Prologue

Nikita crept cautiously down the darkened hallway, her fingers comfortably attached to her Beretta. Suddenly, a firm hand landed on her shoulder, effectively stopping her progress.

Nikita turned her questioning blue eyes to the man behind her. He jerked his head up and Nikita followed his line of sight to discover the motion sensor which was just above them. Had she taken another step forward, she would have activated the alarm system. Keeping his grip on Nikita, the man nonchalantly reached up to place the microchip next to the sensor. Once the sensor had been deactivated, the man released her, giving the blonde a gentle shove forward.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

They continued their route to their intended destination without anymore anomalies.

"Michael," Birkoff's voice spoke to them via comlink, "I need a visual on your surroundings."

Michael glided his fingers briskly up Nikita's thigh, to reach the small knapsack that hung at her hip. Taking out tinted specs, he activated the video cam and gently placed the glasses on to Nikita's face.

"Okay, Nikita, " said Birkoff, "there's a computer terminal to the left of you. Input sequence, " he directed her.

A guard entered the doorway. Michael shot him without a blink, while Nikita continued working. The gunfire didn't faze her, she trusted Michael to keep watch over them.

"Birkoff, we've been detected, " he informed the cyber whiz.

"It's okay, we only need five minutes to download, " Birkoff assured him.

"Proceeding to set charges, " intoned Michael. He glanced at Nikita, then proceeded to Garrison's Chamber.

Dr. Lance Garrison was a German physicist who had found a way past the time continuum barrier and created what could only be classified as a "time machine." Unfortunately, Garrison was also a camaraderie of Red Cell. Section had to destroy the chamber, but not before taking all of Garrison's studies so they could reconstruct their own time machine. Afterall, why let such beneficial Intel go to waste? He set the charges against the wall of the chamber.

"Michael, could you get me a visual of the chamber's interior?" queried Birkoff.

"Nikita, " said Michael, poking his head out of the chamber door, since she had the video cam. He motioned for her to enter in his usual quiet, but autocratic manner.

Nikita stepped through the chamber door slowly, her cerulean eyes widening in astonishment at the silver pools which served as the chamber's walls. She reached out to touch a pool, and the silver rippled at her touch. She took a step forward, and the sound of her boot connecting with the metal net floor reverberated throughout the chamber. Gazing at the mirror ceiling, she saw the reflection of her and Michael oscillate above them.

Michael watched Nikita, his face a blank slate. But inside, he was relishing the sight before him. Her expression of innocent, unbridled awe never ceased to amuse him.

"Okay, " Birkoff's matter-of-fact voice broke the moment. "That's enough, Nikita."

Michael started toward her, but froze midstep. A sudden lurching feeling passed over him, and his head began spinning. Images spiraled in front of his green eyes. Michael clutched his forehead. Something was very wrong, and Michael knew he had to get Nikita out of the chamber as soon as possible.

* * * *

"Michael?" Nikita's concern was clearly reflected in her voice. She reached out to steady him, but Michael grasped her shoulders and set her away from him.

"I'm fine, " he grunted. "Get back out there and keep a look-out for Red Cell."

"What about you?" Nikita was becoming alarmed at the sight of Michael. He was deathly pale, and starting to shiver.

Michael grimaced as another wave of nausea hit him.

"Go, " he said more forcefully. When Nikita refused to budge, he gripped her upper arms and dragged her to the chamber door.

"Michael, please, let me help you!" Nikita pleaded.

Michael didn't answer. Instead, he proceeded to shove Nikita out of the chamber and slam the door shut in her face.

"Michael!" Nikita yelled, pounding on the chamber door. She watched in horror as he collapsed in the middle of the chamber, and the mystical walls metamorphosed into one living, moving creature that completely enveloped Michael with its silver body.

* * * *

Tunnel of time so clear before me
So far from reach, I stretch my arm
To incarnate my yearning for you

But you dissolve at my touch
And I close my eyes.
Time no longer exists for us to toy with
It remains only in our minds.

Michael screamed in agony as he felt his brain split in two. He tried opening his eyelids, but then realized that he was no longer in control of his body. He was no longer IN his body. Fear gripped him right then. For the first time in years, Michael was terrified. Just when he thought the pain would never end, that he was doomed to exist in hell for all eternity, . . . he awakened.

* * * *

Part 1

"Jervais Tholomyes, leader of a terrorist group known as 'Enfants Perdus,' has been sighted in Lyons, France, " explained Operations. "The deal is set to go down at this location. We are to intercept Jervais and his contact. The contact is disposable. Jervais is not. You have two hours to prepare. Go."

Michael blinked. Of all the places in time that he thought he would have ended up in, the middle of a briefing was not a destination he had expected. However, he quickly regained his composure and forced himself to orient himself to the current environment. He grimaced as the last remnants of pain struck him, then dissolved away. Michael felt beyond peculiar. Ever since he had set foot into that chamber, he had felt another force take over his body. The walls, he thought. What was it about those walls that had made him a prisoner to time?

Another thought immediately struck Michael. Nikita. She was all alone in the compound now, with no back-up, he realized. Suppose she stayed behind to attempt to get him out of the chamber? What if Red Cell found her? Michael swallowed hard. What if she refused to leave the compound without him? The explosives were due to go off in ten minutes. Michael looked down at his watch, and was semi-startled to see a grotesque contraption of advanced technology strapped to his wrist. Whatever it was, it didn't tell time.

"Michael?" Operations stern voice interrupted Michael's worries. "What are you waiting for?"

Michael gathered himself and managed to display his patented blank stare. "Nothing, I was just thinking about the mission, " he answered.

"Well, go think about it in your office, " said Operations, "this briefing is over."

"Of course, " said Michael getting up to leave.

* * * *

After a quick scan about the Section, it became clear to Michael that he had traveled into the future. Just how far into the future, was the question. Michael cautiously strolled up to Birkoff. He was cautious because after eyeing all the computer components that protruded from the kid's body, Michael was unsure if Birkoff was still human. Michael also noted that Birkoff still had the appearance of a teenage computer geek. He hadn't matured at all with time.

"Do you need something?" Birkoff asked Michael.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. At least the kid's voice wasn't metallic like a robot. On the other hand, Birkoff was always pretty monotone. . .

"Yes, " said Michael, in a perfectly serious tone. "I need you to pull up a file for me."

He glanced at the upper left hand corner of the monitor and saw the current date. The year was 2012. "Merde!" he thought.

"Which file, " asked Birkoff, still typing away at his keyboard, which was shaped like a triangle.

"Nikita's psych profile, " said Michael.

"Sorry, " said Birkoff, "Section operatives no longer have access to those files."

"Birkoff, " Michael put on his most menacing tone and expression. "Just do it. " Michael waited anxiously, he was bluffing all the way. Hopefully the kid still had an innate fear of him.

"I am programmed to reject any requests by operatives for favors, " said Birkoff. "I cannot help you, " he intoned, almost regretfully. "Sorry. "

"Fine, " said Michael. He glanced once more around Birkoff's counsel, his ever observant eyes memorizing the new technology. Something was missing. Michael frowned. There wasn't any junkfood scattered about. Not a single Oreo was in sight. Section must have totally transformed Birkoff into a . . . cyborg?

Michael turned on his heel and began strolling down Section's hallways at a hurried speed. He had to find Nikita. He had to know if she had survived Section for the past fourteen years.

Michael squinted his green eyes as he walked swiftly down the hallway. The operatives that were coming toward him were blending into a moving wall of color. He shook his head to dismiss the feeling of dizziness that was coming over him. He looked down at his black shoes. His eyes were out of focus, so his shoes now looked like two black splotches against a streaming river of . . . silver. The silver walls were back to get him, Michael thought, fear gripping him once again. The walls had taken control of his body again. He wanted to stop walking, but he couldn't. Down the silver hallway he walked,like a mechanical toy soldier that had been wound up.

Suddenly a soft, blue body flung itself against him, and Michael's senses were flooded with the scents of sandalwood and jasmine. The walls relinquished control of his body back to Michael, and he reached up with one shaky hand to stroke the wavy gold sphere beneath him. Silky strands filled his hand, overflowing out of his fist. Michael breathed in deeply. He knew her fragrance all too well. It could only be Nikita.

The fog which had swirled around him lifted away to reveal a very beautiful and adorable, softer version of Nikita snuggled up against his side. Clear cerulean eyes peeked up from where her face had been burrowed against his chest, and Michael saw pure happiness shining from them. Too soon, she stepped away from him, and Michael instantly began to miss her sweet softness against him.

His need to be cuddled was quickly sated however, when another bundle of softness came bounding toward him and sprung into his arms.

"Daddy!" a little a girl of about seven, wiggled with excitement in the arms of a very stunned Michael.

"Evvie, settle down, " Nikita admonished the girl.

"Guess what! " the little girl squealed with delight and pride. "I won the spelling bee at school today. I spelled the word reconnaissance right! The teacher was so surprised, because that's a fifth grade word, and I'm only in first grade! I told her that my daddy taught me how to spell big words like that, " she said, gazing up at Michael with blue-green eyes that were filled with admiration of him.

Michael just stared at her in complete shock for a moment before coming to his senses. "I'm glad you had such a good day at school, " he said quietly, quickly realizing that he had jumped time spheres again.

"And how was your day at the gallery? " asked Nikita, reaching out to undo his tie.

Michael glanced down at the tie. Strange, it wasn't black.

"It went well, " said Michael, still a little dazed. "How was your day?"

"I finally finished that painting that I've been working on the past few months, " answered Nikita. Michael detected a glimmer of sadness in her tone. Her eyes flooded with bittersweet memories, and for once, Michael allowed himself to act upon instinct, wrapping an arm around her waist to comfort her. He gently stroked her through her silk blue dress.

Nikita smiled at the caress.

"Come on, " she said, "let me show you."

Michael, still cradling Evvie, followed her. He glanced about the apartment, taking in the vivid colors and warmth which emanated from the family atmosphere that was created by the decor. It was so real, yet Michael refused to trust his eyes.

Garrison's time machine was not really a time machine he realized. It was more of an advanced simulator. What he was seeing now, Michael reasoned, could only be a simulation of a possible destiny. He had to find a way back into the real world. The charges were set for ten minutes. If his didn't return to his body within that time frame, he would be blown up. And if Nikita stayed behind to try and help him, she would perish as well. Michael glanced at his watch. It had to have been more than ten minutes, he thought, unless Garrison's chamber slowed time. Michael knew his real body was still alive. A bizarre thought struck him just then. What if Garrison had invented the ultimate instrument of torture? A machine that sucked the soul from the human body and toyed with it for all eternity. . . Torturing the victim by bombarding him or her with the numerous possibilities of a life in the future, a life one could never have? Michael shuddered and prayed that Nikita would get him out of the chamber in time before the charges went off.

**********

Nikita led Michael, who was holding Evvie, into her art studio, an airy room filled with half-finished sculptures and paintings. Blotches of paint littered the area in a haphazard manner, giving one the feeling of walking on top of a rainbow that had exploded. Nikita paused in front of an easel, and gave Michael a little smile, before she drew back the canvas to reveal a startling work of art that immediately caused Michael's heart to ache with the weight of despondent memories.

The painting was done in shades of black, white, and gray that was blurred in various areas. It depicted a lonely candle in the center of the canvas. The candle had no flame. Instead, intricate lines of smoke arose from the unlit wick and swirled into an array of portraits an images. Operations, Madeleine, Birkoff, Walter, and several other operatives from Section were all included in this remorseful smoke etching. Michael felt a drop of liquid slide down his cheek. It was a peculiar feeling to him, a man who seldom cried. He couldn't control himself now. Nikita's painting had invoked too many memories, too many long-buried emotions that needed to be externalized.

"Mommy?" asked Evvie, "who are these people?"

"Friends, " answered Nikita in a soft voice, "friends I had a long time ago, before you were born."

Michael choked back a sob. He struggled desperately to maintain control of his emotions.

"I don't get it, " complained Evvie, "why did you paint your friends like that? And why aren't they smiling?"

"Well, darling" said Nikita, "if you look toward the top part of the painting you'll see a hand that has a burning match."

Nikita picked up a box of matches, took one out and lit it. Moving to a corner table that held several scented candles, she lit one, then blew the light out. She held the burning match in the white smoke that rose from the wick, and a jet of flame shot down to the wick, relighting it.

Evvie scrambled out of her father's arms and ran to gape at her mother with wide eyes.

"Mommy, how did you do that?" she whispered, "Do you know magic?"

"No, " said Nikita, laughing lightly, "you see, Evvie, after the flame is blown out, vapour is produced in the form of smoke. When a lit match is held into this smoke, which is combustible, a jet of fire shoots down to relight the wick."

Nikita patted her daughter's head, and her mood became more serious as her eyes took on a faraway look.

"My friends were once like this candle. All they needed was a burning match to become light again in their world of darkness, " she said quietly, her eyes making contact with Michael's.

Evvie seemed to ponder this bit of information as she laid her head on Nikita's stomach.

"Mommy, " she murmured after a moment, "why is Daddy crying?"

"Evvie, why don't you go to your room and get started on your homework, " Nikita quickly suggested.

"But Mommy, what about Daddy? " ask Evvie, truly concerned.

"I'll take of Daddy, " Nikita promised, "Now do as I say. "

Evvie obeyed, but before she left the studio, she gave Michael a fierce hug. "Whatever's making you sad, Mommy will make you feel better, " she told him, confident of her mother's nurturing abilities.

After Evvie had left, Nikita took Michael's hand in hers and led him to a small couch. He say down beside her without protest.

"Tell me what happened to them, " he said in quiet voice, his eyes staring at her painting.

Nikita sighed a sigh of mother who had been asked to retell a fairy tale for the hundredth time. Only thing was, Section was no fairy tale.

"Adrian took over the Agency, " she began, squeezing Michael's hand when she felt him tense at these words.

"I defied Operations' orders and helped Adrian oust him from power. Operations tried to cancel me, but you saved my life, " she said, looking into Michael's eyes. He stared back at her blankly.

"With Adrian in power, " she continued, "the number of innocent casualties was reduced dramatically, and missions were designed with the safety of operatives in mind. We've become more like the CIA in a sense, with a shady set of morals, and the public to answer to for any unjust actions on our part."

"The public, " Michael echoed.

"Yes, " said Nikita, " we're no longer the most covert anti-terrorist operation on the planet. The people know we exist, but they don't know who we are. Our neighbors think we're Mr. and Mrs. Samuelle, free-lance artist and gallery owner."

"And Evvie? " questioned Michael.

"She doesn't know the whole truth, " said Nikita. "She doesn't need to know until she's older."

"So we still work for Section, " intoned Michael.

"No, " said Nikita, "We're cold ops, but we work under the Agency. Section is no more."

"What about the others, " said Michael nodding at her painting.

Nikita shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes. She didn't want to talk about it, but Michael looked at her, patiently waiting for the answer, and she knew he would wait all the night if he had to.

"Adrian had Operations and Madeleine cancelled, " Nikita managed to tell him, although she started trembling.

Michael masaged her back in an attempt to calm her done. Then his hand drifted up to gently rub her shoulder. He lifted her hair from her neck to stroke the back of neck. It was a caress from a time long ago he hoped they had still shared in this universe.

"Go on, " he told her.

"Birkoff's still alive, " she said, "but ever since I betrayed Operations, our friendship's never been the same. Walter died a year ago when Red Cell seized the Directory. He was tortured in his own apartment before dying a long and painful death, . . alone. Red Cell killed more than a fourth of our operatives during the ensuing war."

Michael placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her into an embrace. He held her there as she cried, and for once, he let go and cried with her.

*********

Like a cat
dragged in from the rain
who goes straight back out
to do it all over again
I'll be back for more
it's something
that is out of your hands
something we will never understand
it's a hidden law
the apple falls
destiny calls
I follow you

("The Bottom Line" Depeche Mode)

Michael's eyes grew hazy. At first he thought it was the tears, but then he realized the silver walls were back. He was jumping to another destiny. He tightened his embrace around Nikita, not wanting to lose her, but she dissolved in his arms. And he was left alone again.

He rose groggily up from a sleeping position, stumbling forward. A heavy barrier stood in the way of his feet, and he toppled over it, lurching forward. Upon hitting the ground, a sharp pain throbbed his head. Michael slowly pulled himself up, and turned to see what he had tripped over.

What his eyes saw shook him to the core. Smashed computer monitors, dead operatives, a mosaic of blood and bullets. He was in Section. Section hell. What an oxymoron he thought, nearly giggling. He was too tired to be rational. Too tired of jumping universes. He just wanted to . . .

Michael laid a hand on the body that lay crumpled on the ground. Isn't it bad luck to trip over a dead body? he mused, this time giggling aloud for real. He turned the body over. His giggles stopped as an all too familiar face came into view. Stark green eyes and wild brown hair on a face that still had his patented blank stare plastered on, even in death.

. . . he just wanted to die.

***********

The sickness - the nausea -
The pitiless pain --
Have ceased with the fever
That maddened my brain --
With the fever called "Living"
That burned in my brain.

(Edgar Allan Poe)

Michael wandered the halls of Section, the screams of tortured, dying operatives pounding his already throbbing ear drums. He saw Walter bent at his work table, a nasty knife embedded in his feeble back. He saw Operations gasping his last breaths of air as he held a deceased Madeleine in his arms. Birkoff lay slumped over his keyboard, his tinted specs broken, and his boyish face frozen in an expression of utter disbelief. Disbelief that the once invincible Section had been overcome by Red Cell.

Michael passed by his darkened office. His blinds had been pulled up, so he could see the mangled interior. Gazing into this window, he could see the reflection of what lay behind him. But his own face did not appear. He truly was dead.

So this is my life after death, thought Michael. My hell is to walk the earth as a Section ghost for all eternity.

He took this revelation impassively. Michael had always known he had to be punished for his crimes against humanity. He accepted this fate, because he knew he deserved it.

A low, anguished scream jolted him from this reverie, and Michael spun on his heel. *Nikita.* He raced to the source of her scream, ending up in one of Section's white rooms. Five Red Cell operatives surrounded the blonde, who hung suspended from a metal bar that she was handcuffed to. The majority of her blood stained clothes had been ripped off, and her pale skin was exposed to the leering gazes of the men.

White hot rage pulsed through Michael's veins as he stormed into the room in a fury. The man nearest him reached out to grope the blonde, but Michael delivered a swift punch to his face. But his hand never connected with the enemy. The weirdest sensation came over Michael just then, as his whole arm plowed straight through the Red Cell operative's upper body. The enemy stopped, his hand just grazing the top of Nikita's breasts.

"What's wrong, " queried one of the men. "Are they fake?"

"No, " said the Red Cell operative, "I just feel a little dizzy. It's been a long day of liquidation."

They laughed.

The leader stroked Nikita's cheek.

"What a beauty in the midst of all this carnage, " he commented. "It would be such a shame to waste your body away. Perhaps we should take you back with us. I'm sure we can make use of your resources, " he sneered at her, his hand coming up to grope between her legs.

Nikita spat at him, and he responded with a vicious back hand that split her lip. Michael jumped in front of Nikita, desperately trying to shield her frail body from the men's ensuing blows. But even as the torrent of punches and kicks rained down on him, he never felt a thing. Their arms and legs passed right through him, and he felt Nikita convulsing in pain. He vicariously experienced the agony of internal organs exploding, delicate bones breaking, and excruciating pain, . . . through his love, Nikita. And he cried because he could do nothing for her.

Suddenly they stopped, and backed slowly away from the blonde's limp body.

"This girl is being protected by a higher being, " declared their leader.

The men nodded their agreement, and their eyes widened in fright.

"We risk being cursed for life if we kill her, " said the leader, "We should just leave her as is. Let's go. "

They left the room.

Michael laid his hand on Nikita's cheek and was surprised when it didn't go through. However, Nikita's quick intake of breath caused him to take his hand off her.

"So cold, " she murmured. "Michael . . . "

"I'm here, " Michael whispered, cradling her broken body in his arms.

"Where are you? " she sobbed. "I don't want to die alone."

"I'm here!" Michael shouted, "I'm here, my love."

Nikita cried out as a flash of pain struck her, and Michael pressed his lips to her temple, waiting until her cries were reduced to tremors.

"I love you, Nikita, " he told her, streams of tears pouring down his face.

She whimpered, and he held her tight as she convulsed one last time. Her stark blue eyes flew open, and she spoke her last words.

"I love you, " she whispered, " Michael . . . "

His name died on her lips, and the light in her eyes faded away like the last gleam of the sun's rays at sunset.

"Nikita, " Michael whispered. She didn't respond.

Michael threw back his head and screamed, one last animalistic cry of agony and despair over the death of his love. His love who would go straight to heaven, while he roamed the earth forever

. . . without her.

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

Nikita Samuelle was roused from a deep sleep by an insistent pounding on her back. She turned around to face her agitated bed mate, only to be elbowed harshly in the face. Michael writhed in terror beside her, his limbs flailing desperately about.

"Michael, " she soothed him in a steady, trained voice that was used frequently to draw him out of his violent trances.

"Wake up, Michael, " she said in a stronger voice, climbing on top of his shaking body and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

His tormented body eventually ceased convulsing and went limp beneath her. She tenderly brushed back a damp lock of brown hair from his flushed face and waited for his eyes to open.

"Where am I, " he demanded in a hoarse voice.

Nikita sighed tiredly and cupped his face in her hands.

"You're home, Michael, " she assured him. "You just had another nightmare."

"No, " he groaned, "I'm living a nightmare, and I can't escape it."

Nikita sighed and continued to gently caress his cheek, calming him .

"Mommy?" a small voice called out from the dimly lit doorway.

"Yes, Evvie?" Nikita answered back softly, "Did we wake you?"

The girl nodded. "Did Daddy have another bad dream?"

"Yes darling, " said Nikita, "But he's alright now. Go back to bed."

"No, " said Evvie stubbornly, "I want to sleep here."

In a single bound she was on her parent's bed. It was a technique she knew would work. Once she was snuggled up against Daddy, he wouldn't want her to leave.

Michael closed his eyes wearily. Garrison's machine was killing his mind with fatigue. He had always been a chameleon, but this was ridiculous. Evvie cuddled up against him, and Michael half-heartedly wrapped an arm around her.

"Evvie, " warned Nikita, "Your father needs to rest."

"It's okay, dear, " said Michael, pulling her in to gently brush her lips. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah Mommy, " said Evvie, "We're fine," she echoed her father.

"All right, " Nikita relented, and settled down beside her husband and daughter.

All was quiet for a moment. Michael kept his eyes open, not wanting to fall asleep. Not wanting to jump destinies again, and wishing the silver walls would just let him rest for once. A lone tear leaked out and streaked down his cheek. Although he knew what had happened was just a simulation, the horrific death of Nikita had cut deeply into his heart. He never wanted to experience losing her. *Once was enough. Never again.*

"Mommy? Daddy?" Evvie's timid voice broke the silence.

"What, " Michael and Nikita grumbled in unison.

"I love you, " she announced.

"I love you too, honey, " Nikita Samuelle muttered.

Michael kissed the top of his daughter's head, ''I love you too, Evvie, " he whispered.

To hell with Garrison, he thought. I might as well enjoy this while I can. Michael closed his eyes.

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

Part 2

Nikita gave the chamber door one more angry kick with her leg.

"Damnit Birkoff!" she cursed, "We can't just leave him like this."

"The charges are set to go off in eight minutes, " Birkoff calmly stated, without a trace of empathy. "It took you about five minutes to get in. You should get out now while you can. I'm sorry, Nikita, but there's nothing more we can do for Michael. Breaking into the chamber while it is in operation could kill not only Michael, but you as well by an indirect reaction from the time mechanism. "

"How do you know the thing's still in operation?" demanded Nikita, "And is Section positive that this is a time machine? This is Red Cell we're talking about, not the high school science club. Maybe Garrison created something else. I mean, Michael was having seizures a minute ago, but now he's just lying there. . . with a smile on his face. Am I getting this innuendo through to ya?" she added sourly.

"Um."

"Look, Birkoff, Michael's going to die if I don't get him out of there. This is his only chance, " she concluded. "And it's not like I got anything to lose. I'm breaking this door down no matter what you or Operations say," she stated firmly.

Her mind made up, Nikita proceeded to level her Beretta at the lock of the chamber door. Before she could pull the trigger however, the cold barrel of a gun was placed onto her neck.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, " said a cold voice from behind her.

Nikita's heart sank.

"Drop your gun, " the voice demanded.

Nikita did as ordered, and stood still while the man behind her frisked her for additional weapons. However when his hand lingered too long for her taste on a particularly sensitive area, she responded instantly. Swinging her lithe body to the side and out of bullet range, she simultaneously raised her left arm to slice viciously downward on the man's firing arm. Crying out in pain, he dropped the gun as his hand spasmed.

"Bitch, " he grunted, making a wild grab for the blonde's hair.

He missed on the first try, and Nikita was able to make a dive for her Beretta. Unfortunately, the man was quick enough to wrap a leg around her ankles, causing her to trip in a rather ungraceful manner. Nikita moaned when her chin connected with the metal floor. The next moment, her body was hauled up and slammed roughly into the chamber door.

"Nikita?" Birkoff's anxious voice echoed into her com unit ear. "Should I send back-up?"

"Ommph!" Nikita exhaled sharply as the furious Red Cell operative began thumping her against the door. She was starting to see stars.

Finally, with one final thrust against the metal, he finally released her, and Nikita slid to the ground, her brain cells ricocheting around in her skull. Nebulous blue eyes tilted upward to meet the angry gray that belonged to the bulky, terminator-like man who towered over her. They were the eyes of a man about to commit homicide. Nikita never liked to see that look in a person's eyes. It was ironic that the voice of the one man responsible for both her and Michael's miserable situations, would save her life.

"That'll be all, Brutus, leave the girl to me, " he announced, in a calm, tyrannical manner.

Brutus stepped aside, leaving Nikita with an unobstructed view of the laboratory entrance. She watched as Dr. Lance Garrison, mastermind behind THE chamber, glided into his domain, accompanied by twenty Red Cell operatives.

Garrison paused just a few feet away from her, pure sadistic evil emanating from his wiry frame. He was tall, but had meek physical proportions when compared to his Red Cell friends. However, his lack of muscle was compensated for by a stern, wise face which belonged to the elite class of geniuses. Nikita could tell from the erect way he postured himself, that he was a man who was used to wielding the power of knowledge, and having ignorant minions obey his every command out of terror.

"You must be a Valentine Op, " Garrison declared, his cultured voice laced with contempt. He rested one bony hand on top of the blonde's head, his fingers splaying through her golden strands.

"What have we here, " he murmured, deftly plucking her comunit from her ear and placing it against his own.

"Nikita? What's going on?" Birkoff's troubled voice could be heard clearly through it.

Garrison handed the comunit to one of the Red Cell operatives.

"Take care of it, " he ordered the operative. The operative nodded, and motioned for two men to come with him.

"So, Nikita, " Garrison addressed her, cocking his head in a condescending manner, "what brings you to my lab? Did Section send you?"

Nikita averted her eyes and continued staring at the floor sullenly. Dr. Garrison nodded to the men who stood at either side of Nikita. In unison, they reached down to haul her to her feet. Garrison cupped her chin in his hand, pushing it up. Glittering blue eyes met dull silver grey.

"When I ask you a question, " he threatened, "I expect an answer right away. Now, we could do this in a civilized manner, " he offered, "or we could make this very unpleasant for you, and for me."

One bony finger caressed her cheek.

"I don't very much like hurting beautiful girls, " he admitted, "In a physical way, that is. I understand that mental tribulation is much more effective. That is why I invented this machine, " he said, motioning to the chamber.

Nikita looked over at Michael. He was no longer in a comfortable state of mind, his body was starting to convulse again. Nikita's eyes filled with worry.

"Ah, very good, " said Garrison, letting go of Nikita's chin and striding over to the computer console that was beside the chamber. He typed a few keys and smiled gleefully when Michael howled in pain as a response.

"What are you doing?" Nikita bit out.

"Stimulating his brain, " Garrison answered, gliding back to her. He smiled down at her. "Section thought that I had created a time machine, isn't that correct?" he asked her.

When Nikita didn't answer, Garrison motioned for one of the operatives to backhand her.

Garrison again assumed possession of her chin, forcing Nikita to look at him.

"Well?" he prompted her.

Nikita glared back viciously, refusing to be intimidated.

"You are strong, Nikita, " Garrison admitted, "But in time, you will break. You WILL break, " he promised, digging his fingernails painfully into the tender skin of her chin.

"Section was wrong, " he declared, releasing her, "This chamber is not a time machine, but the most advanced torture mechanism on the planet. I have found a way to capture a human's state of mind. I have found a way, to delve into another being's mind," he began pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your colleague inside of the chamber, is being submitted to the various simulations of what his life could be. Of what lies ahead. Now, you may think that this isn't torture. This is just advanced fortune-telling. But it isn't. That man is actually experiencing his future. A future that is manifested within here, " Garrison tapped the top of the computer monitor. "Sometimes he will get a good destiny, sometimes he won't. I find that a combination of pain and pleasure is very effective, although for higher interrogation purposes, continual pain is necessary."

Garrison typed in a few more keys, and Michael's screams jumped up three notches in intensity.

Garrison pinned Nikita with a glare, "Now, will you cooperate with us, or would you prefer to join him?"

"Would you prefer a bullet in the brain, or an explosion that will blow your skinny body up atom by atom, " Nikita shot back.

Garrison's face darkened, "Excuse me?"

"Implanted in that whatchamacallit chamber is a bomb set to go off in about three minutes, " Nikita informed him coolly, "If you don't get that man out of the chamber, we'll all die, because he's the only one who can deactivate the charges."

"She's telling the truth, " said one of the Red Cell operatives, who had assessed the interior of the chamber. "The bomb's attached to the wall in there."

Garrison stared, tight-lipped at Nikita for a heartbeat. She stared back with matched hostility. Finally, Garrison relented and strode angrily to the computer to end the torture sequence.

"Take him out, " he ordered Red Cell. To Nikita, his anger was highly visible beneath his thin veil of composure.

"I will allow him some peace of mind for now, " he warned her, "But once that bomb is deactivated, he will be returned to the chamber. And you will join him."

**********

Michael laid cuddled against Nikita, their daughter, Evvie, safely nestled between them Michael was on the brink of sweet sleep, when an insistent nudging at his stomach awoke him. He glanced down at the little girl who was poking at his torso.

"What is it Evvie?" he asked, not unkindly.

The girl gazed up at him with innocent blue-green eyes. "I have to go the bathroom, Daddy," she whispered.

"Okay, " Michael sighed. He moved to allow her a way out of the bed. Instead of taking advantage of the cleared path however, Evvie clambered over her father. Michael ducked to avoid a pink foot which nearly took his eyes out. A wave of dizziness came over him just then. When Michael set his head down on the pillow, silver globes could be clearly seen before his eyes, mocking him. Turning his head sideways, Michael tried to concentrate on the slight figure of Evvie. But even as he watched her creep to the bathroom, she began to dissolve. Instinctively, Michael reached behind him for Nikita, but his hand touched nothing. And the silver walls fell, enveloping him, taking him away again.

* * * *

Nikita watched as two Red Cell operatives slowly pulled open the chamber door. Excess silver smoke billowed out as they stepped inside. A moment later, they emerged, an unconscious Michael between them. They deposited his body before Nikita. Immediately, she bent to cup his face in her hands. Michael reacted violently to her gentle touch. One arm shot out without warning to claw at her neck. Before she could do anything about it, Nikita found herself thrown to the ground, with Michael straddling her from ontop, his hands engaged in the process of strangling her.

Garrison observed the situation impassively for a moment before motioning picking up a syringe and filling it with a clear liquid. Gliding over to the couple, he administered the medication to Michael's neck, and waited for him to come out of his violent trance.

Gradually Michael's grip on Nikita's neck slackened, and reason flooded into his wild, open green eyes. He stared down at Nikita, horrified at what he was about to do.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a mixture of fright and concern.

"I'm fine, " Nikita managed to choke out. "Michael?"

"I'm here, " he said, reaching out to soothe her bruised neck.

"That' great, " Nikita said, wryly, "But could you please take your knee off of my ribcage?"

Michael hastily scrambled off Nikita and pulled her to her feet. A part of him was afraid that he was still trapped in the chamber and this was just another macabre simulation. It was only by looking at the fire in Nikita's eyes that shone with her free spirit which confirmed that Michael truly was back in reality. Michael paused in his thoughts to take in his surroundings. Make that a reality that included Red Cell operatives, he amended.

Dr. Garrison stepped up to this intriguing dark-haired man and placed a hand on the side of his face.

"Interesting, " he commented, observing the emerald pools which glittered back at him with intensity.

"You are a strong man, " Garrison allowed, "All of my previous test subjects came out of the chamber in a near-catatonic state. Broken, confused, frightened. . . willing to deduce whatever information was asked from them. I thought I had created the perfect interrogation device. However, after observing your reaction, I suppose I will have to make some alterations to my invention."

Michael simply stared back at Garrison, his face cold stone.

Garrison smiled at this. "What is your name?"

Michael simply stared back at Garrison, his face cold stone.

"The girl, " Garrison said, in a commanding tone, nodding to his men.

The operative nearest Nikita grabbed her hair, viciously yanking her head back while another operative pummeled her torso with a series of kicks and punches.

Michael simply stared back at Garrison, his face cold stone.

"Enough, " said Garrison.

Nikita fell to her knees, coughing and wheezing. Michael felt her heaving body brush up against the back of his legs, but he willed himself to maintain control for her sake. He would not let Garrrison use his weakness against him.

"Impressive, " Garrison murmured. "Most men would rush to the defense of such a beautiful creature. I see that you and I are of the same mentality."

Michael ignored this remark and went straight to the bomb, literally.

"You won't be able to disable it, " he called out to the two operatives who were delicately picking at the bomb. "Any further attempts to defuse it will result in instantaneous detonation."

Garrison's face darkened.

"I'm afraid he's right, sir, " verified one of the men.

Michael gazed about the room, making eye contact with every Red Cell operative. Even though he had been through a hellish trio of time-altering simulations, his mind was focused on the mission on hand. He knew Red Cell had no real loyalty to Garrison. They tolerated him merely for his flagitious expertise.

"The charges are set to go off in five minutes, " Michael stated with no emotion. "There's no stopping this event. If you leave now, there's a chance you will live."

"Don't listen to him!" Garrison bit out, his voice an interval higher in loudness. "He's toying with your susceptible minds."

Garrison's last phrase of contempt proved to be his undoing. Red Cell would not stand to be insulted of its intelligence.

**********

"I won't die in vain, " Garrison declared after Red Cell had deserted him.

Before Michael could react, Garrison had his hands on a gun. Placing the barrel a mere inch away from Michael's forehead,

Garrison chortled, "I promised your blonde colleague that you would return to the chamber. I intend to fulfill that promise."

Nikita gurgled as she attempted to push herself up from the ground. The droning masculine voices fluttered past her ears as she struggled to maintain consciousness after her vile beating. Reaching out with a shaky hand, she grasped her fallen Beretta. Neither of the men noticed her motions.

"The last few minutes of your life will be pure hell, " Garrison promised Michael, urging him on to the chamber with his gun.

"But I'm not cruelest man on earth, " Garrison admitted, "I'll make sure you have some company."

Garrison turned to Nikita, when he saw the gun in her hand, he immediately thrust Michael in front of him, using him as a shield.

"Let's not rush the death process, " Garrison taunted, his gun leveled at Michael's head.

Without a word, Nikita shot Garrison between the eyes. One precise, clear shot that instantly ended his life.

Michael blinked, a rare expression of surprise leaking out into his fine features. Nikita grinned and ambled over to him, even though moving her lower extremities hurt like hell.

"Next time, Michael, " she told him, "duck."

A brief smile flickered over Michael's lips. Sweeping Nikita up in his arms, he told her quietly, "Let's go."

He rushed her out of the compound, barely making it out before the charge detonated. After a familiar mixture of fire and flying debris, Garrison's chamber was no more. The last remainder of the chamber being a thin cloud of silver smoke which tunneled up into the starless night, before it dissolved into the atmosphere.

* * * *

Michael paused in front of the Section van, carefully setting Nikita down and reaching for her Beretta. The body of three Red Cell operatives littered the area of the vehicle. He felt Nikita stiffen in alarm.

"Birkoff, " she whispered in horror. What had become of her little brother?

Michael cautiously approached the van door. He kicked it open and jumped inside, dangerously bearing the Beretta in front of him in ready firing position.

"Stop! It's me!"

Frantic high-pitched cries stopped Michael. He lowered the weapon.

A very scared and disheveled Birkoff emerged from behind the seats.

"Birkoff!" Nikita cried out with relief. She enveloped the kid in a hug. "I always knew you could do it."

"Yeah, well its thanks to your gun sessions, " Birkoff admitted.

Michael smiled at the two operatives. Quickly he surveyed the bloodstained van. He lifted a dead Red Cell operative's body up from the table and hoisted him out of the van. The scraps of taffy and oreo crumbs that littered the table did not escape his eyes. Michael sighed with relief. *Yes, this was reality.*

* * * *

Operations took a sip of his tea, letting his eyes flicker over the brim to the auburn-haired lady who sat across from him.

"Garrison's chamber will certainly be of assistance to you, " he remarked.

Madeleine smiled. "Yes, " she agreed. "However, I can get along without it. I talked with Walter, and he has concluded that despite the data we managed to obtain, replicating Garrison's invention is still a formidable task."

"Are you saying that we shouldn't waste our resources on this project?" inquired Operations.

"No, not exactly, " said Madeleine, "Our interrogation methods are still very advanced compared to the outside world. However, if Red Cell was able to create Garrison's chamber, Section should be ready to find an antidote for its operatives in order to resist this form of interrogation. But there's no rush, since Michael's team took down Garrison and erased what information on the chamber Red Cell previously possessed. I think that our science department should concentrate on more current problems, such as biological weapons. We can keep Garrison's chamber on hold for now."

"Agreed, " said Operations. "Besides, your interrogation methods so far have been quite effective."

Madeleine smiled at the compliment. Sipping at her tea, she turned to her computer monitor.

"I see we had a nice resolve in Chile, " she commented.

Operations leaned back into his chair, feeling very relaxed.

"Yes, " he said.

* * * *

Epilogue

Nikita walked jauntily down Section's halls. She was in high spirits for a number of reasons. Number one would be the fact that Michael had seemed much more. . . well, nicer wouldn't be the right word to describe it, but in the past two days after the mission, he had seemed much more . . approachable. Knocking on his office door, Nikita put on a bright smile and poked her head in.

"I was just going out for some coffee, " she began, not really caring if he rejected her, just feeling giddy enough to try her luck, "and I was wondering if you wanted to join me."

"I have work to do, " Michael answered automatically. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. The response had been a reflex, and he knew it.

"Wait, " he said, grabbing her arm as Nikita strode down the hall, "I decided I could use a break afterall."

"Great, " said Nikita nonchalantly, smiling.

Michael simply stared back. This was his Nikita, he realized. Now and here, but not forever. Who knew what lay in the future for them? They had no destiny, their life was to be determined by the choices they made today, by the risks they dared to take.

** * * **

Nikita settled back in her chair, java in hand, feeling very relaxed. Although they had not spoken much, (Michael wasn't much for small talk) their silence had been companionable.

"So Michael, " said Nikita, deciding to take the dive, "I've been meaning to ask you, just out of curiosity, what did you see in Garrison's chamber?"

Michael's first instinct was to offer up some sugar-coated, but blunt, lie about his experience. The memories of the simulations however, stopped him. No destiny awaited them, he realized, it was up to them to build their own foundation for a happy future. And in his mind's eye, he saw a future with Nikita. But if he truly wanted her, Michael realized that he would have to start by repairing their shaky relationship. And the best place to start, was by establishing lines of trust. No more unnecessary lies, he told himself. No more.

Michael reached across the table to take Nikita's hand in his. It was a simple gesture, but one they seldom used. He didn't blame her for the brief flicker of surprise which flickered across her beautiful face.

"Well, " he began softly, looking into her eyes, "when I was in the chamber. . . "

**********

Walter looked up from his work table and grinned when he saw the happy couple strolling toward him. It was a rare sight for Michael and Nikita to be like that together, and it warmed his heart to see sugar looking so contented. Michael still wasn't completely smiling, Nikita would have to work on that, but Walter noticed that he did look much more relaxed.

"Hey Walter, " Nikita greeted him with a heart-felt kiss on the cheek.

"Why, if you're gonna be that generous after a little caffeine break, I say, go out for coffee more often, you two!" he teased.

Nikita laughed, and Michael felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Her laughter was music to his ears, even though he had to admit Nikita sounded like a honking Canadian goose when she laughed.

"What's this?" inquired Nikita, picking up a metal box from the table.

"It's part of my secret project, " Walter told her in a hushed tone, nervously looking about his workstation.

"Really?" Nikita leaned in closer, as did Michael. She shuddered when she felt his breath on her neck. He was so close to her. All she had to do was lean back a centimeter to rest against his chest.

"Ops closed down the Garrison project after he decided that it was a waste of time, " Walter informed them. "But before he completely pulled the plug, I managed to create the basis for the chamber. It's all in here, what little I managed to make, " he said, slowly opening the box.

Silver liquid that swirled with a life of its own surged against the walls of its metal cell.

Walter glanced up, flustered at the twin looks of horror on Michael and Nikita's faces.

"What?" he asked, "What's wrong??. . ."

* * * *

On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -- how it tells
Of the rapture that impels. . .

(Edgar Allen Poe)

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