Section One: Comms
01/08 07:45 hours

Shades of red and blue reflected off of Michael's face as he leaned in towards Birkoff's computer screen to scrutinize the Sim results coming up before him.

"Birkoff, what does this mean?" Michael asked, pointing at an unfamiliar cluster.

"I'm checking into it. I'll have a readout for you in five minutes." Birkoff's voice was tense as his fingers moved easily across the face of the keyboard.

Michael leaned back from the screen and took a deep breath. It was too early in the morning for Section to be in such pandemonium. He needed to step away from it all and take time out to think. "I'll be in my office." He informed Birkoff, then quickly exited the terminal.

He was halfway to his office when, for no particular reason, he glance up at the bridge... to see Operations looking directly down at him. Michael said nothing, just averted his eyes uneasily, paused for a moment, then continued on to his office. Just a few moments later there came a knock at his door, just as he suspected it would.

"Come in," Michael called out.

Operations opened the door and entered the office. *Now this is unusual,* Michael mused to himself, *Operations coming to ME? On MY turf?* But he said nothing.

"Hello, Michael," Operations greeted, his mouth screwed into a taut, oily smile-a smile he used only when he was concealing something from an operative. Michael had learned to read that smile well.

"Hello." Michael replied curtly, but not coldly. Unsure of how to treat this unexpected visit to his office, he graciously motioned to a chair and said "Have a seat,"

Operations shook his head. He still wished to maintain the position of power in this situation. "I have a proposition for you..."Michael nodded his head, saying nothing.

"You must recall our discussion several months ago…" Operations began

Michael nodded his recollection of the event and waited for Operations to continue.

"The time has come much sooner than I thought it would." Operations looked directly at Michael for a response. There was none on Michael's face. His features were flat and emotionless.

Operations continued, "I'm being transferred by a higher-up to a less conspicuous, but more administrative position. The transition will occur in two weeks' time. I need to have a new leader in place before that transpires."

Operations drew in a deep breath, and paced the length of Michael's office before coming to stop right in front of his desk. "Michael, I have three candidates in mind to fill my seat. You're my number one. I'm coming to you first, because I believe you're the best suited for the job. The best suited and the most qualified. But it's up to you." Michael knew Operations was building up to the catch.

"What does this transition require from me?" He asked slowly and cautiously.

Operations paused, placing his words very carefully. "When a new Operations is brought into power, every operative in the Section is cleaned out. The higher-ranking, more valuable operatives are transferred to different Sections. The lower-ranking operatives may be sent to re-train in different Sections as well, but most of the less valuable operatives... those that are expendable... are cancelled. We want you to have a "clean slate" to work with when you start. You will be given all new operatives; some brought in from different Sections, others brought in fresh for training. No one will know your past, no one will have the advantage of being able to predict your actions. This eliminates the possibility of mutiny or disobedience. The group is brought in fresh and unfamiliar with each other, to be molded by your capable hands into whatever you choose."

Michael nodded, as he was beginning to see the "bigger picture".

"Michael," Operations stopped short, looking at him directly. "This includes EVERYONE. Should you become Operations, even Nikita will be transferred. You will never see her again," he paused a moment to let the words sink in before continuing, "Of course, it's your choice. We could transfer you both to another Section when the new Operations comes into power. There are some Sections that are more casual about relationships between operatives. If it is your wish, I could send both you and Nikita there when I leave Section. But it's up to you."

Operations paused for a moment, and realizing that Michael was not going to give him an answer immediately, he finished, "You have three days to come to terms with what I've told you. I expect an answer by the end of the third day."

Operations waited for a moment before leaving the room to try and get some kind of recognition from Michael. Michael, however, did everything he could to avoid looking at him directly. Operations got the message and left quietly.

Michael’s Office
01/08 22:20 hours

Michael had felt as if he were in a trance the rest of the day. The world seemed to move in slow motion around him, and he was isolated in his own little bubble. He stayed in his office until very late that night, dreading the emptiness and desperation he knew he'd feel once he got home.

"Michael?" Nikita's soft voice spoke from the doorway.

Michael's head snapped up abruptly. He had figured just about every free operative had gone home for the evening... the only people that would be left at Section would be those monitoring the current mission, and those working graveyard in Comms.

"Nikita. I thought you'd be home by now." Michael avoided her probing gaze... only stared intently at his empty computer screen, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"I was detained. Something went wrong with the mission, and Operations asked me to monitor until things got cleared up. Why are you still here?"

Michael shrugged. "I had things to do."

"Oh." Nikita half-nodded, as if she understood. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Michael answered, his voice controlled and void of emotion. "I'm fine." He allowed himself to look at her for a brief moment, then turned his attention back to his blank computer.

"I received the notice today... Michael, we're being transferred. A lot of us are. You, Birkoff, Walter and me. We're all going to Section Four." She paused and regarded him silently for a moment. "You must have known. Why didn't you tell me?"

Michael only slightly winced as her words hit him. She obviously had no idea what that meant... most lower-level operatives didn't. Nikita was trying to get information from him he wasn't at liberty to give.

"Would you like to join me for dinner?" Michael asked, surprising even himself with the abruptness of the question.

Nikita blinked, unfazed. "Sure. Let me go get my coat..." She stood and looked at Michael curiously. She wanted to ask more, but knew where to stop when it came to digging with Michael.

Michael avoided her probing gaze and shifted his attention back to his empty computer screen. "I'll wait for you above ground."

Above Ground
01/08 22:32 hours

Ten minutes later, Nikita appeared on the sidewalk above. Her breath was crisp in the January air, her hair frosty against the black of her overcoat. She looked beautiful, Michael thought, and his heart ached for her.

"You look beautiful..." he said finally, brushing his lips against her cheek in a warm greeting after a few moments of struggling with his emotions.

Nikita smiled quizzically, obviously confused. "Thank you..."

"Where would you like to go to eat?" Michael asked quickly, keeping the conversation light.

"I don't care... anything sounds good to me about now!"

Michael glanced across the street and noticed a transit bus loading passengers. For the first time in a long while he felt spontaneous. He took Nikita's hand and led her toward the bus.

Nikita giggled as she realized his intentions. "Michael, this bus is headed for a city almost seventy miles away!"

Michael said nothing, just paid the bus fare and led Nikita to a window seat near the back. He sat down, and pulled her in close to him, her hand held tightly in his lap. His head leaned in close to hers, his eyes clouded with longing and sorrow...

Nikita felt his sadness. With concern in her voice, she began, "Michael, what's..." "Sssh." He interrupted her. "Let's just enjoy tonight."

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

Nikita awoke the next morning as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window and fell across her face. She turned and gazed at Michael's form lying beside her. His face so serenely peaceful as he slept... at that moment she thought there was nothing so beautiful and angelic on earth. She leaned over him, brushing his cheek with a tender kiss.

Michael's eyelids fluttered at the touch of her lips, and slowly opened. Nikita looked at him intently, unembarrassed by her obvious admiration.

For the first few moments after waking, Michael was sure he was still in a dream... he had forgotten Section, Operations... he thought only of that moment, of being with Nikita... of her passionate eyes and soft lips... He smiled contentedly, languidly resting somewhere between consciousness and slumber.

"Michael," Nikita spoke softly, her voice breaking through his reverie, "I love being here with you..." she smiled sweetly, "But shouldn't we be heading back? We have a long trip ahead, and we're supposed to report to Operations in two hours..."

At this, Michael was instantly jarred into his recollection of the previous day's events. His smile tensed for a moment, then he stretched his arm around Nikita's waist and pulled her closer. "Maybe we should just stay here forever... and never go back to Section."

Nikita laughed. "Wouldn't that be nice!" she smiled, playing along with what she presumed was a joke.

Michael's smile faded and he looked deeply into her eyes. "Kita, I'm serious."

Nikita stopped laughing and looked at him, shock lurking somewhere in her features. "You really are serious.... ?" For a moment she was tempted to agree, to just stay locked away in that hotel room forever. But reason got the better of her, and she immediately began her protests. "Michael, it's impossible. You're impossible. I don't understand you."

Michael sat up, and leaning over her, cupped her face in his hands. "Kita, how do you feel… about us?"

Nikita just stared at him, in a state of dumbfounded shock. The desperate look in his eyes was frightening, and she felt him slipping away from her. Her hand brushed his fingers at her cheek and she smiled nervously. She wanted so badly to open her heart to him, but she felt intimidated by his past rejections, and so unsure of this moment. She tossed off her reply as playfully as she could muster: "You know how I feel about you. I enjoy being with you."

Michael sighed, looked at Nikita for a long moment and kissed her. Nikita's fingers traced the line of Michael's jaw as they parted. She studied his face for a long moment.

"Michael," she finally said, "There's something wrong. You're not yourself. You're never like this. I'm worried."

"It's nothing." Michael insisted, drawing away from her. He stood from the bed and began dressing. Nikita just stared at him, bewildered by his strange behavior. He glanced at her briefly, his face once again an emotionless mask, "You'd better get dressed. We're already late."

Operations’ Perch
01/09 08:00 hours

Back at Section, Madeline and Operations looked over the central HUB of Section One from Operations' perch.

"Do you think he'll be efficient in the role of Operations?" Madeline asked, as her eyes fell on a hurried Michael entering the Section.

"I have no doubt of his capabilities," Operations assured her.

"But he has issues..." Madeline responded, "Certain issues that cannot be resolved. You and I know well how personal dilemmas can undermine authority. His could be a distraction."

"We all have issues, Madeline. We learn to deal with them. Michael has learned to deal with his, as you and I learned to deal with ours."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Madeline agreed with a tight-lipped smile, "But at the time you became Operations, George did not force the issue to us separated. We've seen Michael's reaction when he was separated from Nikita before. He was emotionally volatile, depressed and virtually useless. He cannot perform in such a demanding position of leadership if he is not functioning at full capacity."

"I believe Michael has grown past that, Madeline. I think you'd be surprised at his capabilities," Operations spoke confidently, his smile tightening in his malicious plotting.

Section One: Comms
01/09 19:52 hours

"Hey Birkoff," Nikita greeted, sitting down on a swivel stool behind Birkoff's cubicle in Comms. She waited for a moment while Birkoff finished up running his Sims, twisting her blonde hair around her finger. Michael and Nikita had been back in Section for nearly twelve hours at this point, and she had hardly seen him. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong.

"Hi Nikita, what's going on?" Birkoff greeted, finally turning away from his computer and peering at her through his smoky lenses.

Nikita shrugged. "Not much." She tried to play off her worry with complete coolness, but knew Birkoff sensed her distress. "Actually, it's Michael. Has he said anything to you lately?"

"About what?" Birkoff asked, reviewing conversations he had held with Michael over the past few days in his mind. "Actually, I haven't seen much of him lately," he confessed, suddenly realizing that Michael had not been to see him at all that day. *How Odd...* he thought to himself.

"I just get the feeling... He's not himself lately. I can't explain it..." her eyes darted wildly as she tried to piece her thoughts together, finally slowing to hold Birkoff's gaze. "I'm not making much sense, am I?" She sighed, glancing away self-consciously. "Look, I know I shouldn't ask you to do this, and I could be cancelled for even mentioning it... Do you have access to Section's mainframe?"

"Of course." Birkoff answered, bewildered.

Nikita stood and nervously paced behind Birkoff's desk as she organized her thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess you would, wouldn't you?" She mused to herself. She paced for a few moments more, then leaned in close to Birkoff, lowering her voice to an intense whisper. "Would Operations keep private files on the mainframe? And could you access the files undetected if you needed to?"

"If he's logging it on his computer, I could access it. All units feed into one mainframe. It might take some work, but I could probably zero in on the files coming from his terminal without being suspected. Why? What are you looking for?"

Nikita shrugged. "I don't know. But I think the information I'm looking for would have been entered yesterday. That's about the time Michael started acting... different. I just need to know what's going on..."

Birkoff shook his head. "Look, what Operations and Michael do behind closed doors is their business. I can't help you."

Nikita suddenly felt desperate. "Something's going on and I have a feeling it affects more than just Michael and Operations. Now, do you want it to take us all by surprise, or do you want to know what's going on before it hits you?"

She paused, waiting for Birkoff's rebuttal. When it didn't come, she knew she'd won. Birkoff's curiosity was a stronger form of persuasion than she could ever invoke by pleading. "I'll be in training if you need me," She straightened herself, patted Birkoff on the shoulder, and slipped from the central room.

Operations’ Perch
01/10 08:00 hours

"Hello, Phoenix. Thank you for coming..." Operations greeted, shaking the hand of a dark-haired young man.

"George told me you had an important assignment for me." the young man replied curtly, wasting no time and cutting right to business.

Operations smiled approvingly. "Yes. Although it's probably not what you expected..." Operations began, escorting the new operative to his seat in front of Operations' desk.

Operations sat facing the young man and looked at him for a moment before he began. He liked what he saw in Adam Phoenix... finely-chiseled features, piercing blue eyes... handsome and strong... the very kind of man any sane woman would fall for. This was exactly what Operations had hoped for. He swiveled his computer screen to face Phoenix and typed in a few words. A picture of Nikita immediately appeared on the screen.

"This is one of our operatives here at Section," Operations began. "Her name is Nikita." Phoenix looked only slightly confused as he waited for Operations to continue.

"Certain events are about to take place here, as George may have told you in confidence. No one is to know about them," Operations stated, looking directly at Adam Phoenix. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Phoenix replied. "But what does this woman have to do with the change in Section's 'management'?"

"There is some debate over how much influence she may have over Michael, who is intended to take my position. I wish to remove her as an obstacle to the chain of command. I want the transfer of power to go as smoothly as possible."

"Sir?" Phoenix was still not quite sure how this was all fitting together.

"Cancellation in this case is not an option. The situation is far too delicate to take a chance with emotional reactions. We need to 'dispose' of this woman in a much more discreet fashion. That's where you come in."

Operations stood and paced the room, stopping directly in front of Adam Phoenix. He sat on his desktop in front of the young man and folded his arms neatly across his chest." I want you to seduce Nikita."

The young operative did not flinch. He had worked his way up in Section by taking advantage of his prowess, and knew the influence he had on women. It had been beneficial in many past missions, and he was confident he would not fail in this request.

Operations continued: "Keep her away from Michael for the next two weeks before the change occurs. Turn her from him so that it is very clear that there is nothing more between them. Help him break free of her forever. Can you do this?"

Phoenix nodded.

Operations smiled, his thin lips curving in a line somewhere between cunning and a grimace.

"Good. I'll have her profile on your desk within the hour. Get to work."

Training
01/10 11:31 hours

The infra-red of Nikita's VR VisorShield glowed in the semi-darkness of the SimOrb that encased her. She spun and whirled against her holographic attackers, as she shot her laser in rapid-fire sequence. Her muscles were tense, primed, and quick with each action.

Phoenix observed the way the requisite black-tank catsuit clung to her trim body as he entered the Training Deck unnoticed. As the Sim sequence ended, Nikita lowered her weapon, raised her visor, and wiped the beads of perspiration forming on her brow with the back of her forearm. Phoenix studied her features intently. She was even more breath-taking in person than Operative's profile had indicated.

Nikita stepped from the orb and removed the VR Headgear completely, placing it back on the table atop the Sim-Control Panel where she had first gotten the equipment. Her fingers worked over the knots in her shoulders wearily, her hair damp against the sweat glistening on her neck.

Then, abruptly, she realized the presence of another person in the room, felt his eyes upon her. She turned her head slightly, catching the shadowy form of someone lurking near the doorway out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm finished if you want to go ahead and get started," Nikita offered, assuming the operative was waiting to use the SimOrb.

"Thank you." The voice was a warm, rich baritone that made Nikita stop in her mid-stride and look at the man in her company for the first time.

"I don't think we've met before" Nikita assessed, peering at him good-naturedly. She was certain she could have remembered such a handsome face. "Are you new to Section One?"

"Just transferred in." Phoenix answered, taking a couple of steps towards her and extending his hand in greeting. "Adam Phoenix."

Nikita smiled, accepting his warm handshake. "Nikita."

A slow smile of feigned recognition spread across Phoenix's face. "Ah, the famed Nikita. I should have guessed."

Nikita looked puzzled. "Pardon?"

"I'd heard of how beautiful you are, but I wasn't expecting" Phoenix's eyes roamed over her curves appraisingly. "THIS."

Nikita ran her hands over the front of her catsuit self-consciously. "Well, ah, Adam, the Training Orb is free now if you want to use it. It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime" Nikita awkwardly extended her hand for another handshake.

Phoenix took her hand, turned it palm-side up and brushed his lips against the inside of her wrist. "I certainly hope so." He smiled, his eyes fixed on her face, his voice slightly husky.

Completely flustered, Nikita abruptly turned and fled the room. She was nearly halfway back to Comms when she realized her heart was pounding and her cheeks were flushed. She slowed her pace, then stopped to lean her back against the cool wall of the corridor and catch her breath. She pressed the back of one hand to her burning cheek, feeling slightly dazed. She didn't understand the affect this man had over her... Why did she suddenly feel so threatened?

She laughed aloud to herself as she tried to shake the light-headed giddiness that had settled over her.

"Nikita..." Birkoff's voice snapped her to attention. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Nikita smiled, doing her best to mask her flustered demeanor. "What's up?"

Birkoff ducked his head in confidentially, his voice low. "I just finished running a search on the main database. I couldn't find anything. That doesn't mean that there isn't anything there... it just means that it's well hidden and may take a couple of days for me to find it. I thought I'd come find you to tell you that. I'll keep looking, but it may take a while."

Nikita smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Birkoff. Keep me posted, will you?"

"Absolutely." Birkoff agreed. He turned to head back to Comms, then paused for a moment. "Have you met the new Op yet?"

"Yeah… I just ran into him in Training." Nikita answered, doing her best to keep her voice from betraying her disconcerted state.

"What did you think of him?"

Nikita shrugged. "Seems nice enough." She glanced casually at Birkoff. "Why?"

"No reason." Birkoff shrugged, "All the female ops are talking about him. I haven't seen him myself, but I just wondered if what they're saying is for real, or just a bunch of hype."

"What are they saying?"

Birkoff blushed slightly. "Not much. They're just excited about his… well, you know. They all seem to think he's very attractive; I'll just put it that way. I don't see what the big deal is with women over 'rippling pectorals and a tight butt' anyway." Birkoff shook his head, disgruntled.

Nikita just smiled and watched Birkoff's retreating back. Well, at least I'm not the only one to be the slightest bit affected by his charms, She thought to herself.

********

Michael was sitting in his office, absorbed in his thoughts when Birkoff knocked at his door. "Come in," Michael responded. Birkoff stepped into the room some what sheepishly.

"What is it?" Michael asked. Even though the question felt impatient, his voice was it's usual emotionless drone, masking the turmoil he felt inside.

"Do you remember the readout I gave you yesterday on the Sim results? Well, I'm beginning to think the information is falsified. Or at least incomplete." Birkoff drew a deep breath before continuing, "I re-analyzed the clusters that were reading as invalid yesterday. At first I thought it might have been a defect in the disc we brought in from Helix. But I ran a couple of analyses this morning and it seems that it isn't that at all. I'm beginning to think it's a part of Section's database that has been quarantined, or re-configured somehow. Which means the defect is internalized."

"Birkoff, what are you Saying?"

"Someone in Section would have had to block that information. Someone in Section is protecting Helix. Or at least throwing us a Red-Herring to keep us off their tracks."

Michael stared at him in disbelief. "Print off a readout of your findings. I want it on my desk right away."

"Done," Birkoff replied, handing Michael a copy of the results he had documented just moments earlier. "Of course, there is another possibility..."

"What's that?"

"That this isn't about Helix at all. That all of this is just a cover up for something else."

"Like what?" Michael asked.

Birkoff shrugged. "I don't know." He glanced at Michael, and for a moment Michael thought he saw fear in Birkoff's eyes. "...But I don't like it."

Nikita’s Office—Section One
01/10 13:26 hours

"Do you have a minute?" Michael asked, poking his head in the doorway of Nikita's office.

Nikita sat back from her terminal and glanced up at Michael. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Michael came in, casually sitting on the edge of her desktop. "I had a good time last night." Nikita smiled privately. "So did I."

Michael resisted the urge to kiss her right then, knowing they were being watched. He hated feeling this wall between them. He hated knowing he had to make a choice.

"Is that what you came to tell me?" Nikita asked, prodding gently for any more information he would give her as to what he was thinking.

"Yes." Michael replied, recovering his usual blank expression.

Nikita rose from her desk and leaned her head very near to Michael's ear, her lips barely brushing his earlobe as she spoke in a low voice: "It doesn't have to be like this, Michael. You can tell me."

Michael turned his head to look at her, their noses nearly touching. For a moment he almost opened his soul to her... contemplated telling her everything... all his secrets, his pain... the situation Operations had forced him into... He threw caution to the wind and stopped his mouth by kissing her gently, knowing if he didn't, he'd explode. He lifted her onto the desk and pressed her to him, holding her in a rapt embrace as he sought her lips again and again, willing himself to become completely lost in her arms.

"Excuse me..." The abrupt voice of Adam Phoenix from the doorway of Nikita's office caused Michael to start and practically jump away from Nikita's embrace. Nikita quickly slid from her perch on the desktop and struggled to regain her composure as she flushed embarassedly. She absently tugged a few stray hairs into place, avoiding looking directly at the intruder in the doorway.

Michael acted as if nothing had happened, knowing if Operations had not already been alerted to the display by the Operatives watching the security cams that Phoenix would undoubtedly relay the information himself.

"Yes?" Michael asked, staring blankly at Phoenix. While Michael's expression gave nothing away, Phoenix got the impression that he was being challenged.

"Operations asked me to give you these profiles before the briefing. Since you're both here, I suppose I've just killed two birds with one stone, so-to-speak."

Nikita winced at his choice of words. Phoenix quickly handed them the pertinent files and ducked from the office.

Nikita stared at Michael, waiting for his reaction. He simply turned his back to her and began thumbing through the file he had just been handed, as if nothing had happened. Nikita stood a moment longer in indecision, then brushed past him and pursued Phoenix out into the hall. "Adam!" She called down the corridor.

Phoenix turned and waited for Nikita to catch up with him.

"About what you saw in there..." Nikita began.

"Hey, don't worry. What you do is your own business."

Nikita didn't look reassured. "Please, don't say anything..."

Phoenix cut in once again with a smile: "If you're worried that I'm going to tell Operations about what I just saw, rest easy. My lips are sealed."

Nikita peered into his eyes to determine whether or not she could trust him. She realized for the first time how entrancing his eyes were and had to blink to keep herself from being completely absorbed in them. "Thank you." She said softly, looking away. "Michael and I appreciate your discretion."

"No problem. He's a lucky guy," Phoenix said, nodding in the direction of Nikita's office where Michael still stood. He smiled once more, then began walking down the hall away from her. Nikita realized once more the vague tumult in her stomach, unsure of the affect this man was having on her.

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

"I just came from Nikita's office," Phoenix informed Operations just moments later.

"And?"

"I caught her kissing Michael. You're going to have to separate the two if I'm going to have any chance of moving in on her," Phoenix said, admitting his inability to compete with the place Michael held in Nikita's life. "As long as he's present and fresh in her mind, there's nothing I can say or do to persuade Nikita away from him. At least not right now. Give me some time to work on her, and I can make her forget. But right now Michael's too much of a distraction."

"So you're asking me to remove Michael from Section?"

"No," Phoenix replied, opening the profile he held in his hand. "I'm telling you to make a few changes in the mission profile to allow me some time alone with Nikita."

Operations paused, then smiled. "I like the way you think, Phoenix."

Briefing Room
01/10 14:00 hours

Operations stared at the operatives present from his place at the head of the briefing table. He noticed how Nikita glanced at Michael, a slight nervousness and uncertainty in her wide blue eyes. Michael, as cool as the proverbial cucumber, did his best to appear disinterested.

Operations scanned over the material he had prepared and quickly handed it to Madeline.

"Go ahead," he said, indicating it was time for the meeting to start.

Madeline took her place at the opposite end of the table, and cleared her throat importantly.

The operatives seated around the table obediently shifted their attention.

"We have gained important information on Helix, and are preparing another attack. However, our Intel is still incomplete, and before we can assure that all of their substructures have been destroyed, we need to extract a member of their personnel." She paused, then picked up the folder containing the profile that Operations had given her. "I assume everyone has read over the profile?"

The operatives each nodded that they had.

Madeline smiled satisfactorily and dimmed the lights. The holographic screen that spanned the middle of the table immediately lit, and an image of a gray-haired gentleman appeared in front of the attentive operatives.

"The man you see before you is Jorgen Ozchakovska, former Helix leader. During the time he was directing Helix, he operated out of somewhere in Austria, or so we believe. We also believe he is presently affiliated with Helix in some capacity, although his relation is uncertain at this time. Mr. Ozchakovska is living in Switzerland now, in a private chateau somewhere in the Alps. The location is currently undisclosed, however we will remedy that setback shortly. The prime objective of this mission is to bring him in so that we can pinpoint all of the base locations we are currently unaware of."

Madeline turned to look at Michael. "Michael will be running point from the Swiss Alps, securing location on Mr. Ozchakovska's chateau. Ultimately he will be the one to bring Ozchakovska in." Her gaze shifted to Nikita, and then to Phoenix. "Nikita and Adam will be working from the inside, as associates of the Ozchakovska's wife, Elena, who is a professor at the Swiss University. They will be posing as a young married couple, both accomplished professors and newly employed by the University. We are working under the assumption that Elena will befriend the young couple… and hopefully give away enough information that we will be able to easily locate her husband."

She looked around at the operatives, gauging their reactions. "Are there any questions?"

No one responded. Madeline looked at Operations briefly awaiting his input. When he said nothing, she turned back to the group and with a wave of her hand announced, "You are dismissed."

Transport
01/10 17:53 hours

Nikita stood at the departure gate six hours later, dressed in mission uniform, her stomach doing flip-flops. She had a strange sense of foreboding pressing down on her that she couldn't quite shake. She hugged her Teflon jacket closer to her body and gazed down the corridor, which was lined with operatives like herself awaiting the transport van.

Michael was nowhere to be seen. Nikita wondered if he had already been transported from Section without her knowing. It was very possible, considering she hadn't seen him at all since the briefing.

She tucked her chin down into the collar of her jacket, feeling very much alone. There was something odd about this mission. It was the first where she had been paired with an operative other than Michael in a domestic situation. She barely knew Adam Phoenix... she wondered how she would ever be able to believably pull off acting the part of his wife.

"Hi."

Nikita recognized the voice immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was look at him, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and return his greeting. "Hello, Adam."

There was a long, awkward silence between them. "Look, I know you have something going on with Michael, and I can bet this profile is a little uncomfortable for you. You barely know me..." his voice was low and personal, but reassuring. "...but the profile has already been set, and at this point circumstances are beyond our control. It's obviously important to the mission that we are convincing in our roles, so we should probably take the opportunity to get to know each other a little better, wouldn't you say?"

Nikita smiled a little shyly as she nodded her agreement. "I'll start off telling you a little bit about myself, then. I was born, illegitimately, I presume, to a mother that did not want me. I was abandoned on the streets before I knew how to walk. I went from foster home to foster home until my eighteenth birthday, when I was turned back out onto the streets." She looked at Phoenix steadily, without flinching. "I was miserable and poor, but I was a decent person. I never hurt anyone. I never stole from anyone. I did what was needed to survive, but I minded my own business. Until Section brought me in."

Phoenix listened intently, wondering why she had chosen to tell him this. "What did you do to get here?"

"I was convicted of a crime I didn't commit. Someone killed a cop. I stumbled on the body just after the murder occurred, as the police were arriving on the scene. They naturally assumed a dirty, homeless woman was a likely candidate for murder and threw me in jail. Section faked my death in prison and brought me here. End of story." Nikita's eyes were flat as she relayed the information. "Your turn."

"What do you want to know?"

Nikita shrugged. "Whatever you want to tell me."

"I'm really not your typical pedestrian-turned-operative," Phoenix confessed. "I grew up in a wealthy, high-profile family. Unfortunately, my family's money was tainted. I had no idea what my father's real business was until I was a grown man and could figure it out for myself. I just bought whatever stories he fed me."

"And your family's business was...?"

"Arms deals. Smuggling. My father dealt with several terrorist groups in various parts of Europe and the Middle East. Section contacted me and enlisted my help. Of course, they weren't as cordial as I make it sound," Phoenix laughed, "It was more of a help-us-and-live, or face-torture-and-death situation. After I helped them, I just stayed within the system. I had been exposed to too much information for them to let me go. I've worked with three different Sections, just like this one. And they're all pretty much the same." He turned to Nikita and smiled. "Of course, Section One is the most active of the three I've dealt with. The others dealt mostly with Comms and Intel. They extract a lot of the information Operations uses on your profiles. Not a lot of ColdOps, and no real missions. They all pretty much remain within their Section. Kind of a dreary existence, if you ask me."

Nikita listened wide-eyed to his story. She had known of other Sections, but had never considered their purpose. It was like a whole new world opening up before her.

"So what kind of things did you enjoy doing before you were 'recruited'?" Nikita asked lightly, smiling with just a hint of flirtatiousness.

"Actually, I was a Stock Broker. I know, I know. But you'd be amazed at the parallels you can draw between Wall Street and Section One. I felt right at home once I got here... your Operations reminds me of some lawyers I once knew."

Nikita giggled, relaxing into his sense of humor. Phoenix seemed so cordial, so easy to get along with. Perhaps this mission wouldn't be as bad as she'd first thought it to be...

"Ready for loading," a Tech announced, stepping into the departure area, his shirt slightly tarnished with oil that had spilt during his mechanical endeavors.

Nikita picked up her bags and started to swing one over her shoulder when Phoenix took it from her hands. "I can carry that," Nikita insisted.

"I know you can. Could you just let me be a gentleman, please??" Phoenix teased lightly as he took another bag from her hands.

"But how will you carry yours?"

"I'll manage," Phoenix assured her, slinging Nikita's duffel bag over his broad shoulders and balancing her suitcase in his left hand as he leaned over to pick up his own suitcase in his right hand. He straightened up and offered her an elbow. "Shall we go, then?"

Nikita glanced up into his striking features to see him beaming down at her as they walked out of Section arm-in-arm.

The ‘Steine Home’
01/14 06:19 hours

"Good morning, darling..." Phoenix greeted Nikita with a warm kiss as she rinsed her coffee cup in the kitchen sink. It was the third morning since they'd moved into their "new house".

Things were comfortable enough... although sleeping arrangements the last few nights had been a little awkward, Nikita reflected, Of course, Phoenix had been the perfect gentleman.

"Good morning, yourself," Nikita responded, trying to sound as affectionate as possible.

Phoenix leaned his head in close to hers and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Any chance that we're being watched?"

"I don't think so. Helix should have no idea we're even here." Nikita whispered back. "They would have brought us in already if they suspected anything."

"I meant Section..." Phoenix whispered, moving back slightly to look into Nikita's beautiful eyes. Nikita felt a shiver go through her, and she was suddenly very aware of his nearness.

"Well, Mrs. Steine, we'd best be getting to work." Phoenix said jauntily, raising his voice back to conversational level as he straightened up.

Nikita stood for a moment, reeling. "Hold on a minute while I grab my briefcase," She said, quickly regaining her composure and turning to run back towards the master bedroom. The house was still in general disarray from "the move". She took a quick survey of her appearance in the bathroom mirror... her hair pulled back smartly in a chignon, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose... she very much looked the part of a college professor. She smoothed the lines of her linen suit and picked her briefcase up from the foot of the bed.

"Ready," she said, smiling satisfactorily as she turned towards the front door where Phoenix was waiting.

The couple started down the steps leading to their driveway, where their Volvo was waiting. Phoenix opened the passenger-side door for Nikita to climb in, then walked around the back to the driver's side and got in himself.

"Do you have your ear com?" Nikita asked, once he was seated.

"Roger that," Phoenix replied, a hint of sarcasm playing in his voice as he produced the mini com-set.

"Good." Nikita let out a slow breath, trying to calm some of her nervousness. This whole mission had her on pins and needles, and she still wasn't quite sure why.

She gazed out her window at the passing scenery. "It is beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Nikita, have I done something to make you feel uncomfortable these past few days?" Phoenix asked, sensing her apprehension.

Nikita paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, then smiled softly. "No, Adam. You've been the perfect gentleman, really. It's just me. I just haven't been myself lately..." Nikita tried her best to reassure him, but felt her heart sinking inside. She knew she hadn't been herself... Michael hadn't been himself, either. And there was something just not right about Section.

Everything was all wrong. She reflected back on the news she'd received just days earlier about her pending re-location. She had hoped it would be a green light for her and Michael to spend more time together, since he would inevitably be moving as well. It seemed just the opposite was happening.

"You're going to try a little harder if you're going to convince me," Phoenix chided gently. "I know I'm not your first choice for a partner in this mission, but you're going to have to work with me a little here. I can't carry off this married business by myself."

"I know, Adam. I'm sorry..." Nikita looked at him apologetically. "I will try harder." She assured him.

Swiss University
01/14 07:00 hours

Phoenix guided their car into the parking lot of the Swiss University and helped Nikita out. They walked together towards the President's office.

"Professors Adam and Nancy Steine," Phoenix announced to the receptionist as they entered the President's office. The receptionist checked the President's appointments and nodded towards a row of chairs lining the foyer.

"President Meigs will be right with you."

They didn't have to wait long. Only moments later were they greeted by an older man in a suit.

"Professors Steine, I presume? I hear you're to join our Biological Science faculty, Adam." Pres. Meigs said, cordially clapping Phoenix on the back. "And you, Nancy, Swiss University is privileged to have you on in our Literature Department."

"Thank you," Nikita said graciously.

"Come, I'll show you to your offices."

************ "You must be Professor Steine."

It took Nikita a moment to register that the women standing next to her in the teachers' lounge was speaking to her. She still wasn't accustomed to answering to the name of "Nancy Steine".

"Yes," Nikita replied quickly, extending her hand to the woman in greeting. "And you are.... ?"

"Elena Ozchakovska. Literature Department."

"Then we are colleagues!" Nikita smiled appreciatively, recognizing the woman at once. She looked even more striking in person, around Nikita's age with straight black hair and pale gray eyes. It certainly had taken less time than she'd anticipated meeting Jorgen's wife.

"It's nice to meet you... I'm familiar with many of your dissertations, and I respect your work." Elena complimented, a little stiffly.

"Th...Thank you..." Nikita managed to stutter, caught off guard, much to her dismay. Madeline had certainly been thorough in giving Nikita's background credibility. "I'm not altogether unfamiliar with your work, either." Nikita said, returning the compliment.

"I've heard your husband is also working here?"

Nikita nodded. "Yes, Adam is a Professor of Biology."

Elena nodded. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Professor."

"Please, call me N.. Nancy," Nikita said, nearly bumbling her alias.

"Alright then, Nancy." Elena smiled, a cold smile that failed to light up her eyes. For a moment she reminded Nikita of Madeline. She strode quickly from the room.

Nikita let out her breath, feeling like she'd just gone eight rounds in a boxing match.

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

"How was your first day of school?" Phoenix asked with a twinkle in his eye as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"I met Ozchakovska's wife." Nikita blurted out.

"How did it go?"

"She's a hard one to warm up to. But it went all right."

"Good, I'm glad."

There was a long pause. Nikita could feel Phoenix's gaze resting heavily upon her.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Yes, the first day we met." Nikita smiled, a little self-consciously. She'd been trying very hard to resist Phoenix's charms. She realized suddenly that she would inevitably weaken and give in... it was just a matter of time...

Phoenix chuckled. "I did, didn't I?"

Nikita smiled appreciatively. "I figured you were just trying to be charming."

Phoenix turned his attention back to her for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I was just being truthful."

"Truth. I thought there was no one left in Section that knew the meaning of the word." Nikita muttered gloomily.

Phoenix reached over, took Nikita's hand in his and pressed her fingertips to his lips. "What do you say we go out on the town tonight... a little dinner, a little dancing... ?"

Nikita smiled and nodded in agreement. "That sounds nice."

Winder Night Club
01/14 21:37 hours

"Here we are, Mademoiselle" Phoenix crooned in a cheesy French accent, pulling up in front of a posh downtown restaurant. He stepped from the car, handing the keys to the valet, while the doorman helped Nikita out from the other side.

Phoenix hurried to Nikita's side on the sidewalk where she was waiting for him. Tucking her arm under his, they walked together into the restaurant.

The atmosphere was marvelous, Nikita reflected as the two were ushered into the dining area and seated. The lighting was dim and romantic, the tables nestled snuggly together. Phoenix looked especially handsome in his tuxedo, and Nikita couldn't help but gawk at him from time to time. She felt sensational in her Vera Wang evening gown, and the evening seemed magical.

"Care for some champagne?" Phoenix asked, popping the cork of the bottle that was waiting for them at their table. Nikita held out her glass eagerly. She dipped her fingers in the pale rosy-peach liquid and dabbed a little behind her ears extravagantly before taking a sip.

"You look beautiful tonight." Phoenix smiled, taking her hand across the table.

"That's the second time you've said that tonight," Nikita teased, gently withdrawing her hand. She wanted to stay on guard, but could feel her defenses quickly falling around her.

"I'd say it again if I thought it would help my chances..." Phoenix grinned, taking a sip of his own champagne. "But I do mean it."

"You look quite dashing yourself," Nikita smiled coyly, returning the compliment.

"Why thank you, mon cherie." Phoenix winked, resuming his goofy accent. The waiter stepped to their table and asked for their orders. As the evening wore on, Nikita drank the champagne more freely, and began to loosen up considerably. After dinner, she suggested they head to a nearby dance club.

The neon lights reflected off the smoke-filled air as Nikita and Phoenix entered the club. Music reverberated through the large, crowded room.

Nikita smiled a little nervously as she ducked past the bouncers flanking the doorway and sauntered out onto the dance floor.

"I LOVE this song!" She shouted above the din and noise, moving her body in time to the music. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting the rhythm move her.

Phoenix joined her shortly after checking both their coats at the door. "You're a wonderful dancer," he said, leaning his head close to hers.

Nikita opened her eyes a slit and peered at him through her lashes. "My, aren't you full of compliments tonight!" she laughed. She took his hand and led him further onto the floor. As the music slowed to a more mellow pace, Nikita slipped her arms around Phoenix's neck and drew him closer. With his hands on her hips, the two moved slowly in time to the music. "You're not such a bad dancer yourself," she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. She could feel her wall crumbling... **I could very well end up in this man's bed tonight, if I'm not careful** she thought to herself. Oddly enough, she didn't much care.

"What are you thinking?" Phoenix murmured, his face in her hair.

"I'm thinking that tonight has been wonderful." Nikita replied softly. "Thank you." She opened her eyes and watched the room move around her, dream-like. Time seemed suspended, somehow, and the rest of the world didn't exist. She smiled contentedly.

Just as she became completely immersed in her thoughts, Nikita caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. Jarred out of her reverie, she abruptly lifted her head and did a double take to where the figure had been seated. Only an empty chair at a vacant table. Her eyes scanned the throngs of people crowding the dance floor frantically.

"What's wrong?" Phoenix asked, sensing her urgency.

"Nothing," Nikita smiled demurely. "Would you excuse me for just a moment? I'll be right back."

With that, Nikita slipped from Phoenix's arms and headed towards the back of the room, towards the restrooms, phone booths, and card-rooms. She ducked around a corner to appear as if she'd gone into the women's restroom in case Phoenix was still watching her, then quickly slipped down a hallway towards the card rooms.

She peeked in the doorways of the smoke-filled rooms where men in expensive tailored suits smoked cigars and gambled their savings. First, second, third room... nothing. Nikita turned towards another hall when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and the strong arms of her unseen opponent pull her from the corridor. Her eyes darted in panic as the darkness of the cloak closet enfolded her...

Nikita's arms flailed helplessly as she tried to strike her abductor. The more she struggled, the tighter the arms held her. She kicked at her unseen attacker's legs to no avail. Should I scream? She thought frantically. Would anyone even hear me out there? She opened her mouth as best she could against the hand clamping down over her lips and tried to scream. What came out was a weak, muffled gurgle.

"Sssh. Ni-ki-ta."

Nikita's movements were instantly stilled. She went limp, and the arms released her. She spun around in disbelief.

"Michael. It was you, after all..." She bit her lip and resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. Although it had only been a matter of days they'd been apart, it suddenly seemed an eternity. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you." Michael distanced himself from her, his eyes averted. "I've been waiting all evening for the right opportunity..." he lifted his eyes and Nikita could feel his heavy sadness in them.

"Michael, what's wrong?" Nikita asked, praying that this time he would answer her and not turn away.

"Nikita, after this mission you are not returning to Section."

A look of shock passed over Nikita's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you will be directly transferred from here when your mission is completed. We will never see each other again."

Nikita was speechless. "I thought... Aren't you... ? Michael, what are you saying?"

Michael said nothing. It was answer enough for Nikita. She thought Section had tested her with everything. She thought she was strong. But what she did next surprised even herself.

"I can't... Michael, I can't..." She reached for him, her fingers digging into the wool sleeves of his coat as she fought with what to say, how to describe the emotions exploding inside herself. She clung to him fiercely, her cheek pressed to the coarse fabric of his lapel as her jaw hung slack and her eyes welled with tears.

Michael stood motionless for a moment, fighting his emotions. Then, ever so slowly, he lifted a hand to gently stroke Nikita's hair. "I had to tell you... I couldn't leave you without... Knowing I would never see you again... Without telling you..." Michael floundered with the right words, beginning a thought and quickly abandoning it in search of what his heart was trying to tell her. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. "You will be fine. We will both be fine."

Nikita shook her head, her eyes now overflowing. "Don't say that."

"You will go on. Alone."

Nikita pushed away from him furiously. The feelings she'd struggled to keep in check for so long now spilled from her lips freely. "Don't tell me what I'm capable of." she said, her voice a fierce whisper. "I don't want to hear that I'll be strong. You've strung me along with promises, kept my dreams in suspense all these years, and for what? You were the reason I came back. You were the reason I stayed. I did it all for you. I wanted us to be safe. You're my freedom, Michael. You." Her emotions came out all at once, as she shook with the effort to control the volume of her voice.

Michael looked away, unable to bear her suffering. Nikita retreated to the far corner of the cloakroom, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-consoling gesture. "What else, Michael?"

"What do you mean?"

"What else are you not telling me?" Nikita looked at him, her eyes bright with tears in the semi-darkness. "What are you hiding? What else is there to know about the reason for these changes?"

Michael hesitated a moment, contemplated whether he should tell her any more. "I don't know anything else," he finally concluded.

"Yes you do! Damn it! You do!" Nikita straightened herself up angrily, an indignant look overtaking her features. "You know exactly what I mean, and you're going to tell me what it is, right now."

Silence.

"Is it Operations? Does this have something to do with him?"

More Silence. Nikita suddenly broke out, "This is another one of their schemes to manipulate us, Michael. How can you let them? How can you be privy to such classified information and yet you can't see through to their motives?" Her shoulders slackened as the weight of his betrayal settled on her. "How long have you known?"

"Five days."

"You could have given me time to say goodbye." She fought back tears, angrily brushing away those that had already spilt onto her cheeks. "I am such a fool." As she turned to leave the closet, Michael caught her arm.

"Nikita."

She stopped, slowly turning her body in his direction, but her eyes never on his face. She watched him from the corner of her eye, willing him to let her go with her pride in tact. Michael released her arm.

"I love you." His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes searching for hers in the darkness.

Nikita paused for a moment, wanting to lose herself in those words, but knowing she would never be granted the chance. "Not enough." She said quietly, never once looking directly at him. She turned away, then slipped from the room without looking back.

Nikita somehow managed to find her way back to the dance-floor and to the table where Phoenix was waiting, despite her numbed state as she moved aimlessly through the throngs of dancers.

"Everything OK?" Phoenix asked, noting the sudden pallor that had drained Nikita's cheeks of their color.

"I'm not feeling well." Nikita admitted, steadying herself as she clung to the edge of the table for support. Phoenix instantly rose to his feet and aided her effort by bracing her with his arm. "Maybe it was something I ate..." Nikita offered lamely.

"Let's get you home." Phoenix said, wrapping Nikita's coat around her shoulders and draping an arm around her waist as he guided her through the crowded room towards the door.

The night air greeted them in an icy blast, stinging their cheeks and biting their lips as they stepped onto the sidewalk outside the club.

The ‘Steine Home’
01/14 23:11 hours

Somehow, Nikita managed to get into their car and safely back to their house without losing her composure. As she dressed for bed, her mind deadened with pain, she mechanically did up the buttons of her nightshirt and crawled between the covers.

Moments later, Phoenix emerged from the next room and turned out the light before crawling into the opposite side of the bed. Nikita listened to his rhythmic breathing, the sound of another human being so near to her only intensifying the loneliness she felt inside.

"Adam?" She whispered several moments later.

"Hmmm?" Phoenix responded, a bit groggily.

"Have you ever been in love?"

There was a moment of silence. She had evidently caught him off-guard with this question. "Once." He finally answered.

"Before Section?"

"No. She was a Section Operative. We both were."

"What happened?"

"She was headstrong, disobedient, and careless. She got herself killed on a mission."

"Did you blame Section?"

"It wasn't a deliberate cancellation, if that's what you're asking. Her death was not part of the profile. There was supposed to be a zero body count. She failed to follow orders properly. It was her own fault." His voice, while not hard or emotionless, had a matter-of-fact tone to it.

"Oh." Nikita fell silent. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one elbow so she could see him better. She watched his silhouette in the darkness for several minutes before she spoke again: "I had a good time tonight. I'm sorry I had to ruin it."

Phoenix turned on his back, tucking his hands behind his head and breathing deeply. "So did I."

She could feel his smile, even without seeing it. She tried to picture his face... tried to block Michael from her mind... Michael's eyes.... Michael's face. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Phoenix. Just Adam Phoenix.

She opened her eyes, aware of the silence hanging in the air between them as they were both lost in their own thoughts. "What are you thinking right now?" Nikita queried in an awkward attempt to break from her solitude.

"I'm thinking of your face..." Phoenix admitted unabashedly. "...How soft your skin must feel... How much I would like to kiss you..."

Instinctively, Nikita reached out, seeking comfort... needing companionship... searching for strength...

Phoenix moved across the remaining distance between them, wrapping his arms around Nikita's waist and shoulders as he sought her lips in the darkness. Nikita's fingers curled in his hair as she crushed his mouth with hers in desperate urgency. His hands slid up the smooth skin of her back underneath her nightshirt as she pressed her body nearer to him, their frames becoming and entanglement of limbs. His lips sought her face, her neck...Then, abruptly, he pulled away from her.

Puzzled, Nikita began "What's wrong--"

"Sssh..." Phoenix cut in. "I think I heard something."

Phoenix rose from the bed, securing the handgun he'd laid on the nightstand next to him.

Nikita sat up, listening carefully to the night around them before taking up her own gun and slipping out into the hallway after Phoenix. She cautiously crept along the hallway, her senses screaming from anxiety and exhaustion. She was a bundle of pent-up nerves, she realized.

**Adam had better not make any sudden moves or I'll probably blow his head off** Nikita mused to herself as she rounded the last corner before entering the kitchen. It was the last thought that passed through her mind before she heard a dull "thud" and felt herself plunging into unconsciousness...

HELIX Underground
01/15 03:13 hours

Nikita awoke to the sound of dripping water, her face and left side of her body damp from the cold, wet cement floor beneath her. She moaned in pain as she rolled to her back and opened her eyes to more blackness. There was absolutely no light; not even daylight peeked in to help her see in the darkness. She shivered involuntarily as she felt something furry rub against her leg. *RATS* the thought screamed through her. She tucked her feet in closer to her body and tried to block the fear from her mind as she felt another critter scurry across her foot.

"Adam?" she called out in the darkness. She could see nothing; not even dim outlines of who or what else might be in the room with her.

There was no answer, just the scurrying of dozens of tiny feet as her voice broke through the stillness. Nikita resisted the urge to scream, closing her eyes to shut out the horrible pictures her imagination was conjuring. The sound of grating metal somewhere not far away brought Nikita back to her surroundings. A door opened in front of her as a man stepped through it, training a flashlight on her eyes so she could not see him.

"Vut eez your name?" The man demanded, his voice thick with a Russian accent.

"Who are you?" Nikita challenged.

"Vut eez your name?" The man repeated, yanking Nikita off the floor by her hair and shining the flashlight directly in her face.

Nikita squinted against the sudden brightness. "Adolph Hitler." She replied, sarcastically.

The man shook her violently. "No games. I give you one more chance. Vut eez your name?"

"Yoko Ono."

The man threw her to the floor in disgust, kicking her in the ribs with his steel-toed boot. Nikita groaned as the wind rushed from her, feeling her ribs cracking from the impact.

"Who are you?" She gasped.

"Vhere are you from? Who you vhork for?"

"Mickey Mouse!" She cried out as he kicked her again.

He yanked her up by the hair once more and slapped her across the face full-force.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" She panted, gasping for air.

The man kicked her a third time for good measure, then left her writhing on the floor. "I vill return." He said ominously. "You vill cooperate."

The door shut behind him, leaving Nikita in darkness once more. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her injured ribcage for comfort, doing her best not to move. *Block out the pain* she ordered herself.

She had to look for something to defend herself with. She could not let him take her by surprise on his next visit. She needed to have the upper hand if she was going to survive. She crawled along the surface of the floor, her hands searching the cold, damp cement for any object she might use in her defense. Nothing.

>From tactile exploration, she judged the room to be no bigger than ten or eleven square feet, at most. She was in a small cell, really. The door was set in the wall and sealed so tightly shut that not even light escaped through the crevices. She propped herself up against the nearest wall, wheezing in pain. She felt her clothing... still her pajamas. She fumbled with the drawstring of her pajama bottoms suddenly struck with inspiration. She ripped the fabric and slowly removed the cord holding them up. She crept to the side of the door, flattening herself against the wall, and waited.

It seemed like hours passed before she heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Her body tensed as they grew nearer, finally stopping outside her cell. The man had returned alone. Nikita took a deep breath, ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through her.

She heard his key jingle in the lock, and the door swung open. Before his flashlight even focused on the place where she had been lying before, Nikita had sprung into action, jumping behind her jailer and stretching the piece of cord around the man's neck. She pulled it taut against his throat with two fists, holding him vise-like as she cut off his air supply and, bracing herself against the wall, pushed his body forward against the strain with her foot.

She thought he would never stop thrashing as she tightened her grasp on the cord and pulled harder and harder... until suddenly, he was still and Nikita knew he was dead. Wasting no time, she let his body fall to the ground and hastily slipped from her cell.

As she stepped out into the outside corridor, Nikita realized she was going to have more trouble than she had previously thought escaping. The hall stretched for as far as she could see in both directions. Nikita stood for a moment, debating which direction would take her above ground. Without further hesitation, she turned to her left and started down the hallway at a pace somewhere between a brisk walk and a slow jog.

She held a hand against her ribcage as she ran to keep the movement from jarring her broken ribs and inflicting further pain. She turned through a myriad of adjoining corridors before eventually coming to a dead-end. "Shit." She muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the hall wildly for another way out. Her eyes finally lit on a grate, just feet above her head. *Air vent* she concluded, then scaled the wall partway to kick out the grate and hoist herself into the air passage. She paused for a moment to determine which direction the air was moving, then started a slow crawl against the airflow.

The airshaft took a semi-steep incline, and Nikita knew she was heading in the right direction. Her fingers clawed the slick aluminum as she grappled for footing and pulled herself slowly through the vent. Suddenly, her head hit against another grate. She lifted it away with her hands and found herself in a boiler room, somewhere above the catacombs of the building. A door marked with a vivid "EXIT" sign to her right indicated she wasn't far from freedom. She lifted herself out of the vent and staggered towards the door.

Once outside, Nikita was met with the semi-darkness of dawn. Even in the dim light, her eyes struggled to adjust. There was a patch of trees not far now... She broke free of the building and loped towards them, praying that no one had seen her or detected her absence. She wanted as much of a head start as she could manage before they began looking for her. She dove into the underbrush, gasping for breath, struggling to collect herself before she tried to figure out exactly where she was.

Daylight would make her visibility high, and it would make mobility difficult. Judging from the light slowly spreading across the sky, Nikita guessed there was a maximum of ten, maybe fifteen minutes left before sunrise. She sat up and took note of her surroundings.

The building she'd left behind appeared to be an old, gray factory, pale and threatening against the frigid morning sky. *HELIX* was the only explanation Nikita could think of for her abduction. But how had they found out about her and Adam so quickly? They had not even really established contact with Elena, and in no way appeared suspicious... The only conclusion Nikita could draw was that there was a mole hiding somewhere in Section. *And Adam's still in there* Nikita shuddered, wondering if he was even still alive. She needed Back-Up in order to bring him out. She studied the building. Still no sign of activity. Her absence must have gone undetected. She crawled through the underbrush and realized she could hear cars not far away. She was near civilization.

Nikita ventured out onto the road and hitched a ride to the nearest phone booth. She dialed the number of her 'emergency contact'.

"Hello?" A sprightly woman's voice picked up on the other end.

"I've been compromised."

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

Forty-five minutes later, Nikita sat across the table at a truck-stop cafe from Section's undercover contact, Milla Johanson. She was a sweet-faced, middle-aged housewife with such a docile demeanor that no one watching would have suspected that she worked for a covert anti-terrorist organization.

Undercover contacts were in frequent contact with Section, but had limited involvement with Section's activities. They were given enough information and special help or favors to secure their loyalty, but kept in the dark enough to be safe living in the "real world". Section had such contacts in every corner of the globe, primed and ready for situations such as these where a back-up team might be unavailable to bring in an operative, and where placing an operative in mandatory refusal might jeopardize the mission profile.

Milla chatted animatedly with Nikita, sipping her tea. Her cheerful and carefree expression belied the fact that both women were watching carefully to make sure Nikita had not been followed by her captors. She glanced from time to time at the other customers in the restaurant, to keep track of her surroundings and remain alert to any suspicious characters.

"Why are we here?" Nikita asked wearily, wanting nothing more than a warm bed to snuggle into.

"We're waiting for further instructions."

Nikita glanced at the telephone, not more than two steps from their booth. If the phone rang, they'd be the first to get to it.

"Have you heard from Adam?" Nikita asked under her breath.

"No," Milla replied casually, removing her tea-bag from her steaming cup. "You were the first to call."

At that moment, the pay phone rang and Milla rose to answer it. Although the beginning of the conversation sounded like an everyday "wrong number" call on Milla's end, Nikita could tell she was speaking with someone in Section.

Nikita turned her tired eyes to the view just outside her window. She watched the cars passing by on the road outside, oblivious to the rest of Milla's conversation. *Gawd, I look awful* she thought to herself, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Despite the soap and water scrub-down and vigorous brushing, her hair was knotted and disheveled, her face bruised and swollen. Milla had helped her clean away the blood and dirt caking her skin when she first picked Nikita up, but the cuts and bruises remained.

"Are you feeling alright?" Milla asked in concern as she rejoined Nikita in their booth.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Nikita smiled wearily. "Are they bringing me back in?"

"No." Milla shook her head, looking casually around her to gauge if anyone was listening to their conversation. "They said they still have work for you to do here. You'll be staying with me tonight."

"Was that all?"

"They'll be sending a 'messenger' with further instructions."

"Have they found Adam yet?" Nikita asked anxiously.

"Still no word from him. Michael's team is cleaning out the facility tomorrow. They'll let us know if they find anything."

At the sound of Michael's name, Nikita cringed. Was it possible that it had been just yesterday he'd said goodbye to her forever? Could he actually believe that his life would go on for him as it usually did, even when she was no longer a part of it? Milla broke into her thoughts by standing to leave.

"Let's get moving."

Milla’s Apartment
01/16 08:21 hours

Nikita woke with a start the next morning as sunlight streamed through her bedroom window and lit across her face. She squinted in its brightness and had to think for a moment to remember where she was. Her body screamed with every movement; her ribs were unbelievably sore. As she rose to get out of bed, there was a knock at her door.

"Come in."

Milla swung the door open, a box in her hands. "This was just delivered."

Nikita gave her a puzzled look as Milla set the box on the bed. "Who's it from?"

Milla checked the tag. "There was no return address, only a word: *Messenger*. I'd say it's from Section."

Nikita nodded. It was their style. She pulled the flaps open. Inside were a laptop computer and some equipment Nikita recognized as being used for video-conferencing. She pulled the equipment free of the box and moved it to a small desk in the corner of the room. "Come help me set this up," she said, enlisting Milla's help.

Ten minutes later, the equipment finally connected properly, Nikita logged on. Milla left the room as Birkoff's face appeared on the screen. Birkoff was obviously shocked by Nikita's battered appearance. He'd heard of her abduction, but had no idea it had been so bad.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" He asked with a touch of concern.

"Better," Nikita said with a hint of a smile. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"It does seem like it's been a long time, doesn't it." Birkoff reflected.

"So what have you got for me?"

"You're supposed to report back to work tomorrow." Birkoff informed her.

"What?" Nikita asked in surprise. "Birkoff, they know who I am."

"Not Elena. We've been monitoring her activities from here and so far no one has informed her of your purpose. She's had no contact with Jorgen or any members of HELIX. She shouldn't be suspicious of you yet."

"Won't it look suspicious if I'm there and Adam's not?"

"You're not going to be working. You're there to bring Elena in. We're bypassing the Prologue and Chapters One through Ten and skipping to the last page. Oversight wants her extracted for questioning by noon tomorrow. There will be a van at the north lot to escort her to Section Four. There will be a second car for you shortly after."

"Section Four?" Nikita asked, catching the discrepancy Birkoff had tried to gloss over.

"Section One has been compromised. Oversight has transferred Mission-Command to Section Four until we're recovered."

"Birkoff, where are YOU?"

"Section Four. Some personnel are in other Sections, but Walter, Gayle and I are all here. And you'll be coming here. It's not so bad."

Nikita was shocked. So this was how they were transferring everyone. But what was to become of Michael? "What happened to make Oversight transfer everyone out like that?" Nikita asked, a growing sense of horror overtaking her.

"I'm not really allowed to say... Truth is, I don't know all of what happened. But it was terminal. Section's Mainframe has been completely obliterated. Section was in absolute chaos when we left."

Nikita stared at Birkoff in disbelief. "What about Operations and Madeline?"

"I don't know," Birkoff admitted. "I think they might still be there."

"Have you heard anything from Michael?"

"No, not yet. His team is set to infiltrate the base you discovered yesterday. I'll let you know when the report comes through."

"Thanks..." Nikita responded gratefully. "Um... Birkoff, do you think this has anything to do with your... discovery?"

Birkoff looked puzzled, but Nikita knew things would soon register. She wasn't safe to be saying anything more over a Section link.

"So, noon tomorrow?" She affirmed

"Correct." Birkoff replied. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, see you."

As Nikita shut off the videophone and closed down the screen, there was a knock at Milla's front door. Nikita quietly padded to the front room, where Milla sat in her chair, frozen in terror. Nikita motioned for Milla to open it as she lifted her shirt and pulled her handgun from the waistband of her pants.

Milla slowly moved from her chair as Nikita trained her gun on the front door. Milla quickly undid the bolts and yanked the door open as Nikita stood, primed for action.

"Adam!" Both women gasped in unison, as the badly beaten Operative stumbled into the room and collapsed on the floor.

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

Nikita paced outside the guestroom where she'd been staying as Milla checked over Phoenix's wounds. It was a good thing Milla was a registered nurse, or he would be in dire straights; under no circumstances were operatives to check into hospitals or other governmental agencies where files might be accessed or identification might be risked. She chewed on her thumbnail anxiously as she waited for Milla to emerge.

"How is he?" Nikita asked when Milla finally did step from the room.

"Sleeping. He's beaten pretty badly; several broken bones, and a slight concussion. He didn't remember much."

"Section will want to bring him in immediately for debriefing." Nikita assumed. "We should arrange for pick-up."

"Aren't they bringing you in tomorrow?"

"Yes, but that might be too late for Adam. They'll want any information he can give them now to help the mission, before Michael infiltrates the factory." Nikita thought for a moment, then started into the room.

"I'm contacting Birkoff."

Phoenix was lying on the bed, swathed in bandages. He slept fitfully, in obvious discomfort. Nikita crept to the laptop/video phone as quietly as she could, then logged on.

Birkoff's face appeared on the screen. He looked surprised to see Nikita back on-line. Surprised, and a bit uncomfortable. Nikita could see operatives in the background running around in a frenzy. It was obvious there was some commotion going on in Section Four.

"Birkoff, what's going on?"

"Um... Nothing..."

Nikita knew better, but didn't have time to coax.

"Adam's back."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he escaped."

Birkoff looked slightly baffled. "How? From where?"

"I assume from the same place I escaped from. I don't know for sure, though; he's suffering from some memory loss, and right now he's asleep."

"Just a minute..." Birkoff said, touching his EarCom. Someone was obviously dictating orders to him over his ComLink. "We'll bring him in tomorrow. With you."

"What?!" Nikita asked, baffled.

"Orders."

"And what do I do in the meantime?"

"See if you can get any more information from him."

"Ok.." Nikita said a little apprehensively. Everything was so chaotic. This wasn't normal Section procedure at all. "Any word on Michael yet?" Nikita asked as casually as possible, but a little too hopefully.

"No, not yet. I'll keep you posted."

"Right."

"Is that all?" Birkoff seemed anxious to get off. Nikita nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow." The screen went blank. Phoenix moaned from the bed.

"Where am I?"

Nikita turned and moved to him. "Sssh. You're safe now."

His eyes rolled back into his head, his eyelids fluttering as his body spasmed in pain.

"Milla!" She called urgently, knowing the woman could really do nothing for him. She was under strict orders not to administer any medication to Section Operatives; it could interfere with the debriefing process afterward.

Nikita only prayed the intense questioning he would undergo once he was back at Section Four wouldn't kill him.

Swiss University
01/17 07:46 hours

The sun was shining in the icy blue sky the next morning as Nikita stepped onto the campus of the Swiss University. She pulled her sunglasses closer to her face, hoping the bruises didn't show. The collar of her coat was pulled up around her chin, and her hair hung loosely around her face. With any luck no one would notice the damage.

She tapped her EarCom. "I'm in range. Where do I go from here?"

Birkoff's voice buzzed back, "Every morning she takes her coffee and a book and sits on a bench near the statue in the middle of the commons."

Nikita turned towards the statue Birkoff had indicated. As she neared the monument, she could see Elena hunched over a book. "I see her." As Nikita approached the woman, she sensed something was inexplicably wrong.

Elena was not merely hunched over, but slumped in her seat. Her eyes did not focus on her book, but stared blankly at her feet, glassy and empty. Nikita lifted the woman's chin and discovered a bullet-hole at the base of her neck.

"She's been cancelled, Birkoff."

Birkoff's voice crackled a few choice expletives as gunshots rang out and ricocheted off the statue to Nikita's left.

"Gunshots, Birkoff. I've been compromised."

Nikita ducked, making her way around the statue for cover as she pulled her gun from the satchel slung over her shoulder. Students of the University screamed in panic and rushed in all directions. "What now?" Nikita hissed.

"Distract the sniper's attention, then head for the north lot. There will be a car waiting for you there."

Nikita shot off a few rounds, purposely aiming too high so she wouldn't hit panicked students, and ran through the side alleys of the buildings towards the north lot. Footsteps ensued just behind her, and she knew the sniper was on her trail.

She picked up her pace, her lungs heaving against her injured ribcage with every grating breath. She heard her pursuer round another corner, and gunshots whizzed past her head.

Nikita scrambled through a patch of bushes and launched out into the north parking lot, right in front of a Section car.

The driver screeched to a halt and opened the door. Nikita dove inside. The car pulled away just as the sniper entered the parking lot, firing a couple of rounds at the car in a desperate attempt to stop Nikita from leaving. The bullets ricocheted off the car's armored exterior as it drove away with Nikita safely inside.

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

Nikita stormed into Section Four, directly to Comms, and set her gun on Birkoff's desk. "So what now?" Birkoff looked blankly at her.

"What happens now? Elena's dead. What's the next step? I want to take this guy down."

Birkoff didn't answer. He wasn't sure what to answer.

"Does Michael even have a clue as to where Jorgen is?"

Birkoff shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

"What?" Nikita pressed.

"I don't know how to tell you this..."

"Birkoff, just tell me." Nikita snapped impatiently.

Birkoff hesitated for a minute longer. "Michael is dead."

The world came to a screeching halt. "What?" Nikita asked in disbelief.

"We just got the report minutes before you got here. They set explosives to clean out the base you discovered. He was trapped inside when the bomb went off. All other operatives have been recovered... except him. They all agree there was no way he could have made it out alive."

"No." Nikita said, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples. "No more." She turned, numb, and walked away.

Not meaning to be insensitive, but feeling he should fulfill his duty, Birkoff called after her: "You need to report to Programs for debriefing!"

Programs’ Perch—Section Four
01/18 15:28 hours

Nikita didn't know how her world would ever go on turning when Michael was no longer in it, but somehow it did. She met with Programs, Section Four's equivalent of Section One's Operations, and filed her report. Programs was a prematurely silver-haired wiry woman with a dignified face and an aristocratic air.

While she didn't wield as much power overall as Operations, she did have impressive authority. She seemed less contriving than Operations and Madeline, and she obviously worked alone. Nikita almost liked this woman... Almost.

The debriefing was relatively quick and painless. Section Four was still reeling from the news of defeat and of Michael's death. While not many operatives knew Michael personally, his reputation was widely established and nearly legendary. It was a great loss to the organization, as a whole.

After asking all of the standard mission-oriented questions, Programs asked tritely, "I hear you were a friend of Michael's?"

Nikita nodded sullenly, praying that the woman would not pry any further than that.

"I'm sorry." Programs said. For a moment Nikita thought she might say more, but she didn't.

There was a long pause as the women studied each other. "I've heard good things about you, Nikita. Your file shows great progress in the Organization. I'm counting on your continued progress here as well."

Nikita said nothing, just nodded. She felt as if she were standing at the bottom of an empty chasm, as Programs' voice floated down to her.

"That's why I'm sending you on another mission."

Nikita looked at her with a start. "What do you mean?"

"This mission is far from over. We still need to bring Ozchakovska in. I'm counting on you to do that."

"Now?"

"No, not now. But very soon-- When the time is right. Birkoff is reviewing the Intel as we speak. I estimate we'll have enough information to plot our next move in about forty-eight hours. I suggest you rest and heal up until then."

From the tone of her voice, Nikita knew the meeting was adjourned. She rose from her seat. "Have you heard anything from Operations?"

Programs' face twisted into a guarded smile. "He's doing fine."

"The mainframe is mended?"

Programs stiffened slightly. "I haven't heard. You are free to go now."

Nikita nodded, took her cue, and left.

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

Twenty-four hours later, as Nikita lie resting in her temporary room, Birkoff knocked at her door.

"Programs asked me to give this to you." Birkoff said, handing Nikita a disc. "It's the Sims and profiles for the next mission. She wants you to review it before the briefing in eighteen hours."

"Eighteen hours?!?" Nikita responded incredulously.

"Departure has been moved up. The situation is at red-alert status. Things are more serious than we thought, and we have the perfect opportunity to make our move. Look over the information. You'll see what I'm taking about."

Nikita nodded and took the disc from Birkoff. "Thanks."

Birkoff turned to go, but stopped and turned as a second thought. "Nikita, I am sorry... About Michael."

Nikita nodded, swallowing over the lump in her throat. "Well, let's not think about it, OK? Let's just focus on getting the job done for now."

"Yeah, Sure." Birkoff said.

"How is Adam?" she asked, trying her best to change the subject.

"Resting up in MedLab for now. They estimate he'll be at full-mission status within the week. A few broken bones, some minor injuries but no real internal damage."

"Good." Nikita said, unsure of what to say next.

Birkoff stood there awkwardly for a moment, then with one last apologetic look, took his cue and left.

Nikita sighed, stretched, and forced herself not to think about the emptiness in her soul, in her heart. There were more pressing matters at hand... like finding out what was on the disc Birkoff had just given her. She walked over to her computer, slipped the disc into her hard drive and opened the file.

"Ah..." Nikita nodded to herself, scanning the information quickly. It appeared that Mario Zirrelli, a multi-millionaire and friend of Jorgen Ozchakovska was having a banquet in honor of his daughter, Hannah's engagement. Jorgen happened to be the godfather of this young woman, and was sure to be in attendance.

Nikita wondered how in the world Birkoff had managed to unearth this information; Jorgen probably had a hundred aliases. If he was as good at blending in as he seemed to be, Nikita wondered how on earth they were ever fortunate enough to stumble on this kind of a lead.

Birkoff had arranged for Nikita to attend the banquet, with an escort provided by Section, as a guest of the Zirrelli family. They had invited so many people it would be impossible for them to know all of their guests well enough to identify them by sight. Nikita would be safely disguised amongst the hundreds of acquaintances mobbing the Zirrelli mansion the following evening.

Nikita reflected on how normally, she and Michael would have handled something like this together. They would have pulled it off beautifully. They always did. She realized she was becoming misty-eyed, and viciously fought back the tears. Regaining her composure, she determinedly plunged back into the file to learn all she could about the Zirrelli family and the mission ahead.

Zirrelli Mansion
01/20 21:43 hours

The ballroom was a crowded maze as Nikita entered the party at the Zirrelli mansion the next evening. Men and women adorned in fancy gowns and tuxedos milled around the main floor, chatting with total strangers and old acquaintances. In her back-less Halston, Nikita fit right in. She leaned on the arm of her escort, moving her hand to her ear as if to fix an earring as she pressed her EarCom.

"Birkoff, we're in."

"Good. Do you see Ozchakovska?"

"Negative."

"Keep looking."

Nikita and escort moved further into the room, mingling with guests and making small talk as a thirty-piece orchestra played somewhere in the background. As the evening wore on, guests began to dance and eat merrily, and still no sign of Jorgen. Nikita was beginning to wonder if he would ever make an appearance.

"Still no sign of him." Nikita informed Birkoff.

On the other end of the connection, Birkoff sighed impatiently. "He's got to be there, somewhere!"

Nikita decided to take the bull by the horns and headed towards the table where Mario and Hannah Zirrelli were seated in order to make introductions.

"Hello, Sir Zirrelli, Hannah..." Nikita greeted demurely as Mario rose from his seat in gentlemanly fashion. He took her hand and bowed graciously. Hannah, a rosy-cheeked girl of eighteen smiled at her sweetly.

"My name is N...Nadia Greikov." Nikita's smile faltered for a moment as she struggled to remember her alias, but the blunder went undetected. "I just wanted to say 'thank you' for your invitation, and congratulations."

"A flower such as yourself is welcome in our house any time," Mario smiled, graciously.

"Thank you." Nikita said, curtseying slightly. "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to introduce me to Hannah's godfather. I heard he was in attendance this evening and believe he is an old friend of my father's..."

"Ah, Ms. Greikov. He was unable to attend this event. There were unexpected circumstances."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Nikita prompted.

"I shall tell him you send your father's well wishes." Mario replied.

"Thank you," Nikita curtseyed once more, "I'm sorry for bothering you this evening. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"No bother at all." Mario assured her. "And the pleasure was all mine."

Nikita graciously excused herself and fled the scene. She tapped her EarCom bewilderedly.

"Birkoff he's not here."

"Yeah, I heard."

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. I'm calling you back into Section."

Nikita found her wrap, her escort, and prepared to leave.

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

Birkoff was waiting for her as she stepped off Transport. "I need to see you in private. Right away." he whispered under his breath. "Meet me in A deck, 3rd room on the left."

Nikita nodded, and after quick debrief, headed for the designated room. Birkoff quickly secured an interruption device, and launched into what he had to say.

"We have cover for five, maybe ten minutes at most, so this has got to be brief." He took a deep breath, then began: "This all started way before the mission when I was running some Sims for Michael and found some defective clusters. At first I thought it was an intrusion. The breakdown in Section One's mainframe seemed to validate my theory. But I've been looking into the mainframe here, and the same clusters are contaminated. It's taken me almost a week to sort through them, but I found this..." Birkoff whipped out a spreadsheet with logistics and information Nikita didn't understand.

"The only similarities between these clusters is that they're all related to this mission. All of the other clusters are fine."

"What are you saying, Birkoff?"

"I'm saying that someone purposefully sabotaged this mission. Someone who knew what they were doing, because no one besides me would ever have been able to figure this out."

Nikita excused his boyish arrogance and asked, "Was it someone in Section?"

"It would have had to have been. No one else would have been able to cover up their tracks like this. And with the way everyone's responding, I'd say the Higher-Ups are part of it. Programs has ordered us to drop the mission. She says Section Three has brought Jorgen in, and that's the end of it. But I accessed Section Three's files, and their reports say that we brought him in. Of course, no one would expect anyone here to crosscheck files from other Sections. Most operatives wouldn't have the knowledge to do it. They would just assume they were telling the truth. I probably would have, except that my suspicions were already worked up to begin with."

Nikita's mind was reeling from the information Birkoff was relaying. Things were beginning to fall into place; the undetected middle-of-the-night abduction, her relatively easy escape from the so-called HELIX base, the already-murdered Elena encounter...

"So then, if this WAS a wild goose chase, tell me why they're wasting our time and effort on it? What is this all for?"

Birkoff shook his head. "I don't know."

Nikita’s Office—Section Four
02/18 06:28 hours

Hundreds of foreign diagnostics filled the glowing screen of Nikita's computer as she stared at it blankly. She had been in Section Four a full month, and within that time had already received a promotion to Level Four Operative. With her new status came new responsibility; and more opportunities to distract her from her emptiness. With the exception of social calls from Walter and Birkoff, and the occasional convenient liaison with Phoenix, she kept completely to herself.

Birkoff spent most of his "free time" running diagnostics on the contaminated clusters, to no avail. He could not locate a source, and there were no proverbial fingerprints to clue him in to where it had generated from.

By the end of their first month in Section Four, the tainted files had disappeared from the mainframe altogether, confirming his suspicions that the tampering had been internal. He saved his research to disc and did regular sweeps of the system to uncover any other anomalies, but nothing else turned up.

Disgruntled, he was forced to abandon his research, fearful that any further investigation than he had already pursued would attract unwanted attention from Oversight and jeopardize his standing within Section. In the meanwhile, Nikita focused on her training, trying to strengthen her body after the injuries incurred on her previous mission. She became a driven, fighting-machine, divorcing herself from her feelings and concentrating on moving up in Section Four. Under the attention of Programs she excelled and gained rank in a short period of three weeks.

Phoenix had recovered and took his position as a Level Five Operative in Section Four. His relationship with Nikita was one of convenience; there were few emotional attachments and no promises. Copulation was frequent, when welcome. For the most part, Nikita moved in her own separate circle and rarely 'socialized' with other operatives. She seemed too preoccupied with distracting herself from life-in-general to bother with everyday pleasantries.

The general climate of Section Four was more "laid back" than it was in Section One. Perhaps it was because the main body of operatives was devoted to research and maintenance...

Nikita felt as if she didn't quite fit in anywhere here, as they were rarely ever sent out on missions. In fact, she had not been sent on a "real" mission at all since she'd been there. At least, not until that morning, when Programs had called her into her office and set the profile in Nikita's hands and informed her she would be in charge of assigning teams. Nikita looked at her quizzically but took the assignment. She quickly assembled her team and assigned posts. They were going in to prime a mission that would later be picked-up by a more "active" Section; their assignment was to attend the opening night of an Art Gala in London, where they would locate in a man named Vladamir Gussev, who would be in attendance.

He was to be brought in for questioning. The information extracted would be elemental in plotting the Organization's next strike.

Nikita sighed and leaned back from her screen. Everything seemed to be in place. The mission was set, operatives had been assigned... she felt the old familiar butterflies in her stomach as she anticipated her return to the world of covert operations. All that was left to do now was wait...

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

Smoke and black lights lent an eerie glow to the exhibition hall where the Art "Collection" was on display. Human mannequins in various abstract poses stood on rotating pedestals, painted various shades of silver, gold, and glow-in-the-dark fluorescence. Nikita looked around the room, slowly scanning the faces of the guests around her. It was difficult to see through the haze and the lighting; she felt like she'd entered a different world. Music pulsed around her, but she seemed oblivious to the rhythm.

"We're supposed to be blending." Phoenix reminded her, his hand slipping around her waist as he drew her close.

Nikita feigned a flirtatious smile and leaned into his shoulder "Teams branch out." She ordered, tapping her EarCom lightly.

Phoenix drew her hand to his muscular chest, covering it with his own.

Several operatives on the opposite side of the room began combing the mob inconspicuously. Nikita made brief eye contact with each of them as she peered just over the top of Phoenix's shoulder.

Phoenix pulled his head down and nestled into Nikita's neck seductively. "Birkoff," he whispered into his CommLink, "Where is he?"

"He's in a room upstairs." Birkoff buzzed in on a closed channel.

"What?" Nikita asked, as Birkoff's connection grew fuzzy and began to break up.

"He's not where he's supposed to be. He's in a room upstairs."

"You'll have to direct us." Nikita said. "How do we get there?"

"There's a hallway to your far left. See it?"

Nikita glanced casually to her left. "Affirmative."

"It takes you up a stairwell. Go up the stairs, then turn right."

Glancing around the room, Nikita and Phoenix casually parted and made their way towards the stairs, hands intertwined. To the average observer, they appeared to be lovers looking for a private room.

"Where next?" Nikita asked, as the two operatives mounted the stairs.

"Three doors down, there should be another hallway to your left."

"We're there," Nikita said, as both she and Phoenix broke their casual strides and quickly jogged towards their destination.

"Take a left, a quick right, and it's the fourth door on the right."

"Birkoff, can you tell if there's anyone else in the room with him?"

"My scan is showing there is one, maybe two other people with him. They are expendable. Take them out."

"Gotcha."

Nikita tapped her earphone and spoke on the open channel, "Teams ready downstairs. Move at my command."

Nikita whipped her gun from its strap, and with one fluid movement kicked open the door and shot both men inside the room. As Phoenix trained his gun on Vladamir, Nikita spoke evenly: "Team One, upstairs." She proceeded to give coordinates, then looked at Vladamir. "You're going on a trip, Mr. Gussev." She said coldly. She tapped her CommLink "Birkoff, send clean-up."

Seconds later, two operatives arrived on the scene and discreetly escorted Vladamir off the premises. Nikita and Phoenix replaced their guns and started back down the stairwell. As she reached the main level, she turned to Phoenix and quickly relayed her orders: "Secure the south parameter and meet me out front in two minutes."

"Two minutes." Phoenix affirmed, casually glancing around. No one there had heard the gunshots above the music, or had even noticed a disturbance. Phoenix casually kissed Nikita on the mouth, then turned to make his rounds.

As Nikita turned to carry out her own security procedures, she was slightly thrown as her body collided with a solid force. "Pardon me," A voice thick with a French accent spoke as a hand reached to steady her. She glanced up to murmur her apology and nearly fainted as Michael's face loomed before her. Was she dreaming? She blinked, and he was gone. She looked around the room wildly. Nothing. She pushed her way through the crowds, paying no attention to her surroundings, as she frantically searched for Michael.

"Nikita, what are you doing? The van is ready to leave." Birkoff's voice was urgent.

"Birkoff... I saw Michael."

"That's impossible."

"I did!" Nikita insisted.

"Nikita, you need to get to the van. I'm sure you thought you saw Michael, but you can't go looking for a ghost. You can't compromise this mission." Birkoff's voice was pleading.

Reluctantly, Nikita abandoned her search and quickly resumed her path to the mission van.

"You did well." Programs commended, meeting the team as Nikita re-entered Section Four. The two women strode towards the Section's main corridor together in silence. "You let yourself get distracted at the end." Programs finally said, when they were safely out of earshot of the other operatives.

"I thought I saw an anomaly..." Nikita offered lamely.

"The mission goal had been accomplished. It wasn't a threat." Programs chided. "What did you see?"

Nikita shook her head. "It was nothing. Someone bumped into me, and I thought it was intentional. I didn't want to risk being identified."

Programs nodded. "I see." She walked at Nikita's side as they passed through the long corridor towards Comms. "I presume you will not let this happen in future missions?"

"It won't happen again." Nikita assured.

"Good." Programs stopped, facing Nikita. Nikita sensed a moment of hesitation before Programs announced. "You're being transferred from here."

"What?" Nikita asked, puzzled.

"I've received orders that you are to work on an assignment for Section One. It will be a brief internship; maybe a few months, at most. You'll be working as a consultant to Operations on a mission they're profiling."

Nikita looked at Programs, her face a mask of bewilderment. "Section One? They're functional?"

" Yes. At full capacity."

"When did this happen?"

Programs didn't answer. "You'll be leaving tomorrow morning. You have ten hours to prepare for departure."

Nikita nodded. "Thank you."*

Briefing Room
02/18 23:52 hours

Nikita had an odd sense of surrealism as she entered Section One. It seemed dream-like; her days there seemed as if they'd been in another lifetime. She crossed through Comms, met with unfamiliar faces at every turn. This was not the Section she knew; the surroundings were the same, with the exception a few substantial modifications, but the people did not belong.

"Excuse me," She said, stopping a young operative on his way to Transport, "Can you direct me to Operations' quarters?"

The operative pointed towards the Loft, then continued on his way.

"Friendly." Nikita muttered to herself. She felt only slightly nervous about meeting up with Operations again, as she began her ascent to the Loft.

She rapped on the door briskly. "Come in," a female voice called out. Nikita pushed open the door to see a young woman standing at the large expanse of windows overlooking Comms. She had exquisite features, and wide blue eyes accentuated by a close-cropped mop of red hair.

Nikita blinked as she tried to register one more unfamiliar face. "I was looking for Operations?"

"He'll be back in a few moments," the woman said, walking towards Nikita. "You are... ?"

"Nikita."

The woman tilted her head back and looked her over. "Ah yes, Nikita. As I said, he'll be back shortly. You're welcome to wait for him here."

"Where's Madeline?" Nikita asked, as her unfamiliarity with this woman began to gnaw at her.

The woman just looked at her quizzically and left the room.

"Well, thank you for your help." Nikita muttered to herself sarcastically. She stood for a moment, looking around her. The furnishings had changed only slightly. She wandered around the room a little nervously, peering out the window at the operatives milling about like busy ants below. She could almost see Birkoff at his computer... Walter in his workshop... Things as they used to be. Almost, but not quite. The sound of the door to the office opening cut into Nikita's thoughts.

"Hello, Nikita."

Nikita whirled around as if she'd been slapped in the face "You?"

Michael strode across the room and motioned for her to have a seat in front of his desk. "I have some matters to discuss with you."

"Wait." Nikita said, pressing her fingers to her temples. "You're Operations?" Michael said nothing, only waited for her to collect herself. "I don't understand. You were dead..."

"It's complicated. I cannot give you explanations. Simply accept things as they are and move on."

Nikita stared at him bewilderedly. "What's going on?"

"I need your help on a profile we're trying to put together. We need some of the insight you gained from your experience with Red Cell two years ago. That's why I asked Oversight to request you."

"Is that the only reason?"

Michael looked her dead in the eye. "Yes." He said without flinching.

"I see." Nikita said, dropping her gaze, her voice instantly formal. "Where's the profile?"

"We'll go over that tomorrow. You need your rest."

"You were at the Art Gala last night." Nikita cut in, before he could dismiss her.

"Yes."

"Why?" Nikita asked. Michael did not answer.

"You may go."

Nikita stood for a moment, as her shock swelled into rage. "Don't do this, Michael!" She fumed, standing from her chair and slamming her fist on the desk in front of him. "I don't understand any of this... You were dead... now you're not... would you at least give me an explanation... ?!" Nikita's head was still spinning. She felt her knees begin to buckle and her fingers clawed at the desk as she tried to grasp hold of something... anything to anchor her to reality.

"I am Operations now. You are obligated to do as I say. And I say this discussion is over." Michael cut her off abruptly. "You are free to retire to your quarters."

Nikita's mouth clamped shut. She braced herself against his desk for a moment and just stared at him, her eyes cold and empty. Without further words, she left his office.