There was no such thing as certainty within the confines of Section One. Falsehood, half-truths, broken promises, and betrayal were all Nikita saw anymore. She had long ago realized(during her 6 month stint at freedom) that she belonged in the section, even as she realized she could never let herself belong TO the section. Even after coming to this understanding she discovered she still needed a release for her pent up frustrations, emotions, and even desires. This put her well on her way to becoming a poet. She found poetry the only way to let out her feelings while still keeping them internalized and private.

One day she found a beautifully interesting journal which exactly suited her at a discount bookstore and then it began. She had felt too old for a diary and couldn’t really have journal since a written record of her activities would NOT be okay with section. Poetry is where Nikita found release, and she was the only one who knew it.....at first.

Once Nikita became accustomed to her beautiful release, which is what she had scrolled on her journal’s cover she began to take it with her when within section for long periods. Two months later she, along with a great majority of Section One, was placed on close quarter standby. Now that she was caged she found it hard to write within the confines of her non-utilitarian, sparse, barren section room. Two days into standby she still couldn’t get any release from her thoughts. She decided to seek out a more comfortable environment, although she realized that doing this would be next to impossible.

***********

She let her feet lead her and discovered her first destination to be Walter’s workshop. “Hello Sugar.” Walter tossed at her with a slight leer as she entered his area. “What brings you here?” “Hi Walter, I needed to get out of my room for a while, mind if I grab a corner and write for a while?” Once he confirmed his willingness to let her remain while he worked on he had only one question, “What you writing?” “Poetry.” her answer was short and quick, like she was afraid of being condemned or belittled and Walter knew the please don’t press me look in her blue eyes, so he continued his work and left her to her own.

Her poetry had many subjects and many facets. Sometimes they were silly lyrics about section or it’s leaders. Some were humorous and stared her co-workers. Dark images were often portrayed after disturbing missions or bad moods within herself. Sentiments for her few friends were the ones which gave her the most comfort. Paging back she noticed one about her head-strong, relationship-troubled friend Carla. Several were about the young cocky Birkoff she had come to relate to as a younger brother. Even more were dedicated to the man who now worked mere feet away from her. But most pages were filled with a different man.

***********

Unconciously she got up and parted from Walter with a quick goodbye. As if her ‘beautiful release’ was guiding her she went to his office and seeing it empty and dark she entered and sat in her usual seat. Here in this place that almost felt like home she read a poem she had written a few days earlier, her most recent entry, but she didn’t need the light to see words ingrained on her brain.

Everyman

Everyman looks at me with longing eyes
they all wonder what it would take to get between my thighs
everyman but you
stuttering as I walk by
lose their train of thought when I catch their eye
everyman but you
each one dying to get close to me
longing to eat the fruit of the forbidden tree
everyman but you
and I sit here wanting
wishing waiting
not for everyman
but you.

She sighed and suddenly feeling much to tired she layed her ‘sweet release’ on Michael’s desk and then followed it with her head, falling into the sleep which had previously evaded her.

***********

Michael entered his office an hour later and in the darkness didn’t even notice Nikita until he had already closed the door. Upon turning around he saw Nikita’s almost lumincent hair and going to his own chair he pondered the question of whether or not he should awaken this sleeping beauty. Reaching over he turned on his soft desk lamp and decided to let her rest for a bit. He so rarely got to look at her lately he allowed himself the selfish pleasure this one time. Then he saw it. An intricately designed book of some sort with the words ‘Beautiful Release” painted across the front. Intrigued and as of yet unaware of the personal nature of this thing he lifted it carefully and opened it, curious as to what type of thing Nikita would read..

He opened it to where it was marked and read the words she had just thought to herself. His first though was amazement at the talent of his young trainee for he knew by her script that Nikita had written this. Next he wondered who this man was, who she wished for but didn’t even notice her. He pondered how any man could keep from noticing her without being literally blind and deaf. When he read the final words written below it his heart almost broke. Scattered with teardrops make apparent in the pages discoloration was written: *Oh, Michael, what must I do to make you see me...not Josephine the operative, but Nikita, the woman, who loves you with all her heart and soul. Yes, my soul...I know that as long as I entrust it to you it will be safe from my circumstances.*

Even as he sat in shock at the barage of emotions which erupted within one half of him as he realized that the love he had thought came from Nikita now became a certainty, his section half was proud that she didn’t mention section in her writing.

As his trained mind pulled him from the shock he slowly began to discover that the woman of his thoughts was staring at him. He easily read the emotions written on her face; embarassment, hope, anger, love, and was that relief? But even as he began to make his appologies, Nikita was standing, retreiving her book and walking toward the door.

************

The first thing she thought when she woke to discover Michael reading her most recent poem of which he was the subject was that she could kill him for looking at her personal things. Quickly she realized two things: she had left it on his desktop, and you couldn’t really tell it was private from the outside. Her next thoughts were to wonder if he would think her silly for her attempts at poetry, something she guessed he would have proficient knowledge in. Her feelings of love were everpresent, and the hope came from the moments wait to see what he would say to her. Finally, relief. He knew, if he hadn’t known beyond a reasonable doubt before , he did now.

When she realized he had no words for her outpourings of emotions for this man she couldn’t take it. She had no strength for anger or tears or explainations, so she took her ‘Beautiful Release’ and rose to leave. Only he intercepted her fleeting form before she could even reach out for the doorknob.

Sighing for the second time that night she softly stated, without looking up to meet his gaze, “Michael, please. I’m...tired. I can’t take excuses or explainations or criticism right now.” When after a minute or so he hadn’t yet moved out of her path nore said a word she finally looked up, and what she saw nearly made her sob outright at the depth apparent in Michael’s liquid green/gray eyes.

Reverently he reached out and ran the back of hand along Nikita’s jaw. For the first time in years, now certain of how she felt, Michael allowed his eyes to show an emotion he thought he could no longer feel...love. Deep, true, and unconditional...allfor her. As she studied his face and watched his eyes she saw the never experienced but clearly recognizable feelings and in that moment was certain of Michael’s love for her tears pooled in her eyes and made twin streaks of salty wetness down her face.

Slowly Michael leaned down and kissed the tears off her face, tasting them on his lips, experiencing the joy which caused them instead of sadness. Then he spoke three words which confirmed what she had seen in his eyes, “I AM everyman.” Instantly Nikita realized that to her, Michael was everyman. He was her guardian angle, her closest friend, her teacher, the closest thing to family she had ever known, and with those three words there was the promise of his becoming her true love(the only she had ever known), even if he hadn’t said those words...yet. Now she knew with certainty, it was only a matter of time.

The end.

************

Somewhere along the way Section One had lost it’s path. Innocents began to become acceptable collateral, and bad guys were the one’s necessary to save. He couldn’t remember when it had happened, but it had. All the things Section One should have stood for were never present...truth, honor, compassion, protecting those who can’t protect themselves. When had it become a kiss ass operation. When had he become the figurative brown noser. Wasn’t the point of being the most covert anti-terrorist organization on the planet that you made your own rules and didn’t have to answer to higher powers?

As these thoughts ran through Operations’ head he looked down and noticed the light in Michael’s office. ‘Someday,’ he thought, ‘someday, you will stand here and together you will help Section find it’s way back to the path I can no longer see.’ This was the only thing of which he was certain.

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