#1

They once stood side by side, one front against the rest of the world, with a bond between them that seemed unbreakable. Now they were standing opposite of each other, unyielding green to unforgiving blue, with guns pointed at one another.

´Move` Nikita pressed her lips into a thin line, showing just a slight sign of the hate that lived in her heart.

But he didn’t move. He only matched her hatred with his own. ´No`

´Move or I´ll shoot`

As an answer he pointed his gun to her heart. Nikita took one step forward.

A single shot ran out.

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#2

Walter, aka Operations, stood lonely in his Perch watching the activity below. He turned his head as his second-in-command, the long-legged Nikita, came in. He would invite her to the Tower later.

´We have a problem` She told him, and it was thanks to her incredible insight in a human’s psyche that she knew this. `I suspect a bond has formed between two of our key operatives. `

Walter was impressed. ´Who? `

´Birkoff and Madeline. `

´Then let’s send Birkoff on a deep cover mission.`

´That's what I thought.` Nikita smiled. ´The target's name is Michael, son of Paul.´

Madeline moved through Section's familiar corridors, expression neutral, focused on the task ahead. Those she passed would never know her thoughts. She mused that, contrary to popular belief, she did not relish this part of the job; it was merely one of her duties. She prided herself on being a most capable student of the intricacies of interrogation, nothing more.

Reaching her destination, she took another moment to mentally prepare for the guest waiting within the White Room. Once the massive door creaked shut behind her, Madeline pleasantly addressed the room's only other occupant, "Good morning, Paul. Shall we begin?"

#1

The air is thick with smoke and anticipation. The dance floor is crowded, but there’s no mistaking that flash of golden hair.

She stalks through the dance routine, her hips swinging wildly as the contact hands her the disc. She gives him a smile ripe with promise, then her eyes find mine in the darkness.

She strolls toward me, a provocative gleam of intent in her eyes. Her wide mouth curving in a smile of challenge, she lays her hand on my chest. Her warm touch chases the breath from my lungs and the caution from my mind.

Damn her.

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#2

Michael glared at him. “Are we done?”

“No.” The blood roared in his ears, drowning out all reason. “There’s one more thing.” Closing his eyes, Jurgen finally took what he’d craved for months.

A kiss.

He was greedy. Violent. The taste of Michael’s mouth made his senses swim. His pulse pounded between his legs, his fingertips digging into Michael’s shoulders, urging the touch of hard flesh against his own. Through the fog of desire shrouding his thoughts, however, his brain registered two words.

Passive resistance.

Pulling away, he opened his eyes to find Michael regarding him coolly. “Is that all?”

Howling, whipping, buffeting... the wind wrapped itself around the quonset hut, threatening to levitate it at any moment. Dawn barely illuminated the tiny windows that peered over the bleak ice-packed landscape.

Nikita rolled over and reached for her parka. As her arm emerged from the sleeping bag, it registered a vestige of warmth in the tiny space. She quickly set her seal-clad feet on the floor and turned up the heat.

"What the hell are we doing here anyway?"

Michael stared at her from his cot. She looked so tired. His voice croaked, husky from sleep.

"We get out today."

#1

Never Look Back

Walter put the tiny electronic detonator down and shook his head. “That’s re-goddamed-diculous. No way.” He glanced past Birkoff, peering right and left, ensuring no one was headed in their direction. Anonymous drones walked by on their way to some gruesome task, no doubt. Dropping his voice, he said, “Where’d you get the intel?”

Leaning forward, Birkoff said softly, “An encoded message was sent to Madeline. I was running an alpha sweep and I…um… kind of read some of it.” He buried his hands in his pockets, the perfect image of a teenager caught reading dad’s copy of Playboy Magazine.

#2

I don’t love you. I never did.

The words rung in his ears as he dashed several miles through the forest. A small trail of blood dripped down his cheek. Night was beginning to descend. There was always comfort in darkness.

Stopping for a brief rest, he removed a small device from his jacket. Flicking open the lid, he keyed in a code and waited for a confirmation.

“Yes.”

“Phase One Complete.”

“Copy.”

He slipped the device in his pocket and continued to the exit point, counting the days until he could tell Nikita the truth. The truth about everything.

#1

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

The sun crept over the horizon like syrup hangs from your fork just as you are eating pancakes, just before it drops down on "the twins" and stains that new white shirt that you spent a fortune on that has to be handwashed by Buddist Monks but only on holy days beginning with an X, that's how the sun crept, slow and sticky, smearing it's way across the horizon, blurring the pattern of the plate and covering the sky with a sickeningly sweet smell that will stay with you for the rest of the day.

Nikita sighed. "That's how I feel."

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#2

"We've been requested to render assistance to another agency. They are sending their man over now. He doesn't follow the chain of command, quips one-liners, flirts and is careless with his equipment. Michael, you're the only agent he'll agree to work with, you and Nikita, though that has little to do with her qualifications," Operations sneered, unable to resist.

Just then the agent walked into Operations' office. Confident, charming and devastating, just like the movies. He ignored Operations and Michael and advanced on Nikita. With a sparkle in his eyes he lifted her hand to his lips. "Bond, James Bond."

#1

Ear pressed to the phone, Nikita listened to her father’s replacement at Centre offer condolences then immediately move on to business.

Minutes later, an uneasy Nikita prepared to meet Section’s new temporary boss. An adjustment period, she’d been told.

An attractive, mid-thirties man entered Comm trailed by a slim, balding male.

Nikita smiled in greeting but was waved away by the man who, she noticed, was missing a thumb.

“Spare me the welcoming speech.” He turned to his companion, “Start with the mainframe. Make sure the genius can’t tunnel into this place at least.”

“Yes Mr. Lyle.” Broots responded meekly.

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#2

Michael walked hand in hand with Adam through the busy streets of the metropolis. His options outside of Section had been limited, even more so now that he had been reunited with his son.

As they neared the tall building, Michael ran through his choices one last time. Once he passed through those doors there’d be no turning back.

As soon the two cleared the opulent glass doors, they were welcomed by a familiar face.

“Welcome to Wolfram & Hart.” The newest boss of the Los Angeles branch of the worldwide law firm smiled.

“Thank you,” Michael returned Angel’s greeting.

It is difficult not to watch when Michael walks by in his familiar smooth strut; Jurgen certainly isn't the only one. The two giggling female operatives shamelessly ogle Michael's backside. It irks Jurgen to be in the same category as them.

The more adventurous of the duo steps forward and calls him. Michael turns – gracefully, as usual – to face her. Her expression is that of worship. It's disgusting. But Michael has always affected women that way.

Then he remembers the warmth of Michael's mouth against his - a sensation he's tried to forget more often than he cares to remember.

Bastard.

“Michael, wake up”

“He’s still too deep. Give him a sec.”

“No, Madeleine wants him awakened now. You want to tell her about a delay?”

“Good point.”

“Wait, he’s coming to. Michael, say something and let us know your brain is still all there.”

“What’s happening? Why am I here?”

“Good clear speech, make a note. Michael, you’ve been reviewing our new memory implant program. You’ve got the equivalent of two years of memories that you should think really happened.”

“Wait, this is authorized personnel only.”

“Hey, Michael, glad to see that you’re among the living.”

“Walter… where’s Nikita?”

“Who?”