Janet was surprised it had taken so long; Karl had been back a whole six hours before he came barging into her office with his self-righteous wrath.

"You killed them!" Karl thundered upon entering.

There was no point in responding; he hadn't bothered to ask a question.

"What were you thinking? Were you thinking? This could jeopardize everything! We've worked so hard, then you go and throw it all away - why? Because he wouldn't sleep with you anymore or something?" He waited.

He was waiting for an answer to his latest question - she was somewhat amused. "I'm not quite so pedestrian."

Karl seemed quite pleased with her reply; she didn't waste time wondering why.

"You had him killed though?" He paused long enough for her to acknowledge his question with a nod of her head. He sighed loudly. "Janet, what the hell is wrong with you? We needed him; we needed Scott and Mentz as well, I'm guessing they weren't just caught in the crossfire. Why?" His tone was positively whiny.

"Their deaths will help not hinder our efforts." Janet kept her own tone neutral.

Karl looked doubtful.

She repressed her desire to shoot him in the head, deciding it probably wouldn't do him the least bit of harm. "Red Cell will certainly go to war now."

"With us," he moaned.

It's official! I am surrounded by morons.

"They will blame Section."

"What makes you so sure?" A child's challenge.

Why do I bother?

"Ad tristem partem strenua est suspicio - one is keen to suspect a quarter from which one has once received hurt," Janet lectured.

He disliked such responses and became more agitated. "How can you be sure this will work in our favor?"

"Because we can control the outcome." She smiled brightly, picturing Karl six feet under.

He gave her a vacant look in return. "Since when?"

"Our assistance has been requested." She spoke to him like she would a four-year old.

I really don't like children.

"By whom?" He'd plastered on his confused expression.

Janet was getting tired of his whiny tone. "Red Cell."

"How did they even find out about us?" He looked at her accusingly.

Stupidity breeds contempt.

"Either Scott told them or Andrew did."

"Andrew?" The vacant expression again.

She smiled. "Scott put them in touch."

"How long?" Now he was worried.

"Not long enough to matter." Janet waved a hand in a dismissive manner.

"How much do they know?"

Like a dog with a bone.

She sighed. "Little, and nothing important." If he were punishment for misdeeds in a former life, she had to have done something truly deplorable.

Karl nodded, looking thoughtful. "This will affect the timetable."

It was doubtful he'd be winning a Nobel Prize anytime soon.

"We are ready." Janet assured him.

Karl began to pace - he seemed to find it easier to think while marching in a rhythm. "It's risky. The odds aren't in our favor."

"Then lets improve the odds," Janet said standing. She wondered briefly if idiocy might be contagious.

"How?"

"Patience is a virtue." She grinned, feeling anything but cheerful.

"Don't start that shit. I need to know." He came to stand in front of her.

Looking deeply into his eyes, Janet smiled brightly. "I have a meeting." She could smell the sickly sweetness of his cologne.

"Janet." Karl reached out, his hand briefly caressing her cheek before coming to rest on her shoulder.

If stupidity were contagious, her I.Q. would surely drop a few points with the contact. "I have a meeting," she repeated.

He sighed deeply - a sad expression claimed his features.

Not this again.

Janet shrugged off his hand, turned and walked out of the room, leaving Karl alone with his thoughts.

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

She'd been given eight weeks, used seven and was still no closer to finding him. If she didn't locate him soon, Jasmine was certain to be headed to Abeyance - if not cancellation. She hadn't expected it to be easy, but she hadn't expected it to be quite so difficult either; Jasmine had hit so many dead ends it was a wonder she didn't have a concussion. Michael and his son had disappeared - it was as though they had never existed.

"Anything promising?" she asked Mitchell, for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

He sighed, running a giant hand through his shaggy hair. "More of the same - a few possible."

Better than nothing.

"Well?" She was impatient.

"Guy in France rescued some people from a fire, didn't want publicity. A guy in hospital in Germany, lots of scars and no memory of how he came by them. Three contacts swear they saw Michael in three separate states in America. Another four contacts insist he's in various countries in Europe. One claims Michael is living in Australia. And then we have the contact who watched Adam play soccer in New Hampshire - USA."

"Right. No doubt our most reliable contacts. What are the other sources like?" She dreaded the answer.

"Doctor at the German hospital and the other I got from the net." He grinned sheepishly.

"Uh-huh." Abeyance here I come! "We'll check them all out."

Her phone started ringing; she answered on the fourth ring, "Yes?"

"Report," Operations' cool voice ordered.

Perfect timing.

"We have a few leads, we are following them up."

"You haven't found him." Operations sounded disappointed.

"No, but it..."

Operations cut her off. "I don't need to hear excuses."

Jasmine repressed a sigh. "Right."

"Do I need to remind you of how important this mission is?" Operations asked.

Jasmine was prompt to respond, "No, Ma'am."

"Get it done."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jasmine said to the dial tone. She felt drained of energy. She turned to find Mitchell staring at her, curiosity burning in his eyes. "Operations is not impressed with our lack of progress," she told him.

"What does she expect?" Simon announced himself by asking.

Jasmine was sick of Simon; for the last week all he'd done was criticize Operations and make a general nuisance of himself.

"I'm sorry?" she replied acidly.

"What does she expect?" He willfully misinterpreted her.

"I'm not deaf. What did you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Jasmine remained silent.

"Michael's a pro, if he doesn't want to be found we are not going to find him." Simon explained.

"Your point?" Maintaining her control was difficult.

He shrugged. "I just made it. This is a waste of time. Why are we searching for her old boyfriend anyhow?"

He's probably right. "We follow our orders."

"Whatever." Simon sat down next to Mitchell.

"Go get packed you're going to check out some leads here in Europe," she said, her tone now harsh.

Simon stood. "Yes, Ma'am."

"You'll get an ID and report back; you will not engage, you will not expose yourself. Got it?"

Simon grinned. "I'm not to expose myself, yep, got it."

"Cassidy will be going with you," Jasmine continued.

"Always a pleasure to work with a beautiful woman." Simon winked at Mitchell and then left the room.

He'll be the death of me.

Jasmine sighed. "Lore and I will check out the sightings stateside," she told Mitchell.

Mitchell mumbled an acknowledgement, keeping his head down in order to hide a smile.

******

Winter was fast approaching; the leaves on the surrounding trees a collection of red and golden hews. The air was crisp. Michael stood leaning against a tall oak, watching Adam play soccer with a couple of friends nearby. It was slightly cold in the shadow of the tree, but some habits died hard and Michael would always choose shadows over the warming sun.

Lately he had become more relaxed - less observant - more the father and less the operative; but he would always be cautious, some part of him forever on alert. He swept his eyes over the surrounding area, his custom every five to ten minutes, and was shocked by the sight of her.

He hadn't seen her enter the park, nor had he seen her take a seat on the bench nearby. But there she was, sitting on a bench not ten yards away from him - somehow managing to make her black pants suit look casual, even with the matching black scarf and dark FBI style glasses.

She didn't belong, and yet, to the average observer she would not have seemed out of place. Michael probably would have dismissed her himself had she not seemed to be staring directly at him. Her attention captured his.

Shivers traveled up his spine, he scanned the park, looking for other operatives, but was unable to detect any and unnerved because of it. He brought his eyes back to her, she no longer seemed to be looking in his direction, but Michael couldn't be sure. She seemed to be waiting for something - Michael suspected that something was himself.

He looked back towards the impromptu soccer game - Adam was still there - then closed the distance between the strangely familiar woman and himself. She didn't turn in his direction, but when he was within a few feet she spoke.

"You were much too easy to find Michael."

He had thought she was familiar before but when he heard the voice, Michael knew. "Janet."

Janet turned her face towards him and slowly reached a hand up to remove her glasses. Green eyes met green. "I'm touched you remember." She smiled warmly, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"I was unlikely to forget." Sixteen years on, Michael remembered it like yesterday. One of his first missions; one of his first mistakes. Michael forced himself to smile back at her and closed the small distance to bestow the expected quick kiss on each cheek. He then sat down beside her, turning his eyes once more to watch Adam.

"Section is looking for you." Her glaze wandered the park in the deliberately casual way of one well trained.

Michael considered her words for a few moments. "Purpose?"

A wan smile. "Recruitment."

"Who?" Michael had a sinking suspicion he knew the answer.

"Operations."

Janet spoke the name with little - if any - emotion, but that did not lessen its effect on Michael. It was as though she had kicked him in the solar plexus. He watched as Adam kicked the soccer ball from one end of the field to the other, happily unaware that his world was about to be wrenched out from under him.

Again.

Michael's limbs felt heavy. "Why?"

"She requires a second, you are the most qualified." Janet's eyes continued their survey, while her words continued their assault.

"Why now?" His voice seemed unusually calm to his ears.

Would Nikita really do such a thing?

"Pressure from above." Janet told him.

"Reason?"

Who is this emotionless robot managing to ask such questions in that calm, clear voice?

"Lack of confidence in Operations' abilities," she calmly informed him.

Michael turned to face Janet, tracing every line of her face for any indication that what she was saying wasn't true. It was a wasted effort and it didn't really matter; he was already convinced. "How long do I have?" His voice broke.

On some level he had always expected the day would come, but just because Nikita's betrayal was expected didn't make it any less painful. He felt as though Nikita had stabbed him in the heart.

"Two days at the most." Janet turned and met his eyes.

"What are you offering?" Michael knew her well enough to know she hadn't come all this way just to give him a warning.

"Payment."

A single word can communicate so much.

His eyes found Adam.

He would never understand; I would never forgive myself. I cannot go back.

He nodded once.

Janet indicated the continuing game. "We don't need to leave straight away; he can play a little longer."

Michael didn't reply.

They watched his son play soccer in the dreary Park that only an hour before had seemed so beautiful to Michael's eyes.

******

"He's gone," Jasmine announced in a tired voice.

"Then he was there?" Nikita didn't bother keeping the impatience from her own.

"Yes, not two days ago," Jasmine confirmed.

"Any indication of where he went?"

"Negative." Jasmine sounded defeated.

"Any indication that he knew we were coming?" Nikita prodded.

Jasmine sighed. "He's not here."

"Return to Section," Nikita ordered in a cold tone.

"You don't want us to..."

She cut Jasmine off. "You're not going to find him. Come in."

"On our way."

Nikita ended the transmission by banging her hand hard against the console - a sharp, biting pain traveled up the length of her arm.

"Damn him," she said angrily.

Michael had deserted her yet again. She felt betrayed. She felt an overwhelming need to break something, to tear the world apart with her bare hands. Michael had to know she would never break her promise unless it was absolutely necessary.

Section needs him - I need him - and he's run away.

Away from Section, away from her - Nikita hated him for his cowardice. She had given so much and asked so little; how could he abandon her in her time of need? How could he do this to her? How could he be so selfish, so uncaring - so Michael.

"Just like old times." She laughed bitterly.

There was no point in raging about it; no sense in wasting her energy screaming about the injustice of it all, weeping over his betrayal. There was too much to do for her to indulge in such luxuries as temper tantrums, not when necessities such as sleep were difficult to accommodate.

Michael was gone and she had work to do.

Nikita had a briefing in an hour, a report to complete that Oversight needed yesterday, two active missions she was supposed to be monitoring, a failed mission she had to investigate, a dozen reports that had needed her attention for over a month - and more arriving every hour. She had proposals to consider - to approve or refuse and, thanks to Michael's disappearing act, she now had to find a Second-In-Command.

Nikita had no time to rage, no time to weep. She had to work.

That is what Nikita did. She reviewed the failed mission, sent the profiler to Abeyance and would have marked the team leader for cancellation had he not died during the mission. She read over two proposals - rejecting both, briefed the team on the new mission, kept one eye on the missions in progress and managed to review 11 of the 12 reports that had been waiting a month - plus four that had arrived within the month. Nikita even managed to draw up a list of four possible candidates for her Second.

Nine hours later - twenty-one hours since her day began - her eyes were closing despite her best efforts; Nikita knew she should call it a day. But that one report remained - it was last for a reason.

Nikita opened the file and scanned it quickly. She already knew what it said, Quinn had given an oral account - somehow it was more real in print.

I was wrong.

It hadn't been Janet. It was a group called Black Order - in Section's systems for over twenty years - and no one had considered them a threat.

Not exactly no one.

Someone had gone to the trouble of wiping the organization off the face of the planet, and they did it using Section methods. Someone wanted Section to be blamed; someone didn't want to be noticed. Immediately Nikita thought of Janet, but then dismissed the idea.

The woman cannot be everywhere at once - Janet isn't responsible for everything.

Black Order had previous run-ins with Red Cell, but no one else - they knew of. Section had dealt Red Cell an almost fatal blow a few years back; Nikita doubted they had recovered enough to manage something of that scale. It was a mystery, one they needed to solve.

You're not going to solve it tonight.

Nikita closed the file, logged off and left the Perch for the tangle of her sheets.

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

The car slowed in front of a three-story homestead, neither ostentatious nor pedestrian in nature. It had a classic elegance, difficult to achieve without a great deal of money - Michael was impressed.

When the car stopped, the door was immediately opened; an elderly gentleman then offered his hand to assist Janet in exiting. Michael supposed he and Adam were on their own as the man took up position by the car door as soon as she was on her feet.

Janet didn't bother waiting for them to follow; instead she marched up the steps and straight into the house as though just remembering something of importance. He was only too aware that the most pressing thing on her mind was to get away from Adam before she shot him in the head.

Janet disliked children; Adam was not an exception. Unfortunately, from the moment Adam laid eyes on her he adored her. On the plane he had insisted on sitting next to her, talking her ear off for the entire flight. When they had moved to the hotel, she had barricaded herself in her room at first, citing business as an excuse to avoid them. Adam had whined the entire time that she was absent. Continuously wanting to know where she was, what she was doing and how much longer she would be doing it.

When Janet finally appeared - two full days later - Adam had clung to her like a leech. For the three weeks it had taken them to complete their journey, Adam had been her shadow. Michael had never seen him behave in this manner. Adam didn't normally accept people so quickly, nor was he inclined to smothering someone with his attention, especially someone that was so little inclined to accept it.

Though it made him uneasy that his son would choose to associate with the likes of Janet, Michael had welcomed the distraction Adam's behavior provided. It allowed him to forget, for a few moments at least, the reason for their journey.

Michael exited the vehicle, and with Adam following close behind, climbed the steps and entered the house through the doors Janet had left open.

A man stood just inside the doorway. Michael completed a quick evaluation: The man had the eyes of a killer; muscles strained against the material of his expensive suit.

The man offered a large bronzed hand in greeting. "Welcome. I'm Daniel."

Michael shook Daniel's hand. "Michael. This is Adam." He pushed his son forward.

Daniel shook Adam's hand. "Janet requests your company in her office Michael. I'll show Adam around the house."

Michael nodded his agreement.

"Very good," Daniel said. "Di will direct you," he informed Michael before leading off a reluctant Adam.

"If you'll come this way."

Michael turned quickly. He hadn't heard the woman enter the room. I'm slipping.

The woman smiled reassuringly. "I'm Di. Janet sent me to get you."

"Yes," Michael said, mask firmly in place.

Di's smile widened. She turned and began walking at a brisk pace. Di led him through the house to the east wing and stopped before a large oak door. "She's waiting for you," she said and then left him, disappearing into the depths of the house.

Michael opened the door and entered.

Janet was on the phone, she raised one hand in greeting and continued her conversation. "I don't see how that's my problem...no?...I really don't think so...yes, he is?...you can't do it?...I don't want to hear excuses!...like I said...you have till Friday...Friday, goodbye." She hung up. "Michael, have a seat."

"You wanted to see me?" he opened.

"Yes, I've some good news for you. Section won't be bothering you anymore," Janet announced.

"For now," Michael amended.

"For good."

For good? He raised an eyebrow in query.

"Red Cell is about to destroy them, so they won't be bothering anyone anymore." Janet smiled.

"Source?"

"I consider it to be very reliable information." She appeared amused.

"Is Section aware of the threat?" If Nikita knew...

Janet laughed softly. "If they were aware of it, they might survive to be a problem." She considered him. "You want to warn them."

"Yes."

"Even when you know their demise will guarantee your freedom?" She looked at him curiously.

At such a cost? "Yes," Michael restated simply.

"How very noble of you. You are my guest Michael and you will be treated as such. You are free to do whatever you wish, but I'd advise against interfering with my plans."

Michael paused a moment, containing his anger by biting down on his tongue. "Is Red Cell's destruction of Section a part of your plans?"

Janet smiled, saying nothing at first. "I could make it work for me."

"I would like to warn them." He held her gaze.

She sighed. "Do as you like."

Michael didn't respond.

"Make my job harder, why don't you." Janet grinned widely.

Michael doubted he knew a person he liked less.

******

There simply weren't enough hours in the day.

The appointment of a Second-In-Command should have lessened Nikita's workload but it hadn't - it had increased it. She now had to make time in her day to correct his mistakes.

He - Jacob, a transfer from Section Two - wasn't adapting as quickly as Nikita had hoped. He was improving and in time he would be a competent second for her, but she needed one now. Nikita couldn't continue doing his work as well as hers; things were getting missed and the success rate was slipping.

If Jacob didn't improve quickly she would have to request help from Oversight - that Nikita didn't want to do. Oversight was impatient of late; she believed they were looking for a reason to replace her - she didn't want to give them a reason. She needed to hold on; she had to find the strength to continue. If NIkita didn't, Janet's victory would be assured - that she wasn't going to allow.

Paul had it easy.

If Nikita had a Second like Madeline, she'd be on 93% too, if she had Michael...she's dead and he may as well be - stop thinking about it, you've work to do.

I'm tired. So very tired. Nikita wanted to lie down and never get up again - give up and let the world take care of itself, only it wouldn't and she couldn't. She got to work.

Nikita was an hour into the jumble of "paperwork" when she noticed the message; she recognized the code at once. Michael. She opened the files; eager to discover what he had sent to her, perhaps he wasn't going to desert her.

At first Nikita thought it was his idea of a sick joke, but then she remembered Michael didn't have a sense of humor. She scanned the information; it was real, it was happening. She had to act - fast.

Nikita grabbed her cell phone placing a call at the same time she hit the connection to Comm. "Any missions graded below level two are hereby cancelled," she told them as a voice sounded in her ear.

"Yes." Quinn sounded groggy.

Ignoring the puzzled looks she was getting from the operatives below her, she said, "Jennifer. Come in."

"I'll be there in twenty," Quinn replied.

"Be here in ten," Nikita snapped and cut the connection. Turning her attention back to Comm. "Quinn is on her way - call everyone else in and send someone to wake up Jacob," she instructed them.

They didn't move.

"NOW!" Nikita thundered.

They flew into action. Five minutes later, a scruffy Jacob entered the Perch.

"Red Cell is readying an attack; we are going to take them out first. Get together with the relevant department heads and whoever else you need, I want a profile in three hours," she handed him a PDA onto which she'd downloaded the information.

Jacob scanned it quickly. "Is this accurate?"

"I believe so - now get to work."

He was quick to comply.

We need to move quickly. Section had a window of opportunity, but it could close at any time. If they missed their chance, Red Cell would succeed.

Over my dead body!

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

She'd gotten unbelievably lucky at the worst possible time. Somebody up there had it in for him, Curtis was sure. There was now no chance Butler and Mendoza would vote for Nikita's removal - she had destroyed Red Cell.

Butler had already called to inform him of his change of heart.

"We can't very well replace her now, can we?" Butler had said. "I'm sure you agree," he went on to add.

Butler was wrong - Curtis didn't agree and he never would.

It was a fluke. A lucky break Nikita had little to do with.

Far from convincing him that Nikita was an intelligent, talented leader, the destruction of Red Cell had convinced Curtis that Nikita was a complete moron - so far out of her depth that she was treading water. It was only a matter of time before she drowned, taking Section One with her. Luck couldn't hold forever; the other members of Oversight were fools if they couldn't see it.

Red Cell had been planning their attack for years - probably five - and Section hadn't any idea until they received an anonymous warning. How did that denote good leadership? How did that make Nikita worthy of the title Operations?

In Curtis's opinion it didn't, but he was very much alone.

There was no possibility of the Oversight Committee removing her now, even if Center would allow it, and he doubted they would. No. They would place their lives in Nikita's slippery fingers and their survival would depend on luck alone. Lady Luck was a fickle mistress. They'd be dead inside a year.

Curtis had sacrificed too much to allow that to happen. He had devoted the majority of his life to Section; his blood, his sweat and tears were shed in building it. He had given up his life, his past and his future for the course. He'd watched others die for it; he'd mourned their deaths. Curtis couldn't stand aside and allow her to destroy it.

While others crossed their fingers and hoped for the best, he was going to find another way - any way. He sat in his starkly lit office considering his options, they were few in number - all legitimate avenues were closed to him.

He considered the illicit ones. Looking at them from every angle, he weighed the pros and cons before rejecting all but one. Armed with a working strategy, Curtis went about putting it into action.

His hand shook as he picked up his phone; he fumbled while attaching the scrambling device. He took time dialing the number.

The man was quick to answer. "Yes."

"Owen?" Curtis thought his voice sounded higher than normal.

"Curtis?" Owen replied.

"Yes."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Owen's voice was like soft velvet.

Now or never. Curtis breathed deeply. "I need you to find someone for me."

"What sort of someone?"

"Your sort of someone."

Owen paused for a moment. "Send the details."

Curtis had the file ready and waiting; he hit send and waited impatiently for Owen to digest it. Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, Owen spoke.

"Interesting." Owen stretched out the word.

"Heard of her?" Curtis knew he sounded too eager.

"No. That's what's interesting." Owen laughed softly. "Sure she's a player and not just a drone?" Owen asked a few moments later.

Curtis was beginning to think he'd made a mistake. "My Intel is limited."

"You're telling me." Owen sighed.

"You don't think you can find her," Curtis ventured, almost hoping Owen would say he couldn't.

"I didn't say that," Owen quietly responded.

"Well?" Curtis prodded.

"It will be difficult." Owen dragged out each word.

"That is why I called you," he snapped.

Owen sighed. "I have a list of items."

Curtis smiled - Owen was predictable. "Send it. I will see what I can do."

"I'll contact you when I have something."

"You do that." Curits concluded the conversation, hung up and removed the scrambling device from the phone.

He felt as though he'd just run a marathon - his stomach was a fiery ball of anxiety.

Curtis had taken his first step down an extremely dangerous road. What if the path lead to a future that was worse than the one he was trying to avoid? What if...?

There is no other option.

Sometimes the devil is the only one open for business.

******

She hadn't left Section in over two months and had spent the majority of that time in Comm. Quinn was sick of Comm., she was sick of Section, but mostly, she was sick of Nikita.

Nikita had decided no Comm. operative would leave the premises until after they had restored and then reviewed Red Cell's entire database. Not the easiest of tasks, it was made more difficult by Nikita's insistence on hourly progress reports and continued visits to inform them their efforts weren't good enough. Morale was at an all-time low.

Under the circumstances, Quinn thought her team was doing exceptionally well; they had restored over 90% of the data, which was more than anyone should have expected, considering its state. Unfortunately Nikita wasn't just anyone, she was in charge and she wanted it all. The last ten percent was lost forever; there was nothing Quinn could do about it.

Nikita wasn't to be reasoned with, however; humoring her, Quinn had left four members of her team on the impossible task of retrieving the irretrievable. Everyone else, herself included, was reviewing Red Cell's database. It was a slow and mostly boring task, most of the information trivial and utterly useless. However, their orders dictated that every piece of data had to be viewed - Quinn didn't really feel like spending time in Abeyance for disobeying Nikita's order.

Currently Quinn was reviewing the security checkpoint records. Page after page listing time, date, personnel - their security clearances, fingerprints and pictures - for each checkpoint they passed through. She'd been looking at files for over four hours. She was bored, she was tired; she was seriously considering walking up to the Perch and shooting Nikita in the head.

She'd moved on to the next record before something clicked - the man's face was familiar. She'd been reviewing files for weeks; a familiar face wasn't uncommon, but this one raised alarm bells. There was something about him.

She went back, reviewed the record again. Nothing stood out. And yet...

She ran a quick search for other records. There was only one. His exit.

He had entered the base, stayed four hours and left the base the same day. He had passed through only one checkpoint, he had never visited the base before, and yet his clearance was high. That was unusual. His face was familiar.

Why do I know you?

Quinn decided to run his prints and see if she got lucky. She moved on to the next record; not expecting the computer to find a match anytime soon, she was surprised when the computer beeped almost immediately.

A match?

The fingerprints of Red Cell's one time visitor - Daniel Reilly - were a perfect match for Janet's second assistant.

For some reason, Quinn really wished she'd been a little less observant.

******

She sat in darkness staring out at a starless sky, softly tapping her fingers on the window ledge without rhythm. The house behind her was deceptively quiet, affording the illusion of solitude.

Janet found the illusion comforting. It allowed her the rare pleasure of relaxing, whiling away an evening of sleeplessness, imagining how the other half lived. She wondered what it was like to live such lives of ignorance - was it truly blissful or simply mundane?

She found it intriguing, contemplating possible answers and considering where - had circumstances differed - she might have fit within that world, if there was ever a place there for her. It was an enjoyable way for her to pass the time - ignoring the demands of her world.

As always her illusion was shattered sooner rather than later.

"Quid agis, dulcissime rerum?" (How are you, sweetest of creatures?) Daniel greeted from the door.

Though his presence was not wholly unwelcome, Janet released a dramatic sigh before responding, "Quid me alta silentia cogis rumpere?" (Why force me to break this pent-up silence?)

"I've brought you a present," he announced, switching to English.

Janet turned from the window to face him, tracing his form with her eyes. "Is it by chance an exceptionally rare and exceedingly fine bottle of my favorite vice?" she asked smiling.

"Why yes, it is," he replied; she could hear the smile in his voice.

"In that case, you may intrude." She raised a welcoming hand.

Daniel strode farther into the room with his usual self-confidence. She heard him place a heavy object on her desk, before he came around the desk and placed a gentle kiss upon her upturned cheek. He plunked himself down on the blotter on her desk, leaning forward, hands on his knees.

He smiled widely. "Heard a nasty rumor about you."

"Oh?" she inquired with studied neutrality.

"I was informed, by a reliable source, that you slithered to the depths of depravity and patronized the village cafeteria Monday last." Daniel's tone was grave, but he was smiling.

"When in the throes of starvation, what can one do but rush madly towards the first eatery that comes within view?" Janet responded in as serious a tone as she could manage.

Daniel had a fondness for the dramatic; his mouth hung open and his hand came to rest upon his heart. "But such an eatery?" He even sounded shocked. "What of your reputation?"

Such moments of levity were now so rare; Janet had come to miss them. "When demise is the probable consequence, one must dispense with one's snobbery and lunch with the masses."

Daniel gifted her a number of tutts before condemning her actions with words. "Utterly reprehensible behavior Janet!"

Janet had missed him. "Horresco referens (I shudder to think of it) - I can hardly believe I allowed myself to do it."

He laughed loudly.

"How was your trip?" she ventured.

"Decidedly inconvenient." Daniel smiled without enthusiasm. He leaned forward. "There are bags under your eyes," he accused.

Janet could hear the concern in his voice - she examined her fingernails. "It's the lighting," she lied.

"I was watching on the monitor," he stated.

"Then it's the monitor." She didn't change position, didn't look up. Her tone alone carried the implicit warning, the laying down of boundaries; he was entering an area where his presence was unwelcome.

He sighed heavily. "Semper eadem." (Ever the same.)

"What will you do when this is finished?" Janet hadn't meant to ask.

"Same thing I do now," he quickly replied.

She looked up. "You could retire, you know; you're a rich man."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm useless without you ordering me around; I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Very funny Daniel." Janet paused. "I'd really like you to consider it," she added quietly.

"Consider retiring?" He appeared surprised.

"Luck doesn't last forever, and you've had more than most," she informed him.

He laughed softly. "I'd die of boredom out there in the "real" world. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"You are irritating at times." She smiled.

"I know," he replied, in a singsong voice.

Janet abruptly changed the subject. "What news from the front?"

"Another base destroyed. Doesn't look good for our friends at Red Cell." He grinned.

"Damn shame that," she said, laughter in her voice.

"Whatever is the world coming to?" Daniel continued grinning.

"Securus judicat orbis terrarum." (The verdict of the world is conclusive.)

He laughed again. "So, did you do anything of note while I destroyed Red Cell single-handedly?"

"A number of things, but only two that would interest one such as yourself," she responded.

"I've a feeling you just insulted me." Hand back on his heart. "Shoot."

"I've secured a new ally," she told him.

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Coming out of the woodwork aren't they?" He yawned. "So what was interesting?"

Janet smiled sweetly. "I've advanced the timetable."

He didn't say anything at first, just stared at her with a surprised expression. Finally he spoke, "I think you had better tell me more about this new ally."

Janet laughed, "Pull up a chair."

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

Less than a month before he had been there.

Six-foot one, blue-eyed blond, Daniel James Reilly was Janet's second assistant.

Nikita had spent coming on three years searching for a man who had been in Section's database all along - their searches hadn't included the dead. According to their records, Daniel James Reilly was killed in 1990 while in the employ of one Kristoff Alberto Baldacci - one of the most vicious terrorists Section had ever encountered. Unless Red Cell made a habit of logging in corpses Section's records were incorrect.

Three weeks before Section's arrival, Reilly had visited Red Cell's main base of operations; his fingerprints had been entered into the system, he'd smiled for his picture.

Operatives were poring over the Baldacci files, searching for some clue as to how Reilly managed to escape Section forces in 1990 and then elude them for the last 17 years. Luck could explain the first, but he'd have needed help on the second; as Janet couldn't have been more than ten, she was out. Somewhere in those files there was a name, a connection to Reilly; if they found it, they would be able to find him. Nikita was certain.

And when we find him, we'll find Janet.

Oversight had finally given their permission; the hunt for Janet had begun in earnest. Database searches had yet to yield any results on the search for Janet and her first assistant, but they didn't need to. Reilly was the key; he would lead them to the others.

She heard someone behind her. "Yes?"

Quinn. "We may have found her."

Nikita blinked. Her. Not HIM. HER. "Janet?" She turned to face Quinn.

Quinn nodded. "Kristoff's sister, Helene, had a daughter with her husband Gideon Vasaro. Our records indicate the parents died in 1980, but there is no mention of the child..."

Nikita cut her off. "1980? When was she born?"

"April 4th 1977," Quinn read the date off her PDA.

Too old - was Nikita's immediate thought. "Her name was Janet?" She was willing to explore the idea.

Quinn shook her head again. "No, her first name was Debra, but her middle name begins with a J. In..."

Again she cut off Quinn. "The full name isn't on the birth certificate?"

Quinn sighed. "No."

Then why the hell are we talking? "What you are telling me is that this person - who may or may not be dead, has the middle initial J - that may or may not stand for Janet, and she may or may not be my Janet despite being about five years too old?" she snarled, thoroughly annoyed with Quinn.

Quinn's lips formed a single tight line; she said nothing at first, just glared fiercely at Nikita. "From 1980 onwards Debra's name doesn't appear on a single piece of paper - she disappeared. If she died we should have a death certificate - we don't. Gideon had no siblings, Helene had only Kristoff, and both sets of grandparents were dead. If the child survived, she went to live with her Uncle. In 1989 one of our operatives infiltrated Kristoff's organization. She lived in his house for a time, and in one of her early reports, she mentioned a girl named Deb. The operative was pulled out in 1990, just before the raid, in debrief she gave a list of all the houses' occupants, the name Deb did not appear..."

Nikita cut in. "Who was the operative?"

Quinn looked annoyed to have been interrupted yet again, but answered the question, "Simone Chiang."

Simone Chiang? Simone... "Not..."

This time it was Quinn who cut off Nikita. "Yes, one and the same." Quinn paused as though she expected Nikita to speak again, when she didn't, Quinn continued, "In 2001 a J.H.Baldacci brought a large parcel of land in the United States, just outside Baltimore. J.H.Baldacci has a birth certificate and all relevant documentation; but before 1993, she doesn't appear to have had a bank account, a driver's license, a library card or anything else. So, I think we may have found her." Quinn was at her bitchy best.

"Send a team, surveillance only." Nikita was icy cold.

"Yes Ma'am," Quinn muttered on her way out.

Keep this up and you'll end up in Abeyance.

Nikita looked down upon Comm.; a few minutes later Quinn marched across the room and took her seat. The woman got straight to work, and in very little time, the first cold operatives wandered towards the briefing table. For all Quinn's faults, she was good at her job. If only she wasn't so eager to steal mine.

By the time the necessary operatives were assembled, Nikita had thoroughly examined the information on Debra Vasaro and J. Baldacci - she was convinced they were one and the same. She was convinced they had found Janet.

I'll bathe in her blood.

******

However dangerous anger was, love was more so.

He had allowed emotion to rule; he had allowed his feelings to dictate his actions. And now...

Now, Michael was in trouble. Now, he and Adam were "guests'" in Janet's house, and at her mercy.

"You're not sleeping?" a voice questioned in softly accented french.

Michael followed the sound of the voice and found Janet leaning casually against the doorway.

"Nor I," she continued with a smile. "May I join you?"

It was her house; Michael nodded. "Of course."

Janet moved further into the room and, making a sweeping gesture with her hand, announced, "This is my favorite part of the house."

"It is comfortable."

Janet came and sat in an armchair across from him; she sunk into the cushions, observing him in silence.

Michael detected the faint aroma of alcohol and, though Janet displayed no outward symptoms of intoxication, he suspected she was drunk. She looked terrible, as though she hadn't slept or eaten in days. Dark circles were forming around her eyes; her cheekbones looked like blades beneath her skin. Janet seemed leached of energy.

Michael thought the look suited her - it seemed more honest.

After a prolonged staring match, Janet broke the silence. "Forget her."

The comment took Michael off guard; he hadn't thought he was so transparent. Nikita and Adam were all he had thought about the last few days. "I cannot."

Janet smiled with false sympathy. "There is no other way this can end." She was seemingly unable to work up enough energy to impose much inflection on her words, speaking in a low monotone most of the time.

A few days before he wouldn't have understood what she meant - now Michael knew. He knew why she had come to him this evening, knew that she had planned it this way. Michael had found out only because she had allowed it. What he didn't know was why. Why now? Why ever?

"Why not just walk away?" he asked, knowing the answer only too well. She couldn't walk away; Janet was destructive by nature.

She shook her head ever so slightly. "It is decided. I could not save her even if I wanted to."

He didn't believe her. "It doesn't have to be this way."

Janet looked away and sighed deeply. She stared out the window for a few minutes and then, seeming to come to a decision, turned back to face him. "I owe you a debt," she said tiredly. "You may warn her if you wish."

She surprised him; Michael had not thought she would give in so easily. It was unlike Janet to do so - there would be a catch.

Janet rose and spoke again. "You have the choice. Choose, but choose wisely." She left the threat unspecified.

Janet owed him - her life and her freedom. Because of that debt, he was free to do as he wished; but it would cost him. What, he wasn't certain. She would withdraw her assistance - that was a given - but interference of this kind would merit something more punishing. If he caused her to fail, she would make him pay; Janet wasn't the type of person who let things go.

Janet moved to exit the room. At the doorway she paused and then turned back. "There are no children nowadays," she said softly, then turned and left.

Michael's blood ran cold. He listened to her retreating footsteps, echoing up the hallway.

She would do it; he knew she would. Janet didn't make idle threats. She was born a bitch.

"There are no children nowadays."

Janet had never been a child, never been innocent. Michael knew that now, but once he had mistaken youth for innocence; it was proving a costly error.

"It doesn't have to be this way." He wanted it to be true, but now...

Now it seemed he had no choice. Thousands would die, Nikita among them.

Thousands.

Michael had the power to save them, he believed. He didn't know if he could do it; didn't know if he wanted to do it.

Not now.

He didn't want to choose.

I need another option.

Michael was in Janet's house - at her mercy; Di was his shadow, ever vigilant. But there was a way; Michael knew there was a way.

He could alert Nikita to the threat Janet posed without risking Adam's life. There was a way.

He just couldn't think of it.

THINK! he ordered himself.

******

There was no way it could end well for her. If Nikita succeeded, she'd end up cleaning Section's toilets. If Nikita failed, she'd either - depending on the circumstances - end up in Abeyance or dead. Quinn was leaning towards death as her preferred option, which was just as well because - in her opinion - it was also the most likely.

The mission was going exceptionally well; their teams had cut through the opposition like a hot knife through butter. They had yet to sustain a single casualty and their teams were well within the complex. Quinn felt as though she were watching a train wreck.

All too easy.

It was a trap; it had to be. The security was limited and ill-placed; the personnel couldn't shoot straight though their lives depended upon it. Each one of them seemed to be acting alone; there was no organization, no cohesion - no plan. It just didn't fit with what Nikita had told her about Janet.

I'm going to die here.

If she had been able to choose a way to die, this wouldn't have been it. However, there wasn't another person in the world she would rather die with than the woman beside her. Her own death was a whole lot more acceptable knowing that Nikita would be joining her in hell - Quinn was almost looking forward to it.

Nikita didn't appear to think there was a problem. Despite lecturing them all on how cunning and vile Janet was, Nikita didn't seem the least bit concerned at how easily their teams were taking the base. When Quinn dared to mention the possibility of a trap, Nikita had laughed in her face. Quinn was having doubts about Nikita's sanity - the woman was possessed.

"There's something..."

They never heard the rest of what team three's leader had to say, the transmission cut out.

Quinn had been expecting something of this sort - Nikita had not.

"What happened?" Nikita looked at Quinn accusingly.

"Transmission cut out," she replied, calm as calm can be.

Her tone appeared to annoy Nikita. "Get him back," she bit out.

Quinn tried every trick in the book and a great many that weren't - it was of no use, she hadn't expected it to be.

Waste of time, we should get out of here. "Nothing I can do, it's a total system failure," Quinn said aloud.

"Does Section still have contact?" Nikita was becoming agitated.

Quinn laughed. "I'd ask but we're cut off completely." Told you so, she was tempted to add.

"Get us back up," Nikita ordered, her tone cold - her face stern and unyielding.

I hope she dies first - I'd like to see that.

"I can't. We need to get the hell out of here," she said, though believing it was already too late.

Nikita's eyes flared, for a moment they were wild, dangerous - insane. Nikita blinked hard and her angry haze appeared to lift. "You're right. This is a trap."

I told you so.

Nikita banged on the divider to the cab. "Let's go."

They went nowhere. Quinn pulled up the cab camera - no one was there. "On our own."

"Where the hell did he go?" Nikita demanded.

Quinn smiled. "I doubt he went willingly."

Nikita stared at her, then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

Too late now. "What are your orders?"

Nikita handed her a weapon and grabbed another for herself. "Let's go," Nikita said, pulling the door open as she did so.

Quinn wasn't sure if Nikita's eyes were burning with confidence or insanity - somehow she doubted there was much difference under the circumstances. You first. "Yes, Ma'am," she crisply responded.

Nikita raced out the door into the nearby brush, but didn't get much farther than that - she collapsed in a heap. Quinn, who against her better judgment had followed Nikita out the door, only managed a few steps before meeting a similar fate.

In the moment before the darkness took her, Quinn cursed Nikita to hell.

******

She stood in the center of Comm. watching a blank screen and wondering what the hell had gone wrong.

Communications was down - not just on Operations' mission, but every mission.

It wasn't supposed to be possible, but someone had hacked into their system and pulled the plug. Jasmine doubted the timing was coincidental; it was all part of a larger plan, one she was sure included Operations' mission.

The techs were working with a furious intensity she had never before witnessed, but they weren't moving nearly fast enough for her. Operations was very likely walking into a trap and they couldn't warn her - they couldn't even get the doors to open. They had to get back online before it was too late - if it isn't already.

"I think I've got it!" a tech optimistically stated, while Jasmine continued to stare into blackness. "God damn it!" he cursed a moment later.

More typing, rewiring, and twenty more minutes of impotence.

"Try again," he ordered.

Jasmine was still watching a blank screen - nothing.

The tech ripped out a few more wires; then jury-rigged another pathway. "What about now?"

The screens flickered to life.

"Got it!" another tech announced. "It will take a few minutes to connect," he continued, all the while typing with lightning speed.

Jasmine paced from one end of Comm. to the other, becoming increasingly nervous with each step. Too long. Too long.

"We're up," he said.

Jasmine couldn't see any proof of that. "Then where are they?"

He swallowed hard. "The teams are dead."

"What?" Her stomach moved up into her throat.

"No life signs - they are dead."

"Operations?" She failed to keep the desperation from her voice.

"Dead too, no wait a minute..." he trailed off.

"What?" she demanded.

"I'm not getting any readings,' he replied.

"No readings?" She considered. "Possible someone has phased out her transponders?"

"That could account for it, but then she could just as easily be dead." He shrugged.

"What about Quinn and Trent?" she asked, her heart pounding.

"Trent is dead. Quinn I have no readings for," he told her.

"You're sure the others are dead, but don't know about Quinn and Operations?"

"We'll know more when more systems are up and running," he hedged.

"Nothing on any of Operations transponders?"

"Nada on both."

Both?

Her heart skipped a beat. "What about the third?"

He shot her a confused look. "I wasn't aware she had another."

Let's hope you're not the only one.

Jasmine glanced up at the Perch where Jacob stood.

"Any chance you could leave him there a little longer?"

He followed her gaze. "I'm really very busy."

Jasmine smiled. "Let's get to work."

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

He might have damned his soul to hell, but he had spared himself from living in one. Michael had made his choice; perhaps not the right one, but the only one he could live with. When it came down to it, the choice had been easy.

"Ready to go?" Janet asked, from the doorway behind him.

He turned to face her - the bringer of death, destroyer of worlds. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail; her face devoid of make-up, but fresh and full of life. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a fitted red T-shirt, and no shoes. She seemed vibrant, at ease - guilt free. Janet didn't look like a person about to sentence thousands to death.

She smiled - a large smile, genuine and warm - it shone in her deep green eyes.

Michael had never thought her more beautiful nor hated her more fiercely.

"Yes." His mask firmly in place.

Janet's smile dimmed a few degrees, a curious expression claimed her features. "You hate me; don't you Michael?"

"No."

She appeared puzzled by his answer. "No?" she repeated.

"No." Michael paused a moment. "I despise you."

She nodded, then cocked her head to the side. "Understandable." Her smile returned. "The horror is downstairs with Daniel."

He nodded, then moved to pass her and exit.

Janet held a hand up and he stopped.

"Did you want to see her first?"

No. Michael couldn't bear it. He didn't want to see the reproach in Nikita's eyes, didn't want her to know what he had done. He didn't want to explain that to Janet either. He shook his head.

She smiled wanly. "Very well." Janet reached into her jeans pocket, removed a vial of clear fluid, and held it out to him. "Put this in Adam's next meal."

He took the vial. "What is it?" He knew what she would say.

"The antidote."

He carefully placed it inside his jacket pocket. "Insurance?"

"Nemo me impune la cessit," (No one provokes me with impunity,) she paused. "You made the right decision Michael. Section had an army; Adam had you."

He remained silent.

"The horror awaits you."

"Adam grows on you," Michael defended his son.

"I don't like children period," Janet told him seriously. "Luckily for me, I can't have children." The admission did not appear to concern her.

Michael couldn't think of what to say.

Janet spared him the effort. "Turns out there's only so much you can do with sticky tape." She pointedly looked at her wristwatch. "Time to go."

"Goodbye Janet."

"Goodbye Michael. I do not think we will meet again."

Janet turned, and left the room without a backward glance. Michael watched her go. He stood, unmoving, in the room for a few minutes and then went downstairs to find his son.

"You missed Janet," Adam announced upon seeing his father.

"We spoke upstairs," Michael told him.

Adam seemed slightly annoyed at the news. "Oh," was all he offered.

A harassed looking Daniel stepped forward and offered Michael his hand. "It was a pleasure." Daniel smiled brightly.

Michael shook his hand, but said nothing.

"I've something for you," Daniel continued.

The only response, an eyebrow raised in question.

Daniel retrieved two boxes from a table near the door, and handed them to Michael. "A chess set, board and pieces, all handcrafted."

"Thank you," he said, deciding some response was needed.

Daniel grinned. "You need the practice."

"My dad's good at chess," Adam piped up, seemingly insulted. Adam had taken an instant dislike to Daniel.

Proof he has some sense.

Daniel looked down on Adam and smiled widely. "I'm better, and Janet could kick both our asses."

Adam glared at Daniel, saying nothing.

"You're a delight Adam," Daniel said sarcastically.

"Whatever," Adam replied.

"Time to go. Thank Daniel, Adam," he commanded, shooting his son a stern look.

"Thanks Daniel," Adam said, none too sincerely.

"You are quite welcome," Daniel responded in the same spirit.

They all went down to the car; Daniel opened the door for them.

"Take care," Daniel said.

Adam jumped in the car, poking his tongue out at Daniel on the way.

"I just love ten year olds," Daniel said, deadpan.

Michael followed his son into the car.

Daniel shut the door and the driver pulled away from the steps.

As they drove down the driveway towards their new life Michael turned back to watch the house growing smaller. Somewhere within was the woman he had once loved - still loved. Michael was leaving her, and inside that house she would die.

He had had an opportunity to prevent it - he believed - and did not.

He had been unable to think of an option that did not put his son at risk - he could not risk his son. His courage failed him, failed them all.

Because of Michael's failure - his selfishness - she would die, and thousands would follow her.

Michael looked down into Adam's deep brown eyes and smiled.

Nikita would die.

He would mourn her passing; he would mourn the deaths of those who followed her.

But he would not regret his choice.