"You're not afraid to die, are you Michael?"

"No. You've seen to that."

Madeline's words echoed mockingly in his brain as he stood with his back braced against the wall outside the door that led to the end of his life. Michael had run this scenario in his mind so many times that he couldn't keep count anymore. Affection rose fleetingly as he treasured Walter's generous attempt to save him. Michael could feel Walter's shocked exasperation as he had turned away, refusing to accept his gift of life.

Life... what was it to be without her love? A sham.

He could never go back to the way he was. That way lay pain too unspeakable to bear.

Michael intended to die.

Bitter bile rose in his throat as his body began its countdown to death. He prayed he wouldn't disgrace himself in the final moment. His stomach churned, his muscles tensed, yet his face remained incredibly composed. His inner being became like liquid mercury, held in check only by its container. Michael's eyes poured out sadness, deeper than any he had ever felt. Was this what he had saved her for? Was this what his soul had been reborn for? To this end had he risked his life again and again?

She was alive, he was dead...

He was alive, she was dead...

They were both alive...

They were both dead... What did it matter?

Michael was tired. His heart had dissolved when Nikita had spoken the words sentencing him to cancellation. The nothingness behind her eyes was beyond the limit of his tolerance. He had cried for her, wept for them... she would never know. He was running on empty. Michael's knees buckled in a fleeting moment of weakness as he allowed himself to say goodbye to all those he had held dear in his life... his sister, his parents, Rene, Simone, Elena, Adam, Nikita...

Nikita...

"I'm at the door." His words trembled, out of control.

Michael felt his breath compressing in his chest as he heard Jason's voice in his ear.

"You've got a final mark."

He hadn't wanted to give Madeline the satisfaction of knowing. He was afraid to die, even though he had spent most of the last eleven years convincing himself that his life didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things... that he was just another radical college student, just another murderer in the name of justice, just another man turned animal, hunting his fellow humans as they turned against each other in the name of greed, hate, evil...

Until she arrived. A hundred images of Nikita as he had known her passed through him at the speed of light. The emotions were too profound to be allowed to escape. They were his to cherish forever. And forever was about to begin.

"Okay, Michael. We detonate in fifty seconds... Go."

Jason's directive forced his body into action. Michael pushed the button activating the counter that transformed him into a human explosive. He poised his weapon as he turned and swept through the door. The seconds ticked down...

What did it matter? He only lived to die.

As he spun around, he found himself surrounded by motionless bodies, a current of fresh air flowing into the room. A spectre of Nikita stood across the space from him. Michael closed his eyes and shook his head imperceptibly to dispel the apparition.

I'm hallucinating. Really losing it now...

Her luminous face moved closer and closer, her eyes invisible behind her dark glasses. Her voice penetrated his stunned psyche.

"I thought someone should use Walter's little bag of tricks." Casual. As if she were giving him the time of day. He felt sick.

Michael stood immobilized as her hands unbuckled his vest and pushed it back over his shoulders, letting it drop unheeded to the floor. He vaguely registered her next instruction.

"Let's go."

Michael watched as Nikita dove through the hole in the wall. All his survival instincts kicked in as his legs began to run, following her through the opening, no longer able to think or feel anything. They crawled out into the sunlight and ran into the woods.

This was wrong. Sunlight where darkness should have been. Wasn't it past time to die?

They stopped running and paused in the green dappled glade. So much life force surrounded them. The irony slapped him into consciousness. Michael looked at Nikita as she stood sideways to him, but her eyes were shielded behind impenetrable lenses, her face a perfect blank stare. It was like looking in a mirror.

When did she become me? When did I become her?

There could be no hope, but he had to try. He cursed his noble soul.

"Why did you break protocol?"

Her profile spoke. "Wasn't ready to see you die."

He looked at her. A sliver of dread shot through him. He willed himself to speak.

"Are you out?" They could vaporize into the void.

"No. I gotta get back." She turned toward him, searing him with her proximity. "But you can make it." A field router materialized in her hand. "This'll jam their frequency long enough to get you get out of the hemisphere." She placed it lightly in his palm as her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Take it."

Nikita put her hands behind her in a military stance. Michael pushed down the nauseating feeling growing inside him.

"What about you?"

"I'll be all right. I've got a card to play. They owe me this one." So matter-of-fact. Her expression was almost pleasant.

A glimmer of hope flared. God help him. He wanted her still. His voice was extraordinarily gentle, his half-whisper betraying the depth of his emotion.

"Come with me."

There. He'd executed his last gambit.

Nikita's face went blank as she looked away. "I can't."

Oh God. So dead. His eyes pleaded with the sky as he made his decision. Michael delicately lifted Nikita's glasses and rested them on top of her head. He searched her face for a sign of the woman he loved. He had to know.

"Is that what you want?"

She refused to look at him. Her lips parted as she drew breath.

"I don't love you."

His life disintegrated as at last her wide pale eyes moved over his face as if in wonder of a revelation.

"I never did." Her dispassionate detachment slashed every artery.

For a moment Nikita looked as though she would cry. The look faded to...

Michael's heart stopped. He had given all he had to give. Tears rimmed his eyes.

Michael's body began to disappear. This must be what it's like, he thought, first the blood begins to drain, then the numbness, then unconsciousness, then merciful death. How can you kill someone who's already dead?

His hand found his knife. His eyes bored into hers, never breaking their connection for even a split second, as he cut his face, letting the lifeblood that was already welling inwardly begin to seep out. He couldn't tear his gaze away, wanting to see her face right up to the moment that he drew his last breath.

Nikita's lips parted again, her eyes spellbound by his ultimate tear, some emotion showing in her face at last. She was genuinely stunned by the pain in his eyes.

Michael felt the hot rivulet of blood turn cool as it slowly snaked over his cheek. Dying would be easy compared to the pain of her confession ripping his heart from him. His hand blindly sought hers as he calmly returned the field router to her disbelieving grasp. Truly, he loved her.

Now.

A last look into her eyes that were not her eyes.

Michael stepped around Nikita and walked serenely into the woods. He would lay down as the beasts did, to die with as much dignity as was left to him after the ravages of fortune carved their deep cleft. He smiled to himself as he held his head high.

Truth had been his enemy.

Love had been his undoing.

Death would be his saving grace.

His soul soared.

FIN