The following story is set during the events of "War", and is told from Michael's perspective. It contains massive spoilers for that episode, as well as both original dialogue from "War" and additional dialogue written by myself.

The characters of La Femme Nikita (and the original words that they speak) remain, as always, the property of Warner Brothers, Fireworks Entertainment and USA. No profit will ever result from the creation of this story.

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

Where is she? The phone is ringing and ringing in my ear, and I find myself suddenly trying to curb an odd wave of uneasiness.

She should be there. And yet the ring-tone is pulsing mockingly in my head, my call unanswered.

Finally, the ringing stops, the line connects, but I hear only silence. No, not silence. I can hear breathing, quick, nervous intakes of breath that starts the alarm bells clamouring in my head. I blink and clutch the receiver tighter in my hand. Something has happened. I wasn't quick enough to protect her. As the tense silence on the other end of the telephone line continues, I belatedly realise that I haven't even spoken yet, that she is waiting.

"Josephine."

"Michael, what's going on?"

I frown, slightly unnerved by the unusual reply. Normally all I am left with is an abrupt 'yep' and the dial tone. I was right. Something has happened.

"Come in." It's not what I want to say, but it's all I can say. Section does not approve of lengthy chats.

"I've been compromised." Her voice is shaking, but not urgent. Whatever has happened, she has dealt with it. Alone.

A all too familiar ache of guilt is once again my companion. I hesitate, picking my words carefully. I desperately want to ask exactly what happened, to know that she is unharmed, but I don't. This call will not become fodder for Madeline's psyche files.

"Is it under control?" I realise that I am holding my breath as the heavy silence on the other end of the phone lengthens. I open my mouth to speak again but then I hear a deep intake of breath.

"I think so." She sounds so strange and sadly, I can recognise the tremour in her voice for what it is. I've heard it many times before.

She's just killed someone. My heart clenches, an empty pang that has me closing my eyes, trying not to think of the effect that having to take a life in her own home will have on her. Swallowing back all the things that I wish I could say to her, I can only offer Section-approved words.

"Come in."

I wait for the dial tone, but it doesn't come straight away. I can still hear her breathing rapidly and the faint hum of traffic in the background. It is almost as though she doesn't want to break the connection, as though she needs the human contact.

As the silence between us lengthens, I actually consider telling her to stay where she is, that I will come for her. A loud click snaps in my ear, bringing me back from this thought, the dial tone finally heralding the end of the call. I hang up the receiver carefully, taking a deep breath, the air rushing from my lungs in a release of nervous tension.

Staring down at my desk with unseeing eyes, I think of the inevitable result of the Section Directory falling into the wrong hands, and a sour apprehension seeps through me. Operations has briefed me only marginally, but there was not a lot that he needed to spell out. Operatives will die, picked off one by one as Red Cell works its way through the our Directory. No one will be safe until the Directory is either retrieved or destroyed. I stand and make my way out of my office, uncomfortably aware of the fact that until I see that Nikita is safe within the confines of Section, I will not be able to concentrate on the intricate profile that Madeline has called for. I shake my head, not wanting to think about the implications of my feelings, these feelings for my trainee that I can't control, can't forget. Feelings I shouldn't and can't ever act upon.

Safe. The word echoes ironically in my mind. The place that I always thought was impenetrable is no longer a stronghold. We can only hope that that Section can survive. But it's not fear of Section being destroyed causing the acid to sear the back of my throat. As I walk through the main floor, I find myself praying that Nikita will survive. God knows, I would give my life for hers.

I am only afraid that I will not be allowed the luxury of choosing that option.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nikita is here. Pale and slightly flustered, but alive. I watch her as she walks in front of me, following closely at Madeline's heels as she walks quickly into the briefing area. Section is in the grip of total confusion, operatives almost dazed by fear.

"Madeleine, what's going on?" I start as I hear Nikita's question before I realise that no one has yet taken the time to explain the circumstances to her, including myself. I strain to hear Madeline's reply, relieved when I hear her being short, to the point, and totally truthful with Nikita.

The older woman flings the answer over her shoulder, intent only to getting to her destination. "We're under attack. Operatives are been hit worldwide. Section's being evacuated."

Operations appears as I take my seat at the briefing table, swinging his reading glasses from his fingers in an agitated arc. Never a good sign.

"Red Cell broke our directory. They've launched an invasion."

"Three more agents have been hit. One in Tokyo, two in Hong Kong." Birkoff reports this intel as though he can't quite believe it, looking at Nikita as he does so. She looks shocked, and only stares back at him in disbelief.

Operations leans forward, his eyes moving swiftly over all of us, grim determination hardening his features. "We'll break into two-man cells. Get your specific assignments from Birkoff. We have to locate their command center before they find ours. We're moving to a substation."

Madeline picks up the briefing, her voice calm but with an underlying urgency. "If you are taken, and some of you will be, Red Cell will do anything to make you talk." She paused, looking around the room at the pale faces watching her intently. "You cannot give them the location of the substation, therefore it will be kept secret, even from you."

Operations raises his voice, the words echoing harshly through a room that is now taut with unspoken fear.

"Understand this very clearly. We are at war, and right now we are losing."

I let out my breath and stand up. I feel Nikita's gaze on me and turn my head to meet her eyes. She raises her hands in a frustrated 'what do I do now?' gesture, her eyes searching my face unhappily.

"You've been teamed with me." The frown on her face lessens slightly at my words, but she doesn't move. I study Nikita's face intently, realising belatedly that she still doesn't know what's required of her, having only just arrived in Section. Her hair is haphazardly piled into a bun and her clothes look as though she has just grabbed them from the clean laundry pile. No makeup to hide a pallor to her skin that is almost translucent.

I move closer and take hold of her arm at the elbow, feeling her arm muscles tense under my hand. Pushing aside the pang of regret at her reaction to my touch, I start to draw her towards Birkoff's workstation.

"Let's go."

We walk together without speaking towards Comm. Birkoff is obviously waiting for us, a look of impatience on his face. He starts to speak almost excitedly before we even reach him.

"One of our operatives who's working counter intel in Tunisia managed to send a message before he got hit."

This much I already know. Barrett's last contact with Section had been chilling to say the least, one last shred of intel barely discernable amidst the desperate pleas for back up. Barrett had been one of the first casualties of this war, but he had given us a name, the identity of a businessman whose annual turnover must have just gone through the roof, thanks to Red Cell and their acquisition of the Section Directory.

I look at Birkoff as the name flashes into my mind. "Garshan."

Birkoff studies his screen while nodding at my reply, before glancing back up at me. "He brokers assassins. Red Cell must have given him a massive contract when they cracked the directory."

"Do we have an address?" I want to get out of here now. I can see Operations in his office, staring down at us. A sense of foreboding stirs my gut.

Nikita stands patiently, silently. I glance at her quickly, looking for any sign of distress over what happened in her apartment earlier. She hasn't mentioned it, and for some reason I don't even want to examine, it bothers me that she hasn't confided in me, hasn't told me what happened. I pull my mind back to what Birkoff is saying.

He has found the intel without any discernable effort, as usual. "Rabat, Morocco."

Morocco sounds fine to me at this point in time. Away from Section. Anonymous. I want Nikita as far away from her apartment and Section as humanly possible. I frown to myself as I become uncomfortably aware of the path that my thoughts have once again taken. I realise that Birkoff is waiting for an acknowledgement, and try to dredge up an enthusiastic response.

"Good."

We're finally leaving. Nikita is just in front of me, and for a split-second I have the oddest feeling that the two of us are fleeing more than the threat of Red Cell. It occurs to me that Nikita may have noticed Operations watching us with a grim intent also, and has now picked up on my tension. She is almost rushing us out of Section.

Birkoff's voice stops me in my tracks, his words not unexpected but definitely unwanted. "Michael, Operations wants to see you before you leave." I look at him as he hesitates slightly, before his eyes flick to Nikita pointedly.

"Alone."

Alone. Without Nikita would have been a more to-the-point directive. An uneasy misgiving tightens my chest again and I can't help glancing towards Operations' office. I can feel Nikita's gaze on me and I know that if I let myself look at her, I will only see my own apprehension mirrored in her eyes. I turn and walk slowly towards the stairs that will take me to Operations' office. Birkoff seems oblivious to the suddenly strained atmosphere created by his message, but as I leave I can feel the weight of Nikita's worried stare on my shoulders. There's nothing I can do to reassure her. I have no idea what this is about, but I'm unhappily confident of one fact.

It's not going to be pleasant.

~*~*~*~*~

Operations and Madeline are standing in their usual formation at the glass panels, shoulder to shoulder, overseeing the Section. I flatten my voice, striving to sound unconcerned.

"You wanted to see me?"

They turn to face me. Madeline moves slightly to stand behind Operations' shoulder. A subtle show of combined power.

Operations studies me for a few seconds before speaking in a casual tone.

"Yes. There has been a secondary profile added to your next mission."

I wait, trying to dampen down the sudden flare of wariness that comes over me. From the almost-smirk on Operations' face, I sense that this mission somehow will involve putting Nikita in her place. Again.

"You and Nikita are just leaving for Rabat?"

"Yes".

"Red Cell will not end this assault on Section until they discover the location of our command centre. Your panel has been updated. On it you will find intel regarding the location of the Frankfurt sub-station."

His words filter quickly through my mind, and the feeling of dread grows.

"That has not been in use for two years."

Madeline steps forward. "That's quite correct. But Red Cell are not aware of that fact. This is the intel that we will leak to them. When they arrive...we will be expecting them."

"How does this involve Nikita and I?"

Operations exchanges an unreadable look with Madeline. "Red Cell will only be convinced that the intel is correct if it is given to them very....reluctantly. If a captured operative were to break too soon, they would immediately discount the information as being false. On the other hand, if the operative resists for too long..."

He stops and shrugs. There is no need for him to point out the fact that Red Cell would have no hesitation in killing a captured operative who defies their subtle interviewing techniques. A terrible suspicion is seeping through my body, right down to my bones.

Hoping to get a clearer picture of what is about to come, I point out one rather obvious fact. "Nikita will not betray Section if she is captured."

Madeline meets my gaze steadily. "She will, under the right circumstances."

It's all I can do to stop myself visibly flinching at her words. My god.

Too many years in Section has taught me to expect the worst when I walk into this room, and today is obviously not going to be the exception. With an enormous effort, I keep my face impassive and watch as a impersonal interest flickers in the back of Madeline's eyes as she studies me, obviously waiting to see if her statement will have the slightest effect on me. Her words are definitely having more than the slightest effect, but I will be damned if I will give her the satisfaction of seeing into my soul.

I push down a sudden rush of panic and remain silent, forcing Madeline to explain her cryptic analysis.

Her voice is its usual pleasant lilt, but every word feels like a jackhammer driving into my chest. "Given all that we know about Nikita, you are quite right. She is not afraid to die, and therefore will not break just because her life is threatened." Madeline pauses, her eyes searching mine for a hint of emotion. I give her nothing.

She continues, her face unreadable. "It is a different matter when it is someone else's life is in danger. Particularly when it is someone that she cares deeply about."

The mission profile is suddenly, horrifically clear. Shock steals my voice momentarily, giving Operations the opportunity to ram his directive home.

He strolls towards me almost casually. "Give Nikita the false intel. Impress on her the fact that you're not supposed to tell her, but you want her to know. We all know how easily things can go....wrong on a mission. Let's say, for example, that Nikita is captured by the Red Cell outfit in Rabat. You would be the only other operative on site. It would be your responsibility to extract her, and if you were taken hostage yourself...."

I have no idea how I manage to prevent the shock that is coursing through me from showing on my face as I listen to him, but I do. Struggling to keep the stunned disbelief from my voice, I stare at them blankly.

"You want me to orchestrate Nikita's capture, then my own?"

He blinks at me, his mouth tightening to a hard line. "Do whatever it takes to get this job done, Michael. Just feed Nikita the intel, and let the profile run itself."

I feel sick, my stomach flooding with a cold nausea as the enormity of this order unfolds fully in my mind. I prompt Operations, knowing that I have to get out of this room before my composure deserts me completely.

"Is that all?"

"You will be given further instructions once you are on site." He takes another step towards me, his pale eyes boring into mine. "Do not fail in this, Michael. The survival of Section is infinitely more important than the life of any one operative."

I can see Madeline out of the corner of my eye, still watching me intently, waiting for a betraying sign of weakness, any hint of inappropriate emotion. I bow my head and answer politely as I turn on my heel and start for the door.

Damn you both to hell.

"Of course."

Once out of their field of vision, I stop for a moment, attempting to get my suddenly unsteady breathing under control. From my vantage point, I can see Nikita hovering at Walter's workstation, waiting for me. She can't see me. I watch as she talks to Walter, amazed as her face lights up as she tells him what must be a joke, judging by the snickering coming from the pair of them. My heart catches in my throat as I look at her, so obviously trying to lighten the mood and keep her own spirit buoyant. How can I do this to her? This is not right. She is my material, regardless of anything else between us. I've just been ordered to betray her trust and endanger her life deliberately. A dull ache begins in my chest as I slowly make my way towards them. Nikita spots me and starts to walk towards van access, confident that I will follow. Other operatives rush past us, but the only thing I can focus on is Nikita, and the lie that I am about to tell her.

Catching up to her, I grab her arm and pull her back towards me. She looks at me, startled.

"Nikita, the location of the substation..." Nikita stares at me, her eyes questioning, before looking down at my hand on her arm pointedly. Distracted by what I have to do to her, to us, I hadn't realised that my fingers were digging into her soft skin. I relax my grip slightly and let my eyes roam her face.

"What about it?"

"I want you to know where it is." That is the last thing that I want, a stubborn inner voice states. I push it aside.

I have no choice.

Her brow furrows as she looks at me. Her eyes search my face for enlightenment before she glances over her shoulder, obviously worried about someone overhearing us. "I thought Operations wanted to kept a secret."

I can hardly bear to meet her eyes. "If something happens to me, I want you to go there. It's the only safe place."

She waits expectantly, her head slightly bowed as though she does not want the burden of this knowledge. I can no longer look at her, my eyes darting to the corridor behind her in a vain attempt to escape this moment. It doesn't help. Nothing can lessen the rush of guilt that surges through me as I stand here and lie to her, right to her face.

"It's the sub-basement of the abandoned rendering plant at the end of the canal in Frankfurt."

I have to walk away from her before I've even finished speaking, my heart chilled with dread and shame. With these words, I've just put their plan in motion. It's the best thing for Section. It's what I have to do.

My God, how I hate this.

~*~*~*~*~

The mood in the transport van is sombre, each of us preoccupied with our own thoughts. Nikita sits next to me, her light flowery perfume wafting in and out of my nostrils as the van takes a bend sharply and her arm brushes against my side briefly.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, miserably aware of my body's reaction to her nearness. I should have grown used to it, or at least learned to control it by now. I can't. If I'm brutally honest with myself, I know it is because I don't want to learn. The awareness that floods my body and mind in a hot rush whenever Nikita is close to me has become an addiction. Sometimes sitting alone in my office, proofing missions at three o'clock in the morning, I take out my fears and insecurities and examine them, one by one.

I think of my life, this double life that I am forced to keep hidden from those I have grown to care about.

My heart feels as though it is always being stretched, pulled in too many different directions. One life is consumed by rules, obligation, death...and the almost painful white-hot desire for the woman now sitting beside me. I sigh inwardly, flicking my gaze over Nikita's profile as she stares at the ceiling of the van. If only that was all I felt for her, just desire and nothing else. Why is it that lust seems easier to conquer than love?

And then there is my...family. The family that Section chose for me, and will take away from me as soon as I have carried out my duties. The burden of the gentle caring I have come to feel for the innocent woman who is my wife, the overwhelming love for my son that sears my heart. I stare unseeing at the wall of the transport. My lives are wearing down my soul.

Nikita looks up at my unintentional sigh as if she has just been reminded of my presence. "So...what did Operations want to see you about?"

God, please don't. I have been dreading this question ever since we left Section. Every word that I say will just compound the lie. I keep my eyes on the PDA in my hand as I answer her, unable to watch how easily she believes what I am telling her.

"There were some minor changes to the mission profile. There's nothing for you to be concerned about." She nods, and goes back to swinging her legs and studying the ceiling of our transport. Boredom is always been a problem for her on these long journeys.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye, both relieved and dismayed by her willingness to accept my answer so readily. She's no fool, so why does she trust me? Madeline's words flash in my head.

It is a different matter when it is someone else's life is in danger. Particularly when it is someone that she cares about.

My heart grows heavy with the realisation that if Nikita does indeed care about me, it can only mean disaster for both of us. Even without the added burden of the Vachek assignment, relationships based on anything other than mere physical gratification are not allowed in Section. Nothing good can come of this. I know all this, and yet I am unable to take my own advice, unable to stay away from her. She draws me in, her voice and her laughter a siren's song to my ears in the soulless wasteland of Section.

I try to distract myself from my own dangerous thoughts. "What happened to you tonight, Nikita?"

Nikita obviously wasn't expecting that particular question, and she flinches before she can stop herself. She turns to look at me, outwardly calm, but I can see remembered terror in the back of her eyes. I wait, holding her gaze with mine. Nikita tries to stay silent, but finally something, perhaps the need to talk about it, gets the better of her.

She shrugs her shoulders at me. "Three men broke into my apartment just as I was getting in the shower after working out." She looks away for second, a frown creasing her brow before she turns back to me, a slightly wry smile curving her lips. "You might say that I was...uh...at a slight disadvantage."

I blink at her, feeling my face grow warm as her meaning becomes clear. You were naked. I somehow manage to keep an expression of polite interest on my face while my head fills with images, some remembered, some imagined, all of them distracting to the point of embarrassment.

"What happened?"

Her smile dissolves instantly, and a blank mask drops into place over her usually expressive features. "I killed them ~ that's what happened."

There is a note of finality in her voice. She doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Nikita smiles at me then, a tight little grin that doesn't quite reach her eyes before she turns away from me slightly, hunching down in her seat, perhaps trying to seek solace from her thoughts in sleep.

I'm not that fortunate. My mind is awash with conflicting emotions and thoughts, and there's no escape from them.

Is Madeline right? Does Nikita care about me to the extent that she would betray Section if my life were in danger? After over two years of analysing my rebellious emotions, I'm not surprised that once again I find myself being torn in two. I don't want her to care about me ~ I want her to be strong and indifferent. Only then will she be safe. And yet...my spirit soars at the thought that she is drawn to me. If she only felt a tenth of what I feel for her...my heart starts to thump erratically against my ribs at the thought.

Enough. I close my eyes briefly and take a steadying breath, forcing my mind back to our destination. I've taken this route so many times before that I know without checking that we are nearing the airstrip. The flight to Rabat will not take more than a few hours. Only a few more hours until Nikita learns just how brutal Section can be. Only a few hours until I have to see the hurt in her eyes when she realises that I have betrayed her yet again. I sigh again, and briefly consider praying for engine trouble.

~*~*~*~*~

Rabat is hot and dusty. Sweat trickles down my back as we trudge through the marketplace, having confirmed with Birkoff that our target is indeed on site. I glance quickly at Nikita. If she's feeling the heat, she's not showing it. In deference to the local customs, she has covered her head, the hood of her black top hiding most of that bright hair from any curious eyes.

I hold my tongue when I am tempted to point out that perhaps it would have been more convincing if the same shirt didn't also have a cut-out neckline that showed the gentle swell of her breasts. There are many curious pairs of eyes, and I can feel the weight of the stares of the locals prick the back of my neck like a rash.

Nothing. Made irritable by the heat and a nagging conscience, I'm just about to contact Birkoff to verbally tear strips off him for his faulty intel when Nikita stops, her sudden stillness indicating that she has spotted our quarry.

"Michael?"

"I see him. Go." We have already discussed our plan of attack, and now I fall back and watch her approach the target, crossing right in front of him.

"Excuse me, sorry...." She shoots him a slight grin as she lets him bump into her.

Garshan stops in his tracks, staring at her. I don't blame him. Nikita stands out like a bright jewel in this dustbowl, the dark glasses and black clothing doing nothing to hide her startling beauty. I approach him from behind and press my gun to his lower back, feeling his body jerk sharply as I do so.

"Please...come with us."

He reacts instantly, walking without protest around the corner, away from prying eyes. I look into his face, trying to gauge his reaction to this development. Nothing. No reaction other than a slight hint of impatience that his daily routine has been interrupted.

Despite the obvious signs that he is not going to be very forthcoming, I get straight to the point. "Who's your contact, and how do you get paid?"

"I don't know what's you're talking about." He smiles at me calmly.

"Step back, Nikita." Despite the circumstances, I find myself suppressing a smile. I sound as though I don't want her to get her clothes dirty, for god's sake.

She nods at me, a flash of humour flickering very briefly across her face as she wrinkles her nose in agreement and steps away slightly.

I want to end this now. Anything to avoid the hell that I know is coming. Come on, make me do it. My gun is almost casually resting against the side of Garshan's neck, and I see the realisation that I will indeed kill him slowing creep into his eyes. He laughs nervously as I push the gun harder against his skin.

"Wait." Sweat is pouring down the man's face, his eyes darting from myself to Nikita in desperation. "I get paid from an office at the back of a warehouse."

Not good enough. "On your knees."

Garshan slowly starts to kneel. He obviously takes too long for Nikita's liking and she deftly kicks him in the back of the knees. I bite back a smile at her methods. Crude, but effective. The target hits the ground like a sack of potatoes and before he can even utter another word my gun is resting at the base of his neck.

He begins to babble, desperately trying to appease us. I listen carefully to the tone of his voice, and hear the faint tinge of truth. "Got no reason to lie. It's there that Red Cell does all their business. All their records, whatever you want...it's there." He looks up at me in despair. I pull him off the ground, unwilling to listen to any more of this groveling cowardice.

I push my gun against his neck again and smile politely at him. "Show us."

~*~*~*~*~

This is my worst nightmare made a reality. I watch Nikita climb up the dirty stone wall swiftly, her strong body seeming to move up the sheer surface effortlessly. I stand and just watch her, knowing that the area is not clean, knowing that according to Birkoff's latest sweep, the building is very much occupied. I have sent her in to be taken by the enemy. A dull pain is throbbing in my temples and I look away, unable to watch any longer.

"Are there any guards?"

Garshan shrugs at me, a brave attempt to appear casually unconcerned. "Maybe."

I can see the flare of the laser cutter that Nikita is using, glowing warmly in the darkness. The window creaks open and she is gone. It is only two minutes before I hear her voice over my comm link, but it seems like an eternity.

"I'm in."

I let out my breath and press my gun harder against the side of Garshan's jaw, watching his eyes carefully. "Where do they keep the records?"

He hesitates slightly before answering. "In a safe. At the far end of the room." There is silence for thirty seconds or so before I hear Nikita's voice again.

"It's open." Her worried words set off the alarm bells in my head. Why is the safe already open? There is no way that Red Cell could have been warned of our approach. We have had Garshan with us since we apprehended him. How the hell could they have known...My god. My heart lurches as realisation beats a tattoo of stunned disbelief into my brain. Red Cell knows that Nikita and I are coming because Section wants them to know.

It is the mission profile. Nikita is supposed to be captured. I am meant to retrieve her, but not before inducing her to betray Section ~ just as Operations intended all along. My mind races frantically, desperately seeking another answer, another solution.

Without warning, the sound of an explosion shakes the air around me, the sound of Nikita's cry of pain reverberating in my comm unit.

Sensing weakness as frustration at my helplessness distracts me, my captive flings his hands backwards into my face, pulling away from my grasp and scrambling quickly down the embankment. My eyes still watering from the stinging blow to my nose, I train my weapon on his retreating figure and fire. Watching his body roll awkwardly to the bottom of the hill, I curse him, even in death, for his part in this travesty.

Trying to regather my focus, I have to ignore Nikita's yells of pain and anger in my ear as she is obviously overpowered inside the compound. I drag my PDA from my knapsack and log onto the secure channel prearranged with Birkoff. The connection goes through quickly, and I soon have audio. I've seen Birkoff use this device before. Section will be receiving a video feed, and the thought of Operations now waiting for me to report what he already knows is causing the bile to rise in my throat. I look away from the PDA, unable to keep the frustrated despair from my eyes.

"We found Garshan."

Operations is impatient. "And?"

"He brought us to a location. When we were trying to penetrate, Nikita was grabbed."

"Is she alive?" His question sends a flash of anger through me. It's not Nikita that he is concerned about, and we both know it.

"I don't know." This admission is no lie. I draw a ragged breath into my lungs, realising that Nikita could already be dead while I am here, participating in this ridiculous charade of a conversation.

"Should we bring in a team?" This is a farce for the benefit of anyone else monitoring the channel, and yet even as I utter the words, I can't help but keep a tiny flicker of hope alive inside me. There must be another way to do this.

Operations' reply is not a surprise and yet it pierces my heart. "Go alone."

There is no turning back now. The mission profile must be played out, otherwise Nikita will surely die, and Section will be breached. Even now, it may be too late. No. I sever the satellite connection and walk swiftly towards Nikita's point of entry.

And so it begins.

~*~*~*~*~

It's surprisingly hard to let yourself be captured when every instinct in your body is screaming out for you to evade, overpower, eliminate. I must have nearly made it into the centre of the compound before Red Cell mounted a defense strong enough to make my capitulation believable. I slumped to the floor as a small nerve gas grenade exploded near my feet, thankful that at least this part of the profile was completed.

Being marched through dark corridors, I take in my new surroundings. The walls are damp and peeling, the concrete floor slippery with a foul greenish moss underneath my boots. The two Red Cell operatives escorting me are silent through the entire journey, but I don't have to wait long to find out where I am being taken.

A cultured voice drafts slowly towards me as we approach an open area surrounding by metal fencing.

"She won't crack. Kill her."

As these words are ringing in my ears, the two men holding me pull me through a opening in the fencing. Although my eyes still stinging from the flare of the grenade, I see a flash of blonde hair and struggle to focus my eyes. Nikita. Oh, my god. What the hell have they done to her? Her face is covered with scratches that are oozing blood badly. In the short time that I have before the guards drag me towards the interrogation area, my eyes and my mind are frantically trying to take it all in. Nikita strapped to a board, her face covered with....bites? There is something else, something that seems so out of place that it takes me a moment to realise that it is ~ the high-pitched squealing of vermin. Rats in a cage. The horrifying jigsaw before me slams into place with a terrible clarity. Rats. Her biggest fear, a phobia embedded deep inside her, a miserable legacy from her days spent living on the streets. A phobia that is well documented in her file, a file kept in the Section Directory. Anger shots through my body, a hot wave of rage that seems to blur my vision. I clench my fists tightly as it becomes almost impossible to focus on the mission profile, the urge to kill the Red Cell operatives surging through me, the longing to grab Nikita and spirit her away growing stronger by the second.

As I watch, two of the three men before me near Nikita grab hold of the board she is strapped onto, and roll it backwards. She is deathly pale, streaks of tears and blood mingling as they run down her face. Her head swings around towards me and I cannot help looking at her. My heart lurches at the look in her eyes when she catches sight of me. Clearly horrified by my presence, she can't keep the fear and despair from her face. She turns her gaze away from me and thumps her head back onto the board, her eyes closing in defeat.

"A rescue attempt by a fellow operative. How...romantic."

~*~*~*~*~

The owner of the almost theatrical voice is a tall man dressed in black with a red kerchief tied around his neck. I watch the other Red Cell operatives. They clearly defer to him, their body language completely subservient. He strolls over to stand in front of me, a sarcastic smile curving his thin mouth. A sudden and intense loathing for this man floods my entire body. It would be my great pleasure to kill him with my bare hands, but he holds the fate of Section, the fate of Nikita and myself in his hands. I allow myself the indulgence of letting him see my hate as I meet his eyes, even though I know this is too revealing, giving too much away. His gaze narrows and I struggle to make my expression blank.

He throws a glance towards Nikita and I finally notice a strange beeping noise. I watch him as he smiles dryly at me and walks quickly to Nikita's side. I realise with horror that she is hooked up to a heart rate monitor, and her heart is betraying her with every agitated beat.

The Red Cell operative studies her face intently, before looking over to me once again, too many questions suddenly flaring in his eyes. "Don't kill her yet. Put them both on the cages. Find out who he is and why he is on this heroic mission."

The two men holding me push me into the strangest looking cell, almost a wire cage suspended from the roof. My fingers instinctively curl around the metal fencing, mentally assessing its strength. The door is slammed and bolted behind me. The sound of Nikita's moan has me turning around quickly, only to feel my stomach turn over at the sight of her limp body slung over the shoulder of one of the Red Cell operatives.

A sudden feeling of pain makes me looks down. I've gripped the wire mesh so hard that it has cut into my fingers, the blood trickling slowly down to my wrists. I hadn't even noticed that I was doing it.

Nikita's still body is swung into the metal cell next to me, and she falls heavily to the floor, her back pushed hard against the back wall. Shifting around slightly, she turns her back to stare blindly away from me. Knowing her as I do, her silence spells out a very clear message. She won't look at me because she feels responsible for me being here. In her mind, she failed and now we are both going to die because of it.

If only it was going to be that simple.

I take a deep breath, needing to talk to her but not quite knowing how to start. "How are you holding up?"

Nikita still won't look at me. Slumped on the bottom of the wire cage, she's sitting as far away from me as she can get. She won't give me her eyes, but a small sniff betrays her. She is crying.

"I'm sorry, Nikita." The sheer inadequacy of my words mocks me, the enormity of this utter sham of a mission slamming home. Nikita moves her head in response to my voice and I see the line of her shoulders relax slightly. Encouraged, I carefully consider my next words, my heart racing.

I can't do this to her. A slow-burning anger sparks, quickly flaring through my body as I replay Operations' instructions. There was no need for the mission to be profiled like this.

My mind races, frantically considering any other options. My God, any course of action would be preferably to what Section is about to put Nikita through, what I'm about to put her through. I have to tell her the truth. She can do this. I open my mouth to speak, but the sound of heavy footsteps prevents me from saying a word.

Our host is back, clutching a PDA. "Michael, this is a very impressive file." He is strangely excited and I can't understand why he would believe that his opinion of my abilities matters a damn to me. I watch his face. A look of sly intent floods his eyes as he continues, glancing down at Nikita. "It also indicates that there's a certain...closeness between you and Nikita. You're her guide and mentor." He pauses once again, his eyebrows rising in a subtle leer. "Perhaps something more."

I see Nikita's head jerk slightly in reaction to his words, but nothing more. Damn him.

Our captor continues, "Now...I want to try and save time and any further discomfort for either of you. Section will be breached." I have to look away from him, unable to keep my feelings from my eyes. "We have other Section operatives. One of them will break. When they do, you will be killed. Right now I can make this easy on everyone. I can offer you money...new identities...a safe place to live."

I stare into his empty eyes and feel nothing but loathing. He blinks at me. "Oh, well...don't say I didn't try." He smiles at me pleasantly. "So, Michael...it says here that you're subject to dreams. Nightmares." He pauses, his eyes sliding to Nikita quickly before continuing. "Perhaps that is something to do with the death of your child."

My heart sinks as I see Nikita's head come up suddenly. I'm not the only one who sees her reaction. The Red Cell operative moves to the front of her cell, pulling the door open to stare down at her.

"Oh, you didn't know..." Nikita has turned her face away from him now, but I can see the tension running along her shoulders, distress stiffening her spine. My heart is pounding uncomfortably in my chest as I watch her. Nikita, please...

The strong well-mannered voice of our jailer continues, effortlessly breaking down Nikita's resistance with every single word he utters.

"Yes, his wife...Simone...had a boy. But unfortunately the child died. It seems that Michael thought that somehow Section One was involved." It's all lies, planted by Section for this very purpose, but there is no way that I can tell Nikita that. Not here, not now.

He crouches down to Nikita's level and continues to chat with her almost casually, each word causing my gut to twist coldly. "Now, why would he think that? Perhaps because Section believes that having a child might alter the effectiveness of an operative. " He looks back towards me.

"That's very sad." Nikita's head is now bowed, her body slumped against the wall of the crude wire cell. I stare at her, willing her to look at me. I can explain. I catch myself. What could I possibly tell her? I know it's in my file but it's just false information planted by Section to mislead an interrogator as to what my weaknesses are.

Watching Nikita as she sits in defeated silence on the floor of her cell, my heart twisting with fear and dread, I know all too well where my real weakness lies.

Our captor stands slowly, apparently happy with the results of this little conversation. He walks slowly back to stand in front of me, his eyes locking on mine. I stare at him blandly, silently praying that the pain that is to come will be mine and mine alone.

His mouth curls in a slight sneer, as though he despises me for being so predictable. "Take him."

~*~*~*~*~

It is bad, worse than I'd expected. My ears are throbbing with agony, the inner canals feeling as though they are on fire. I can still see, but my skull is thick with pain. My spine feels as though it has been fused together, my shoulders burning after too many strategically placed blows. I have given them nothing. The stronger I am, the weaker they become. How many times can I tell myself that and still believe it? I watch them come for me again and close my eyes, needing to see something other than my own blood flicking onto the gray floor. Nikita. She will die now if I give them the false intel. My mind contracts and sways onto another path. Adam...Elena. No one to protect them if I die here in this room. Section won't. Nikita will look after them, I decide with satisfaction. But then I remember that I haven't told her about them, that I can never tell her about them. Adam. Must stop thinking of Adam....hurts too much.

Nikita. A vivid image of her laughing with Walter in Section flashes at me and I grab hold of it gratefully. I let my mind fill with thoughts of her as the pain begins again.

~*~*~*~*~

Someone is kicking my feet. I want to open my eyes and give them a piece of my mind, but the dried blood is making it difficult to see. When I finally prise my eyes open, the world starts to spin, nausea scorching the back of my throat. I swallow hard and take a deep breath, feeling the sickness receding as the cool air floods my lungs.

So much pain. The metal is cold and hard against my skin. The hot throbbing behind my eyes is almost unbearable, and my chest seizes in agony with every breath.

"Michael."

It's odd. My blood is hammering through my body, roaring in my ears, and yet I hear her sad whispering of my name as clearly as though her lips were only a breath away. Still too far away.

My head is swimming from the chemicals that have just been injected into my body, but the need to get closer to Nikita and talk to her is overriding everything else. I sit and think for a moment, closing my eyes against the suddenly harsh lights. These bizarre cages are suspended from the ceiling by a length of chain, with nothing holding them in place. I move my legs experimentally, and feel my cell sway slightly. Good.

I keep my eyes tightly shut, and clamp down on the burning ache in my lower back. Shifting my legs from side to side, I can feel myself swinging to and fro. I force my eyes open, and am met by Nikita's worried blue gaze, her face filled with a strange kind of sorrowed pity. No. Not pity. Love. It's there, glittering in her eyes, pure and unselfish.

My mouth and throat are suddenly dry in the face of such intense emotion, and for a blissful few seconds I let myself drown in those eyes, letting myself forget that there is a darker purpose underlying this mission.

Nikita holds my gaze as I sway towards, then away from her. As I feel my cell collide with hers with a satisfying metallic clunk, I push my fingers quickly through the wire of the now-shared wall of our cages, holding my cell against hers. The wire digs into my fingers again, but I'm beyond feeling any discomfort.

Her face is now only a few inches from mine, and for a second it is as though the wire barrier between us dissolves, leaving only an intense wave of feeling ebbing and flowing around us. It hurts to speak, but I must.

"We're okay so far?" She blinks at me. We both know it's a lie.

My god, how I wish this scenario was reversed. At this point, I would happily damn Section to destruction to keep her alive, with no regrets. I wince, knowing that this not quite true. The lives of thousands of operatives and innocence will be lost if I don't succeed here.

So many lies. I look into her eyes, wet with tears, and study her pale face, still beautiful despite the many scratches and bites. I don't want to lie to her any more. "When I was in there and it started to get bad..."

She interrupts me, almost as though she is afraid of what I might say. "Michael, don't...save your strength."

I ignore her plea, driven only by the urgent need to tell her my thoughts before it is too late, too late for me, too late for us. "I thought I was gonna break, but I didn't." My heart feels as though it is going to pound through my ribs. "I thought of you...you're the only one of us who still has a soul."

Her bottom lip trembles as she tries to smile at me, and I can almost hear my heart shattering.

"I'm so sorry, Nikita."

The trembling becomes a hesitant smile, as though seeking to brush aside my apology.

I hesitate over my next sentence, knowing it to be a necessary lie, and yet hating myself for saying the words. "We'll never leave this place alive."

She looks at me tearily and I slide gratefully back into the truth.

"I don't know what love is anymore..." I stare into her eyes, my chest suddenly tight with an unfamiliar sense of nervousness. "...but the only part of me that's not dead is you."

Disbelief at my own words shoots through me, disbelief at the frighteningly real emotions behind them. Disbelief that I've finally said them out loud. Through the tears in my own eyes I see her face crumple, her strength deserting her at last. With the kindest words I've ever spoken to her, I've finally broken her will. And I will never be able to forgive myself for it. I start to close my eyes once more as the pain creeps over me, but I'm startled by the unexpected touch of Nikita's hand on mine. I watch in quiet disbelief as she threads her fingers through the wire, the tentative caress of her fingertips on my skin making my pulse leap in my throat.

Her tears begin in earnest as she grips my hand, and I'm amazed by how comforted I am by her touch, her skin warm against mine. I can no longer stop my own tears, a confusion of pain and love, shame and anger.

I want this to be over.

~*~*~*~*~

The sound of boots, heavy on the stairs signals the end of our time together. Our Red Cell host pauses for a moment before us, studying us intently. I grasp the wire of Nikita's cell harder in my hand, knowing that there is only more pain to come.

"Very touching." The sarcasm in his voice is unmistakable. I feel the weight of his stare as he studies us, as though he can't quite comprehend such emotion. "Both of you, so strong, so... committed." He kicks at the front of our cells, and the force of the blow loosens my grip. The cages swing apart, and the loss of Nikita's touch is more acute than I want to think about. I hear her breathing quicken, the fear coming off her in waves. Our jailer considers us briefly, an odd smile on his face. "We will try again. I think I have the key." He happily pats the satchel that he is carrying before handing it to one of his co-workers to hold while he opens it.

He continues, his tone almost conversational. "Michael's greatest fear is that he will dishonor himself."

A burning fear twists my gut. So this is how it is going to happen. Oh, Nikita, please forgive me.

I force myself to watch calmly as the other operatives carry in the same metal board that Nikita was strapped into earlier, trying to deaden my senses as they open the door of my cell and haul me out. I bite down on my groan of pain as my body protests at the rough handling, knowing that any sign of weakness on my part will only endanger Nikita further.

My back and legs are burning, my eyes are stinging and the muffled ringing in my ears won't go away, no matter how many times I shake my head. I let myself go limp in the unwanted embrace of the two Red Cell operatives, and shift my head slightly so that I can still see Nikita.

My heart sinks when I finally manage to focus on her. She is standing now, her fingers curling and uncurling around the dirty wire of her cell in agitation.

"Why don't you just kill him?!" The pain in her voice is obvious, far too obvious.

My torturer answers her politely, looking pleased at this evidence of her distress. "I'm going to fill his mind with madness. Later, I will dump him on the streets of some remote city, and let him wander...."

I watch with dread out of the corner of my eye as he fills a syringe with a dark red liquid. I have no doubt that whatever he is planning to inject me with will be swift and deadly. He throws another pleased look at Nikita as he finishes his thought. "...out of control."

A thick leather strap is thrown around my waist, my arms pushed flush against my side as the restraint is pulled tighter and tighter. Another hand reaches for my throat, pulling a band of leather around my neck firmly, so hard that I almost gag.

"This is your hell." He is right, but in a way he will never know.

I hear the sharp hiss of Nikita's breath, her voice cracking with emotion.

"He won't tell you."

"Amongst the gibberish he'll speak, he'll reveal the location."

"He won't break." Her belief in me shatters what is left of my brittle heart.

He looks at her and shrugs disinterestedly. "Then we both just watch him go mad."

"Please!!" Nikita's shrill cry tears at my soul. Such agony, such passion. I deserve none of it.

I try to swallow but it is so difficult with the leather strap around my neck, digging into my throat. I know that looking at her will only make things worse, but I can't help watching her through the hair that has fallen wetly onto my forehead. The sound of her soft weeping is ripping strips off my heart.

"Tell me the location."

He pauses, sensing that she is weakening. I watch her mouth open, but no sound comes out. Shocked at the violence of the struggle she is having within herself, I want to close my eyes, unable to bear the sight of her pain, knowing that I should have found a way to prevent it, somehow. I clench my fists tightly as Nikita bows her head low, her face hidden behind her hair.

"Frankfurt, Germany." The words can barely be heard... a distressed whisper, almost to herself.

Our jailer pounces, pushing her to the brink. "What did you say?"

No.

I keep my eyes closed tightly, but I hear a painfully whispered word. "......Frankfurt, Germany."

No.

"Louder, so I can hear."

Nikita...no...

The agony wracking my body from the torture, the sharp stab of the syringe pressing into the tendon in the side of my neck...none of it compares to the pain that squeezes my chest as I watch Nikita agonise over my life. She is doubled over in as if in great pain, her head nearly touching the floor of her cell, her body swaying from side to side, sobs shaking her frame.

I was wrong. She will break. And it will be because of me. I finally have an answer to the question that has haunted me for nearly three years, and I wish to God that I didn't have to find out this way.

Shame burns my soul but there is nothing I can do to stop this now. Thousands of Section operatives will die unless Nikita 'betrays' Section and tells this man what he wants to know. The sooner it is done, the better. Nikita's despairing sobs echoing hollowly in my head, I harden my heart. The future of Section depends on these few moments. Nikita must break. She has to be pushed over the edge, and I have to do it. God forgive me. I can't bear to witness her pain any longer...I just want this nightmare to be over.

Hating myself for taking advantage of her compassion, I pull my thoughts together and concentrate on the end game I have sworn to achieve. Sucking stale air into my lungs in a deep breath, I call out to her, my ribs burning with the effort.

"Nikita....No!" Her distraught face fills my mind as the words leave my dry throat, and I realise with some confusion that I'm not lying. I don't want her to do this.

Nikita flinches at the sound of my voice. I watch her take a deep breath, her entire focus narrowing down to the face of the enemy in front of her. She is now weeping violently, but pulls her head back to stare our captor in the face, flinging my words, my lie, at him with hate in her eyes.

"It's the sub-basement of the abandoned rendering plant at the end of the canal in Frankfurt...Germany". The last word is almost a scream, her voice rough with pain.

My breath is burning my lungs, and I close my eyes as a confused tangle of emotions overwhelms me. She told them. She broke. She betrayed Section to save my life, and she will hate herself for it. A single ugly thought pounds in my head, shoving everything else aside.

Not as much as she will hate me.

~*~*~*~*~

"Put him back in the cage." He walks slowly over to stand in front of Nikita, pushing his face close to hers. "Until I check the information."

Closing my eyes in despair, I try to focus on what must come next. I let my physical pain wash over me, welcoming the distraction from the agony of my thoughts. An eternity later, I become vaguely away of rough hands releasing the restraints, sour smelling bodies pressing close as I feel myself being carried yet again, before I am falling, falling hard against cold metal. The silence rings in my ears, shocking after so much noise, so much emotion.

I feel exhaustion lapping at me, threatening to drag me down into warm oblivion. I want to sleep, so badly I can almost taste it.

"Michael..." Nikita's hesitant whisper penetrates the haze of pain.

Nikita. Unbidden, my heart starts to beat out a staccato rhythm at the gentle sound of my name from her lips. I listen to my breathing, ragged and sore in my chest, as I gather the courage to face her.

"You told them." My voice sounds like a stranger's. I turn to look at her and am awed into silence once again by the overwhelming emotion glittering in her luminous blue eyes. Guilt flashes across her face, and my soul aches that she has misunderstood my shock. I am truly overwhelmed by what she has just done. It's not that she has just betrayed Section, but the realisation that she has betrayed Section for me that has my whole body suddenly burning with shame.

I want to be angry with her for putting my life ahead of the good of Section, but I can't. How can I? I would have done the same for her in less than a heartbeat. I can't bear the see the guilt in her eyes. If she only knew that she had just done exactly what Section wanted her to do, perhaps for the first time. I clamp down on my guilt and prepare to finish off this revolting farce.

Please forgive me.

"It doesn't matter." It matters all too much. I can't deny it. In the few seconds before fear and dread overcame any other emotion, pure joy had flooded my body and heart at the realisation of how much she cares for me. The wariness came all too soon though, the sudden insidious knowledge that this mission profile was about more than defeating Red Cell. Madeline's face flashes into my mind, her insinuations regarding my emotions where Nikita is concerned ringing in my ears.

When has Section ever missed the opportunity to perform a few psyche tests on its operatives when the chance arose? My heart sinks as I study Nikita's pale and bloody face, her eyes filled with sorrow. We've just given them more ammunition than they will ever need.

I drag my mind back to our present situation. No matter how I handle these next few minutes, Nikita's sympathy for me is going to turn to anger, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"We've got to get out of here."

She looks at me in surprise, her eyes following every move I make. I study the walls and floor of my metal cell carefully, trying to discover any structural weaknesses.

There. A small second opening in the floor of this strange cage, almost a trapdoor beneath my feet. I send up a silent prayer of thanks for my last-minute decision to hide Walter's latest little toys in the seam of my shirt collar rather than my jacket, which is now lying ripped and bloody on the floor of the antechamber.

Carefully pulling out the thin metallic slivers, I twist them together to activate the explosive component, sliding them into the hinged lock of the bottom of my cell, Walter's words of warning ringing in my ears. Three seconds until they're active, and don't look directly at them.

I look at Nikita. "Cover your eyes." She hesitates for only a second before complying, putting her hands up over her eyes as she turns her face away. The burst of flame is short, intense and very effective. I kick the trapdoor at the bottom of the cell, gratified to feel it give way easily under my boot. Dropping to the floor, I scan the area through watering eyes. There is movement to my left, up on the walkway above us.

I crouch down, my heart hammering in my throat, but the approaching Red Cell operative hasn't noticed what is happening below him. I run as quickly as my shaky legs will take me to the side wall, standing directly below him. He seems totally unprepared for the possibility of the prisoners escaping, and as I pull myself up to the walkway, I'm stunned at how easy it is to overpower him.

He offers no resistance as I grab his arm roughly and pull him over the railing, pilfering his weapon at the same time. The side of his head hits the concrete floor with a sickening thud.

I drop back to the ground and move back towards the cages, feeling Nikita's eyes on me. Raising the gun, I glance up at her, a rare look of perfect understanding passing between us. She steps back against the wall of the cage at the same instant I bark out a warning her to get back. The shot shatters the lock instantly and Nikita stamps down hard on the trapdoor, flinging it open. I watch her take a few limping steps towards the opening and move swiftly to stand beneath the wire structure, holding her eyes with mine.

I see hesitation flash across her face briefly before she jumps the short distance into my arms. My bruised ribs scream silently in protest as I take her weight, and I feel Nikita's body stiffen as she realising how close I am holding her to me. Her eyes widen and she seems oddly embarrassed, pulling away quickly as she turns her head. I set her on her feet steadily and head towards the most likely egress point slowly.

The drugs in my system are making it hard to recall the intel sent by Birkoff that I studied all too quickly before coming in to retrieve Nikita. Nikita is suddenly right beside me, reaching out to stop me. Her hand is firm and warm on my chest, touching me where my shirt has ripped. Her eyes are searching, questioning.

"What's going on?"

The touch of her hand on my bare skin is dangerously intoxicating, my overwrought emotions far too close to the surface. "Later." I pull away from her reluctantly. "We've got to go."

Finally getting my bearings, I motion to Nikita and we begin to run through the compound, my legs feeling like water as I move. We come to a narrow corridor. It is a potential point of ambush, but it can't be helped. It is the only way out. I urge Nikita along, my tired eyes trying to look everywhere at once. We pause as we hear muffled speech, slowing our pace to a cautious walk as we move along the corridor. A disembodied voice floats through the empty compound.

"I'll clean up here and join you." Nikita freezes, her body stiffening as the easily recognisable tones of our erstwhile captor wash over her. I know exactly what flashes through her mind. I don't blame her. I want to kill him myself, but we can't. We have to go.

I make a grab for her arm. "Forget him! We're finished here. We can't do anything to interfere."

She flings me an angry stare. "Interfere? With what?"

"Our job is to get back to the Section."

She shakes off my hand and takes off at a run, too fast for me to grab hold of her.

"Nikita!!" Damn her! I try to follow her but footsteps sounding heavily behind me pull me back to reality. Bullets spray the wall behind me as I make a desperate lunge for cover. I have no idea what drugs I've been pumped with, but they're not helping my reflexes in the slightest. Peering from my position behind a crumbling wall, I try to take stock of the situation as best I can through the pounding in my head. One guard, in the shadows to the left. Reload. Ignore the pain.

I stretch one leg out and push my foot against the base of the rotten wall, sending debris tumbling down onto the concrete floor. The shadow moves. Setting my jaw against the pain in my shoulders, I raise my gun and fire rapidly into the darkness. The dull thud of a body hitting the floor confirms that my aim was just fine.

I wait, my senses straining to pick up any further signs of hostile company. Unbidden, my mind swoops to Nikita again. Where the hell is she?! This place is worse than a maze, a rotting rabbit warren of a fortress. I move quickly through the compound, taking the same direction as Nikita's frenzied flight. The whole area seems deserted. Wait. The faint rumble of conversation drifts through the stale air. It's so hard to tell where it is actually coming from. I wipe my sleeve across my eyes, trying to clear my head. There. A flash of blonde hair about twenty-five yards away. I blink, trying to take in what I'm seeing. Nikita is standing in a doorway with her back to me, her posture ramrod straight.

I have to stop her. This mission is going to leave enough scars without the added burden of having to live with the fact that for the first time, she has killed someone out of anger. I start to run towards her, desperately wanting to call out to her, but I can't, not without giving away our position.

I'm only ten feet away from her when she speaks to her unseen companion, the cruel intent in her tone stopping me in my tracks.

"They're going to have to update my file!"

There's nothing I can do. I stand and wait, a strange helplessness gripping me as I watch her raise her gun and fire, the shot echoing through the seemingly empty compound. Her arm drops limply to her side, but she doesn't move from her position.

"Nikita..." She whirls around at the sound of my voice and just looks at me, her chest heaving with emotion. The flare of rage in her eyes fades as we stare at each other, quickly replaced by a swell of unshed tears that causes a sudden lump in my own throat. I want to be angry with her for being so impulsive, for presumably giving away our location, but the words won't come out.

The heavy silence stretches awkwardly between us until the sound of pounding footsteps thunder towards us, splintering the suddenly too-intense atmosphere. In unspoken agreement, we turn and begin to run towards egress, trying to look in every direction at once.

The exit is one level above us, but I have no idea how many more Red Cell operatives are on site. My lungs feel like they are going to burst. Stop. Reload. Ignore the pain. Slowing my pace, I maneuver Nikita into position behind one of the main walls. There are stairs to the next level about ten feet away, stairs that will hopefully take us out of this hellhole. I crouch down, trying to ease the burning ache in my lungs and lower back.

"We'll have to let the Section know the location's been revealed." Nikita chambers her gun hard and looks at me.

I won't lie to her. "They already know."

Nikita's no fool. Any second now the pieces are going to slide into place, and although there will be never be a good place or time to have the confrontation that I know is fast approaching, it is definitely not a discussion I want to have here.

I ignore her questioning stare, and start moving towards the stairs, scanning the walkway above us for hostiles. She follows me slowly, and I can sense her mind churning, frantically processing her suspicions.

"Already know? How is that possible?" I watch her eyes as she asks me this, and my stomach flips coldly as I see stunned realisation flood their depths.

"You used me?" The sadness in her voice almost breaks my heart. She sounds like a child, who has had too many promises made and broken. My chest tightens as I suddenly understand that this is exactly what she was....and what she still is. I watch helplessly as the tears well in her eyes. I can't deny it. I have used her. We've both been used, but that doesn't matter.

Not now.

"You fed me the location thinking I'd crack under torture." Her voice is rough with tears and disbelief.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm so proud of her, her strength, her loyalty and compassion, but this is not the time or place to reassure her. I try to push down the bile that rises in my throat so I can speak. My words are so inadequate that I'm mortified just hearing myself say them. "We knew you wouldn't crack, that's why I was sent in."

Nikita swallows hard, her face suddenly suffusing with colour as all the implications of my admission become clear. She almost seems embarrassed. "What about all your words?"

I can only meet her eyes for a few seconds before shame overcomes me. There is no way that I can ever tell her what I really want to say, so I say nothing. It doesn't help that there was only one lie. I knew that we had every chance of getting out alive. Everything else was so painfully, so shockingly true that just the memory of my words makes me wince. I watch as her eyes cloud over, a dark veil of misery and hurt shrouding them.

"I finally get it." The anger in her voice sends a cold shudder down my back, but it's no more than I deserve. Worse than that, there is an underlying sadness, an intense feeling of regret in her words that stings me. "I finally know what attracts me to you. It's the character you pretend to be." I finally meet her gaze once more, silently flinching at the loathing dripping from every word.

"The real Michael would disgust me, I'm sure."

I don't blame her.

We can't do this here. I want time to talk to her, to explain that I had to do what I did. Resisting the urge to grab her and physically drag her from the compound, I suppress an exhausted sigh and let my eyes caress her face, silently pleading with her to understand.

Please, I want to fix this, but we can't do it now. "Can we finish this later?"

Nikita doesn't answer me. Knowing that her anger will not prevent her from following my commands as the team leader, I let out the breath that I'm holding and start up the stairs, confident that no matter how much she hates me right now, she will follow.

The restraining hand on my shoulder stops me, and I look at her in surprise. The hardness in her eyes chills my heart, and her fingers dig fiercely into my flesh as she stares at me. Her contempt for me is humming from every inch of her, and it's almost more than I can bear. She opens her mouth to speak, and I steel myself for her anger.

"We're finished."

So final, my mind thinks in confusion. I shake my head mentally, trying to clear my thoughts. Every second that we linger in this hell, our chances of getting out alive decrease more and more. Knowing that I am hurting her even more with my silence and yet unable to do anything else, I pull my arm away from her grasp abruptly and continue up the stairs, leaving her silently seething behind me. If anger will get her moving and out of here, so be it.

I hold my breath as I climb the stairs, unable to concentrate on our surroundings properly until I can sense Nikita following me, albeit reluctantly. She is hanging back, obviously not wanting to get any closer to me. Turning my head to urge her to hurry, a dark shape flashes across my line of vision.

Slow-motion. A gun shot. Nikita falls awkwardly onto the ground, blood staining her shoulder. Her cry of pain echoing in my head, I whirl around, the gun seeming to explode in my grip as the Red Cell Operative falls to the floor, the gun that he shot Nikita with still clutched tightly in his dead hand.

"Damn it! Nikita?" I run to where she lies and slide my hands under her body, trying to check her wound and still watch for hostiles at the same time. She is dazed, feebly pushing my hands away from her.

"Don't....touch....me." Her eyes blaze angrily into mine as she grits her teeth at the pain. I ignore both her stare and her flailing hands, moving my fingers over her shoulder gently yet urgently, seeking and probing.

Entry wound. Exit wound. Good. I pull her up to a sitting position, easing her jacket off her shoulders quickly before ripping out the inside lining in strips. It's not much, but it's lightweight and will help staunch the blood flow. I pull the collar of Nikita's shirt to one side, exposing her bare and bloody shoulder.

"Take your hands off me, Michael." Nikita puts a hand on my chest and pushes hard, but I smack her hand away roughly. Tears well up in her eyes and she looks down, biting her lip in pain. I have to keep ignoring her anger, her tears. My only goal is to keep her alive and get us out of here.

I strap her shoulder in a crude bandage, only meeting her eyes when it is done, startled by what I see in them.

She is staring at me, a look of hurt bewilderment on her face. The shock of being shot has obviously pushed her emotions to the brink. It's almost as though I've hurt her far more than the bullet that just pierced and tore her flesh.

"Michael...why?" The soft accusation is like a punch in the stomach.

"Nikita, please. Not now." I pull her roughly to her feet. A shiver of dread shoots through me as I watch Nikita's face turn white, pain etched on her features. She slumps in my embrace and I tighten my arms around her.

"God damn it, Nikita. Don't do this!" She is so still in my arms, her heartbeat a sluggish flutter against my own chest. I had been worried that my legs weren't going to carry me to the pick-up point a mile away. Now I realise with grim determination that they are going to have to do a lot more work than that. I haul her up and over my uninjured shoulder. A potent combination of adrenaline and fear surges through my veins, flooding my exhausted limbs with a desperate strength.

My leg muscles are burning as we reach the exit, and Nikita is disturbingly quiet in my arms. But her shallow breathing is rasping in my ear reassuringly, and I can feel the thud of her heart against my shoulder. I take us out the same way I first entered the compound. My god, that seems like an eternity ago.

It is wonderfully dark outside, no illuminating moonlight to hinder our escape. The sweat on my face dries instantly in the cold night air, the fresh wind almost intoxicating after so many hours in that dank cement bunker.

Praying that the retrieval team will still be at the pre-arranged co-ordinates, I shift Nikita's weight slightly on my shoulder and start to walk towards towards the pick-up point. Her body suddenly tenses beneath my hands and she wriggles half-heartedly, her clenched fists hitting my back once, then twice. I stagger slightly before tightening my grip on her hips almost painfully, almost smiling with satisfaction as I hear her outraged intake of breath. I keep walking, every single step feeling like a thousand.

It's going to be a very long mile.

~*~*~*~