She sighed. She was tired, cranky, and in generally a foul mood. The thunderstorms outside only accented her mood. The tears came from nowhere- a place so deep inside herself, she almost feared them. Almost.

She held on to the punching bag she had been using and let the tears fall.

"Michol?"

She turned and found the owner of the gym giving her a worried frown. She attempted a smile and failed miserably. "I'll be okay, Ray. Days like this remind me of a past I can't seem to let go." Michol answered her friend truthfully.

Ray nodded, understanding the past's hold on a person. "If you need an ear, Michol, you know where to find me." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and walked away, leaving her alone again to deal with her demons.

Michol nodded even though he never saw it. She looked at the bag and knew she should quit- go home, put in Nina Simone and crank up the volume. The mood and the pain would pass, she knew from experience. But tonight was different.

After her shower, she waved to Ray and left, walking into the storm without protection. She did not go home. It was time.

"Michael."

Michael turned at the sound of his name. His surprise at whom he found calling his name in the park was well hidden as the man approached him. The man scowled. He didn't like this- not at all- but he owed her. He handed the younger man the envelope and walked away. As he left, he recalled the reason for this delivery- an email he had gotten two days prior that he couldn't ignore. Its seven words shattered a year of forgetting.

****It has been a year, tell him.****

The words had been that simple and that difficult. Telling Michael meant altering Michael's perception of him. It meant showing that he might still have feelings. It meant explanations. But it could mean the return of his best operative. That was his main reason for doing this delivery.

Of course the email had no return address- but he had known exactly who it had come from as well as who and what the sender was refering to.

Michael stared at the envelope as the questions began running through his mind- questions he would never ask.

Opening the envelope, he removed the pictures and let out a strangled sound. For the first time in a year, he allowed himself to consciously think of her- Nikita, the only Section One operative he knew of that got out- alive. The pictures stared back at him- Nikita shopping in a grocery store, Nikita going to work, and finally, Nikita sitting on a front porch.

Then the questions began their course again: How had Operations found her? How long has he known? Why did he let her go? Why was he showing these now? Why not a year ago? What did Operations want?

"Michael, close the door." Operations ordered. He had been waiting for the younger man.

And for the first time since his recruitment, Michael wanted an explanation. "How long have you known?"

"I always knew you could never cancel Nikita, Michael. I didn't stop her because I owed her. I showed you the pictures because she wanted you to know she was doing fine. I've known her location for three months." That was all Operations would say on the subject.

Michael nodded and left knowing he would not ask anymore questions and that the other man would reveal nothing else.

In his office, he took out the pictures again. He smiled. She seemed to be enjoying life. For that alone, the remaining piece of his heart knew he had done the right thing- for the first time since he had joined the section, and even before, he had done the right thing by setting her free. He wondered what she was doing now. Why hadn't she answered his messages, but he knew the answer to that himself- or at least he had thought he did. If she knew Operations was on her side, why hadn't she let him know she had lived, had gotten out in time?

His computer started beeping then and he found he had an email.

****You never trust me. =) I miss you.****

Michael chuckled. "I miss you too." He whispered as he deleted the email. There was no point in trying to find her- if she had wanted a reply, she would have used a return address. He knew Birkoff could find her but he let it go. Besides, he still had the PDA at home.

"Birkoff, Walter, come here." He had no idea what he was going to tell them but he knew he had to let them know that their friend was alive and well.

They glared at him as they entered. Michael sighed. He hadn't liked not telling them- so many times he almost did tell them just to end the angry glares the two gave him. But he had remained silent, believing Nikita's life hung in the balance. He decided to let the photos speak for themselves, he handed them the pictures

Walter stared at Michael. Birkoff stared at the pictures. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither of them knew how to get the words out. "I am sorry, Michael." Walter found his voice.

"As am I. We should have-" Birkoff started only to have Michael cut him off.

"If you had, I thought Operations would find out in some way. It no longer matters- Operations has always known she was alive. I am sorry I couldn't tell you. That's all."

Another message was waiting for him at home.

****Thank you, Michael.****

His reply was simple.

****You are welcome. I miss you too.****

Over the following two weeks, Madeline noted that the old Michael was back. He was competent, focused, and cunning again. She smiled and wondered what Operations had thought up now but didn't ask.

"Get out now!" Michael yelled just as the first wave of blasts hit Section One.

Then there was chaos and death.

Most were lucky enough to die. Others were fortunate to be left there alive. A few had the nightmare of being captured. Only one escaped- barely.

The doorbell raised Michol's eyebrows. It was two thirty-seven in the morning, who would be calling at this time of the morning?

"My beautiful niece! How are you? Surprised to see your Uncle Oscar?" The woman stared, then smiled. "Uncle Oscar! You old devil! What are you doing out so early? I've missed you, come on in!"

He hugged her and whispered. "Is there somewhere safe to talk?"

"How's Aunt Maddie?" she asked as she lead the way to the basement- and an old bomb shelter.

"Nikita, I need your help. Red Cell has Madeline and Michael. Walter is dead- killed in the initial explosion and Birkoff is in the ICU of a local hospital. Section One is in rubbles." Operations briefed her.

Michol- Nikita- limited her questions to two: "How and why?"

"An operative sold out. Red Cell wants the other operatives." He sighed, leaning against the wall heavily.

Operations had never looked so tired. Nikita studied him and began to see how the years had taken their toll on him. His orders had cost him, she began to realize. "What is your plan?" Nikita asked.

"Get them out." Operations stated firmly, straightening. "It is only you and I. All of Birkoff's machines and Walter's guns are gone. We have got to get them out."

Nikita nodded at Operations, realizing that he must care for Madeline. "Did you tell him?"

Operations looked up at her then. "Of course!" He barked. "Will-"

"Of course! That is why you came here. You knew." Nikita barked right back.

Operations, for the first times since she had known him, smiled. Same old Nikita.

"What is the plan?" she asked again.

"I know where they will take them." Operations started.

Nikita's tears fell silently as she kissed Birkoff's forehead. She whispered for him to survive and told him she loved him before she slipped out of his room.

Two days had passed since Operations had come to see her. Two long days full of plans and options and worry. Two days of exhausting, old fashion surveillance. But now it was time for action.

"Get them out, Nikita, no matter what happens, get them out." Operations gave her a final order just before they started their assault.

"Madeline, can you walk?" Nikita asked as she bent to lift Michael on to her shoulders again.

"Nikita, what are you doing here? You are dead." Madeline's voice was slurred. "Oh, another hallucination." Madeline shook her head.

Nikita rolled her eyes, stepped in front of her and slapped her. "Wake the hell up. I don't have the time for this crap!" she hissed.

Madeline stared at her. "Nikita?"

"It's a long story. We have to get out of here now." Nikita took her arm and began leading them out.

"Get them out, Nikita. I'll be fine." Operations caught up with her three minutes later.

Nikita's eyes narrowed. "If you aren't out ten minutes after we are, I'm coming back in."

Operations glared at her then nodded.

Nikita sighed as she carried Operations out. Red Cell was finally finished- disbanded permanently by death.

"Nikita." Birkoff entered Michael's room in search of her.

Nikita only nodded, not talking her eyes off Michael. Two weeks had passed. Two excruciatingly long weeks where she briefed the Agency's representative, explained to Oscar-Operations- the last of her part, saw Madeline come off her drugs, Birkoff wake up, and Oscar heal, all the while Michael never improved.

"Oper- Oscar would like to see you, Nikita." Birkoff whispered. "I'll watch over Michael for you."

Nikita looked up and nodded. Silently, she glided out of the room and down the hospital hallway to Oscar's room.

"Nikita, he'll pull through, you know how strong he is." Oscar tried to tell her again. "What did the Agency say?"

"You no longer exist. Find your son, Oscar, and take care of Madeline. I will see to Birkoff and Michael." Nikita wasted no words.

"And you, Nikita? What will happen to you?" Madeline asked from behind her in the doorway.

"They own me again." Nikita laughed harshly. "Both of you are unfit for duty anymore, they tell me. I told them fine, that if that was so, you are free. The man actually thought I was joking. He was surprised when I cut off his left thumb. He was agreeable after I cut off his left pointer finger." She tossed some paperwork on the table. "They won't find you and if they do, they know what my actions will be. Find your son, Oscar, he needs to know you. Madeline, take care of them both."

"Nikita, what is going to happen?" Birkoff asked as she entered Michael's hospital room.

"I am going to set you up as a programmer of the computer games, Birkoff. You are done with the Section." Nikita chuckled, rubbing his head.

"I'm free?" Birkoff stared at her.

"Yes, Birkoff, you are free. You never have to worry about them anymore."

"Will I see you again?"

"Every Christmas, Birkoff. That I promise you." Nikita smiled as she squeezed his shoulder.

Birkoff stood and hugged her fiercely. "And Michael? What will happen to him?" He whispered as he let her go.

"He too is free. As are Oscar and Madeline. They are going to find Oscar's son. I am going to set up Michael as a sheriff in a small town, I believe, for him to regain at least part of his soul. After that I do not know." Nikita smiled up at him as she sat down.

Birkoff chuckled. "You never gave up on any of us, even Op- Oscar and Madeline."

"If I had, I would never have left. You should get some rest, Birkoff."

She gently urged him to head back to his own room.

Birkoff smiled. "Be careful, Nikita."

"Michael, it's been two weeks. I think it's about time you woke up. Everyone's worried about you- you've always been the quick, stubborn healer. Michael, if you don't wake up soon, I'll be gone." Nikita whispered late that night. She only had a couple more days at the max before she had to report in. She didn't want to leave without saying good bye- even though she knew she'd end up lying to him, telling him she was free still. She let her head drop and the tears fall behind a wall of golden hair.

"Nikita."

Her head jerked up at the sound of her name. She found Michael staring at her. She tried to give him a smile.

"Where am I?"

"A local hospital." Her answer was clipped.

His eyes shifted. "Madeline?" He whispered, remembering.

"Is fine. Oscar- Operations- is fine as well as Birkoff. Walter is dead." Nikita smiled slightly.

"The Section? What-"

"Is destroyed."

"We should-" He started only to have Nikita cut him off again.

"Michael, you are free. Your new life will be as a sheriff in a small town far from here. Your background is a covert military officer. It has all been arranged."

"And you?" He looked into her eyes.

"I already have my life, Michael." She never broke eye contact with him. "Madeline and Oscar- that's Operation's first name- will be looking for his son. Birkoff will be a computer game programmer."

Michael laughed. "He'll enjoy that."

Nikita nodded, then turned serious. "Michael, more than I is alive in you. It is time you found your misplaced soul. I will see you and Birkoff at Christmas. That will be our holiday. You two are my family."

Nikita whispered. She leaned over and gently kissed him before she stood up and left.

"She's never late. Where is she?" Birkoff asked, peering out the window again. This Christmas they were meeting at Michael's house in a small Colorado town.

"Birkoff, the airport is closed, has been for hours. Her flight probably never made it in." Michael chuckled, trying to ease the younger man's worry. Three years of freedom had agreed with them both, he smiled. But he too couldn't shake the feeling of dread.

The knock on the door two hours later brought smiles to their faces- until they opened it and found three people- none of which were Nikita.

"Madeline? Oscar?" Birkoff croaked. He didn't recognize the third person.

"Birkoff. Michael." Oscar nodded to them. "This is my son, Stephen. Steve- Michael and Birkoff." He introduced them.

Michael let none of his emotions show as he shook hands with the dead man- a man Nikita had been forced to kill to save his own life over five years ago.

Birkoff realized in that moment what Nikita had done. He turned to face Michael and saw the flicker of understanding there as well.

"What happened to Nikita?" Michael asked quietly.

Madeline raised her hand to reach for him then thought better of it. She looked over at Oscar and nodded. It was time for the truth.

"She sent us a communication to come here ASAP." Oscar started. "Three years ago, after she helped me get you and Madeline out, Michael, she was the one who briefed the Agency. She cut off the liaison's left thumb and pointer finger before he realized how serious she was about our freedom. His compromise was us for her- if she could cut off his fingers without a care of the consequences, he wanted her." Oscar's tone was clipped.

"And now? Where is Nikita now?" Birkoff asked in a whisper of worry and fear.

"I do not know. I have tried my old contacts but none would tell me anything. All I know is that she was on a mission three days ago. We received her message then."

"There was no heartbeat, sir. The place was leveled only seconds later. She is dead, sir." The transmission came through.

"Damn!" The man swore. She was the best, even if she never fully obeyed him. Her soul kept her unpredictable but she was the only one without a failed mission- only because she would finish it herself if anything went wrong. Her life meant nothing to her- he had known it the day she reported of Madeline and Michael's rescue- the day she had removed two of his fingers without batting an eye. "Report to my office as soon as you are back!" He ordered.

The doorbell- she didn't bother with it- she had a key. Unfortunately, she didn't make it across the threshold before she collapsed.

Michael found her sprawled half in the front door half out two hours later. He couldn't sleep and had come down to light a fire and think. He carefully picked her limp body up, shut the door, and carried her to his bed. He undressed her and gasped at her wounds.

"Is she alive, Michael?" Madeline asked softly as she entered the room.

"Barely." Michael whispered and went to retrieve his medical kit. When he returned, Birkoff and Oscar were also in the room.

For three nights and four days, Birkoff, Oscar, Madeline, and Steve watched over Michael as he refused to budge from her side. For three nights and four days, Michael held her hand, silently begging her to wake up. For three nights and four days, Nikita remained motionless- death like.

On the fourth night, Michael leaned over her, kissed her lips gently, and whispered, "Do not take away my soul again, Nikita. Because of you, I have found part of it again- a big part. Do not take it again from me. This time I won't survive."

"You will." She whispered back hoarsely as she opened her eyes. "I am sorry, Michael."

"Hush. There is no reason to apologize. You did what you thought best and maybe it was. You should have told us the truth instead of letting us come up with other conclusions, but we both know why you did it. Rest, my heart, rest." Michael whispered and brushed his lips across hers.

"I am free." She whispered before her eyes closed again.

The End