Betrayal...

Each word out of her mouth seized his chest in a vice-like grip. A simple phrase and following sigh moved the clamp tighter. Fighting against the approaching abyss, air fled from his lungs. Dull ringing blocked out all sound as it echoed through his ears. Vision once clear now became a misty haze. Her words finally had meaning. Could he? Could he betray Section One?

He was his honor. So much he had given up to lead this life. Could he abandon that as well? That's all that remained of who he really was. In truth, it was the only barrier separating him from whom he fought. He was known for his cold unfeeling stature, that he understood. If they only knew however, how deep his emotions ran. The cry of the innocents haunted his dreams. The pictures of their painful deaths stayed fresh in his mind. Each tiny salted tear wrenched his gut. Yet behind a mask, he hid. Outwardly he was a blank slate. A perfect silver reflection of Section's domain. With cold demeanor, he let the injustices come. He watched the grizzly reality of his world run roughshod over the helpless. All the while telling himself good was being achieved. More lives would be saved than lost. He had to believe in that. It was his survival.

To become a pawn...to sever his miniscule tie to decency, could he do it? She beckoned him to give up the last vestige of his soul. Normally Nikita had only but ask and it would be hers. But this? To follow behind an unknown, control would have to be relinquished. His zone of comfort would exist no longer. Could he really forsake all that he strove so hard to protect? He was honor and loyalty. Without those beacons of goodness, who was he? So ingrained within him, he was fearful their absence would leave a withered husk. Could he foresake them? Could he betray himself?

Moving to the stone mantle, the glorious display of crackling fire drew Nikita in. Sitting down on the hearth, heat enveloped her within airy arms. She could only hope the warmth would hold at bay the iciness that seeped in. The temperature was mild even cozy, but pure fear and resignation chilled her from the inside out. Mesmerized by living flame, Nikita wrestled her own demons. It was time to say goodbye. Her only concern was whether she was strong enough to do what had to be done.

Bolstered by the inevitable and the fact that time was running out, she drew on hidden reserves of strength and courage. With deadly calm, she addressed the man who would always own her heart whether it be in life or death.

"Join the Council." Her soft voice echoing off the walls

Only the sudden intake of breath acknowledged that he had heard her. Turning to face him, she saw his mouth try to formulate words, but no sound came. The look of frustration on his chiseled features almost spurned her to his side. She wanted to make this all go away, but understood that the time for dreams and wishes had passed. She had used up her last one during the night.

"We can finally be together."

Nikita knew what she asked of him. She could feel the pain and torment that her request was putting him through. She was certain of his answer as well. She was counting on it.

His eyes closed against the fury he knew was to come. With a quiet tormented voice, he answered. "I...I can't."

Dropping her head with shuttered eyes, she hid the relief that was sure to be seen. He had made his choice. The only choice he could make. Mixtures of emotions ran the gauntlet. Her plan was working, but somewhere deep inside a little girl huddled and cried.

"I can't go back, Michael." Nikita slowly rose to her feet and walked away from the comfort of the morning fire. Moving to middle ground, her voice was hushed as she continued. "I won't go back...not even for you."

Turning toward her, his eyes said it all. Once green with passion and desire, they now held a pain so deep that it lanced her heart. Straightening his posture, he met her half way. "I know. Where then...Adrian?"

"Yes"

Nodding his head in understanding, he paused. There were always repercussions for not following orders. "What about..."

Interrupting him quickly, she waylaid his concern. "I can handle it Michael. I'll have too."

Feeling the time of departure was near; he memorized every feature on her beautiful face. The sparkle in her heavenly eyes would always shine within him. Moving to pull her into his arms, he was taken aback when she stepped out of reach.

"The question is, can you handle it?"

Shrugging his shoulders he responded. "There are always consequences."

She knew he hadn't thought about this long and hard. He didn't understand her question. "No, not with section... don't you get it yet Michael? I'm now the enemy... when I come in and wipe out your team. will you be able to let me walk away?"

Piercing him with vibrant blue, she closed in. "Can you face the knowledge... that you might be ordered to track me down and kill me?"

Michael stood still in awe as Nikita slowly circle him. Each phrase hitting him in the gut. "Will you be loyal to your Section then?"

"Will you Michael?"

"Will you?"

The beating of his heart stopped as reality returned with force. Staring in the eyes of a Valkiri bent on destruction, he concentrated on just the basic functions of life. Inhaling and exhaling sapped his strength. He was a man who faced danger and death everyday without being phased. Yet now, the thought of her as an enemy wounded him deeply. It was going so fast. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could see her blonde hair shinning in the moonlight as her rifle picked off his team. Next he surmised she would be Red Cell's liaison. His Nikita...his love...what could he do?

The cold steel of gunmetal pulled him from his reverie. Glancing down, he felt her slap a gun into his hand.

"Let's just get it over with now shall we?"

He watched in pure horror as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Beneath the fiery blue he saw a glimmer of desperation, as she muttered. "Just do it... save us all the trouble."

Motionless in shock he stood.

Reaching out, Nikita dragged his now deadly hand upward. Leaning forward, she pressed the muzzle of the gun into her forehead. Seconds ticked by as the gentle popping of the fire contrasted the seriousness of the scene.

"Pull it damnit"

Michael jerked slightly at the venomous tone of her voice. He had to...there was no other way. She was right. This was the only way he could really protect her. Yet he couldn't pull the trigger. His finger froze.

A voice husky from passion only hours before now yelled at him in anger. Glancing past the weapon of death, he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "God damn you! Pull it!!"

"PULL IT"

A harsh report filled the cabin as his hand jerked subconsciously. An acrid smell of sulfur wafted his senses as he realized his Section training had taken over. Hearing a sob from below, he watched her head lower in acceptance. He had missed.

The clamor of the gun bouncing off the wood floor echoed the thud as his knees dropped. He had almost done it. He had almost taken her life. It would have been a favor, but he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't rip his own heart from his chest. She would not die this day by his hand.

Raising his eyes he caught hers. Tears welled up and threatened to fall. Shaking his head in pain he watched her compose herself. They were beyond words. Nothing really could be said. He had failed her, and he knew it. Leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against her cheek, he immediately froze as she jerked her face away from him.

With a shake of her head, Nikita picked up the gun. With one last look of longing and sorrow she stood and moved towards the door. Grabbing her bag, she dared not turn around. She did not have the strength to look him in the eyes. To see his face or the way the firelight reflected off his auburn hair would shatter the last of her resolve.

Opening the cabin door, she let the world intrude into their haven of fulfilled and dashed dreams. As the morning breeze played with the door moving it to and fro, Nikita's feet refused to budge. Running her hand over the wood frame, she memorized the touch and feel of the surface. She was giving up her life for his. She felt compelled to protect him, because she had no other choice. Silently she prayed to any gods listening that he would never know the extent of her sacrifice

With a voice ripe with emotion, she bid him adieu "I never knew it would come to this...I never wanted it to... there's so much I ..."

Stopping as her voice broke, Nikita leaned her head back letting the morning sun dry the tears that threatened to fall. Softly, tenderly, she uttered the last word she would ever speak to her beloved... "Goodbye."

With a strength she did not know she possessed, she walked away from the most precious thing in her life. She left him there amid the cabin of their desire. He was on his knees broken while the fire crackled gently and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air.

Goodbye

***********

The once cheery hall no longer called out to her spirit. Making her way towards her final destination, priceless works of art showcasing their vibrant colors were ignored. Instead downcast eyes focused on the muted gray floor tiles as they passed beneath her one by one. She was a reflection of them now. In the past she had the vitality of Cesanne and the uniqueness of Picasso. Now the cold slate slabs lining the floor were kin. She was as they were, useful with no inner light calling for attention. Resolutely walking forward, one foot was placed in front of the other with streamlined precision. Her actions no longer flamboyant. Her stride nonexistent. She was economy of motion.

** click **

The rhythmical snapping of her heels sharply echoed its tune within the confined corridor. Halting, she rang for admittance. The door opened granting her access with a rush of air. Subconsciously straightening her shoulders, she entered the elegant office of her executioner.

Looking up with a genuine smile decorating her face, Adrian watched as her prize pupil came into view. "Nikita. On time as usual. Do sit down."

Taking the proffered seat, Nikita's movements lacked the flamboyant personality that usually shined from within. In a voice inert of passion, she responded. "Adrian."

The pale face staring back at her caused Adrian's breath to catch. Once luminescent, porcelain skin now pulled taut over facial bones. Hair previously shimmering like spun gold now cast a dull pewter hue. The beautiful vibrant woman she had come to know no longer existed in the operative seated before her. She had been dimmed. That could mean only one thing. "Michael?"

Staring straight ahead yet seeing nothing, Nikita took a deep breath and slowly shook her head.

Stifling a not so lady like expletive, the aristocratic Adrian let out a sigh. Ignoring the file that only minutes before held her attention, she calmly folded her hands in front of her. "I am disappointed in you, Nikita."

Laced neither with fire or ice, a strong voice filled the room. "I understand."

"You do. Don't you?"

Shaking her head in bewilderment, Adrian regarded her self appointed protege. Her potential had been astounding. With an unique mix of compassionate power, Nikita could have introduced a much-needed level of humanity within the world they lived. Her new understanding of necessity tempered with heart would have changed the face of their industry like none had before. Yet, it was not to be. Her heart, the very tool instrumental in her future, was to be the weapon of her demise. She was sacrificing herself for the soul of one man. A man better than most, but worse then some. Those were the rules of love. It was such a waste. "You would give up your life for his then?"

"Yes...I will...I have"

With a quick snap of her wrist, Adrian closed the folder littering her desk. Pulling her gold wire frame from her eyes, reading glasses were quickly discarded as the pounding in her temples increased its tempo. Delicate fingers pinched the bridge of her nose as the matriarch of the Council sat in disbelief. "You held such promise. You could have gone so far."

Tense silence was the only response. Nikita had made up her mind, and nothing was going to waylay her.

"You know what I must do." Adrian waited.

"Yes." Gaining her feet once more, Nikita nodded as she stood at attention. "I'm ready."

"Report to Hector for Processing. I will meet you there shortly."

Turning to leave, Nikita left Adrian behind with the same concentrated strength she had when entering. All outward emotion was stripped from her existence, just simple actions performed without feeling. She was walking toward her death, only she knew it was meaningless. Her real death had occurred hours before, in a little cabin, reflected in the eyes of the man she loved.

Saddened by the loss of one so young and promising, Adrian watched her depart. She knew she had no other choice, but resolved to make it quick and painless. It had to be done, her hands were tied, but Nikita deserved more kindness than George had received.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

One hour.

He had one hour before he had to report in. Haunting the shadows and alleys near Nikita's now abandoned apartment, Michael's mind heaved. Her absence was tearing him apart. He tried convincing himself she was only gone for a day or two, on a mission, something he could handle. It was pointless. The overwhelming despair of knowing he would never look upon her lovely face, he could not ignore. What frightened him most was the fact that Nikita was right. The day would come when they would face each other as enemies. Would he protect her, or would his targeting laser crease her forehead moments before his bullet found a home? He did not know.

Pushing those thoughts into the dark recesses of his mind, Michael focused on a more pressing issue. Section. If he weren't prepared, their reaction would be formidable. Until the time came to choose between pulling the trigger by his own hand and letting her live, his focus would be her safety. Her survival, his primary concern. He could suffer all pain and mental torment Section inflicted except knowing that his neglect caused her hardship.

Assuring himself she was kept out of harms way could only alleviate one of his fears. The other was rooted in a need he was even more reluctant to admit. He needed her...by his side...in his arms. That overpowering anxiety scared him the most. He had come to rely on her presence. Working side by side was now impossible. The days of her knowing his movements before he did were over. No longer would her spicy fragrance captivate him as she moved passed him in the hall. She was gone.

45 minutes.

Surrounded by sorrow and plagued with thought, Michael continued on. Even being in the alley behind her building comforted him. He found her spirit here. The spirit of life and of hope. He just prayed it would be enough to get him through. It had to be. If he didn't make it, who would guard her? He trusted no one. Actually, he didn't even trust himself. He had failed her so many times. But never again, failure was no longer acceptable.

In his contemplation, Michael made his first mistake. He dropped his guard. Rough hands gripped his shoulders and threw him into a brick wall. With split second Section reflexes, a hand stopped short of crushing his attackers windpipe. Looking into angry ice blue eyes, he relaxed his stance. O'Malley.

"What?"

Jerrod's hands continued to tighten on the black wool. "You damn fool."

Shrugging his shoulders, Michael tried to dislodge Jerrod to no avail. Raising his hands, he deliberately pried back finger after finger from the black fabric. Pushing O'Malley away with a slight shove, Michael stiffened. "Back off."

With short angry strokes, Michael brushed the wrinkles out of his mussed jacket. Stamping down the urge to lay the man before him out flat, he returned fiery outrage with blank emotion.

Incensed, Jerrod's gravely voice barked out the question. "How could you let her go?"

"I had to. It was the only way." Michael could barely look at the blue eyed devil that would now take his place by her side. He had given up the most important thing in his life, and Jerrod benefited.

"The only way...." A sneering laugh exploded from Jerrod. The man was truly clueless. "Do you have any idea what she did? What she gave up?"

Michael's face had no reaction, but underneath he seethed.

Spinning around, O'Malley started wearing down the asphalt with his pacing. Each stride stressed his point. "For once, think for yourself wonderboy. Did she tell you what Adrian does to those who fail? Did she? What do you think? She hands out Tea and cookies? Maybe a sharp slap on the hand? Get real..."

Michael moved to depart the alley, wanting to leave behind O'Malley and his accusations. He knew Nikita could handle it. She had to. It was the only way. Walking away, Michael uttered the words that hurt him the most. He despised himself for it, but forced the words anyway, "Take care of her."

"Take care of her?" Echoing in total shock, Jerrod lost it. "You fucking bastard!" With a bellow of grief and anger, Jarrod barreled into Michael's back smashing them into the rough brick of the alley walls.

Face to face, nose to nose and eye to eye, Jerrod spit out. "I..thought..you ..loved..her!"

With a roar of anger, Michael pushed away tackling Jerrod. Steel bands of flesh wrapped around his middle. Squaring off in the center of the alley, bone crushed against flesh as the fists flew. Gusts of air expelled as the force of each blow rained down.

Right hook....duck....jab....to the left...roundhouse kick....quick upper cut...block...

Michael landed a solid punch to Jerrod's face. Swollen from abuse, his lip burst. Answering with a hook to the left, knuckles pummel Michael's eye. It was all primal instinct, two men, the life of one woman in the balance.

Sweeping O'Malley's knees, Michael landed on top of his fallen opponent. His hand pressed against his throat as strong fingers contracted cutting off the ability to breathe.

Gasping as his vision became red, O'Malley rasped with what was left of his voice. "You've killed her you bastard..."

"No..." His chest seized while his mind tried to grasp the implications. **No it couldn't be...how could she...it was impossible...no...** Lost in thought, his fingers lost their purchase.

As air rushed into his oxygen deprived body, O'Malley wheezed. Not loosing sight of the final objective, Michael was flung onto his back with a flip of Jerrod's hips. Within seconds their positions were reversed.

Leaning forward, a forearm made contact with Michael's throat. Jerrod forced Michael to look at him as pressure was steadily applied. With nose hovering over nose, he spoke as if to a child. "You killed her...understand?"

Pulling away, eyes bright with tears of frustration and blame, Jerrod picked himself up. Moving from knees to feet, his body ached from Michael's well placed blows. Wiping blood away with the back of his hand, he grimaced as a rich iron taste filled his mouth. He fingered his split lip with tender hands. They could have gone on, but it was pointless. Jerrod straightened his clothes while relishing Michael's shocked expression. Turning his back he sneered over his shoulder, "You didn't deserve her."

Within two strides, it was Jerrod who was now quickly spun around. True to form, Michael had moved without sound. His voice was low and dangerous. "Where?"

"The compound."

"When?" Gone was the heartbroken lover, in its place stood a man on a mission.

"You're too late...."

With a low growl, iron fists pulled at Jerrod's jacket. Michael demanded an answer. "when...."

"...now..."

In a matter of seconds, Jerrod was released and all he saw was Michael's back as he raced away. With the completion of this final distasteful act, Jerrod pulled out his cell phone. A voice once laced with passion now contained indifference and a hint of anger. "He's on his way"

Not waiting for a response, the call was disconnected.

***********

Time that previously stood still now raced by. Hastening to his car, Michael could hear the soft ticking of a clock echoing in his head. The countdown had begun. In accordance with Murphy's law, everything that could go wrong did. Casual pedestrians stepped in his way oblivious of what hung in the balance. Courtesy once so ingrained in his persona now vanished. Barreling through businessmen and young mothers with kids in tow, he approached his car at last. Shoving the keys in the lock, they missed. No... right car...right key. Shaking his head with frustration, it was only when the shrill clink of metal hitting pavement sounded that he consciously slowed down his actions.

Sliding into the worn leather seat, his body sank and became one with this mechanical cage. Twisting the key viscously as his foot punched the gas, he pealed out of the parking stall. Weaving in and out of traffic recklessly, the black Mercedes broke every traffic law known to man. Brake lights flashed suddenly in his eyes. With split second timing Michael's hands yanked the steering wheel hard right. In an instant he abandoned the crowded streets for an even more deadly route. Shouts of panic followed in his wake as he roared down the sidewalk using it as his own personal carpool lane. Packages and briefcases bounced off the glass as frightened people fled. With the swipe of his blades, a piece of paper was quickly removed to reveal a fast approaching object. A quick tug and he narrowly missed upsetting an unfortunately placed newsstand.

The world rushed by outside his glass and steel enclosed coffin. Inside, his heart and mind were stunned. It was finally sinking in. All the words...the tenderness of their last union...it was her way of saying goodbye. Just how final their parting was to be, had been the mystery. All his life it seemed he had keep tabs on her. Their so-called separation would have been no different. The strength to get him through her absence existed in knowing she was alive. But this deception? In a flash, Jerrod's harsh voice laced with anger tormented his every thought.

** Killed her...Killed her...dead....**

Why? Why did she do it? Why wasn't she honest with him? Her words and actions were starting to make sense. She knew him so well. Refusing to ask, she knew what would kill his budding soul. She sacrificed herself so that he could have some semblance of honor. But didn't she understand? How could she, he had just realized it himself. Life without her was not a life. It was a hollow existence. Her shinning presence called to him. It kept him alive. Even if the globe separated them, he felt her. His angel. She knew so much about him...but not enough...not this. Her well-intended protection would be the final straw in his destruction.

Running a red light, the screech of tires echoed the cry in his mind. He had worked so hard, giving everything he had to keep her safe. From the beginning he covered for her actions slowly training her, albeit roughly, in the ways of the Section. They had finally reached a plateau. She was one of the best, and he knew the waiting had come to an end. Favors had been stored, promises had been kept. The moment he had anticipated for four years was upon them. Now this.

Butterflies multiplied and fluttered about in his stomach. Pictures of her in front of the fireplace super imposed themselves in his vision. Her long limbs glistening while the most beautiful music came from her lungs. He could almost hear the crackle of the fire repeating her moans of delight. Rudely interrupting, a deep voice pulled her from him. ** dead ** Now she knelt before him yelling and screaming for him to take her life. It was not in anger she pushed him...but in sorrowful determination. She had asked for peace and once more he fell short. He had failed to see.

** Killed...her...**

** no...**

She couldn't die. She couldn't leave him. His mind pulled a prayerful mantra from his soul. It started deep working through every fiber of his being until it mimicked the beating of his heart. Slamming his hand against the dash, he drove faster careening towards his destination never realizing that his cry...his wish...his hope...his desperation shone brightly in his eyes.

** live...live...live...live...**

He always prided himself on his preparation. He took into account every situation and scenario he could possibly encounter. It was his method of survival in this demented world. Yet now because of her silence, he was fighting to save her life once more. What was she thinking? She had hid from him the reality he didn't want to accept. But honestly, Michael knew his gut was right. He had blatantly ignored the signs before him. He had fallen for her explanations. He had denied what he knew deep down. He had given in to the desire that all would be well. He had finally found hope, and look where it led.

He should have known. The departure in the cabin he once ignored, now held new meaning. It carried a heavier weight. It tore into him with talons of ice.

Filled with sorrow, her voice beckoned...."I never knew it would come to this..."

**Merde**

The silently falling tears he did not see now washed over him, drowning him with torment. "I never wanted it to... there's so much I..."

**Nikita**

Abandoning the sheltered protection of his car, Michael blew into the Agency compound with deadly force. Into the shadows he moved with quiet destruction leaving in his wake fallen and dazed guards. Closer he came...yet he was so far away. Rounding a corner, he stopped. Slipping a gun from his jacket, he surprised one of Adrian's elite guards. Staring into orbs of green, the sentry knew his life was in the balance. Michael was well known among them. As was Nikita, his Section counterpart. Their skills were legendary.

One word was all he said. His tone deadly serious, "Adrian."

Staring down the deadly barrel, the guard held his ground. "She is not available."

Looking away in disinterest, a strong hand lashed out. Encountering exposed neck, determined fingers tightened. Simultaneously kicking aside the uniform glad legs, Michael held the life of another within his hands. Putting steel against temple, a slender finger itched to dispatch this barrier.

"Where is she?"

With a shake of a head, the guard literally hung from the man in black's hand choking on his own weight. Yet no sound came.

Adrenaline pumped through Michael. Yanking up the noose fashioned out of flesh. He leaned forward. Green eyes flared as air was slowly cut off. "Where?"

Through sputtered and gasping phrases, Michael learned what he needed to know. Dropping the guard with a twist of the hand, Michael vanished.

Deeper and deeper into the complex he went. Hiding in the shadows he monitored the activity around him. It didn't take long till he found what was needed. Pulling a now unconscious Agency operative out of plain view, Michael fingered the security card that would be his final salvation. Swiping the magnetic strip through several layers of security, he finally passed through the last barrier. Hidden within the sprawling complex, he founds what he searched for. The darkened corridor was unknown to most, but those who knew of its reputation shuddered at the horror that was a regular occurrence. This was a place where atrocities of the dark side of human nature reigned. A quick death would be a blessing within these walls.

He knew he was close. Increasing ten fold, desperation took hold. Michael walked stealthily down the cinderblock-lined hall. Passing by doors that concealed muffled cries of pain, he moved on...searching. Ahead of him, shadowed in eerie light, the door of his future resided. Each step he took was in tune with the turmoil of his mind.

** Killed...**

**Dead...**

**Nikita...**

She was in there. He couldn't be too late. Reaching for the access panel, a thin magnetic strip was all that stood between his being by her side. Lifting the card, it wasn't a soft electronic beep of granted admittance that filled his ears and stopped his heart. No it was something more sinister...more deadly.

** BANG**

Ricocheting down the narrow corridor, the sharp report of a gun reverberated throughout. His breath caught in his throat. The beating of his heart slowed to a non-existent singular thud. Stilled in mid air, his hand hovered outstretched. There was only silence.

pain...death...and silence...

Swallowed by anguish so deep, he could not go on. Tormented by the sound of a bullet being fired, his blank eyes saw only Nikita's face in his mind's eye. Gone was the warmth and light that radiated from within. Her eyes no longer sparkled, but stared into oblivion without feeling. So deathly pale...and cold...and so alone. He could not move. Nikita...no...she couldn't be...

Dead...

Comatose by shock, Michael barely registered the movement of the door. Opening slightly, a flash of pale blonde in the distance restored his hope once more. Then a sinister face baring his way... dashed all.

His life...his love...his angel was locked away as the door quickly swung shut.

"Michael." A smile crept over Adrian's face in triumph. "Come with me."

***********

Staring into lavender disks glistening from smug humor, Michael was surprised at the emptiness that gripped him. With great effort, the rage he tried to summon was nonexistent. All that was there was numbness. His anger and need for retribution had vanished with the echo of a gun. In one instant the talons of pain had shredded his heart. Each slash had torn away strips of muscle exposing him to chilling loneliness. Then as the sharp report of the gun had faded, a misty haze engulfed all emotion. His will to live, to appreciate life, to even take the next breath was gone. For years he hid his need from her, even from himself. He took her presence for granted. Such arrogance, such a fool. He protected her so that she could continue to enjoy the simplicities in life. She could find the beauty in every awakening dawn. The tinkling of children's laughter refreshed her spirit. These were her pleasures. But in the end it was purely self-survival for which he fought. Without her the glowing ember of his budding life and love cooled and returned to frozen coal.

The cold gray iron door was still bolted before him. Thick round rivets secured this barrier. Many had cried out to be released. Never before had one wanted to enter so desperately. Concentrating on the hard surface, Michael's legs refused to move. His life ceased at that moment. His heart was already within the walls of Nikita's tomb. There they finally found peace. She had taken all that was good within him as her heartbeat faltered and finally faded. The husk of a zombie now stood. Eyes cool with neither fire or ice replaced the enigmatic man whose smile once stoked deep passions within all women he encountered. Willing himself to her side, his internal clock ticked slowly as his soul ebbed into nothingness.

Feeling detached and removed, a tight grasp on his arm pulled him back to the hell he knew as reality.

"Later Michael. First we talk."

Turning on pure reflex, booted feet followed one step at a time. Trailing behind the petite murderess, Michael left behind all that he was. Focusing on the slender red stilts taping out their cadence, he mimicked her movement. It took all his concentration to remember the simple act of walking. Lift....place...transfer weight...repeat. The man renowned for his tactical abilities was no more. Echoing in his ears, the anguished screams of the other occupants of this ward went unheeded. Their cries failed to touch him. His only wish was to take their place. The physical pain, he would welcome. Death...he would cherish.

The glint of metal reflecting off the florescent lighting caught his eye. White smoke trailed from its tip. The sharp scent of sulfur assaulted his senses. The gun. Held carelessly within a slender hand, the deadly implement of Nikita's demise beckoned him. His only hope was that another bullet slept in the chamber. A bullet...for him.

Moving past dazed guards and scurrying operatives; two lost in thought proceeded to Adrian's office. Entering her domain drove home the dichotomy of this world. Only moments before pain and death surrounded them, now the elegant lines and muted fabric of French furnishings engulfed their presence. Sliding into her chair Adrian looked at home. Her eyes momentarily closed. Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. This place rejuvenated her.

For Michael, it was the opposite. Once the chameleon who could adapt to any environment, he now knew that only in agony, death and torment would he find home.

"You surprised me. I did not think you would come." A lilting English accent came across the desk.

Knowing he had to respond, Michael struggled in silence. He had only one question. It was all he wanted to know. "Why?"

Ever astute, Adrian understood the request. He wasn't questioning the reason of his appearance, but more the motivation behind the loss of his love.

"There are rules Michael. Some actions can not be ignored."

Nodding in comprehension but not acceptance, green eyes focused on the bookshelves behind the sharply dressed woman. The power that emanated from her grew as each second passed. With a voice weak in tone and lifeless in timber, Michael fought for the right words. "If you had asked..."

"That was Nikita's decision." A gentle smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Adrian assessed the man before her. He was a mirror image of the woman who occupied the chair only hours before. Vitality had fled. His patented blank stare contained no repressed fire, no constant contemplation. Truly, he had become a machine. It was not exactly how she planned, but she wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth. In the end, the result would be the same... just a means to an end. "This was an unfortunate situation. Regardless, Michael... you WILL join the Council."

Soft ticking emanated from the grandfather clock in the corner. Breaking the silence, its rhythmic cadence added to the tension.

"...no..." The deep whisper could barely be heard. Two sets of eyes snapped to attention as the meaning came across. Michael sat in shock at his utter loss of control. However amused, Adrian couldn't help but be affronted at his disobedience.

"No?" An angry laugh spilled from her deceptively serene mouth. "You don't understand. You have no choice. Did you think that Nikita was my only contingency? Tsk tsk....you should know I'm always prepared."

A tiny wrinkle on Michael's forehead signaled to Adrian that she had hit her mark. A sinister chuckle assaulted him. "Where shall I start?" ** sigh** "Oh yes..."

Turning the monitor towards him, slender fingers flew over keys as she pulled up a file. Typing in the appropriate access codes, two faces full of laughter filled the screen. His reaction was not what she hoped, but down deep she saw a glimmer. "Your sister. Such a beautiful young lady."

Smiling sweetly, she continued. "So full of life. The world for her taking. Ah, the possibilities, the happiness for her....and her son."

Not batting an eyelash, Michael gazed back in indifference. The void within him muted the outrage that should have clenched his insides. The icy chill of fear, that normally overcame him when his beloved kin was in danger, did not materialize. In his heart, he always knew he would be the cause of their downfall. Doomed from the start, they had no chance. Their only crime was being related to him. The time had finally come, and he couldn't muster up a single spark of retribution.

Intrigued by the barren face of the man before her, Adrian realized the depth of his despair. The infinite love he felt for Nikita was staggering. She was his lifeline to existence. Without her, he would not survive. Even the threat against his family was useless. He had separated himself from them long ago. The only portion of his heart he hadn't excised was Nikita. Adrian gave him 3 months, if he did not take his own life before that. Never the cowered, he would embrace death on a mission without fight. With eyes open, he would meet the bullet head on. He would finally give up the struggle. Power meant nothing to him, if there was nothing to protect.

Seeing his look of morbid acceptance, she decided to use her last card. She still needed him, and he had to be on the top of his game. With a quick keystroke, Adrian pulled up the camera in Nikita's tomb.

"She would have wanted you to live, Michael."

His gaze faltered ever so slightly as he watched in horror. Pale blonde hair hung covering her lovely face. Shoulders slumped forward as her alabaster flesh blended with the bright white of her clothes. Looking for the sign of her death, Michael gasped as a circle of red increased in size on her left chest. Slowly the tendrils of her life's blood seeped out of her body. Thrown head long into sheer pain, his heart shattered into millions of pieces. He wished the oblivion that so recently consumed him would return and take away the torment.

** Nikita ... no **

Uncaring that he was being watched, a single tear fell. Quietly he said his goodbye. Turning away from this goulish scene, he willed the vision from his eyes. Yet the image of her damaged body stayed with him. Suddenly remembering another time and another woman...another love...his frigid voice dominated the room. "I have to see her..."

"There is no need," was the response.

As Adrian went to flip off the monitor, Michael's hand shot out and reverently touched the screen. Gentle fingertips caressed pale blonde hair and sinewy form. Reverently he worshiped her one last time. With anguish so deep and disturbing, his face broke from its mold of ice. Pure hurt and agony contorted his features. Desperately biting back the soul deep cry of pain, he closed his eyes and wept.

***********

Pain...

Salty tears spilled out from long eyelashes leaving tracks on his cheeks. He didn't care. The suffering was so intense. Each falling drop mimicked the blood seeping out of his heart...the life that he could no longer live...the perfect love that was so brutally ripped away. He was dying one tear at a time.

Torment...

Sturdy hands that killed so many cradled a broken face. Hair once perfect lay limp in unmanageable curls. And yet he still cried. One wounded sob broke free followed by a low moan. Deep within he called to her. He mourned her with raspy and broken breaths. Each catch shook his body. Each hiccup brought more tears. Still Michael rode the pain.

Anguish...pure anguish...

Adrian watched this private breakdown. Once a man so strong, Michael now embraced his weakness and grieved with breathtaking intensity. Stunned at the liquid agony shimmering in front of her, she couldn't move. She couldn't blink. Never before had pure hurt and love been so evident. Never in all her years had she seen a heart so visibly shattered. His love...their love...so pure, painful and powerful that it overtook the lives around them. That was their strength...

Through blurry eyes, Adrian observed him. Soon the broken sobs that rent through the quiet office did not grab her attention. No the sound of a gun...her gun... as it fired earlier filled her ears. The serene blonde had just sat there, willingly taking the punishment to protect him. She hadn't begged. She didn't plead. Her faded blue eyes didn't even tear. She just sat and waited. Nikita neither ran or hid...no she accepted death. That is what caused Adrian's hand to pull at the last moment. Nikita's quiet goodbye and look of gentle forgiveness tore into her. But it was her unerring capitulation that shifted the gun.

The bullet didn't crease Nikita's temple ending her life right away. It entered her chest instead. As it tore into flesh, her mentor echoed her spasms of pain. She watched as Nikita's mouth fell open, as the tears streaked down her cheeks. Yet it was a meeting of the eyes that did her in. Emptiness, bleakness. Blue disk soon closed off as a cry of agony was bit back. There was no doubt. Hers would be a long and torturous death, but a death none the less.

Overcome by weakness, Adrian couldn't pull herself to end Nikita's misery. Nor could she stand to watch the blonde operative's last dying moments. The pain was too deep. She had been touched by this angel of hope and the wounds where too fresh. She needed time to find her coldness once more. So she selfishly abandoned Nikita's deathwatch, and ran from the inevitable. She ran right into Michael.

With staggering force the walls came back. Adrian stepped into the role of master and leader with ease. The sorrow and shame she felt quickly moved to the side. She had a second chance. He can come to her, a bit late. But he had come. It wouldn't be all for naught.

Pulled back to reality by a subtle movement, Adrian watched as Michael once more traced the outline of Nikita's form with his fingertips. Glancing at his wet face once last time, her hand flicked off the power.

Pulling back his fingers as if burned, Michael just stared at the empty screen. Trying to regain his emotional hold, he wished for the return of oblivion. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to excise the picture of her body. But the image stayed.

Overcome with sympathy for the man before her, Adrian did the opposite of what she should. As a favor to Nikita, she relented. A cool and surprisingly tender voice spoke. "Go say goodbye Michael. I will see you first thing in the morning."

Snapping his eyes open, the blank stare that so recently abandoned him returned. Ignoring the wet tracks on his face, Michael stood. As the door swished open, a small whisper could barely be heard. "Thank you."

With that, the black figure left.

***********

Stepping cautiously through the door, Michael entered the cell. Gray cinderblock lined the walls. The odor of mist and death came over him. Warm and humid the air was heavy upon on his skin. But he didn't notice. She was here. Nikita. Her back slumped. Her hair fell forward. From this angle she just looked tired. But he knew differently.

Walking around to her side, his first real view of Nikita rendered him speechless. Dropping to his knees in a sob, his mask of blank slate was obliterated. Green eyes wide with fright and fear watched as one hand pushed away her hair and cupped her chin gently. Raising it up, all he saw was pale flesh. It was so cold. In this room full of warmth and heat, she was ice cold. Pale eyelashes hung onto her skin. Her mouth was slightly open in a mask of pain.

His heart no longer was his. In that instant all that he was became hers. And in death, she took it with her.

Pulling his eyes from her face, they traveled down her body stopping at the first sign of crimson blood. Disbelieving another hand shot out and touched her. The red fluid was warm. Idly he ran his fingers around the wound. Caressing her gently. Letting the fluid of her life flow into his hands.

Rocking back in forth in agony, the tears returned. Pulling his hands to his face, he left streaks of red against his cheeks. ** No...it couldn't be...not his Nikita... ** Soon his thoughts became words and moans...and quiet cries. Opening his eyes and looking through sheets of water, he took in this nightmare one last time. She was in the same position. So lifeless. His Nikita. His joy. His love....gone.

Michael clasped her shoulders with shaking hands. Gently tugging he pulled her off the chair. Catching her in his strong arms, she was cradled against his chest. Tender fingers ran through her dull silky hair leaving streaks of red. Lightly rubbing her cool skin, he looked into her face once more. With a cry, his hand ran over her jaw and lips. Delicately he smoothed out the signs of pain and torment as he whispered nonsensical words in her ear.

A tiny splash of liquid on her lips shocked him. He watched the drops fall from his own cheeks and strike her flesh. They pooled in the crevice of her mouth and overflowed onto his shirt as he slowly rocked her against him. Looking down with love, all he could see was the life and beauty she once possessed. Her hair reflecting the suns rays with the brightness of brushed gold. Her skin full of luster and peaches & cream as he held her in his arms. The feeling of her heart beat against his chest. The innocent way she smiled. These were the images he saw when he looked at this corpse of death.

Pulling her close he buried his face in her hair. His arms tightened bringing her flush against him. His sorrow was not masked. His emotions obliterated. Still he rocked, back and forth. Between sobs and whispers of apologies, his voice broke as he said her name for the last time. It was a call to her soul to return to him. "ni...ki...ta."

Within his tight embrace Michael did not see the shift of eyelids. Slowly being pulled back from the warmth and beauty she was in, Nikita rushed head long into reality once more. With eyes of calm seas, she realized whose arms she was in. With the last ounce of fortitude and on sheer willpower she sighed his name. She needed to say goodbye.

So tiny was her voice that he didn't hear her above his own grief. It took her minutes to work up the strength. Minutes that could have been used to save her life. Only when she coughed lightly did he notice. Pulling back to look at her, he saw her mouth form his name as her eyes opened.

"mi...ch...ael"

His body shook but his smile was true. Running his hands over her, he checked her pulse. It was thready...almost non-existent. Husky with emotion, he tried to comfort her. She was back. What more could he dare ask for? "shhhh...I'm here."

Raising her head, she moved it back and forth. Leaning in tighter, her misty voice cried out. "...no...go..."

All of her power was gone. Looking into his eyes, she faded and finally lost consciousness.

He had seen her leave. The light was no longer. With brief touches, he closed her lids. Tightening his grip, intense sorrow came. With a cry he said her name, first as a prayer, then again as a plea. As the tears trickled down, he rocked her. His mouth contorting in an animalistic cry that filled the room. "noooooo"

*********** ~the end~

As the blue light of her monitor bounced off the walls, Adrian sat in silence watching the very private torment of Michael. She has tried to shut of the screen several times but the scene was too compelling in its intensity. She couldn't turn away from his pain. It was so acute. It cut too deep. It was a wound that she wasn't sure he could overcome.

She had been the first to see her move. In stunned silence she watched as Nikita struggled to let him know she was alive. Focusing the camera, Adrian's hands shook as she watched dull blue eyes open and close. The mouth that fought to speak, broke what was left of her cold heart. Getting herself together, she tried to ignore the fact that Nikita was barely hanging on. She was meant to die...but what if she didn't? They would be a force to be reckoned with, and they would be hers. Just as she planned.

With compassion and ulterior motive, Adrian had a change of heart. Once unfeeling, she now possessed a drive to see Nikita live again. Slender fingers hastily called up Medlab. With a voice full of resolve, she barked out orders. "Med Team Cell 214. NOW."

Hanging up the phone she watched with bated breath as Nikita and Michael shared their last words. Suddenly Nikita grew limp. Adrian let out a sigh. There may not be enough time. It may have been too late.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Strong hands ripped Nikita out of his arms. Staying on his knees he waited as they tried to revive his love. Rocking back and forth ever so slightly, salty drops left tracks through the blood that coated his face.

Lying on the floor only a few feet away, two attendants worked on her. With chest compressions they began the questionable journey of bringing her back.

"One...two...three...four...five...Breathe."

Blowing air into her, her lungs rose and fell under the medlab worker's hands.

"One...two...three...four...five...Breathe."

The fight continued...

"Breathe damnit...Breathe..." was muttered.

Off to the side Michael continued to rock. Time stood still. Torn between hope and sorrow he watched.

"Save her..." He whispered. "Please..."

*********** ~epilogue~

The room he was shown into was dark and smoky. Stopping in front of the tribunal he stood at attention. Focusing past the light the reflected into his eyes, he barely made out the three individuals that hid in the shadows.

From the left came a gravely voice. "Report."

Clearing his throat Jerrod proceeded. "We are slightly behind schedule, but that can be compensated for."

Attacked from the right, a sultry feminine voice came next. "Why."

Standing stiff, Jerrod shifted. "Unexpected setbacks. They have been overcome however."

A intake of breath and exhale of smoke drew his attention forward. "Timeframe."

With a sinister sneer, Jerrod answered. "Six months. The Council and Section will be under our control within Six months...Thanks to Michael."

A pause, then a voice came from the dark. "Good. Very very good."

Turning to leave, Jerrod was stopped short by the first questioner. "...and the girl?"

Fumbling with his inner pocket, he pulled out a small CD. Fingering it lightly, Jerrod threw it onto the desk before him. "Its all there."

Bony fingers edge forward and grasped at the computer disk. Moving into the light, black and beady eyes burned into the blonde operative. With a smile as evil as sin, a throaty chuckle filled the room.

Grinning back with malicious intent, Jerrod gave a brief nod and left. The game had only just begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will you walk into my parlour?"
Said the spider to the fly:
"'tis the prettiest little parlour
that ever you did spy."

Mary Howitt circa 1900

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