PART ONE - MICHAEL

Michael sat quietly in his office at Section One, staring at his computer screen; the sadness in his green eyes reflected the great loss he felt in his heart. He could barely prevent the tears that threatened to fall, but releasing them wouldn't help, wouldn't bring Nikita back to him. He looked around, checking the corridors to be sure no one was approaching. Satisfied he was not being observed Michael keyed in the sequence to uplink to the communications satellite. To elude the trace program devised by Birkoff's brilliant mind, the uplink took several minutes to complete.

He could reach out to anywhere in the world from here, but there was only one person on the planet he wanted to contact. Michael was sure he would have to confide in Birkoff sooner, rather than later, as he would need the young genius' help to keep Section off Nikita's tail - *if she's alive. She's alive, she has to be. I would know if she weren't.* Michael said to himself -- grasping at any positive thought while he waited for a connection. He typed in the message: "Nikita, are you there?"

It happened so fast; he didn't tell her all he wanted to say. He shook the thought from his mind. *How could I tell her, knowing she would be gone forever. It would have been selfish. I had three years to tell her. She needs her freedom more than she needs me,* he reasoned. *She has what she wants.* But that thought offered only cold comfort.

The waiting was excruciating. Finally the blip of the computer soundboard announced the message had reached the pager. *If the pager survived the explosion, then Nikita must have escaped too!* Michael closed his eyes and smiled, but the buzz from his PC forced his eyes to the screen, "connection terminated," it read. *It's Nikita; it has to be.* He had to believe that, or all the risk was for nothing.

Michael shut down the computer and stood, fastening his jacket, then strode quickly out of Section and into the cold night. It was late, but he knew sleep would not find him tonight. He decided to take a drive through the deserted city, alone with his thoughts.

The streets were like lonely canyons amid the towering skyscrapers, a canvass of long shadows cast by the silvery light of the full moon. It hung like a signal lantern and Michael wondered if Nikita could see it from wherever she was. She would like it, he thought, full and bright. Like her smile, it was spectacular.

But even this perfect, celestial lamp could not light the darkness consuming Michael. Nikita was the only light in his life, and she was gone. He had freed the caged bird, and now she was lost to him and his world was as empty as that imaginary cage.

Michael parked the car at Inspiration Point, a gathering place for lovers high above the city. As he looked out over the ocean of twinkling lights below, he let his mind fill with images and memories of Nikita. He was drawn to her immediately, recognizing her potential both as an operative, and an alluring woman. He remembered thinking how beautiful and innocent she looked, lying on that gurney in the white interrogation room. *How could such innocence hide the black heart of a cop killer,* he thought then.

She had vehemently denied her guilt, "I didn't kill anyone. I didn't..." she screamed during their first encounter, but he was not swayed. Considering the talent pool from which Section recruited, denial of guilt was a common occurrence.

But Nikita's reaction to killing Van Vactor's henchman two years later told him she was telling the truth back then. She had taken a life to save him, and he knew by her reaction that it was her first kill. *Why had she saved me?* He couldn't think of anything that he had done to deserve that magnitude of sacrifice. He convinced himself at the time that any feelings Nikita had for him were related to mentor-trainee infatuation, or the captive falling for the kidnapper, like an old movie plot. But despite his betrayal of her trust that night he took her on a dinner date, she had still killed to protect him.

Michael was so concerned about her safety he never heard the approach of Van Vactor's man. In fact, when Nikita fired her gun, he was sure she was aiming at him. It was only after the bullet zipped past his ear, that instant when he wasn't sure if he'd been hit, that he heard the assassin behind him. In the moments that followed, Michael swore to protect her at any cost.

Although his methods seemed harsh, at times even cruel, he had to be sure she had the tools, the mental toughness and physical skills, to survive in Section. Her survival was paramount; he had to save her from Operations' cancellation order, and the only way to do that was to let her go. It was only now, now that she was lost to him that he began to realize how essential she was to his own existence. *How can I survive without her?* He wasn't convinced he could.

Protecting Nikita had been at the top of his personal agenda for the last three years. And, despite all the times he failed to tell Nikita the depth of his feelings, surely she realized it now. The irony of this revelation was palpable. Even if she returned his love, he would never know it. *She is beyond my reach. I can't be a part of her world, or help her face the future.* His responsibility as Nikita's self-appointed dragonslayer ended in a fiery blast at the silo. Michael's senses were overloaded; he had to focus, clear his mind. He knew she was alive and that would have to be enough.

Feeling restless again, he started the car and continued his midnight tour of the city. *Nikita is gone and I have to deal with it,* he chided himself again. But the hurt was too fresh and her memory too close to keep his thoughts focused elsewhere. He wasn't surprised when he stopped the car at her building. He looked up at the French doors, dark and uninviting, another visual reminder that Nikita was gone. Not that Michael expected her to be here, but he was still drawn to this place like a moth to a flame.

It was just past 4:00am. Michael unlocked the door to Nikita's apartment and went in, closing the door quietly behind him. He breathed deeply, her scent still lingered here and it filled his nostrils. He moved around the kitchen, his hand gliding over the counter. Visions of Nikita wearing the colorful and unique sunglasses suspended over the bar filled his mind's eye. She had a pair for every mood, every outfit -- a statement of her independence and style; Michael touched them all. He wished he could see her in them just once more, see her pull them down to look at him over the top of the frames, piercing him with that cool, icy-blue stare.

Tiredness washed over him; his body ached. Michael felt his considerable strength ebbing away as if some invisible force was draining his energy. Like a stopper pulled from a sink full of water, it spiraled into a swirling, black vortex. Crossing the room to the French doors, Michael walked out on the balcony and looked up into the night sky. The moonlight glistened in his moist emerald eyes, and he could barely swallow for the lump in his throat.

The chill in the air matched the cold emptiness in his heart. Michael stood on the balcony for some time, wondering if he would be able to refocus on Section's work. He had sacrificed so much already, there was nothing left to give. But these thoughts were easily pushed aside as his longing for Nikita lead him back inside and into her bedroom. He switched on the lamp on the nightstand, and looked around. One day Michael had hoped Nikita would invite him to this room, and to her bed. He wondered if she would have returned his passion, if she wanted their physical union as much as he did. Another question to which he would never know the answer.

Michael realized he could not indulge these thoughts for long, but for now, he wanted to be as close to Nikita as possible so he fell into her bed, perchance to sleep and dream of Nikita.

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

PART TWO - NIKITA

The train sped through the night, winding its way along the lonely tracks into the mountain shadows. Nikita looked out the window of her compartment and smiled slightly as she focused on the luminous full moon shimmering in the near cloudless, night sky. All she was sure of at this moment was that she was alive and this freedom train was taking her away from Section One.

In the last three years she had only dreamed of the possibility of life without Section and now the dream was a reality. That thought made her lightheaded, intoxicated with the idea of freedom and a normal life. She wasn't even sure what that was - a normal life - but she was sure she wanted to find out. *My life has never been normal - abusive mom, life on the streets, then Section One - nothing normal there,* she thought. *Well, maybe I don't know normal, but I do know freedom.*

Just then her reverie was snapped by the beeping of the pager Michael had given her. "Nikita, are you there?" appeared on the tiny message screen. Michael's last words flashed through her mind, "We'll be able to communicate from anywhere." *Was it Michael, or someone else? How can I be sure? Maybe it's just another Section test, will I run or return?*

These thoughts assaulted her mind in an instant. She couldn't sort it out now, so she made the only choice she could. Hesitating briefly, Nikita reached down to press the 'off' button on the pager. If Michael sent the message, the terminated signal would let him know the pager was operational, and if so, he would probably assume she was okay.

Nikita closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat as the gentle rocking of the train lulled her like a baby in a cradle. She reached up to touch her sore shoulder. The pain was an annoyance more than anything. The impact of Tyler's bullet had left a deep bruise, but the kevlar vest had prevented penetration, and thankfully, she did not need medical attention. Trying to explain a gunshot wound to the authorities was more than she could deal with right now. Despite her physical exhaustion, Nikita could not fall asleep, so she began to process the day's events.

Everything happened so suddenly, one minute she was on another mission, and then she was running for her life. Only now was she beginning to consider the possibilities, and the consequences of the last twenty-four hours.

She pictured Michael's tortured face the last time she saw him. At the time she thought it was just concern for the mission's success, but now understood it was concern for her -- and a final, sad goodbye. Once again he had protected her; even though earlier in the day he told her he could no longer do so. Michael not only protected her; he saved her from a fiery death and freed her from Section - and from him.

Free from Michael. Nikita couldn't imagine that, nor did she desire it. She had never really allowed herself to consider that life without Section also meant life without Michael. She had separated her feelings for him from her loathing of Section life. It was difficult, but necessary. The heart wants what the heart wants, and her heart wanted Michael. She remembered how comfortable she felt in his embrace the last time they were alone, and it warmed her. He held her so close, so tenderly. They both meant what they said, that they wished things could be different. Never did she think that 'different' meant apart - forever.

As she thought of him now, his handsome face, exquisite green eyes and gentle voice, she could not grasp the thought that she would never see him again. Even as the train pulled her farther away from him geographically, she felt closer to him than ever before. *Wasn't letting me go the greatest sacrifice of love?* Tears welled up in her eyes, *he loved me enough to let me go, to put my needs first. He saved me, not only from Section, but also from myself,* she thought, recalling the gun she held to her forehead only hours ago.

She had never learned to trust Section, and with good reason. She never completely trusted Michael, either, but now she realized he was the only one in her life she could trust. She had made no secret of her desire for freedom. Michael especially knew how conflicted she was about the work of Section One.

He also knew, better than anyone that she wanted out of Section did. He had given her what she wanted, freedom, but at great personal cost to both of them.

She never even had the chance to tell him goodbye. There was no closure; her heart was an open wound she feared would never heal.

finis

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