watch.”

She curled up on the floor, her head on her jacket, and tried to sleep but her mind was racing. She had believed that her mission was basically going to be a suicide mission. When she managed to survive she had planned to try and take the opportunity to escape The Section. But Michael was here, obviously the section knew she had survived. It was a good thing she hadn’t run after all.

**************

Two tense days later Michael returned with Nikita. Both looked tired and disheveled but none the worse for wear. Michael was summoned immediately to Operation’s office. Nikita went to Walter to return their weapons.

“Hey Sugar, so he found you, eh?

“Yeah, scared me to death until I realized it was him. How come he was alone? He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Walter just started at her briefly then fussed with some weapons on the table.

“Walter?”

He sighed, “Listen Sugar, he went AWOL after you.”

“He what?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a retrieval, you know that. When he got back from Belgium and found out you were missing he went after you on his own.”

Nikita stared at him. She’d assumed that Operation’s had changed his mind or something. It had never occurred to her that Michael had come on his own. She turned, looking up at the Observation deck. The windows were blacked out and she couldn’t see in. She decided to wait and see what the outcome was.

Operation’s office:

Operation’s was enraged, “Tell me why I shouldn’t order you cancelled? You left here, without orders, on a mission you knew would not be approved.”

“I thought that she was alive.” Michael replied.

“So?”

“She went back for me under those circumstances.”

“She went with permission, you were AWOL!”

“You would never have approved the mission.”

“You’re damn right I would never have approved the mission. If she had succeeded, fine, but she doesn’t fit in Michael, she causes problems.”

“She’s a good operative.”

“She can be but that doesn’t mitigate the fact the she is trouble. I told you at the beginning that she lacked discipline and she does. Now this, You had no right to do this Michael.”

“I wasn’t going to leave her there, you had to have known that. Not after Simone.”

“This has nothing to do with Simone.”

“Doesn’t it? You left her there, you knew she was alive. You knew Nikita was alive.” Michael replied evenly.

“That has no bearing Michael, you had no right!”

“I had every right!” Michael flung back, “ My wife is dead, my son is dead, we can’t say the same for yours!” Operations took a step back, as though struck, He had always suspected that Michael had watched the tape. “ I have done everything you asked of me,” Michael continued, “I have lied, and killed, and hurt, and manipulated. I’ve been tortured for you. I have never asked for anything in return.”

“Is this a threat Michael?”

“No, it is not a threat, I would never hurt your son.” The implication was there. Michael still believed that the Section was behind his own son’s death.

“What do you want?”

“Nikita’s life.”

“And yours?”

“No, I won’t ask you for that.”

“I can’t have you undermining my authority, disobeying my orders, you know that. I will make you no promises. You are off active status temporarily, you will run all missions from here. If you set so much as one foot wrong I will see that you are placed in the abeyance pool, is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Nikita will remain on active status. She completed the mission and had nothing to do with your heroic stunt. She will be assigned missions as she always has been, if she’s killed it will be in the line of duty. I have no intention of coddling her for you. You are dismissed.”

Operations went to the window overlooking the Section and watched Michael walk towards his office. He should have known something like this would happen.

Madeline had warned him that Michael would, could, only take so much. Nothing had ever been said but the mission in Morocco against Red Cell had taken a toll. Combined with Simone’s discovery and death earlier in the year it had been a rough year for Michael. Operation’s was disappointed that Michael had gone against him in this, but not surprised. He wasn’t blind, he knew there was something between the two of them. He sighed, hoping that this would not lead to further trouble. He hit his intercom button,

“Birkoff, send Nikita up to see me.”

She arrived a few minutes later. He stood, staring at her briefly. “I’m sorry Nikita, I tried. I didn’t anticipate Michael going after you.”

“You would have let me go?”

“That was our deal, if you survived I wouldn’t come after you. There won’t be another chance. I’m grateful for my son’s life but there won’t be another opportunity like this one.”

She turned to leave,

“Nikita,”

“Yes?”

“He didn’t know about the deal, he didn’t sabotage your escape on purpose.”

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