Fait Accompli VI

written by Tammy

Chapter 11

The bedraggled figure that slipped out of the gloom on the landing puzzled Doyle. Darcie was usually kind of loud and energetic. Right now she was neither and after what they had pulled off he expected something much different. His wait for her 'triumphant' return had been a waste of time. He stood up from beside Michael who was just beginning to show signs of regaining consciousness. As she approached them, the rest of her became clearer. He could see the dark splotches on her t-shirt and jeans. He was uneasy too about the look on her face, something was wrong.

"Darcie?" he said softly as he reached out and grabbed her left shoulder. The noise of pain and the drop to her knees in tears scared him just as much as figuring out what the stains on her clothing were from. He made a quick check of her to see where the blood had come from. The only injuries besides the ones from CC was the small cry of pain whenever he touched her left arm or shoulder. There were no sobs with the tears either, just the drops coming from each eye and rolling down her cheeks. With a gentle touch, he removed the gun from around her torso by loosening the strap.

As it fell from her shoulder, she struggled to her feet and went over to the small vanity against the wall. Sitting down, she buried her head into the arm she laid across the top. Her left arm hung limply against her. Leaning the gun against the wall, he went to go over to her when he heard a soft groan and movement from Michael.

His head throbbed terribly. Jon had been enraged over his refusal to fight him. It had only made him more angry and his assault a sloppy one. Michael had been able to easily fend off everything Jon had tried. The one good hit Jon had gotten in had been the result of an awkward step. Michael's attempt to move sideways for a better stance had made his knee collide with the edge of the chair. It affected his balance and put him at a disadvantage. As he always had, Jon saw an opportunity and he took it for all it was worth. He also consistently used the method that would be the easiest for him. It had also often the one that inflicted the most damage. That meant going for the head.

The last thing he could clearly recall was Jon telling him that to live he had only to tell where Reese was And now he was here. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again. His first impression had been right. He was in Madeline's old office. But they had taken it apart when they built her the new one, right? He took a deep breath and started to lift his hand to the side of his head. "Careful when you touch that. It's gonna hurt." Gently Michael touched his scalp. The lump on it was painful and large.

Then he concentrated on the person speaking. As he did that, he gingerly touched the sore spot he felt on his forehead. The voice belonged to Doyle. Puzzled Michael focused on him. He had been sure that once the pain and dizziness subsided he would still be in the white room. Doyle's presence made him consider other possibilities. The first one being was that he was really either still unconscious or drugged so make this scene happen. The second was that he was really here because somehow Doyle had gotten him out. The third one he had no desire to put words to. But hell wouldn't have Doyle in it, would it?

Doyle crouch down next to him. "You feel like standing up?"

"Not yet," Michael answered hoarsely.

"Who'd you mix it up with?" Michael looked up at him with squinted eyes. Before he answered anything he was going to make sure this was real. He reached out towards Doyle who gripped his hand.

"I thought you weren't ready to stand up." Michael withdrew his hand, satisfied that everything he was seeing was real.

"What's going on?" It was better to get another version of what he thought or what Jon had said. He was going to need as much information as he could get to formulate some plan...

"Jon took over Section. He used Christine and Simon to get in. Most of us are locked in somewhere." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "She got me out. I was in a cell with Simon. They separated us and next thing I knew she was making me climb a rope out of there."

"She?" Leaning forward and wincing a bit at the pain in his head, he saw the hunched figure at the desk. He wasn't sure but it looked like Darcie. "Darcie?"

With a nod of his head, Doyle sat down and leaned against the wall too. "Yeah, she got this whole place mapped out in her head, Michael. But not just the hallways, I mean the WHOLE place. HVAC system, crawlways, maintenance tunnels. We've covered a lot of ground behind these walls." He tapped the brick wall above his head with a knuckle. "She's been creating a little havoc to make them nervous."

As if on cue, the lights went out. There was about a minute of blackness before they came back up. "Birkoff helping her. He told her where....this is too dangerous for...."

"No," Doyle quickly spoke over him.

"No?"

"Only thing she's had to do with Birkoff is to let him know she was out. She cracked the mainframe by herself. She had an idea of where everyone is and how heavily guarded. She wanted you to get the perimeter lockdown codes. She wants to turn Section loose on Jon."

Michael looked from Darcie to Doyle. A grim smile on his face. "Are you game?"

"Do I have a choice?" Dark eyes glared at him. He could see anger though he didn't think it was directed at him. And he saw worry and pain too. Doyle tried a weak smile "Smart ass remark....just trying to lighten things up." The look on Michael's face didn't change with his words. Doyle gave himself a mental shoulder shrug. He didn't count Michael among his favorite people anyway, so why should he expect it of him? He was surprised to see the emotions reflected in Michael's eyes though without an attempt to cover them.

Leaning forward again, Michael looked over to Darcie. "Is she asleep?"

"No, upset and crying over something. I was going to find out when you came to. She's hurt too, left arm."

"Darcie?" She didn't acknowledge him at all. With clenched teeth, Michael slowly got to his feet, brushing off Doyle's efforts to help. Gingerly he moved closer to her. Fighting the dizziness and throbbing in his head, he got down to one knee next to the chair. Somewhere along the line, she had cut a good amount of the length off of her hair. The bob that was very similar to Katie's was gone, now it was almost the same as when she had come into Section, minus the wild colors.

He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he thought about Katie and Reese. There was no way in heaven or hell Jon was getting his hands on either of them. They're my children... He wished he knew where Nikita was and if Jon had done anything to her. Jon had gotten powerful because Michael had ignored him. The man was going to get his full attention now. He glanced up at Doyle. "Do you know where he has Nikita?"

Before Doyle could answer, Darcie raised her head. Her face was red and wet. "I'm sorry, I was trying!" It was easy to see the bruising on her face.

"Mon Dieu, Darcie!" He reached over and moved her chin to the side so he could see her face. "Who let you practice without headgear?"

"Nobody, she got in a fight," Doyle said, his tone colored with annoyance. CC could have killed Darcie with the kick to the face. The only thing that had saved the girl was she was moving as fast as she was at the same time as the blow.

"Who?"

Doyle made a slight face before he answered. "It was CC. She started it too. From what Darcie said, CC has been on her back since the first time they saw each other."

"And what else? Was this resolved?"

"Operations was going to take care of the situation."

Darcie shook her head as she looked at the floor. "I warned her before. She just didn't stop...." She looked up to Michael with dull eyes. "I'm couldn't stay in the chair. I lost control...." Both men noticed the sudden quaver in her voice. The light that flared up in her eyes took Michael back. He wasn't able to tell what had caused the anger. "I LOST CONTROL!!"

She spun on Doyle, throwing a punch at him that missed as he backed up. "And it's YOUR FAULT!!! We didn't need those guns. I didn't need to have that gun!!!"

"What is your problem? Back off of me you little wench!" Doyle was getting mad at her. It was her fault he was in the middle of this mess deeper than he had wanted to be. Where did she get off getting blowing up at him now?

"I didn't even know the guy! And I decided he wasn't worth living? Where does it say I get to make that decision? I'm not God! It isn't mine to make. That belonged entirely his maker! NOT ME!!!"

With a demeaning short laugh, Doyle turned from them, pushing him hair back with both hands. "Man, no wonder they pulled your ass out of field ops." He spun back around. "You're god damn little..."

"WE'RE NOT ANIMALS! WE DON'T NEED TO KI..."

Stepping in front of her, Michael held up a hand. At first he had thought the dried blood on her clothing had been her own. A fight would have explained it quite well. But now he knew it wasn't. Darcie had to defend herself at some point after they got him out. Having to make the choice to kill in self defense or be killed. A choice she had found impossible to make before... "Darcie, we're not animals but sometimes to continue to live as a human.... in our world, it becomes necessary."

"It was wrong," she whispered at him. "I had no right. It's not my choice." Michael knew there wasn't going to be many ways around her convictions. Nikita had told him the key she had found to unlock the door to Darcie had been truth and trust. This was another door but what was the key?

"Tell me what happened. " Slowly Darcie told him of the mad run from Jon's men and her try to get to Nikita. Could the key be Nikita herself? The girl was scared and would want the one person she felt understood her. Possibly the only one she felt totally safe around and trusted. That could only be Nikita. He needed to use that link; maybe she would not entirely change her mind but at least she could function until this thing ended. If Doyle was right about her and the mainframe, he was going to need her. Michael had the codes to lift Jon's lockdown but he had only a vague idea of what to do. Everything lifting at once would caught someone's attention. Hopefully she could fine tune it enough to open individual areas. He wanted to ease the control away from Jon, a bit at a time.

"And what Jon is doing, isn't wrong?" Michael asked her. "He's already hurt me. This isn't the first time. Just another in a long line of them. He's hurt..." Darcie lowered her head with a slight shake to it. She didn't want to listen to him. She didn't want to think of what this Jon could have done. He had a mean streak that was bigger than any she had seen before. Even with the mafia thugs her parents had been involved with. With a finger to her chin, Michael lifted her head back up so he could see her eyes. "...Christine. What do you think he's done to Nikita?"

Darcie had been ready to make a bitter remark to him when he mentioned Nikita. It brought renewed tears to her eyes. In the time that had passed since she had seen them in the briefing room, what had the creep done to her? " I saw them in the briefing room....he tried to choke her. I watched him throw her on the floor, kick her in the back. They watched. All they did was watch....." her whisper ended as a hiss. Michael could see the anger in her eyes as she thought about it.

"That's what you saw. What about what you haven't seen? If one of them had interfered, what do you think he would have done then? Their inaction was a help to her. Ours isn't, for anyone right now. We've got to end this. I need you. Nikita needs you."

"She could be hurt..." Darcie's voice trailed off. Michael knew she had not been really listening to him. Knowing her as he was getting to through working with her and listening to Nikita, the girl's head was likely full of different scenarios. Her prelims had shown a extraordinary grasp of tactical situations. She filtered through possibilities like a sieve, rapidly weighing out each one. Then she picked the best one, had each time in the test, finishing in less time than he could have himself. She backed up from him a little. He could see a hardness starting in her eyes and tightening to her mouth.

"Or dead by now," came Doyle's blunt statement. Both she and Michael looked over at Doyle. He shrugged at them. "Anything is possible with this guy. He got in here, didn't he? He has control and dictators don't like those who don't follow his whims."

"SHUT UP!!!" Darcie screamed at him. "No one asked you!"

"That's right! I wasn't asked! I was told to do this. Told to do that. Screw it all, you little snot-nosed bitch! I'm not interested in getting killed over this!" With a growl of anger, Doyle whirled away from them and started up the ramp. "You people get your se...." The bullet hit the floor just in front of his foot. He stopped in misstep and looked over at them.

Michael held a Glock in his hand, now aimed directly at Doyle's head. "You've been warned about running away when a team is in trouble." He watched as Doyle dug in his back pocket for the gun. It was gone.

"What team?" Doyle demanded as Michael leaned down and grabbed a hold of the M-16 from the floor, eyes and gun never moving off him. He flung it at Doyle, the sound of it hitting the cement echoing loudly in the tense, silent room.

"The one we're going to turn loose. Darcie, get us to level 10. Doyle....," he motioned Doyle to follow Darcie was she moved passed him on the ramp and into the darkness on the landing. Expressing his feelings with a loud disgruntled noise, he went up the rest of the ramp to the landing. As he was swallowed by the shadows too, Michael lowered the gun and took a deep breath.

"If she is, hell isn't getting you in one piece, Jon."

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Snow blew at her from all sides and it made the road beneath her feet slippery. But the voices she could hear in the distance made her fight against the wind. No matter how many times, she fell to her knees or flat on her face, she struggled up again and kept trying to move forward.

"You're making the wind. It won't stop until you let it pass by you." Nikita ignored the voice and kept pushing her way through the storm. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"I won't give up like you did, Momma. I'm going to fight it all the way." Though the wind was almost deafening, she didn't need to shout to be heard or strain to hear Momma either.

"Mara, you gave her that thirst to fight. Nothing slacks it. She had to fight to survive your mothering. Remember? Why can't you just leave her be? Admire, not belittle her strength. She's smart and strong. She's a good person." Every time she heard the other voice she had to close her eyes. Martina sounded like she had so much confidence and pride in her. Why couldn't Momma be that way too?

"Mama!" There was Reese's voice carried by the wind. He was somewhere at the end of the road. She just had to get there.

"Mom!" Reese's call was always followed by Katie's. Nikita knew they were together up there. No matter how bad this storm got, she was going to get through it and get to them. They needed her. The bits of snow were like shards of glass hitting her eyes. She squeezed them tightly closed. Now she only felt the stinging on her face and bare arms.

"Is that worth fighting so hard for? Whining..." Nikita wished as the voice drifted into the wind she could see the woman. Show her the faces behind those small voices calling out to her. She could maybe understand a coolness with Reese. But with Katie, her own granddaughter....

"My children are worth fighting for. I love them. Why didn't you ever fight for me?"

"I didn't love you." The words hit her like a fist. The wind knocked Nikita backwards and held her to the ground despite her struggles. With a cry of fury, she managed to roll onto her stomach and start to claw her way forward again. Listening to Momma or even paying any attention to her was stupid. It wasn't going to do anything good for her or the kids. Best to ignore the woman and move on. But the dirt was so cold and hard, it sent sharp stabs of pain through her fingers and up her arms....

With a whimper Nikita forced her eyes open against the cold stinging wind only to realize she laid on a bare floor. The air was still and cool, not as it had just been. It was pitch black but only for a second as the lights came on again with a dull hum. Then life hit her again and she knew that she had been dreaming. Reality was the floor of the holding cell near van access she was laying across.

Nikita groaned in pain as she sat up. Her body hadn't hurt like this since.... she couldn't even recall. She could remember Jon slamming into the room, so furious he was literally spitting in her face. She remembered how Michael had described how Jon would get frustrated and furious over a situation. Unable to resolve it for himself, he would strike out at whatever he felt he could get the most satisfaction out of hurting. For some reason he had decided she was prefect for that purpose.

He had attacked her brutally. There was nothing for her to do but try to return the attack. His mouth had run the entire time. Nothing that he had babbled made any sense to her. Things about Michael and his constant disrespect for what mattered most. His refusal to be what he was suppose to be. There was not way he was going to get away with it was what Jon muttered several times. His anger over the stuff with Simone seemed to be cooled. Nikita hadn't given that too much credence anyway. If it had been that big an issue for him, why wait so long on it? There had been plenty of opportunities in 14 years to get back at him. He had made comments about Martina and Reese too. She just knew if Jon got his hands on Reese, she would never find him again.

That realization made her resist him more but her efforts were futile. Not only was he bigger but he was stronger and just a bit faster than she was. Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, she had deliberately dropped like she was dead weight after a powerful punch to her jaw. It wasn't hard to look dead, it was a fleeting temptation as she hit the hard cold tiles. Death meant this stopped for good. He wasn't really paying attention to her anyway, just his own rage. Nikita doubted that he really thought she was, but she wasn't fighting back anymore and that seemed to deflate him.

But trying to stay conscious was hard, she didn't want to be out of it and have him so close. Her ears were ringing and the room felt like it was whirling around her. The concentration she needed to keep her breathing slow and very shallow plus sense what he was doing was almost too much. Fortunately falling with her face to the floor had helped. Squelching the scream of pain as she kept herself limp when Jon kicked her savagely in ribs that were already likely broken was almost impossible.

She pushed her hair out of her face and then rubbed the dried trickles of blood from her nose and the corner of her mouth. Nikita tried to calculate how long she had laid on the floor. She had no idea. For a while she had slipped in and out. At one point hadn't she heard shouting and running in the hallway. Then a scream and the sound of a gun firing? She wasn't sure about either sets of noises. At one point she had been sure she was back at that chemical plant with Michael when he had gotten shot and she had gone with Madeline to get him out. They had wound up restraining her in the van till she had calmed down and Simon had talked some sense into her. That had been so kind of delusion, so those sounds could have been from her mind too.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly eased herself to her feet, leaning against the wall. It was amazing how fast a room could spin when it wanted to. The stab of pain that raced through her head made her gasp and sway in place. She had expected pain out of her ribs not her head. Swallowing hard, she brought a hand up to gently massage her temple. She could hear Michael in her head telling to have Chris check out the cause of the headaches. She couldn't remember Jon hitting in the head, just the face and body. Anyway, it had felt just the couple she had got at Cala. With the way her head had just wanted to explode, she decided to give in to Michael. "OK, I'll have her look. I'm sick of the headaches."

Thinking of him made her worried, she had to try the door. Moving gamely, Nikita limped to the door and yanked at it. There was just enough room to fit her fingers in the seam between the door and where it fit into the frame of the wall. They hadn't fixed it since they had that guy from Albania in here who had gone berserk. Probably because this cell was rarely used, but it was still locked tight. Frustrated, she smacked it with an open palm. A grunt of pain came out of her as the vibration went up her arm. She leaned back against the door and looked up at the ceiling. As the lights went out again, she whispered, "Just stay alive."

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"Change it to some short quick outages for about 2 minutes in duration. Then a longer outage, lasting a minute 30. Leave them alone for about 10 minutes then start the cycle again. It will be just enough so either Doyle or I can get the person's attention and pull them in. Have you been able to fine-tune the other operation?" Darcie held up a hand in a wait gesture.

With a sigh, Michael paced back and forth behind her. Curbing his impatience was getting more and more difficult the longer she worked at the terminal. Darcie was fulfilling his requests as fast as she could but he could feel the time slipping by. Time that was precious to them. The longer Jon held control the worse he would get.

That was why Philippe had kept him on such a short leash. Jon got easily frustrated and would then try to lead through sheer fear. He would snap at the smallest perceived slight or miscue, making 'cool headed' a poor description for him. It was amazing that Philippe had managed to have so many with that kind of temperament around him. Was that why Simone and he had been such favorites of his? Because they were both so different from the others?

Wincing a bit from dizziness as he turned too quick, he moved back to the other side of the box he had mentally drawn out on the floor to pace in. He still hurt a lot but he refused to give into it. Safety for everyone in Section was more important than how much his head throbbed. As he waited for Darcie to speak, he glanced over at Doyle. He sat on the floor a ways away from them, running a piece of cloth up and down the barrel of the M-16. Michael frowned, not only because of Doyle's behavior but his own, too.

The point he made in the office should not have been made with a gun. Intimation were not going to make Doyle any easier to work with, perhaps an apology would. Extend an olive branch such as Operations had done, it had worked for him. Operations had offered that chance to work on making a future beyond the reach of Section's poison. Michael had taken it, even though he wondered how long it would last..... Perhaps if he offered remorse for his actions to Doyle, the effect would be the same. An easing of tensions, it couldn't make things worse, could it?

Doyle looked up as Michael's shadow appeared over him, his jaw set and eyes dark with dislike. "What do you want? I'm behaving myself. Just waiting for your next command, oh holy one." He went back to watching his hand slide the cloth around on the barrel of the gun. Not that it was really doing anything but it was better than staring at Michael's back and hating him.

"I want to apologize to you for what happened upstairs. I crossed the line." Doyle let out a cynical laugh and shook his head, not looking up or saying anything. "I'm mean it, Doyle."

"I bet....Iceman had a little meltdown, didn't he?" Gradually Doyle got to his feet. He belligerently shoved the gun at Michael. "Keep your stinking apology. I don't want it. Maybe you can use it for everybody else around here. This whole situation has crossed line. Why are we stuck with fighting your battle? So he wants his little brat back! Let him have him! Save us a whole shit load of problems. I'm fed up with your personal issues causing me grief." He took hold of the weapon as Michael shoved it back.

Darcie looked up as Michael turned away from Doyle. The look on his face was the same as it usually was, blank but the way his eyes burned. She couldn't stop the tremble that went through her. Doyle you are playing with fire....back off of him! Don't you get this team thing yet. If it hits one of us, it hits the rest! Regardless of how they say it doesn't! Or how it shouldn't.

"No!" The word shot out of Michael. He walked to a panel and keyed in a code. It slid up and for a while he stared into it. The disks inside shining in the light. They held the past. All that had been, all that everyone of them had been. How many of them had a 'someday' planned or hoped for before Section came along. How many had been made to give it up? And died without hope of reaching it ever?

There was no way to make Doyle understand the emotions tied up with this. He wouldn't have the ability to grasp the agony attached to losing everything that mean anything to you. To lose that hope of a future and then to have one suddenly dropped in your lap. That made it seem even more precious than the first one had been. This was his second chance. Michael was going to let nothing take it away from him. Not Doyle, not Section One, not Jon, not even himself .

"Why the hell not? Are you enjoying this or something? Getting masochistic in your old age?"

"He's mine." The words were soft but the edge to them carried easily to both Doyle and Darcie. Carefully Michael pulled out what looked like a miniature CD. There was a label on it but Darcie was unable to see it from where she sat.

Michael closed his eyes. All he could see was the four of them sitting on that rock at Cala. The one that was along the road from the estate to the town. It was craggy there and they had found a set of rocks to sit on and look out over the town in the small valley below. The night sky had been so clear. Nothing like it was here. The moon was waning and the stars glistened in the dark blue. Nikita had been pointing out one of the constellations she knew, Orion and trying to remember the words to a song that went with them.

She had pointed out the North Star which had prompted Katie to ask for the story about it. Neither he nor Nikita could remember it except that the Dippers were also bears in some stories they had heard. Then Nikita had told them that whenever they felt lonely and needed to feel close to them, they only had to do one thing. Look up at the North Star, because where ever either one of them was they could see it too. Where she had gotten the inspiration for that he didn't know, but it had etched that simple quiet time together inside of him. "He's ours," Michael said, softly again but without the edge.

"Come on!" Doyle urged, distaste clear in his voice. "You ain't got a chance in hell of being anything to that kid. Except maybe a foggy memory!" The cracking of the CD in Michael's hand made Darcie cringe. Doyle was pushing him, he liked to mess with Michael a little too much. Hadn't he picked a fight with him, similar to what CC had done with her? One of these days he was going to go too far. Hopefully it wasn't going to be right now.

The CD dropped to the floor and Michael brought his foot down on it loudly. Darcie could see the trickle of blood on the back of his hand. He had cut himself with the disk. "Jon's memory," Michael's voice was calm, almost gentle as if comforting a small child. Darcie could picture him talking like that to Reese. They watched him pull out several others. As he said each one the anger got stronger in his voice.

"My parents'..... Philippe's......Simone's.... Nikita's....MINE!" He brought the disks down with such force on the edge of the console that they snapped in half. He tossed them across the floor between him and Doyle. Darcie swallowed hard, she was dreading what he was going to do next.

Michael's eyes locked onto Doyle's. Doyle kept himself from stepping backwards. The look in the eyes was nothing he had felt focused on him before. Simon mentioned demons in this guy that worried him. Ah Doyle, my boy, you might be better backing off! I think one has appeared. "Why don...."

"That's all we are. Just a foggy memory, right? A memory of what we were out there... what we once were? Nothing at all, right? A mist that burns away in the sunlight? A star that fades at dawn? Just like hopes for the future? Not anymore. Not for me and mine!" The last words were forced out of tight lips and gritted teeth. He moved back to Darcie. The anger suddenly gone. "We've got some people to find, Jon's had long enough to play. Then get into the intercom system and play that music of yours that everyone complained about when I tell you to. I want Simon, Erik, Billie, Pollins, Snow....."

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Raymond moved restless about the room. The flickering of the lights had increased in their frequency. There was a set pattern to it but he was unable to decipher a message from it if that was the purpose. He sent another glance over to see what Foller was doing. He was still aggressively pacing the floor. Foller went to the door and hammered on it again. Raymond had told him before no one was going to answer but he hadn't listened.

They had heard a commotion early, running feet and people shouting. Brief silence was followed by a terror filled scream combined with a single gun shot. Stillness then returned. The sounds had stopped Foller's ranting and for that Raymond was thankful. His fellow detainee, for lack of a better term, was a hostile bitter man. Perhaps in the past he had been a different man, but from what Raymond had witnessed, there was none of that man left. Oscar's imprisonment of the man was getting serious consideration as something desirable.

Stepping over to the glass, Raymond ran his hand along the fine line that ran from the left center of it the bottom edge. Foller had battered at the glass between them for almost 5 minutes with the stool he had. His side had remained undamaged but a fracture had appeared on Raymond's side. He wondered how much honor he needed to give to this omen beyond what he had immediately granted it. That had been the quelling of his 'therapy' session with Foller.

Foller harbored a lot of ill feelings not only towards Nikita but his ex-wife, too. He wanted to see Nikita again but Raymond did not want that to happen. Not only was he concerned of the effect on Nikita but the actions Foller make take when he saw her. The man placed the entire weight of his misfortunes in life on her shoulders. The burden of blame was not his. He had not been pleased with the rape question and even less with the conversation that had followed.

The comment of maybe making her remember what they were together had both angered and frightened Raymond. The outcome of that he felt assured of would result in Foller's death. Either by Michael's hands or Nikita's own. He could not imagine her letting Foller close enough to be able to attempt much, but the psyche was a curious thing. Fear could paralyze or motivate a person. So which it would do to Nikita?

There was a yell of frustration from next door as Foller slammed the stool against the door. "LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARDS!" As the vibrations echoed away, the lights started their cycle again. But this time there was something different. An audible click and then a whirring came from the door. Raymond looked quickly over to Foller, he had heard it too and was already pulling at the door. He was easily successful. Raymond grabbed the handle on his own door and yanked it open. It was insanity to have Foller running around Section on his own. There was no way of knowing what he was going to do or be faced with, let alone who.

Barely 3 feet down the hall from his cell before he heard his name called, Foller stopped in mid step. Cautiously he turned to see the owner of the voice. The sight surprised him, he was not expecting to see a man as old as the one he saw. The voice had seemed almost ageless in a sense. When the man spoke, he knew it was the one he had been talking to, Raymond. "Taylor, this place is too dangerous to cluelessly run around in. You'll be killed."

Taylor Foller gave a short sardonic laugh. "Do you really think that worries me, Raymond? There was an emphasis on the name that was clear to Raymond's ears. Yes, this was the man who had been picking his brains. Judging him for his past with Nik. But she was his past and his problem, he had made a decision back then. Yes, he regretted the way it had ended but not so much that it had happened. Except the kid, probably hates me for that. Oh well.... Anyway this guy was not the way he had pictured him. He looked like something out of a movie about the Old West.

"I would hope it would cause some hesitation on your part." It was plain to Raymond that Taylor was not going to listen without fighting him every inch of the way. He was going to have to make his argument a strong one to be convincing enough to stay any attempts to flee. If he was going to prevent any confrontations between Taylor and other Section personnel, he would have to.

"Screw you." Taylor turned to finish going through the doorway behind him when he tripped over a body sprawled there. His exclamation of disgust was loud. Raymond was on him as he scrambled to his feet. "Jesus! What do you do just leave 'em lay here?"

Looking at the body on the floor, Raymond shook his head. He crouched down to look to see if he recognized the face. It was difficult to tell, the disfigurement of the wound was extensive. "I can only guess that this is the result of the disturbance we heard earlier. Which means something is wrong aro....." He never finished the sentence. As he started to stand up, Taylor caught him in the head with a discarded high powered semi-automatic. Watching the older man collapse to the floor, a smile spread over his face.

"Yeah there is something wrong. One, you weren't going to let me leave. Two, you felt I made a mistake with Nik. Both real bad ideas." He looked around. There was another door just down the hall. Grabbing Raymond by the shoulders of his shirt, he dragged him over the dead body and towards the door. It was open and he finished pulling the old man in. He closed it but couldn't figured out how to lock it. With a shrug he started slowly up the hall but he was scared. The 'getting killed' had made a difference especially now that he had seen a corpse.

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The noise of the door unlocking bit into the quiet that surrounded Nikita. She brought up her head at it from where it laid in her folded arms. She wait, listening carefully. There were no further sounds. Cautiously she approached the door and pulled on the buckle. It swung towards her with little effort. She leaned warily against the frame and looked into the hallway. It was empty except for a body about 5 feet down the corridor and a shadow slipping around the corner that lead to more van access hatches.

I guess the noise I heard out here earlier was real. Who screamed though? First she checked on the body. There was no way the scream had been his, whoever he was. She couldn't tell, his face looked pretty bad. Well, what she could see of it anyway. Taking a deep breath to help with the pain she knew was coming, she started to get up. Then she saw the Glock laying just under the body. Picking it up with a grimace, she wiped it on the shirt the man wore. "Sorry..." she whispered.

Stealthily she moved to the corner and then around it. Nikita could see the leg of someone go into the last van access hatch. Keeping a watchful eye around her, she came up to the door. There was movement inside. Whoever it was, and she was betting it was one of Jon's brutes, he or she was making noises as if trying to get the door open at the end of the tube. Peeking in, all she could see was the back of a figure and it was male. He was wearing a white t-shirt and blue pants that looked like they belonged to a suit. A high caliber automatic leaned against the wall and it seemed he was playing with the door's release pad.

But Nikita couldn't clearly see his hands and that meant he could be doing anything. Possibly even planting some plastique, she didn't feel it would be beyond Jon to blow the place. Moving just inside the door without a sound. Nikita leveled her sidearm. "Stop with the door and you get to live a little longer." The figure started to turn and reach for the gun when the lights went out again.

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Chapter 12

Darcie waited patiently for Michael's next order. She had the music patched in and set to blow a few eardrums. Already with the operatives they had gathered, 90% of Section was taken back. And Jon never even knew it. He had set up no radio communication with his men. She shook her head as she thought of it again. Talk about idiotic moves. That one had been huge and gave Michael and his team major tactical advantage.

Only thing to do now was get Ops and Command. Then Section was under Michael's control. Right now only he and she had the master codes to run Section. All of the ones that belonged to Operations, Madeline and Birkoff had been deleted. She would give Birkoff access but not the other two. She knew she would not let them back in charge. Whether or not they cared to admit more and more this place was becoming modeled on Michael's way of doing things. Yeah some of the operatives were disturbed by his past and what it might mean to their safety. But it was a far cry from what they had seen out of Madeline and Operations.

His model was in the way people worked for and with each other. A lot of them were good friends. Some so close to each other that they seemed to have like a family set up. But those were the ones that connected with Michael a lot. It was as if he was training them to be that way. And they were loyal as all get out to him and regardless of things that had happened before Darcie had gotten there, to Nikita too. They all shared to a certain point and that made them stick together.

When she had first opened her eyes here a year ago and saw Madeline for the first time, there had been such a coldness. The hatred for everything here and everyone in it. Then getting stuck with Elena, the one who's fault it was she was here anyway, 'to get acclimated to Section culture'. What a joke. Teamwork keeps you alive. You work for your fellow operative and the operative works for you. The first year had been hell, Darcie neither saw nor felt any 'team-work'. It was more of every man for himself.

Rule after rule after rule sometimes literally pounded into you until it was ingrained. Until it was part of your skin. It wouldn't have been so bad if Elena just hadn't been there. Pushed me till I exploded and then got in trouble. Dysant had tried to be cool about it as long as she could. The unending hours in the white room with nothing but your own thoughts was worse than being stuck in the corner like a kid. That had made up her mind to hate everybody here until she somehow got out.

Then she had met Nikita and saw that somehow the tall imposing blonde completely understood her. Instead of wanting to be anger all the time and keeping people at a distance, she wanted to belong and have a friend. Even Ronnie, and she had loved her more than her own mother, had a line she wasn't allowed to cross. There were parts of herself no one got to. Nikita had stepped over of those and Darcie had let her. Michael came next, he was like an extension of Nikita. They got mad at each other, they fought, they made up. They were real. They cared about each other and everybody else in some way, too.

Not the bosses though. She had grown to like Michael not only because of Nikita really. But because of how he did things the right way. He didn't screw around. Not them, they weren't like Michael. She didn't trust either of them like she did him and there was no way she liked them as much. They were dangerous to everyone, whether they liked you or not.

Michael wasn't that way unless it was necessary. And whether he thought he did or not, it was easy for her to see that it bothered him to do that. Watching Nikita react to him allowed her to learn the subtle gestures. Like the way he would say something or a quick glance. The past three hours though he hadn't hidden much. He was upset and worried, kinda angry too. However there was no sympathy inside for that guy Jon. Hopefully he would just be put out.... Darcie cringed at that thought. It had been wrong just like what she had done earlier.

"Seal doors in Van Access. Power off all lifts." There he was. Good something to do...no more chewing on things. His orders meant he was just about ready to hit Jon in Ops. She looked at the little map that showed where everyone was. It was blank now. Michael had made her wipe it so Jon couldn't use it if he realized what was going on and made Birky access it. But it had put them at disadvantage, she hadn't confirmed a couple of locations before she did it. Michael had told her to find a way to reverse it. So far she had not gotten anywhere with it. Something else that she didn't know how to do.

One of them unconfirmed was Nikita. That meant no one knew where she was. Darcie was still kicking herself for that screw up. She had been nervous and wanted to do everything he asked as soon as he asked it. She knew time was against them. Plus every time she stopped doing something for just an instant, like just a minute ago, the gunshot echoed in her head. Payment was already being demanded on it. It had put Nikita in even greater danger. Hopefully, she was out of that holding cell and headed upstairs, acting on instinct. After all wasn't that what she always said to do? Follow them and they kept you alive.

Instincts, yeah they kept you alive but damned you too if you weren't careful. Darcie closed her eyes for a moment. She was tired and alone, that meant fear could easily come in. Never waste a life and she had done just that. Not only the guy in the hall but probably Nikita's too. She popped off her boxes and walked in a circle a couple of times. All she could do was think of Ronnie and Nikita. That sense of belonging that had come with being picked felt like it was slipping away. What would they think of her now? Think about something else stupid or you're gonna freak and get them all killed. That will be a million times worse than just that one guy.

But Nikita was a lot like Ronnie had been. They shared a lot of the same feelings and views on things. That was one of the reasons why Darcie liked and trusted Nikita so much. Another was how willing to be honest she had been after they started to get to know each other. Ronnie had always hidden things, never giving her the full story. Nikita felt that happened entirely too much in Section and refused to be that way with Darcie. She had learned a lot about her as they worked together. That was except the full story about that guy Taylor. Nikita had been really tightlipped about answering that question.

That was ok, hadn't she done the same on a couple of things? Darcie had figured out most of it on her own anyway. A lot wasn't said but she got the gist of it from those unspoken words. The guy was worse than scum for what he had done. Walking out on Nikita when she had been still pregnant. And to think he hadn't ever tried to make it up to Nikita or their little girl. No apology whatsoever, never even an attempt to find out about his own child. Just letting it go as if it didn't matter made him even worse in her eyes.

On the other hand, it made Michael even better. He did things the right way as usual. Wanting to be like a father to Katie, plus be the same for Reese. Who their real fathers were didn't matter to him. That took a special kind of guy. And he loved Nikita. You could see it when he looked at her. Especially when he thought no one was watching him. Nikita was lucky to have him. Taking a deep breath, she sat back down.

Van Access came up as secured. Michael wanted them all sealed and lifts closed down so that way if any of Jon's crew got loose, there would be no way out. She looked at the timer in the upper right of the screen, 2 minutes before she started the next sequence. Michael wanted a strobe light effect. It wasn't going to be exact but she was going to get as close to it as she could. He had wanted outside communications too. But it had been beyond her ability to get at. She had gotten this far on sheer luck and piecing together things she had seen and heard. He hadn't gotten upset but he was disappointed. Most of all though he wanted Jon as confused and distracted as possible.

The timer disappeared and a grim smile spread across Darcie's face. She linked into the monitor system to check out Ops. "Disco fever," she said as the lights went through their gyrations. Michael planned on Jon's concentration on the action in Ops so he could get everyone positioned around it. Before Jon knew what was going on, every guard he had there would be a Section operative instead of one of his men. He'd go easy then, there wouldn't be a choice. After all, he didn't have a single person left anywhere else but right in Ops.

So far they felt that they had everyone who wasn't Section and unfortunately had cancelled each one on the spot. Not the way she had wanted to see it but what could she do? Her views were polar opposite for the life she had to deal with from now on. Sensors were going off on her screen again. This time it was suppose to a swept area. But now Van Access was showing two people in one of the tubes and one in a room.

"Simon?"

"Yeah? Things OK?" He still sounded like he had marbles in his mouth, but she could hear the unanswered question too. Christine would have a fit when she saw his face. It was a mess, just like her own. Simon had announced them twins with a smile. He was trying to shake off his own nerves with some good natured ribbing, anything to relieve the tension. She could tell by the way he had asked about Christine that he was worried. Her answer hadn't helped. He was angered over what was going on and she saw it get worse when Michael put him in charge of running the sweep through Section. He wanted to go to Ops but understood the need to be elsewhere.

"No change." He grunted at that. " Everything else is on schedule. But we got two in Van Access, last tube. One in C3. Can you check it out?"

"Uh-huh. Make sure Michael knows. I'll let you know what I find. If anything goes down, I get the news immediately! Got it?" Darcie sighed, feeling not only like a phone operator but suddenly caught in the middle of something. The same struggle that had been between Michael and Doyle had spread to include Simon. She looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath. And all of it was because of women. With a shake of her head, she reaffirmed her decision that getting involved with a guy, like love and sex, was nothing but a major set of problems. Best to just stay out of it.

To make things even more fun, they had found only two com sets in the weapons stash in the morgue. Leading Michael and Simon there had gotten her some ribbing from Simon after Michael explained things to him. He had thought it funny that she was spending her free time crawling around in the bowels of Section One. Seeing her turn red at his unexpected teasing, Michael had come to her rescue. Telling them that at least part of the set they had been through to get to the morgue he had used when George had tried this same thing. Simon had given him that same look when he told him about the sweep.

"Michael?"

"Yes."

"Got Simon checking out 3 spotted in Van Access."

"Let me know when he reports back. Any luck on reversing that wipe from earlier?"

"No. Have you seen her?"

"No." For a moment he was silent. Darcie knew he was pushing away the same thought she was. "Got your music ready?"

"Yeah."

"When I say, as loud as you can get it."

"I know." Darcie pulled up the feed on Ops. Concern flooded across her face. The audio was poor but the video wasn't. Jon was going at Birky for something when Christine stepped between them. Now on the receiving end of Jon's tirade, she was drawing him out into the circle of Ops.

"Can you see what's going on in there?"

"Yes, it will help." There was a dead tone in his voice. Then the static and sounds of him moving stopped. Obviously he had either silenced the piece or hit one of those spots she kept finding on the circle around Ops. Nothing read there. She had to remember to tell somebody about those. They were a security risk.

Michael silently watched from his vantage point at one of the doorways in the briefing room. Doyle had already cleared the room, surprisingly taking personal responsibility for CC. Walter had gone with them. Operations had stayed behind for less than a minute it seemed before he barreled out of the room. Where he was off to was only a guess. Madeline had stayed and he felt her eyes. He had decided earlier the best way to deal with her was respond when she inquired and keep quiet the rest of the time. But he was going to keep his eye on her. He no longer had any trust for the woman.

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Nikita cursed the lights again. This in and out thing had to stop, all it was doing was making her head feel worse. It was hard to keep her focus on what she needed to do when her skull felt like it was going to split in two and roll off her shoulders. Light blazed bright again and then everything stopped for her but the pain. There was no way she was seeing who was in front of her. Denial was the only way she could keep herself from falling to the floor.

Taylor had turned at the voice as the darkness hit again. He had recognized it right away. He couldn't forget it, but it now sounded stronger and more confident. He knew when he could see again, she would be standing right in front of him. Would she be glad to see him or be the way that guy Raymond had described her? Full of hate to the point of wanting to kill him? Not his Nik, that wasn't her. Even after all the time that had passed, he knew her best.

She tried to breathe but it hurt. Was it because of her ribs or her heart that was set to jump out of her throat? This isn't REAL! My imagination is working overtime just like before! I'm still on the floor in the holding cell. I didn't get out. Nikita turned to leave. You can change a nightmare if you want to, you just take control! The access door slammed in her face and she heard it seal shut. NO!!!! her head screamed. She was trapped in a confined space with him. Spinning around again, she held the gun back out. He would hurt more than he ever had in his life if he tried anything.

"Nik? I can't believe it!" He was disturbed by the way she looked. Obviously she had been in a fight and looked like she had lost. She was as stiff as a statue, gun pointed unwaveringly at his heart. Her eyes were fixed on him too. Wide but the feeling he saw in them was nothing he had ever seen in them before. But that was the problem. There was nothing in them. He had never experienced seeing such coldness in her.

"Brennan?" Her words were barely above a whisper and they were so menacing that he flinched. Nikita strained to keep from shaking. Was Madeline ever going to stop? Did it take killing the woman to end this torment she had cooked up?

"Brennan? Come on, look at me hon! Who the hell am I? And what are you planning to do with the piece, golden girl? Shoot me?"

The silence in the tube engulfed everything. There was no way this could be Brennan. Taylor had only used that name when.... Nikita pulled away from that thought. Michael was the only one who had heard it. Unless they had set up surveillance on the apartment again. The idea was quickly dismissed. She had swept it the morning before Michael and she had dinner. She hadn't left the apartment either. No, it was not Brennan, was it? She couldn't be sure. So many tricks had been played and so many lies told. She had to know. Feeling like a robot she stepped towards him.

Taylor's eyes got wider as she got closer. Under the slightly bruised chin and throat, the black eye and pained but weary set to her face, he could see that the very pretty teenager had become a beautiful woman. A strong one too that the tank top and jeans she wore did little to hide. There was something about the way she moved, something dangerous. Like she was on her guard and ready to attack if threatened. It was slightly exciting, well as exciting as it could get with a gun pointed at him. For a moment he wondered what he had given up and then the anger started to trickle back in. She was why he was here in the first place. She and Litta were why he had been stuck in that god forsaken job and life of his all these years....

She touched the gun to his chin and pushed it upwards. He lifted his head slightly, never taking his eyes off of hers. He had some slight trepidation about what she would do. If she pulled the trigger, he wouldn't really know it. If she was going to hit him, he knew it was going to hurt. What she did next hurt but felt just like it used to, he couldn't help closing his eyes. He told Raymond she hadn't changed. She was still his girl.

Reaching out, she roughly raked her nails down his skin of his cheek, nothing peeled or cracked like a mask would have. With a slight hiss of air from between her teeth, Nikita backed up. This person was real not Brennan. Now she needed the answer of whether or not this was real. "Why are you here?" Her whisper was hoarse, as if she was having trouble speaking.

"Two guys grabbed me at work and brought me here. I was talking to some guy that looked like he stepped out of a Western. Said his name was Raymond. He told me what you've been doing with yourself. You look good. That felt good, too." There was no response from Nikita, just those eyes of hers. Just as blue as they had always been, but there was a heavy black shadow there. "Where did you go that night?"

"Away." Her voice was still the hoarse whisper. Even with what he said, this could still be an illusion. Something made up by her head like the last time.

"Pretty far by the looks of it. I didn't mean for us to end the way we did. I came for you that night. I was going to take you away but you had disappeared."

"Obviously not well enough."

"You know it's all your own fault." He saw a flicker of something across her face but couldn't name it. "You started it. You made it all happen. I was ready to give it all up for you, Nik. Why did you have to leave? Why did you have to hand me this life? Was it because of that guy Raymond told me about."

Nikita felt like her head was spinning. The headache had only gotten worse. He was saying all of the old lines again. All of the old lies and tricks were now in the present instead of just in her head as a reminder of the past. Her back hit the access hatch. Reaching behind herself, she pulled on the release. It was still stuck fast. Suddenly the lights went haywire. It was almost like strobes. The night in the club when she had seen 'him' flashed through her head and the song that was playing whipped through with it.

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

"Why?" Nikita had to ask what had pushed him to be the way he was with her. What kind of things were going on in his head to make him do what he did?

"Yeah, were you doing that guy on the side too? Or maybe he was later and there was somebody in between. Damn it, why did you screw me the way you did?!" That hadn't been what she wanted to hear. Not those words, not that anger. Nikita tightened her fingers on the gun. He was the one who had been wrong and he was trying to lay the blame on her. All the pain, hate and despair he had caused. All the time she had been separated from Katie and all they still had to face. He was keeping her from Reese and Michael, too. It wasn't fair. She had done nothing wrong to get this kind of punishment.

"How could you do that to me?"

"What? Sleep with you? I was in love with you."

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Christine slowly got up from where Jon had pushed her to the floor. She knew the next blow was going to be leveled at Birkoff who was already out of his chair. Hurling herself across the space between them, she crashed full force into his back. This time it was Jon who fell to the floor awkwardly. With a scream of fury, he was on his feet already to kick her. The lights and everything else going wrong had demolished the last bit of self control he had. These people were not suppose to be this stubborn. They should have collapsed into pieces but they were still fighting. Especially the women, what drove them?

His kick stopped a scant distance from Christine's face. The throb that went through the air made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. At first it was noise, a very loud noise. Then it became noticeable as music and the lyrics to match it.

With Jon's attention diverted, Christine dug at her pant cuff. She scowled as she did, it was wet and sticky. The scalpel must have ripped through the material and sliced her ankle. It hadn't hurt, that was what the instrument was made for, to be quick and easy to cut with. It wasn't going to matter anyway. Because if she got to him, they would both be dead.

Jon grabbed the task chair between him and Birkoff. It flew through the air and landed on a monitor. The console sparked as the tube on the monitor shattered. He screamed at Birkoff, "Who is doing this?"

Has he lost his mind?
Can he see or is he blind?

Can he walk at all,
Or if he moves will he fall?

Is he alive or dead?
Has he thoughts within his head?

We'll just pass him there
why should we even care?

Birkoff listen to the music for a moment. He had to keep himself from bursting into laughter. Not only at Jon's reaction but what he was going to do next. I'm out of my mind to answer him this way but he deserves it! Only one person is Section listened to music this loud and hard, Darcie. "I think this is Black Sabbath. If you're still curious, I believe 'Iron Man' is the name of the song."

Jon looked incredulously at the young man. Did he realize how close he was to dying? No, he didn't; so the look of disbelief would be better to witness. He pulled his gun and placed it on Birkoff's cheek. The music still throbbed around him but the vibes in the room had changed. It was the only way he could describe it. Everything suddenly felt different. Puzzled he looked over his shoulder and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun to Michael's eyes.

Jon swept his gaze around the room. A ring of Section operatives stood around the perimeter of the area. He faintly heard Michael's voice, something about 'turning it off' and the noise ended. He looked to Christine who was just behind Michael as she moved more to the side. What was she planning to do, watch Michael shoot him? Jon saw the expectation on her face. She was looking forward to just that.

Christine watched the two men with rapt attention. This was finally going to be over. Now the past could be put to rest. Maybe all the ghosts would go away now. Maybe she could find a way not to be in fear of the dark anymore. She fingered the scalpel's handle that she had secreted in her hand. The urge to use it was strong but Michael had the gun on him. It was an effort to suppress her smile. Shoot him Michael. Get him out of our lives.

"This is over." Michael's voice was low but neutral. Jon knew as he looked it his eyes that this time it certainly, absolutely was over. For both of them...

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Nikita's sudden wild sounding laugh filled the tube. For a moment it had filled her eyes and face and then just as quickly she was silent. Her face had gone blank too. "Liar!" she hissed at him.

"I did. Maybe I still do. Hard to do that though when I'm PISSED AT YOU BECAUSE OF THE WAY MY LIFE HAS SUCKED FOR THE PAST 10 YEARS!" He screamed the words at her and brought up the gun. One shot at the fingers on his left hand made he drop it to the floor. The bullet had only grazed his knuckles and then lodged in the wall behind him. Though the way he reacted to it, anyone would have thought she had blown off his hand. "YOU BITCH!"

"Like you even know how to use that thing... a scrape... you've done far worse to me many times." Her words were measured. He looked up at her. She still held the gun on him, though now it was aimed at his head.

"Get off it! Don't you ever stop your belly aching? God... you're worse than a little kid." There was a lot of distaste in his voice. For once, Nikita had something in common with him. Though actually it was more than distaste, it was hate that she had for him. There was a noise and throb from the corridor outside. It must have been the music that started coming from the speaker in the ceiling. But in here, it was muffled and scratchy sounding, the music in the hallway had to be deafening.

"Why?" She asked him again. He looked to the ceiling, rolling his eyes.

"Fine!" he snapped at her. "You want the truth? Here it is! I thought it would be fun! I thought I'd enjoy myself for once! And you know what? I did every time, especially when you fought back! That was when it was the best. Always was until you let yourself get pregnant!" He spat the words at her. Each one felt like a fist to Nikita. But they were what she had wanted to hear.

She held back the tears. Finally the truth, but God it hurts so much... " Don't you want to even know what happened to Katie, our little girl?"

Taylor couldn't believe her. Hadn't he made it clear to her 10 years ago. He didn't want a child, not even if it was Nikita's too. "I DON'T CARE! NOT A GOD DA..." His words cut her worse than a knife could have. Hot rage raced through her, blinding her to anything but shutting him up and making sure he never laid eyes on Katie. He didn't deserve it and Katie didn't need this kind of hurt...

Taylor's hands flew to his chest as the first shot rammed him backwards into the wall. He looked down and then up at her with wide eyes. "Nik..." he whispered as he slide down the wall with the second. The third crumbled him to his knees and then to his side on the floor.

Quivering like she had caught a chill, Nikita's gun plummeted to the floor. "I do," she whispered. Then she screamed, letting it all out.

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Simon's head snapped up at the scream. "Raymond?" The answer he got was a groan. "Man, you've got to stay here. I don't like the way that scream sounded." Fingers dug into the skin of his forearm as he tried to stand. Raymond looked at him with still glazed eyes.

"Foller....here." He was breathing heavily and Simon knew he was hurting but the name didn't mean anything to him. He gave the injured man a quizzical look. Trying to think through the fog in his head, Raymond found it hard to come up with something to make Simon know who Foller was. "Katie's fath....er. Not... a trick....now."

"What? Oh damn!" Simon dashed out the door, headed to the tube Darcie had mentioned before. "DARCIE!!!" He screamed into the com unit as the music abruptly stopped. Chrissy had told him some things, swearing him to secrecy. The name had clicked in his head as soon as Raymond said Katie.

"That was MY EAR!!!" Her own yelled words hit his ear. "WHAT?"

"Unlock the tube doors in Van Access now!! No argument!!! Just do it!!!" There was silence on the other end. But he could hear the seals releasing from the doors. Out of one stumbled Nikita. He caught her arms in a tight grip. She was shaking madly but her face was uncharacteristically dead looking. "Princess, tell me what 's wrong!"

Nikita grabbed the material of the front of his shirt, twisting it around her fingers. "Tell me that wasn't real. Tell me I am out of my mind. Tell me I'm still laying on the floor of the holding cell and this is ALL A BAD, BAD DREAM!!!!"

He gripped her hand with his free one. "You've got to tell me what you're talking about. Was that you who screamed? Why did you scream?"

She let go of him, starting to turn back to the door but thought better of it. "Do you know what I just did to her? So much that she wanted to know. So many things she needs answers to. Things she has every right to know and I JUST TOOK IT AWAY FROM HER. I'VE CHEATED MY LITTLE GIRL AGAIN! WHAT KIND OF MOTHER... WHAT DID I JUST DO?

As Nikita tried to pull away from him to run down the hall, Simon held onto her tight. Damn it Michael! You should be taking care of this. I don't know enough to help her. She needs you not me! "Princess please.....wait let me look. OK?"

Nikita still yanked herself away but only to roll along the wall to face it. She wrapped her arms over her head as if trying to keep the world out. Simon ducked into the tube. A guy laid on the floor. He checked for a pulse but there wasn't one. He stood and went back to Nikita. She turned to stare at him with a shocked look. The question she wanted to ask him was already on his face.

"Oh God, I killed him!" She wrapped her arms around herself and crouched to the floor. "Oh God....." Oh Katie....I'm sorry... Oh... God there was no reason...

"Simon!" Operations appeared in the hallway, helping to support Raymond.. He didn't see Nikita right away because she was blocked from blocked his line of sight. Simon moved slightly and now he could see Nikita almost bent over, back to the wall. After a few seconds, she slowly rose to a standing position and walked up to him. The hate in her eyes was unlike anything he had seen in them before.

"You keep her away from me. You keep her away from Michael. If you don't, you're looking for a new partner. I'll kill her and that is not a threat. It is a statement of fact. She is quite fortunate she is not with you."

Raymond start t speak, "Revenge doesn't solve....."

Nikita cut him off, "No, she wants to play like this... then she has to pay, one way or another. She stays away and cuts the crap, fine. She comes near me and believe me, I'll hurt her just as bad as she's hurt us." She started to brush by Operations but stopped and grabbed his shoulder, turning him so she could see his eyes. "And if I find out you had anything to do with this, I'll do the same to you."

Operations met Simon's eyes. "This stays here. No one else is to know about this. Not even Michael! This is hers, all hers." Simon came closer and looked from Raymond to Operations. His expression was full of loathing.

"This wasn't Madeline. It smells like one of your stunts." Operations narrowed his eyes as he listened to Simon. This was the first time he ever felt Simon's aggression focused on him. "Just keep in mind I know." He shouldered past Operations and broke into a run to catch up with Nikita.

Carefully Operations moved forward with Raymond to the tube door and leaned him against the wall. He looked in and then put his head against the door frame. Softly Raymond spoke, "If he says anything, you'll lose everything."

Operations muttered thickly, "I know....."

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Enjoy level 8. The twins are waiting for you." Jon growled in rage and fired his pistol at Michael's feet, barely missing his foot. It only made Michael raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to impress me or someone else with your marksmanship?"

"The mouth... always the mouth. I never missed that, not for one minute. This isn't how it's going to end Michael. One or both us have to be dead for it to end. Jon Jae Min or Michel Samuelle, take your pick!" He saw out of the corner of his eye a Section operative move closer. He had a relaxed grip on his weapon but Jon knew better than to think it would take more than an instant for the man to take a deadly shot at him.

"Michel Samuelle, along with his sister Paige, died the day Philippe L' Araigne visited his parents. There was an explosion of some sort at the home. They never found the cause. Not long after that the parents moved and were soon divorced. They both were died in separate incidents before their 50th birthdays. Re..."

"What was it you said in that room? Come one, Paige! You were there! What did he said about lies? I think it was 'haven't our lives been based on lies?' YOU'RE THE LIE! A nothing trying to be something. A shadow trying to be real! Like Pinocchio. Are you trying to be a real boy Michael? You're too much of a coward to live! Too afraid to fight for what you really want! Rather have someone else do that for you, right?

"...ese Linsdon died with his father Greg when their home was attacked by a group with whom the father was having a dispute. Check the papers, they had all of it in black and white. Everything spelled out as it happened. All in a straight column with neat even margins. Completed and sent to the printing presses."

"You were never meant to live!" There was a shrillness starting in his voice. Jon couldn't stop it from coming out. He had lost to Michael, just like Philippe did. The promises he had made to Philippe's memory were not going to be kept.

"Who says I ever did?" Michael said neutrally. He ignored the black pit that he tittered on. Jon knew all the things to say. All the things Philippe would hit him with along with the physical blows.

"What gives you the right to take everything important from my life?" Jon growled in fury.

"Because you did it to me. As I said before. It's done. I'm have no more of you and your past. " Michael turned on his heel, an almost imperceptive nod to Erik, who Jon had seen move just to the side, adjusted his hands on his gun. Michael had told him to let Jon make a move and then take him out. But only if the shot was clean. He didn't want anyone from Section hit. It felt like being on SWAT detail for a hostage situation. Jon flicked his eyes at Erik with a sneer. Obviously he was not worried about what was going to happen.

Christine couldn't believe it! Michael was going to walk away from this?! Let it undone and let Section finish it. They had been the ones to cause this. They had made this hell and destroyed their lives. Mama and Papa were dead because of them. It was because of Section none of them had lives. Nikita and he were being kept away from the kids because of the threat of Section and Jon.

Jon's voice broke into her racing mind. "You son of a bitch! Don't walk away from this. You can't!.... Remember that afternoon Michael. Remember Simone screaming at you from the corner of the room. You just stood there like a statue. He had you so drugged up, you didn't even know your own name. Do you have any idea how easy it was to lift your arm and squeeze that trigger for you? One, two, bang, bang and no more mommy and daddy. God damn it felt good to pull that off on you!"

Simon caught Nikita as she hit the platform. She was still shaking like crazy and almost fell on the floor at Jon's words. Just like Philippe had tried! Jon was definitely a product of Philippe. But could this be the truth. The last two people alive who saw it were here. She had doubted it since he had told about that session with Madeline. About what had happened during it, what he had experienced that day.

Michael couldn't have done what his memories said. Not the real man she was pulling the dirt from, not the man who had rocked Reese and himself to sleep just other day at Cala. Not the man who could sit for hours and create such beautiful things. Then the image of herself shooting Taylor flashed in front of her eyes. She shoved it aside, that was over, she'd finished it. But if I could do it..... His body was tensed and she could tell he was going to do something. She started forward, Michael was going to need help....

Rage threatened to choke Michael. Jon dared to think he was going to take that away. He couldn't succeed in anything else so he was going to do this? Take his memories? As horrific as they were?

Christine was stunned beyond feeling for seconds. This bastard had been the one. He had fired the gun using Michael to hold it? Then she shattered, no more letting this go answered. She charged Jon, scalpel no longer secreted but poised like a knife. A knife in the hands of a person skilled with it for both good and bad. This was going to end with some one from the Samuelle family taking back whatever they could. If he couldn't bring himself to do it, she could. The monsters had to go!

BASTARD! Michael spun, arm and weapon extended, firing. The sight of Christine arching her back as the bullet hit made everything else around him disappear. She crashed to the floor with a cry of pain. Jon fell too. Erik's shot matching the timing of Michael's.

Simon hurled himself off the platform at the same time as Erik and Michael fired. His yell of warning too late. He was on the floor beside her before Michael still fully comprehend what had happened. Now Simon didn't care who find out about them, he was going to stay right with her. She gave him a small smile. "This hurts a little," she whispered. "Now I ...know why you guys...are so cranky."

"Shh...quiet for now." He looked around. "GET MED UP HERE NOW!!!" Michael dropped to his knees by them. He reached out for her hand.

"Bambin, I...." Simon slapped it away. Their eyes met. Nikita's hand gripped Michael's shoulder. She could see Simon's face, he wanted Michael no where near Chris. And he would make it physical if he had to.

"Don't! Don't...you ...ever!" The words burst out of Simon with such violence that Michael looked at him with shock.. He opened his mouth to plead when Nikita's fingers gripped his shoulder. He felt her touch but it wasn't making any of this better. His head kept screaming 'no'. This was not happening. Not now ....not this.

Christine reached a hand up to Simon's cheek as he looked down at her. "Stitches... cold com... cloth.. compresses." It was getting hard to think, she knew she was going into shock. And it was getting cold, at least Simon was here though. He was always warm to sleep against. She knew she was close to passing out. There was a loud commotion coming towards them. Rin is here... sew me up partner... and get me... something clean... these clothes are ruined.

Michael reached out again and managed to snag her fingers as she lifted her hand to Simon again. With a small whimper she shook it off. "No... Si.." Her eyes closed and Simon felt her relax. He caught her hand as it started to drop to the floor. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, feeling for her pulse, making sure it was still there. It was but weak.

Simon kissed the knuckles of the hand he held. "Zezuur... I'll be right here We've got time, lots of it.." He reluctantly let go of her as Rin and the others she brought with her swarmed over Christine. They moved so fast and both men were so intent on what was going on inside that there was no reaction as they wheeled her away.

Nikita crouched down, her body protesting the movement. She had to get him to his feet. This didn't look good. His body was like a rock. She touched his cheek, "Michael, get up." There was no reaction to her words. His eyes were so dull and never had she seen him so white.

Simon stood and looked down at Michael who stared at the spot on the floor where she had been. I told you to stay out of it! Why her? "How could you lose it like that? How could you let him get to you like that?"

His thoughts were jumbled in his head. What have I done? All of them by my hand... Michael lifted his hand to look at it. Simon watched at Nikita slipped her arms around him, trying to pull the appalled figure to his feet. She got him half way up before he looked up at Simon.

"Sim..."

"What the hell were you thinking?" He bellowed at Michael. "Erik had the shot!" He started to make a fist and bring it up when Nikita stepped between them. She shook her head, eyes pleading.

"No more, please," she said softly. Reaching out she slipped her hand over Simon's fist and started to push it down. He pulled it away as he gave her a bitter look.

"That's right, Michael. Did you hear her? There's no more!" He turned and brushed brusquely past Madeline who had moved up to them. She looked from Michael who glanced briefly at her before pulling from Nikita and following Simon, to Nikita. Briefly she inclined her head at Nikita, that old smile on her face. With a withering glance, Nikita limped towards the doorway Michael had gone through. Madeline was something to deal with tomorrow.....

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Operations and Madeline walked along the silent corridor. "You look rested, " he said casually.

"Thank you. You do too. Have you seen Christine?"

He nodded. "She looks well. Have you spoken to Michael yet?"

Madeline stopped and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "It was a one sided conversation. I did all the talking. I don't think he did any listening. Certainly none of the talking. I think I am not the best person to deal with him any longer." Operations frowned darkly. That was not good. But she was right, he had wanted to see how Michael would deal with her. He was not surprised at the outcome.

"And Nikita? What has Raymond told you?"

"He had much the same luck with her. In fact he was very..." She paused considering the word to use. ".... vague with me. What is he hiding for you?"

"Hiding?" The shake of his head said he didn't have a hint. Madeline smiled thinly.

"No matter, right? However the relationship between Christine and Simon is something to be dealt with." Operations looked down the hallway and then back at Madeline.

"Not now." and then he walked away from her. Madeline watched him as he went around the corner. Slowly she crossed her arms, jaw tightening.

"We will see. About a lot of things. All secrets come with a price on them, Oscar. Some can be very expensive." There was no mistaking the threat in her voice.

The End

(January 1999)

written by Tammy

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people have read this fic since February 15th, 1999