Secrets: Chapter Read...

written by Tammy

* See end of story for Arabic translation in Chapter 10. The song in chapter 2 is "Hit me" by Sister Soleil from their album ‘Soularium’. The Arabic love song in chapter 10 is "Inta Omri" by Um Kalthoum, I was unable to figure out the album it is from. If you would like the webpage I got it from please email me....)

Part One

Chapter 1

Adjusting the earpiece of his mini com unit, Michael opened the van door and stepped out into the night air. His breath immediately plumed out in front of him. Boots crunching in the thick layer of ice coated snow, he walked up the alleyway to the street. Things were quiet as he looked both ways. Turning left he went up half a block and passed a police officer checking on the plate of a new and expensive looking car.

"Ida, Juliette 589." The officer looked up at Michael as he walked by. "Evenin’," he said. Michael nodded his head at Erik in reply. "Not a good night to be without a hat. Frostbite comes easy on a night like this."

"Just a short jaunt, I’m going right into the restaurant. Have a good night and I hope it stays peaceful." He turned back around and resumed his walk. Doyle’s voice cracked in his ear as he requested switching of the units to channel B.

"There’s only one thing to be doing on a night this cold. And all of us are out of the running for that tonight. Though I think, Iceman, you’ve got the best chance when we get home, eh guys?" There was silence on the channel. Michael allowed himself a sarcastic smile. Doyle still hadn’t won too many friends.

Not that he tried really hard either. Nestor and Flamm from Simon’s group were the only ones that had anything to do with him. If they wanted him, they could have him. No one else really cared but no one else said anything either. Doyle was working his way through the team’s buttons one by one. A confrontation was coming, Michael could feel it.

Erik looked up the block as Doyle made his comment. A frown crossed his face as he pushed his hat up with a flick at the brim. He wondered why Michael put up with the comments. Personally he would have popped the guy a couple of times by now. But not Michael, the guy was beyond the proverbial cool and collected. He would have made an ideal partner as a cop. At that thought, Erik stifled a sigh, because that life was now a lifetime ago.

Michael stopped at the entrance of a small store front with a green and white striped awning. "Return to A.....Sequence on my confirmation." He pulled open the door and a set of bells stapled around the glass panels tinkled loudly into the night air. As soon as the presence of the target and validity of possession were ascertained then Erik and Doyle would go to work.

Doyle’s voice flicked quietly on in his ear again. "Not only do you get the warm spot but you get to eat. Must be nice to be in charge." Michael took a deep breath. Doyle was pushing hard tonight. Where he got the feeling he was immune to discipline was beyond Michael. Snow was calling Doyle ‘Teflon" because of it, everything just slid right off of him. But a big surprise was coming for the operative. Michael hid a genuine smile this time. There were rumblings from other areas that Section One was getting a visitor who was going to be around awhile. He planned on making that visitor Doyle’s own special responsibility....

"Man, I’ve about had it tonight with your mouth. Stay on channel A and focus on what we’re doing. It’s too damn cold for this to get screwed up." Erik was getting annoyed and it could be heard in his voice. Michael was uneasy about that. From what he had seen and read, it took a lot to irritate Erik. He had to be voicing the feeling of the rest of the team. They all wanted the balance back they had before. But with Doyle among them, it was impossible to achieve. The core members were getting restless and it did not forebode well for their second in command.

"Doyle, Erik’s right. Shut the trap." That was Billie. He usually went with the flow so perhaps that meant Doyle was going to start feeling some retaliation, if only verbally. Michael knew he had to watch things did not get out of hand. But the desire to see one of them physically teach Doyle a lesson was getting too hard to ignore. He hoped the visitor rumor was true. The things Doyle would learn dealing with that person, he would not be able to ignore or forget.

The smells of the Italian food being served were overwhelming as he stepped all the way inside. Michael’s mouth started to water in anticipation. The elderly Italian woman who greeted him at the counter walked him to a table. As he sat, she patted his hand. "Ah...good, I know you are always come hungry. I like to see that." she said in Italian. He smiled at her and nodded. "Taddeo," she said, holding up a finger then rushing away.

He grabbed a bread stick from the basket that had almost magically appeared on the table along with a glass of red wine. Looking to over his left shoulder, he saw Taddeo’s young niece slip back into the shadows at the rear of the restaurant. She was all of 6 but refused to be anywhere but with Taddeo. Sorcia, the ‘mouse’ as Taddeo affectionately called her because she scurried all the time, took care of the regulars. Not only did she keep their wineglasses and bread baskets full but she had a wonderful set of ears and a fantastic memory for the smallest details. The child was old beyond her years.

The kitchen door flew open and a tall husky man came out. He had a thick black mustache and heavy black eyebrows, easily 6'5" and broad. His bald head shined even in the subdued lighting of the restaurant. In his hands, he carried a plate which he deposited in front of Michael. "Nonna said you was here." The soft spoken Southern drawl that came out of his mouth had made Michael almost choke on his wine the first time he had been here to check Taddeo out. "Said ya was hungry."

"If I come here, I don’t eat for at least 2 days before hand." Michael replied with a grin and a hand pointing to the opposite chair. "You have your apron off which means you’re not elbow deep in the kitchen. Sit with me for a while. Tell me what’s been going on."

"Two days?" Taddeo questioned with a gruff laugh. "Bullshit! I bet ya eat like a horse. Need your energy for the ladies. No dirty looks either there, Mike. I’ve seen the stir in here enough times. The regulars talk about why you always come alone. Curious myself but matchmaking is Nonna’s department, not mine. Be warned, she’s plotting.... As for this place....ahhh... things been quiet." He motioned with his head to the booth in the back. "Your friend is here tonight. Got that whore with him again. Sorc says he’s telling her about a big payday coming. And that ‘this project is just the start.’ I bet... "

Michael nodded as he took a bite of the spaghetti, silently cursing to himself. He was only going to get a couple more bites of this and it was fantastic. Taddeo could cook...... Why can I not get mine to taste like this? "I saw him. He enjoying the Chianti tonight?"

"Only 2, she’s hitting it hard though. It will be an easy night for him. Might even get it for free... if she don’t pass out on him first." Taddeo said as he made a face in response to a rather shrill laugh from the back booth.

"Tonight will be the last, I hope. How long has he been here?"

"Hour maybe, no longer than two. Well buds, I got a new kid in the kitchen and he’s a bit of a disaster so I better see what he’s destroyed. Later." Taddeo got up and went back into the kitchen. Michael heard a loud curse explode out of the kitchen and so did the rest of the restaurant. Taddeo was the lord of his kitchen, the workers were simply the serfs. And he made sure they knew it. Smothering a laugh, he pulled the plate closer to the edge. He didn’t want to spot the stark white tablecloth, it would seem a shame. He took another healthy bite of the pasta.

Not only for the material but to waste a bit of the sauce.

Michael took another quick sip of his wine. Once things were settled again, he had to bring Nikita here. It was impossible to describe how good the food was time and again. Taddeo’s favorite saying was that the only reason he was a ‘redneck’ as he put it, was because of the tomato sauce in his veins. Michael had decided after the first fork full he ever tasted here that there was magic in there too. That had to be the answer to the way he created his food, it was almost too good to be true.

The man and woman in the booth were oblivious to the people around them, acting in a rather crude manner as snippets of their conversation reached Michael’s ears. A sense of power had a tendency to make weak people sloppy, personally and professionally. "Confirmed presence. Sequence begin...." he whispered as he lifted the wineglass to cover his mouth. Anytime now Erik would be coming in and that would be the end of this meal. He hoped Cornier and his date had eaten well.

Operations had put the man, Peter Cornier, on a wait and see six months ago. Section One had been handed the task to make sure that anything filtered through Cornier got right through to a higher up in the Agency. This restaurant was his favorite place to eat. Michael had cultivated Taddeo and the relationship had proved quite fruitful. But tonight was special, Cornier was off the wait and see. He had been moved to detain and, as long as the intel they needed was on his person, interrogate.

He took another bite of the spaghetti. Hearing the door open, Michael looked up. Erik had come in and was speaking in hushed tones to Taddeo’s grandmother. She led him by Michael’s table to Cornier. There was a brief conversation and Cornier sprung to his feet.

"WHAT?" Erik repeated his story to Cornier. "Son of a .... I just got...is he still out there?" Erik led him out of the restaurant. Cornier’s ‘date’ stayed in her seat. She swallowed down the rest of her glass and looked at the bottle she held up morosely. With a sigh, she got up and unsteadily followed Cornier’s path out of the restaurant. Michael looked back quickly and saw Sorcia dart over to the booth.

Getting up, he put several bills on the table. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small envelope. Scoria came up to him quickly, a menu in her hand. "Finito, Michel?"

"Si, Sorcia." The envelope slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. He started to stoop down but she beat him to it. In her rush to pick up it up for him she dropped the menu in her hand. Michael was impressed, the girl was not missing a trick. No one in the restaurant knew anything other than she picked up his dropped envelope. The move was flawless. He had to wonder where she was picking them up, though. Taddeo’s answer of too much television wasn’t plausible.

With a giggle she picked them up and handed him the envelope back. "Grazie, Lucianna." he said with a gentle smile. She smiled back at him, her very serious face reminding him of a little elf. Then she started to giggle again. Twirling almost on her tiptoes, Sorcia scurried to the kitchen. She liked the games she got to play with Zio Taddeo’s friend, Michel. The prizes were always very good for winning.

He heard a squeal as the kitchen door started to close, then she started yelling for Taddeo. It reached the front of the restaurant as Michael was opening the door. It made him feel good though that Lucianna liked the little gift. He fingered the envelope in his pocket. Hopefully Operations was as appreciative of his, though Michael was doubtful. However, lately his mood had been better, the past 6 months or so seemed to have changed him too. He chewed on everyone now. It felt good not to be the sole recipient of it anymore.

Outside, Cornier’s ‘date’ leaned against the hood of his car. Her arms were crossed and she looked cold, tipsy and peeved. Cornier was having an animated conversation with Erik, who had Doyle leaning against another car whose front bumper was linked with the first car’s rear one. He exchanged brief eye contact with Doyle and gave him a slight nod. As he moved away, Michael saw Doyle move towards the woman.

It had started to snow heavily, while he had been inside, just what he had wanted not to happen. That meant it would get slick and that might delay the plane back. He didn’t want that because he had an apology to give. His bad mood of late had been directed at the wrong person. As Michael turned into the alley, he had Erik yelling in his ear. "Rabbit!" And by the sounds of his voice, he was on the chase.

He was strongly annoyed at having an operative chasing down a target on a night like this. Somebody was bound to get hurt, usually it was the target. Then there was the fact he just knew Doyle had something to do with it. His bad mood had returned by the time he reached the van. He slammed the van door open, startling Walter.

"Lord, Michael! I’m trying to track here!" Michael smacked the door behind the driver.

"Then feed it to Erik and LET'S GO!" He hit the door again and the van lurched forward. He listened carefully to the audio line. "Can you get me video?" Michael fanned through the items in the envelope. Everything was there.

"No!" Walter snapped. "Erik lost his hat." For the age and shape Cornier was he, he was making Erik work for the grab. By the sounds of it, the operative was having trouble keeping his footing. He had already fallen twice according to his well worded comments.

"Doyle, clean it up! Erik confirmed! Don’t lose this guy!"

"Don’t worry Michael. I know my job," came Doyle’s sarcastic retort. Erik’s reply was a muttered curse and a grunt of pain. The feed went dead as Michael stared at the table top. It was time to take the kid gloves off where Doyle was concerned. Damn the patient wait for him to hang himself or that visitor to show up. He had finally had enough, evaluations were on his desk, Doyle had inescapably written his own.

Michael’s eyes and face blank but Walter could tell by the set of the jaw that he was ready to blow. He steeled himself waiting for the explosion, wondering the form it was going to take. But there was nothing. Slowly Walter saw Michael’s jaw loosen and he smothered a snort. He’s getting better with age.... of that there was no doubt in Walter’s mind. Even in their younger days, neither he nor Operations had been like that. He knew he would have lost it before this with Doyle. But Michael just hung in and he kept trying. Walter knew Doyle’s potential was there. He knew Michael saw it, too and kept giving the new guy chances. But so far...

"I think something spooked him. Doyle hadn’t even jabbed her yet." Michael nodded at Walter’s comment. He was right but he wondered about what had tipped Cornier off. If anything it was probably Doyle. He intensely disliked putting blame on an operative for the problems in a mission. But in this case the blame was more than likely correct in its placement.

Doyle was not working out but the pressure to leave him ‘as is’ with full active status was there. As was the pressure to make him live up to the potential he had shown them in his years at Maze and during his re-indoctrination. But for how much longer would they let him go with the continued mistakes? They had to see how it was developing soon. There just wasn’t any good to put in his evaluations anymore. The progression Doyle had been making was stalled. Michael refused to jumpstart it, he had done that before. Now it was Doyle’s turn to make the choice for himself.

"I got him!" Erik barked over the feed. Walter was able to triangulate on Erik and the van swung around to his location. Sliding the van door open, Michael could hear Cornier yelling about his rights and how he wanted to hear them. "You want to hear them?" Erik whirled Cornier around to the open van door and tossed him in. Jumping in, he stood over him. "Listen good! You have the right to shut up! That’s it!"

"You listen, Supercop! I got rights! I know I do. I’m the victim here!" He stopped for a second in his tirade to look at the inside of the van, which was already moving. "What kind of police van is this? What the hell is going on here?"

"Mr. Cornier, please lower your voice or I will be forced to gag you." Michael’s quiet, calm voice caught the man’s attention. He glanced in the direction the voice had come from, his eyes narrowing. At first he seemed puzzled as he surveyed both Michael and Walter. The one who had just talked to him had been in the restaurant. The older one certainly didn’t look like a cop, especially with the long hair and the bandana on his head. Then he turned his eyes back to Erik, eyes widening with realization that he was in deep trouble. His partners were going to be livid, if he made it back to them.

"Just who are you people? Where is Phyllis? What did you do with her?" There was a note of panic in his voice. He struggled into a sitting position, looking rapidly from one man to the next.

"She doesn’t know anything. Where are we going? What do you plan to do with me?"

"Your questions will be answered soon, Mr. Cornier. However, I do urge you to be as cooperative as possible with us." Michael started to pull his cell phone from his pocket.

"US! WHO IS US?" Cornier was on the urge of complete panic. He had been warned to be careful and he hadn’t. He cursed his own recklessness and stupidity. Something in his head said he wasn’t going to see Phyllis again either.

"Make Mr. Cornier comfortable please," Michael asked in a neutral tone. With a much gentler movement than he had used to toss the man in the van, Erik hoisted him onto the bench along the wall. Cornier looked him right in the eye with a pleading expression. Erik tried to pay more attention to the quiet conversion Michael was having with Section instead of the way Cornier was looking at him. "Obtained....yes....45 minutes to an hour, depending on the airport conditions....yes of course...."

"I don’t want to die clueless. Tell me who you are. I can do things for you." Erik held up a small tube. "I can be very valuable to you. But I have to be alive for that to be true. I can do so much for you."

"We know. Just try to remember that. If it helps, think of us as friends of a friend." Erik pressed the tube against Cornier’s neck and the man slumped sideways. With a sigh, he got to his feet and tossed the com unit along with the tube on the table.

"What happened?" Michael asked as he pulled the earpiece out. "What made him take off?"

"Doyle goes to go for the girl but the street right there was kinda icy. So he’s not moving too quickly. The bimbo picks then to pass out. He gets to her just as she pitches over and Cornier sees him grab her before she hits the gutter. He rabbits off down the street like a sprinter. These shoes..."he pointed grimly to his feet, "....aren’t made for slippery sidewalks. I almost killed myself. Think Clarienne’s got some good muscle relaxers back ho....there? My back is gonna need ‘em later."

"And Doyle?"

"Taking care of the car and the girl. Pollins grabbed the other car. Housekeeping was all ready at the pickup point."

"Fine." was the answer from Michael as Erik gently lowered himself unto the seat at the end of the table, rubbing his right knee and lower back at the same time. Looking over at Cornier’s slumped body, Michael hoped they had all they needed. He was looking forward to an uninterrupted non-working meal at Taddeo’s with someone who would appreciate the food as much as he did. And if the weather didn’t hold them up, maybe he and Nikita could make some plans...

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Nikita flopped in the chair across the table from Christine and took a deep breath. "Do you ever stop?" Christine stopped in the middle of chewing on her lo mein to briefly consider the question. Knitting her face into a serious expression, she took a sip of her drink.

"No, why?" She broke into a wide grin at Nikita’s arched eyebrow. "Come on! Do you know the last time I went shopping for something other than groceries? Much less shopping with another female? I’m having a ball! I don’t remember all these stores the last time I was here!"

With a laugh, Nikita took a bite of the sandwich in her hand. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Cause they added an addition. And don’t get me wrong, I ‘m having fun too but you’re a turbo shopper. Lose the jet shoes, we’ve got all day. And with the snow last night, we can get undivided attention from salespeople. ‘May I help you?’ Aren’t we the luckiest pair?" Christine shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and studied Nikita as she ate. "What?" Nikita asked with a mouthful.

"Don’t pick on salespeople and don’t talk with your mouth full. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?" There was a laugh in her voice but by the sour face she got in return she changed the subject. "What is that thing you’re eating?"

"Gyro. It’s pita bread, some stuff that’s like hamburger, lettuce, onions, tomatoes and some kind of yogurt sauce. Sam makes them on Thursdays. This isn’t as good as his but... want to try some?" Nikita extended it towards her. Now it was Christine’s time to make a face.

"No thank you. Just keep it over there in the other side of the table. Sounds awful." She started taking another bite of her lo mein when Nikita started to snicker. "And that is in comment to?"

"Reese calls noodles like that ‘wums’. ‘Red wums’ is what he calls spaghetti."

"And what’s a ‘wum’?"

"Worm, as in earth." She made a slurping noise and Christine gagged as Nikita burst into giggles.

"You’re terrible! " Christine burst out and took a big drink from her cup. "That wasn’t nice!" she declared as she pushed her plate away. "Oh forget it now. That was my appetite that just crawled away." She pointed a finger at Nikita. "You even think of saying slither and I’ll throw something at you." She got a grin in return but the light of it just didn’t warm up her friend’s cool blue eyes. With a sigh, Christine spun the fork around on the table with her finger. Something was bugging Nikita, it was probably the kids. "Ya miss them a lot?

Nikita had started to take another bite but put down the sandwich again. Now her appetite was spoiled, too. Slowly she pushed the plate away. "Yeah, more than a lot. And it’s not just them, I miss... him too." she said in a low voice. She missed the Michael that had been at Cala with her too. So much for his splitting in two routine. All she had gotten to see lately was his Section face and a painfully angry and aggressive man. It just made the ache inside worse.

Christine could see the look on her face. Realizing she had stepped on a delicate spot she had promised herself she wasn’t going to do, she thought quickly. The subject needed to be changed, again. "I can’t believe you made me buy that thing."

"What thing?" Nikita wiped her mouth and took a drink. Nikita knew what she was doing and decided to go with her. She would cry tonight while she was alone with the package that had been somehow slipped in her bag at the market yesterday. Looking at it for the umpteenth time and letting all her guilt, regrets and sorrow out to play.

"That outfit. What a contraption." Christine said with a pout in her voice. She watched as a sly smile spread across Nikita’s face. Nikita had debated getting a similar one but had opted for a gorgeous white silk gown with a burnout design.

"They love those ‘contraptions’. Fantasy time or something....but the results....you’ll see. Besides you’ll look great in it. Peridot or celery green, whatever they call it, is a good color for you. Makes me look ill. I just know that big galoot of yours will like it. He won’t be able to resist you..." Nikita said coaxingly.

"He doesn’t need encouragement. Believe me.....and I don’t suppose yours does either. No, you are the one who’s gonna look great. The pattern is placed ever so.... strategically" As Chris made motions across her body, they laughed together knowingly. "Ahhh.....speaking of guys....has he said anything to you about things?"

"If he means Michael and you call our screaming match two days ago anything, yes. I wish you and Simon would work whatever these ‘issues’ are out with him."

"Sorry it caused a fight but, Kita, he was gonna leave it. He was going to walk away from it. I couldn’t stand by and see that. What that maniac did to us.... I’m having a hard time dealing with ...... Hell, with all of it. I still am. I can’t put it to rest."

"And you think he isn’t going through the same thing? Have you seen his mood lately? It hasn’t been very nice.... Hell, I’m gonna just say how I feel here. You guys have me in the middle of this and it isn’t fair. Admittedly I expected to catch a little heat from him over knowing and not telling him. But I figured he would, in time, understand. It’s not like he’s never done it. Time just seems to be moving slower than ever before. Still, with him, that isn’t really anything new when it comes to his family or his emotions. I’m just not enjoying his unending bad mood. Truth be told, I hate it. Especially when it gets directed at me the way it was the other night. He has a cruel streak, Chris, and it hurt a lot this time. An awful lot."

"Like I said I’m sorry but...."

Nikita took a deep breath. "Wait. Hear me out. I can see where Michael is coming from and I can see you and Simon too. I can see where you might have a problem with talking to him about things because of what went down. You two have an awful lot to work out. But Simon doesn’t have that excuse. So he’s miffed about something. That’s plain to see but what is it about? If he doesn’t tell Michael what .... Damn it, Chris! They’ve been side by side for 8 years. Get him to vent!"

"Yeah...So what’s that gonna do? Put both of them in an even worse mood? I’ve heard it enough lately, too. My little brother is not the only one with a cruel streak, believe me. No, I’m not going to touch it. Let them deal with each other."

"No?! You’re gonna let these two act like they’re in kindergarten over whatever it is? You can’t let this paved over their closeness. It’s going to spread to the two of us. Do you want that to happen? I really like how close we’ve gotten. Kinda like I got myself a sister too." Christine didn’t answer her, but instead looked back down to the fork and resumed spinning it. Nikita played with the straw on her drink. She didn’t want to use guilt to make Chris face things but nothing else had worked so far.

"Well it’s not like they’re beating each other up or something." Christine offered matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, right now it’s the ‘or something’!" Nikita snapped. "I don’t want it to get physical!"

The three of them had not talked to each other for weeks. And for all that time Michael had been as unapproachable as a snarling dog. Each attempt to suggest significant time together had been rebuffed. He just wanted to be alone was all he would say to her. Finally she’d gone to the cabin, night before last, feeling lost and alone. She needed to talk to him, maybe if she was able to tell him about Taylor, the guilt would stop.

But instead it had erupted into a major fight with him using Taylor as ammo before she even said anything. As she walked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she was leaving a part of herself under his feet. Then he had slammed the door behind her, a sound that had hurt as much as what he had shouted at her.

After crying out tears she didn’t know she had left and cooling off, she had gone back to apologize for getting mad only to find the cabin empty. Knowing how he had been dealing with upheaval, a quick check with Darcie revealed him in the exercise room back at Section. Right where she had figured he would be. Nikita had decided to leave it at that. If he wanted to talk, he could find her without a problem. He hadn’t tried yet.

Tension at Section was running at an all time high, too. There were arguments and even a few fist fights had broken out. Simon and Doyle were right down in it too. Doyle had stepped up his barb attacks too. And Nikita swore he was playing Michael and Simon off each other. Erik had voiced concerns to her yesterday before going on a mission with Michael’s team. He was close to placing as he put it ‘a fist in Doyle’s asinine mouth.’

Madeline had put herself above it all and just walked around observing. She struck Nikita as being almost pleased with what was going on. Her presence irked Nikita enough. The way she was acting only made the irritation worse. Operations gazed down from his loft, obviously unhappy with everything. He had been snappish and more ogre-like to everybody, no one had managed to escape it but Darcie.

Even he and Madeline were on the outs. Nikita really didn’t care, just as long as Madeline stayed away from her. In fact if both of them stayed away it would be great. She only wanted to be in one place and right now that wasn’t even close to a possibility. It suddenly struck her that there was a lot of just looking around going on by Operations and Madeline. Even to the point that they were checking out what each other was doing, right? Or is it more a point of them waiting to see if Michael is going to do anything? It really isn’t his problem to take care, is it?

"He’s got to make the move. He was the one who screwed up." Christine’s words brought her out of her reverie.

"How so?"

"He made it their matter. It wasn’t, it was a family one. This was about our family, Kita. Not Section. Jon went after our futures. Nobody else’s." Christine’s jaw was set much the same way Michael’s would get. Nikita knew she had a brick wall in front of her and either she needed to knock a hole in it or climb over. Neither was an easy proposition. To avoid it would be great, but that wasn’t a choice.

"I’m only going to say one thing to you.... ‘They’re all lies’. Ring a bell?" Chris fidgeted around now uncomfortable in her chair. She should have known that Michael would have told Nikita about that. At the time, it had been necessary but now she regretted it. However she wasn’t going let him or Nikita know that. Even though she had the feeling, Nikita knew how she felt about it.

"That’s what I said. I don’t need it repeated. I remember it quite well."

"Then you seem to forget that Jon went after all of us. Not just ‘our family’ as you call it. He attacked Section as a whole. Whether we like it or not....we make up Section, too. We lost friends in this, Chris. Scotti, Franklin, Patrice.... It had to be handled properly."

"By one of us! Not somebody from Section!"

"Bring your voice back down.....you don’t get it, do you? He had wanted Jon to make a move and then Erik was to take care of him. Come on! This had to be above board. Personal hints make Oversight nervous and curious. Makes ‘em stick their nose in it. And personal was all over this! Like Briar Rabbit in the tarpit! They poked at it enough as it was. There was a hell of a lot to lose, for all of us."

"Then maybe a few noses would get tweaked....big damn deal."

"Tweaked? How about they get pulled by the nose ring and put somewhere else? Or Oversight really starts looking into things and they find ‘discrepancies’ somewhere? Somebody will hang for those. How about if they found out certain ‘things’? What do you think would be done about that? You want to keep your ‘family’ intact? I do, too....We’re not going to lose either of them. Do you understand me?"

"If he was so concerned about all that why the hell was I in Medlab for a week and a half? He’s suppose to be Mr. Cool Headed. Nothing rattles Michael. ‘Iceman’ as Doyle calls him. And I end up with a bullet in the back?" There was definite anger in her hissed words, that upset Nikita. Yes, Michael shouldn’t have reacted like he did but if Chris could just see it from his point of view. Jon had the power to take everything he cared most about away. And that was the one thing Michael truly feared. It had happened before and like he had said at Cala, he wouldn’t survive it again.

"You sound like you spent it all alone and was treated horribly. You had more visitors than a traveling display from King Tut’s tomb!.... OK, I admits it hurts really bad. I know from experience. But God, Chris, he could have killed you. That was what he was going to do to Jon. He at least had presence of mind enough to pull the shot as he did! Do you forget Jon was armed too? It would have been just as easy for him to have taken the shot at you. Point blank and then we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Chris flashed angry, resentful eyes at Nikita before dropping them back to the tabletop. Nikita continued in the same tone of voice as before. "Drop the blame, we don’t need more of it. If you absolutely feel the need to blame somebody then blame Jon for being the nut case he was and Philippe for being one too. " Nikita was not happy to see that Chris’ expression getting tighter but she plunged on. " The two of them stood guard over you till you started to wake up. I couldn’t budge him till he knew you were alright. He was as close to devastated as I’ve ever seen him. Even worse than when he lost Simone the second time."

Chris’ only answer was a bitter sneer. Nikita wished she could get the whole story out of her about why she had disliked Simone so much. Chris refused to say anything about it. "You know Jon pulled the same kind of parent comment stunt on Michael that Philippe did. He knew what buttons to push to get him to react. And Michael did exactly that. Both of you should have stayed put!"

"You heard what he said. He was the one who did it!" Christine said, her teeth clenched stiffly together. She could feel the grip on her temper slipping.

"And you believed him? You’re just as pig headed as he is sometimes. Jon got exactly what he wanted out of the both of you! Hell, all three of you!" Nikita snapped angrily. She looked back down to her straw and flicked at it with her fingertips. She was not going to be goaded into another go around about this with Chris too. The one with Michael had been bad enough.

"You sit there and say stuff about getting taking care of the anger, about getting things out in the open. How about some truth out of you then, girlfriend? When are you going to tell him about the little side action you had going on downstairs?"

Nikita’s head jerked up guiltily and she knocked over her drink. "Si...side action? What do you mean?" Grabbing napkins from the dispenser, she tried to sop up the liquid.

"Simon and I talked. He told me what happened in Van Access but that I had to kept my mouth shut. He was ordered to keep quiet. He told me who else was there too so I know who else knows about it. How long do you think you all can keep it a secret? I know how you talk in your sleep when you’re upset. God, girl! You know how he feels about...."

Tossing the damp napkins on her plate, Nikita grabbed her bags and got up. "Hey I want to check out that new pottery shop. Let’s go. Need to walk off..." She started to go by Chris who grabbed her arm.

"Kita, you can’t bury this."

Looking down at the hand that held her arm, Nikita took a deep breath and decided to look Christine straight in the eye. " IT already is."

"I wasn’t..." Christine knew she had now touched a major wound for Nikita. And it was still bleeding badly. It should have been bandaged before an infection set in. Unfortunately it was too late, she was already seeing signs of one. "Kita, please...."

"Look...you deal with yours....I’ll deal with mine. OK? Let’s shop."

--------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

Practicing with a laser was fine but there was nothing like using a real piece to get your stuff back. However for CC getting her ‘stuff’ back was proving to be a bit difficult. With a mumbled curse of frustration, she pulled the target profile up the gallery. As she waited for it, she removed her goggles and ear protection. Then a disgusted look formed on her face as the silhouette stopped about a foot and a half away. Yes, she had hit the thing but not anywhere near the spot she had aimed for. Jerking it down, CC looked to the end of the gallery. Things weren’t turning out like they had after London. It just wasn’t coming back.

Hitting a few buttons on the stand beside her, she leveled the gun at the set of intersecting black lines at the very back of the gallery. The red lines from the trajectory sensor hugged them for about 5 seconds before they began to shake just as her hand and arm were. With a small grunt of aggravation, she brought up her other hand to steady its companion. The same amount of time passed before the shaking started again.

"Damn it!" Her shout blended in with the sound of the gun being slammed down onto the stand. She bit her lower lip as she stared down the gallery that seemed to be getting longer and longer every day. The thought made tears spring to her eyes and that only made her madder. "There is no use in tears, Constance!" she hissed, reprimanding herself.

The specialist words floated through her head, "compression injuries to brachial plexus, previous injuries with accompanying scaring..... resultant axillary nerve palsy, affecting anterior through posterior section of deltoid..." What parts inside the words referred to, CC only had a vague understanding of. What she knew was that she was unable to hold her arm steady enough to accurately fire. And to only make matters worse, somehow it had happened on both sides, so her aim was affected either way. Their esteemed medical suggestion was retraining as opposed to surgery. They felt even as a last resort the surgery would be more harm than help. What could be successfully repaired would be insignificant at this point. In other works, they had no guts and she was screwed.

Just fancy words and suggestions from someone whose life didn’t depend on whether they could fire a gun or not. Or a steady hand to disable a sensitive bomb’s trigger or that of an alarm system or pick the lock of an office....she gave a small cry of rage as the things raced through her head. The idea that she might not be able to do her job again made CC like she was being eaten alive from the inside out. It made her fear the future for the first time. She hadn’t been this afraid since the first time out with Daddy.

For 8 years this job had been the biggest part of her life. 3 years ago it had become her life. There wasn’t reason or need for anything else. A solution to the stigmas and lessons learned while growing up was now becoming its own version of torment. It was all THEIR fault, too. Their petty little soap opera had chiseled into her life and left a huge gouge. "Damn them all!" she whispered fiercely as she raised a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes as they closed, willing the tears back.

Pietro’s face formed in the darkness behind her lids. His soft brown eyes that twinkled as he smiled or glowed when he got mad; the Roman nose and proud square jaw. The tilt to his head when you dared him or challenged him. The comfort she usually found in imagining that face was gone. Now those eyes only closed and the handsome face turned away from her sight. All that was all her own fault. She had let Jon Jae Min get away with it again

It had been three years and she still would wake up at night, sensing Pietro there. Only to discover how cold and lonely it really was. Why did you allow us to get so close, Martina? Why did you let me be so god awful stupid about him? Oscar had wanted to know what made her so hard. All he has to do was just see a fraction of what she had seen of Pietro after he was returned by Jon’s men. She had made a promise on her knees, in cold hard shock, that morning in Israel. But she hadn’t kept it, there would be no revenge for Pietro.

Mac watched CC stoically from behind the protective shielding. She was not bouncing back from the whole incident at Section One as he had expected. In fact he had expected a full rerun of London, not just the small part that had happened. And he knew CC had harbored the same ideas. The statements from the doctors that had looked at her had been discouraging to say the least. The blows to the sides of her neck and skull, movements made before treatment and the length of time treatment had been withheld all counted against her. In the end the only things in her favor were her great physical condition and her will to be herself again.

He gave a sneer at that thought. CC had not been herself since that operative she’s been sleeping with had bought it. The strong, competent but moldable girl who he had sent to work side by side with Martina to learn the operative role and thought processes had vanished. The hardened bitter woman who had emerged was tough to face. The early CC had been a good friend, an embattled soul who needed to find a way to fit in. The new CC was a bitch, a vicious, bitter one. One who didn’t care whether she fit in or not. And to make matters worse she encouraged that kind of view of herself, kept her ‘looking forward’ as she put it. But he knew what it really was for, it was so she didn’t have to look beneath her facade. She could go on someone else’s perception and not have to see the real person. There was still the wounded little girl under it all.

Frowning he opened the door, he knew what she was thinking about as she stood there with her hand over her eyes. He had read the reports and he knew what had happened when she had started to come to in Section One’s Medlab. It had essentially been the same thing she had done in London, she had called out a name several times. Even called one of Oscar’s operatives by Pietro’s name. Doyle, much to the man’s credit, had soothed her so she didn’t have to be restrained. It bothered him to know she could be so vulnerable to the hurts of the past.

Resolution showed on his face now though. CC had to put that horrific but useless episode from the past away for good. It was detrimental to her and to her career. She carried enough baggage around from Miles, she didn’t need this as well. Mac was not going to let her destroy herself with it. She almost had the first time and he had warned her about it then.

Ever wonder Cornelius if that’s where this boulder was carved from? Your warning to pull it together or face dire consequences? To let things go back to the way they had been if she didn’t cooperate and act right? But Cornelius MacLaird was not a man to regret what he said or did in the past. He planned everything to the tiniest detail so that the outcome of the situation was to his liking. His newest project though was causing him problems. The variables kept changing.....

CC lowered her hand and opened her eyes as she heard the door open. Pain filled eyes leveled at Mac before her usual icy hardness took over. He was not the person she wanted to see right now. Time alone was all she craved. That and peace, though she knew there would never be any hope on this earth of feeling it. Section One had taken that with a single bullet to Jon Jae Min’s head. Without keeping her promise to Pietro, there would never be peace inside again. She knew it as clearly as she knew her father was evil incarnate in her eyes.

Stooping down, Mac picked up the target silhouette that had slipped to the floor. "Still a little off

wouldn’t you say, Connie?" With a grunt, she snatched it out of his hand and crumpled it up.

"Not really trying too hard today, that’s all." She grabbed the gun and ejected the magazine. Mac reached out and stopped her hands.

"You call 4 hours straight in here not trying too hard? Don’t lie to me. But most importantly, don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. It doesn’t make it any better."

Glaring at him for an instant, she pulled her hands away. "Keep your endearments. I have no use for them." She didn’t like delicate, never had. And it was obvious she wasn’t interested in comforting or understanding. Fine with him, they weren’t his style either. It was time to plainly lay it out for her. He had made step one with Michael. Now it was time for step two, CC.

"I’ve had to make some hard decisions recently, CC. And they affect you."

"Me?" CC didn’t like the sound of those words. She prayed it was not going to be as bad as his tone of voice implied.

"I’m disbanding Investigations. Their duties will be fed into Oversight." He waited for the onslaught but was mildly surprised, a rare occurrence that felt so strange. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He considered for an instant. No, he did. CC didn’t explode, just stared at him blankly for a moment and then blinked. He had assumed and the assumption hadn’t played out. That was something else he did rarely, make a mistake. He needed to plot his course a little more care-fully.

"Ah...what? What about my post? What about....my sta...." she stammered tightly before she clamped her lips shut. Now Mac could see the volcano building. He held up a hand to cap the lava flow that was rising in her eyes. So he hadn’t been wrong....

"CC...."

"The old Dog holds the reins in Oversight! What the hell am I going to do there? His people are all hand picked. He doesn’t like me in the least anyway. Shit..." She turned from Mac before she couldn’t fight the urge to throttle him any longer. And the morons in Section One thought they had it bad. HA!

"You’re not going to Oversight...exactly." CC spun and grabbed the gun along with its magazine. She smacked Mac in the chest with them.

"Between the eyes please. That way I can’t think or feel before I die." Their eyes locked and silence held them both for a long minute. "WELL? DO IT!" she screamed in his face. Mac shook his head. "Don’t you have the guts to get rid of me yourself now that I’m useless?"

"Useless? HA! No where close my dear! You’re going be my eyes and ears as long as I tell you to be. Just keep in mind, YOU need to leave Pietro in his grave, resting in peace."

"Yeah what I could find put in his grave..... I don’t think about him anymore," CC replied in a suddenly flat voice.. His face popped up in her mind’s eye again and she fought like crazy to keep the tears from showing. Right now she couldn’t afford to be weak in Mac’s eyes. Slowly she released her grip on the gun and bullets. They hit the floor with heavy metallic thuds. "And I won’t be your little patsy bitch either." Brushing by him she went towards the door.

"Constance Camille McHughes, I made you! I can just as easily destroy you."

CC stopped with a hand on the handle of the door. "No Daddy made me. You reworked me. Destroy me? Hell, I just gave you that option. You refused to take it. Besides what would my dear daddy have to say about that? You know how much he loves me. I’m his masterpiece"

The sarcastic comment struck like a hard right. Mac pitied Miles, the girl hated him more than anything in the world. Next to that Min character and he was a moot point now. He didn’t exactly fear Miles if anything happened to CC but he preferred to be cautious. People thought Cornelius MacLaird was dangerous. Then they didn’t remember Miles very well. Now that man was dangerous, frighteningly so. No compassion, no remorse, void of everything except one thing.........the man reveled in death.

"He won’t have anything to say today and nothing tomorrow either or the next day unless I tell him too. That was part of our agreement, wasn’t it?"

She turned back around to show Mac her hate filled eyes. "Just keep him away from me. THAT was our agreement." There were numerous times he had looked in CC’s eyes and thought of molten lead. Here was another to add to the bunch. Then he saw the darkening of her eyes and tightening of the muscles in her body. Mention Miles McHughes in her earshot and it started. She was walling over herself as they stood there.

Time to sound his Jericho horn, the wall was coming down before it even had a chance to get very big. "I have an assignment for you.....It’s Section One."

CC’s mouth dropped open at his words. Shock #1 had been bad enough but shock #2 for the day almost put her on her butt. He saw her sway on her feet along with a tremor that ran down her body. "WHAT?" she shouted at him. "THAT HOLE? NO WAY, MAC!" First my job and now being told I’m going there! God I hope I step off the curb in front of a bus!

He continued calmly and evenly, almost as if she hadn’t shouted at all. "There’s four people I want you to watch. Operations, Madeline, Michael and Nikita. Tell me what they do, who they see, where they go. Rumors you hear, you follow up, you verify and you repeat them to me. You see anything ran against either Michael or Nikita, you cripple it. Better yet, you kill it. Nothing touches either of them. I have plans and I want them around for the fruition. Everything comes back to me, CC....EVERYTHING."

"And if I don’t want to? Operations made it real clear he wants me no where near his ‘people’. Level 8 was the threat, I believe." Slowly she folded her arms across her chest. "I want nothing to do with any of them. They’ve taken enough!"

"You think Daddy made your life miserable, wait to you see what I can do. And I know you’ve seen my expertise. Get your stuff together, we leave in an hour. Oscar is already expecting us." He breezed past CC and loudly closed the door behind him. She jerked at the sound before she could catch herself. Yeah, she had seen him in action and personally it was something she never wanted to see again. Because she had enjoyed it a little too much. And then there was the way she felt about Section One, it was almost as bad as Daddy....

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

Chapter 2

Erik pulled the cushioned glove back as Nikita spun out of her kick and danced back. The girl was hot, the kick had stung all the way up his arm and down his back. He stretched, working out the kinks from last night’s chase. Sitting on the runway for 5 hours had not been easy. How they had even gotten the plane in the air, he had been unable to figure out. It was almost as if Michael had willed it to happen. He had waited, growing increasingly impatient. That was something Erik had never seen before. And from what Billie had told him after they were in the air, it was not something you usually saw either. Something had Michael wired ....

And now Nikita was acting almost the same way. Only she was just looking for an excuse to do some serious damage. Whatever was troubling her was getting worse as the days passed. He had asked about it and she had told him not to worry about it, working it out was her concern not his. The words had been spoken harshly and Erik had been irritated by them. Nikita had been pretty easy and open with him since he came here. But now she was tight mouthed and angry all the time. In fact, she had been that way with the whole team.

Eyes that were as cold and hard as ice stared at him. "I didn’t say I was done." With a sound of disgust at her growled words, Erik threw the gloves on the floor and motioned at her.

"Come on, you want to beat up on something? Let’s stop the crap and get down to it. Take a shot, maybe you’ll feel better afterwards. I’m not afraid of how hard you hit. Come on! You want to hurt something, here’s the offer. Hurt me! " Nikita crossed her arms across her chest, breathing hard. Her stare and stance lost none of its anger. "Come on, Nikita! I want to see how tough you really are."

Yeah she wanted to beat on someone, but it wasn’t Erik. She was the only one that deserved the beating and mentally she was doing a great job on herself. Chris’ words from yesterday still had her infuriated. "How long do you think you all can keep it a secret? ....Kita, you can’t bury this."

That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Why won’t it just stay there?! It existed because she couldn’t get it out of her head. There wasn’t enough to keep her occupied, unless she counted the argument and other assorted fun stuff that surrounded Michael. The estrangement between him and Simon, over basically territory in her opinion, and Chris’ own disarrayed feelings were not something Nikita wanted to be dragged further into either. That was just asking for trouble beyond what she already had. Watching the video tape of the kids and looking at the things they had sent did just so much. Even talking ever so carefully to Walter hadn’t helped. A quick debate went on in her head about stooping to talking to Raymond. But his side lost fast. It isn’t that bad yet, right? she asked herself

Shaking her head, she started to move past him. There was no way she was going to accept Erik’s ‘invitation’ or stay here glaring at him so she just got madder. Maybe if she just headed down to the white room and screamed for a while, something would happen. Maybe she could shred some of this pain and guilt that was shadowing her insides. She had just reacted to his words and not thought of the consequences. Now her thoughts were a chaotic mess. ....how could I do that to my little girl...how could he not care... his own daughter...

Exhaling loudly, Erik put an comforting hand on her shoulder, he just wanted her to open up to him. He had a good idea of what she was going through. He had felt the same way when he had been brought into the Section world. He missed his own children like crazy, but in a lot of ways they were better off without him. Especially because they weren’t part of this otherworldly existence. From what he had seen and had picked up, everything that was important to her did.

Nikita’s fist flashed up and rammed into the crook of his elbow to move his hand off of her. The other hand came up and he caught it before it hit his face. Erik managed to snag Nikita’s fist in his free hand and was surprised by the look in her eyes. It had gone from cold anger to an intense flare of fear. Then the expression she had been flashing for weeks resurfaced. It was quickly replaced by the angry shadow she had seemed to have in most other circumstances.

"Let..go ..of .. ME!" She yanked at her restrained wrists but couldn’t get him to let go. "I mean it!!"

"What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird! Did something happen while you were on that special mission? Maybe when you got back here? Did that Jon guy do anything to you?" Nikita yanked again at her hands, trying to free herself. Erik held on, as tight as he dared without hurting her. All he wanted was an explanation. If he didn’t get one here, he was going to Michael about it. They had a thing together, he must have some kind of idea that she was having a problem.

Nikita was seething, she just couldn’t get her wrists out of his grip. All she wanted was him to let go. He had no right to touch her but she couldn’t stop him. It used to be only two men in Section she couldn’t best, Simon and Michael. Now it was three and although he had been here a while, she still didn’t know Erik like she did them. Even with Simon’s history, she felt no fear of him at all. And for that matter, she had put any she had of Michael’s temper to rest, too. There was no place for it in their lives. He wasn’t like Taylor...Eric might be and she wouldn’t be able....

Her thoughts rolled one over the other before the one in front was finished. Erik felt the change in the way she held herself and the tension that surged through her body. He changed his grip, unsure of what she was going to do. "Nikita, I thought we were friends. Friends help each other, let me! Tell me what I can do! Tell me who to go to help you." He said the words fiercely and thought for minute that he saw some kind of acceptance in her face. "The whole team is worried..."

Nikita hated the rage that running around inside herself. If she wasn’t crying, then she was practically exploding. She had to do something, had to make this stop. Making a noise that told Erik she was going to fight back, he felt her shift her weight. He knew Nikita was going to try to throw him off balance. Fed up with her whole attitude, Erik let go and she fell to the mat. With hands held up, he backed away from her shaking his head. "Forget it! You’re on your own!"

Stalking away in contempt, Erik didn’t look back at her either as Nikita struggled to her feet. Feeling dazed and confused by her own feelings and emotions, she stumbled from the room. The scene from the access tube playing in her head again. Nikita could feel panic starting to rise up in her throat. You can’t keep this up. You’ve got to get this taken care of. You’re gonna crack out there and get yourself or maybe someone else killed. The song from the club joined the scene in her head.

Destroy me, control me, humiliate me,
Use me, abuse me, penetrate me
Degrade me, strip me, resent me, push me,
Shove me, shake me, decimate me

That’s it, I’m going insane. I’m going to be just like my mother. Only it won’t be drugs that fry my brains, it’s going to be the ghosts and their voices that never go away. Nikita dug a hand into the hair on the side of her head in frustration. She had to leave and go home. That was the only place to hide now that the cabin seemed to be off limits.

"Interesting performance." The words stopped her dead in her tracks. Gathering herself as much as she could, Nikita turned to face Madeline. The woman hadn’t approached her in weeks. For that she had been glad. If Madeline had even attempt to come close after the incident with Jon and the events that followed, Nikita would not have been able to take any responsibility for strangling the woman. The fiery urge to kill had died down to a glowing ember. But it would not take much effort to stoke it to life again.

"I see you decided to crawl out from your favorite rock." Madeline gave her a thin smile. Nikita snapped her fingers and pointed one at her. "But that’s right, you gave up the rock. You’ve been poised on that little throne of yours, looking down and seeing what else you can get into. Who are you planning to ruin next?"

"You do enjoy being offensive, don’t you? Do you think that since you couldn’t provoke Erik that you’ll have better luck with me? I’m not biting, Nikita." Nikita gave her a venomous smile and moved closer.

"That’s true. You did learn that the last time. Didn’t like the mouthful of feathers from that crow you had to eat?" Madeline looked Nikita up and down carefully.

"Doyle’s nickname for you is very appropriate."

"Oh that’s such a lame comeback, Maddie. Come on, be more creative. The last time you did so well. Don’t tell me you can’t live up to your past glory! I really would hate to have to retire you now....you’ve got a few years left in the barnyard yet."

Madeline’s cool gaze continued its study of Nikita who in turn fought the chill that wanted to run down her spine. "You’ll need more than a quick wit and sharp tongue to make it where you are suppose to end up. You need a thick skin, Nikita. You don’t quite have that yet. You need help to get one." Nikita smiled at her and that made Madeline wonder just how much of an impression the incident in Perth had on the girl. Brennan and his partner had been buried too deep for her to find and that made it impossible to confirm if there had even been any lasting effect of the contact.

"The only place I intend to end up is out of here. Away from the manipulations and lies that make up life in Section. I don’t need a thick skin for that." She started to walk away but stopped as Madeline laughed softly.

"Remember my dear, the price of freedom is eternal vigilance." Looking over her shoulder, Nikita sneered at her.

"Is that a threat?"

"No....merely a warning." She smiled in her ambiguous manner. Nikita nodded as she turned her head back around and started moving away again.

"Oh, OK.....here’s one for you too." She turned around but kept moving, though backwards now.

"Knowledge is power...in the right hands....." Whipping around, Nikita kept on down the hall as frown formed on Madeline’s face.

"And how much do you hold?" she muttered softly at the now empty hallway.

------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------

As the mission had off loaded, Michael had fully expected to see Operations hovering at the head of the corridor waiting for them. But instead it had been deserted and quiet, the only good point of 5 hours of waiting to take off. Yes, it had been a welcome relief from a plane ride back that had been just as quiet but much more emotionally charged. Erik had kept giving looks at Doyle, who in turn gave them to him. There wasn’t hate or anything like that, just the usual anger and resentment. It had bothered him and Michael knew it had showed. He had allowed a weakness to show. It was inexcusable and something to work on.

Besides that, Michael felt doubts about his evaluation and recommendation for Doyle. Perhaps he should have held onto it a little longer, maybe they just needed a bit of quality time together. Just enough to discuss the physical properties like hardness and density of say...a concrete wall, his inner voice said sarcastically.

Silently the team had filed away, some to debrief and others with Walter. Michael had stood in the stillness and absorbed it for a minute. The wish that some of it would reach inside unanswered. His feelings of isolation and uneasiness had been on the increase and it had been his own fault. Everything inside was jumbled out of place and he just needed the time to find the right shelves again. The problem was the shelves were no longer there. He had no where to put anything. And the one person who could help right things wasn’t talking to him. But then that too was his fault.

He got up from his desk chair and looked out the blinds on his office window. Things were back to running at their normal pace in Section. But the smoothness that had been present was gone. Tensions and petty animosities had been magnified by Jon’s version of a coup d’etat. And he had not made a move to relieve or solve any of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but Michael couldn’t see clear to fix anyone else’s problem with his own so prominent. It would be almost hypocritical to give orders or advice he couldn’t make work for himself. He couldn’t do things that way anymore.

Michael flinched as he heard someone in the hallway slam a door. That reminded him too vividly of what he had done to Nikita the other night. She had come to the cabin in an attempt to draw him out and he had lost it completely. The argument had been emotionally wrenching. No that was just a mild description for it. A tremendous amount of the residue left from Jon and what he represented spilled out from both of them. Then Christine, Simon and his alienation from them reared up. In response he had thrown the subject of Taylor right in her face. Then he’d made the stupid comment about being a substitute for him.

What has possessed him to say it, he hadn’t been able to figure out. Maybe he finally was reacting to her own comments about her and Simone’s places in his life. He had avoided the dining room chair by sheer luck. Never had he seen her so wildly furious. For the first time he was worried about what she was capable of doing, not to herself but to him.. There just had been this look in her eyes. He had never seen such....he still wasn’t sure even of a name to put to it. But it had, for some ludicrous reason, felt good to see. To see the look in her eyes, made what was thrashing around inside of him less painful.

The slap across his face still rang in his ears along with her words....Where do you get the right to be so cruel? There is no comparing.....God! Do you have any id.... Not finishing, Nikita had turned and ran out the front door only to stop as he called her name. She turned to look at him in the doorway with that look still in her eyes and he had slammed the door in her face. He hadn’t seen her since and it served him right.

He had been hateful and cruel to her, she hadn’t deserved it either. She should have been the last person to lash out at. Time and again, he realized she was one of the few who really understood him, both good and bad. As much as they seemed to need each other, all he had done was push her away. Why were there such powerful highs and lows in their relationship? If they ever got free, what would happen? Would they make it together or wind up ruining each other’s lives in addition to Katie and Reese’s?

Every time we get angry, we strike out at each other. Why do we keep up the hurting? His musing were cut short by the knock on his door and its opening. Erik stuck his head in. "Have you got some time, Michael? I got some things to talk about with you."

"Of course." Michael motioned to the chair at his desk and Erik slid into it. He looked around and then directly at Michael.

"Privately please," Erik asked. With a nod of his head, Michael sat down and keyed in the security system.

"What‘s wrong? Is this something personal?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"This is not...." Erik began, "going to be a leader/operative talk or a operative/operative talk. At least I hope. I want this to be guy to guy and ‘off the record’. OK?"

"If you prefer....."

"And I don’t want the formal looks and tones either."

Michael smothered the reaction before it fully bloomed. Erik’s file from Section 4 said he was direct, it was right. He looked like he wanted to ask something. "OK." he answered carefully.

Settling back in his chair, Erik held his head up with his hand as he studied Michael for a moment. The scrutiny wasn’t uncomfortable. Michael felt it from quite a few people around here. Lately it seemed everybody was trying to figure him out. They have to get in line behind me he thought to himself. He kept his eyes steady on Erik who still seemed to be contemplating either himself or what he was going to say.

There was an air still around Erik that said cop. He knew the man’s file well, anybody who was around Nikita that much, he knew inside and out. Though actually he made it a point to try to know something about everyone who came in. It was safer that way for everyone. Erik, how-ever, was one of those good ones that the outside world had been unlucky enough to lose. But it was a great gain for Section One and its associated areas. Erik had worked undercover before and knew the routine. But like the rest of them, he had not been without his troubles. His very experience with undercover work had been the whole reason for his exit from the regular world.

But a kind of loneliness also surrounded Erik, one that Michael sensed but didn’t understand. But he didn’t know the former Mountie well enough yet to ask. The file had indicated that he kept to himself a lot, being a rather private person. Stable, hard working, focused, perceptive were the words that had appeared in all his evaluations. There was also a note about the attachment he had with his partner in the real world. It had been the hardest link for them to mitigate along with the ones to his children. That kind of loneliness had a particular aura attached to it, he was used to seeing it with Nikita. But that wasn’t exactly what he saw in Erik.

"I know I haven’t been here all that long but I’ve been in other places. I’ve heard and now I’ve seen that you and Nikita are more than close. And I am not trying to horn in on your territory or anything like that." He flashed a quick smile at Michael who looked away to the window. Erik had caught sight of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, too and knew where Michael’s attention had been drawn so completely. Nikita meet Michael’s eyes and then looked to the floor as she hurried by.

Erik didn’t miss the looks that had been exchanged. He knew how Michael felt. He knew how much he missed his own, no matter how much had not happened between them. Nikita reminded him very much of her. Strong, physically and emotionally, quick to get anger but not always to forgive and she always stood up for her beliefs. She had been a good friend and been just as much in love with him as he with her. Only it had been a little too late before either had wanted to see or admit it.

Where he had been based before, they had kept him updated on how things were going back...home and with the kids. To him, that’s what the place had become, home, even if he had not been born one of them. He had been accepted, even more than he thought. Maybe he could work the same deal here. Dreams of being there and around those who he had come in the past few years to recognize as his family were getting more frequent, again. Last night he has awoken and swore that he had been there at the campsite. He had even smelled the coffee and the stew, heard the crackle of the fire and the gurgle of the river.

Michael continued to look out the window. "Ah...Michael?" Erik said. "I need a favor."

Breaking himself away from thoughts about the fight again, Michael focused on Erik. "I’m sorry. Umm....you mentioned Kit....I mean Nikita."

Yeah, just what I thought. The favor gonna have to wait. You looking for something and so is she.... OK I don’t know what, maybe it is the same as me....so I’m game....I’m worried about her, too and was going to make a point of saying something....let’s find out how much I’ve been hearing is true.... He leaned forward, an elbow on each knee. "I’ve heard stuff and I’ve been told stuff. I just want to know, I guess, what her story is. Since the Min crap, she’s got a different feel to her. She’s changed; jumpy, irritated. You can’t lay a hand on her shoulder or get too close to her without near getting belted."

Erik stopped for a minute, picking his words. "She was really easy with the team before but now closed up is the best way to describe her. But I can deal with it. I can cope with almost anything except the look I keep seeing in her eyes. She keeps her guard up to hide behind but I’ve seen it. Looks like she been hurt real bad and that hurt is rotting her insides."

"Things have not been easy for any of us lately. People are bound to ‘feel different’ till they are confident things are right again."

"It’s more than that. You know it and I’m seeing it. Listen, being away from your kids never feels routine. Even more so in this place. Their innocence is a real contrast. Makes the temper tantrums and the messy rooms insignificant." Michael’s eyes seemed to snap off and Erik knew at least that rumor was true. He and Nikita definitely shared something with the little boy that had been the center of the storm, he just wasn’t sure about the other one.

He saw Michael open his mouth to speak but he got his in first. "Don’t forget I have two of my own. I see the look in the mirror every time I use one, because I have it too. I know there’s the little boy, the one Jon wanted and I’ve heard that she’s got a little girl. I know you’re not Reese’s father and I don’t think you’re the father of hers either. Right?" There was silence from Michael.

"OK I get it, not a subject open for discussion. You’re quite the guy for wanting to be one for them though. They must be great kids and no matter what lucky. So what about Nikita?" He looked expectantly at the statue sitting behind the desk and followed it with a sigh as he looked down at his feet. "I’m not trying to pry. Maybe since I know that you two have something outside this place. I thought .... hell I like Nikita, she reminds me a lot of someone I miss a lot. I hated seeing her get upset, I guess I’m kinda projecting that on Nikita. Feeling protective, maybe. I thought you might feel that way, too."

"Nikita is more than able to care for herself. And I don’t talk about one operative to another."

"Eh, I understand. Private lives not up for clarification either. I guess I just have this need to understand the people I work closest to. I don’t like to work on false assumptions and half told stories."

"Then maybe Section One is not the proper placement for you." Erik seemed to consider Michael’s words for a moment before he stood up.

"I said I don’t like to work that way but I know how to go with the flow. I just wanted to put it out there that I understand some of what you’re going though. I got ears if you need them." He started to open the door as he cast a last look at Michael. "And I’m serious about Nikita. I know you don’t feel it’s appropriate to let me in. Fine, like I said, I’ll deal. But take care of her. I hope you can fix it, whatever it is."

The door was closing behind him when he stopped again. "Oh and by the way, the next time you and Nikita take a profile together, I’d like to be considered too. They tell me the two of ya make a hell of a team, I’d like to see you in action."

Michael watched Erik walk past the window. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of what had just taken place. Had Erik been truthful with him or trying to set him up for someone? Madeline first came to mind and then Doyle. Or was Erik more than he seemed? He knew quite a few things. Whether he had been coached or the talk around Section was really that accurate it was hard to decide. Both were plausible but neither was desirable. Especially the thought that Erik had been coached.

His conversion with Mac came to mind. Suddenly Michael got the feeling that Erik was there at Mac’s behest and his defenses geared up. It was time to stop walking on eggshells with Nikita, things had to get back to normal. Now someone else had seen her ‘look’, time to get to the bottom of that, too. He just knew the road they had been on was not going to get any smoother yet. Especially if Mac was going to start pushing, the ability to choose might not last for long.

"I think it’s time to keep you close Erik.....watch you a bit better. Doyle’s spot just opened..." It would wait till later though, there were other things to make sure they worked out first.

End of part one...

written by Tammy

Continue on to Secrets: Chapter Read..., part two

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