The Policy of Truth

written by Tammy

{This story in part was a result of the song 'The Policy of Truth' by Depeche Mode from the album, 'Violator'. The words appear at the start of chapters 1,5,7 and 9.Other song snippets belong to: In Chapter 4; 'I Feel You by Depeche Mode from the album 'Songs of Faith and Devotion'. In Chapters 6 and 8; 'Hit Me' by Sister Soleil from the album 'Solarium'. The Maori word in Chapter 6 should be spelled "rongomau" and it means peace in an emotional sense. }

"You had something to hide...Should have hidden it, shouldn't you...
Now you're not satisfied.....With what you're being put through..."- D.M.

Chapter 1

Right now was not the best time or place to be dealing with this. Nor did Michael feel he was the proper person to be discussing this with Runkle, at least now yet. Simon was his team leader, he should have been standing where Michael was and listening. However, Runkle did have the trait of being sensitive, sometimes annoyingly oversensitive, similar to the way he was being now. He could be highly impatient as well. Both traits led to the tendency to deal with someone other than who was irritating him.

But Michael listened patiently. Simon was a taskmaster and had a tendency to push hard, not unlike himself at times. He could also not be the most diplomatic person either but that was just one the many things Michael liked about Simon. His loyalty and professionalism had helped Michael save the team's skin many times. Simon would tell an operative to their face what the problem was that he had with them and how to fix it.

There was also little in the world that Simon feared. He was tenacious and never gave up or in. That was something that worried Michael, especially in view of what he knew was going on between Christine and Simon. At least he thought he knew, they were being extremely careful about it. There were no looks or anything inside Section that he had seen or heard whispered about.

Just the time in the exercise room and that he had only witnessed by chance. Outside of himself, Nikita and Doyle, he doubted anyone else even had a hint about it. Fortunately Doyle had kept quiet about what he had seen. Michael was well aware that Simon might have threatened the troublemaker, it certainly was not beyond him. He was also keenly aware that Simon would not end it even if he was ordered to, even if it killed him. There was a seriousness to Simon about the relationship. But there was something in it that bothered Michael. Something he couldn't put his finger on...

With a mental shake of his head, Michael refocused his thoughts on the present situation. Runkle had not been performing up to the potential he had shown before. That was one reason Michael had moved him to Simon's team. In tense situations, Runkle got indecisive, almost to the point of timidity. While his own team was the finesse and brains, Simon's was the brawn and firepower.

He hadn't tried to arrange them that way, it was just the way Operations had set up. But it seemed to let the members from the other teams blend in and out as they needed to much easier. Like the semi 'team' Nikita was with, they were skilled at all things but especially cold op character adoption. Michael liked the way her group was shaping up. The addition of the new operative, Erik, was working out nicely. Nikita and he seemed to have a good affinity for each other. And Michael had to admit for a former police officer, the guy was a good operative. He did things the Section way, not the cop way.

Runkle bought him back up out of his thoughts. "But I rather think he dislikes me, Michael."

"You need to give it some time yet. I do not think Simon dislikes anyone...."

Runkle clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Oh he just loves Doyle to pieces now, doesn't he?"

Michael held back not only the smirk but the comment that was on the tip of his tongue. Simon just didn't dislike Doyle. He want to hang the man from his thumbs over a vat of boiling oil or something to that effect. It was hard to remember Simon's exact way of phrasing it the other day because he had been so furious. He had actually slipped into Arabic, something Michael hadn't heard him do in a very long time. And he had expected answers as if Michael fully understood what he was saying. Only laughing at him, which Michael hardly ever did, had stopped him in mid sentence. Simon was determined to curb Doyle's attitude.

"That is between Simon and Doyle. Give Simon a chance and see how he is pushing you. I think he sees more in you than you are willing to see in yourself. And in his own way is trying to get you to understand that. He does things differently sometimes but not without a valid reason."

Operations watched Michael and Runkle silently from the catwalk above them. He felt a strong dose of pride as he listened to Michael deal with the operative. Sensitive to the problem and not above coaching the person to the right view, but also determined that the person be the one to make the choice and the decision about the outcome. He was a good leader. Now if he could just the past and its bitter associations aside.

Raymond's words still hung in his ears. Did he really create the hate in Michael? Or had he just added greatly to a hatred that had already been festering? Did Michael truly see him as another L' Araigne? Operations despised those thoughts. He wanted the closeness he and Madeline had at one time with Michael back. It had died along with Merle. He had back away from them so far. Any hopes of resurrecting it crushed between the 'cancellation' of Nikita and the revelation of L' Araigne. Not to mention the ill feelings he knew Michael now harbored towards Madeline because of Reese and Katie.

The situation with the two children had been unavoidable. It had been done in the best interests of everyone, even theirs. They were a liability to each other. The safest thing for all concerned was to keep them apart. Michael had done the right thing by blotting out records of Katie. There was very little left to tie her to Nikita. And Oscar knew of the trail that marked little Reese's life, he was slowly working on obliterating as much of that as possible. Martina would not be happy with the situation. Operations was sure she would be furious, telling him exactly what she felt about it and how to fix it.

He had hoped to assuage the mistakes he had made along the way with the allowance of the relationship with Nikita. They were good together even though it still irked him to say that. But he agreed with what Martina had said the last time he actually saw her. She had insisted the two of them were owed something. Section had ruined their pasts and present. It shouldn't be granted the future too. He took a deep breath. Admit it Oscar...you want to give him back some of what he lost in the past, too. He's accepted the gift but not the sentiment behind it. If the past two weeks were any indication, though, they were at odds with each other again. Hopefully they would work it out, too much was riding on this. Too much had gone into this....

"Michael." He spoke in a normal tone but the cavernous tunnel made it carry and seem louder than it really was. Runkle looked up and around. Michael zeroed in on him instantly. "I need to speak with you."

Nodding to Runkle in dismissal, he said. "Of course" while turning to face Operations' approach. Michael stood stiffly in his place as Operations came up to him. That same stiffness that Michael always possessed now in his presence. Is he suppressing his desire to run from me or to lash out at me in anger?

"Headed to ops?"

"Yes, I need to check on a few things." He wanted to make sure things were calm so there was nothing to disturb him from his plans. But Michael couldn't help the suspicious feeling or the tension that gripped his shoulders. Operations was always up to something. It was as if he played a perpetual game of chess, even when he slept.

"Then we can walk up together. How is everything? How is Nikita?" Perhaps just general conversation would help smooth some of the way.

"Fine." Michael wasn't pleased with the questions, especially the one about Nikita. He had only seen her in glimpses the past two weeks. She had been to the cabin only once and it had not be when he was there. The only way he had known she had been there was because her CDs were gone. He had immediately checked the linen closet. The few clothes she had on the shelf in there had been removed too. That had hurt and it still did. He had not been able to summon the courage or find the opportunity to get her alone and discuss it. Darcie had not known of anything and Christine refused to talk to him at all.

A search for her earlier in the day had revealed her marked out and on down time, scheduled to end in two days. They had held her close to Section the past two weeks under Christine's orders. She had been working heavily with Darcie whose first mandatories was coming up. Michael anticipated a bit of a problem there. He had reviewed Darcie's file himself. She was good, not making the same mistakes that Nikita had. And that was because Nikita knew what they had been and kept Darcie from then.

But the scenarios were dragging her down. She had no problem pulling the trigger but to actually make the kill was a hurdle she had yet to over come. Plus she was ill at ease with a mark, the girl just couldn't open up enough to make her presentation seem real. Putting Darcie into a practice run with Nikita and Erik hadn't worked either. Acting on a suggestion from Walter, Nikita had even had her work with Erik as the mark. Walter had felt since everyone thought the man so harmless that Darcie would too. Unfortunately it had been unsuccessful as the others.

Nikita's being out on downtime gave him the opportunity that he needed. If she refused to come to see him, he would go to her. They needed to talk. At least he hadn't gotten a feeling of anger from her, more of one of being uncomfortable and unsure. It was the same thing he was experiencing. He was sorry for the reaction to her words and he thought perhaps she felt bad over saying them. It was not difficult to see why she had said them but that did nothing to keep them from wounding either. They had however given him a needed push. He just hadn't been able to take the chance they opened for him. Operations' voice brought his mind back to their conversation.

"Good. How do you feel Simon is handling the new position?"

"Needs to work on his diplomacy tactics. But then he never has been the most subtle person."

Operations chuckled a little. There were only two people Simon held his tongue in front of, Madeline and himself. Everyone else, Michael included, was a worthy subject. And he had noticed that the more Simon progressed not only in skill but operative level, the more comfortable he got with saying what he thought. "And I imagine Runkle had a problem with his handling?"

"Simon is pushing him. No different that I would be. Only he would be talking to Simon if he was upset with me. Nothing that time can not handle."

"And your evaluation of Erik?"

"He's a good operative. Nikita and he are working well together. He can be just as convincing as Nikita can. His presence is a welcome addition."

"I had hoped so. Cass was not happy about the transfer but....what your evaluation of the situation in Perth?" They continued to walk, Michael watching the floor and Operations staring straight ahead.

"Stable at the moment. They are unaware of our interest and continue the same activities as before. Gytha Rudelle is still the primary target. There is no doubt that she is taking from the buys as well as the sales. There have been no indications to contradict the fact that she is reaping benefits from her position. She is feeling her freedom and will soon act on it. The aim of which I believe to be a supplier. It would allow her to cement more of her control. It is rare for them to allow a woman in this position. Kassov should be questioned as to why he allowed it."

"I believe that answer would be the oldest one there can be, Michael. She 'charmed' him. Do you think there will be a challenge of her by another member? Male perhaps?"

"No, not with the ruthless way she rules. Took out one member in front of all the rest. Nothing neat or clean about it. But I endorse watching for the time being. We have the gift of time here, I think. I prefer to accept that and sees what develops. But watch it carefully. She is not entirely predictable."

"You're referring to the hit on Fohering?"

"Yes." Operations stopped and Michael brought himself up short. He met the steel gray eyes that peered at him intently. Unsure of what the scrutiny was for, Michael felt compelled to break the silence. "Do you wish me to proceed differently?"

With a shake of his head, Operations dismissed the question. "No, your follow through is fine. I trust your judgement. It has always been sound before. Since I originally set Nikita up as lead on this, I'll have her question Kassov. Perhaps use her as point when we move into Perth. She fits better there than someone else. I questioned her on the area last week and she is fairly familiar with it. Her answers matched very well with intel, even a little more precise. She keeps up on home. A good idea, don't you think."

"Perhaps." Michael forced himself however not comment on the judgement statement. It was a grave misrepresentation of the facts but he was not of the mind to begin an argument with the man. Things had been quiet and neutral between them, he wanted them to stay that way. He kept his gaze steady on Operations but offered no hint as to what was going on in his head.

There was a hint of a bittersweet smile on Operations' face as he looked away from Michael to start walking again. He looked the same as he did 5 years ago but the look on the inside was so different. He was definitely a changed man. In ways he missed the old Michael, before the hardness had gotten so bad. There had been glimpses of the fresh to the Section Michael recently. The old anger and belligerence had been strong and vibrant. It was gone or perhaps smothered again was a better way to put it. There had been that haunted look too. But now that was carefully packed away too. He was undemonstrative and detached. Aloof from the body of Section unless approached. Operations wondered where Michael kept the trunk he hid everything away in.

His evaluations of the team members during the Balkans mission had been succinct and blunt. But there had not been a single point in any evaluation that Operations disagreed with. Good points had even been found for Doyle. Operations had been surprised to even see a note of praise for Doyle's handling of a situation. He made a mental note to himself to tell that to Doyle upon their next conversation. It might help ease some of the strife between him and Michael.

Operations stopped again, as if his next comment was off the cuff instead of planned. "Will you be staying late tonight, Michael? Christopher was going to prepare me salmon with lemon dill sauce. If I remember correctly, you have a fondness for it. Would you join me? We haven't had dinner together in a long time."

"I have other plans. Unfortunately I am unable to change them to take you up on your offer."

There was no 'perhaps another time' and that irritated Operations. "Not for old time's sake? We used to dine together quite regularly."

Michael contemplated Operations for a moment, weighing what he was about to say. He decided it was best to be blunt. "Things change. We're beyond that point now. And we are unable to go back to it either." He moved past Operations and disappeared around the next corner. Alone and feeling bruised, Operations could only watch in the direction Michael had walked. Truth was not something a person always wanted to hear.

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Humming in tune with the music from the stereo, Nikita checked the chicken. It was bubbling merrily and just starting to smell pretty good. She turned the oven down and went back to cutting the vegetables for her salad. "This cooking stuff is not really all that hard. I just never tried. It's actually kinda fun." With an almost proud and happy look on her face, she picked up the tune of the song again. Celtic tunes had never been a favorite of hers but Martina had hummed them a lot. And now Nikita found them soothing, almost like Martina was right there humming them herself. The memory still stung...

Taking a drink from the water bottle, she scooped the cut peppers up and dropped them in a bowl. Grabbing several stalks of celery, she rinsed them and started to cut them. The brief knock on the door startled her, causing her to just miss her finger. She held it up, there was a red mark but no blood. It just hurt and if she hadn't been quick enough....

Someone knock again and she rolled her eyes at the door. Feeling a little annoyed she yanked open the door, not even looking at the monitor. Michael froze in mid grab for the doorknob, a key in his other hand. "Hi. Do you have company?"

Nikita smiled at him. He knew damn well she didn't. Otherwise he wouldn't have had that key in his hand which he was trying to now subtly sneak back into his pocket. Was he why she had this sudden urge to cook? A hope that he would finally show up here because she had not the courage to go back just yet to the cabin? "No, I am making dinner though. Hungry? I've made too much for just one person. Leftovers are probably not a good idea."

Michael stepped inside, relieved at her smile and her invitation. Hopefully, her reasoning behind leaving the cabin with such abruptness would be as easy to overcome as knocking on the door and being let in. He shrugged his coat off as he watched her scamper back into the kitchen and pull out a pot. Leaning against the counter, he continued to quietly watch her, a small smile on his face. She looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. "What's that look for?"

"Miss Martha Stewart the second."

"Jerk." Nikita tossed a corkscrew at him. "Get the wine out of the refrigerator and open it. Make yourself useful. I don't need you to hold up the side of the counter there. The nails do that just fine." He started to cross behind her and stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Looking to see what you're making." he replied as he opened the oven. "Chicken Marsala?" came his question as he closed the oven and picked up a lid from the pot on the stove. "Smells that way" He continued passed her and then pulled out the bottle, looking it over and nodding in approval.

"Yes it is." She paused in her chopping to look at him. "You like it, don't you?

Michael started to uncork the bottle and nodded. "Yes, love it. Glasses?"

"Last cabinet next to where you got that." She pointed at the bottle.

"Got them." He poured the wine and held out a glass to her. "Is that where you've been the past two weeks, cooking class?"

"No, I didn't take..." She looked up at the eyes that questioned her over the top of the wineglass. Slowly he put it down on the counter and came closer.

"It has been awfully quiet at home. Lonely too. You took your things. Why?"

"Wonder how long it was going to take you to ask that. I needed to back off. It happened too fast."

"Too fast?"

"One minute it's life or death situation....the next we're like living together. At what price? I had to back off. Somebody was going to get hurt or they were going to issue an ultimatum, one way or another." She turned away to turn off the oven and pull out the chicken. " I just beat them to the punch. Look, I've learned my lesson about real and unreal...things that are too good don't last for us. Unfortunately it's only the first one of them I've mastered."

For the moment, he let the last comment pass, he didn't want to push that whole experience yet.. Though it told him that she was at least somewhat willingly to discuss it. "You couldn't tell me? You just decided and did it?"

"It was the best thing I could think of to do. No arguing that way." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "I couldn't be there. Not yet....everything happened there." Turning to face him again, she tried to make him understand. "I experienced something very emotional and very real, Michael. At least for me it was. It was everything I've come to want. And it was everything I can't have. Probably will never have. And most of it happened there. I was happy. I was content. I was living." Nikita took a deep drink from her glass and turned back to the refrigerator.

Michael couldn't keep the hurt and sarcasm out of his voice. "Then why did you come back?"

"Just like last time, for you."

"I'm not understanding you, what do you mean for me?" Michael took the dressing bottle and lettuce from her hands and placed them on the counter. She started to grab for the lettuce but he stopped her hand. "Please answer me first."

"He took you away from me. I wanted you back." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Nikita?" He pulled her chin up so he could see her eyes. "Again?"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to make her voice stronger. "Taylor killed you at the opening of the addition to your gallery. That's when I knew it couldn't be real. You wouldn't have left us like that. You didn't fight to live. And I knew it was wrong and that I didn't belong there."

"Then why...."

"Everything is going to be cold. Can we sit and eat? We can talk at the same time. We'll work on this honesty streak we've got going."

It didn't take long to set things out. Michael knew things felt awkward and he could only guess that she sensed it too. They hadn't sat and talked like this for a long time. There was a lot to discuss and there had just not been time. He was determined tonight was going to be that time. He had checked carefully before he left. There was not a single thing in the works that hinted at the need for either one of them till at the earliest late tomorrow. If his luck held, there would be no phone calls with an emergency either.

Michael took a bite and nodded his head. "Tastes very good."

"Thank you.....OK....we've started this. Let's keep it going. Before I lose my nerve. I have another reason. I felt you needed time and space too."

He didn't try to conceal his puzzlement. "How so?"

"I listen to you from the trees. At the graveyard. You didn't need me staring you in the face when you got back. You have enough to sort out. That was a big step and I know it hurt to do it."

"Oh, I see." His discomfort showed. "Yeah, it did a lot." He looked down at his plate, forehead resting against his hands as his thumbs slid back and forth over his eyebrows.

Nikita wasn't sure how to take the comment so she tried to another track. "It's between us. I told them I couldn't find you. Our secret, OK?" He nodded at her words and then picked up his fork. They ate in silence for several minutes.

With a sigh, Michael put down his fork and folded his hands together again. "So they sent you out after me. Who was it?"

"Madeline...with the promise of possible leniency in regards to her finding out about Katie. So far no repercussions. But I know they're out there somewhere just waiting to hit."

"I agree. She won't let it go for long. She was quite clear and curt in her words to me on it. She plans to put it in my file regarding my actions and attitude. I expressed my lack of concern to her about it. I think it only further irritated her. However, there is Raymond who may help cushion her blow somewhat."

"I don't like him. I don't know who's worse, Madeline, Operations or Raymond." She toyed with the food on her plate. The memories of holding and being with both Katie and Reese were strong and vivid. That empty feeling was growing in strength again. The feeling of being threatened from all sides was gaining momentum too. It had hit with tremendous force waking up in Medlab and feeling Taylor's presence only to find that it was Raymond. He had become a threat to her and nothing had proven to her yet that he wasn't.

"Raymond is fine. We have to be concerned about Operations and Madeline. I think Raymond got to both of them. He is not a fearful man. He takes everything head on and then digs under the surface till he finds a trigger. Then he leans against it and pushes till you give in or it blows. Scarily perceptive. You know how most people are very wary and afraid in the white room. Not a bit for him. He was extremely curious about it. Understood it almost."

"Uh-huh." She sounded doubtful.

"Try to get to know him. He could turn into the friend we need around here." Nikita greeted his words with silence and a steady gaze. That was another issue to work on later. "So we now have two secrets that are just between us....is there room for another?"

"And that would be?" Nikita leaned back and pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. The hard part was coming.

"If it was what you wanted and it made you feel happy, share it with me." He gave her a lop-sided, halfhearted smile. "I could use a bit of someday."

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The wooden staff slicing within less than an inch of his nose made Doyle step back and glare at Simon for a moment. He blocked the next parry and backpedaled, dropping his own staff and holding up his hands. "Time out!"

Simon backed off but held his staff waist high. He was as relaxed as a coiled spring. "You got a problem, baby boy?" With a quick movement, he snagged Doyle's staff with his foot and launched it at him. "Pick it back up. You never drop the staff. You hold it at rest. Never drop your guard. Aren't you ever going to learn that? " He got a little closer to Doyle who stood his ground.

"Who said my guard was down?"

Without saying a word, Simon swung the staff. Doyle's focus was on the arc of it and not Simon's legs. Sweeping Doyle's legs out from under him and then thrusting down with the semi scoop end of the staff, Simon looked grimly down into his sweaty face. The end rested against his larynx. Showing his teeth with a snarl of anger, Doyle grabbed the wood and shoved upwards. It didn't budge.

"I called time out!"

Shaking his head, Simon lightly kicked Doyle's thigh and bounced back. "I doubt you ever got to call time out in a mess hall hackfest and you don't get it in the field. I usually don't honor it here either. You got one. Get your butt up." He turned and started to walk away, seemingly unconcerned about Doyle.

Getting to his feet at the same time as grabbing his staff, he struck at Simon. Only Simon was ready for him, he knew Doyle would come at him again. Blocking the strike, Simon crouched slightly and cut Doyle's legs out from under him again using the staff braced against his biceps and shoulder. Simon gave him a point for his quick recovery but not the way he was retaliating in anger. Typical fashion for him that was going to get him killed. He aimed for Simon's face. Arching back, Simon missed the blow and delivered a fist to Doyle's unprotected chest. The air shot out of his lungs in a loud 'whoosh' and he fell backwards.

Standing up straight, Simon leisurely stretched and flexed himself as Doyle rolled unto his stomach, holding his chest and groaning. With a small disgusted and dissatisfied smile, Simon grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "You reacted in anger. That's why you lost again. Do you just not understand or was your head slammed into the bars too many times so stuff falls out of the cracks? Damn it, Doyle! None of us want to bring you back here in a body bag from a mission. Or anybody else you may drag down with you."

"Go to hell." Doyle wheezed at him. "I think you broke something."

"Hit you in the solar plexus...hurts like a bitch and you think you're gonna die but unfortunately you get to live with maybe a bruise for a couple of weeks."

"Great. Thank you ever so much." Doyle's voice was low but the wheezing sound was gone.

"You go back under Michael's eye soon. You better be ready. I don't think you are but ... you know, I'll let you sink or swim on your own. Doesn't matter to me. You're an adult with at least a quarter of a brain, I'll let you make your own choices." He gave a short laugh. "They must have loved you inside." Simon turned around to face Doyle, only to find him still on the floor. "Did you lay down for them too?"

"Come again?" Slowly Doyle got to feet and adjusted his clothes. The collar of the gray shirt he wore seemed entirely too snug. Simon seemed pretty conversant with life in prison and it made him wonder why.

"Baby boys like you are prime choice in lock up. Or was that why you ended up in solitary so often? Self defense or the cause of the fight?"

"You wouldn't...."

"15 years inside....32 times in solitary. Not a single overnighter either. All at least a week in length. Got to be a god damn record. How the heck did you manage it? You must have one hell of a vivid imagination. Only way you could have stayed sane, that is just too much time alone with the demons in your head." Simon stripped off his shirt and wiped off his chest. Doyle could see numerous small scars across the musculature. A jagged one about 5 inches long ran from the middle of his breastbone, catching the pec area to the middle of his rib cage. Turning and stooping as he walked off the mat, Simon picked up his workout shoes. Doyle was astonished to see the scars that crisscrossed his back. They looked like gouges that had been made by long fingernails but Doyle doubted they had been given by a woman. They were too thick and ragged.

"Where did you get the scars?" Doyle's question made Simon stop and look over his shoulder.

"They all have their own stories."

"Then I'll ask for two brief book reviews. The design on your back?"

"I was whipped once and left to heal on my own. End of story." His voice was hard and stiff.

Doyle decided it was either to do with a botched mission or Section punishment. "The beauty on your chest?"

Turning with a cocky movement, Simon leaned against the doorframe. "Year 4, lifetime, knife made out of a food tray. I smashed his pretty boy skull to bits against the cinder block before the loss of blood and the guards stopped me. I was in the infirmary for a month and re-sentenced. Seems I hurt a guard pretty bad, still don't remember it. Got to go visit death row.

"Lifetime for what?"

"I loved my coke, my liquor and the feel of fast car. They don't mix very well with each other or the cops. You can say my sheet can cover a couple of beds. One day got mad at the wife. Shoved her in the car. Took off down the highway. Screaming and cussing at her. Smacking her as I drove. Was just about to toss her out of it when I saw the van. Family of 5. Out of the 7 involved, I'm the only one alive. Makes for nice dreams sometimes."

"How'd they get you out?"

"Death row, man. I felt the needle and next thing I knew I was here. Simone offered me life or death. I took her up on the deal she made about life. I figured I'd get back what I really wanted soon enough."

"Simone? Namesake or a dream?"

There was a sadness to the shake of Simon's head. "Neither...she's Michael's late wife."

Doyle rolled his eyes, playing up the disgusted look. He wanted to see if Simon would own up to the truth and he did. He felt a little respect for the man start to grow. "Like I said before the guy is a ...."

"Doyle, don't say it. I have a tremendous amount of respect and loyalty for Michael. He's the only reason I'm still alive. I said yes to her to be able to get my butt back on the outside. That man yanked me up just before they tossed me in abeyance. It was my final chance. The only way back to the outside was 6 feet under and rotting into the soil. He made me want to take the other way because he became my friend. Anybody who tells you he doesn't have them or makes them is wrong. They just didn't look or try. He was the only one who really tried after my father died......"

He paused, remembering the way Michael had pushed him to the breaking point and made him admit things he never had to anybody else. And for the first time that Simon could remember other than his father, someone had understood him and cared. Not even Melissa had been able to do that. Now knowing why Michael had understood made he all the more glad they were friends. "Michael's the only reason a lot of operatives around here are still alive. It really bothers him to sacrifice...either innocent or operative."

"Hey, haven't we all had to do that?" Doyle knew all about sacrifice. He had done that to a good part of his life for this place so far.

"Not like he has. Michael has lost more than his fair share. He has come through things that ... He lost his parents in some way so heinous that he can't bring himself to say. Somehow it's connected to this place but I know he blames himself. Has no idea of the fate of his sister. He lost his wife and child within 3 months of each other. Their deaths he takes the blame for too. Section has done a hand in doing a lot of the damage. Did you know Operations had Nikita cancelled about a year ago?"

Doyle looked at him with narrowed eyes. "But she's leading like a team now. I thought she was like trusted around here." That was news. He didn't remember reading that.

"Yeah she is but she wasn't 'up to standards'. He had Michael do it. Do you know how we ALL hated him for that? Even I doubted him. For six months he fought his way through a private abyss that almost killed him. There was a real black cloud over this place. He wasn't the only one around here that lost somebody that time. Then she came back. And hell broke loose after that....not her fault though...just the stuff we've been through. What has happened to them and us in the past few months.... And still those two are ....Doyle do you have any idea how much we've lost around here? Operations almost took apart the only hope this place is got and now we're paying for that."

Silently Doyle considered what Simon told him. "Michael's a driven man, isn't he?"

"By demons I can't even begin to fully understand. Nikita is one of the few who does. Unfortunately she spends the time fighting his and ignoring her own. I hope he can get away from his long enough to fight hers when the need arises. Those two are linked, come heaven or hell, come God or Satan himself as my Grandmother used to say. We make bargains, lie, cheat and steal from Death and the devil in this place every day. If you can find a measure of peace or redemption, you take it. Whatever form its in, whenever it comes."

"He was really in Red Cell?"

"Yeah pretty much raised in it. Maybe that's where the worst stuff come from. Don't tap into any of it though. I did once and he almost killed me. And I'm a friend."

"And is Christine your redemption?" Doyle had been eager to find out if he was really involved with the doc. He was intrigued with the lady and wanted to get to know her as well as he could. The little scene in the exercise room could have been just some worked up sexual bother. Christine was a nice looking woman. If he had been in Simon's place at the time, he would have taken the chance.

"Doyle, I hadn't been close to anyone but Michael for a long time. Let's say I was scared to be around many other people. Too many bad vibes. Nikita changed that. I respect and trust her as much as I do Michael. Christine proved herself on the last mission. She gave her all to get them out of that mess. She was field trained but never tested. Never asked a question, never backed down. Took on an armed guy twice her size and gave us the time we needed to secure the problem. He easily could have killed her but she never blinked an eye."

He recalled her coolness and ferocity with a small smile. Chrissy could fight and was good at it. It was only one of the many things she was good at. "In the aftermath, we had time to talk and get to know each other. I've come to care about her as much as I do Nikita and Michael. The three of them are my friends and redemption. I help keep them alive, they do the same for me. That's how it works around here. Get the job done however you can Operations says. But only sacrifice if that is the absolutely only way to do it is Michael's addition."

The room was silent. Doyle wasn't satisfied. He knew Michael and Nikita were involved. In fact, everyone seemed to accept it as it was and go on their way. Like it was perfectly natural and didn't break any rules. However, he was still not entirely positive that Simon and Christine were.

Simon could tell that Doyle was debating his next move or words. He was going to short circuit him. Deliver his warning and walk away. Doyle's head came up as Simon came up to him. "This is my one and only warning. You do anything to hurt or interfere with Christine. Or she catches any flack from somebody because of something that falls from your lips because of something you THINK is going on, regardless of what you saw... Be prepared. And be afraid."

The nice talk was done. The animosity was back but his suspicions were confirmed. Simon hadn't warned about Michael or Nikita just Christine. That was all Doyle needed. The antagonism was clear in Doyle's eyes as he tensed himself up to meet Simon's challenge. The black eyes that glittered back at him were as hard as obsidian. And the threat was as clear as glass. "For what? Of what?"

"Section One to be short one Irish man, permanently. And how I'm going to do it!" At that, Simon turned on the ball of his foot and walked away. Doyle looked around and let out a slow noisy breath when he saw he was alone. Simon was no more to be trifled with than Michael was. He didn't feel that he had as much to lose as the Iceman did. That made him even more dangerous. For once Doyle admitted to himself that he felt some trepidation, he was on his own. Walter couldn't be counted on to back him up on anything, he had already gave his stance on it. He sighed grimly because deep down there was some begrudging respect growing for all of them.

Yes he resented them for flaunting the rules but he also knew that was calling the kettle black. Rules had never been Doyle's favorite thing. When you feel you're special, they had a tendency to apply to others, not you. And with having Rupert as an old man, he had been treated pretty special. You did what the kid wanted, cause if you didn't, his father made you want to do it.

He thought about how Dad had left him to take the blame for that bus. He never knew that model bomb was going to turn into the catastrophe that it did. He was caught in a tempest from which there had been no escape. He hadn't wanted to die. Oscar's offer was too good. The price was steep but it meant he got to live. Even having to give up Gillian was not as important as that. He took the blame along with another, Brinn, who had been executed. He had the onus of being the trigger man. Doyle was just the maker and ended up with life.

Hearing the sentence, he had turned to look at Oscar only to see him leave the courtroom. Stunned, Doyle had let the court constable lead him back to the cells. For hours he had sat there in a shocked stupor remembering the promises that had been made. And then the declaration of life again and again in his head. Then the next day, he found out the prison. Maze, the worst that he could have imagined and that was his reward. He had shuffled to the van and discovered himself to be the only prisoner going.

Doyle shook his head as he remembered his surprise at the voice from the guard sitting with him. Oscar pulled off the hat but not the rest of his disguise and the rest of it had been laid out for him. He wondered if that was how it went for all of them. He had grown up in that hell hole. With a sigh, he picked up the staff and studied it. He was sick of getting beat on. Here wasn't any different than the first few months in there had been. He had learned to fight for himself because it was the only way. You fought dirty and mean. You made your unhappiness and disgust with a situation known as loudly as you could. You made the biggest statement you could in the brightest way.

But the ways in learned in prison weren't working here. Both Simon and Michael had been trying to show him what was an easier better way. Suddenly Doyle swung the staff and ended half kneeling in the position Simon had dumped him with earlier. He decided to drop some of the attitude he'd been carrying around. It was starting to trip him worse than an untied shoe. The ways of Section were a little more subtle. He had been a little too loud. "New place, new ways."

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Chapter 2

The lights were off and the music played softly in the background. The wind blow enough through the open French doors that it made the flames on the candles flicker in protest. Michael felt content just leaning against the old chair in the corner. Nikita laid comfortably against his chest, eyes closed and one arm resting on his upraised knee. He played gently with a lock of her hair between his fingers, watching the candles through half closed eyes. Images of the things she had described moved slowly through his head.

"So I need to get a fireplace then?" he asked quietly.

"What? Where are you getting that idea?" Nikita leaned her head back against his shoulder so she could see his face.

"Have to work on my romantic hero image." He grinned at her as she elbowed him.

"Give me a break. No, I like you edgy. I think it's your dark side that attracts me anyway. I think I imagined you a little sappy."

"How so? I don't recall anything 'sappy'." He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head as he watched her hands move as she talked. The light from the candles' flames reflected their shadowed movement across the room.

"I didn't tell you about the pearls."

"Pearls?"

"It was our anniversary. You gave me a pearl necklace. We sat on the shore. It was freezing but you made me sit out there with you and you had your bare feet in the water. I couldn't believe you were doing that. But you pulled out this small velvet pouch and opened it. You made me hold out my hands and you spilled the necklace into them. Then for each pearl you told me a reason why you loved me. By the time you were done I was in tears. I felt so good. Should have known it wasn't..."

Michael tilted her chin up and gave her a long kiss. "Someday" he whispered.

"Yeah, right." Nikita pushed him away and started to get up. She knew that was never going to happen and didn't want to dwell on it. "Warm fuzzies are not me and they certainly aren't you," she said sarcastically as she got to her knees.

"Don't break it, Nikita. Let's enjoy our time while we can." His voice sounded sad and almost mournful. Slowly she pivoted around to look at him.

"What's that suppose to mean?" She placed hands on both hips and fixed troubled eyes on him. "What are you trying to say? What's going to happen now? Don't be cryptic with me. We're being honest tonight. No hidden meanings or keeping secrets."

Michael watched her face. Keeping secrets....some have to be kept, they're able to cause too much pain. "Don't think about that. Tonight has been nice and I don't want the outside to intrude yet. Neither of us can guarantee that phone isn't going to ring. We can only hope it won't and enjoy the time together. Things change too fast in our world not to."

She looked at him for a long minute. A dozen sarcastic remarks flashed around in her head. Each one she rejected as being too mean or too hurtful. He didn't deserve any of them either. Hesitantly she moved back towards him and settled into her original position. The silence stretched on as they sat together watching the candles flicker.

So much for not letting the outside in, he had decided earlier that it was time to talk. The opportunity was here. He just had to take the chance... "Nikita?"

"Yup?"

"There is a lot about my past that recently you've discovered. And I think it has allowed you a greater understanding of me. Right?" He stroked some of her hair back as she nodded yes. "Then may I ask the same of you? There is a lot I don't know and I don't like that. You know my ghosts. I want to know yours."

"Like what?" Nikita forced herself to stay relaxed. She had known it was coming and there was no way around it this time.

"How did you end up here?" He stroked her hair some more, watching the light reflect in it.

Not exactly the expected question but she answered him. "You know that story. It was all that skinhead's fault. He was the one who killed that cop not me. But who was going to be believed? Another cop or some street person high on brown sugar? No one listened to anything I said. After all I was holding the knife...I doubt they even tried to prove anything else.... "

"Maybe you're right... but I mean here, to get in that situation. This wasn't where you were born. Litta and Taylor were not from here either." He felt her body immediately grew rigid with tension. "I'm sorry. Forget it."

"No... you asked, I should answer. I was 12 when they instituted my mother. Judge gave me to her whatever he was. They called him a de facto husband, made him my 'guardian'. He planned to hire me out. Make my existence and his time worthwhile. I took off. Spent around 3 years on the street. Got picked up one night at a club, working a hustle. I was in a detention center like place for about 4 months before a residence and contact order was issued to Litta and Taylor. They got me with all parental rights for my mother and the other guy severed."

"Was he your father?"

"No." Nikita's answer was short. Momma's words about her father were too harsh to even think about. Much less tell Michael. To do so could create more questions about things she had no answers to. Answers she wasn't interested in getting anyway. What good would they do her? To find out he was a basket case just like Momma? No, she didn't want to face something like that. It make her too worried about the future.

Michael waited for a moment. "I understand." He brushed his hand against her cheek and she leaned her head against it.

"My 16th birthday was bad. That was the day they told me we were leaving Perth, 'needed to get me away from the bad element there'. We moved here. I made 'friends' fast. Bad ones. The old ones were saints compared to these. They were all hot for him. He was a teacher and it was that school girl thing I guess. Had a party on one of their houses one night, we all got drunk and then the drugs came out."

She leaned forward, and started moving her finger in a circle on the carpet as she stared down at it. " The talk was flying thick. And there was some coke and something else, I don't remember what it was. Tried one and some of the coke too. Didn't think much of it either. Must have been too drunk. The combo messed with my head though. Party wasn't interesting anymore. Staggered home. Mad at the world and certainly not thinking clearly. Litta was away.... again. He was sitting there. Told all about the things they said and played up to him. Seeing what he would do....he was the first one...." Her voice trailed off.

Wishing he could see her eyes, he put a hand on her shoulder to pull her backwards but she pushed it off. "Waking up the next morning ...I couldn't look at him, I couldn't even look in the mirror.....I was finally that slut Momma always said I was. Dirty, useless and stupid."

He could feel the shivers going down her body. Suddenly she was on her feet and he was looking up at her eyes awash with tears. She was trembling and he could hear it in her voice. "He didn't mention it till two nights later. Litta was at a meeting. I tried to leave but he saw me. Cornered me in the hallway. Told me he was going to give me a ring someday. Just the two of us. Stupid naive little bitch! At first he told me he was in love with me. I had wanted to hear those words so bad from someone... I believed him, I wanted it so bad. Grandma Tessie was the only other person who had said it to me and she was dead."

"Maybe that was why for so long I never looked at it the way you did when I told you. You try to cover the truth of something bad by painting it a different color. I was his 'golden girl'. Felt for me what he couldn't feel for Litta, that what we had was special. I believed him at first. Because I wanted someone to care about me so bad...then I started to wise up, I started to pull away. He wanted to control everything about me. I told him I was going to tell her. Then to keep me quiet it changed to Litta wouldn't understand it. Told me she would send me away if she found out. I was scared by then. I was terrified of him. I wasn't in love with him, didn't want him near me. Let him know it very clearly. Didn't stop him at all."

The shaking was getting worse and the trembling in her voice started to turn to sobs. "No, I said no. Every chance he got.... he told.... me that... since I already said yes....once you say yes the first time, no ....doesn't count. Not until I got pregnant. Then it was different. No longer his "golden girl" I was a whore... I seduced him and wouldn't stay away from him. Turned Litta against me. She hated me, refused to listen to me.... no one ever listens to me. They see the steel and never the rust, never a single hole, never see or hear the tears ......

Nikita had started to pace as she talked. Michael comprehended that she was as trapped by the past as he was. Only she fought it every step of the way. Lately though, the fight had gotten to be too much. It was impossible to not only hide from it but keep it hidden from others. As he got to his feet, she leaned her hands against the counter fighting to get control again. "So pretty and I was afraid to hold her because I didn't want to love her. She wasn't suppose to be and she wasn't mine. I had no right to her. I wasn't fit. I didn't understand how to love the right way. I was sick. Once a street creature always a street creature."

Michael knew she was repeating words that either Litta or Taylor had thrown at her. It hurt him to hear them, but he could imagine a terrified teenager experiencing them. In a way, Litta and Taylor were just like L' Araigne. He reached out a hand to touch her upper arm and she spun around.

Smacking his hand away, her temper flared. "He's right. I gave her to strangers. Time and again. Like she means nothing to me! I wasn't suppose to love her! If she didn't know me ....she couldn't be like me!!! I had already become like my mother. Had to break the cycle with her. Give her a chance. I told you before how I ran. Heroin killed the pain. Numbed everything. Made everything GO AWAY!!!! Made me almost forget...."

She pushed him out of the way. The tears were slowing but now the anger was increasing. His questions had uncorked a shaken bottle. "So what did that sweetness get me? That fantastic numbness.... This wonderful life." Her hands shot up in the air. "Wonderful apartment....great job....job security is a little iffy but the benefits are great....money is tax free....travel...clothes... glamour...gadgets....my own little gilded prison cell......Hey even you...one hell of a prison guard."

The tears were stopped completely now. Nikita snapped her fingers at him. "You know what I just realized something. Look at all my accessories!!! I'm a god damn Barbie doll!! No wonder everyone wants to play with me!" She started to giggle. "Guess that makes you Ken....GI Joe version...just what every little girl wants to have for the Barbie that she so desperately wants to be." The giggles stopped abruptly. Her voice got as hard as stone. "But Ken didn't teach Barbie how to fire an AK or take an Uzi apart and clean it. Didn't teach her how to take down a bad guy with her hands. She didn't know how to plant an explosive charge. Or how to lie and manipulate not only others but herself too! She never had to worry that if she didn't do as she was told that she would die. She didn't kill for her bosses!!! I DO!!! And you do too, Mr. Ken!!!"

There was an instant of silence before the next part started. " And before I forget this! I wanted to thank you ever so much for being so truthful to Katie!! You told my daughter what we do!!! I wanted to be able to keep her from this! How could you?"

"Alright, I think we've said enough tonight. You're giving into anger, pulling things down on us we..."

"Yeah all the truth comes out then, doesn't it? And you don't like it!"

"I respect the truth but I don't like to be slammed in the face with it!"

"Guess that's why the truth hurts doesn't it?"

"Alright here's some truth. I told her because she was hysterical when she came back from your little blow off. That was wrong! She's your daughter not something to be brushed off. Even if it was to you a way to keep her safe! It was because of your poor handling of the situation that she was like that. She was loud and angry. Just like you get! And Madeline was on the damn phone. I had to quiet her down. I promised her the truth if she would just be still for a while. I kept my promise. I told her the truth. Give her some credit, Nikita. She is very intelligent and mature for her age. She doesn't deserve another lie."

"She didn't have to know about this. This truth wasn't meant for a 10 year old! Better she thought me a heartless bitch than her mother who murders people."

"We 're not murderers Nikita!! We strike back in the only way we can sometimes. If we don't take some of the bad out of the world, it smothers what's left of ok."

"We're not?! What the hell was Greg then? What about Chaz? Margeaux?" Nikita glared at him. "How about Rudy? Weren't you planning to cancel him?" Hoping he was going to answer her with another one of his company lines because she was ready for it. She had a bellyful at this point. Michael turned away. His heart up in his throat at Margeaux's name and the way she had spat out. If she ever knew the truth of that, he would lose her for sure. And any hopes of someday too.

"Only silence, Michael? Don't you regret a single one of them? Or are you just mired in the guilt over your family? Are they the only ones who are worth your regrets?" His reply was not what she expected. The anger in his voice and face caught her unawares and tempered her own immediately. She would have backed up if the counter hadn't been behind her. His hand sliced through the air in a violent gesture.

"I have regrets! Do you have any idea what I see when I close my eyes and the dreams come? It's not just my parents and L' Araigne I dream about!!! I see every face, every set of eyes...so many I've lost count. Each sacrifice etched in stone in my mind. And the lives saved doesn't wash any of it clean! You're right, OK? That's exactly what I feel like when I have to pull the trigger!! I never dreamed I'd grow up to be this. Damn it, we weren't born this way. Life wasn't suppose to be like this but for some unknown reason twisted around on itself for us."

Michael looked up to the ceiling. "I was made. L' Araigne created me. Section One perfected me." He brought his head and eyes back down to look at her bowed head. "You're destroying me. Walls I built for protection from my life. Brick by brick. Layer by layer. What are you trying to find Nikita? What are you trying to shape me into? Your perfect man or that little boy before L' Araigne got him. Give it up!!! I've looked !! Long and hard!!! Neither are there!!! I didn't want to feel anymore. Because it HURTS!! But you keep demanding it of me! You make me want to!"

"Please. You were right, we've said enough. Sto..."

"No, I want you to understand more about me. Make you understand my motives and what drives me. So you stop turning your anger on me all the time. I'm not the bad guy Nikita! I didn't create this hell we're in. I'm just trying to keep us alive and in one piece till we find the way out!! I wish every day that I was that small boy again. But I look in the mirror and all I find are shadows. They have so well hidden him that he's faded away into the past. Beyond where he can ever be reached again. I groped around on my hands and knees in the pitch black .... "

"I've tried to find and go back down the path that lead me to here many times. It's too dark and too over-grown, impassable.. I'm just like that shell of a home that sits out there now! Falling in on itself. You can pull the wood off the windows to let in the light but it doesn't change how much it's deteriorated!! How much of it has rotted away!! How it doesn't have chance in this hell of living or being whole again!! And you make me want to be that way but I can't find all the pieces!!"

Nikita felt him move away and lifted her head. His coat was in his hand and he was at the door. "Michael, no, don't..." She managed to get between him and the door. She pushed against it, pulling the knob from his hand. "Stay. Please." He turned his head away, looking to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. She slid shaky hands up his chest, one stopped over his heart. "Shells don't have hearts that beat." The other continued up to his cheek where she caressed it with a knuckle. "Eyes that help others see what they need to see." She pressed up against him as she gently kissed the pulse on the side of his throat. "Or blood that flows. I can feel you. It tells me you alive. Here and now. The pieces are there, we just need to put them together."

His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, seeking control over his anger. Suddenly he pulled her head back and grabbed her face with both hands. "Then show me how you feel! Make me feel everything!" he demanded fiercely. "I can't do it alone. Help me put it back together." He kissed her hard then, the same demand there. Her hands were already pulling his turtleneck loose from his waistband. Brusquely he tugged the material from her fingers and yanked it over his head. With the same swiftness, he pulled her shirt off, revealing the matching camisole underneath. He impatiently pulled the straps down with rough fingers from both her shoulders. With his tongue he followed the line of her left shoulder up to her throat and then to her mouth.

Pushing her hands away from his pants, he dug his fingers into her waistband. His sudden intensity frightened Nikita and she grabbed both his hands in an effort to keep from getting swept away. It was a pointless try. He was too insistent and Nikita felt like letting go for just a while. He wanted feeling anyway. Tangling her fingers into the hair on the side of his head, she pulled away from his mouth to explore the pulse along his jaw and neck. With a moan, Michael picked her up and headed to the steps. There had been enough sharing of the past and pain for one night.

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

"Christine!" She looked up as she heard her name called from behind. With a sigh of annoyance, she stopped and turned. The voice hadn't brought an instant image to her head. Raymond hustled up to her and smiled. "Leaving?"

She adjusted the knapsack on her shoulder as she shrugged. "Had thoughts of it, why?"

"Would you mind if we talked about Michael for a moment?"

"Yes." She veered in her original direction and start to move away. The further she stayed away from him and the subject of him, the better off they both would be. Besides she didn't have time

for Raymond right now, she was already running late. That would cause worry.

"You don't want to help your brother?"

"Only child...sorry."

"Christine, or should I call you Paige, I know who your parents were. Raissa and Chancier Samuelle had two children." Raymond knew that wasn't enough to stop her. "Michael is ready to buy a stone for Paige to go in the family plot."

She stopped and tried to catch her breath. If somebody heard him.... a headstone, would Michael really do that? She looked over at the man who was standing next to her again. "You've got a big mouth."

"And you've got a big secret. Two I think, if we want to count your relationship with Simon." His voice was pitched lower with that comment. The slight loss of color in Christine's lips as they pinched together was all the answer Raymond needed. "Where can we talk? Or should I ask one of them for explanations."

Christine narrowed her eyes as she considered him a bit more. "Come to my office, I can close it down." They walked in silence but Raymond could tell that Christine was extremely annoyed. Not only by the set of her shoulders but the loud click of her boot heels with each step she took. He didn't miss the reaction of the staff either as she strode silently in the Medlab door and went straight to her office. They parted like the floe in front of an icebreaker .

The door slide closed behind them. She hit keys on a pad by the door and turned to him. "Sit down and start talking. No! Wait! Better yet, shut up and listen." Christine paced a bit and then she sat on the edge of her desk. For a long moment, she pondered before she spoke. "I know you haven't been here very long. And for the life of me I can't figure out why you made the choice to be here. And why you've become a favored party so quickly and easily, but you better start understanding the rules. Otherwise people are going to start hating you. And so far you have done absolutely nothing to endear yourself to me."

Raymond opened his mouth to reply but Christine held up her hand. "Wait until I've finished my little speech here. You hurt Nikita first of all, shoving her into thinking about that animal from the past. She is my friend. One of the few I have here. I don't like to see her upset like that. It bothers me because I can't fix it. You caused Michael to blow out of here like a hurricane. He comes back with a wall of ice around him like he used to have and that only upsets her more. I haven't seen them talk in 2 weeks. The rumors are starting and they aren't good. People are getting nervous. This is how it started last time! We don't want a repeat! We don't need a repeat!"

"Every relationship has ebbs and....."

"I know that! I've watched that relationship flow and ebb. I've caused it to ebb myself. You've got them in a whirlwind. Now I'm your next target and so is Simon. Knock the crap off, old man. I'm not your next god damn psych case! I'm well adjusted! This physician can heal herself without outside help! If Michael wants to buy Paige a headstone for the family plot let him! It doesn't bother Christine. I am not Paige. My parents are Mitchell and Sylvia Bilwaka! We lived in Portland Maine. Not a ritzy flashy way of growing up but I learned to deal with it. My mother died in a nursing home in Bangor..... 12 years with Alzheimer's. My father died of heart disease waiting for a transplant when I was 14. Now does..."

"Since when is a member of Section One so free to reveal their past life? You know very well who your parents are. I find it unfortunate that you do not have the courage to admit it. Is it because you are ashamed of your brother? Of what he was made to do? I wish you wouldn't feel that way. It wasn't his fault."

With a noise of disgust, Christine got up and slapped on her monitor. With a few taps on the keys, she flipped it around for him to see. "Read, shrink! That's my bio sketch!"

From his flannel jacket, he produced a disk. "Load and run this please." Snatching it, she shoved it in and waited. He turned it around for her to see. "I had Madeline copy this for me. Certain operatives have alternate bio sketches. The ones who have the most to hide. Michael is one, Birkoff does, Nikita's is being developed and you, Paige Samuelle."

"Bogus." Christine slammed the top of the laptop down. "This is Section One, dear heart. They can make you believe anything they want with a cut and paste, a nip and a tuck, small lie here and there. They're so good you can't tell when you're getting played or not. Let me give you a hint, YOU are." She got up and unzipped the leather jacket she had on. With a display of temper, she whipped it against an empty chair in the corner.

"You've got his temper..... You know, that was exactly what the Bilwakas were, a cut and paste. Cut out the set that could get you killed and paste in a white bread American couple to keep the valuable little target safe. A little plastic surgery, some voice lessons....worked very well for a long time. They didn't count on you killing a patient."

Before Raymond could deliver another salvo, she was nose to nose with him. Hands planted in a white knuckle grip on either arm of the chair. Her eyes flashed and her face was hot with color. Her voice was low and full of malice.

"You listen to me and you listen very very good. I am not telling you this again. My childhood is not to be belittled. It sucked and I'm the first to admit! But it was mine and I've learned to deal with that!! Do not mock my parents!! I loved my mom and dad. No matter what! I wanted to be a doctor because of the two of them. I saw someone suffering the same way both my parents had. I could not be the instrument to prolong that man's agony. I gave him peace of mind and peace of spirit. His last words were words of thanks!!! It was his family that had the problem. They could not respect his pain or his suffering and see that it had to end. All they could focus on was their own. And I bore the blunt of the anger they felt over his wish to be somewhere else and not with them!!!"

"Then why do you prolong Michael's suffering?"

"That's Section's doing. Not mine." She stood upright, arms crossed.

"No, you have the power to deaden some of the pain and the guilt from the past for him. Why won't you do it?" Raymond shifted in the chair. This was going to take a while.

"I can't!! I'm not who you think I am!!" She moved away and picked her jacket up off the floor.

"Tu es une salope dure!" Christine refused to acknowledge him. Let him call her an unfeeling bitch. She had been called worse. " Donne paix lui!"

"Peace! I can't give him what isn't mine to give! I can't give him what I don't have!"

"You had no problem understanding me. Why do you refuse to admit it?" She confronted Raymond's words with belligerent silence. He tried another tactic, one he knew was guaranteed a reaction. "Are you afraid to tell him because of Merle? He has hated you for that for a long time. I think at this point you are a mere toleration for him. Possibly because of your closeness to Nikita. How would you feel if he found out that his sister let his son die?"

With a howl of rage, Christine grabbed Raymond's shirt front and tried to drag him up out of the chair. "You son of a bitch! Get up! Get up I said! You weren't there. You don't know what I went through to save that child!" She shoved him away. "A cold ....just the sniffles. I can take care of it. That's what she said. The perfect little mommy. Miss Independent. I can do it all. Almost lost him twice before he was born and she never did fess up to that either. Our little secret. Doctor patient confidentiality! He had chicken pox! She gave him aspirin for the fever! She opened the breeding grounds for Reyes!"

"He was shutting down left and right. I couldn't stop...I didn't know what it was....no matter what I tried...it was so many things.....all I knew was that he was slipping away so fast....then nothing. She refused to wait. Very matter of fact. Take care of it before Michael comes home. He can't face this. I told her to leave things till he got back, it would only be a few hours. No, her way was the only way. Trash everything. Buried before Michael got here. Took them 3 days to get him back here. I begged her to stop. No stay out of it you aren't family!"

Again she shoved Raymond, this time in the chest. The chair scraped the floor as his legs hit it. "Family! Not family! What did that little back street bitch know about family! NOTHING!! She was a frigging watchdog, never let anybody near him or Michael. Like they were a possession of hers. I wasn't family!!! She wouldn't even stay with us while I worked on him. She stayed in ops!!! I was the one who held him! I had to go out there and tell her! Not one god damn tear!!! And then I watched her tear my brother's heart APART!!! And then she tore me apart. There wasn't anything I could do. Bitch! And now she's saint Simone and I'm just Doc Christine!!"

"You didn't like your sister in law much did you?"

"I hated...." Christine brought herself up short. Anger had made her brain run off again and left the mouth free to say what it wanted. "I'm not who...I don't...didn't..." It was too late and she knew it. "It won't help any if he knows. What can it change? Certainly not the past."

"Maybe make his present better and the future easier to get to? How long do you expect Nikita to keep it a secret for you?"

"Obviously she didn't. She told you." She felt betrayed by that. Nikita had said she would never tell. Would Simon be the next to blab it? Perhaps to Michael even?

"No, she did not. I understood it from what I experienced with her. She saw you as her sister too. She thinks a lot of you. She would not betray you. I think Michael has even asked her point blank and she denies any knowledge. That places a huge burden on her. If he finds out accidentally, he will turn on her in anger. Probably you too."

"Maybe that's why I don't want to say anything. He doesn't like me very much as it is...." With a loud sigh, Christine threw herself on the couch and grabbed a throw pillow. Wrapping her arms around it, she stared at a spot on the floor. She felt guilty over her thoughts about Nikita. "I got to do it soon, don't I ?"

"Yes." Raymond sat on the couch next to her. "He needs something. If you talk to him one on one, perhaps that will ease the blow. Though he is not always predictable. Perhaps he may not get angry at all." Quiet filled the room as Christine continued to stare at the floor and Raymond waited patiently for her reply. Suddenly the door slid open and Simon strode in, a folder in his hand.

"Hey, Chrissy. Rin said you hadn't left yet and I wanted..." He stopped his smile frozen on his face. Simon watched her eyes and face closely. He hoped she would somehow tell him if she had a problem. So far, she hadn't given him a clue. "Hey, sorry I thought you were alone. I'll be ....never mind...later." He started to exit.

"Simon, come back in please." Raymond said rather formally. Simon stopped and the door closed behind him. "Are you here because she was late meeting you?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Simon gave him a puzzled look. "Excuse me? I had a question to ask her about an operative's rehab schedule."

Raymond stood and snatched the folder. He shook it open. "Empty...try again."

"Thought I dropped something. Let me go find it." He started to turn again.

Softly Christine spoke. "Si...stay." Simon first looked Raymond over, animosity clear on his face. She didn't miss the look. "Stop it. He knows everything." Raymond watched the quick glance that passed between them. "Yeah, that too."

"Secrets aren't good. The ones you're carrying Christine are deadly. Get rid of them."

Simon held up a hand. He felt he had to defend her decision. After all Raymond didn't understand how much this was eating at her or why she felt it was necessary. "Hold it! Where do you get off telling her what to do?"

Raymond looked over at him, answering in the same defensive tone he had used. . "Where did you with starting a potential explosive relationship with her? You've seen what has happened before with something like this. And Michael has some degree of immunity, you don't. Why take the chance? Why is it worth so much it to you?"

Christine spoke, her voice still soft. "Because we fell for each other."

Simon locked eyes with her. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to hear it. But it was enough for now. "And if we die because of it, well, at least there was now." It felt good to see her slowly nod her head even if her eyes were focused on the floor.

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

"Are you asleep?" Nikita asked softly. Michael was wrapped around her, his head just under her chin.

"Dozing. Why?" He moved away a little so he could see her face. Her eyelids looked heavy and he could tell she was fighting to stay awake.

"Want to say I was sorry." She kissed him lightly on the chin. "I went off on you again. It wasn't right or fair to you. I let the outside in."

"But it was me who opened up the door and gave the invitation. We're even." He tucked her head back into the crook of his shoulder and pressed his cheek against it. "Try to sleep."

"Hard to do that lately." Her voice was low and he could feel that she was unwinding. The tension she had earlier gone. He had to confessed he felt the same way. Michael didn't mind if the feeling decided to stay around for a while.

He gave a small chuckle. "Even after all that?"

She reached up and slipped her fingers into the hair on the side of his head. "Yeah. I'm getting like you. I don't need much sleep." Even though she was professing she couldn't, her voice sounded groggy. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair lightly.

"Dreams?"

"Ummm." Her voice was a fuzzy murmur. She was almost asleep.

"Like you've told me. I'm here....." Her arm relaxed around his head and he could hear her breathing deepen. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'll keep watch." A hush covered the apartment but he could still hear the highway noises coming from the still ajar French door. He debated getting up and closing it. But he didn't want to disturb her. The position of her arm around his head though was beginning to bother his neck. Gently he moved her arm lower. It was enough to make her mutter in her sleep and roll away from him.

Michael stayed still until he was sure she was settled again. Then he readjusted himself. Sleep was not coming for him tonight. His body was relaxed but his head had a million thoughts racing through it. The main one was Taylor Foller. He had tried to temper his anger towards the man since Nikita had told her story about Katie. But now he was getting more of the story and it was getting worse all the time. Just like his anger. That man had taken the dream of a normal life with a home and caring family that Nikita had so craved and mangled it.

The cruelty of the man was amazing. What had driven him to do that to a young girl? He was suppose to be taking care of her, not taking advantage. Michael was not feeling very forgiving towards Litta Foller either. She must have surely been able to see if not feel that something was going on. Had she just turned a blind eyes to because she was afraid of the truth? Or had she done it because she hadn't really cared? But then wasn't that how it was played? It all seemed to boil down to just that in the game of where to place the blame. Everyone said it wasn't their fault and that they never realized anything was wrong.

He was starting to understand just where that fear she used to have in her eyes when she looked at him had come from. That was a fear that Taylor had instilled in her. The fear of being used and the fear of being taken advantage of by someone. She covered it with others but had somehow felt comfortable enough with him to let some of it show. But not comfortable to tell him everything. Or maybe afraid enough of him that she couldn't hide it. He wondered if at one time she had held him in the same regard as she did Taylor, he hoped not.

Michael started to stifle a yawn. Reluctantly he had to acknowledge the fact that he was tired and could probably sleep for a while. He closed his eyes and allowed his concentration to drift from his thoughts to just absorb the sounds. They were different from those at the cabin. There were no frogs, ducks or geese. He couldn't hear the wind or the swish of the lake water against the shore. They had finally fixed the fountain in the center courtyard but the sound of the water just wasn't the same. It rushed and was loud, even here in the apartment.

There was a different pulse here, always had been. It hadn't changed from years ago but he didn't feel the fit here now that he did with the cabin. It was still life but it throbbed with an intensity, an urge to rush on. The throb at the cabin was more of a steady feeling. It had a certainty, this didn't. It was as if at any moment it might just stop.. Here there were the short bursts of sounds all with the low constant buzz from the highway. There was an occasional shout and sometimes a siren. Michael tucked an arm up behind his head, yawning again. He still wasn't comfortable.

Slowly he slid down so he laid flat on his back. His movement stirred Nikita who rolled towards him now, mumbling in her sleep. She wrapped around him, determining his position for him. With a small smile on his face, he tucked his arm under and around her. Sleep would be ok tonight, she was there.

End of part one...

written by Tammy

Continue on to The Policy of Truth, part two

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