SHADES OF GREY IV

Chapter 21

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Operations looked over the report from Michael. Mrs. Linsdon had been a busy lady. Ever since her husband Gregoire had been discovered dead, she had been tidying up his affairs. The death had been ruled a suicide but Operations doubted it. It wasn't just the suicide he doubted but the death. A man with Gregoire Linsdon's connections did not kill himself. The man was in hiding and his wife was getting ready to go to him, along with their 9 month old child.

Linsdon had just met with a dealer who specialized in cheap Bosian war left overs. The stuff was deadly and plentiful. The ones they had managed to net had Walter screaming about the design flaws. Some of which were down right potentially catastrophic in an enclosed area. Linsdon had to be in hiding. Anything else didn't fit.

Michael's report had agreed with Operations' assumption but he had advised that they bring in the wife with the child and flush Linsdon out with an implied threat to their safety. Operations' frowned. Instead of taking the hard approach that was his usual style, Michael had soft pedaled it. Then a smile crossed his face. It was time for a lesson to be taught in the ways of the Section to a certain operative. And a lesson outwards to, the Section wasn't getting soft, they were just as hard as always.

"Birkhoff, call up a two man back-up team. I'm calling up a point now. Standard hit. Marseille. 10 hours."

"Will do." Birkhoff looked sideways at Madeline who stood next to him.

"Didn't Michael just come back from there? I thought you said a take down not a hit."

Madeline looked up at the loft as it plunged into darkness. Frowning she replied, "I did. That was Michael's recommendation too. Was there additional intel that came in?" Birkhoff shook his head. Madeline shrugged, "I don't know. Somehow the parameters have changed. Go with what he says."

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The soft ringing of the cell phone sounded loudly in the quiet room. Both Michael and Nikita were instantly awake.

"Phone." Michael said without a hint of grogginess to his voice.

"It's mine." Nikita assured him as she scrambled out of the bed. He watched her as she scurried to the chair near the bench and grabbed her jacket from it. She answered it with a simple "Yes?"

"Josephine." Nikita stiffened as she heard Operations' voice. "You're needed."

"I'm on the way." She hung up and jammed the phone back into the jacket. Grabbing her clothes which she had folded under her jacket, she ducked into the bathroom.

"Who made the call?" Michael was curious as to who had called her in. He was reasonably certain that they didn't know she was here. Birkhoff had told him that she had quietly walked out earlier in the afternoon. He had covered for her, telling them that she had said she needed something for the make over of her new trainee. After shopping, she would probably just go home.

Birkhoff had warned him that she had been out of sorts all day. Not really herself at all. At first he had been concerned but she got like that sometimes. It rarely got as serious now as it had gotten last year. But he still felt uneasy when he knew that kind of mood was hitting her. He was brought out of his thoughts when he realized she had spoken to him.

"What did you say? I wasn't listening."

Nikita leaned down and kissed him quickly. " Operations.... Have you seen it? I can't find it."

"What?" Michael inquired as he sat up.

"My nightgown." "Don't worry about it. I'll find it. Besides, leave it here, ok? You get going."

With a sigh, she looked around one more time. "All right. See you there later?"

He nodded and stretched. "I'll be there. Be careful?"

"Always." She threw back up the stairs at him. He heard the door close and laid back down. Things felt strange but somehow they felt right. Their exchange had been almost like a normal couple. With jobs that were completely outside of normal. He yawned again. He needed some more sleep and maybe with as relaxed as he was at the moment, the nightmares would stay at bay.

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A low fog still clung to the headstones and the grass was slick with a heavy morning dew. The air was still and it felt cool to Nikita's face as she leaned secreted behind a stone marker. Operations' briefing had terse and quick at the same time. Intended target, location, time line, and final determination of status. Cut, dry and to the point. Glancing at her watch, she tightened her focus on a nearby grave site and the stone driveway that lead up to it. It was just about time.

Exactly as the mission prelim had stated, the white Benz crunched up the path and stopped in front of the grave. Slowly the car door opened and

Nikita got a look at the woman inside. "Target confirmed," she said just softly enough for the com unit to pick her up.

"Proceed," Operations barked back in her ear. Nikita's quick shot was followed by the woman crumbling to the ground half in and half out of the car. Standing, Nikita went over and checked on the target.

"Status!" came Operations' harsh tone in her ear again.

Leaning over and placing her fingers on the neck, she felt for a pulse. There was none. One more less bad guy. Yeah for us she thought a little morbidly. To Operations she said shortly, "Target terminat..." Her voice trailed off as she heard a whimper and then saw the white carrier the woman had been pulling out of the car. In it laid a small baby, a little less than a year old. Nikita's knees started to shake and she felt bile rise up in her throat. She pushed back to urge to vomit. Darkness gathered from both sides of her vision.

"Again!" Operations' voice broke through to her.

Struggling to get the words out, she stuttered, "T--t--there's a b--baby h..." She never finished the sentence. The com unit went dead.

Backing up and dropping her rifle, she let loose a howl of rage and pain. He knew, somehow the son of a bitch knew. That was why she was here. He was trying to teach her a lesson. She felt rage, disgust and absolute terror. He knew and it was something to be manipulated. He would go after her child now. What a perfect way to control. Their conversation must have been overheard. The only one who had been there was...Michael.

She turned, no longer fighting the urge to vomit. She dropped to her knees. Her body responded to the shock of what her mind had just absorbed and realized. Staggering as she got to her feet, she was able to gather some fragments of training and make her way to where transportation waited for her. Bastards, was the only thing she could consciously think as she moved across the graveyard.

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Operations pulled off his headpiece with a small smile of satisfaction on his face. Birkhoff looked at him in shock. Raising an eyebrow, Operations faced him, "Do you have a problem, Mr. Birkhoff?"

Swallowing hard, Birkhoff knew his answer meant staying in his seat or going to the white room. He swallowed past the blockage in his throat again and shook his head. Lowering his eyes to the keyboard, he watched as Operations sealed the mission file. He closed his eyes as Operations walked away.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and then touch his cheek. Softly Caroline whispered in his ear. "It's not our place to ask. We do as we're told. To make it to tomorrow. It will work itself out."

Chapter 22

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Taking another long drink of coffee and then rubbing the side of his face, Michael stood and stretched. He shook his head as he watched the progress of the program on the monitor. Sloppy work was one of Michael's pet peeves. Work was supposed to be done neatly and in an organized fashion. If you messed it up, you fixed it. It was as simple as that.

However, the manner in which these files had been maintained, sloppiness was the SOP; that could be the only excuse for it. His pacing brought him over to the map translite where a red haired male operative was updating operative locations.

"Everything still calm, Pat?"

Nodding and adjusting blue, black, green and red dots on the Lucite, Pat replied, "At the moment yes." He started to point to several black dots. "These three are done except for pull out. These two reds are about to go green. The two blue here are now black."

They both glanced over at the monitor Michael had been at earlier as it emitted a musical scale. Pat rolled his eyes. "Birkhoff does like to be creative with his programs. You know I had one yesterday that started to laugh while in wait. I couldn't turn it off. No matter what I did. I was in wait for 45 minutes! I heard it in my sleep last night! I will get him back!"

Michael covered a smirk as he went back to his seat. Birkhoff had originally planted that little programming gem in an inventory program that Walter used. It had infuriated Walter to such a degree that Birkhoff had declared he would snag everyone in the Section with it eventually. With the exception of Operations and Madeline however. Michael had made Birkhoff promise not to use it in anything essential. And not in anything he was in the habit of using. The promise had been made with a smile. He knew that he was fair game anyway.

Sitting down, Michael looked at the screen with a puzzled expression. It held a grey box within which was a white box. Above the white box in black letters were the words 'pass code'. Now this is interesting. He grabbed his mug for another swallow.

"Later, Michael." Pat quipped as he exit the room. Michael raised his mug in response as he started to type in words with his free hand. He tried about 5 without any luck. He leaned back in the chair, teepeeing his fingers to the chin and staring intently at the flickering screen.

"There's a trick here. I just have to figure it out. This thing is the result of pulling file fragments together from Martina's computer logs. All these frags must have been deliberate. A means to hide something. Most people dump them, not read them. But to code them when they make a whole. This is different. What were you trying to keep safe, Martina? Better yet, what would be the word you would use as the key to unlock this?"

Frowning, he began to type in words that he thought might have some meaning to Martina. He worked steadily for about 20 minutes before he leaned back with a exhale of frustration. His last idea to try Nikita's name had even failed. What else was there? He keyed in his own name half heartedly and hit enter. The box disappeared and an image of a disk appeared. It spun as words began to fly out of it and land in a pile on the bottom of the screen. It stopped and flickered out of existence. The words began to arrange themselves on the screen. Michael sat forward, once again staring intently at the monitor.

Michael; you are good aren't you? I knew your neat streak would get to you if you saw so many file fragments. Just had to clean things up. No wonder you drive Kita nuts. The Odd Couple revisited. But seriously, I knew I can count on you to keep what I'm about to reveal to you a secret. In some shape or form, I know it will save the both of you. Or at least insure that you two can be together. Something is going down, not only here but within the Agency as well. Some of the decisions that they have made in the past are coming back, shall we say, to bite them in the ass. Those who they felt would be a help are now showing themselves to be dangerous enemies. They have the ability to affect not only our short term operations but also those we have worked for years on cultivating.

I'm sure you've heard of the existence of a directory beyond the one you have in your possession (Don't deny it either. I know you have it. The only question is where did you hide it. If Nikita doesn't know tell her. These kind of things help us to keep those we love alive or even ourselves. Whether you want to believe that or not.) The one I am very concerned with at the moment is the directory that lists all of our long term deep cover operatives. Some of whom I'm sure even Operations and George have forgotten about.

For the past 20 years, its been my responsibility to maintain it. Keep it updated and safe. There have been several attempts lately to access the data. Kaspin has made some of them. Others have been from outside sources. These may be coming from the Brigade or even Red Cell. I haven't been able to uncover the truth yet. I am entrusted with its care though and I no longer feel it is safe here. What I did with it, I realize it unorthodox but in these times....

Though Nikita has not made known to me her decision, I know she will be coming back to you. She loves you and I hope someday you can return that same love to her. There is a place each of you has inside that draws the other. It's special. Protect it. And please forgive me for what I've done Michael. It was not to endanger her or you but to make you safe.

Nikita has the directory. She doesn't know it. It's in a chip which is in the charm I gave her. If you smack it with something blunt in the center it will cause the vale to pop out and then the chip can be removed. I guess I arbitrarily made the decision who the new custodian was to be. Eventually she'll need to know it, Michael. And in the future the information on it, will be crucial to the positions you two are being groomed to fill.

I'm closing this with a unhappy heart. Nikita is coming to talk to me. I know what will happen then. She's been a God send here. She's so much what I dreamed my own daughter might have been....enough of that. No tears here. I am also in full realization that if you are seeing my words, I am no longer. Stay well, Michael. Love her and protect her. That's all she wants from you and all she wants to do for you, too. Martina"

Michael stood up, running both hands through his hair. His eyes were wide, filled not only with disbelief but with worry. Jesu, Michel! C'est trop! Martina, what have we done? Mon Dieu, she has both directories on her. Why did I put it in the rings? Why? What the hell am I going to do now? I can't tell her. Nikita, you're a walking death sentence for all of us. With a groan, he threw himself into the chair and leaned his head back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

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With eyes and face completely void of expression, Nikita made her way back to Section One with the back up team. They had kept their distance from her after seeing her expression as she entered the van. Her demeanor was only a front. Beneath the surface, an ugly storm raged. She wanted to hit, hurt, confront and retaliate. Anything she could do to get rid of the ferocity that burned her heart and was starting to eat into her soul.

Nikita felt bruised, battered, betrayed and violated. Coming from Operations, this whole thing could be understood. But to have Michael involved, it just ripped her in two. Not 18 hours ago, he was saying that he loved her. He had been making love to her. She had looked to him for love, comfort and a balm for the pain inside. Now that pain had been increased tenfold. She wanted to scream out loud because it hurt so bad but this was not the place. Later as they probably cancelled her for what she had planned to do to Operations. Michael can suffer as they cancel me. Though the black hearted coward more than likely won't even feel a thing.

The jerking halt of the vehicle told her they were back at the Section. As she stood, she patted her jacket pocket. There as it should be. Her back up team quickly exited and hurried up the ramp. Nikita followed, her expression darkening as she got closer to the egress exit. Stepping into the hallway, she looked to the left. No one was there. Sensing his presence as he entered the corridor, she turned to the right pulling her weapon at the same time.

Operations had been ready for a confrontation with Nikita. He had prepared himself for the verbal assault as well as a physical one. He knew her rage would be formidable. He charged her before she could finish aiming and sent her gun flying down the hall. They grapple for the upper hand. As they struggled neither took notice of the audience from above.

Madeline watched from the catwalk. She was disturbed by the situation unraveling below her but to interfere would cause problems with both of them and possibly with Michael too. Best to observe and absorb from afar.

None of them noticed Darcie crouched in the shadows on a catwalk further up. She hid in the shadows. As she watched the scene unfold, her respect for Nikita grew. The guts it took to physically go after Operations was more than she had given Nikita credit for having. She could also see that he was just barely holding his own against the enraged woman. Darcie knew that if Nikita had been fighting without anger, Operations would have already been down and more than likely dead or dying.

With a thud, Operations slammed Nikita into the wall, holding her there by the throat with both his hands. He smiled coldly and thinly at her. She gripped his wrists with both her own hands. He didn't squeeze too tightly. He wanted to hear what she had to say. She kicked at his legs and went for his crotch with her knee. But stopped as the pressure around her throat cut off all oxygen. As she backed off, he eased the pressure.

She spit in his face, hissing , "You son of a bitch! You're not fucking human! You don't care or feel about anything!"

With eyes glittering in victory, Operations smirked at her. "It was beat out of me a long time ago. Now it's your turn."

"No I won't let you do to me what you've done to Michael."

"Michael did it to himself. What little there was left of feelings was dying before you got to him."

"He's your prefect little pet. The servant to your master. You're all disgusting and despicable. You made him what he is. Just as heartless and ruthless as you are. How long before he told you? As soon as he walked out of the room or did he type up a report for you so you had it in black and white. News flash! New intel!!"

Operations chuckled and shook his head. "Quite the little conspiracy maker, aren't you? Tell me Nikita, Didn't you feel the least little bit jealous, my dear?" Why should she get to be with her child when you can't be with yours?

Madeline blinked in surprise at that statement. Nikita had a child? When? And who was the father? Could that had been why Michael had made sure she went free after the decision to cancel her had been made? Had they been more involved than she had thought? But there had been no secret excursions or anything like that. No mention of a child when Michael had been thought dead. No, this was a secret from her past. One she had been most effective in keeping from them until now. How had Operations gotten the information though?

Almost growling, Nikita retorted, "I should have killed you 5 months ago."

"And where would you be right now? What about him?"

Nikita's face was a mask of disgust. Sneering at him, she threw her words at him, almost biting each word in half as she said them. "Out of here away from you and this thing, this hell you've made. Where do you come up with these things? Nothing could make a person as black hearted as you are. Not even your past..."

"Don't go where souls fear to be. You'll regret it. More than anything else in your life. You want to survive, do things my way. Want the arrangement to be continued? Same way as survival, do things my way. Keep in mind that I can make things worse."

Letting go of one of his wrists, she tried to slap at his face. "Bastard, you don't..."

Operations suddenly let go and moved backwards. Nikita staggered forwards but was shoved violently to the floor. She sprawled on her back, holding her throat.

"I'm got another little tidbit for you, Nikita. Remember that anything can be made to be something else. Records are easy to change, manipulated to tell what I want them to tell. Could he handle losing another one? Even if he isn't the one, he might think he is. Whose truth would prevail, yours or mine?" He spun on his heel and walked away.

Nikita glared at his retreating back as she got up. "Don't forget about Stephen!" She shouted after him. "I know who he is! I know where he is! I can arrange a father-son reunion!" He didn't stop at her comments even though she knew he heard them. She pulled herself up off the floor. Her anger wasn't spent yet. There was still Michael to deal with.

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Birkhoff looked sideways at the arms that slapped down on either side of him. "Where is he?" he heard Nikita rasp in his ear.

"Operations was waiting in egress for you."

"We met. I mean Michael."

"In Strategics."

"Muffle it!"

Birkhoff tried to turn but she refused to budge. "I can't do th..."

"Do it now or I'll knock you flat so fast you won't even blink."

Trying to swallow with a suddenly dry throat, he did as she requested. He relaxed only after she stalked away. The roller coaster ride they were strapped into was about to get wild.

Michael was pacing Strategics like a caged animal. His attention was so focused inwards that he didn't hear the door open or it swoosh close behind Nikita. He turned as he sensed the figure behind him only to be rocked by a hard left from Nikita. He wobbled back slightly but didn't fall.

"What the hell was that for?" He asked her in amazement as he wiped a little trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He was astonished at the fierce anger that burned in her eyes and came off of her in waves.

"If you ever touch me again or come anywhere near me, you will live to regret every second of the rest of your life!" She paused and then screamed at him, "It wasn't yours to tell! You had no right!"

He looked at her in complete bewilderment. "What are you talking about?" He reached out to touch her head. "Did you get kicked in the head or some..."

Her arm lashed out and caught him in the palm, keeping his hand from touching her. He pulled back as she continued to rale at him. "You lied to me. You've used me for the last time, Michael. I think I've learned the lesson this time. God damn loud and clear. Give me a gold star and a 100%!"

She bolted from the room leaving Michael in stunned silence. He stared after her, feeling confused and for some insane reason angry. What did I do now? I haven't talked to anybody about anything! Operation passed by with his hands in his pockets. He had an air of confidence about him. In fact, he seemed almost jaunty. He started out after him but felt his arm grabbed from behind. He looked over his shoulder to see Darcie. She looked worried and scared at the same time.

"Darcie, right?" She nodded. He remembered when she came in hotheaded and angry like Nikita. That was why he had suggested Nikita as her mentor. They would be able to relate to each other. "I need to attend to something. It's very important. Can we talk later?"

"If you're going after Nikita. You better listen to me."

Focusing his attention on her, he queried, " What about Nikita?"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "She and Operations just had a huge fight in the place where everybody comes back from missions. He almost strangled her. She had her gun out to fire at him. He threatened her and you. And he mentioned something about a child. It sounded like a child you and Nikita shared."

Michael felt like he had been punched in the stomach and the jaw at the same time. "Darcie, are you sure that's what you heard? Nikita and I don't have a child. Did he mention the name, Simone at all ?"

Darcie shook her head. "He said something about her being jealous over this woman being with her child when Nikita couldn't be with hers. Then he asked her how 'he would handle losing another one?'. She was wild, Michael. I thought she was going to kill him!"

Michael's head was spinning. There was no control at all. Was a child the real reason she went to Israel? Time wise it's impossible. Or is it? If she had been and then decided to avoid the situation...He gripped both of Darcie's shoulders. She squirmed in his tight grasp.

"Did anyone else see you? Could they have seen you?"

"No, neither Operations, Nikita or Madeline saw me. I was on a catwalk in the shadows above them."

"Madeline?! She was involved too?"

"No, they didn't know either of us was there. Madeline was watching from the catwalk below me."

He let go and ran his hand over his face. Darcie was shocked to see the lack of control in the man in front of her. He looked skywards. "What is going on around here?!" He looked at Darcie with such intensity, she thought he was going to burn a hole in her. "Tell no one. And I mean no one. Your life as well as mine and Nikita's depends on it. Do you understand the seriousness of what I'm telling you?" Silently Darcie nodded. "Good. Keep your ears open." He started away from her but stopped and addressed her one more time. "You did the right thing by stopping and telling me. Your concern for the well being of not only the Section but for one of your team members is appreciated. Thank you." And with that, he rapidly walked away.

Darcie smiled in spite of herself. For some weird reason, she couldn't comprehend why she had wanted to help Nikita. She sensed that she and Nikita were a lot alike. Darcie knew what it was like to have everything taken away from you. And to see that Nikita had survived it gave her some measure of hope. Maybe Nikita wasn't that bad. This was a snap judgement on Darcie's part. Something she never did. This time was ok though. It would be worth it, she knew that.

Chapter 23

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Confidently L' Araigne turned the handle on the door that lead from the deck into the alcove at Michael's cabin. He walked to the front door and examined the alarm panel. According to its readout it was still operating. He knew better though. He knew his job and he knew his equipment. He went back into the living room and looked around. My dark angel, mon cher Michel, you are still one of simple tastes n'est pas? He glanced over the music stacked neatly in a holder. Eclectic tastes. Very moody though. Much still lurks beneath the surface, doesn't it. Does you still hide your secrets in your room, Michel?

He climbed the stairs and looked around. Just a neat as downstairs. Neatness..a need to control. He opened the armoire and took in all the dark colors. That had not changed in the past 14 years. Michel still favored the dark. Though there were many things that had changed. The differences in names was only the beginning. Michel had become Michael. He had matured and grown stronger than Philippe had thought he would have been able to. He commanded authority and respectively received it. He was held in high esteem by others within the Agency. Not only for his abilities but for his accomplishments. His future within was greatly toted.

Physically he had surpassed the promise he had shown as a teenager. Michael was now a skilled machine. For years L' Araigne had heard stories of the young man who would gradually become known as a machine. The marriage and child had softened him. Ending the marriage had been easy. Just a few well placed tips and hints... Regardless of how Michael had seen it as his fault, the scenario had already been set. Michael's decisions at the time had only helped. He wished he had been able to take credit for the child but that was not possible. But he did wonder if there were not ties to it from others.

The result had been as he had hoped though. The cold emotionless man that he had worked so hard to create came to be. A smile spread across his face as he remembered some of the stories he had heard or reports he had seen. Perfection in this world was hard to come by. Through planning it had come to be. So Chancier how does it feel to see the hell I have invoke on your son's head? Frankly, I'm enjoying it. He is amusing to torment. Keeps it inside till it explodes. Makes for a great show.

L' Araigne's pacing had brought him to the back part of the loft. He looked through some of the canvases and then the sketches. "Pah! What are these? Is this how all my hard work is repaid? All my lessons and the hours of training? Or are you trying to make yourself something you are not? Something that I made you give up? Art is for someone with emotions and feelings, Michel. I crushed them out in you only to watch them return time and again. It looks like they have done it again. They are a weakness and keep you from performing properly. You know that as well as I do. We need to review some lessons I think. Yes there is much we need to review." He snatched a half finished sketch from the back of the bench. It was a woman with long hair, seen from the back. It was incomplete but L' Araigne knew who it was. "Is this her, Michael? The beautiful and vivant Nikita. She is stunning that I will admit. But it was not the beauty that attracted you, my dark angel was it? It is her light. It is her soul that attracts and holds you. She makes you feel. Makes you think you have a soul. Do not be fooled by that illusion my precious boy. Because that is all it is. An illusion. If her light is extinguished or hidden from your sight, would you still exist? I think not." He crumbled the sketch in his hand and tossed it to the floor.

L' Araigne walked to the bed, swept his gaze across it and looked out to the lake. "Have you said you love her yet, Michael? I hope not. You know what happens then don't you? Love only kills the object loved. Or is that another lesson that must be relearned? Of everything I taught you I had hoped that it would be the one to last forever. One slip can be understood. I fixed that. But two, that can not be forgiven or forgotten. We will need to talk a long while. Yes a long while.

"Somehow parts of your soul and heart survived our time together. Obviously I was careless. Not as thorough as I thought. Nevertheless we can fix that. What would rock your world more than anything else? Nikita's death? You'd crash too fast. Merle still alive? Would take too long to properly plan. Hmmm... Oh, now here is an idea. How would you react if I was your father? Oh now this could become a delicious amusement...oh yes...."

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Madeline sat contemplating her blank wall behind her desk. Life at Section One had always been complicated but now it was as if it was getting more bizarre behind her back. Almost so quickly that she was watching it from behind instead of seeing it coming. The power shifts she had been carefully observing were askew. She had been looking at them from the wrong perspective. Perhaps it had been from a sense of competition or even jealousy.

For a long time, Madeline had thought Operations had allowed the leeway he gave Michael with Nikita had been a sort of reward for his work. As far fetched and out of character it had seemed for Operations, that was how Madeline had begun to make herself see it. To an outsider, the command team had little faith in Nikita's abilities as an operative. Michael had pushed her like he had pushed no other. Madeline knew it had started to show them he had been right in choosing her file. Then something had changed in him after meeting her and training her. Their bond had grown from that. The emotions and feelings had come naturally. Fighting it had become no use, even Operations had eventually admitted the futility of that.

And then there was Oscar's reaction to Nikita. Operations had demanded much more of her as a beginning operative than others. He had allowed Michael to use Nikita in a number of missions where a more experienced operative should have gone. He had berated Michael for many of those decisions but never changed them. His team had always been the one with the best as well as the most experienced. And then he had introduced this beginner to it.

She had fit though. As if that was where she was suppose to be. The trust he had developed rapidly in her spread throughout the team just as quickly. They worked with her just as the work with him. Splitting into two smaller teams they could accomplish independently where a larger group would have been needed.

Then there had been a change. Midway through her first year, Madeline noticed the intensity of Operations' demands on her and Michael became that much greater. It was almost like a physical shove sometimes. Not only did Operations question her work to Michael and Madeline but even to Nikita herself. She had stood up to him too. Though at times pushed by Michael. Never showing the fear she must have harboured of him. Just as all operatives did with possible exception of Michael. This had created a problem within itself though. Michael's need to protect her became stronger with greater pressure from Operations. The incomplete trust he had in the man became more fragmented, more unsure. Then Operations had ordered her cancellation with Michael carrying it out.

The world had crumbled beneath Michael's feet. Madeline had not expected him to fallen apart so quickly. Simone and the baby had been a downward spiral. Nikita was a drop off a cliff. Ruefully she admitted it was probably a combination of everything that he had experienced to that point. Perhaps it was, as the cliche went, the straw that broke the camel's back. Making a decision that probably had strained his relationship with the Section to the breaking point, he had made sure she would survive. Though he refused even now to admit to it, Madeline knew he had made sure she had 6 months of freedom.

But those 6 months had been hard for her too. The bond between the two was too strong. She recalled the mission tapes from Lyons. Michael should have been killed there. It was the worst performance she had ever seen from him. Someone covered his back and made sure he stayed alive. When he had arrived back, his own being was transformed. The old Michael was resurfacing.

Finally he had brought her back to Section One but also back to Operations' scrutiny. And that was when Madeline started to not be able to deny it to herself anymore. For years she had accepted the 'fact' that one day Michael would be in the loft as Operations. Even though she knew it was not the optimal place for him. Operations' position whether or not Oscar cared to admit it or not, required emotion. It was the power that fueled the work and helped to make the necessary decisions. As for who would fill her role, she had been unsure till Nikita's arrival. The potential was there. But Nikita had too much life in her. It didn't fit comfortably.

"But you didn't quite fit in there, did you? Too much heart. Too many feelings. Things you refuse to give up. Things I gave up too but without a fight. Because it was easier than dealing with them. Michael can shut off just like I do. That's how I do my job. Operations appears that way but his intensity and strength comes from his emotions. He just channels them in a different direction. Damn, isn't this just wonderful. He wants to make you a carbon copy of himself, Nikita. He's got this idea of you as him. That's why you two clash so violently. You are both cut from the same cloth. And the only way you can see it is from this side. The question is how is this going to affect the relationship you have with Michael. It drove Oscar away from me. Are you and Michael strong enough to keep history from repeating itself?"

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

The wind blew through every window that would open. It was cold but it felt good. Maybe it would cool some of the anger. Maybe a few flickers of the flames inside would be blown out. The candle in front of her spurted wildly in the air. It kept threatening to wink out but somehow managed to stay lit. It reminded her of her own existence. Maybe it was time for the light to go out. There wasn't anything there to shed on light anymore anyway. Her world was bleak and barren now. Dark like the sky outside as the sun was starting to set.

Rubbing the back of her neck again, she tried to ease the tight muscles that were becoming quite at home there. She stood, undecided as to direction, so she stood still. The frequent headaches were starting to bother her. Maybe she had better talk to Christine about them. While rubbing, her fingers snagged the metal of the chain around her neck. In a fit of annoyance, she yanked the front of it with her other hand, snapping the chain. She smacked it down on the coffee table. She scowled at it. "I guess you were wrong, Martina. He really is the bastard I first thought he was."

She threw herself against the back of the couch again, her feet propped against the edge of the table. Briefly she thought of getting up and turning on the stereo as loud as she could. Then decided she didn't have the energy to get up. How could you have done this, Michael? Why? Her hands balled up into fists as her jaw clenched in anger. Then her inner voice spoke up, If he overheard about the baby, he overheard about Christine's real identity. Where's the fallout from that? Making a sound of disgust at that she said out loud, "Her brother, let her deal with it. Not my problem."

She had expected a knock at the door at any time. Not the loud bang the door made as it hit the wall and bounced shut behind him. She started at the noise but that was it. She ignored his entrance. Instead she kept her gaze on the candle's flame. His eyes were glued to her. Slowly he approached the couch and sat down next to her. As she saw the flame flick out, she stood and started towards the front door. She didn't have to stay in the same room with him.

Her exit was brought up short by the steel like grip on her shoulder. His fingers dug in and she could feel the emotion quivering them.

"Don't walk away from me." His voice shook with the same emotion that was in his fingers. She tried to push off his hand but couldn't. Then she tried to pull away. That worked as well as trying to push his hand off. He spun her, releasing her shoulder. Her hands came up fisted but he grabbed them. They stood like that. Eyes locked in silence.

Michael was the first to broke the long stretch of loud quiet. "I want the whole story and I want it now!" His voice was low and measured.

"You heard it all already when I was arguing with Christine. Why rehash it now? Did you and Operations get a good laugh over it?" She pulled her arms but he refused to let go.

"I didn't hear anything from the argument you had with Christine. I heard nothing from Operations. Everything I've heard has been from you or from Darcie."

"Darcie?!"

"She saw what happened with you and Operations. She heard most of what you said to each other. I want an explanation Nikita, because you really don't want to know what is going through my head at the moment. Because so help me..."

"Get out, Michael."

"Talk to me."

"Get out."

"No. I have a right to know."

"You've no right to anything here. Leave now!"

"I have every right. So it's not a written declaration but we got a commitment here. One I'm not willing to let go without knowing what the whole story is."

"It's not any of your affair. It doesn't concern you."

"It concerns you. I care about you. Damn it Nikita. I've risked too much too many times to toss it out now. I want to know."

"No."

Next thing she knew, he was grabbing both her upper arms and she was nose to nose with him. For the first time in a while, she was terrified to be this close to him. He looked ready to hit her. Let him try. She pushed it again.

"Beating me isn't going to get me to tell you."

"What about begging? What about getting on my knees? What about starting to cry right in front of you?"

His words sunk in a little. For the first time, since he had come in, she really looked at him. She saw the anguish in his eyes and the worry etched around his eyes. The deep circles of weariness under his eyes. The way his face was drawn and almost pale. There was no deception in those eyes. Only the need to know. Because he really didn't know. Her bravado left her and her head slumped forward. Slowly the words came out.

"I was 17 when I had her. Her father was the foster parent I was living with at the time. We got drunk. Maybe more accurately I got drunk the first time. There were a couple of other times. I needed to feel like someone cared. I thought he did. As usual I was wrong. And I was pregnant. Litta helped me til the baby was born. Then I was out again and so was he." She stopped taking a deep breath. Wrapped in memories, her head still hung down.

"What happened was wrong. He had no right to do that to you. Courts call that rape. I do, too. Why didn't you tell someone?"

She looked up at him. Her eyes looked dead as she started to speak. "Because I didn't. Because I thought somebody felt something other than disgust, pity and contempt for me. I finally thought somebody cared about me."

Michael let go of her arms as she turned to walk from the table to the kitchenette. "What happened to her, Nikita?"

As Nikita picked up the story again, she ran her finger in slow random circles on the counter top.

"There was a couple who Litta knew. They'd been trying for a long time. Nothing was working. I figured if they had been trying for so long, they would make good parents. I knew I couldn't be. After she was born I held her for about 10 minutes before they took her away to the nursery. I remember waking up and going to look for her. To make sure she understood why I was doing what I was doing. To make sure I was doing the right thing. They were there ahead of me. Her "momma" was already rocking her and they looked like a family. There was no place for me once again. I was unwanted, forgotten. Just a means to an end. Just as I've always been."

Michael slipped a hand up the side of her head to the back so he could pull her into an embrace She pushed the hand away and moved backwards not wanting to be touched.

"So I did the patent Nikita thing. I ran. Just like I did when we started this and I knew that once again, I couldn't have the real thing. Just like I did when I got you back from Elouette. And it's what I want to do right now. To get away from these memories and feelings for things I can't have. Because my life won't let me. Because I didn't make the right decisions."

"You made the right decision at the time. Maybe it doesn't seem like that now. Together we can make it right now if you want. Let me help you."

Anger flared hotly at what he said. He was part of the problem. How could he be the solution too? He faced her fury though without backing down or away from her. Her voice trembled with the violence of the feeling that was beginning to spill from inside. For too long she had held too much in. Resentment had grown from fertile ground. It was now time to harvest the fruit. Things she never meant for him to hear came tumbling out.

"You can't help! You don't have the guts Michael! Do you have any idea why he pulled me from your bed last night? To teach me a lesson! That woman you spent the past few days watching? I took her out while she was visiting her husband's grave with their child. I got his point real easy. That could be me. Then the bastard has the audacity to ask me if I was jealous of her! Then he laid out his threats against you and my child!"

Michael's head was reeling. Martina had said that the directories would be important. They would be; enough to protect all three of them, he hoped. He had to find the child first to get her somewhere safe. He had to get Nikita to listen to him though.

"I can fix this. Trust in me! I can protect all of us. There is a way."

"Bullshit! Don't lie to me! You couldn't protect your own! How the hell do you think you'll protect mine?" He closed his eyes as her words struck him.

It hurt but it was also true. Back then he couldn't. Now he had the means. He tried to keep the anger her viciousness was creating from being directed at her. This was all Operations' fault. She was just venting. But he was just so tired of being everybody's punching bag. One could only hide the hurt and bruises for so long. Her words and anger had a physical power that could hurt like a slap in the face.

"You're just their lackey, Michael. You let them lead you around by the nose every step of the way. Whether it's up or down. You never fight..."

"I've fought for you ever since I first saw you. Something in you reached out to me the first time I looked into your eyes. I saw someone who might be able to understand what I was. What I want to be someday." He grabbed her and pulled her towards him even though she stiffened and tried to push him away. "I've protected you against everything, even yourself. You're here because of me! Because of what you made me feel for you!"

"Yes, I'm here because of you. Because of you. If it wasn't for Michael, the hero, I'd be dead. I'd be free of all this wonderfulness!" She sagged for a instant before her eyes snapped up to his again. "You're the most valuable thing.. Yes that's right, THING they've got because you'll do their bidding. Run this, ask Michael. Do this, ask Michael. Kill or stifle that, ask Michael. He'll do anything. You're the freaking Life cereal kid. All grown up!"

"Stop this Nikita. Stop using me as a punching bag. Just because you're hurting like hell, there no reason to lash out at me and make me feel like you do. I can do it well enough on my own. I don't need your help! Do you hear me? Do you understand me? BACK OFF! I don't know where this is all coming from but I'm sick of it!"

"You're sick of this! I'm sick of this whole damn thing! All of it! Of what I've done, of what I've witnessed, of what I've been a part of! And all because of you! The first person I killed was to save your life. I've become this because it was what you wanted! But then I'm not as perfect as you are. Operations constantly makes that obvious to me. You're the be all and ..."

"This is because you resent the way Operations treats me?"

"NO! I resent the fact that as always I am a means to an end. Without regards for what it will cost. The only reason they let me get you back after that mission in Prague was to get Petrosian and you out of that place! The only reason he let me go for you 5 months ago was because I was the only one stupid enough to want to go and get their trained pet back for them again! Tell me the truth. If it was reversed, if it was me, would he let you come for me? "

Michael looked away. He was unsure of the answer and he knew the repercussions of giving that answer would be bad. He'd had enough. If he didn't walk away now their relationship would be torn to pieces they'd never put back together. Best to walk now. Go home and get Birkhoff to start some research for me. Find the girl and get her somewhere safe. Then maybe Nikita would believe me and let this resentment go. He brushed past her and opened the door.

"That's right Michael! Walk away as you always do! Better to leave it laying there than confront the truth! It might mean more than the Section to you!"

His only answer was to slam the door behind him with all the strength he could. She hear the wooden panel in the middle spilt and saw the pictures that hung by the door fall to the floor. Glass shattered as it hit the floor. The silence that followed was only broken by the sound of Nikita's heavy breathing. That and the whistle of the wind through the still open windows.

For several minutes, Michael sat in his car, stone faced, regaining control over his emotions. His eyes stared out at nothing, showing nothing. Without taking his gaze from the spot of nothing he focused on, he picked up the car phone. "Birkhoff."

"Yeah Michael"

"Run down the location 10 years ago of Litta...." He pause trying to remember the name from Nikita's file. "Litta Diane Foller. Once you've got that, I want birth records of any hospital or clinic within a 50 mile radius. I'm looking for a girl born on the sixth of May."

"Foller's the mother?"

"No the mother was a 17 year old. Litta may have signed as guardian." He paused again trying to remember the husband's name. And as he did he felt a stab of anger for what Nikita had been through alone. "The husband's name may also appear as the father. His name was Taylor Foller. I want any other names associated with that birth record and their current whereabouts. Including the child."

"Sounds like a unpleasant situation."

"That's still hurting people today. What you find, Birkhoff, is for my eyes only. Nothing you find gets repeated or shown to anyone else. The life of the child and the mother depend on this. I'm leaving their care in your hands at the moment."

"I understand."

"And one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Get it for me quickly. I don't think I have much time." He didn't wait for Birkhoff's answer. He hung up and finally looked from the spot in front of him to the building where Nikita's apartment laid.

"I may not have been about to protect my son, Nikita. I will suffer the pain of that until my bones rot away in hell. But maybe I can show I haven't failed completely by protecting yours."

Chapter 24

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Feeling drained of all emotion and all her tears, Nikita sunk down to the stairs that lead to her bedroom. She had poured all her hurt, pain, anger and resentment out on the one person who she hadn't wanted to hurt. But damn you, Michael! You push me and it makes me want to lash out at you. You fix those eyes on me and I either explode or melt. Your lack of emotion makes mine that much more. As if I 'm trying to compensate for you. They're coming out more just as I'm trying to keep mine inside.

Exhaust was pounding on the back of her eyelids too, matching the headache that now fully blossomed. She blinked, realizing she hadn't sleep in over 24 hours. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to keep them from slamming shut. Then she stifled a yawn that shook her body. Gathering herself she stood up and slowly climbed the two steps up to her room. Maybe a short nap. I need to finish .. She didn't even complete the thought before her head hit the pillow.

______________________________ _________________________________

The cabin seemed strangely empty. He was getting too quickly accustomed to her being there. She fit here, in his home and in his life. It was a dangerous way to become. They couldn't get used to being here together. To act as if their lives were normal. To act as if they were just a regular couple in love. It wasn't possible. It had happened too fast. And they had both fallen too hard as evidenced by the way they constantly fought. He didn't remember ever arguing this way with Simone.

He dropped down into his chair, not bothering to turn on the light to chase the thickening darkness. He preferred it this way. Dark and quiet, right?

Perfect place to think. I like being alone.

In frustration he pushed some hair out of his face and leaned his head back against the back of the chair. As always it felt comfortable sinking down into this chair. It fit him.

Just like Nikita does. Like being alone, huh? Yeah right! And hell just froze over too. With a sigh he closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the cabin around him. It still felt empty. And he felt tired.

Feeling around on the table next to his chair, he found a remote and flipped on the stereo. Slow heavy blues dripped from the speakers. It fit his mood exactly. The notes wrapped around him. He couldn't sleep though. Opening his eyes, he stared into the darkness, trying to figure out just what he was suppose to do with the mess his life was.

Michael had to decide how to tell Nikita about the directories. Like an idiot he had allowed her to goad him into almost losing his temper. Then he'd gone and walked out on her. That had not exactly been the most intelligent resolution to the argument either. Her last few sentences had blind sided him. Her comments about Merle had cut into him deeply. They'd been too damn close to his own regrets. Her perception of her role at Section One was juxtaposed to what it really was. He hadn't realized she saw things that way.

She wasn't a means to an end. She was a very intrinsic part of not only how the Section operated but how its future was to be shaped. Michael had seen the indications. For a long time they had pointed in his direction. He had thought he would be the next Operations. He had not relished the thought. It would not be where he would have placed himself. He was more like Madeline and he felt he was more suited to her role.

He smirked and shook his head at his thoughts. It was crazy to think it but Operations had begun last year to treat Nikita just as he had at one time treated Michael. That was when Michael had begun to speculate that Operations' plans for the future had changed. Now Michael had endangered not only her future but the Section's too. But it wasn't entirely his fault either. Martina had a hand in it too, albeit inadvertently.

Compressing his lips in a thin line, he cursed himself for allowing her to continue wearing the ring. Even though 5 months ago, those very rings had stopped him from killing her. He pushed those memories away. They were still too painful to rehash at the moment. She had continued to wear hers, wearing it as a reminder she said of what she owed him. He dug down into his pants pocket and pulled out the matching ring. He perused it, turning it over in his fingers as he held it up to catch some light from the window.

He slipped it onto his finger. Remembering the way it felt to wear one and what it meant to him. He and Simone had only worn theirs for a short time. Wedding banns in the Section were dangerous on a mission. They gave away silent clues. Clues that lead to ways to control you. He traced the shape of the ring around his finger. His thoughts wandered from the symbolism of the ring to what it meant at the moment.

By having had a microchip embedded into each ring Michael had made the ring an insurance policy that for Nikita had become a possible death sentence. Just as Martina had done with the charm. He, however, had never intended her to wear the ring for any length of time. He had kept them as a reminder of when he had started to realize that there was more than a work related rapport between them. When she had started to pull the pieces of himself back together for him.

The whole time he had the directory hidden at Section One had been one of constantly finding a new place to keep it. He had never felt comfortable having it at home. Then the system had been cracked and it was out in the open. He knew he had to get it out of there. The idea to hide a copy in each ring had been an inspired one at the time. Yeah inspired by Fate or something just as devious.

For some reason he could not decipher, he had not been nervous with her being in Israel with the ring. Even though he could not directly protect her as he did here, he knew that Martina would. Her first reports on Nikita had indicated a quick bonding between the two. Almost mother and daughter like in some aspects. He had been encouraged by that because of what he knew about Nikita's past. Everyone needed a mother or a mother figure. And Martina was a great mother figure. She had certainly been for him the short time he had spent with her while she was at Section One for a short time about 10 years ago.

Martina's death, even though Nikita had not talked much about it , certainly was fueling the raw emotion Nikita had been expressing lately. That and the bombshell he had found out about. Her intense almost frantic need to protect a child finally made sense to him. He repeatedly had smothered it out of himself but could not completely beat it down. She made no attempt to hide it.

Michael could more than empathized with her pain. Losing Merle had nearly killed him. He tried to eliminate all contact with children after that. He swallowed hard. Memories of his son provoked the onset of tears in his unguarded moments. He fought them back. An image of a cage popped into his head. He remembered sensing Nikita's reaction to the mention of Merle by the Red Cell leader who had tortured them during the "war" as Operations called it. The way she had seemed to move to the other wall of the cage and away from him. It hadn't been one anger at not knowing but one of fear at someone finding out her secret. Or did she see it as a shame?

He shook his head. He had to stop going off on these tangents. Where was his focus? On her where it seemed to be more and more lately. For over two years he had fought against the feelings he was developing for her. It had been useless though. As much as he told himself over and over again that he couldn't allow her to become his weakness, he had. But as Madeline had pointed out to him she had also become one of his strengths. She kept him from giving up. Nikita had given him back his heart and some of his soul by giving her own to him. He owed her everything for that.

Frowning he could only come to one conclusion about the ring and charm. He knew this would be the only way. He would have to take them away. She would pitch a fit about the necklace but would get over it. The ring would be a fight. It meant a tremendous amount to her. Not that it didn't mean anything to him. He wished that the ring she wore was for the real reason. That the commitment it symbolized was consecrated. That right now she was sleeping upstairs while their child slept in the small room off the kitchen. That they were a regular couple and not trapped in the hell they were.

With a growl he stood up, suddenly tense and restless. That admission was hard to deal with. Simone still held a special place but now his world had become Nikita. There was nothing he could do about it. As Operations always said, once a profile had been put in motion...

"Yes, Michael what about that? What about the profile you've started? You're playing a very dangerous game with her life. She's the most lethal person in the Agency at the moment. And at the same time the most important. She's got to know now. No more keeping it a secret." He started towards the door when his cell phone went off.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he grabbed it. "Yes?" he barked into it.

"Michael, I've got the stuff you wanted. Nikita has a little girl? Does she know what you're up to? How in the world did you find out about this?" He could hear the slight hint of disbelief in Birkhoff's voice. This was a part of herself that Nikita had let no one know about. Yes shame and regret had made her bury it. Fate however had decided that it was time for the secret to be revealed.

"No, not until I have all of what I need. Encode it and send it here."

"Alright. Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I've made promises." He hung up abruptly. Necessary because he loved her and owed it to her and to Merle. The problem with the directories could rest for the moment. She wasn't going anywhere. But the threat Operations made had to be neutralized. He snapped on the monitor and sat down at the desk.

Michael knew he would need to call in some favors for this. He hope she would understand what he was about to do. Nikita's fate was going in more ways than one stretch to her daughter. That fate though might be the only way to keep the girl safe.

_________________________________ __________________________________

Hitting the floor woke Nikita up and her eyes snapped open taking in the whole room around her. The apartment was empty and silent except for the sheers flapping against the French doors in the breeze. The air was chilly and to match it, she felt cold inside. On wobbly legs, Nikita pulled herself up from her knees to lean against the railing. Her hands gripped the metal so tightly that not only were her knuckles white but streaks of colorlessness ran up her hands as well. She couldn't get the images out of her head.

It was so real. I was even standing here and so was Operations... Wearing an expression of confusion, Nikita turned and looked around into her bedroom. It looked empty too. The bed clothes were tangled as if someone had been laying on them. I remember laying down on the bed then I heard Operations calling me and I got up. Oh God ,it wasn't real. Damn it Nikita! It was a dream! It wasn't REAL!!! With a moan she squeezed her eyes tight and rocked back and forth against the railing.

To prove it to herself, she let go of the railing and went down the pair of steps into the living room. She crouched down besides the couch and felt the rug. It was dry. She felt in a larger circle, maybe she had the wrong spot. Not a wet or damp spot anywhere. She spoke out loud making herself jump. "At least that part wasn't real!" Relief from that discovery washed over her and she sagged against the side of the couch. Suddenly her head started to pound and she felt lightheaded. She closed her eyes again, willing away the wave of nausea that accompanied the pain away.

The images that were playing in her head came into vivid focus as she closed her eyes. As she came out of the bedroom, Operations had hurled her against the wall. He told her that it was time for her to make a choice. Him or her. At first she didn't know what he meant. He shoved a gun into her hands and pushed her forward to the railing. Michael was on his knees at the end of the couch on the floor, his head hanging down. His hands were behind his back , so she had assumed they were tied. Madeline stood to the side of him. Her hands rested on the shoulders of a girl about 10 years old. Her hair was almost the same color of Michael's but her eyes were a startling blue. More blue than even Nikita's and they were wide with terror. Tears silently fell from each one and her lower lip quivered but she didn't openly cry. She was tall and thin. Her hair was cut in a short bob. The face had began to lose its baby look. Her lips were full and bright pink. She looked like an angel.

Fighting to control her own terror, Nikita tried to fight off Operations but she just didn't have the strength. Her arms and legs felt like lead. Like she had been drugged. He stood behind her forcing her arms straight out. He held the gun with her, his finger covering her on the trigger. He was demanding that she choose. Michael or the child.

"I won't let you have both. You can only have one." Madeline repeated his words. There was almost an echo in the room. She pleaded with him. She begged him not to force that kind of choice on her. She couldn't do it.

Michael looked up at her. His own eyes full with pleading. "Let me go, mon coeur. She's more important." As she screamed no, Operations pulled the trigger. Michael fell forwards, bleeding from the chest.

"Took too long, lose both" was all Operations said as he pulled the trigger again. This time the gun was fired in the direction of the child. Screaming Nikita's knees buckled and she fell to them in front of Operations. Then...she had opened her eyes and found herself alone.

There was suddenly a loud bang like the report of a gun. Nikita scrambled to her feet, her pulse racing. The urge to assure herself of Michael's well being was overwhelming. Stumbling in her near frantic state, she went to the counter. Grabbing her keys she ran out the door, leaving it wide open.

A lone figure came from the bedroom dressed in black and armed. It panned the room with the weapon in its hands. Assured that there was no one there, the figure stood and motioned to someone in the rear. Four others joined the single. When it spoke it was with a gruff male voice.

"Search the place. Neatness doesn't count. Any kind of jewelry you find, grab it. Anything might have the chip."

The five intruders methodically ransacked the apartment. Nothing was left untouched. After a time they converged in the center of the living room.

"Anything?" the 'leader' asked.

They shook their heads as one answered, "Just these two bracelets."

"Let's go. We'll report back. Maybe he'll have figured out where the guy lives."

_______________________________ _________________________________

Nikita made it to Michael's in less than 30 minutes. She ran up the stairs but paused as she grabbed the doorknob. What if he isn't here? Does that mean it was real? Thrusting aside the possibility, she turned the knob. It was unlocked and the system was in standby. Unusual for him to do that but he had been furious when he left or was it something else. Foreboding filled Nikita as she entered the cabin.

He wasn't in the living room but the monitor was on and so was the light next to his chair. A mug of coffee sat on the computer desk. She felt it. It was ice cold. Then she heard the movement of clothing against the metal of the railing on the staircase. Nikita looked towards the stairs and found him standing there.

Her heart skipped a beat. Gulping audibly, she closed her eyes for a second and opened them again. He was still there. He wore a long sleeve black t-shirt that clung damply to his chest. His pants were black and slightly less form fitting than his shirt. His hair was slightly curly and still wet from his shower. His feet were bare. He stood and stared at her, paused in his action of tucking in his shirt.

With a husky voice she said, "You're o.k."

Hesitantly Michael replied, "Yes...." He finished his shirt, never taking his eyes off her face. Her eyes were wide with fear. Of what? She looks like she's seen the proverbial ghost.

She approached him and touched trembling hands to his chest. He could feel the cold radiate from her palms through his shirt. Reflexively he grabbed them in his own and brought them to his lips. He kissed the fingers that curled tightly around his. Her voice was still deep and husky as she spoke again.

"Would you come for me?"

He knew what her question meant. If the tables were turned, would he have come to rescue her as she had done for him. His answer was simple. "Yes."

"Will you always protect me?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Can you protect my daughter?"

"I'm trying. I found a way, I think."

For a minute Nikita stopped breathing. Next thing she knew he was crushing her in his arms. His face buried in her hair. She pushed him away so she could kiss him. It was a kiss of need, hunger and affirmation.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her. "I need you..." He paused unsure how to tell her not only about the child but more importantly about the secrets she was carrying. "I need you to..." he tried again but she placed a finger against his lips. Pulling from his embrace, but holding onto his hand, she started up the stairs. He resisted her pull for a moment but gave in. They fell together onto the bed. For now, the world consisted of only the two of them and what they felt for each other. Nothing else was of any importance.

Chapter 24

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Instead of watching Nikita and Michael make love this time, Bauer had listened. It only increased his jealous of Michael and his closeness with Nikita. They enjoy each other a little too much for my tastes. Yeah, Nikita, Mikey might be o.k. but wait til you've spent some time with me. He won't seem like anything ever again.

Bauer looked over the 10 men he had brought with him. So maybe it seemed like overkill, but he know the caliber of the two he was dealing with. He had witnessed it in the park. At full tilt, Nikita was formidable but could be defeated. She had been wounded three times before she went down. Shifting her focus might make her come down quicker and with less injuries. He didn't want any part of her damaged. He had made such wonderful plans for them.

Michael on the other hand was a problem. He fought like a wild animal when he knew Nikita was in danger. Like a male lion or wolf protecting its mate. Even though he had acted like that each move was still somehow precise and calculate to have the optimal effect. Michael was the best Bauer had ever seen in action. Bauer knew lose he would 4 to 5 men to Michael in a few minutes. But the losses were acceptable and expected. Motioning to the group with a pointing finger on an outstretched hand, he gave his orders.

"I want them both alive and as injury free as possible. I know some of you will not be coming back. Your loved ones will be taken care of. You've got the layouts. The alarm is jammed. Go for'em!

He watched as they exited the van. "Now" he instructed the driver over the intercom. He wanted to out of the vicinity when it went down.

____________________________________ __________________________________

Drowsily, Nikita played with Michael's hair as they lay embraced on the bed. He laid half on top of her and half on the bed. His head rested against her chest. A small smile played on her lips. It felt right to be here with him. Maybe she had found home at last.

"Are you awake?" His voice was deep and his accent thick.

God he sounds so sexy, Nikita's smile deepened as the thought occurred to her. She squirmed down under him until they were eye to eye. His eyes were dark and heavy.

"Do you have any idea how your voice and eyes are making me feel right now?" He continued to look at her, his expression becoming more serious as time passed.

"OK that's not on your mind anymore, " she said softly. "How about this? Where did you find her?"

Michael sat up and leaned against the headboard. "I found her in of all places, Montreal."

"How did she get there? What's her name?"

Closing his eyes, he answered quietly, "Katrina Nicole Monterre. But she's not with the couple who adopted her."

It was Nikita's turn to sit up. As she did, she tucked the sheet under both arms. Wrapping her arms around her legs she looked at him with knitted brows. "What are you talking about?"

Opening his eyes to look at her, he reached out and pushed a strand of her hair back behind an ear. "According to all records, Katie and her parents died in a car accident 8 years ago."

Michael watched all color drain from Nikita's face. He saw her breath become labored and tears gather in her eyes. He reached out to her with both arms and pulled her towards him. Nikita respond by wrapping herself around him.

"Before you get too upset I want you to listen to me. She's still alive."

"I altered records, Nikita and called in a few favors. According to the history I planted she was cremated and placed with her parents because she didn't live long after the accident. She had gone with family friends to recuperate but there were complications from the accident and she died from them. I buried things so deep that at this point even I would have trouble figuring out who her real parents were, I hope. I infected a number of systems with viruses tonight. Either evidence of her has been destroyed or altered to point away from any connection with you. I tried to eliminate any computer record trails or at least insert my info into it. The truth is this. She survived the accident and has lived the past 5 or so years in a boarding school."

"Why? Is it like a reform school or orphanage?"

"The family friends were older and now have mostly died off. She's at the school most of the time because the last caretaker was in a nursing home. She has to, there really isn't a home for her now. Katie lives off a trust fund established for her by her parents. She's alone now Nikita. I can't find anything to indicate who's ultimately responsible for her. According to the files at the school, she's now an orphan. I'm using that to help me. I have a friend who can help... I read some of her records. 'Seems reasonably comfortable and accepting of her state; tends to avoid, ignore the issues of the past as a method of coping; tends to lash out when angered, prefers to be alone; tendency towards moodiness; academically gifted. Athletically gifted. And get this little aside: Likes to play football, American style.' Intelligent moody loner who doesn't like people to bug her. Sound like anybody you know?"

Giving a sheepish grin to him, Nikita untangled herself from the sheet and leaned over the edge of the bed. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled it over her head and got out of bed. Michael watched her, trying to determine what she was thinking. She paced the floor for a minute. He watched as the smile on her face grew. With the growth of her smile, some of the weight on his shoulders lifted. She climbed back onto the bed and straddled his legs. Looking pleadingly into his eyes, a broad smile crossed her face again.

"Have you seen a picture of her? Can I go to see her? You said Montreal, right? Will you come with me? My French is kinda poor. I'll probably need your help to talk to her." Her words tumbled out, she was clearly excited.

Her excitement made Michael feel good but he knew she needed to temper it. His next thing to tell her was more than likely going to upset her again.

"Slow down. Let things cool off. Operations is hot now and he'll be even more so when he accesses the records. When he finds out what the records say, things will get uneasy around here. Let's wait a month or so. And most people in Montreal speak both French and English equally well." he added the last sentence in order to tease her and head off the annoyance he saw in her eyes.

"A month or so?!" Annoyed and a little bit mad at him, she scrambled off the bed and grabbed her stretch pants. With short choppy motions, she pulled them on.

With a sigh, Michael leaned across the bed to reach for her hand. He needed her to sit and listen to him. There were still important things to talk about.

"Nikita, come back. There something very important we need to discuss."

She backed away from his questing hand and started for the stairs. "I'm thirsty" she retorted in a clipped tone and quickly descended the steps.

With a small growl, Michael got up and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his own pants. His jaw was tight and his lips compressed together.

"Wonderful, here comes fight number 2 for the day." He ran his hands over his hair, trying to control it and himself at the same time. He was not in the mood to have an argument with her but their conversations had a tendency lately to drift in that direction.

For a minute, Nikita stood in the kitchen, leaning against the island. Her annoyance at Michael was plainly evident in the way she held herself and by the way she tapped her finger on the wooden top. Chewing on her lower lip, she yanked the refrigerator door open and pulled out a bottle of water. She opened it and smacked the screw top down on the counter."Month or so my foot." Taking a long swallow, she continued to chomp on his words.

Suddenly she was aware of someone behind her and she knew it wasn't Michael. She acted as if nothing had raised her awareness. Nonchalantly, she started to put the top on the bottle, changing her grip so she could use it as a weapon. Muttering under her breath as if she was still concentrating on something that had happened before, she sensed the move to grab her. She reacted by pivoting and swinging her fist with the bottle in it. Connecting with a face, she kicked and yelled out at the same time.

"MICHAEL, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!" Next thing she knew the patio door at the side of the kitchen flew open loudly and slammed into the end of the track, cracking the glass. Four more people entered through it..

Michael heard her yell and then a huge crash from down below. He was on his feet as the window behind him exploded inwards with the entrance of a swinging intruder. He dove and ducked at the same time grabbing the drawer of the nightstand and dumping it. Blindly digging for his gun, he rolled to face the window again. From his back he dropped the swinger. Moving instinctively, he was on his feet again in an instant.

Michael was met at the top of the stairs by another individual. He dodged a blow to the head and to the ribs by the intruder's weapon. He grabbed the gun, trying to wrestle it from the other man. Michael tried to retain his balance as his attacker lost his. They toppled together down the stairs. There was a sickening crunch half way down. Catching a rung of the railing, Michael was able to stop his descent. Using his natural agility, he sprung over the railing and landed like a cat on his feet. He held the sounds of fighting from the kitchen and then shattering of glass and the splintering of wood in the kitchen. "Merde!" he spit out under his breath. He'd lost his gun.

He was tackled from behind and crashed into the pool table. The force of hitting it broke a leg and the two of them spilled to the floor, grappling for the upper hand and rolling on billiard balls. Wrapping his forearm under the tackler chin, Michael snapped upwards and he drooped like a rag doll. Three other joined their fallen comrade and a general melee ensued in the alcove.

Grabbing a pool cue, Michael split it over one head. With the splintered end, he thrust to the side and upwards, catching another in the face. That one fell back with a scream. He knew where that had ended up. The tide was turning against Michael. He was starting lose his ground as bit by bit they were backing him into a corner. His concentration faltered as he heard her scream from the kitchen and then nothing. The slip was long enough for one of them to launch a kick that connected with the side of his head. He staggered back and down to one knee.

In the kitchen, Nikita had managed to send one intruder through the bay window at the end of the kitchen. One left the kitchen obviously to help in the other room. Getting close to the knife block, she managed to catch the handle of one. Yanking it from the block, she swung in an arch. Feeling the drag of the blade, Nikita knew she had been successful. Another dropped to the floor withering in agony due to the knife wound across his throat.

She could hear the sounds of the struggle in the alcove but couldn't help Michael as she defended herself against two others. Despite her best efforts they managed to pin her against the refrigerator and stab her with a needle in the ribs.

"NO!" she screamed as she felt the prick. Within seconds her eyes couldn't focus and her limbs got heavy. She went limp as the tranquilizer took effect. Supporting her between both of them, they carried her from the kitchen into the dining room.

In the midst of the bodies that were pushing him up against the bookcase, he saw them carrying Nikita towards the front door. He could see how limp she was and knew she was knocked out. One of them let go of her and started towards Michael. The attacker who held her swung her up over his shoulder and went out the door. With a scream of rage, he reacted liked a cornered animal. He slapped at the prick to his arm because he realized what it was.

As the world lost all its sharp edges, Michael knew he'd been drugged. He couldn't give up though. He continued to fight in a more subtle way. He let himself seemingly lose muscle control. They dragged him from the room to a van that was parked out front. Even before they had Michael in the back, it was starting to drive away. He saw his opening and took it. He'd been fighting the effects of the tranquilizer and now he used the strength he had gained.

A struggle ensued as the van fishtailed and the driver fought to remain in control. He was nervous over the struggle in the back and possible discovery. The motion of the van made Michael lose his grip on the arm of one of them. He felt himself fall through the still open door and then from the back of the moving van. Though barely able to focus and with little strength left, his intense need to protect Nikita and inborn stubbornness to never give up kicked in. He hooked a hand on the bumper as he fell. His grip was flighting. Gravity and momentum pulled him to the road. Hitting it full force knock the wind out of him.

Fighting the blackness around him, Michael tried to stay conscious. He could hear the squealing of the brakes of the van from a long way off. Vaguely he realized he was still moving as he slide along the edge of the road bed and down an embankment. With his last shreds of consciousness, he prayed it wasn't too close to the drop-off for the mountain. Though not steep but sloping downwards he continued to roll and slide. Finally battered, bruised and unconscious, he came to rest against a fallen tree trunk.

All but two of the hostiles that were left scrambled out of the van where it had stopped. Dawn was starting to break over the horizon and birds were starting to sing. It was in stark contrast to the scene that had taken place. They searched through the bush at the top where they thought Michael had fallen. Gathering at the back of the van, they looked at each other. One grimly spoke,

"He'll kill us if we only come back with her. He stressed he wanted both of them alive."

Another hissed back, "We don't even know if Superman there is alive. He hit pretty hard. Hell, in this dark, I can't even tell how far down it drops over there. But I think it might be the edge. He's probably in pieces at this point. Let's get her back to Bauer and take our chances from there. I'll even volunteer to come back to look for him. Votes?"

The others nodded in agreement. They climbed back in and with one last look out the back, the door closed. The driver looked angrily back at the group huddled in the back. "He's going to blow our fucking heads off!"

"Shut your damn mouth now! We've got what he wanted most. Later we come back to find where Superman ended up. We gave him enough tranq to keep him out for a couple of hours. As long as the fall didn't kill him, we've got time. Let's drop her off and come back! How is she?"

The one who had been guarding Nikita answered. "She'll be out for a long time yet." He grabbed Nikita's chin and turned her head from side to side.

"Shit, what a looker! No wonder Bauer wants to jump her. Think we've got a chance guys?"

Rude snickers were followed by the leader back handing the one closest to Nikita. "Touch her and I'll personally put the bullet through your head. If he shares, I'm sure you will get the chance. But don't hold your breath and don't even get the idea to try it right now. He will find out."

Silence filled the van at his pronouncement. No more of them wanted to die.

End of Part IV

written by Tammy

continue on to Shades of Grey V

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