Part 1:

The profile pleased him. It was a little unorthodox even for him, but it was justified. She was a hindrance to his success. She must go. The plans and scenario had all been worked out in his head. His new team would get the assignment. Any one of Agencies could handle this task, but George wanted to use the Council. They worked without questions.

Over the past 3 months, he had called upon them more and more. Not because he had need of their special talents, but because he enjoyed manipulating the ones involved. In the past he would have put aside their suffering for the greater good, but recently he had started to get attached. He felt something when one was tormented. Contrary to what it may seem, it wasn’t sympathy or even remorse that would make itself known. It was a pure kind of pleasure.

The exhilaration of seeing their misery as the result of one of his plans, was becoming an addiction. The power over their lives and subconscious was his driving force. He knew he could play with the five divisions they belonged to, but they were well connected aside from his silent leadership. His interference and new paradigm shift in mission profiles would have caused too many waves. This way he had his own victims to inflict emotional and physical pain on. They were bound by honor and fear of reprisal to do much else. They would take all he gave them without comment. They had to, the consequences were still horrific.

He had chosen well. They were the best of all the agencies. Nikita from Section One and O’Malley from Red Cell stepped up to the plate as the leaders in the renegade band. What was interesting to him was that O’Malley deferred to Nikita. Her leadership qualities had come to the forefront early on. She had begrudgingly earned the respect of the others on the Council. Her actions and intensity had won them over, operative by operative. It was an astounding feat considering that they were all her bitter rivals. He was surprised they hadn’t killed her on the spot, taking her down just for being a representative of the Section. She had walked into a power keg, and was able to diffuse the situation without even the slightest spark.

Nikita had changed since he had first encountered her in the conference room of Section One. Part of George’s pleasure came from the knowledge that this change was difficult for her. She hid her new side well. Since the last phase of the Synod take down, she had perfected a certain emotional separation. George knew it still got to her. She hated being deceitful. It was against her nature. But he was also aware that a part of her reveled in the control she had obtained. Watching her internal struggle was entertaining. A war was waged between the adrenaline high she received when she ascended to power and the heart and compassion of her soul.

She tried to hide away these changes, so that others would not noticed. He admired her resolve. She had most of them fooled, but all noticed a slight difference in her. They chalked it up to the psychological horrors she had experienced at his hands, but he knew the truth. It was daily battle that she waged in her soul. She was only partially aware of its existence. George knew if he kept up his silent guidance in her collapse, she would be lost without even realizing the game had started.

Reviewing the information laid out on his mahogany desk, he grinned. If all went well, at the end of this mission he would put a crack in Nikita and Michael’s relationship. He was the only one that stood in the way of making her his property. Without Michael, she would have surrendered to the dark. He planned on stripping Nikita of all she held sacred. None would be there for her. Not her so called family, not her hearts desire and certainly not her new team of colleagues.

Yes all was going well. In a short amount of time, she would belong to him. Her emotional turmoil would be his entertainment. Simultaneously she would rid him of a pestering thorn in his side. A thorn that threatened to be his downfall. Taking a deep drag of his Cuban cigar, he lifted the Corizon El Diablo. The ruby fire shined bright. Murmuring an ancient prayer in a forgotten tongue, he focused on his wishes. His reward would not be in concrete form. He wanted her soul. She would be his. Through her his dominion would be secure. Let the games begin…

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

Part 2:

The air held a slight chill. The night sky was jet black with the refracted twinkles of light from distant stars. Her pale hair gleamed icily in the lustrous moonlight casting an unearthly glow about her shoulders. Nikita tugged her cloak around her shoulders as she alighted from the Limo. Looking up at the quaint inn style restaurant, she grinned. French cuisine. She should have known.

She had received the curt summons earlier today. So short and unexplained that she only came out of curiosity, and the fact that it was signed with a scrawled M. As she entered the front door, the host smiled as if she was a long lost friend. Taking her wrap from her, he led her to the private dining room. Opening the door, Nikita was soon immersed in flowers of every shade and color. Lilies, Gardenias, Jasmine, Orchids, Roses. The list went on. Their soft petals glowed from the hundreds of candles spread through the cozy room. In the middle of this hideaway, a table for two was set. Flutes full of bubbling liquid sat next to exquisite china. Glancing around, she did not see her intended. She let the setting relax her. The mixture of flame and flower soothed her like no other.

A tad chilled from her foray outdoors, Nikita made her way to the roaring fireplace. The flames transformed from Orange to Yellow to Blue and back again. The rhythm of its movement so beautiful and unrestrained. Nikita sighed almost envious of its ability to burn so brightly in a controlled environment. It lived with vitality and power even within the bounds of the hearth. A perfect mix of splendor and strength.

A slight noise notified Nikita that she was not alone. The tiny grin on her face froze as he came into view. Auburn hair free of its usual form fell seductively around his face. The curls playing havoc in the candlelight showing the mixture of red and brown that was exclusively his. His lean and taught body was encased in the finest of tuxedos. The contrast of ink black and snow white showed off the crispness and lines of the suit. It was made for him. Each tuck, each stitch curved around his form. It worshiped his body as it showed off his finely tuned physique. But none of that paused Nikita. It was the eyes of green fire that raked over her with a mixture of appreciation and desire that stilled her. A picture could tell a thousand words, but a look like that could last a lifetime. All his longing, all his gentleness and all his violent passion could be seen. The combination was devastating. He worshiped her with his eyes. If she still doubted how he felt, she could see its true form within his gaze.

Moving forward to meet her at the fireplace, Michael viewed the perfection before him. If she had asked him to speak, he was afraid that words would not be formed. The room had been gloriously setup, but it was just a room until she had entered. It now held a private seductive air. She filled it with a passion and grace that made the flowers smell sweeter and the candles glow softer. Clad in a strapless white velvet gown with matching pearls, she was delicate. He knew this was not her normal style. He knew in his heart she had dressed for him. She looked so feminine, so fragile and so lovely. It was a surreal thought that this angel was his.

His hand tenderly raised to her face, gently cupping her check. Slowly he brushed his thumb back and forth in a seductive motion. Awestruck in each other’s appearance, they stood as still as statues. Models for an unknown painting to symbolize desire and true love. Raising her hand to his shoulders, she carefully ran her fingers through his silky hair. A beautiful combination of satin and fire fell through her fingertips. Leaning forward he gently pressed his lips to hers. Pulling back as their need increased. This was melding of hearts. They were both undone with its gentleness.

“Thank You” He whispered reverently.

She was shocked. Why was he thanking her? “Why?”

“For this…For you” Pulling her toward the center of the room, he helped her into her chair touching her shoulders briefly before taking his own seat.

Her curiosity could no longer be suppressed. “Why?” She asked one more time.

He was so in tune with her thoughts, he knew what she was asking. Taking a hold of his glass, he held it up for a toast. “We were on a mission two days ago.”

“Yes in Peru. Michael?”

“It was your birthday.”

His answer had floored her. He had remembered. It was not her birth into section, but her birth into humanity. She had almost forgotten herself. The memory had come back early in the morning prior to their ascent on the fortress. She pushed it aside, knowing that no other would recognize her day. Her birthdays were the only good memory of her childhood. To have him remember added a certain sweetness to the event.

“Happy Birthday, Cherie”

The food was spectacular, but they would only remember each other. The canards were cooked to perfection. The asparagus so tender it melted. The champagne from the private cellars of a French baron. But all that was important was the individual across the table. As Michael carefully spooned the raspberry crème brulee into her mouth, he watched her lips close over the spoon as he stifled a groan. Feeding Nikita was a very erotic experience. Her eyes and face betrayed all emotion. It was symphony of flavors and feelings as her eyelids closed at the taste of the heavenly confection.

Knowing he was losing his cool, Michael pulled her to her feet as music started from nowhere. He pulled her into his arms. Her body fitting perfectly with his. Their curves hugging each other in symbiotic union. Moving to the melodic sounds of Enya, they soon lost themselves in the sway and beat of the sirens song. Leaning in to claim a kiss, he tasted the mixture of Nikita, Raspberry and the bubbly Krystal. He could survive on that morsel alone for the rest of his life.

Intruding just like another time and place, the electronic sound of a cell phone interrupted their idyllic interlude. Both stopped mid kiss. Leaning their foreheads together, Nikita was the first to find her voice.

“You better get that.”

“I know…But”

“Don’t worry Michael. Just get it.”

They both knew that this could happen, but Michael had called in a favor with Madeline. They were not to be bothered until tomorrow. Late tomorrow. What could have gone wrong? Walking over to his jacket, he pulled out his cell phone. To his surprise it was silent. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, he looked at Nikita. Handing her ringing phone to her, he waited.

“Yes”

“Princess. Chateaux Bruschard 10 hours.” The caller clicked off before she could answer. Letting her eyes fall, she shut off the phone and turned to Michael.

“I have to…”

“I know. Am I needed?”

“No. But, I want…”

“Another time.”

Gathering her things, she walked over to him. Touching his face tenderly she leaned in and whispered against his lips. “I’m sorry. Thank You” Turning she left as gracefully as she came.

Pulling the hotel room key from his jacket pocket, Michael laid it down on the table. It was useless now. Maybe another time, maybe another place and maybe another life. Taking his half-empty glass, he walked to the fireplace and was soon mesmerized by its spell.

“Happy Birthday, Nikita” The spell was broken. Turning on his heels and away from their room of dreams, Michael left.

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

Part 3:

The transatlantic flight had been uneventful. The jet was waiting on the tarmac with her gear already stowed as she pulled up. The pilot only dared one glance at the irate yet elegantly dressed Nikita. Anger and resolve all but radiated from her. The previous journeys with her had been entertaining to say the least. Her mixture of honesty, sarcasm and whit had charmed him. She was working her way into the hearts of the Agency operatives one at a time. He had been looking forward to tonight. But seeing her in such a mood, he now hoped to sneak away without notice. She may look charming, but even Evan knew to stay away from an upset Section Operative.

He let out a sigh of relief, as he saw Nikita depart from his plane in Salzburg. His ears still rang from the sound of her voice. He wished he had known who was on the other end of the line. One thing was for certain, he didn’t envy that individual at all. She had torn them to shreds. He committed his resolve not to cross her. In a heartbeat the Angel turned Demon and back again. The emotional roller coaster gave him a splitting headache. He had 32 hours to get rid of it before he picked her up again. He only hoped she was in a better mood.

Evan may have had a headache, but Nikita was rather proud of herself. Pulling Operations out of an important “Meeting” had been amusing. She could hear Madeline’s voice in the background and that just egged her on all the more. She had all intentions of just calling in and letting them know that George had borrowed her services again. But with Marcus throwing an attitude, she just couldn’t resist. He was so protective of his realm. It still irked him to no end that Nikita knew more about some missions then he did. However, he had obtained a certain grudging respect for her planning and cold op skills after the Synod incident. But he had pictured her so long as a problem operative that this transition was hard to accept. The conversation took a slight turn for the worse when he tried to overrule her.

“What do you mean, NO?” Nikita had tried to keep the laughter from spilling out at Operations curt response. It was a hard task. So she just raised her voice and prepared to do battle. A good yelling match could always focus her. If he wanted to oblige, then all power to him.

“Return to Section immediately. You were to be called into a briefing in the morning. We have a situation that needs you.”

“What are the parameters?” Before she went off, she needed to know the importance of this so-called mission.

“We need your skills to take down Dominquez. His location has been found. You sponsored the first part, your team leader on this one…” He proceeded in filling her in on the situation.

Nikita knew that this scenario could happen. She had come prepared. “I have filled Corrine in on all pending missions. She will handle this just fine. Make sure Michael reviews her profile, and we will have closure. I’ll call you when I know more information.”

“NO come back in. If I have to call George I will. We need you here. Corrine is virtually untried in that respect. This if of too great of importance.”

Nikita called his bluff. “Go ahead. George will say the same thing I do. Under this circumstance Marcus, you are being insubordinate. You were informed that when called, I have all jurisdiction and power to pull myself for whatever is needed. Would you like him to remind you of this arrangement?”

Silence on the other end. A loud noise startled her as the phone dropped onto the floor. Soon another voice came over the line. “Nikita, call when you have a timeframe.” Madeline took over as Operations stormed out of the room. Alone for the moment, the second in command continued. “Do you think pushing his buttons is wise? He is not one you want to make an enemy out of.”

The chill in Nikita’s voice shocked even her. “When has he ever been my friend. Madeline you know the situation. I’m following orders.”

Understanding that to be true, Madeline only took issue with the way Nikita handled him. “He knows that Nikita, but riling him up by forcing the issue will only hurt you…..and Michael.”

Not taking the bait, Nikita just shrugged off her comments and ended transmission. She refused to go down that path. Madeline was trying to call in her cards, but Nikita didn’t want to rise to the occasion. There were other things to worry about. Hence the second part of her journey began.

Rotating her neck from left to right, Nikita worked out the kinks from the long and bumpy ride. Gunning the snowmobile over the crest of the last hill, her senses went into overdrive. Even though they had met countless time before, she was always on guard. To be careless with this group could cost you your life.

The spacious cabin came into view as she neared the other vehicles. “One, two, three, four…” She counted them off. Only one other was missing. At least she wasn’t the last. Backing her vehicle in for quick egress if it were necessary, Nikita grabbed her gear out of the seat compartment.

** Leave it to George to pick such a place. Planning violence amid such beauty.**

She was so exhausted that she almost ignored the panoramic view of the valley. The steep Austrian Alps hung above her head. It’s evening sky letting in the first glimpses of countless stars. Located just below the timberline, a warm and cozy cabin sat nestled in a group of pine trees. It’s light glowing from the windows, beckoning weary travelers with its warmth. It was an idyllic spot. Secluded from civilization, yet not from the wondrous beauty the earth offered. A rather deceptive scene considering what and whom were contained within.

Nikita stopped herself from wishing that Michael could see this. She was certain he would appreciate the solitude and splendor of Austria. But that thought had been stymied before it was finished. This pastoral setting was no longer serene. It had been tainted by the world she now lived in.

The cold started to seep through her winter snowsuit. Regardless of the beauty, the high Alps were remarkably frigid for this time of year. Nikita understood now, why she had encountered so few on her way. With –19 degree wind chill factor, only the insane and the desperate were found wandering around. She mused that she was a tad of both. Desperation came on every time she heard her new leaders voice. Insanity was the only explanation she could think of for leaving Michael arms to journey halfway across the globe.

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

Part 4:

"Well look who decided to show up," was the first thing that Nikita heard as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. Dumping her bags in a huff, she pushed back the hood that engulfed her entire head. It had muffled the sound so that she did not recognize the speaker, but she knew who it most likely was.

Leaning against the stone fireplace mantle the guilty could be found with a steaming mug in one hand, cigar in the other and a beautiful smile on his face. Many hearts had been lost to this one. The only problem with him was that he knew it. His golden boy charm hid his true nature, one of a Red Cell Operative. THE best Red Cell Operative.

"You know me O'Malley, I love making an entrance."

"Ain't that the truth. I don't think Monroe will ever recover from your last one." He chuckled as Nikita moved towards him.

"When you got it. You got it." Looking around the room, she noticed the lack of the other members of the Council. Raising her eyebrows in query, she silently asked where they were.

"Thawing out. George should be here in an hour. Hernandez is in route."

"Speaking of defrosting. Damn its cold out there. Why can't he pick a tropical island for once. Every time we have a meeting, It takes me a week to warm up." A quick movement snatched the mug out of O'Malley's hands. "Hmmm Tea…Am I to assume that I've driven the coffee devil out of you?"

"Your welcome" came out sarcastically. "Only when you're around. I can't handle the coffee is evil speech I get every time I see you."

"Not only do I love entrances, I love making my mark." She chuckled absently as she let the smooth flavor of the herbal tea slide over her tongue. Distracted she didn't notice that O'Malley had picked up her bags and was heading toward the back hallway.

"Where do you think…"

"Oh don't give me any fuss. I'm being a gentleman. And by the way, we're roomies for the night. Bring anything sexy to sleep in?" His eyebrows raised in hopeful anticipation.

"Yeah. This little red number and matching bottoms. Your gonna love it." She could barely suppress the laughter as she pictured his reaction to her sexy outfit. Bright red long johns with matching wool socks. "I brought it just for you."

Catching the glimmer in her eye, O'Malley started to regret going to sleep. Nikita was always a handful. Their association had been strained at first. Neither certain of the others motives. Now, they only trusted each other with regards to Council business. They, as hard as it may seem, had compartmentalized their anger and need for revenge. Shutting it off when the Council was called.

Stifling an oath of regret, O'Malley understood that their relationship was purely plutonic much to his dismay and no lack of trying. Then again, he had had a run in with Michael and knew to stop while he was ahead. They fell into a pattern of comfortable teasing. The tension resided just bellow the surface. Never enough to effect their performance, but enough to heighten the experience. Alas no pressure, just a few innuendoes. The similarities to Walter were astounding. He only wished he had met Nikita before Michael had stolen her heart. She was the kind he could fall for in a hard way, even if she was the enemy 99% of the time.

"Come on princess. Get going and change. We only have a few minutes, and I still need to go over a few things with you."

Their time to relax and prepare was over before it had begun. The six had just sat down on the plush leather furniture that encircled the hearth. Their stomachs were full, no thanks to Nikita's participation. They had all learned that lesson the hard way. She was an outstanding leader, a hell of an operative, and she could even seduce the honey away from the queen bee. But put her in the kitchen, and the skunks would even run from her concoctions. From that moment on, she had been banned from doing anything more then making tea and even that was sketchy.

Into this relaxing scene that resembled a working retreat, George walked in. Walked in wasn't the way to describe it. Stomped, Stormed, Slithered, Slinked…. Any of those adjectives would work. He made his presence known none the less.

"Ah I see that all my puppets are here right on time." That earned him a few sheltered glances filled with daggers from the assembled group. He might be their superior, but it did not mean they liked him. They had learned to tolerate each other, for they had a common bond. In return they focused their uncertainty and even hatred upon his shoulders. He was the one they blamed. His blackmail and warped mind had drug each of them off the precipice and headlong into the avalanche that was the Council. They either went along for the ride, or their agencies along with themselves would disappear from the world buried forever.

Setting his pack aside, George withdrew several preprogrammed PDA's. Handing them out to their appropriate owner, he stopped by Nikita.

"You're looking well my dear. I take it you recovered nicely from our last exercise?"

"I'm fine," was her short answer.

Patting her shoulder like she was his pet puppy, he made is request. "Please get me a cup of tea will you. It is so cold outside."

All action stopped. George had asked in such a way that all knew his intentions. Only he could get away with treating her like a servant. But then again, what could they all do but follow his directions.

Her muscles clinched as she moved to stand. Taking the PDA from his hands, she drew an unsteady breath. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Both. Extra on the sugar." Walking over to the kitchen, Nikita prepared the requested drink. Out of spite, she dumped 4 tablespoons of the sweet stuff into his 8-ounce mug. Grinning at her secret joke, she made her way back into the living room. Only O'Malley knew she was up to something and just about choked when he saw the look on George's face at his first sip.

"Need more sugar?" She said sweetly and innocently.

Coughing, he set down the mug and eyed the vixen. ** She did that on purpose ** "No it’s perfect."

With that he launched into the briefing. For 2 hours he droned on about the wickedness of their target. The need for elimination, but he refused to get into the details of the mission. 2 hours they sat as he expounded on the importance of his work, on the need for their services and the threat of what would happen if they failed. The strings were pulled again. For 2 hours they sat, exhausted and mentally fatigued as they individually planned George's demise. For 2 hours they sat and listened and listened to what should have taken 25 minutes to cover.

Patience was never a virtue of Nikita, or any of the operatives assembled, but hers was running very thin. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and she would be damned if she had to sit and listen to him for another minute.

"When, where and how?" She interrupted.

George exploded. "Don't you listen to anything I say. Take her, Kill her, I don't care how just do it!!!!" He was losing his cool. Six operatives sat and watched. George has succeeded in putting fear into war seasoned individuals. Catching each others glances, disbelief was seen all around.

"Study your PDA's. Nikita come up with a scenario, and disperse it accordingly. Use O'Malley if you can get your mind off of lover boy. You can meet with the others after I have approved the final plan." He sneered at her. His hatred and anger directed at her entirely.

Nikita wisely kept her mouth shut and just nodded her head in agreement. This was not turning out well. In fact this mission was going to hell in a hand basket.

Taylor asked for a clarification of an issue. That was the last straw for their illustrious leader.

"Do not ever question me again. I am your focus. I am your future. I am your present. What I say goes. I am your universe…and damn it I am your GOD!!!!!" Picking up his discarded mug, he took a final swig of the overly sweetened liquid. As the fluid reached his taste buds, he threw the cup with violent force into the hearth. The ceramic smashed against the bricks as the liquid boiled and evaporated in the blue and orange flames.

Grabbing his gear, George stormed out the front door. Six eyes wide in surprise watched as he turned around and focused on Nikita. "Two weeks Nikita. Succeed or you all die. Your choice." The door slammed shut and only after the snowmobile could no longer be heard, did they all release a sigh of relief at his parting.

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

Part 5:

Sleep did not come easily for Nikita regardless of her exhaustion. Tossing and turning on the large bed, she tried not to waken her sleeping partner. Golden tufts of hair lay on the adjacent pillow. His back faced her, as he slept. Nikita envied him. O’Malley could sleep standing up and on cue. She really needed to learn that trick. She was so worn out, but her mind kept going over the meeting with George. Something wasn’t right. There must have been more to this mission then he let on. Why else would he go after such an innocuous target. Why else would he have flown in such a rage. Granted the target wasn’t the most innocent of them all, but she wasn’t public enemy number one either. It just didn’t fit.

What concerned her the most was the contradiction between what the PDA had specified and his rambled briefing. The former called for the acquisition and detention of the woman for leverage. The later called for the brutal death that he so elaborately discussed in detail. Where her senses wrong? Or had the profile changed? The only way she could get to the bottom of this was to either ask for clarification or hope she could dig something else up. Asking would ensue a reaction she didn’t know if she could handle. Research could be tricky, but it was her only option that she saw. Even that was a daunting task. How do you research the Consortium Head of 5 non-existent Agencies? **God I hate this job**

Slamming her fist into the fluffy pillow, Nikita tried to close her eyes. She tried counting sheep. She tried counting how many hoots that one particular owl made. Even though O’Malley was a heavy sleeper, her quiet sighs disturbed him. Groaning and drifting somewhere between dreams and reality, he rolled over and pulled a startled Nikita into his arms. Kissing the top of her head and roaming his hands down her back, he was flung back into the real world by a sharp pinch to his side.

Opening his eyes he couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming. She had been in his arms, but she hadn’t been wearing that hideous contraption of blood red. Shaking the last vestige of sleep from his eyes, he pulled her close. “What the hell was that for?”

“I’m not your teddy bear. So back off.” She tried to extricate herself from his grip.

Chuckling he wouldn’t let her go. “Easy there. Can’t sleep huh?”

Resigning herself to the fact that she was in no danger from him, Nikita just plopped her head down on his shoulder. “Yeah.” Silence. “This just doesn’t feel right. Something’s wrong.”

Whispering softly in her ear. “It because we have clothes on.” He quickly dodged the fist that was heading for his stomach. “Oh all right, geez can’t you take a joke.”

“You are such an ingrate. With George nipping at our tails and our own groups ready to strangle us, this is all you think about?”

“Hmm lets see. I wake up in a secluded cabin with a beautiful woman in my arms. She’s sighing heavily. And you want me to think of work???…I give…. Women…” Carefully leaning over, he starts to tickle her.

Unexpected laughter forces out of Nikita’s mouth as she tries to evade his hands. They were everywhere. Her side, her knees, her neck. Tears started to run down her face at the pure hilarity of the situation. Her stomach started to hurt, as she gives him one of her patented touch me again and die looks. Being one never to back off from a challenge, he just continued until he had Section One’s top female operative curled in a ball trying to move away from his torturous fingers.

Several minutes later the laughter died, and they laid companionable in each other’s arms.

“Your right. The missions we’ve been going are ridiculous. Why he needs the Council to take care of the situation and not one of the groups, I don’t know.”

Whispering so that they wouldn’t be overhead by surveillance equipment, Nikita and O’Malley rehashed the last 4 missions the Council had taken on. They each held an inordinate amount of emotional trauma and torture. They had planned each sequence themselves. They knew it wasn’t because they didn’t do their job. It always turned out to be a lack of crucial information that would always present itself halfway through the mission. The team was thrown into untenable circumstances. Left there for however long, and then finally rescued when the majority of pain had been inflicted. The question of the hour was: “Was it planned? Or was each of these circumstances unforeseen?” Nikita didn’t like coincidences. O’Malley trusted them even less.

Around 2 am, they finally succumbed to the sleep that had eluded them. Neither was aware of the tiny camera aimed at their bed. Neither was aware that their friendly laughter and companionship had been viewed and recorded. Neither was aware of how innately sexual the conflict had been. Neither was aware that a copy of that file was simultaneously sent to 3 individuals. One to George, one to Madeline and one to Section One’s top Cold Op.

Neither was aware…but they would be soon…

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

Part 6:

The first email Michael opened was not a welcome sight to start the day. Then nothing started off the day right when he had to go into the Section and Nikita wasn’t there. This, however, confused him. In his mind he knew there had to be a logical explanation. A mission perhaps? However reasonable it may be, the sight still made his stomach knot up.

It wasn’t the fact of seeing Nikita in another man’s arms. That he had gotten used to, even though he tried to lessen the frequency of those occurrences as her team leader. This was different. They lay wrapped around each other, fluctuating from humor to serious concentration. The comfort and openness between them as friends made him envious. His heart ripped in two as he wished beyond all hope that he could give Nikita that type of relationship. Yet, he knew relinquishing that much control over his heart would be her downfall.

Quickly flicking the blinds closed, he sat in silence. The only light was a reflected blue haze from his monitor. He concentrated on stomping out the feelings of loneliness and intense sadness. Michael knew in his mind that he could never let Nikita go from his heart, but he also knew keeping her from the type of companionship she had with O’Malley would eventually tarnish the essence that was Nikita. Everywhere he turned it was a catch 22. Too much attention and she physically dies, too little and her soul dies.

**Damn it** He raged against the feeling of helplessness. For the first time in eons, he didn’t know how to proceed. Their relationship was working itself out. It was tenuous at first, but wondrous none the less. It wasn’t much, but it was all they could have in this place called Section. He knew her so well, better then she did herself. He knew what she needed. (or at least in the past he did) Part of what grated on his nerves was the secrets she hid behind. That concealment was all part of the job. But since he was left out of the loop, he didn’t have a full understanding of what she was going through anymore. O’Malley did and that alone caused his anger to be renewed.

Nikita had changed. She wasn’t the bright eyed, insubordinate operative who only saw their missions in black and white. She had held onto her ideals. She was much stronger, more confident and not as needy. That was the root of the problem, she didn’t need him anymore. She could hold her own, what did she need him for? Michael knew she cared about him deeply, but for 3 years he had been her guide. What happens when the student no longer needs the strong hand of the teacher? What happens when the mentor lets their protégé stand on their own feet? He was finding out. She was surviving, but where did that leave him? What happened to his identity?

Michael wasn’t the only one shocked that morning. Madeline was still trying to figure out what was going on. She knew Nikita was on some sort of mission for George. She was about ready to file it away in Nikita’s Permanent File {yes and you thought your third grade teacher got rid of that thing, ha psych…}, when she got a real good look at who she was with. Her heart stopped as she froze the frame.

**What…Why…It can’t be…**

Running a cursory search on the Interpol database, a match was found. It was confirmed. Jerrod O‘Malley. What was Nikita doing with Red Cell’s wonder boy?

This warranted further investigation. ** First the Synod, now Red Cell. Nikita what has George gotten you into? **

Gathering the print out she headed towards Operations’ office. He was not going to be happy about this. Madeline knew she should keep this to herself, but someone had forwarded this to her for action. She was positive it hadn’t been George, he would never tip his hand that way. The question that remained was who? And more importantly, what did that person want?

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

Part 7:

Turning the key in the lock, Nikita leaned against the door with most of her weight. It was good to be home. It was times like this she wished she hadn't got rid of the cat. The soft purring as she rubbed her furry coat across her skin would have relaxed her better then the hot bubble bath she was planning on. There was something about the contact between human and animal. It wasn't a substitute for human to human contact, but it was close. In the life the she led, you had to take all the chances you could get at honest emotion, albeit from a furry creature.

The apartment was dark, only the light from the streetlight filtered in through her sheer drapes. Stifled from being closed up so long, the heavy stale air hit her immediately spurning her forward to open the patio doors. Her bags dropped on the couch, she let the cool breeze and night sounds wash over her. Staring up at the sky, she wished a wish upon a star as was her tradition every night. The wish in her childhood had been for strength, in the first days of the section it was for Freedom, and now her wish was for Clarity & Knowledge. For knowledge was power. Long ago she used to wish for unconditional Love. But time, her mother and even Michael had taught her you don't always get what you wished for.

**Clink…whoosh** The sound of a zippo lighter came from the corner unexpectedly. It's light flickering shadows across the dark room, illuminating Nikita as she dove for her bag just out of her reach. Grasping her gun, she rolled to her feet mentally berating herself on being so lax. Flicking the safety off, she waited.

The intake of breath ignited the end of a familiar brand of cigarette. Holding the flame closer to his face, the intruder stepped from the shadows. The sweet smell of cloves wafted toward Nikita. She didn't need to see the face to know who it was.

"Your late," came from the dark corner resonating with a deep timber.

"It couldn't be helped. The weather delayed the flight." Slowly sliding the safety back on, she lowered her gun and dropped it on her ransacked bag. Ignoring the intruder now expected guest, she walked between the flowing curtains and regained her stance staring at the stars.

"We need to talk." He replied.

"About?"

"I have only have one question…" He moved to put his lighted cigarette between his lips. His hand reached inside his coat pocket simultaneously pulling out what he was looking for.

"I'll try to answer it, but you know the rules." Exhaustion overcame her, her eyes closed as she felt him come up behind her. She really wanted to talk with him. Maybe he had the answers to her questions. Maybe he could be of help. "I apparently have something you want to know. You have something I want to know."

Nikita waited as each second passed. Feeling him move to lean against the doorjamb on her right, she knew her bargain had paid off. But then, she didn't know what he wanted yet.

Pushing an enlarged photo into her hands, he sneered. "What the hell is this?"

Opening her eyes, Nikita focus on the glossy paper thrust into her hands. Even with the dim light she could see what it was. It lay before her in black and white. Skin, laughter and rumpled bed sheets. How? Who? Why?

"What may I ask is one of Section One's top operatives doing in BED with Red Cell's number one Hit Man?" He was surprisingly calm considering all the history between the two organizations. "Well?"

Not looking at the paper in front of her, for there was no need to the image was permanently ingrained in her brain, she caught his gaze. She was torn. How much to tell? How much to give so that she could get in return?

"A mission. He is part of a mission."

Not satisfied in that answer, he waiting in impatient silence.

Understanding his position, she continued after a deep breath. "He and I have a common goal. George arranged it." She recognized the shock and anger reflected in his gaze, it had been in hers once before months ago. "We are mid sequence right now, I have no choice but to continue."

Reigning in his furry, he understood her position. He himself had placed her in such scenarios before. She had little control. Just a pawn in a much larger game. He still didn't like it, but then he might be able to use this to his advantage.

"Change in plans. At the end of this mission, I want you to bring him in. He could be very useful."

Shaking her head, she opposed his request. "He is more useful to us out in the open. In time I can tell you, but now you have to trust me. Taking him in is the last thing you want to do." Wadding the photo up in her clenched fist, she rolled it up into an angry ball. "How did you get this? From who?"

"We don't know. Madeline received the transmission this morning…" He paused knowing his next statement would spurn Nikita into action "…so did Michael."

The implications hit her at once. The one on the forefront was that George wouldn't tip Section off on his Council of Six. He enjoyed tormenting them too much. He got his thrills out of dangling the future existence of they organizations over their heads. He relished in having his personal army to manipulate. If it wasn't George, who was it? This was turning into a serious problem.

Belatedly, her heart ripped apart with rage at what Michael might think. She left his arms abruptly, and the next day he sees the evidence of her with another. Oh God, were things ever going to get easier for them?

Watching the reactions floating over her face, he was impressed. She had changed. No longer did she allow others to read her reactions. Only those who knew her well could see past the mask she was slipping into place. He made it his business to know her comings and goings, her thoughts and her fears. It was the only way he stayed on top for so long.

Distracting her from her contemplation, he knew it was time to pay the piper. "What is it you want in return?"

Turning her back on him, she made her way to the kitchen. Pulling out two glasses, she proceeded to fill then with Scotch and soda. Handing his glass to him, she looked into his face and waited.

He tried with a levity he did not feel, "That bad?"

"No, I just require a straight forward answer." Taking a sip of the bitter liquid, she used the stinging sensation to propel her question. "George... do you trust him?"

Thinking long and hard. He gave her an unbelievably honest answer. "I used to."

"Now?"

Finishing off the last of his Scotch, he walked towards the door. Turning toward her with his hand on the knob, he spoke only two words yet they held a world of meaning and warning. "Be Careful."

With that he left…and Nikita sighed…Things were not turning out well at all...

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

Part 8:

Nikita was getting absolutely no where. Expanding her parameters again, she sat with her cup of tea and waited. This was the fourth search she had made on the database widening the criteria with each consecutive try. Discovering up any intelligence regarding possible motives for George's behavior was turning out to be a rather futile attempt. Somehow she just couldn't let it go. She didn't like loose ends when it came to the Council. She had too much at stake.

The cursor methodically blinked on the screen, as it showed the passage of time. She had reviewed all the missions that the Council had been on, and any related situations between the Agency and Section One. She had even cross-referenced any known activity with the 4 other subversive organizations. The only correlation she could come up with was the increase in operative involvement directly with intended and unintended adversaries. It was a 20% difference from last year. Most could be chalked up the loss of manpower from Red Cell, but there was more behind it. She just couldn't grasp what it was. The blocks were somewhere in the gigabytes of data at her fingertips, she just hadn't found the keystone yet.

Operatives were scurrying around her, making Nikita aware that a shift change was in progress. **Good lord, up for another 18 hours straight.** She hadn't realized how focused she had become on her task. She had started off the morning handling detail after detail for the Council. Finally after all contingencies and fail-safes had been tested and re-tested, she forwarded the individual tacticals and schematics for George's approval.

It had only taken him 40 minutes to send his endorsement. There was no way he could have reviewed all the information given to him in that amount of time. She had made several crucial modifications to his original plan, and she had expected some resistance. She had planned on defending her position with the proper facts and figures, as she would have with Operations or Michael. She had anticipated some form of confrontational dialogue. The lack of it only caused the tightening of her stomach to increase.

Shortly after receiving his transmission, Nikita had alerted the rest of the Council. The proper information had been downloaded via a secure link to the individual members. The mission, if all went well, would go down in 11 days. The location was in Devonshire, England.

Nikita was still uncomfortable with the lack of information provided. She was distressed that something had been left out again, something that would hinder closure. O'Malley had drawn a blank in his exploration, as had the rest of her team. They were all at a loss. None of them felt secure. But at least with them all on the look out, they could make a united front against any unforeseen hostilities.

The flashing of the cursor stopped, as the magic words appeared on her screen [Estimated Time of Completion: 6 hours 45 minutes]. She might as well try to get some sleep, and start back on this when she was refreshed. Heading to her Section Quarters, she altered her course to stop by Michael's office. Darkened with inactivity and vacancy, she left a message that she needed to see him.

Maybe he could shed some light on this, she just had to be cautious of how much information she parted with. Aside from that, she needed to explain. She hadn't seen him since the night they celebrated her birthday. The night she went into the arms of another man. A night that seemed a lifetime away. A night that seemed to only be a dream.

As her head hit the pillow, she succumbed to sleep immediately. Blocking out the world that was Section, as she experienced the world of dreams. A world were there was normalcy and love and… Michael.

As she slept, an alarm was going off within the deep recesses of the databanks of Section One. A notification was being sent. She had stumbled across something unknowingly. She had triggered an alert…. Someone was not going to be pleased…

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

Part 9a:

“Hey Lover Boy. What’s up?” Shivers went down his spine, as her quietly seductive whisper floated over his ear.

Still keeping his eyes on the screen, he absently turned his head for a kiss. There could only be one person in at this time of the morning. He hadn’t seen her in 2 days, and he missed her. Two lips touched, and surprise registered on both faces. Birkoff knew immediately whose mouth it was not. In fact, it belonged to one he once longed for. Now they were the closest things to siblings what Section One had. Turning a bright shade of magenta, he swiveled his chair around in a burst of energy nearly knocking Nikita over. Looking past her, he relaxed upon seeing Gail’s empty desk. Gail liked Nikita, but was unbelievably jealous of his friendship with her. She would never let him live down his once crush on the statuesque blonde. This scene if observed would have thrown his current paramour over the edge, and an angry redhead was something he could do without.

Nikita was so shocked, that she barely moved. **Well that was interesting** Watching him turn the shade of her long johns, Nikita decided to let him off the hook with her sarcastic charm. “Oh I see how it is, while the cats away….”

Her chuckles turned into all out laughter as Birkoff held his head in his hands. “Uhm…sorry about that.” Stammering out a reply, he finally had the courage to look into her face. Her amusement was catching, soon a he couldn’t suppress his grin.

“How many times have I told you to stop sneaking up on me?” He tried to look upset, but failed miserably. Turning his chair back, he tried to refocus on his work. “What do you want anyway.”

“Well if you’re going to be snippy about it…I got a message you wanted to see me.”

Finally remembering the messenger task that Michael gave him, papers went flying onto the floor as he started a hasty search. He absolutely hated it when they used him as their errand boy. He really needed to work up a SIMM calculating the ramifications of the revenge he planned. Pulling a folded paper from the mess on the floor with her name scratched on the front, Birkoff sighed in relief. He could be left alone…FINALLY.

He barely registered Nikita’s thanks, while he knelt on the floor muttering about the new Paperless Office plan Section was to implement.

She read the hand written note on her way to check the status of her latest her search. She grinned at his words. He at least wasn’t ignoring her. Looking at her watch, she noticed she had a couple of hours to kill before she met Michael. Back to the grindstone it would be.

Discarding the scrap as trash, she went along with her business. She never noticed the hand that picked it up. She never noticed another reading what it said as they relayed the information into a cell phone.

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

Part 9b:

The resemblance was remarkable.

In contrast to the graceful pacing back and forth, the tension was palatable under the surface. It held a controlled rage. You could see it in his dark green eyes. Each step he calculated. Each step he contemplated. Each step putting him closer to those who viewed his life for their enjoyment.

They were his intended prey, if the opportunity ever presented itself. For years they sat by manipulating him. For years he had no choice but to be owned. He was torn from his home. Ripped from his family at an early age. So young and careless, he didn’t know any better. His innate curiosity and naiveté was his downfall.

Now he was forced to live within the confines of the life of their choosing, not his. Abruptly shoved into an alien world with new pitfalls and dangers, it so different from all he had known. Their walls and their bars restricted him from the freedom he so desired. The freedom to truly live. Yet in spite of it all, he had learned to survive. He bid is time…just waiting…. waiting…waiting for the moment when he could regain, if only a fraction, of what he had lost…

The resemblance was remarkable.

The movement of the caged beast mesmerized Nikita. Her sympathy and compassion innately drawn to him. His coat of black, his eyes of green and the pain so deep it brought tears to her eyes. Back and forth he paced, never cowering in the corner in fear. He was always alert, always ready. Ready if any opportunity presented itself for freedom, for revenge. He had courage. He had heart. He had the will to survive. But most importantly, he had hope. Hope for a different future, even if it was one he had to work toward every day of his life.

A gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder drew her attention away from the Jaguar. Peering at him through her sunglasses, she was silently relieved he had shown up. She knew he would keep his word, but she still worried about the impact of the picture.

“You wanted to see me?” He was straight to the point. His words were blunt and stark, in total contrast to the gentle squeezing of his hand on her flesh. His fingers idling ran across her skin, taking in her warmth and branding her with his presence. That was all it took. One touch and she was his.

Nodding her head, Nikita tried to piece together how to proceed. There was so much she wanted to say.

“Interesting place…. I never pictured you as one to frequent a zoo…”

“I come here sometimes to think, to get away.” Michael moved to sit next to Nikita. One hand rested on her leg, the other held a mass of cotton candy. The look of joy in her eyes was breathtaking. Michael always admired her innocence and zest for life. She found such joy in the little things.

Taking a blob of gooey spun sugar that he offered to her, she instinctively knew that “they” were okay. In companionable silence, the sat and watched the dark one watch them.

Knowing she owed him an explanation, she proceeded. “About the pic…”

He interrupted. “It was a mission Nikita, I know that.” In my head, he thought. His heart was a different matter. “I know who O’Malley is Nikita. I know he’s with Red Cell, and I know it has to do with George.”

Shaking her head in understanding, Nikita slid her hand in his. They had never talked about his rescue of her at the end of the war with the Synod. She knew what it had taken for him to even approach, let alone work with O’Malley. But he did it for her. For her, he ignored his desire for revenge. For her, he had partnered with the enemy.

Removing his hand from her grasp, he pushed back a wayward piece of her hair. Something else was bothering her.

“What is it?”

He could read her so well. He had made bringing up her request rather easy.

“I need information…”

Nikita proceeded to enlighten him. She expressed her doubts, her fears and her concerns. Yet she still held back the overall premise of the Council. She refused to sign his death warrant.

As she proceeded, Michael’s complex mind was working through all the past missions that Section had recently done. He then backed up and took a look at the bigger picture. He was not privy to the Council’s information, or what she had gleaned from the other members of her team. But for once in his life, he trusted his gut instinct. There were no concrete facts, but she was definitely on to something. They just had to figure out what it was before it destroyed them all.

“…the excessive torture…George’s actions…now the picture. Something is up. Can you help me?” Nikita didn’t really need to ask, she had seen Michael switch to mission mode minutes ago. They may not have chosen the life they led, but it was still life. More importantly…the devil that you know is much better then the devil that you don’t.

Shaking his head in agreement, he prepared to leave. Getting to his feet, he pulled Nikita to him. Idly running his hand through her hair, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. As they made their way to the entrance of the zoo, they both were silent. Each was contemplating the severity of the situation.

Michael was bothered by something else as well. For the first time he realized how much his “Kita” had changed. The free spirit was still there. But like now there were moments that were all Section. The duality of her spirit floored him. For years he had been training her to perfect it. Now she was tinged with the colors of the Section and it ate away at his conscience. She had become this because of him…

They separated in the parking lot with a nodded goodbye. As he walked on the sidewalk toward his car, Michael watched a black Mercedes speed out of it’s parking stall. He ignored the car as it peeled toward the exit. He put it from his memory until a blood-curdling scream filled the air. Turning around, reality went into slow motion.

All he saw was Nikita… Her blonde hair rolling over the hood of the car…Her body hitting the glass windshield…Her broken body falling to the pavement as the car speed out of the parking lot.

All that could be heard was an anguished cry resembling a howl of a wounded animal.

Neither noticed a man lifting his cell phone… “It’s done…”

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

Part 10: NC17 – very disturbing…

Violent tremors coursed through him as he got the news. His maniacal grinned widened as he listened to the details. Oh the pain… such wonderful pain and he was the cause. His body shivered as he tried to picture Nikita’s body meeting metal. Her blonde hair whipping around as glass fragments embedded itself in her scalp. He felt himself harden as the scene played out in his head. Fair skin being stained by blood as the asphalt rubbed brutally over her unconscious body. He had heard Michael’s anguished cry through the cell phone. That alone would have been enough to bring him over the edge. But the combination of death, suffering and his experienced hand hurled him toward a release like none he had had before.

As he looked down at his soiled clothes, what was left of his sanity returned. It was such a shame that he had to get rid of her, but she had stumbled upon secrets that were not meant to be revealed. Did she really think he didn’t know what she had been up to? Did she really think he would sit by as she plotted to destroy him? He knew her innate curiosity. She was like a street cat, always landing on her feet and too cunning for her own good.

Knowing there were bound to be fallout from his little foray with death, George tapped into Section’s computer system through his own special back door hoping for another thrill. The autopsy and ensuing report would be filed in a few hours, but he wanted to monitor incoming communications. He wanted to hear Michael’s tormented call informing his leaders of Nikita’s passing. After weeding through a few well-placed roadblocks, he finally tapped into Housekeeping and Medlab. What he found took all of his enjoyment out of his demented sexual release.

His face drained of all color. He gripped his handset with such force that it broke in miniscule pieces. Frantically digging through his briefcase, he dug up his cell phone. In a quiet but deadly tone, he waited for the line to be picked up.

“Can’t you two do anything right. You are incompetent. Destroy any evidence and report back immediately.”

He hung up abruptly, and threw the device against the wall. This changed everything. He should have known never to send members of the Observer Force to do a Cold Op job. Looking through the files, he knew he couldn’t use anyone else. He would have to do the deed himself. Nikita would never return from her next Council mission. They would both die.

As he planned their demise, he started to feel that rush again. Leaning his head back, he let the images float through his mind. He would kill both of them with his own hands. Their lives slipping away drop by drop. Their cries already echoing in his ears as his body shook with spasms in renewed pleasure.

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

Chapter 11:

Michael’s world had been thrown into a deep abyss the instant he had watched Nikita roll off the speeding car. It had momentarily shattered what was left of his heart, as he raced to her side. Brushing droplets off her cheek, he looked up at the sky expecting rain. Only then did he realize, it was his tears on her face. His green eyes in agony as their moisture spilled over his cheeks and onto her.

Pulling himself together mentally and physically, he forced himself into mission mode. Searching the scene for any clues, he came up empty handed. The car was nondescript and no plates could be seen. The nausea in his stomach was getting worse, if that was possible. This was no ordinary run of the mill hit-and-run. This was just a plain Hit.

Checking Nikita for the seriousness of injuries, he was relieved to find her chest rising and falling in a normal breathing pattern. She was rather banged up, but for outward appearances he had seen her worse. His main concern was for the internal damage that could be slowly killing her as he knelt there. The pavement was sprinkled with her blood, but the amount was minor compared to what it could have been.

Carefully he secured her neck and checked the back of her head. As she moaned in discomfort, Nikita turned her head away from his probing caress. Another obstacle down, she could move. He neck didn’t appear to be broken. Michael wasn’t sure about her ribs, but he knew her head would hurt like hell. She was going to be in pain for a while, and the part of him that was connected to her regretted it. His selfish side blatantly stepped forward and reminded him that only those among the living felt pain. Thank God she was alive.

Pulling out his cell phone as he ran his other hand over her pale and bruised cheek, Michael placed the call and waited.

The time stood still for him. Only when Nikita opened her glazed over eyes in recognition did he let himself breathe again. She tested each limb with cautious movements and grimaced as the dull aches turned into overwhelming hot lances. Struggling against Michael as he held her still, she almost blacked out from the physical exertion it required. Her vision turned from clear blue to a murky gray abruptly. Not being able to see caused Nikita’s anxiety to skyrocket. The only thing that calmed her was Michael’s soft voice whispering in her ear telling her it would be okay.

Section arrived 5 minutes later. They reported in their debriefing that they found Nikita with her head cradled in Michael’s lap. His head bent to her ear murmuring soft words of comfort.

As they lifted her damaged form into the ambulance, Nikita grasped Michael’s hand. Tugging it toward her, she spoke only for his ears.

“I’m…. right... aren’t... I...?” Brushing her blood matted hair, all he could do was squeeze her hand. He knew she was right. He didn’t like the implications of it, but he knew she was right.

Nikita succumbed to darkness as they reached Section One’s compound. They tried to wheel her away from him, but thought differently when they looked into his eyes. He was not leaving her to face the unknown dangers alone. He owed her that much. He owed himself that much.

Only after Dr. Dixon’s update, did Michael breathe a silent sigh of relief. They were the most beautiful words he could hear. “No internal injuries…”

Walking to her bedside he noticed two other figures in the room. They came to get information. He knew he couldn’t address their concerns without proof. No action would be taken on his or more importantly Nikita’s word alone. He knew he needed to trust someone, but Operations and Madeline did not fit the bill. By the time they left Medlab, Nikita’s accident had been classified as a freak accident. No information could be found at the scene, and the driver had disappeared.

The heart beat monitor was Michael’s metronome as his fingers played out a music-less symphony on his laptop. Sitting by her bedside he began his task of wading through the volumes of data Nikita’s search had flagged. He needed to get to the bottom of this. Somewhere among the countless bits and bytes lay the answers to his questions. Why was she in danger? And who was the source? George or ???

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

Part 12:

Three days had passed and Nikita was on the road to recovery. The bruises on her arms had faded from the dark navy blue to a light purple. The ones on her back and chest still were prominent on her skin, but not that noticeable when she donned clothes. Her hair was not matted with blood and gravel, but reflected the florescent light hiding the wounds in its glare. Every day Michael would watch her struggling through physical therapy. She was a woman possessed. She was compelled to get up to speed. In fact, Michael didn’t blame her. He tried to slow her down at times, but he understood what drove her.

It was hard enough to fight a foe that you know in the shape she was in. But to have a confrontation with an unknown adversary who was bent on taking your life would mean sure death for Nikita. So she sat, pushing the weight bar up and down in a rhythmic motion. The pain contorting her beautiful features as each muscle screamed. At times her gaze was focused on an unseen foe. At times it would hold Michael’s eyes telegraphing to him what this endeavor was costing her.

What Michael didn’t know is that Nikita was not only preparing for the fight of her life. She still had her Council mission to complete and her downtime was almost at an end. 32 hours. She had 32 hours until she was to face them. She needed to be up to speed physically incase her well laid plans went awry. She had to be prepared mentally for dealing with George. Not the same George she met all those months ago, but the George he had become. The George, that if she admitted the truth, she was frightened of.

Adding to her worries, they weren’t any closer to the answer that loomed just out of their reach. There was so much data to go through, and time was running out. Her gut told her that the upcoming mission would not go right. She might not come back. Nikita wished that Michael would be there. But for the life of her, she refused to drag him into the fiasco called the Council. This was her problem and she had to deal with it.

Michael hadn’t left her side since she had been brought in. He was her self-imposed bodyguard. There had to be missions that he was supposed to be on. She didn’t know how he pulled it of, but she was grateful none the less. Any other time she would have rebelled at the situation, but Nikita desperately needed to be near Michael. She knew nothing would harm her while he was there. She knew she might not come back, and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

Nikita was being allowed to go home that evening. Gathering her gear, Michael watched as she made her way towards the exit. Her strides a little slow, but full of confidence. What she needed was to be taken care of, and that is what her intended to do starting with a warm bubble bath and a full rub down. Holding his breath, he made his way out the door. He hoped to not be interrupted, but that was not in the cards. The door to Section One’s tomb was barely opened, when Birkoff came rushing toward them.

“Operations’ wants you in his office now.”

Stopping he watched Nikita sag against the wall. She had worked out today and was exhausted, this trip home was doing her in.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned to dismiss Birkoff, but he had already left as quickly as he came.

“If you wait…” He started to say as he turned toward Nikita.

“No I’ll go home. Will you come by later?” She knew he would argue with her about being alone. “I’ll even drag Walter or Birkoff with me, okay?”

Rubbing his knuckles across her cheek, he nodded his head. Catching her eyes, green orbs shot a warning and an apology her way. Neither liked this situation, but it was out of their control. Turning he left her in the hall, as he made his way towards Walter’s area.

Coming up abruptly behind the weapons master, Michael didn’t mince words. “Take her home and take care of her.”

Turning around quickly, Walter only glimpsed Michael’s back. He suppressed the urge to salute his curt order, but all he did was call after Michael in assent. “Sure thing.”

One hour later, Michael could be found in mission gear heading off to parts unknown. No information had been given, but the request had come from so high up that Operations didn’t even have an idea. Michael wasn’t given the time to call Nikita. He had made the transport wait for 2 minutes as he charged Birkoff with taking care of Nikita. Via the cell phone he enlightened Walter of the possible danger Nikita might be in. This situation did not sit well with either of them. He believed the Someone that intended her to die, was removing him from her side.

As the jet raced through the sky, Michael prayed for the first time since he was a child. He hoped he hadn’t let the one he loved down…again.

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

Part 13:

"One more slice. You have to eat one more slice." The smell of mushrooms, pepperoni and grease wafted off the piece of pizza that Birkoff was waving in front of her. "You don't get any Oreo Ice Cream unless you eat this. Got it?"

Trying not to laugh, Nikita wanted to tell him that she didn't like Oreo Ice Cream. Rocky Road was her favorite. She didn't have the heart to do it though. Birkoff would have been appalled at her lack of taste. Leaning forward she grabbed at the pizza before it dripped cheese on the carpet. She'd eat the damn thing if it would just shut him up. "Okay fine, gimme it."

Walter and Birkoff had been entertaining her for hours. When Birkoff showed up at the door, it was hard not to suppress the disappointment on her face. She knew Michael had been pulled for an assignment, but she hoped he would return to her side. Carrying Pizza, Ice Cream and two old Bella Lugosi horror flicks, Birkoff become her second guardian angel of the night.

They poked and prodded at her. Throwing her into fits of laughter at each turn. She practically had to hold a gun to Walter to keep him from "helping" her with her bubble bath. Sleep was coming on strong, but they forced her to eat something. Michael had given them this assignment, and there was no way that they were going to be lax in their duties. If the truth were told, they would have coddled her anyway regardless of her injuries.

The hour got later, and her eyelids heavier. It took her 30 minutes to convince them that they didn't need to stay the night. She would be able to handle the boogieman if he decided to show up. And under no circumstances would she need Walter to sleep next to her for protection. Half way asleep and chuckling she was relieved to see them give in. But before they took off, she was lifted into strong arms and deposited in her bed. A movie was thrown in for her enjoyment, and Birkoff kissed her for the second time, even if it was only on the forehead.

It was hard to hold in her sigh of relief as they left. She knew it was unwise to be alone in this situation, but she would not let her friends be gun fodder. If the masked avenger came tonight, he would kill all he found. She could not rest knowing their deaths could be on her hands.

Deep in the night the breeze filtered through her window. Nikita's sleep was not fitful. The VCR tape has ended and the silent static and white noise maked a low drone throughout the room. Shivering in her dreams, Nikita struggled. A cold feeling seeping into her as it clenched her heart and mind. Even in her dreams the world was not right. The balance was upset. Her comfort level non-existent.

Her nightmares had decreased over the months, but the recent stress had made them return with renewed strength. A sheen of sweat laid over her and formed her bed clothes to her like second skin. Her face pictured torment and desperation as her mouth moved in silent screams. Her mind was lost to the night, to her blackest dreams and to her worst fears. Stolen by the demons she thought she had exorcised by her own hand.

~~~~~He was on his knees. The cold stone floor chaffing his pampered skin. The gun sounded.

~~~~~She was weeping into her hands. Her voice thick with an Irish accent as she begged for her life. The gun sounded.

~~~~~His body jerking forward as she pushed the clip into her gun. Tears ran down his face as he screamed curses at her in his Arabic tongue. The gun sounded.

~~~~~The Chinese silk of his shirt moved away from his back with every lash of her whip. Pleading for his life in three languages, it was useless. The gun sounded.

~~~~~Then she came to the last…Pulling him to his knees, she yanked his hair back by his ponytail. Playing with her prey, she let him bargain for his life. Thinking he had won, his cry came unexpectedly. The gun sounded.

~~~~~Once more she entered the abyss. Only this time her angel of light was not there to pull her from the spiraling darkness. The gun sounded.

Bolting upright, Nikita gasped for breath. It rushed into her lungs with desperation. The tears of her sleep had left wet trails down her cheeks. She was alive. As much alive as she was before the dream, but she was different. The haunting look had returned to her eyes. They were dead. They showed no life.

The phone rang. Pulling herself from her bed, she prepared to go. The meet had been pushed up. Nikita's mask was in place. A mission was at hand.

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

Part 14:

The countless strikes of the horses’ hooves echoed through the country grandstands. The dull sounds in contrast with the white linen table clothes and sparkling crystal that glistened in the afternoon sun. Society had come out on this Sunday afternoon, dressed in their finery to swelter in the afternoon heat, all in the name of sport. The English countryside was blanketed in a carpet of green, sprinkled with dustings of yellow, white and pink. The intoxicating smell of grass, flowers and horses hung heavy in the air.

A gentle breeze wafted towards the spectators as a flurry of activity moved down the field. Attractive and lean men held their mallets in the air ready to strike as their strategies played out. Admiring the life of the genteel, Nikita reminded herself of the reason she was here. All she had to do was move slightly in her confining dress, and a stab of pain would be her reminder. This was not a time of fun even though she was at a polo match. Like the other countless mission, this one was important even if the reason was unknown to her.

Looking around the brim of her floppy, useless and decorative hat, Nikita scoped out her prey. Her gloved hands reached for her champagne glass and brought it up to her lips. Dressed in a stunning, tight and fashionable creation of Navy and White, she understood how Eliza Doolittle might have felt in My Fair Lady. Trussed up in couture, sitting idly as men waited on her hand and foot. Only Eliza didn’t have to wear a corset with bruised ribs. Nikita had come so far from her life on the streets. But like Eliza, she mused that she would have been happier not knowing this life she was thrust into. But then again the damage had been done. She could no longer live that life anymore. She was different, her heart had found a desire and passion it had never knew existed. She was a slave to those feelings. If it were in her power, she would never abandon it again.

Her query was an unsuspecting female of obvious quality. Very petite and serene she seemed in this afternoon of social drudgery. George had told her she was a wife of an important politician. She was to become bait for one of his future schemes. This scenario didn’t fit especially after his blow up at the cabin, but she did what was required without argument for once.

George seemed to be teetering on the edge. One push would set him off, toppling him into a rage and rash thinking. She refused to be the one who was responsible. He still held all that was dear over her head, dangling like the preverbal carrot. He was waiting for her to make a mistake. In fact Nikita was getting concerned. He focused all his hate and spite on her more and more. The others had even mentioned it. O’Malley tried to deflect it with no luck. They may have come from different agencies, but they had a respect for each other. That respect had been forged from several strenuous and deadly missions. Warning after warning was given to her. She was just bidding her time to escape and return to the Section. She was actually looking forward to being back in the fold and oblivious to this new life.

“Target is spotted” Nikita said quietly while activating her transmitter in her earring.

Her team confirmed her assessment and prepared for the rest of the mission. Abruptly their conversation is interrupted with an unexpected voice booming over the comm set. “If you see her, take her out right now. I don’t care what is going on. NIKITA TAKE HER OUT OR I”LL TAKE YOU OUT.”

The realization of who the voice belonged to hit Nikita in an instant. What was George doing here? “Sir, we are following mission profile. We are to extract without drawing attention. No force is necessary per your final approval.” Nikita heard O’Malley talking to George like a two year old. She thanked the Gods that she wasn’t the one who had to bring that up. It had taken him a week to cool down after his last tirade at the cabin.

As O’Malley and George argued in her ear, Nikita was relieved that the time had arrived for sequencing. “Gentlemen, Intermission is about to start. We can proceed momentarily. Hernandez verify escape route.”

“All is ready.”

“Taylor proceed.”

Taylor clad in a waiters finest passed by their prey’s table with a champagne tray. He waylaid her as she was about to step among the crowd of spectators who where heading out on the field to replace the horses divots. Handing over a glass of slightly drugged liquid, he moved off as quickly as he appeared.

As the intermission bell was rung, the horses and their riders galloped off the field. Nikita slowly made her way to her sharply dressed query. Her glass raised gently as she sips the bubbling liquid. Dizziness overcomes Nikita’s unsuspecting victim. Looking up into pools of Azure, she takes the offer of assistance given. Leading her toward the facilities, Nikita claimed to all that might overhear that it must be the heat.

“I’ll help you. You’ll be all right in just a moment. Try to relax.” Nikita whispered. Reassuring her guest with what seemed genuine sincerity.

Turning the corner, the target surprisingly regained attentiveness. Her movements no longer slow. Nikita knew something would happen today, but this was definitely not it. They had been duped. Glancing down at her hostage, Nikita’s eyes tracked her smiling gaze. Seeing the sight before her, Nikita stops dead in her tracks.

George stood unmoving, with his face twisted in fury. Behind him, Michael stood. Dressed in a dark suit, his eyes registered shock at seeing her. Yet his gun never wavered. The gun he was holding to George’s head.

“What is going on?”

Without a word of explanation or warning, Michael pulled a syringe out of his pocket and stabbed the liquid into George’s jugular vein. Darkness overcame him, as his knees buckled and he plummeted to the ground. Two guns simultaneously found their targets. Unbelieving the scene before each of them, Nikita and Michael stared. Guns pointed towards each other.

A waking nightmare, this was their waking nightmare. Oh God! Who will pull the trigger?

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

Part 15:

Time stood still. Barrel to barrel pointed at each other’s chest. Their breathing rapid and fierce. Trying not to make sudden movements, each warred with an internal battle. Each had a mission of their own. Right now, their directives collided. For to complete each mission to satisfaction, the other needed to surrender or die.

For a tense two minutes they locked eyes. Neither would give way. Silently they stood, but an in-depth conversation was taking place via their eyes.

**Trust me** **I can’t, what the hell are you doing here?** **I won’t back down.** **Neither will I.** **Do it Nikita, Do it now.** **Why?** **For god sakes, do you want to die…just trust me.**

She lowered her weapon. But still kept it trained on her once captive beside her.

The woman finally spoke with a hint of amusement. “That was very wise of you Nikita. Your team is being restrained at the moment. Shall we talk? Their future and yours depends on the outcome of our discussion.”

Nikita and the ageless beauty beside her strolled among the others out onto the polo field. Idly replacing the ruffed up grass with their delicate shoes among the other tipsy and overdressed attendees.

“Who are you. What do you want?”

“All in due time. I am Adrian.”

“Agency?”

“Sort of. It is more complicated then that. We had noticed George’s decline in mental stability. Fearful of the consequences, he is being removed from active duty.”

Shocked and secretly relieved, Nikita also knew that a huge unknown was now in control. “You mean cancelled?”

“Possible but not before a few tests are run. His future is in his own hands, and contingent upon the outcome of his psychological evaluation.”

Nodding her head in understanding, Nikita waited for her to continue.

“I have been reading over his files. The Council has performed exceedingly well, especially under the direction of that madman. I do not think he expected you all to survive the ordeal with The Synod. You all stayed true with your training.” Gazing out from underneath her hat, Adrian stilled Nikita with the seriousness she presented. “I will be taking over control. Do you know what destruction George has done in the past year?”

“I can guess, we were becoming his army for personal revenge. Is that why he went after you?”

“My dear, he went after me just like he went after you. We both got too close.”

Shock tremored though Nikita’s mind but did not show on her exquisite face. He was the culprit. “The hit and run, the pictures? Why? All my actions were performed to his specifications.”

“Hit and run, yes. The picture lets just say that is another story for another day. In George’s mind he didn’t need a reason. He saw your strength. He saw your curiosity piqued and felt threatened. By the way, next time if you’re going to do an all out search, watch out for the alert files. Your power of persuasion and compassion frightened him. He saw your potential as his downfall.”

Looking for a distraction, she changed the subject. “You were surprised to see Michael.”

“What does he know?”

“Only bits and pieces. You two are an interesting team. From what I have seen your connection is very strong.”

“Strong enough. We are partners. He trained me”

Nodding her head, a laugh escaped. “Strong enough for him to save your life and risk his own by his unorthodox actions. My dear, did he train you in love as well?”

Raising her champagne glass to her lips, Nikita studied the woman in front of her. She was slightly older then Madeline, with her dark blond hair pulled into a neatly coifed chignon. Violet eyes peered at her through long thick eyelashes. Her skin was peaches and cream, and her lips tinted the color of strawberries. She was so feminine, so unobtrusive. She was the most open as any she had encountered in this industry. But she knew that thought was deceptive. Underneath the linen and lace was a will and heart of steel. She was one of the best. Her layers were complex and more deadly then any other. She was a human black widow. Elegance, grace and death. She consumed life and those around her for entertainment.

“Adrian, why do you ask questions when you so obviously know the answers?”

Raising her glass in a toast of acquiescence, she drew a breath. “Nikita, unspoken answers are not as enlightening as those that have a voice. I’ll tell you a secret that Madeline should have informed you long ago. Sometimes the answers are not as important as the way they are given. Verbal inflection and body movement are the keys to the souls of many who hide their reactions.”

“Why tell me this?”

“You should learn from the best. And I am it. There will be a time when you might even surpass me. That is if you are giving the proper tools and training.” She was amazed that the leaders of Section One didn’t fully comprehend the promise that this one had. She was intriguing. Put together with the other enigmatic operative she had met earlier, they would be unstoppable. They were both fated for more then Section One.

Nikita was floored by Adrian’s implication. She wanted to profess her lack of desire to become such an individual, but underneath she knew she was already partway there. George had forced that into her soul, and she had not fully recovered. Adrian could look in and see that part of her. The part of her, Nikita was trying to ignore. The part of her that was becoming more Section, and less innocent. Power and the thirst for its high was spreading cell by cell as it slowly ate away at who Nikita really was.

“What now?” ** For me? For Michael? For the future**

“You both shall return. When you get back, give Michael a full debrief. Help him see the severity. If he can’t deal with it, you know what to do.” Pausing for effect, Nikita grasped her meaning. “Guide him into our world. Open his eyes to our reality. No others are to know. Understood? Once that is done, the Council will have another member. The team that has become Section One’s best is vital to my designs.”

“But…” Nikita stopped. She had longed to tell Michael of all that was going on. But she feared that he might see how much she had changed. She had been able to lock away her Council soul and persona much like Michael slipped on his mission mask. Nikita had always seen his duality. Michael hadn’t been allowed to glimpse her split personality. How would he react? She knew she needed him. He had been her lifeline to sanity. His name alone had pulled her back from the brink. This development might destroy the union between them. Adrian could put asunder what all others had failed at doing. She could destroy their relationship.

“Nikita. Do not fail. Make him understand and except it. It is now his life as it is now yours.” Slowly she turned and walked away. Pausing for a moment, Adrian turned and smiled. “By the way, I’m sure that Marcus and Madeline will have many questions. Please inform them of the shift and send them my regards.” Adrian briefly saw the pleasure course through Nikita at the thought of being the bearer of said news. ** Good Girl ** Turning her back once more, she went in search of her handsome escort.

In her ear, Nikita heard her team check in and demand an explanation. They sounded annoyed, but none the worse for the ordeal. Scratching her earring and activating her transmitter once again, she barked out orders to her team. “Abort mission. Regroup at rendezvous point in two hours. I’ll give you a full debrief then.”

Searching for Michael, she glimpsed his figure escorting her new boss into a Limousine. Before stepping into the black beast, he withdrew his sunglasses and caught her glance. They would talk another time. He did not know what was going on, but he vowed to not be in the dark any longer. He was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it meant wringing the truth from the lovely neck he always protected.

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

Part 16:

“whirllllsssshhhh….kboom…muahaahaahaa….You won’t escape me now!” Childish laughter burst forth out of George’s mouth. The once great and powerful man now sat cross-legged on the floor of his new room. His once proudly kept physique and impeccable clothes were gone. He was wearing a ratty black t shirt and matching sweats soiled from spilt food and multiple days use. The color was in contrast to the stark white padded walls. He was the only hue, the only break in the continuity of white. He was at last the center of his own universe. Nothing else existed for him.

With a big crayon in his hand, he sat idly drawing obscure stick figures planning unforeseen missions. His joy was not in the planning of the missions, but in determining what a worthy prize for his efforts as well as inflicting pain on his subjects.

“The Tower of London. I want them to bring it to me brick by brick.” He grinned, but crossed it off his list as another idea sprouted forth.

“Hmmm.. the Taj Mahal. All that marble and gold and jewels.” He jumped up and down at the idea. How about…

“Italy. Mussolini owes me. Even the Pope will bow down to my greatness. I want Italy. Time to call in a favor.” Working out his deranged plans, he started to debrief his armies on the upcoming mission. Pacing back and forth, he rattled on for hours. His army standing at silent and lifeless attention. They were so good. They didn’t ask any questions. They only did what he wanted them to do. He cackled at the thought of world domination. It would all be his.

He played out mission after mission with his little toy soldiers. Only two were singled out to be named. All the rest were unacknowledged and soulless play-things. He enjoyed mutilating his two special warriors and killing them at every turn. They were the ones he sent into torture. An evil glint came into his eyes, as he picks up the one named “Adrian”. Pulling at her body, he ripped off her head. Putting it into his mouth, he gnawed on the plastic till it was unrecognizable. Then he discarded her in his “Treasure Pile”. Proud of his accomplishment, he turned to the other pawn.

Crawling over to where he discarded her earlier, George yanked the Nikita doll out of the arms of her protectors. Stripping her of imaginary clothes, he stabbed at her chest and face with his red crayon. The wax staining the doll in the exact places he wanted inflict her wounds. As her pleading and yelling continued, George lets loose a shout of victory. He threw back his head as maniacal laughter spills forth like an unending stream. It resonated around the sound proof room. His torment and dementia only heard by him, and the one that was watching his downward spiral of rationality.

Shivers ran up her spine, as the psychotic sound filled her office. Shaking her head, she realized how lucky they were to all get out alive. He had been pushed over the edge. Scorning all that he thought stood in his way. It was a fine line between sanity and insanity in this world they called their own. Too much compassion or not enough could be the deciding factor. Too much and the mission and overall goal were blurred. Agendas would not be followed. Not enough, and George’s condition was the result. All value of life, death and power became warped.

Adrian wished at times like these that she could have remained oblivious. With the introduction of knowledge and power, lunacy could creep in without knowing and take that which was held precious. It would eat away at who you were, and only a conscious effort waged every minute of every day would keep you a step ahead of following George’s fate.

Gazing around her office she took in the comfortable surroundings. The French parlor design held a certain femininity, and yet enough unrestrained power, that it fit her well. It could lull unsuspecting individuals to trust or overlook the woman behind the desk. That was the intent. Oh but if you were her unprepared prey, those actions would very soon lead to your demise. Amid Louis IV furniture and French Impressionist paintings, she sat and oversaw her new empire. The mix of styles and genres spoke wonders to those astute enough to see the meaning underneath.

To see Adrian, to know Adrian was to comprehend the strength and steel she held so close to the surface. She had waged many a battle with insanity, but she had come out on top, at least up to this point. But each war would weaken her a little bit more. She knew her time would come, thus not resenting it she planned for the future. Madeline was doing well, but Nikita had caught her eye. It would take more time, but she knew which one would excel if prepared properly. Thus the training of her hand picked team had begun.

Sipping a cup of tea, Adrian resigned herself to the truth. Her flesh was still puckered from watching George chew on what in his mind was her head. There was nothing that could be done to save him. He was lost. Depressing the intercom, she spoke the words that would seal his fate.

“Do it.” Her eyes glued to the screen. An invisible gas began filling George’s chambers. If it stayed true to its effects, George would feel nothing.

He slipped into a deep sleep just before his lungs started to shut down. A single tear rolled down her cheek, at the sorrow that it had come to this. She had admired this man. He had been good once. But she knew it was his own carelessness with his soul that led him to this point.

Wiping away the liquid streak on her face, she disengaged the feed. Leaning her head back she whispered a send off to the former head of underground Terrorism and Anti-Terrorism. “Please welcome ‘The Gladly Dead’.” Silence filled the room as the words of her incantation muddled through her mind. She was speaking them for George as well as for herself.

“The downward spiral takes us one by one
Each pass twisting the sanity God made
It drains the mind and soul
Till all that is left is the Gladly Dead

It takes the Gladly Dead in one last bite
Their journey is complete
The suffering they caused ceases to harm
Yet their torment has only begun

So stay away from the Downward Spiral
Turn your back on it’s call
For once you start the trip
Escape is useless for all

Guard yourself from accepting the power
Run away from it’s high
Protect your soul, hold your heart
Or the Gladly Dead is nigh.”

Turning from her moment of mourning and self-pity, she focused on her new team. Oh the things she had planned. She wished Nikita well with her assignment. Adrian needed them both. Their ultimate strength came when they were together.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nikita saw him the moment she entered Section One. His green gaze unreadable to those around him, but spoke volumes to her. Shaking her head in understanding, she ignored the silent request from Operations and Madeline. She walked directly into his office and waited for him there.

Getting up from his chair at the conference table, Michael purposely strolled towards his domain. The answers to his questions were on the other side of the door. He almost didn’t want to know. If it were anybody other then Nikita, he would leave it alone. But unknowns with her could get her killed. That was unacceptable. He needed to understand so he could fulfill his pledge. His pledge of protection. His unspoken pledge of love.

Crossing the threshold, he shut the door on the Section. Turning off the surveillance, he looked at her expectantly. He would not ask. He knew he shouldn’t. She had to make the move. It was her life and his heart in the balance.

Taking a deep breath, Nikita silently whispered a prayer for support. She knew that after this conversation, they could be no more. She knew her lifeline could be ripped away. Would she be left in the dark? Would he desert her?

“Michael, we need to talk…”

To be continued in the next story…

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

“Downward Spiral” based on the poem called “The Gladly Dead” by Charles Baudelaire

“In a soil thick with snails and rich as grease
I’ve longed to dig myself a good deep grave,
There to stretch my old bones at ease
And sleep in oblivion, like a shark in a wave.

Wills I detest, and tombstones set in rows;
Before I’d beg a tear of anyone,
I’d rather go alive and let the crows
Bleed the last scrap of this old carrion.

O worms! Black comrades without eye or ear,
Here comes a dead man for you, willing and gay;
Feasting philosophers, sons born of decay,

Come burrow through my ruins, shed not a tear;
But tell me if any torture is left to dread
For this old soulless body, dead as the dead?”

---

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