ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours. i used to think that i knew what we needed just assumed we would always be fine, now i don’t think that we lost the feeling but we let everything build up inside it’s only love, but love should make us strong it’s only love but love has been hurting so long what a challenge, honesty, what a struggle to learn to speak who’d have thought that pretending was easier. it’s only love but love has been hurting so long and it’s all a part of me, it tears at my heart only love and it’s all an eternity, hoping to learn only love there’s a part of you i’m trying to reach still a part i don’t know, tell me, is devotion a gift or a thief? do you wish i’d let go? PROLOGUE May 2013 The silver Mercedes coupe glided through the remote yet posh neighborhood, passing exclusive mansion after mansion where manicured lawns framed contemporary homes of wood, glass and stone in which the wealthy and rather reclusive lived. Nearing her destination Michelle slowed her approach when she noticed a bright, midnight blue BMW parked in her driveway. Recognizing the vehicle immediately, she wondered about her sister’s emotional condition, concerned that Nikita’s first stop, after returning from her trip abroad, was here. That her sister had come to her at all was a testament to just how far they had come in their relationship in the last twelve years. At times awkward and often acrimonious, she and Nikita had fortunately managed to overcome their obstacles, and most definitely their pride, to create a strong sisterly bond that Michelle had only dreamed of as a child and which today would (hopefully) prove to be a blessing. Exiting the car, Michelle pressed a button on her key chain and listened for the double beep that insured her car doors locked before heading out of the garage and into her home. Without forethought she dropped her purse and keys on the center island in the kitchen and then made a quick search of the house for Nikita. Checking all the rooms on the lower floor first, including the pool area, and finding no one, Michelle headed upstairs where she found Nikita seated stiffly on the leather couch in their father’s office. Or at least that was how Michelle mentally still referred to the room, even though her father had been gone for over a decade and now she and her sister shared it as their own office at home. Hesitating in the doorway for a moment, Michelle paused to observe Nikita, who sat there staring out into space, still wrapped up in her fawn-colored summer trench coat and shoulder bag hanging from her arm where it had slid of her shoulder. Suddenly Nikita jerked her head in Michelle’s direction, granting Michelle a direct view into her sister’s soul and the pain she witnessed in Nikita’s eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen and it broke her own heart. Waiting no longer, she stepped into the room and planted herself next to Nikita on the couch and slipped her left arm gently around her sister in a gesture of comfort and compassion. Nikita did nothing in response, her posture remaining stiff and her gaze focused elsewhere. Long minutes passed in silence, Michelle simply offering the comfort of her presence because no words would be sufficient. Then slowly, without a sound, tears began to stream down Nikita’s face. Internally, Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. For it finally seemed as if her sister was letting go of the grief and pain she had internalized all these years, not only at losing Michael, but every loss that had occurred. Circling her free arm around Nikita, Michelle calmly rocked her sister back and forth as a mother would her child. When Nikita’s body began trembling from the outpouring of emotions, Michelle tightened her hold and began whispering words of love and support, heads pressed together in shared comfort and grief. Slowly the trembling ceased and the tears dissipated. Pushing herself to a sitting position, Nikita glanced around for some tissue. Understanding her desire, Michelle rose off the couch and grabbed the box of tissue off the desk and then returned to her seat. Once Nikita had had a moment to compose herself and regain her equilibrium, Michelle turned toward her sister, brushing back a strand of loose hair from her face, and gently requested, “Tell me what happened.” Glancing over at Michelle, Nikita gave a humorless laugh. In an effort to stall as she gathered her thoughts, Nikita shrugged off her coat and dropped her bag on the floor. Then interlacing her right hand through one of her sister’s hands, she relayed the events in San Francisco. She began with what was easiest. “Adam. Adam is wonderful. I was so proud of him – listening to him give his valedictorian speech, watching him walk across that stage,” pausing she looked to Michelle and said, “That moment made it all worthwhile. I was reminded again when he walked across the stage that he’s the reason for our work. So that other children like him have the same opportunity to learn freely and safely. To not ever know about the true level of evil that permeates this world.” Michelle smiled softly at Nikita’s words, understanding her meaning completely. Lost somewhere in the events of the last several days, Nikita gazed out aimlessly across the room as she spoke again. “I went to the Palace of Fine Arts the next day, knowing they would be there. Hoping…I don’t know what I had hoped. No,” pausing a moment, shaking her head, “No, I know what I had hoped,” emphasizing the word ‘had’, “I had hoped to be with them again.” She laughed self-deprecatingly at her last comment. Michelle began to protest, but Nikita cut her off with a gesture of her hand. “No. I of all people should have known better,” turning on the couch to face her sister she continued, “But I wanted to Michelle. I wanted to…so…badly,” - her last few words coming out more as a sob than a spoken sound, breaking Michelle’s heart. Still, Nikita managed to keep herself composed and continued speaking. “I stood at the edge of the park. Just watching. Eventually, Victoria arrived to pick them up. So they gathered their belongings and headed over towards her.” She paused a look of almost peace graced her face for a moment. “Then…then as Adam and Michael were walking away Michael stopped and turned towards my direction. I felt it immediately. Our connection. Like nothing had ever changed. He smiled at me. One of his beautifully rare smiles that I would recognize anywhere. Then…for a moment…just a fraction of a second, no longer, I closed my eyes and hoped. I wished, prayed, and pleaded for those few heartbeats that when I opened my eyes, he would be standing there….” Trailing off, Nikita halted her narrative again and Michelle, while guessing at the ending, still sat on pins and needles waiting for the rest. Her eyes closed, as if she were back at that spot in San Francisco reliving the moment all over again, Nikita whispered, “But he was gone. When I opened my eyes he had turned around and walked away.” For a second time Michelle pulled her sister into a tight embrace, rocking her gently, heads titled against once another in comfort. As the moments passed Michelle gathered her own thoughts then took her turn to speak. “Everything I can think of to say at this moment sounds so cliché. So I won’t. I can only begin to imagine how difficult this has been – letting go a second time. I just ask that you don’t forget that there are those here who love you so much. Me. Jared. Walter - so many others. You have our full support. You know that, right?” she inquired. Feeling Nikita nod her head in acquiescence, Michelle continued. “Good. Then let me also give you a piece of advice. You’re going through some major changes right now, dear sister and you need to be at full capacity. So please, if not for yourself, then for me, will take these next couple days as downtime? To rest up and recharge?” Nikita pulled back for a moment from her sister’s embrace and grinned mischievously at her. Michelle just rolled her eyes and laughed, then questioned, “You’re gonna make me beg aren’t you?” Her comment caused Nikita to laugh and for the first time in over a week, she believed that things would get better – with time – and that maybe she would eventually begin to heal. ONE September 2013 Khalil sat quietly across from his superior as he waited for her to finish reading his weekly report. During moments like this he would often take the opportunity to study the powerful woman sitting across from him, hoping to gain even a fraction of understanding about her. Fairly youthful in appearance, despite approaching middle age, her pale hair showed no grays (though coloring and highlights were probably used to hide such signs), her body was as sleek and toned as any agent half her age, and very few wrinkles marred her smooth skin. Dressed in a pale blue knee length skirt and jacket with a midnight blue shell underneath and hair coiffed back in a French twist, one would be hard pressed to believe the woman on the other side of the table was once a formidable anti-terrorist field operative working for the most covert anti-terrorist organization ever created. One would guess more likely that she was a lawyer or an executive of a major corporation. Nonetheless, when put together, somehow all of these contradictions made complete sense and that was why Khalil’s superior was the best of the best in their line of work and why he had been duly honored when selected to be her assistant just over four months ago. The clicking of keys on the keyboard interrupted Khalil’s train of thought, indicating that his superior had finished reading over the report. Tilting his head slightly as she looked over at him, Khalil intoned with his eyes as to whether or not she had any questions for him. Smiling at the familiar skill of communicating through non-verbal means, a skill that she had once been so used to with another man so long ago, Nikita, now officially referred to as Ms. Jones by her subordinates, placed her first question before her assistant. “When will Section One have closure on the Iron Fist profile?” “If everything goes according to mission profile then closure of phase one will be completed by the end of the week. There are still some questions as to whether or not their leader feels secure enough to go through with the purchase. However, Buchanan built in a contingency for such an event and is working on the alternative as we speak,” Khalil replied. “Good. I want no mistakes with this mission. Iron Fist has gained too great of a foothold lately for my liking. And with Red Storm in disintegration from the events in North Africa, I don’t want a group like Iron Fist moving in.” “Agreed. I will monitor the situation closely and update you as needed.” “Fine. Now, as to your recommendations for Section Six, you’ve outlined valid arguments for both plans, but I want you to tell me what your gut says.” “While the more logical conclusion would be to divert resources from Western Europe and open several more sleeper bases throughout the Midwest, I believe that would be foolish. The resources in the United States are already in place and with a greater open door policy between agencies in recent years, we would just need to provide the local agencies with more in depth training, thereby permitting a greater chance of success without wasting resources. At either end,” he concluded. Nikita weighed Khalil’s answer for a moment, truly impressed with his arguments, much as she had been with his overall work during these last four months since they had been working together. Khalil’s ability to create workable solutions had proven to be a tremendous asset not only to her own work, but to the general organization as well. Having come to the same conclusion herself she replied, “I agree. I think there will be greater success if we work with small contingencies within the existing US agencies, which will also employ the building blocks for larger levels of inter-agency support. Go ahead and send the recommendation to Committee.” “Done,” he answered, then, “Is there anything else?” “Just one more thing,” Nikita answered in an extremely grave manner, giving Khalil pause to wonder what could have happened to warrant such a tone. After a few seconds, she gave her poor assistant a reprieve, grinning ever so slightly and asked, “You will be there tonight, yes?” Laughing in relief at his superior’s teasing, he replied, “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” “Good,” she stated, rising from her chair, “I guess we’re all though here. So, if you could just take care of that report, then I will dismiss you early today in celebration.” Also having risen from his chair, Khalil graced Nikita with one of his warm smiles, picked up his PDA from the table where it rested and exited the office to finish his work Such a beautiful man, Nikita thought not for the first time, as she watched the lithe, dark-skinned man stride out of her office, the doors silently sliding closed behind him. Aesthetically speaking, Khalil was one of the most beautiful human beings she had ever known. Standing at just over six feet, two inches, the Ethiopian man should have graced the covers of magazines and movie screens with his devilish brown eyes and breath-taking smile. However, she thought, sighing, I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. Still, her assistant’s true beauty lay not in his appearance, but in his mind and heart . Even though they had only been working together for a short time, Nikita had come to rely on him more quickly than any other assistant in the past. Khalil had put her at ease in such a way that made working with him utterly pleasurable. Chuckling at the fanciful path her thoughts had taken, Nikita shook her head and walked over to the bank of monitors against the far left corner of the room. The monitors were just one of the minor adjustments she had made to the office upon taking over, desiring more readily access to the activities of the sub-structures under her watch. Giving the monitors a cursory read-through, she returned to her previous place at the ultra modern white conference-like table that served as her desk. Her thoughts, drifting again from work, journeyed back in time to the past, as she seemed want to do lately. After her father’s death Nikita finally began to receive real answers about her family history and the complete truth behind her recruitment into Section. The ones she had been desperately seeking for so long. They had come in a lengthy letter from her father, brief snippets of information from his colleagues at Committee and eventually, emotionally-charged conversations with her sister. Those were the most difficult and the hardest to achieve. Both she and Michelle had held such a distrust of one another at first, too scarred by the past to open up to each another. However, that particular situation changed several weeks into her stint as Operations at Section One when she received a time-delayed message from her father. ### April 2001 Exhausted beyond belief and craving sleep as if it were the only drug in the universe, Nikita collapse bonelessly onto her new bed in the bedroom of the Tower - the first few weeks of leading Section One having finally taken their toll. One of her first official actions as Operations, while utterly superficial on some levels, yet also completely necessary to cement the changing of the guards, was to redo the entire living quarters known as the Tower. Gone was the stark style Paul Wolfe had favored, replaced with muted blues, browns and pinks and solid, yet livable furniture, her aim to create a comfortable yet simple space. Her bed, however, had been her one luxurious splurge - a beautiful teak Queen-sized bed imported directly from Indonesia with the thickest mattress available. After days like today her indulgence became all the more worthwhile. Lying there listlessly, Nikita allowed her mind to zone out, lacking even the energy to rise and prepare for bed. Unfortunately her reprieve lasted only minutes when an incessant beeping burst from the monitor in the room, informing her of an incoming message. Why do I even bother sometimes with having Comm. hold my calls, she wondered humorously. Typing in the necessary code, the message popped up immediately. Only the message had not come from Comm. Typing in a few more commands to bring up the text of the message, Nikita found her task halted because it was gene-coded and in order to access it she needed to be at another monitor station with gene-coded reading capabilities. Now too intrigued to hold off on the message for sleep, Nikita moved from her bedroom through the apartment to her private, downsized office off the living area. Inside, she seated herself at the monitor station and placed her finger on the genetic scanner, which was elaborate Section-speak for a needle that pricked ones finger for blood so as to access one’s DNA. That done, she was finally able to retrieve the message and found herself stunned at its origins. The message was from her father, written prior to his death. Uncertain of its meaning, Nikita paused to consider what compartment of Pandora’s box she might be opening next if she read it. Pressing back in her chair, her head lulled back as she considered her options. Realistically, she knew she would eventually have to read the message, but the question was did she want to read it now or postpone it for when she might be better equipped, mentally and emotionally. Sighing in frustration at herself and at her weakness for desiring knowledge, Nikita looked back at the monitor and began reading. Nikita, I am sure that you continue to be angry with me for my recent actions as well as those from so long ago. Believe me when I say I understand. You should be angry; it’s only natural after all you have been through, after all I’ve revealed to you. ‘Gee thanks!’ Nikita thought sarcastically, ‘I’m so glad I have your permission to be angry Father.’ I only pray that in time you will come to comprehend my motivations, and if not forgive me, then at least permit me your understanding. The following is an account of my involvement with C.I.I. and how both you and your sister became entangled in the organization. I did not begin my career inside Center. I attended Cambridge University as a student at King’s College where I discovered that I had a natural ability for understanding politics as well as an ear for languages. So that is where I turned my focus with a degree in Political Science and several languages under my belt. Afterwards, I was encouraged by a family friend to sign up as an officer with the British army. I interviewed and found that the army appeared to be a place where my skills could be put to use and so I joined. I served as an Intelligence Officer, eventually obtaining the level of Captain. I was primarily stationed in Africa, where my knowledge of French and Portuguese could be used most effectively with some time spent in Latin America as well. Then one day I was called home to England. When I arrived there I was introduced to a woman who would forever alter the course of my life. A woman you yourself came to know rather well. Adrian. I was invited to her private residence in London one afternoon where she served High Tea and told me about her organization called Section One. At the time Section had been established for almost twenty years, but had not yet branched out to included most of the other Sections or Oversight. And Center was only a scaled down version of what it was to become. After Adrian explained the structure and purpose of the organization to me she then offered me a position within it. My title would be Chief Tactician – in other words, I would be originating the position Michael himself held. Adrian did not mince words about the work nor about my position. If I agreed to join Section all ties would be severed from family and friends, in the most literal sense. Just as we do now for all incoming operatives my death would be faked, with honors of course, and I would receive a proper military burial. Philip Wickham would cease to exist. She gave me forty-eight hours to think her proposition over and then bid me adieu. Obviously I do not have to tell you what my decision was. While it was not an easy one, I have never doubted it. A month later I was “dead” and inside Section One beginning formal training. Lasting an abbreviated period of nine months since I had been recruited from Army Intelligence and was quiet familiar with intelligence gathering, profiling and tactical planning, what my training did teach me was how to fight dirty. I learned to create mission profiles that would have never been suggested let alone been executed in the army. It was a bit of an adjustment at first. However, when the success of our results became clear the methods became easier to accept. As a bonus, I thoroughly enjoyed working with Adrian and George, especially Adrian. We developed a very strong friendship and to this day I am grateful to her for that. So now that I have told you some of my history, I am certain you are beginning to wonder just how you, your sister and your mother fit into all of this. Well, at the time I joined Section and for several years afterwards the higher-ranking operatives were not as restricted with regards to their personal lives, unlike current policy. We were allowed to have a life outside of Section so long as no one knew our true work. For myself it did not matter one way or the other. Prior to Section I had lead a solitary life and well, after Section, that lifestyle seemed even more appropriate. That was until I met your mother. I was on a month’s downtime and had decided to spend my time trekking across Australia. I had been there only once, and very briefly, but what I had seen of it was mesmerizing. My last week there I spent in Sydney, where I met your mother. I saw her sitting at a café I frequented near my hotel one day, reading a book of Beaudelaire’s poetry. Being one of my favorite poets, I went over to her and we began discussing his works. Oh, she was enchanting. Roberta had the warmest smile I had ever seen. If I was prone to romantic notions, I might even say it was love at first sight. After that we spent as much time together as possible during my remaining days. I learned that she was a music teacher at a local primary school, but what she had really wanted to be was a dancer. However, her strict Irish Catholic mother disapproved of the idea and her father saw no future in it. So she chose to teach music instead. Those few days together flew by, but after my return to Section we continued to communicate through letters and six months later I was asking her to marry me. We were married in Sydney that so her family could attend – I had told her I was an orphan raised in foster homes and therefore had no family. Although, a few friends from Section did come, including Adrian. Then we returned to Paris. At first it was extremely difficult for your mother, not knowing French or any other people beside myself. Nonetheless, she adapted quickly, learning French through the assistance of a neighbor who was a French teacher and by finding a group of fellow Australian transplants in the city to befriend. After awhile, she began to love Paris and it was as if she had lived there all her life, even becoming fluent enough in French so that she was able to secure another teaching position. Personally, I had never been happier. Even the secrecy surrounding my work posed little problems for us. Roberta accepted the classified nature of my work with her usual grace and aplomb. We were happy. Then something I never expected to happen did. Nine months after your mother and I were married she became pregnant. Roberta of course was thrilled and I was, to say the least, stunned. I worried how a child would be affected by my work, yet at the same time I could not deny that a part of me was overjoyed at having created another human being with my wife. Another nine months later you and Michelle were born. Yes, Michelle is your fraternal twin sister. (You being the older by five minutes.) Of course we were completely shocked. No one had guessed your mother was carrying twins, but that day I had never seen your mother so happy or so at peace. And I fell in love with both of you instantly. I am only sorry that you learn of our love, both your mother’s and mine, so late. For we did love you, both of you my dear, more than you could ever know. So, I am certain you are curious as to what happened next. How did we end up here? That my daughter is a complicated story in and of itself and it begins with one man – Paul Wolfe. As you know Paul came to Section straight out of a Vietnam POW camp. From the beginning he demonstrated tremendous promise. Adrian had great hopes for him and placed me as his trainer, believing that we would, as we did, become good friends. Paul had a wonderful biting sense of humor and always proved to be great company. In addition, having both served in the army, we had a great deal in common. The situation started to change, though, when I married your mother. You see Paul fell in love with her at first sight. I noticed his affections early on, but Roberta was that type of woman and so I was not surprised. It was easy to fall in love with her. My mistake, however, was in trusting in our friendship because what I did not realize at the time and what I would later come to regret not knowing was that when Paul Wolfe desired something – or someone – he would do everything within his power to obtain it. He created a profile to win your mother same as if he were profiling a mission. He began by befriending her, helping her to fit in when she first came to Paris. We even chose him to be your godfather. The irony in that choice would only become clear years later. As the years passed and Paul came no closer to drawing Roberta away from me, he redesigned his profile, believing that only when I was dead could he obtain your mother’s heart. However, what Paul did not know, what he never knew, was that Adrian and George had him under a microscope. Initially, their intention was to watch and observe so as to determine whether or not Paul had the capacity to one day take over operational command of Section One. What they unwittingly discovered was a plot to assassinate me. But instead of preventing the plan and putting Paul in abeyance, they decided to use his profile to their advantage. You see, Nikita, in addition to monitoring Paul for Section, they were also monitoring me for Center. With the rapidly increasing incidents of terrorism in the late seventies and into the early eighties, Adrian realized that the organization also needed to grow in order to combat these increases. The catch was that I would once again have to “die” but this time I was given no choice in the matter. My ‘promotion’ was non-negotiable. In their own time, Adrian and George informed me of the profile and how it would play out. At first I was furious and I let both of them know it. I pointedly informed them that they could not grant me the freedom to marry and create a family only to take it away from me at a moment’s notice without my input in making such a decision. They disagreed and in the end, they used this freedom against me. My love for you three was the reason I capitulated, forced to willingly accept their profile and my new position. Adrian, in her ever so subtle way, made it quite clear that it would be in my family’s best interest if I accepted the position. I realized in that moment how I had been cuckolded and that any semblance of a “normal” life within the organization was a fool’s dream. In the days to come my situation would only worsen. Just prior to the final phase of the transition and days before my “death,” Adrian called me into her office once more where she calmly informed me that I was to choose one of my daughters to take with me. That whomever I chose would also “die” to then be raised within the organization. The child was to be part of an experimental program they were testing. I refused. It had been my choice all those years ago to lead this life, but I had no plans to submit my innocent children to such a life. Adrian allowed me my moment of protest to which she replied that if I did not chose a daughter one would be chosen for me and I would have no say or part in her training. She had won and I knew it. She then informed me I had until the next day to notify her of my decision. I went home feeling weary and far beyond my thirty-eight years. I spent time playing with both you and Michelle, silently agonizing over how to make this impossible decision. In the end, I took the cowards way out and flipped a coin. The coin chose Michelle and I had my answer. I informed Adrian the next day. Four days later Michelle and I were “killed” in a car bomb, courtesy of Paul Wolfe. The only kink in Paul’s profile being that Michelle was with me in the car. At least I could be somewhat appeased by the fact that he was not willing to kill my children. Not until years later, anyway. So there you have it, Nikita. The story of our lives, as they say. Afterwards of course, Michelle and I were forbidden from having contact with either you or your mother. Adrian had promised me you and Roberta would be well cared for, what we never expected, none of us, even Paul, was how hard our deaths would be on her. She slipped into a deep depression and never really came out. At first Adrian did her best to help your mother. Found a nanny for you, a psychologist to counsel her, but in the end it was not enough and one day Roberta disappeared with you in tow. Eventually, Section caught up with your whereabouts, but only as observers. They would no longer intervene on either of your behaves and I was strictly forbidden to do so as well. So I watched. I watched as your mother began her descent into drugs, abusive boyfriends, and the occasional necessity to prostitute herself. I watched as you combed the dumpsters for food and as the men in your mother’s life abused you all while watching my other daughter be schooled from an early age to become an anti-terrorist operative. So no, Nikita, as I told you before it was not easy at all. As for Paul, I think he resented me even more after my death because afterwards Roberta was not even interested in friendship let alone any sort of romantic relationship. I do not doubt his resentment lingered until the day he died and it was certainly one of the reasons behind his treatment of you while in Section. With regards as to why your mother never told you about Michelle, I cannot answer that question. Maybe because you were so young and eventually lost what memories you had of your sister she felt it was kinder if you did not know. I was tempted to do the same for Michelle, but chose not to. While I told her very little, she did know that at one time she had had a twin sister and that her sister, like her mother, could no longer be with us. Only when I believed I would be successful in my profile to have you take over my position at Center did I begin to disclose more about you to Michelle. I hope all of this has given you the answers you sought. I hope you can now understand my actions and see why, despite the limitations of the work on our own lives, we are needed here. You, my dear Nikita, are an outstanding operative. You were from the start. But even more than that, you are an incredibly special human being and I am so proud to have been your father. I love you, my dear girl. Stay strong and be secure in the knowledge that I have chosen my successor well. ~ Your Father. As if waking from a trance, Nikita became aware once again of her surroundings. The whole story was overwhelming, sending her mind and heart into a tale spin. Her brain, too overloaded to even process what she had just read, Nikita saved the electronic letter onto a disk, placed it with her private files and returned to the bedroom. Exhausted by the events of the last few weeks, which included her father’s death, Michael’s leaving and her succession as Operations, this last bit was too much to handle so late at night. Deciding to deal with the fallout of her father’s revelations in the morning, Nikita fell into bed and was soon fast asleep. *** Having read the letter three times now, her eyes blurry with drying tears, Nikita rose from her computer chair and moved over to the brown leather couch in the living room and sat down. While difficult to learn the truth of her family’s past, she was grateful to her father (and rather relieved) that he had finally told her the truth. Curling her cotton pajama clad legs under her Nikita laid her head against the right arm of the couch to think. As she lay there resting and processing, she heard a code being punched in outside the entrance to the Tower and several second later Walter entered. “Hey Sugar,” he greeted affectionately, then paused, taken aback by her disheveled appearance. “What’s up? Did you forget about our breakfast date?” Looking up at her dear friend and the man she considered her father in spirit, she replied, “Oh, I’m sorry Walter. I got caught up with something.” Planting himself next to Nikita, he patted her on the leg and said, “Don’t worry honey. I know these last few weeks have been rough. Hang in there. You’re doing a fine job already.” Grateful for his concern and support, she gave him a soft smile. On a daily basis, Nikita continued to wonder what she would have ever done without Walter. He had gotten her through more rocky times than she could count and his love for her still helped to keep her spirit buoyant. Realizing she wanted to share her father’s letter with him more than anything, Nikita briefly summarized the events since last night and the narrative in the letter. When she finished, Walter found himself as flabbergasted as Nikita. He had never know Nikita’s father since, by the time he was brought up into Section One, Philip had already been ‘killed’ and moved up to Center. “So,” he inquired cautiously, “What do you think you’re going to do?” “I don’t know,” she sighed. Walter then took her hand in his and sat there, side-by-side, in companionable silence. There was not much that could be said. Her father made a great deal of sacrifices and with him now dead Nikita had very few means to achieve any further type of closure - except with one person. Sliding forward on the couch, Nikita made to rise, but first turned to her friend and pleadingly asked, “Walter, would you mind a rain check on breakfast?” “No, Sugar. Of course not. Can I ask where you are going?” “To see my sister.” *** As quickly as possible, Nikita made arrangements to travel to Center and then hurriedly showered and changed. While in transit, she contemplated the letter again and again, cautiously attempting to sort thorough her conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand she wanted to hate her father, still very angry that he had dictatorial dumped this life on her while at the same time forcing her to give up the man she so desperately loved. On the other hand, she did not envy his position all these years, empathizing with the choices he had made and the sacrifices he had to forfeit. As with all things in Section, even her family history was clothed in shades of gray, leaving no easy conclusion to be made. Noticing her arrival at Center, Nikita gathered her bag and waited as her drive exited the car and opened the rear driver’s side door for her. She stepped out of the car into the garage and headed for the bank of elevators on the opposite side. Punching in the proper codes, the doors glided open to admit her and soon she was flying downward once more, into another buried catacomb of offices. Exiting at the appropriate floor, Nikita made a direct line for Michelle’s office, preventing a startled assistant from even informing her sister of her presence. Glancing up at the unexpected intrusion, Michelle started to rebuke the intruder, whom she believed to be her assistant, only to realize her error immediately. Surprised at her sister’s sudden appearance, Michelle allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts first by finishing her work, thereby also causing Nikita to have to wait as a reprimand for the intrusion. Once the file was closed, Michelle finally turned her attention to her sister and, with a sense of calm she did not feel, inquired as to Nikita’s visit. “I have something I would like you to take a look at,” Nikita replied, standing just inside the doorway. “You could have just forwarded it to me. Or left it with my assistant,” Michelle countered. Approaching the desk, Nikita stated, “It’s personal. A letter. From our father.” “What?” Granting herself permission to sit, Nikita placed herself opposite her sister and answered, “I received a time-delayed message from him last night. After reading over the message several times already I thought you might like to read it for yourself. I don’t know. Maybe you already know most of what’s in here, but I still thought you should see it.” Having said her peace, Nikita laid the disk in front of Michelle on the desk and rose. She paused briefly on her way out as Michelle called out to her. Without turning Nikita responded, “Yes?” “Thank you,” her sister whispered. “Your welcome,” she replied and left. Michelle watched her sister leave and wondered at the significance of this gesture. These last several months since their father’s death and the numerous transitions within the organization had not been easy for either of them, but neither had she nor Nikita made much of an attempt to bridge the gap between them either. For her own part, Michelle was not quite sure why she had never made any real effort to get to know her sister. Maybe part of her feared what Nikita would think of her. For years Michelle repeatedly listened as her father and others in the organization tout Nikita’s skills as an operative and it left Michelle feeling rather intimidated and inadequate. Undeniably, she was also resentful of her sister’s intrusion into her life and into the organization that was really the only family Michelle had ever known. While being a child of Center might not be the greatest life, it was still her life and she begrudged Nikita’s insertion into her world. Though in many ways, she supposed, Nikita probably had more of a right to be resentful of Michelle than she of Nikita. While neither of them had much of a choice about working for the organization, at least Michelle had not grown up on the streets scavenging for food, trying to take care of an alcoholic mother or suffering various other abuses. Their father might not have always been the most affectionate man, but at least Michelle had always felt safe with him. She had actually been surprised the last few months that Nikita had not behaved as acrimoniously as she could have towards her. While their exchanges always held an underlying sense of coldness, Nikita never failed to be exceedingly polite. Michelle guessed it to be the result of her sister’s training and experiences within Section and the cardinal rule to never show emotion. Still, now, to truly think about it, Michelle found the whole situation rather woeful. In reality, she and Nikita had greater reason to be united by their common circumstances rather than divided. Picking up the disk in front of her, Michelle wondered whether or not this disk might be the first step towards building a bridge between them. *** Nikita entered the café and scanned the space, checking for both anomalies as well as the person she was to be meeting. Satisfied with her findings, she made her way around the edge of the café and the small bar on the left to the back where she joined Michelle at a circular cafe table. Removing her coat, she laid it across the back of the chair and seated herself, placing her black shoulder bag on the floor in front of her. Focusing her attention on Michelle, Nikita greeted her with a fairly warm hello. Receiving the same in kind, the two women then sat quietly as they waited for the server, who appeared moments later to quickly take their order of two café lattes and then left to place the order. Since it had been Michelle who had called the meeting, Nikita waited for her to speak first as to why they were there. “Thank you for coming,” Michelle began. Intrigued, Nikita asked, “Did you think I wouldn’t?” “I don’t know,” she answered, “It was always a possibility.” “Well, I assumed you wanted to discuss the letter.” “Yes.” “I take it you read it then?” Nikita inquired. “Yes,” her sister replied, “Several times in fact. I was glad I did. There was a lot I didn’t know.” The look on Nikita’s face prompted Michelle to comment, “I take it you assumed I did.” “I guess…in the back of my mind I did. I don’t know. I guess I assumed…I don’t know what I assumed. That you had been observing me along with Father.” Shaking her head slightly in humorless amusement, Michelle stated, “Hardly. I don’t know if it was to protect me or an exorcise in training or a bit of both, but Father was hardly any more forthcoming with information for me than for you.” Laughing lightly Nikita responded, “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse.” Michelle smiled understandingly in response. Just then the server returned with their lattes and they spent the next several minutes preparing their drinks. When properly satisfied, they returned their attention back to the conversation at hand. “So,” Nikita queried, “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss with regards to the letter?” “Yes. Reading the letter got me thinking. About manipulations. Cause and effect. Destiny. Fate. And I realized how foolish it would be for us to not take the chance to become if not sisters, then at least friends. We’ve both already sacrificed so much to this place and I don’t know about you, but I have no desire to sacrifice anything else.” “No,” Nikita answered with an emotional whisper, “No, I don’t.” Smiling through a haze of tears she only now noticed, Michelle grabbed Nikita’s hand off the table and held it in her own. The first step had been taken and both had a feeling that things would become easier from now on. TWO September 2013 – present day The warm, mid-September evening created a perfect atmosphere in which to be outside and enjoy the restless sounds of the night creatures and shimmering stars above. Muted laughter and conversation could be heard through the sliding glass doors separating the house from the deck and inside the lights blazed in celebration. Outside, Nikita and Walter lounged on the cushioned deck chairs, sipping glasses of deep Merlot and watching the world drift by. In the peace of the evening, Walter paused a moment to study the woman lying next to him, casually taking in her relaxed appearance as she searched the sky above for constellations. He loved Nikita with all his heart and the events of today only made him more proud of her than ever before. For today marked her first one hundred days in office as Ms. Jones, head of C.I.I. and all sections under its command. He knew she never believed the day would come when she would fulfill her father’s last wish - to occupy the position he had originated so long ago. Nonetheless, four months ago she proved herself wrong when she left Oversight and officially became the head of C.I.I. Walter was just happy to be a witness to her success because he, better than most people, understood the difficult journey Nikita had traveled to reach her current position. In some ways, the journey had been worth it for her because she had indeed been able to make several of the changes she had greatly desired to enact over the years. Walter himself was one of the first to benefit from one of the most significant changes she implemented during her tenure in Section. In his case, he was part of Nikita’s pilot program that permitted operatives of a certain age to retire – retire in the employment sense of the word, not Section’s. For the last four years Walter had been free and clear of Section, granted permanent retirement status. There were certain conditions to be followed for security reasons, but for all intensive purposes operatives in the program were truly retired. However, never able to wander from the action for very long, Walter continued to work intermittently for the organization on a consultant-like basis. At a sudden touch on his hand Walter came out of his musings and smiled at Nikita, taking her hand in his and giving it a soft squeeze. “Hey there Sugar,” he exclaimed. “Hey there Walter,” Nikita affectionately replied. “What’s up? “Mmmm…not much. Just thinkin’.” “Yeah? What about?” “You.” “Oh real-ly,” Nikita questioned, exaggerating her ‘really’ in an amused tone. “Yes, really,” Walter mockingly replied in the same manner. Chuckling, she asked, “Anything good?” “Always,” he said with a sweet grin. “Walter, you’re too much sometimes,” she responded, chuckling again at the leering expression on his face. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years, Sugar.” Rolling her eyes, Nikita let out a strangled laugh while Walter laughed in earnest at their word play. Times like this reminded him of Nikita’s early days in Section, before her smiles became a rare commodity and life even more complicated. Sensing Walter’s nostalgic waxing, Nikita gave the hand still in her grasp a return squeeze and also smiled in fond remembrance of the good moments. Pulling her legs under her, she turned in her chair, head resting against the back of it, and focused on the world around her. She took a deep sip of wine and allowed herself to just observe everything, from the festivities inside to the evening activities of Mother Nature. Tonight was for celebrating and for the moment Nikita granted herself permission to enjoy it all. Continuing with their previous conversation, Walter commented, “Good night for remembering Sugar.” “Most definitely, Walter,” she softly agreed. “I’ve been doing a lot of that today.” “Oh yeah?” “Uh-hu…,” she acknowledged wordlessly. “What about?” “Oh this and that. Michelle. My father. You.” Cocking his head to the right to catch a glimpse of her he added, shrewdly, “Michael?” “Yesssss…,” she replied in a slightly exasperated tone, “Michael too.” “Any conclusions?” “No. Just remembering. Surprised at where I ended up.” “Having a hard time believing you’re here, huh,” Walter noted. Shaking her head at how well he knew her, Nikita answered, “Yeah. Sometimes it seems likely only yesterday I was brought in and other times…” “Other times?” he encouraged. “Other times it seems so long ago that it was a dream. Section. My father. Michael,” her voice breaking on Michael’s name, halting her words at the sudden emergence of old wounds not quite healed. Nikita closed her eyes in an attempt to ward off the onslaught of emotions his name evoked. Quickly placing his wine glass on the ground along side hers, Walter moved off his chair and seated himself next to her, wrapping his arms around the younger woman for comfort. He lightly rocked her through the episode, stroking the back of her head and clenching his arms tightly around her in support. After a few moments he felt her begin to relax as the memories subsided. Pulling back slightly from his embrace, Nikita whispered, “I’m sorry.” “Hush now, Sugar,” Walter admonished, “You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I would be offended if you didn’t get emotional on me now and again. Makes me feel all manly.” Giggling as she wiped away a few tears, Nikita sighed, “Sometimes it surprises me how tough it still is.” “It’s okay kiddo,” he advised, “He’s probably always going to affect you in some way. How could he not.” “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed, smiling softly, “I suppose that’s not a bad thing either.” “Absolutely not,” he affirmed, “Besides, when the memories do become too much for you just think of me in the buff and that’ll cheer you right up.” This time Nikita let out a full belly laugh at Walter’s antics, tears of amusement leaking from her eyes. Walter grinned back at her, pleased to have cheered her up a bit. Before they could continue their conversation further though, the glass door slid open and a little bundle of energy came whirling out onto the deck and tossed herself into Nikita’s arms. Giggling at the rambunctious three year old, Nikita looked down at her niece who was beaming the brightest smile back at her. “Aunt ‘Kita?” “Yes Isabel” “Whatcha doin’ out here?” the inquisitive child asked. “We were just talking.” “’Bout what?” Smiling at Isabel’s version of twenty questions, Nikita glanced at Walter for help and sighed dramatically when he shrugged his shoulders, indicating she was going to have to field this inquisition on her own. Giving Walter a dirty look, Nikita wondered if sometimes it would not be more effective to use Isabel against the terrorists in the White Room rather than their sophisticated equipment and drugs. When she put her mind to something, her niece could be scarier than Madeline ever was. Fortunately, Nikita received a stay of execution as the other members of the celebration poured out of the house and onto the deck. The three of them were joined by Michelle and her husband Jared and their other child, five year old Robert – or Robbie as he liked to be called, Jason and his girlfriend Maya, and finally Khalil and his boyfriend Nicholas. Noticing that not everyone had joined the group emigrating outside, Nikita inquired as to their whereabouts. “Kate is inside with Thomas reconfiguring Jared’s computer to do only God-knows-what and Stefan received a call a few minutes ago and disappeared somewhere inside the house to take it. Does that about cover it?” “Yes. Thank you for your thorough report, Michelle. I would like a copy of that on my desk by oh-seven-hundred-hours tomorrow.” Laughing at the banter between the two sisters, the newcomers gathered around Walter and Nikita, pulling up chairs and benches or grabbing a seat on the floor nearby. Pleasantly numb from a delicious dinner prepared by her brother-in-law and several nice glasses of wine in her system, Nikita laid back against the lounge chair once again, content to merely watch her loved ones around her as she rhythmically stroked Isabel’s silky, dark brown hair, their breathes rising and falling in sync. The soft chatterings of those around her filled the air, lulling Nikita into a peaceful state and she drifted back to her earlier conversation with Walter, focusing once again on where her journey had taken her. In spite of everything, she had gained so much most especially the people here at the house tonight, helping her celebrate her accomplishments not only of the last one hundred days but over the last eighteen years as well. None of which could have been accomplished without the support of those here tonight. “Someone apparently has the magic touch.” Hearing her sister’s voice, Nikita noticed that Michelle had switched places with Walter and now sat next to her on the lounge chair. Confused by her words Nikita gave her a questioning look. Michelle gestured with her head to Isabel, and Nikita glanced down to see that, indeed, Isabel had fallen asleep in her lap. “It’s a good thing I had her put her nightgown on first,” Michelle commented. “Yes,” Nikita agreed, “I guess she was more tired than she thought. But then, when is that new.” Michelle laughed softly seeing as her daughter had a reputation for vehemently fighting bedtime only to fall asleep within minutes of being put to bed. “Do you want me to take her?” “Absolutely not. She’s perfectly fine.” “Sooooo…,” Michelle began. Fixing her sister with a cautious stare, Nikita questioningly intoned, “Yes?” “I was watching you and Stefan tonight. Anything to report there?” she asked mischievously. Nikita just rolled her eyes in exasperation, having no desire to engage her sister in a battle of words over her love life, or lack there of, as Michelle loved to consistently point out. “No, Mi-chelle,” Nikita answered, dragging her sister’s name out as sign of irritation. “You know how Stefan is. Besides, I don’t think it would be a smart move at this point for the head of Center to date one of her subordinates at Oversight. Moreover, his friendship means too much to me.” “Pffff…,” Michelle huffed out, “Appearances-schmearances. I see how the two of you flirt with one another, Nik. If you like him, go for it.” In truth, Nikita had to admit that, from the beginning, the sexual chemistry sparked between Stefan and she. While she truly cherished her friendship with Stefan, especially since he was her first ally ever at Oversight, secretly, she found great pleasure in the subtle way they danced around one another - innuendo etched into their daily banter and casual touches filled with sensuality. Often forced to sublimate her sexual, feminine side due to the constraints of being in a male-dominated world, Nikita received great pleasure in Stefan’s appreciation of her as a woman. Under his heated gaze an intense level of arousal always stirred within her body, a pleasant reminder of the satisfaction one could receive from a mutually gratifying sexual relationship. Still, she had not allowed their friendship to advance beyond mild flirtation and yet, Nikita often questioned her motivations for doing so. Part of her told Michelle the truth; she truly did value Stefan’s friendship - too greatly to risk losing it for anything less. Nevertheless, there was another part of her that realized there was the potential for more with him, more than just sex compared with the few relationships she had had over the last several years. Yet, in a rather pathetic way, the idea of more felt like cheating to her. A small part of Nikita still believed that if she permitted another man into her heart completely, then any last, minutely remaining chance to be with Michael again would be lost. At that moment Jason chose to meander over to the two women and seat himself on the opposite lounge chair, beer in hand, and smiled charmingly at them, a devilish glint to his eyes, which tabled any further discussion of Nikita’s relationship with Stefan. Amused by the fact that in over twelve years Jason Crawford had barely changed one bit, Nikita raised an eyebrow at his standard seduction tactics and inquired skeptically, “Yes, Jason. Is there something we can help you with?” “Of course not darlin’,” he drawled, “I just wanted to see how the most beautiful woman to ever lead this organization was doing? Enjoying your celebration, Miz Jones?” Neither Michelle nor Nikita could contain their laughter at Jason’s theatrics as he sat there grinning back at them. “There now that’s what I love to see,” he replied, “You ladies laughing.” A gruff voice from behind Jason chided, “You hittin’ on my wife Mr. Crawford?” “Always,” Jason tossed out to the man standing behind his left should. Jared just laughed at Jason’s response, also unable to resist the younger man’s antics. With a sleepy Robert in his arms, Jared looked over to his wife and said, “I’m going to put Robbie to bed. Then I’ll come back for Izzy.” Michelle nodded her agreement, but stopped when Nikita protested. “No Jared. Don’t worry. I’ll bring Isabel up.” “Are you sure?” “Absolutely. It’s my privilege as an aunt.” Carefully rising with her niece in her arms, Nikita walked back into the kitchen with Jared and the two carried the children upstairs to bed. Passing Jared as he entered Robbie’s room, the first one on the right, Nikita crossed to the room cattycorner from her nephew’s and gently placed Isabel inside her canopy bed. Tucking her in tight under the covers, she pressed a kiss on her forehead and then turned on the crescent moon nightlight by the bed. Closing the door behind her, she returned to the hall where Jared was also leaving Robbie’s room. Just a step behind, she followed her brother-in-law back down the front staircase and into the main foyer. Slipping her arm though his, they made their way back to the kitchen where they slowly began cleaning up from the evening’s festivities. “Nikita,” Jared scolded, his faint Scottish brogue accenting the last syllable of her name, “You’re the guest of honor. You shouldn’t be cleaning up.” “It’s fine, Jared. I don’t mind.” “Well then, I’d appreciate the help.” “Good.” Silence reigned as the two worked side by side, efficiently putting away leftover food, filling up the dishwasher and piling the pans and dishes that would need to be hand washed by the sink. Soon the kitchen was in acceptable shape for the evening. Satisfied, Jared gestured for Nikita to sit down, informing her that the rest could wait until morning. Leaving the room for a moment, he returned with two snifter glasses and a bottle of Cointreau. Pouring a glass for each of them, he took a seat opposite Nikita at the kitchen table and raised his glass in salute. Acknowledging his gesture with her own salute, Nikita slowly sipped the fine liquor, allowing the rich flavor to coat her taste buds. Void of thought she swirled the dark liquid around her glass, watching the patterns it created. “So,” Jared finally spoke, “How do you feel after the first one hundred days, Madame Jones?” Assessing the question for a moment, Nikita looked across the table at her brother-in-law and replied, “Satisfied.” “Hmmm…satisfied. Well, I suppose that’s a good way to feel. You certainly deserve to.” “Thank you,” she responded humbly. “Yes…you are quite the leader my dear sister-in-law. Now, if we could only get you to work on that personal life of yours.” Narrowing her eyes in warning, she cautioned, “Don’t start with me Jared. I get enough of it from your wife. I have a personal life. Who do you think all these people here are?” Refusing to let the matter drop, Jared prepared to forge ahead, believing that it was in Nikita’s best interest. While there had been a concerted effort for years to encourage Nikita to at least be open to a long-term romantic relationship of some sort, those closest to her like Michelle, Walter and himself had recently increased their campaign efforts upon her return from San Francisco. Other than a brief conversation with Michelle after her return, Nikita never again spoke of the events regarding her trip to see Michael, leaving the three of them at a loss as to understand what truly happened there. The one thing that they could all see for themselves though was that Nikita had lost the little spark of hope that lived in the recesses of her soulful eyes. The one that encouraged her to hold out just a little longer because, in the end, she would be rewarded for her sacrifices. What none of them could figure out, however, was why. Based on what he knew of Michael and Nikita’s history, Jared found it impossibly difficult to believe that the man no longer loved her. In fact, Nikita had told him once in a moment of vulnerability that Michael himself had been the one to say there would be a time when his son would no longer need him and he would be free to return to her. So what changed? Why was Michael not here now with Nikita? And as for the woman in question, Jared believed the only thing holding Nikita back from pursuing the issue father was fear. She feared taking a chance and risking her heart one more time, which, given her past history, Jared could understand. However, Jared wished to change all that because he believed she deserved more. Life for Nikita was so different from twelve years ago - his own relationship with Michelle and their two children valid proof of those changes and the opportunities wrought, but still she remained closed off to making changes in her own life. Complicating matters further was the letter she had received from her father. Jared cursed the day his sister-in-law ever received that letter. Despite the fact that it fulfilled her need to know the truth about her past, it also cemented Nikita’s serious trepidations about pursuing a long-term relationship again. Jared guessed that, most likely, she subconsciously feared that she would bring Michael back into her life only to see him destroyed by it - just as her mother had been. Still, Jared refused to give up on making his sister-in-law accept that the possibility for a relationship existed. She just needed to rediscover her courage and take a chance on love again, as she had done so many years ago. “Nikita,” he reproached, using her name as a warning, “Don’t play this game with me. You know exactly what I mean.” Sighing in exasperation at her brother-in-law’s well-meaning intentions, Nikita raised her eyes from her snifter glass and pierced him with her glare. “Don’t Jared. Just don’t. Not tonight.” “Well then,” he countered forcefully, leaning towards her, elbows on the table top, “When? When should we discuss this Nikita because you never seemed to have the time to and I’m tired of hearing all the usual excuses.” Raising an eyebrow at his last words, she replied disbelievingly, “Really?” “Yes…Jesus, Nikita!” he exclaimed, slapping his palm against the top of the table in frustration, continuing, “Maybe you were right before. Maybe the timing wasn’t right and there was too much to do – Section, Oversight, Center. But what now Nik? You’re at the top. What other excuses do you have to keep yourself from happiness?” “Jared!” Nikita exclaimed furiously then stopped. Instead, she pushed herself forcefully away from the table, exiting the kitchen and crossing through the foyer into the formal living room. Attempting to collect herself so as to prevent herself from speaking in anger, Nikita sat on the piano bench in front of the grand piano to cool off. But granting her no reprieve, Jared doggedly pursued her into the living room, closing in on her personal space. Leaning close over her shoulder he informed her, “I’m not letting you off the hook Nikita. Not until you understand.” Whipping around so quickly that Jared barely had time to step back while maintaining his balance, Nikita glared at him, sparks flying in fury from her piercing blue eyes. In a hushed tone usually reserved for interrogations, Nikita bitingly exclaimed, “Understand what? Understand that I could take away Michael’s freedom…again? That I could barge in with my own needs and destroy the life he has built for himself? Is that what I am to understand, Ja-red?” With a tone that booked no refusal, Jared responded with equal force, “No! What you are to understand, Ni-ki-ta…is that all I want – that any of us want – is for you to be happy. I don’t know why that is so hard for you to see?” he questioned in a disbelieving tone, adding, “It’s time to let go of whatever fear you’re holding on to. If the problem is you think you and Michael are doomed to repeat your parent’s history, or even your own past history, you’re not. So much has changed. And if there’s something else, then whatever it is, it can be dealt with. Just let us help you.” “Maybe,” she conceded, continuing wearily, “But it doesn’t matter any more.” Saddened by her rather hopeless tone of voice, Jared reached out and placed his hand on her cheek in comfort and finally ventured to ask, “Nikita, what really happened during your trip? What aren’t you telling us?” “You mean why, after all these years, did I just let Michael walk away from me that day?” “Yes.” “His eyes,” she answered simply. Nikita smiled softly at the perplexed look on Jared’s face, but to her it all made sense. Continuing her explanation, she said, “I told Michelle that for those brief moments he recognized my presence and that I felt our connection as strong as ever. And it was true. Like not a day had gone by.” “I’m not sure I understand,” Jared commented. Closing her eyes in remembrance, Nikita clarified, “In Section, words could get you killed. It’s how the game was played. Hell, still played today. No matter how many changes for the good are made suspicion will always be a part of our business. It’s pretty much a given. But back then words were one of the deadliest weapons available. So we began to talk without words. A look or a touch could be more effective than a thousand unreliable words. And Michael and I had it down to an art.” Beginning to comprehend, Jared commented, “And that day felt that way again.” “Yes,” she answered fondly, “Even separated by half a park and twelve years, I knew what Michael was thinking. What he was feeling. And that’s why I had to let him go.” “I still don’t understand,” Jared replied. Focusing her attention on her brother-in-law again, Nikita revealed, “He wasn’t ready to come back. There was a moment’s hesitation in his eyes…and I saw it. So I did what I had to. I let him go.” Jared stood there, speechless, astounded by what he had just heard. He realized he had been completely erroneous in his judgment of Nikita – her inaction did not come from fear, but from great courage. To have such strength as to let the love of your life go not once, but twice in a lifetime required a core of courage he knew few people had. When Jared did not respond after awhile, Nikita amusedly inquired, “Cat got your tongue there?” “I…I…yeah, I guess it does,” he said in self-deprecation. Nikita just smiled at him. “Here I was so ready to fight this battle with you but I had it all wrong. I’m sorry Nikita.” “Don’t be,” she gently chided, “It’s not your fault. You were only looking out for my best interests and I appreciate it. ‘Sides, it’s not as if I was very forthcoming with the details either.” “Well, that’s true,” Jared readily agreed, making Nikita laugh. Grinning down at his sister-in-law Jared decided he was not quite finished with their discussion yet and asked her one more thing of her. “Nikita, I don’t doubt that you know Michael better than any of us could. And I’m sure what you saw that day was true. Maybe Michael isn’t ready to leave the life he’s built over the last twelve years, but will you do me one favor and consider something for me?” Warily she answered, “What?” “Consider talking to him. I mean really talking to him,” he said, emphasizing the ‘really’, “Maybe he wasn’t quite ready at that moment. I wouldn’t doubt it – to just jump back into a relationship from twelve years ago, who could? But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to at all. You owe it to both of yourselves to at least find out. Don’t you?” “I suppose so. I’m just not certain. Of any of it. ” “Will you at least think about it?” “Alright, I’ll think about it.” “Seriously?” he questioned. “Yes. Seriously.” Satisfied with her promise, Jared smiled and hugged her in appreciation. Figuring that a good deal of time had probably passed since they had left the others, Jared held out his hand to Nikita in a gesture of peace, which she accepted as such, and hand-in-hand they returned to the others out on the back deck. THREE Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, early morning glow over the space. A cool breeze floated in through the open windows, creating a nice cross ventilation to keep the room a comfortable temperature. The bed sheets rustled in protest as Nikita shifted about in her bed, lazily spending the morning lying about, thinking over her conversation last night with Jared as promised. Flopping on to her stomach, Nikita turned her head to the right and looked out over the expanse of woods laid out across the property. From her point of view she could just make out Jared and Isabel chatting on the back deck, no doubt waiting for Michelle to bring out breakfast. It pleased Nikita greatly to know that the house her father had left her and Michelle was now a home filled with the cheery sounds of children and the chaos of family life. Her own residence here in the renovated guesthouse served her as equally well. It had been the perfect solution for her when she left Section One and required a new residence. At first, Michelle had wanted her to move into the main house, but Nikita refused to intrude on her and Jared. Eventually, her sister accepted the guesthouse as a suitable compromise. Living here allowed Nikita her own private home, but still put her close enough to her family, giving her the best of both worlds. Her family, she thought. That was what this was really all about; her family’s concern for her well-being. She knew that they just wanted her to be happy and she was grateful for their love and concern. The question was what did she want? Did she even have the energy or the desire to take the risk again with Michael? What if she lost…could she survive the heartache one more time? And what about Michael? Was it really uncertainty she saw in his eyes that day? Or was she being a fool and misreading the message in his eyes? Thinking back to Jared’s words last night, she knew he was correct in saying that a great deal had changed in the last twelve years, but was it enough? After twelve years on the outside, could Michael return, even marginally, to this part of his life? God knew it would be wonderful to wake-up with him, by her side each morning, to hear his breathing beside her, to feel his warmth against her. Could things be better the second time around? Would there be less pain and desperation without Paul and Madeline lording over them? Nikita prayed for that to be true – for their relationship to be just that - their relationship – no longer subject to anyone’s manipulative machinations. Then too, what about her own mother and father? Were she and Michael doomed to repeat their history? Was she living a fool’s dream and that maybe it was time to let Michael go once and for all? Then there was Stefan. Deep in her heart Nikita knew that she could easily come to love Stefan and build a wonderful life with him. Not as she loved Michael, but Stefan made her happy. In him she found peace and contentment and she knew the feelings were mutual. All she had to do was reach out to him. Facetiously, Nikita wondered if she shouldn’t just ask Vates, the “great computer in the sky” for an answer. Frustrated, Nikita pushed back the covers and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Sighing heavily, she sat up and thought to herself, It could never be as simple as that. Realizing that despite what her family and friends had been incessantly telling her, bringing Michael back into her life was not as simple as just asking him nor was being with Stefan as simple as letting go of the past. She needed more time to think before coming to a decision. Nikita just hoped her family would understand. FOUR June 2013 Party chatter floated through the air as guests mixed and mingled throughout the expansive four bedroom home, shifting between the elegant rooms of the main floor and the elaborately lit back lawns. The rapidly cooling night wind blowing in off the Pacific caused a bit of a chill in the air, but no one seemed to mind on this otherwise perfect summer evening. Winding their way around the guests, the professional catering staff discreetly attended to everyone’s needs, ensuring that a glass never stayed empty or that a stray piece of trash remained. Outside, at the back of the house, white water-lilies brought in fresh that morning floated on the surface of the lit pool, and encircling the multi-tiered landscape were copper lanterns illuminated by tea light candles. A portable dance floor rested not too far from the stone-edge of the pool and at the far corner sat a four-piece Jazz band, softly playing a variety of traditional and contemporary Jazz tunes. In addition to the music, drinks and food, the party guest were treated to a breath-taking view of the valley below, the landscape blanked with towering trees indigenous to the Pacific coast, creating a lush green covering. Inside, guest were invited to indulge in a variety of delights, including a well stocked bar and crepe station in the dining room, a fortune teller in the lower level family room and endless platters of food carried around the house by servers. In the formal living room the melodic sounds of the beautiful, black grand piano competed for attention with the Jazz band outside as one of the hosts’ musician friends entertained his fellow guests with his vast songbook repertoire. Gathered around the instrument, the revelers sang loudly off-key, amusing themselves with their own surprising knowledge of the words and poor harmonization. Mixing with the scent of warm hors d’oeuvres and fine wine was the subtle scent of rich perfumes and even richer money. Wandering through the garden entrance on the side of the house, Michael released a deep breath as he stepped outside, relieved to be free of the overwhelming sights and sounds within the house. Glass of cabernet in hand, he strolled down past the dance floor and those relaxing poolside to the edge of the property, scanning the valley below, bathed in the last remnants of a spectacular sunset. Having little desire to be in attendance at all tonight, Michael had made the sacrifice for Victoria, the host and hostess being dear friends of hers. While Michael enjoyed spending time Alessandro and Miriam Gutierrez, he preferred to do so in a more intimate setting. The saving grace of the evening was that the design of the home allowed him to easily avoid being an active participant by sneaking off to corners such as the one he currently occupied. He would have preferred to have been at home, lounging out on the deck, listening to Ella or Louie and enjoying the remnants of the Hannah chardonnay he picked up that morning. While he may have opened himself up more to the pleasures of life over the last ten years, his tastes still remained relatively simple and elaborate gatherings such as these did not suit him. Taking a sip of his wine, he savored the bold, earthy flavor. His eyes unseeingly skimmed the landscape before him as his mind wandered back to the topic that had been plaguing his thoughts for the last two weeks – his conversation with Adam two Sundays ago. He had played and replayed Adam’s words carefully over and over in his head, weighing each argument precisely, as if choosing the best options for a profile he was creating. Uncertainty lived within him and Michael was no closer to answering the questions raised by his son now as he was two weeks ago. Then, in an act of supreme irony or a sign from Fate, a new melody interrupts his reverie as the throaty voice of the band’s singer captured his attention, her words drifting callously over his ears with stark familiarity. I got no time for the corner boys Down in the street making all that noise Or the girls out on the avenue 'Cause tonight I wanna be with you Tonight I'm gonna take that ride Across the river to the Jersey side Take my baby to the carnival And I'll take her on all the rides 'Cause down the shore everything's all right You and your baby on a Saturday night You know all my dreams come true When I'm walking down the street with you Sha la la la la la la Sha la la la la la la la la Sha la la la la la la la Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl Couples began filling the dance floor, the sultry sound permeating the air and bodies swaying in motion to an easy beat. Memories assailed Michael, transporting him back to a time and place he barely recognized any longer. You know she thrills me with all her charms When I'm wrapped up in my baby's arms My little girl gives me everything I know that some day she'll wear my ring So don't bother me man I ain't got no time I'm on my way to see that girl of mine 'Cause nothing matters in this whole wide world When you're in love with a Jersey girl Sha la la la la la la Sha la la la la la la la la Sha la la la la la la la Sha la la la I'm in love with a Jersey girl Closing his eyes, he allowed the music to wash over him, his mind blocking out all thoughts and distractions in favor of the sweet melody and the heady images of the woman the song invoked. I see you on the street and you look so tired I know that job you got leaves you so uninspired When I come by to take you out to eat You're lyin' all dressed up on the bed baby fast asleep Go in the bathroom and put your makeup on We're gonna take that little brat of yours and drop her off at your mom's I know a place where the dancing's free Now baby won't you come with me 'Cause down the shore everything's all right You and your baby on a Saturday night Nothing matters in this whole wide world When you're in love with a Jersey girl Quieting down to a whisper, the muted strains of the instruments could be heard just under the hushed voice of the singer humming the last ‘sha la la la la’s.’ Sha la la la la la la Sha la la la la la la la la While listening Michael flashbacked, not to the moment in time when this song played, but to his memories of the few times he was able to dance with the woman in his mind, recalling another soulful Jazz tune. This time being played in a restaurant lounge. His sense memory evoked the sensations of holding her warm body in his embrace as they swayed around the small dance floor, mission parameters complete, her silken hair brushing across his fingertips placed in the middle of her back, the soft, womanly smile that graced her countenance as her blue eyes sparkled back at him. Shifting again, his memories flashed to a time when no mission was involved, when he held her in his arms of his own free will, scared and uncertain from memory loss and the only thing grounding him was the woman timidly dancing with him at his pleading request. So lost in his past that when a warm pair of arms snuck up from behind him and wrapped around his waist, Michael had no clue that the feminine body pressed up against his back was not the woman in his mind - not until she spoke. “¿Que haces, querido?” Startled out of his memory-induced vision by the lilting voice, Michael jerked his body slightly in reaction, causing the woman behind him to laugh merrily. Turning in her embrace, he found Victoria smiling gaily back at him, an amused look in her light brown eyes. She then stepped closer and tightened her arms around his waist. “¿Te asusté?”she questioned, amused by the situation. Giving her a half-hearted look of annoyance, Michael replied, “Si. ¿No, es lo que quisiste?” “Claro que si, querido,” she laughingly answered. “Pues...,” she continued, “¿Por qué estas aquí solamente? ¿No te diviertes?” “Estoy bien. Simplemente necesité para irme afuera por un poco tiempo. Es todo.” Uncertain if his words were the truth, Victoria chose to overlook them for the time being. Taking his hand in hers, she lead Michael through the throng of revelers, winding their way across the stone patio and into the lower level of the house. Glancing back she noticed the questioning look on his face and answered, “Well, we’ve met our obligations as the dutiful friends, having spent time with our hosts, and seeing as I know how thrilled you were to come tonight,” pausing as Michael’s eyebrow raised in amusement at the last part of her sentence, she added, “I figured it would now be okay to make a graceful exit. If that’s alright with you of course.” Having entered the bedroom where the jackets and purses were being stored, Michael just shook his head in agreement as Victoria gathered her belongings. Hand-in-hand they made their way through the lower level to the upstairs, intending to say goodnight to their hosts for the evening. They found both Alessandro and his wife Miriam talking quietly in the study. “Knock, knock,” Victoria exclaimed as they entered the room. The couple paused in conversation at the interruption and smiled warmly when they realized who had entered. Stepping away from the window at the far end of the room where they stood, Alessandro and Miriam moved closer to the entrance where their friends waited. “Leaving so soon you two?” Alessandro inquired. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Victoria sighed, “Alan is being a terrible stick in the mud and insists we return home in time for the nightly news.” Chuckling at Victoria’s jest, Alessandro chidingly replied, “I don’t know why you continue to put up with this man Tori? What do you possibly see in him?” With a wink in Michael’s direction, she slyly commented, “Oh, he has his good points.” This time all four laughed at the playful banter between the two friends. Stepping in to give Michael a hug, Miriam declared, “Don’t listen to him Alan. Alessandro’s just jealous that you get to leave early and he is required to stay.” Michael smiled warmly at Miriam’s comment and gave her a parting hug. After shaking hands with Alessandro and waiting for the two women to finish their good-byes, Michael exited the house with Victoria, gave their ticket to the valet attendant, and then waited for his Mercedes to be brought around. The attendant pulled up several minutes later. Michael held the door open and waited for Victoria to settle in then made his way around the front of the car, tipped the attendant and slide into the driver’s seat. Buckling in, he threw the car into drive and took off, heading down the winding hills of Marin County for home. Silence filled the car for a while both passengers content to enjoy the peaceful drive down the winding roads leading back to the city. Pale moonlight reflected softly off the windshield, casting a hazy glow inside the car. Houses and landscape whooshed by as Michael expertly maneuvered the luxury vehicle down the familiar roads. Always curious as to her lover’s thoughts, Victoria shifted imperceptibly in her seat so that she could observe Michael from a better angle. After almost three years together, she still often found his moods difficult to read and tonight was no exception. She had gathered that something serious weighed on his mind, but his expression did not bear the familiar look of worry for work or Adam. No, tonight Victoria sensed this was something else entirely. Resting her hand on his right knee, Victoria quietly inquired, “Is everything alright Alan?” calling Michael by the name he taken on, for security purposes, after leaving Section. “Of course.” Ah, Victoria thought to herself, An ‘of course’ as a response. This must be serious seeing as those are reserved for when he is either extremely angry or extremely worried. “Uh-huh,” she replied, disbelief evident in her voice. Chancing a quick glance in her direction, Michael could only faintly make out her expression in the moonlight and from the look of it she was not going to drop this conversation easily. While he appreciated her concern and knew it was only because she loved him this was, obviously, not a topic he could discuss with her. His attention turned back to the road ahead he reiterated, “Everything is fine Victoria. Just tired.” “Well, I’m pretty sure it isn’t work. And it can’t be Adam since he is backpacking with his friends in South America. So that leaves…,” she trailed off, hoping Michael would fill in the blank. “That leaves nothing, Tori. You’re imagining things. It’s that artistic mind of yours,” he teased, “Your need to invent fantastic scenarios.” Shooting him a look lacking in amusement, Victoria refused to change the conversation. If left alone for too long she had found that Michael was prone to brooding and the best way to preclude one was to prevent it from happening. He always became so closed off during those times and she often found herself at a complete loss as for what to do. “Alan,” she chided gently, “Querido, I know there is something weighing on your mind. Puedo mirarlo en tus ojos. ¿Por que no puedes decírmelo?” “No es nada,” he countered, “Te preocupas demasiado.” “Ugh!” Victoria cried in frustration, replying, “¿No voy a cambiar de opinión, verdad?” “No es necesario, mi amor. No hay nada para cambiar.” Michael hated lying to Victoria, but there was nothing to be done and the sooner he could convince her nothing was wrong, the better it would be for both of them. Nikita’s visit and his conversation with Adam were leading him down a path he had long believed cut off. In truth, that still might be the case, but until two weeks ago he had also begun to believe that he was never going to see her again, despite his parting words to her years ago in the train station. So now that one of his certitudes had been disproved, what about the other one? Was it finally time to be with Nikita again? And was that what he still desired?