Chapter 01 - What Do You Think?

The silence was the worst.

Nikita didn't know when she'd stopped looking for a chance to escape… two, three days ago? It didn't matter anyway. She'd lost count of the days she'd been held captive. This place was timeless, it just was… her whole world, a room completely white, almost painfully so. It hurt her eyes to look at the walls around her.

She was strapped to a cot, unable to move. And it was cold, so cold.

If she turned her head a little she could catch a glimpse of the tiny holes the needles had left on her right arm. So far they hadn't done anything but inject her with something.

Something. Nikita had begun to hate that word. Something. Something could be drugs, a serum, a poison.

Something could kill her.

And she had the feeling that they were waiting for something to have its effect. This uncertainty... she hated to be this powerless… had always hated it. To be captured, to be used as a guinea pig, to be watched... The absolute silence was killing her slowly. At first she'd screamed and yelled. She'd even attempted to sing or hum, but then she'd remembered her training and stayed mute.

Never show them what you're thinking.

Yes, the silence was the worst.

***

Nikita was silently reciting every lesson she'd been given regarding survival training when the door behind her swung open. She forced herself to stay still, not knowing who it was - probably somebody checking on her. But a second later a black clad figure stepped next to her, loosening her restraints, and she breathed out, relieved. Section had finally found her.

"Can you walk?"

Michael.

Nodding, Nikita sat up, ignoring that the room around her was spinning. She had to get out of here. So white... The moment her bare feet touched the cold floor she collapsed and everything went black.

***

The room she awoke in was white, and Nikita asked herself if she still was a prisoner of Red Cell. But no, there was something: a soft hum, barely audible, but still a sound. Finally. She felt warm. She was curled up on a bed, a blanket covering her, and she could move.

Med lab.

Which wasn't really better, but a definite improvement.

One of the nurses entered and left immediately, seeing that she was conscious. Nikita groaned, closing her eyes and wishing to be asleep again. There was a constant, nagging pain in the back of her head. She seemed fine otherwise. Could've been worse. At least this time she hadn't had rats running all over her face.

Suddenly Nikita shuddered involuntarily. It was as if something icy had touched her, something cold and dangerous. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around, but there wasn't anything unusual - just Madeline, who stood at the foot of her bed.

"I see you're awake. How are you?"

Nikita stared at the older woman. The fleeting feeling had vanished, but she was uneasy. Something had been there, inside her head, and it scared her. Or she'd gone a little crazy these last days.

"Fine."

Madeline looked in her eyes. "I expect a full report tomorrow morning, 8:00 AM. You are physically unharmed. Your blood shows no sign of injections or drugs. Do you feel pain, or unusual in any way?"

Deciding to ignore her headache, Nikita replied, "No. Can I go?"

"Yes." The quiet tapping of Madeline's high-heeled shoes ceased with the closing of the door.

On her way out Nikita deliberately passed Michael's office. Although she still was mad at him, she wanted to thank him. After all he'd saved her life. But he wasn't there. She shrugged. He was often absent these days… probably on another mission.

***

Chapter 02 - I Feel

She shut the door to her apartment with her foot, sighed, and looked at the ceiling. Finally. Home again.

Nikita threw her coat carelessly over the couch and lit some candles. Then she went to the kitchenette and poured herself some wine. She smiled bitterly. A half-full glass was still standing on the counter; she hadn't had time to finish it before her last mission.

That had been six days ago.

In six days she'd traveled half-way around the world, been captured and probably drugged, finally been freed, only to find herself at the kitchen counter again, a glass of red wine in her hand.

Nikita asked herself how much time she'd have to drink this one.

***

"Hey, Walter." Nikita dropped onto a chair and yawned.

The weapons expert smiled briefly at her. "Rough night?"

"Rough week."

Walter looked up from the bomb he was currently inspecting. "I heard about that, sugar. Didn't they give you at least some downtime?"

"Why?" She sounded sarcastic. "I haven't been shot or tortured or anything. I'm fine. Why should they give me downtime? And I have to get that report to Madeline." She held up a small disc. "Have you seen Michael today?"

Walter frowned. Nikita's behavior towards Michael had been frosty ever since the Peruze mission a month ago; he couldn't really blame her for that. "Nope. Haven't seen him since you've been brought in. And no, I don't know where he is."

Nikita sighed and stood up. "Thanks, Walter."

"Anytime, sugar."

***

"This," Operations pointed towards a picture on the holo-screen, "is Max Harris."

Nikita tried to focus on the briefing but failed miserably. She was consumed by feelings, strange feelings...

Coldness, Ruthlessness, Hate...

But they felt funny, they weren't her own. As yesterday in Med Lab, something was inside her head, and the pain attacked with such force that Nikita wanted to scream. It came in waves and seemed to get stronger with each one. She swallowed, digging her nails into her palms until the skin broke.

Anger

"Nikita!"

Her head snapped up and Operations glared at her. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"I... yes," she stuttered nervously. The pain was gone, leaving nothing but a fading memory of emotions that hadn't been her own.

***

Of course Nikita hadn't listened to Operations, so she studied her PDA during the long flight to California.

The target's name was Max Harris, a hacker at the age of twenty-five. He had connections to several terrorist organisations and Section needed to copy his hard drive to obtain his list of contacts. Harris lived in a villa in Beverly Hills, with his twin sister Diana. They were orphans and had never been adopted, thus shared a very close bond. Diana was unaware of her brother's activities, thinking he headed a software company. The only way to get into the house was to gain Diana's trust, a mission Michael had already accomplished by seducing her.

Nikita rubbed her eyes. At least that explained his frequent absences. Another Valentine mission.

Michael knew the necessary codes to gain access to the room where Max's main computer was located. Max hardly ever left his room, but this evening his sister had organized a birthday party for the both of them: a perfect opportunity. Nikita and the rest of the team would be backup, pretending to be guests or members of the party service.

It seemed easy enough.

She switched off the PDA and stared at the azure ocean beneath her. So much water... you could quite easily drown in it…

Close your eyes and let yourself fall… just sink until it's too late and you give up your struggle, lose consciousness... What do you feel when you drown? Panic? The survival instinct inside of you screaming to fight, to swim to the surface, to open your mouth and gasp for air? Or some odd sense of peace, knowing that your fate was sealed?

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Nikita barely suppressed a sob. The pain was coming back again, slowly. And she could feel shades of emotions...

Nervousness, Boredom, Indifference...

She swallowed two painkillers and fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

Chapter 03 - Can't Be Sure

Watching Michael play the happy boyfriend made Nikita want to throw up.

Watching him smile, whisper, bestow gentle caresses, kiss someone else...

When Nikita had discovered his marriage to Elena, she'd pitied the other woman immensely. And in a way, she'd hated Michael for betraying Elena, for making her love him, for making her give birth to his child.

And, deep down, she'd hated him for lying to her. Again. She'd felt used, knowing she slept alone every night while he went home to his family.

But Nikita's feelings had changed after she'd seen Michael's grief. In the end, he'd suffered even more than Elena. She'd thought that he'd never be able to pull off another Valentine mission.

Seeing him now, seducing yet another woman...

Michael kissed Diana and said something to her. She nodded, smiled, and he disappeared into the villa.

"Michael's moving in," Birkoff announced over the com unit. Nikita saw Carter stepping next to Diana, beginning a conversation with her. Good. He'd distract her long enough for Michael to copy Max's list without anyone noticing it.

Nikita moved to her next mark and waited.

An hour later, she glanced impatiently at her watch. Apparently the computer kid had secured his system better than Birkoff had thought. Anyway, Diana would soon notice the absence of her lover.

"How long?" she muttered, melting into the shadows. She was supposed to be a employee of the party service, but didn't need any guests demanding fresh drinks right now.

A short pause. "Ten minutes." Birkoff sounded stressed. He'd had to guide Michael through the system and monitor the team.

Nikita looked at Diana, who stood nearby, talking with other guests. Suddenly a violent pain shot through her head and she had to lean against the wall for support.

Happiness, Boredom, Amusement...

She panted raggedly, trying to clear her head, trying to control the emotions that were invading her mind. It was useless. Her gaze wandered, finally focusing on Diana, who was still chatting amiably.

Love

The pain lessened and Nikita straightened her skirt nervously. This love she felt... new, fresh, unexperienced love... was it coming from Diana? She took a step forward, yearning to be part of that love. It seemed warm, inviting...

She stopped abruptly behind the other woman, becoming aware of what she was doing. Her eyes widened and her inner voice screamed to fight these strange feelings.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

But not before...

Concern

"Michael? I ­ I don't know… he's in the house, searching for something... I think I'll go look for him."

Diana was concerned. Because of Michael. With a clarity she hadn't had before, Nikita suddenly understood. These emotions... they belonged to other people. And Diana... she was concerned for Michael. Because she loved him.

Again Nikita wanted to throw up. The headache had faded into nothingness, but the nausea stayed.

Diana loved Michael. She had often asked herself what these women might feel for Michael... but to actually really feel the love, the pure love Diana held for him... it made Nikita want to cry. Michael would leave Diana after this evening. She'd never see him again… would be left with a broken heart. Because this love was the love you find very seldom in your life.

And he'd still have to leave her, unaware of the pain he'd caused.

Diana went into the house and Nikita saw her intention. She quickly grabbed a tray of glasses - full of champagne - and headed after her.

She found the other woman in the main hall, waiting for the elevator. Nikita inwardly snorted. This damn house was so big it had a freaking elevator.

She silently approached Diana from behind, balancing the tray carefully on one hand.

"Excuse me."

Diana flinched, hastily turning around, and Nikita managed to get Diana's elbow to collide with the tray, which caused it to slip, spilling all the champagne on Diana's expensive designer dress.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I - I didn't mean to do that... I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy. Here, let me help you..."

The brunette looked in shock at her ruined dress, then at Nikita who kneeled before her, having adopted the I'm-terribly-sorry-look perfectly as she picked up the remains of the glasses. She smiled meekly.

"It's okay. Just... just go, please."

Nikita was surprised. She'd expected an outburst, a hysterical fit, at least a scathing comment and the threat to be fired. Instead she got an 'It's okay'? She felt all the more miserable for Section messing with Diana's life. She seemed to be a sweet, caring woman. Still...

"C-can't I help you? I mean, perhaps if - if I hurry…"

"No. Just go."

Diana sounded impatient, and Nikita was happy to oblige, although pretending to be reluctant.

"You can send the bill to me... I promise, I'll pay for the damage..."

The dress had probably cost more than a waiter earned in a whole year, but that didn't matter.

Nikita hurried out of the hall, watching Diana staring at the mess of broken glass and spilled champagne, then heading for the nearest bathroom. She'd need more than ten minutes to change and be presentable again.

Breathing in deeply once she was outside again, Nikita was glad to have finished her job. But the question remained: How could she have felt other people's emotions? Why could she feel them?

She almost missed the announcement that the mission was successfully completed.

***

Chapter 04 - Summertime

After the debriefing and thousands of questions, Nikita was finally free to go. She stopped at Michael's office, intending to speak with him about her newfound 'ability'. She was about to enter, but hesitated.

The last time something had been wrong with her mental state, just a few weeks ago, Michael had played along with Section. He'd betrayed her, using her feelings for him for the sake of the mission. What if this was just another scenario Madeline had cooked up? Another experiment that needed to be tested?

She stepped back from the door, turned around and went in the direction of the elevators.

***

It was dark outside, a mild summer evening made for going out, and although Nikita wasn't in the mood, she found herself almost enjoying the people around her. They were happy, and why not? It was Saturday, it was summer... They had every right to be happy.

But she wished that she could be a part of that crowd, have friends, go to parties with them, laugh with them, have somebody who'd give her his sweater if the night got chilly.

That just wasn't meant to be. An in moments like these she truly felt like a ghost.

Nikita sighed. It was no good, brooding over things she couldn't change anyway. In an attempt to cheer herself up, she bought ice cream. Vanilla, banana, chocolate... it melted in her mouth, its cool sweetness running down her throat. She'd always loved ice cream. As a kid she'd stand in the ice cream parlor for hours, staring at the different flavors until the shop owner got angry and kicked her out.

She slowly made her way home, the last few days and occurrences momentarily forgotten.

Until...

The pain hit as suddenly as the last time, catching Nikita totally unprepared. She couldn't suppress a short cry and let the wafer fall, clutching her head. She'd closed her eyes, but she could strangely feel some people staring at her.

She could feel their emotions...

Indifference, Pity, Wonder...

There were too many of them, too many people, too many emotions. The throbbing pain got stronger and stronger until Nikita thought that her head might burst. She dimly registered a woman asking her: "Are you all right?"

She couldn't answer, couldn't seem to form the words. The woman came nearer, touching her bare arm, and Nikita jumped back as if she'd been burned. The touch had sent her reeling, the intruding emotions only intensified because of it.

Surprise

Pity

Concern

She managed to look up and smiled shakily. Her voiced sounded unsteady, and she had to force every single word out of her mouth.

"Yes... I'm fine, I just get these headaches sometimes..."

Nikita almost panicked. Another bunch of people were coming nearer, about fifteen of them, and she could already feel their emotions reaching the edge of her consciousness. The pain flared up again and, ignoring the woman before her completely, she began to flee in the opposite direction.

***

Nikita entered her apartment three hours later, exhausted. Her clothes were dirty; during her flight she'd stumbled once or twice and fallen to the ground, but the details were fuzzy. She'd run like a hunted animal, the only thing in her mind being the escape from the pain. When the throbbing in her head had subsided and she could think clearly, Nikita had found herself crouching in a deserted alley, far away from the safety of her home.

Her face was swollen and hurt from tears, tears she hadn't realized she'd cried until she'd touched her cheeks and noticed the wetness of her fingertips. Why had she cried?

Now the emotions were gone, as well as the pain, although not completely. If Nikita concentrated she could still feel them, whispering, waiting to strike again...

The brightness of her room hurt her eyes. She quickly went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

There, the pain advanced again... Nikita hastily swallowed two painkillers and a sleeping pill, left her clothes in a heap on the floor, and fell on the bed to find peace in unconsciousness at last.

***

Chapter 05 - Blood on My Hands

Nikita dreamed.

An apartment. White, empty. Hers. Once full of life, now dead. A man. Blue eyes, brown hair. Her husband.

Anger

(How could you do this to me?)

A room. No windows, no door, black. Yellow eyes in the darkness.

Fear

(Mommy?)

A woman. Tall, lithe, beautiful. Raven black hair, sparkling green eyes.

Desire

(I want you.)

A house, a villa. A boat, a Porsche. All hers.

Greediness

(Mine.)

Not her dream. Strange dreams, strange emotions, not hers, not dreamed by her, not felt by her.

And then the phone rang.

***

Nikita sat up slowly, still dizzy from sleep and grabbed for the cell phone on the nightstand.

"Yeah?"

"Josephine."

Click. She stared at the tiny phone in her hand, then at the clock ­ 5:00 AM ­ and wanted to throw both things against the wall. She had one hell of a headache and she felt sick. And now there were exactly thirty minutes for a shower, breakfast, and her way to Section.

***

It was cold. Nikita shivered despite the thick jacket and clutched her gun firmly in her hands. In the building before her everything seemed quiet. The order to move in would come any minute.

Easy mission. Go in, find the hostage, free the hostage and get out. Piece of cake.

Michael's voice sounded in her ear. "He should be on the second floor. An exact position is unavailable. Team One, free Parker. The rest, secure the area. Go."

She rose, ran to the door in front of her, and kicked it open. The guards who stood behind it didn't have time to react before she shot them. She could hear the team right behind her and was somehow reassured. Soon...

The second floor consisted only of offices, and they silently searched through them. Nothing. Nikita went to the end of the floor and kicked the last door open. Gotcha. In the middle of the room was Parker, bound to a chair and gagged. He'd been beaten, repeatedly, and his face was bloody. She raised her gun to shoot…

Everything happened too fast.

Her mind was attacked again, the pain excruciating. Nikita could suddenly feel Parker's emotions, her world blurred and she almost lost her balance.

Confusion

Relief

Suffering

Pain

And then nothing.

The two men in the room had killed Parker. The pain and emotions disappeared and she quickly fired two times. They fell lifelessly to the ground. Nikita blinked and breathed out. She stepped into the room and checked Parker's pulse, although she was sure there was none.

"What happened? Report!"

At first she couldn't answer Michael's question. She lowered her head and sighed.

"Parker's dead."

***

"Nikita, my office."

She cringed when Michael spoke those words. That could only mean he'd watched the mission tapes. She swallowed and followed him.

"Sit down."

The chair seemed... dangerous, somehow and all Nikita wanted to do was to run. She didn't want to face Michael, not now, when the pain and the suffering were still fresh in her mind and made her feel all the more guilty.

Michael spoke with a controlled voice, yet she had little doubt that he was angry; very angry. Andreas Parker had been one of their most valuable informants, and they'd need much time to rectify the damage she'd caused.

"Why didn't you cancel them in time? You had more than two seconds after entering the room, yet you didn't shoot them."

Shit. Nikita frantically searched for a believable explanation but came up with none. What was there to explain? She couldn't tell him that she'd felt Parker's emotions, which came along with a skull-splitting headache. Could she?

"I'm waiting, Nikita."

"I - I," she stuttered. "One of them, he looked like one of my old friends and… and I was distracted and couldn't react immediately. I'm sorry."

Yeah, as if he believed that.

"You're sorry."

Any other operative or team leader would have locked her up in the white room by now, or at least yelled at her. Not Michael. Never Michael.

"Yes. Look, can I go now?"

Nikita stood up and prayed that her cool façade wasn't crumbling, because she was sure she'd felt tears in her eyes. She seemed to cry a lot these days.

"Yes."

Relieved, she turned around and had already opened the door when she hesitated. She took a deep breath.

"Is there anything else?" Michael sounded impatient now.

Michael, I'm so sorry, but I'm about to break down and I feel all these strange things and it hurts just so much and I can't do anything cause it's so sudden and I don't know what to do...

Ice blue eyes met green ones.

"No. Nothing," Nikita whispered, as she quietly closed the door.

***

Chapter 06 - You're Not the Only One I Know

As she walked through the main hall, Nikita saw Walter standing at his work bench. He was checking mission equipment and she stopped.

Perhaps he could help her...

Or perhaps not.

But she needed help, that was clear. It was just a question of time until she botched the next mission and Madeline found out everything. And then she'd either be cancelled or used as a guinea pig.

Neither thought was appealing.

"Hi, Walter."

The older man greeted her back, still leaning over a damaged kevlar west. "Hi sugar."

"Did you hear about the mission?" Nikita asked.

"Yeah. But hey, don't worry, that happens once in a while."

She touched Walter's arm and he looked up. Nikita's eyes were wide, and he could see that something was wrong, very wrong.

She slowly licked her lips. "I need your help."

Walter laid the vest on the table. "What kind of help?"

Glancing around nervously, she could see Operations standing in his perch, glaring down at them.

"Not here. Can you meet me tonight?"

"A date? Sugar, I'd almost given up hope..." Walter joked, but Nikita didn't smile, just lowered her gaze.

"Sure. When and where?"

***

Nikita sipped slowly at her Sprite, not really thirsty. She glanced at her watch, looked up and checked the time again.

10:00 PM.

She sighed and leaned back. The smell of greasy hamburgers and French fries made her sick but after all, it had been her idea to meet Walter at a McDonald's.

She watched as the crushed ice in the Sprite melted slowly, became water and mingled with the too-sweet drink. A radio played some new hit she couldn't stand, and at the table next to her, a couple were kissing.

Nikita's stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday… the ice cream she'd bought and then dropped on the pavement. It had tasted sweet, too. She looked at her watch again.

10:01. Damn.

Walter was supposed to meet her at 10:00. She was nervous already. What if he didn't come at all? If he didn't believe her? If he couldn't help her? If he didn't want to help her?

That was ridiculous. Of course he'd help, he was Walter, he was her friend. Wasn't he?

Nikita quickly emptied the Sprite and stood up. She'd wait outside.

***

10:05 PM.

"Hi."

She hastily turned around and raised her hands in a defensive position, ready to attack. Nikita breathed out, relieved as she saw that it was indeed Walter. She smiled shakily.

"Hi. Thanks... thanks for coming."

"Anytime. Why don't we go inside?"

She shook her head. "I like it better out here. C'mon, let's walk for a while."

Walter looked surprised but didn't comment on Nikita's obvious uneasiness. Instead he walked quietly next to his silent friend.

By the time they'd reached a small park, deserted at this time of day, she still hadn't decided how to tell him. Her irrational fear that he'd just laugh at her grew and Nikita wanted to run away. Walter must have noticed her nervousness because he took her ice cold hand, led her to a nearby bench, and they sat down.

"What do you want to tell me?" he urged gently.

She just looked at him, then at her hands. There was a cut on her left pinky, small, almost healed. Nikita's whisper was soft, almost inaudible.

"I... I can feel emotions."

"Oh." Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it. "But, sugar... everybody does. It's normal."

"No. No, you don't understand. I can feel other people's emotions, I kind of sense them, as if they're my own. And - and I can't control it, it comes too suddenly, and it just hurts so much, Walter..."

Nikita had started to cry, and all he could do was to stare at her, too confused to react.

"You don't - believe me, do you?"

Walter opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I didn't understand what was wrong with me... one moment, I'm fine, and then I get this headache and it hurts and I can't say anything… and I can feel the emotions around me. Everything... when… when I found Parker..."

She trailed off and swallowed.

"I felt his pain. I could feel that he was shot in the right kneecap and that they'd beaten him and that he suffered. But I felt his relief. He was relieved that I'd finally come... somebody to help him and then… nothing… there was nothing… and they'd killed him… and all I did was watch... and… and I didn't help him… and he'd still be alive if I hadn't hesitated..."

Walter drew a sobbing Nikita into the circle of his arms and held her. In the end, it was all he could do.

***

It was long past midnight when Walter opened the door to Nikita's apartment.

He was exhausted. He'd had a long day at Section, then he'd comforted Nikita while she'd told him everything, beginning with the briefing for the Harris mission until the disaster today. Finally, he almost had to carry her home.

"Hey, Nikita, you're home."

She barely reacted, only nodded and sank down on the couch. Nikita had spent all her energy and now she was simply tired - tired from the lack of sleep, the mission, the emotional pressure.

Switching on the lights, Walter blinked against the brightness.

"Have you got something so I can draw your blood?"

"Don't know," she mumbled, almost asleep.

Walter sighed, seeing that it was pointless. Well, he'd do it the next day.

"Sugar, you come see me tomorrow. First thing you do, okay?"

"'K."

He took her shoes off, got a blanket from her bed and covered her with it. With a last look at her still, sleeping form, Walter switched off the light and left the dark apartment.

***

Chapter 07 - So Much

When Nikita awoke the next morning, she felt groggy. Her eyes were gritty and hurt, and her head seemed to throb. She'd had the dreams again... other people's dreams… and their nightmares.

She staggered into the shower and turned on the water. Her body seemed to shake, and not even the hot water could warm her, could wash away the coldness from within. Nikita waited, nevertheless, until the water got cold before she left the shower. She strained her ears. Wasn't the phone ringing? She opened the door and ran down the stairs. Yes, her cell phone beeped, and she began to shake anew. Couldn't they let her have one day for herself? She stepped back, away from the beeping, slowly retreating to the bathroom.

The pain was already waiting for her.

Hot, scalding pain, merciless, unexpected, worse than ever before.

Nikita stumbled over the stairs, lost her balance, and fell to the floor. She didn't even notice. All she noticed was the pain, and the emotions flooding her mind.

Weariness Lust Boredom

Hate Anger Love

Contentment Fear Happiness

Compassion Ruthlessness Indifference

Pain

"Stop! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!"

The screams were raw and hoarse. Did she scream? Was that her? The beeping - what was that beeping? It seemed to live inside her - what was that sound?- continued. It got louder and louder until it consumed her completely, swallowed her up... only this sound existed. This sound and the pain. And suddenly - It stopped.

Nikita began to sob heavily. She couldn't go on like this, couldn't live with the pain, couldn't fight it, couldn't control it. The tears burned in her sensitive eyes and she curled up on the hard floor, naked; all her defenses were down and in this moment she truly wanted to die. Just in this moment.

The phone still rang.

***

Half an hour later Nikita entered Section, impeccably dressed in black, her wet hair in a low ponytail, wearing dark sunglasses to protect her eyes from the brightness. She was probably late, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

When you were about to go insane, most things lost importance.

The briefing hadn't begun yet, and she slipped on the chair next to Walter. He gave her a concerned look, and she forced a smile.

"I... couldn't make it earlier. Sorry. Can we do it later?"

He nodded. "After the mission. What do you say I come over, sugar?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay."

Sometimes Nikita asked herself if she realized that every mission could be her last. Operatives died every day; she could be killed so easily, every day, and yet she was making plans for "later". How would it be if Walter waited in vain for her? What if he glanced at his watch time and again? If he went to Section the next morning and casually asked about the mission? If Madeline told him with a smile that it had been successful - only one loss? If the loss was her?

She swallowed and was almost happy when Operations arrived.

***

"Nikita?"

No.

"Yes?"

Michael approached and Nikita groaned inwardly. After she'd finally picked up the phone this morning he'd sounded like he always did. But she knew him. She knew that he'd ask her about the call. She sighed. Three, two, one...

"Why didn't you pick up the phone?"

"I did pick up the phone," Nikita reminded him crossly, not really in the mood for his questions. She'd been there on time! Why didn't he just drop it?

"What took you so long?"

I was screaming in pain because I felt all emotions one can feel.

"Michael, I was in the shower. Y'know, the thing you do to get clean? I didn't hear it."

It was probably not smart to piss him off right now, so soon after the disaster of the last mission, but he just got on her nerves. Nikita smirked, turned around and left him standing in the main hall.

~~~

"What the hell happened?"

Operations was angry, Nikita could tell. Not that she could blame him. Two failed missions in row. Two missions Michael had profiled and led. Two missions she had botched. But he didn't know that. She lowered her gaze.

Michael stayed calm. " The resistance was stronger than expected. We couldn't reach him in time."

"This is unacceptable! Michael, my office!" The older man hissed and stalked away.

She wouldn't want to trade places with Michael. No, not for the world.

~~~

The doorbell rang.

Nikita looked at her bare stomach, then at the door, and grimaced. She rose, put on a tee shirt and was about to open the door when she hesitated. It was most probably Walter - but perhaps not. She switched on the video camera. It was Walter.

"Hi."

"Hey sugar," Walter stepped in. He carried a small bag containing some syringes, and a bottle of wine which he gave to Nikita. At her puzzled look, he explained. "Thought you might need something to lighten up the mood."

Nikita winced as she sat on the couch. "I'll need it. Can you please help me with this?"

She lifted the shirt and Walter gasped. Across her belly was a long, angry red gash.

***

Chapter 08 - Life & Soul

"Sugar? Where did you get that?"

Walter rushed over and kneeled before her. The wound looked worse than it actually was - it wasn't too deep, not deep enough to dause any serious damage or to need stitches, but it was long and had to hurt like hell.

"On... on the mission. We fought and he... he had a knife."

"I can see that. Here..."

He took the bandage out of her hands and began to wrap it carefully around her belly. Nikita hissed and bit on her lower lip.

"Why didn't you go to Med Lab?"

"I couldn't risk it. If they found something in my blood, I would've ended up as a guinea pig."

Walter sighed. "Yeah. And instead you decided to run around with that for the whole day. You're lucky it's not infected. Here, take these."

Nikita looked at the little white pills on Walter's outstretched palm. "What's this?"

"Painkillers, special edition. I brought them for your head, but they're useful for everything. With these babies you won't even notice the pain for at least twenty-four hours. I think."

Rising, she fetched a glass of water. Nikita swallowed the pills, gulped down the water and smiled. "Thanks. Were did you get them?"

"You don't want to know. But be careful, they're not fully... developed yet and if you take too many there might be some rather unpleasant side effects. Nausea is one of them, tiredness another. You shouldn't have any problems sleeping tonight. So, what happened on the mission. Operations was pretty livid."

"It was my fault," Nikita whispered. "Again. We... we had to get him… I don't remember his name… and his laptop with the intel. Anyway, I almost had him when his bodyguard attacked me. And I - I was too slow. He got me there," she pointed to her stomach, "and I was distracted. By the time the backup team arrived, he'd escaped. I followed him, but he was gone. I screwed up and it's all blamed on Michael. His profile was fine… but… I just - I wasn't."

He sat on the couch next to her, not quite sure how to react. "Didn't the profile say that the target was unguarded? You couldn't know that he had a guard. Michael should have anticipated it, that's his job."

"It's mine, too! Walter, I wasn't prepared. I hardly read the profile. I picked almost no weapons and I was too slow! I - I didn't really concentrate and now Michael's in trouble because of me."

"But you didn't have the best week. You were captured by Red Cell, drugged by them…"

"You think they did this to me?" Nikita interrupted him.

Walter nodded. "Hell, yeah. It makes sense, doesn't it? They didn't harm you in any way, or interrogate you. No, they locked you up and injected you with something. You were probably used for one of their tests. You said the first time you got these... headaches was during the briefing for the Harris mission, right?"

"Yes... but I didn't feel so much pain then… more… emotions. I - I don't know why. I don't know anything," she finished bitterly.

"Hey. I'll draw your blood now, then you'll sleep and tomorrow it'll be better. Okay?"

"Okay."

~~~

"Good morning, Nikita."

"Good morning. You wanted to see me?" Nikita asked and sat down.

Madeline smiled. "Yes. I have a few questions regarding your last mission."

"But I already debriefed yesterday."

"I know. Nikita, did Michael say anything about Mayamo having bodyguards?"

She hesitated for the split of a second before answering. Tell the truth or lie for him? He hadn't said anything, and there'd been nothing in the profile. But if she told that Madeline, it would reflect back on him. On the other hand, he had no problems lying to her...

But he protected you, a tiny voice whispered. He saved you.

Could it be just another mind game? Just another trick? What if they'd deliberately kept information from Michael so the mission failed?… then interrogate his team members, to see thom whom they were loyal to?

Truth or lie, Nikita?

Truth or lie?

Truth or...

Lie?

Lie?

Truth.

"No. He said that Mayamo was currently unguarded. There wasn't any resistance expected." Her voice sounded smooth, calm...

Was this betrayal?

I'm sorry, Michael.

"Thanks, Nikita. You can go now."

So sorry.