title: All the way there and all the way back

a/n: okay, I know this has been forever. But I've had a ridiculous amount of work to do, and three exams, plus coursework. Hence, ... not the top of my priority list. Hell, it's been a long few weeks. On a slightly more relevant note... anyone seen the Shane West interview where he talks about possible love interests on zapit or wherever? He doesn't want michael&alex! Heartbroken, truly.

Plus... cannot wait for Castle. KISS! Yay. And Tony's getting an origin on NCIS in spring.

FINALLY... dude, Ashton Holmes can SING. I listened to 'Talk to me' by Method of Groove on YT, and I love them. One hitch; song isn't sold ANYWHERE that I can find. (UK, boo) so if any of you happen to have the CD (448 pearls) and would like to email me the songs... ILY.

ships: hints of thom&alex, michael&alex.

disclaimer:Ok, seriously, I own nada, otherwise michael would've kissed alex by now. But I'm still hopeful.

warnings: Not much. Some mild language, suggestion of torture. Head games. Nothing fun :)

Thom opened his eyes wearily, trying to recognise his surroundings. The room was spacious, like an old warehouse, or abandones building that had once held itself with grandeur but had long since been forgotten. Someone had replaced some of the old furniture with a computer set, rack of clothes and several weapons caches. He tried to sit up, but was stopped by two things. First was the searing pain in his side as though a white hot knife was being driven through his flesh, and the second was the binds around his wrists and ankles, strapping him to the bed. Thom fought for a moment, before the pain overcame his senses and he laid back, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to control it, to focus.

"I'm sorry about the restraints. They're crude, I know... but the last guy who got shot and ended up here tried to kill me, so I'm sure you can understand my caution." a female voice informed him chattily. Nikita stepped into his field of vision, dressed in an oversized grey jersey t-shirt that Thom figured to be some fancy designer, and tight black leggins. She held a knife in one hand, toying with the blade with the other.

Thom's muscles immeadiately tightened as he braced himself back into the bed, jaw set. "Alex isn't here anymore. What are you going to do to me?"

Nikita cocked her head, looking perplexed. "What?"

"Knives? Is that what you like to use?" he carried on, morbid curiosity getting the better of him. If she were going to torture him, he'd like to be fully aware of what would happen, to pace himself mentally.

"Would I have removed the bullet from your side, removed your tracker and given you a blood transfusion if I did?" she dismissed. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"Blood transfusion? How did you get that?"

"I have friends." she replied vaguely.

He regarded her cautiously, as though he was sizing her up. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, except for you to stop thinking I'm a psychopathic killing machine. That's Roan, if I'm not much mistaken." pointed out Nikita, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. "I need Division to think you're my mole, so Alex's cover stays intact. If they figure out she's really the mole, she'll be tortured and killed. You, with your injury and lack of experience, you're looking at three months on the bench. Hopefully, by that time Division'll be collapsing around Percy's ears."

Thom laughed humourlessly. "You realise that it'll never work, don't you? Once Division's gone, the Government will just form another group just like it, to do the exact same job, with most of the same people. Cut one head off, another just grows in its place."

"Maybe. But they might not be as corrupt as Division is. Its become Percy's private mercenary company, loaned out to clean up after messy criminals and organised crime. Its rotten." she replied fiercely.

Thom pulled at his restraints again, before looking pointedly at Nikita. You mind cutting me out of these things? I'm losing circulation to my hands and feet."

She pointed the knife at him. "As I said, last guy tried to strangle me with his legs, and I stabbed him in the thigh. He was a former Division cleaner. You I would have no problem cutting if you tried anything, alright? You're oh-for-two against me. Three strikes and you're out."

"Division rubbed off on you, huh? I don't mean the violence. The metaphors. We never say what we really mean."

Nikita leaned over him, slicing easily through the restraints. "Fine. You go for me, I kill you. That simple enough?"

He rubbed his red-rimmed wrists, wincing as he tried to sit up. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"I've given you a small dose of morphine, but I'm reluctant to give you more. Last thing I need is you passing out and slipping into a coma. Look, Thom... I know you don't trust me. All you know now is Division, so why would you? But what I'm asking from you now is to just go with this, and don't cause problems. For Alex, not for me. Remember that everytime you hurt this... operation, you hurt her, okay?"

"Fine." he sighed, leaning back against the pillow. "For Alex, not for you."

She stood up, stretching so that the jersey rose up so the material clung to her body. "Good. Glad that's sorted. Veggie shake?"

"Why not?" Thom wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he knew that he was just going to have to roll with it. He couldn't risk Alex getting hurt.

Alex felt the familiar panic rising within her as the invisible band tightened around her chest. She took deep, gulping breaths as she tried to slow her heartbeat, eyes squeezed shut. All she could think about was the blood seeping from Thom's side as Nikita clamped her hand over the wound as she dragged him towards the air vent that would lead them to freedom. Birkhoff had anhialated the shell program so she had no way of knowing if he had survived. She knew they'd got away, thanks to Percy's little pep talk in his office. He'd told her that she had graduated, but advised that she would not get her own apartment at first, thanks to the traumatic nature of her graduation, as Amanda had so sweetly put it. She had no idea who she'd be living with, she just hoped that they were a heavy sleeper, and didn't take forever in the bathroom.

She shook her wrists out, trying to relieve the adrenelin and the panic in her body. If she couldn't control her emotions, she would be no good to Nikita.

There was a knock at the door, and Alex quickly called, "Just a minute!" Michael strode in, ignoring her. "What, 'm I not speakin' English?" she snapped, her accent thickening to 'teen whore' as Michael called it. If she wasn't careful, she'd be speaking with Ukranian accent soon.

Michael looked at her, his eyes filled with barely-concealed concern. "Are you okay? Your accent's slipped."

She let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her curly hair. "Yes. Fine."

He moved closer, hands resting on her shoulders, squeezing slightly. "Alex, look at me. Look at me. " He repeated as she stared defiantly to the side. After a brief pause, she turned her head to face him. "Alex, are you okay?"

She nodded, but her trembling lower lip defied her.

He sighed. "It wasn't your fault, okay? Thom betrayed you, he betrayed all of us. None of us expected it. It's not your fault, and you should stop thinking it is, okay?"

Alex pulled her game face into action, trying to fool Michael into believeing that she was accepting his words. But in truth, she could do nothing but torture herself. It was her fault that Thom was out, and her fault that he'd been shot. She's shot him, for goodness'sake. But Michael couldn't know that. Because if he did, he would want to know why.

Michael studied her face, the barely concealed torment colouring her blue eyes to a hazy grey colour, and he filled with sympathy. He knew the feeling. When his wife and child were murdered, he could feel nothing but guilt and pain coursing through his blood and bones like a raging fire. He tilted his head. "I might be able to do something to take your mind off it."

Alex stared up at him, jaw slackening slightly at his words. Granted, she felt something for him, even if she didn't quite know how to catagorise those feelings. But she was sure that he had something going on with Nikita. At least, from the wistful look in her eye and the adamant defense of his every action, she could presume that Nikita had feelings for him. "I - um, I-"

His eyes widened as he realised how he had interpreted her words, and withdrew his hands from her immeadiately, stepping out of her personal space. "Oh! Sorry, I... I meant I could ask Percy for permission for you to run. Outside, I mean. If we could run outside, you could get some fresh air, clear your head."

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. That'd be good."

He stepped back towards the door. "Give me ten minutes to find Percy and change."

Sinking down onto her bed, Alex tried not to think about the mild disappointment churning in her stomach at Michael's reaction to how she had taken his words. It made her feel like a cheap hooker again, and that was a way she never wanted to feel. He'd looked at her in the same way as the respectable buisnessmen who had been offered her services back in the Ukraine.

She didn't want to feel cheap.

"Percy, Alex lost her friend. The one other person in here who actually gave a damn whether or not she was around. Now, she's got no-one. She's on her own, and she'd fighting her corner solo. Just give me chance to help her clear her head." Michael reasoned as calmly as he could manage.

The look he received from his boss was withering to say the least. "Michael, you know the rules. If we let recruits run around, free, outside these walls, we'd risk exposure. It's simply not feasable."

"She's got a tracker between her ribs, and me on the other side. How would she get away, precisely?"

"She reminds me a little too much of Nikita, for me to trust her fully, Michael. I'm surprised it hasn't occured to you... Unless it has. Unless you're trying to repeat history..."

Michael bristled at the mention of Nikita, scowling. In truth, it had occured to him from her first day at Division. No, when he was watching her in the prison back in Michigan. The strength and ferocity with which she fought instantly sent him flashing back to the young Nikita. And in truth, he did have certain attraction to her. At first, it was for her similarities to Nikita, if not in looks. But then... then he started noticing their differences.

Nikita had never looked for confirmation that she had done a job well, or praise. But when Alex had figured out the meeting between the reporter and her source so long ago, when he had told her she'd done well, and even smiled slightly, she returned the expression with a radiance unparalleled at Division. She still had a glimmer of childish hope, if under a small pile of attitude, negativity and brazenness.

Percy smirked, infinately pleased with his own observational skills. "I thought so. Now you can see why I don't fully trust your opinion when it comes to Alexandra."

"Alex." Michael corrected automatically. "But Birkhoff can monitor us the whole time. We can wear comms. Just give her a chance, Percy. She has more potential than anyone we've seen here in a long time. If you give her the chance, trust her, she could become one of the best."

"As good as Nikita?" he raised an eyebrow goadingly. "I think you'll agree, she was a spectacular force to be reckoned with."

"Better. Alex has something Nikita always struggled to find."

"And what is that. The ability to blend in the 'burbs?"

Michael ignored the racist dig, and glared at his boss. "Compassion."

A long minute passed as Percy scrutinised his young Lieutenant. He was ever-faithful and ever-obedient, but since Alex had arrived, he had had the same look in his eye, the same worrying pride of his latest recruit. But unfortuantely, he was also correct. Alex had potential, that much was for sure. "Fine. With comms, and activated trackers. But you can have your run, Michael, if you're so sure this is what she needs."

The door swung open and Alex jumped up in the same movement. Michael stood with his arms folded, dressed in a black t-shirt with a grey hooded sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He looked good. It was a stranger good, different somehow. As though she was starting to see a different Michael, not just the Michael who trained and shaped the recruits.

It scared her.

She was starting to become accustomed to Division's way of thinking, of their people. Granted, Amanda still gave her the heebie-jeebies, and it would be a lie to say that Percy didn't inimidate her. But the recruits didn't scare her, and Birkhoff was a pushover.

What scared her even more was that she was comfortable with it.

She really needed to see Nikita.

"Congratulations." he greeted her, stretching his neck gingerly, rubbing a musclejoining his neck to his shoulder. "Percy's given permission for an outside run. But... there are some... conditions."

"Of course there are." Alex sighed.

"Tracker switched on remotely by Birkhoff, and these." in one hand sat two wireless earpieces and two clip-on microphones, small and discreet. "C'mere." He clipped the microphone to the front of her white vest-top, handing her the earpiece, before pushing his own into his ear. "These will be monitored by Birkhoff, and I think it's safe to assume Percy will be listening too. And probably Amanda, just for kicks."

Alex chuckled at his expression as he mention the woman who acted as a shrink and stlyish, but doubled as a pschological and physical torturer. Not a job overlap which is pleasant for anyone involved. The woman seemed to enjoy psychological manipulation at an almost sociopathic level. Also not one of Alex's fave five, so to speak. "I can live with it. Thank you, Michael."

He grinned, leading her towards the elevator, before turning to her. "I'm sorry. It's medieval, but protocol nonetheless."

She grimaced as her secured a blindfold over her eyes and her world was plunged into darkness. A few minutes later, she took a lungful of air, smelling the fertiliser, grass and pollen that people complained about so regularly. But after only breathing in the clinically filtered air of Division, and overly-scented air surrounded the few sleazebags she'd been forced to associate with while on operations.

Michael removed the blindfold, smiling at her. "You ready?"

"Race you." she laughed, setting off at a steady jog across the grey pathway towards the green fields.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Birkhoff raised a hand in greeting as Percy and Amanda took their respective seats, the room filled with the sound of Alex and Michael's rhythmic breathing over the comms system, the screen showing their surprisingly speedy progress across the spanse of fields surrounding Division.

"So why am I here, exactly?" Amanda asked demurely, studying the open file on her lap.

"Because I still don't know what to make of Michael and Alex's... relationship. I want to know what I'm dealing with, and quite how much to trust him. How badly his judgement had been compromised." Percy relied with a frown.

"C'mon, guys. Other than Nikita, when has Michael ever been disloyal-" Birkhoff began, but was cut off by Percy.

"During the Mirko Dadich operation. He covered for her, made it easy. Damn near ruined the operation, too. And I'm fairly sure there was more to Alex's failure on the assassination than he's letting on, too. Whether he's covering for her or Nikita, I'm not sure." Percy snapped.

Amanda nodded slightly. "Okay. I'll try to get an idea of the context and severity of their relationship... and how it can be used. " she smiled.

Birkhoff raised his eyebrows. Holy shit, Mike. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into...

a/n 2: Ok, I seem to be going down the michael&alex route. Mainly because I follow Ashton Holmes' twitter, and he's funny, witty and sassy so to speak, and Thom kind of doesn't live up to that. But I'll try keep a balance and remain impartial.

Look out for:
the run
the head games and psychoanalysis
the return of Owen

Review please, you lovely people :)