The low roar of the van's engine is the only sound to have broken the heavy silence between us for the last two hours. Nikita won't look at me, won't speak to me. She has been lying on the flat bench in the same position, without moving, without speaking. I have been trying not to stare at her, but it's impossible.

Now as I watch her, a solitary tear escapes from beneath a tightly closed eyelid and trickles slowly down a cheek streaked with blood and dirt. This has gone on long enough.

"Nikita?" Damn. I sound entirely too unsure of myself, and silently curse the betraying hesitation in my voice.

Nikita finally turns her head to look at me. Her eyes wander over my face before taking me in from head to toe in one scathing glance. She turns her head back to stare straight ahead, frowning. Her tone is conversational, but every word she says is like a hammer on a bruise. "You know, Michael...I nearly died the other day when Red Cell broke into my apartment." She pauses, her eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling of the transport van.

"I was so relieved to hear your voice on the phone, I almost cried." Her eyes slowly close, as though the memory alone is enough to disturb her.

"And I was actually happy to get to Section, knowing that I would be safe, that yo...that Section wouldn't let anything happen to me." She flushes at the betraying slip, but carries on.

"But I'm not safe, am I Michael? I'll never be safe, ever again. Not in Section..." She turns her head again and her gaze catches mine. I want to look away as I see her eyes fill with angry tears, but I can't. Nikita takes a deep breath, her eyes raking my face. "Not with you."

There is nothing I can say in my defense that she will believe. I did the only thing I could within the mission parameters to keep her physically safe. The consequences of my actions are now all too clear. "Nikita..."

"Save it. I told you. We're finished." Her voice trails off as weariness and the effects of her blood loss finally become too much, and she closes her eyes, exhaustion claiming her at last. The sudden silence in the back of the van is deafening, and I am left alone with my thoughts.

They're not very good company.

~*~*~*~*~

"Was there any reason that the mission profile had to involve Nikita betraying Section for my sake?" Madeline looks at me, one eyebrow raised but says nothing. "I was the operative with the secondary intel on this mission. The same end game could have been achieved had I been the one to break." I struggle to keep my emotions in check. It is a battle I only just win. But even as I say the words, I know that there was no other way for the mission to play out. This realisation doesn't help assuage the shame that is still churning my insides.

Madeline studies me calmly, a small smile appearing. "I disagree. Any other scenario would not have been believable. Nikita's weaknesses were well documented, her compassion, her inability to see the bigger picture..." Madeline runs her eyes over my face, seemingly unaware of the maelstrom of anger and bitterness sweeping over me. She smiles slightly, an almost condescending curl of her mouth. "Not to mention her increasingly obvious...attachment to you, Michael." I say nothing, letting her words flow over me without resistance.

"Red Cell was in possession of your file. They had to be well aware of your high level of resistance to torture and unquestionable loyalty to the Section." I stare at Madeline, thinking of Nikita and the words I heard her say as I arrived too late to stop her, the defiant words she threw at her torturer before she took her gun and shot him. They're going to have to update my file.

I know exactly what she meant.

Madeline walks towards me casually, her eyes flicking over my ripped mission gear and bloody face. "You should report to Medlab so they can take care of those wounds." She continues to speak as she walks towards the door of her office, her words mild but with an undercurrent of something else, almost taunting me.

"You may want to check on Nikita while you are there."

~*~*~*~*~

So pale.

I stand and study her, my eyes watching the slight rise and fall of her chest, her breathing shallow and restless. Those bites....they stand out so much on her white skin, I hadn't realised just how badly she had been bitten until we got into Medlab and they cleaned her face.

The bullet went right through, piercing only flesh, no bone. Painful but not too bad. It's not the physical scarring that has me standing here dithering with unaccustomed indecision, unable to leave her, yet unable to reach out and touch her.

I didn't think the mission would affect her that much. I didn't think that I would feel this guilty. I try to blink away the grittiness in my eyes and finally let a thought come that I have been pushing away for the last ten hours.

I had never let myself believe that she felt so much for me.

I close my eyes, remembering the look of sheer agony on her face when she had to choose between my life and Section. I honestly didn't think that she would do it.

But she did. She did it for me. And I had to throw it back in her face. There is an empty ache deep inside me, and a hot uncomfortable longing floods my body, my soul...a longing for something I know can never happen. The sound of the automatic doors opening registers in my mind, but I don't bother turning my head. I know who it will be.

"How is she doing?" Madeline sounds concerned, motherly.

I am so weary of only saying words that are best for Section. I look at them. If I didn't know otherwise, I would think that they were really concerned about her. Sadly, I do know otherwise. Anger makes me reckless, and for once I say exactly what I am thinking.

"Better than any of us."

I see them exchange a surprised look at my candour. To hell with them.

Operations seems uncomfortable, obviously unused to such emotion from me. Well, that makes two of us. I watch as he shoots Madeline another cryptic glance, and they slowly walk out of the room, leaving me alone with Nikita. Apart from quite a bit of surveillance, no doubt. I don't care.

If I could have traded places with her, I would have. But the mission profile was set, and I had to carry it out. The lives of thousands of Operatives depended on what happened in that Red Cell compound. I admit it. I would have done and said anything to keep her alive and still carry out the mission successfully.

But how can I now expect her to believe anything I say? In her eyes, I have lied and betrayed her.

Again.

I have a wife that I can't let myself love, a son that I should have never allowed to be born. At last letting my thoughts wander where they will, I think of my son. Adam. My heart flutters as I picture his face smiling up at me, so trusting, his eyes glowing with misplaced hero-worship.

I have told myself over and over that I should be grateful that I have this time with Adam and Elena, that I have the chance to be ordinary, the chance to feel what it is like to have a normal life.

It never works.

Happy families. The husband and father, adored by wife and son. It's not my life. My life is profiling missions and killing terrorists, breaking the spirit of raw recruits and obeying orders. As soon as Section has Vachek, my part in Adam's life, in Elena's life will be over. Forever. I will indeed be dead to them. Dead to myself.

I look down at Nikita, letting my eyes trace the contours of her face. I can't deny it to myself any longer. She is my only tangible reality, the one thing that still makes any sense to me in the confused hell that is my life.

The only part of me that's not dead is you. I let out my breath shakily as I let myself think of those few moments we had alone together. Those words were wrenched from the darkness deep inside me, and no matter what happens between us now, I don't regret saying them. It was as though an enormous pressure pushing down on my chest had suddenly been lifted. The truth will set you free, I muse wryly. It doesn't, not really. But my thoughts are stubborn, mulishly clinging to a truth that I should never have let into my heart. In those few brief moments in those rusty wire cages, nothing and no one else mattered.

Only Nikita.

She stirs in her sleep, drawing my gaze once more. I desperately need to sleep myself, but it's as though I can't leave her side until I've explained, apologised, done something.

To be honest, I can't really explain why I'm still here. I hate Medlab with a passion, and to still be here when I was released two hours ago...no wonder Madeline and Operations felt compelled to come down to check on Nikita, on us.

Us? There can never be an "us". Nikita seems to be able to grasp that fact better than I can. I look down at my shoulder, staring at the small Scattering of bruises on my skin from where she gripped me so hard, anger fuelling her strength.

We're finished. The only thing worse than the icy disgust she flung at me was the sadness and disappointment shimmering in her eyes. The startling knowledge that she would have gladly welcomed my words and my feelings if they had been real is nearly too much to take in.

I catch myself. If my feelings had been real? The hopelessness of our situation crashes over me. I already have two innocent lives in my keeping...I can't let Nikita become any more entangled in my life. But knowing this and actually having the strength to stay away are two different things. I know that now, all too well.

I have to get out of this room, before I give Madeline any more damning evidence for her mental file. But I can't help walking around Nikita's gurney, trailing my hand along the starched white sheet. Something feels unfinished, as though I need to make amends somehow before I leave. She is curled up on the stretcher like a child, her knees pulled up nearly to her chest, body slightly twisted. Does she always sleep like that? It looks so uncomfortable.

The surveillance camera is now behind me, my body blocking Nikita's face from its impersonal stare. As I lean over her, I can hear her breathing, a soft peaceful sighing that seems so at odds with the almost violent emotions that have passed between us. I have no idea if she can hear me. I don't even know if I want her to.

"It wasn't all a lie." The pain gripping my heart lessens slightly, a strange sense of relief coming over me as I whisper to her, the soft words sounding so loud in this stark, empty room.

Nothing. No reaction at all. Nikita sleeps, utter exhaustion seeming to strip her face back to the bare bones.

I let my eyes linger on her parted lips, the scent of her skin filling my senses. Compulsion grips me, and I give in. Bending my head, I press my mouth to hers. Her lips move slightly under the pressure of the kiss, and I have to pull away before I give in further, before I lose myself to the almost overwhelming urge to gather her in my arms.

In her sleep, Nikita jerks her mouth away from my mine, and I feel as though she's slapped me in the face. She's asleep. She couldn't have felt that. A deep sigh pushes up from deep inside me before I can stop it. It doesn't matter. I look down at her sadly as I straighten my body, the sudden stab of pain in my spine reminding me that I should be concentrating on my own recovery.

For once I decide to heed my body's warning signals. Sadly, it may be less painful to deal with recovering from my injuries than to deal with Nikita's reaction if she woke up now and found me here.

I make my way slowly to my Section quarters, feeling every one of my years. Red Cell's torture techniques were quite inventive, and I know that it will be quite a long time before the lingering memory of that particular session leaves me. I shake my head and almost smile. When the pain was too much, too intense to bear, just letting my mind embrace my memories of Nikita seemed to dull the agony, to lessen the stinging blows that seemed to shred my very insides.

No, it wasn't all a lie, but what can I do about it? I reach my quarters and stare unseeing at the bare walls and impersonal fixtures. So another decision lies before me, one that will force me to choose between what I must do, and what I really want to do.

Do I let Nikita keep believing that everything I said was a lie? Or do I do everything I can to make her see that my words were true. Make her realise that my emotions were so frighteningly real that the intensity of the feeling between us both shocked and thrilled me?

I know the course of action I should take. I should let Nikita believe that it was all play-acting on my part to ensure a successful end game, no matter how it affects our mentor/trainee relationship. To do anything less would be to threaten the success of the Vachek deep-cover mission, attract the attention of Section and endanger Nikita's life.

I close my eyes as I sink down onto the bed in my quarters. The way Nikita's face twisted with misery and anger when she finally understood the real mission profile has burnt onto my brain.

I know very well what I should do...for the good of the Section. I also know that I no longer care only about the good of the Section. I reach up to rub my aching temples with a slightly unsteady hand. If nothing else, this mission has helped me understand something else...something else that is pointless for me to deny any longer.

I can't live without her.

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