TEASER

SCENE: SMALL YACHT, CARIBBEAN. The boat skims along the water, a clean white streak in the jewelly sea.

The camera sweeps down. Michael is at the helm, shirtless, his tanned skin gleaming in the sun. His eyes are shielded by sunglasses, but he is smiling.

A pair of arms slide around his waist. Behind him, a bikini-clad Nikita, her skin warm and brown, her hair sunlit and wind-whipped, kisses his shoulder. She says something and he responds. She smiles, kisses his shoulder again, and runs her fingernails playfully along his chest.

He looks back at her with a smile, and then powers down the boat. It comes to a slow stop. The wake rocks the boat gently.

NIKITA: Are we there?

MICHAEL: Not yet.

NIKITA: Then --

He turns and leans back against the instrument panel, running his hands up and down her tanned arms.

MICHAEL: I think we need to stop and take our bearings.

NIKITA: (smiling) Our bearings?

She steps closer, resting her arms on his shoulder blades. He slides his hands around her waist, his thumbs slowly caressing her stomach.

MICHAEL: We need to know what direction we're headed.

NIKITA: You mean like . . . east?

She leans forward and kisses the side of his neck.

NIKITA: West?

She kisses the other side of his neck.

NIKITA: North?

She kisses him on the mouth, their lips lingering and tongues tickling.

MICHAEL: (murmuring) And south --

His lips travel down her neck, and his hands up her back. With a slight, sure move, he undoes her bikini top. She arches her head back and laughs breathily as his lips move further down, as his hands ease slowly under her arms to the front.

NIKITA: You do know your way around a globe, Michael.

His head comes up momentarily.

MICHAEL: Wait until you see what I can do in a jungle.

She laughs again and the camera sweeps back, showing the two of them, healthy, strong, embraced.

**********

SCENE: YACHT, LATER. The sun is setting, streaking the sky with brilliant pink and orange. The yacht pulls up beside a small powerboat. Sitting in the boat is Methos, inappropriately dressed in jeans and a heavy windbreaker. He looks up at the yacht sourly, grabbing the side of his boat as it is rocked by the wake of the yacht. Michael turns off the yacht engine, and he and Nikita step to the railing, looking down.

METHOS: You're late.

MICHAEL: We were detained.

NIKITA: We got lost.

METHOS: (grumpily) Honeymooners.

NIKITA: Are you coming on board or are you just going to sit there and sulk?

Sighing, Methos stands and grabs a black bag on the floor of the power boat. He tosses it up, and Michael catches it deftly. They watch as Methos grabs hold of the rope ladder and climbs on board the yacht. He jumps over the railing, landing neatly on his feet, and then surveys the two of them, his arms crossed.

METHOS: You're looking . . . well.

NIKITA: And you're overdressed.

METHOS: I don't do thongs.

NIKITA: For which we are eternally grateful.

METHOS: (to Michael) The little woman is a little upset.

Nikita bristles, her hands on her hips.

METHOS: (holding up a hand) Sorry. Uncalled for. Of course you're upset, and believe me, if it wasn't important, I never would have asked your husband to cut short your trip.

NIKITA: (relenting) Apology accepted.

MICHAEL: What's this about?

METHOS: It's about what everything is about.

He turns and looks across the water. Michael and Nikita look as well: the boats are anchored off a small island, and rising from the rich greenery of the island is a large, elegant mansion.

METHOS: Power.

**********

SCENE: YACHT, LATER. It is full dark now. The moonlit water laps gently against the two boats. Nikita and Methos watch as Michael pulls on a wet suit and scuba gear.

NIKITA: I don't like him going in alone.

METHOS: Wentworth would sense us before we even got to the dock.

MICHAEL: (looking up) Sometimes being mortal has its advantages.

Nikita and Methos look at each other and then away, uncomfortable.

MICHAEL: It was a joke.

NIKITA: (to Methos) So all he has to do is retrieve the journal, right?

METHOS: Yes, that's -- how do you say it -- the "op."

NIKITA: So why not wait until this Wentworth is out of the house and --

METHOS: He keeps it with him at all times. By now it's probably tucked under his pillow.

MICHAEL: Any chance he'll have a decoy?

METHOS: Good question. I don't know. The journal is from the fifteenth century, so all the entries are in Latin. The back cover has a stain from a cup of mead.

NIKITA: Mead?

METHOS: (irritably) Yes, mead. It's a beverage. We used to drink it in the old days. It's quite good. I'll make it for you sometime.

NIKITA: What's in this journal that's so important?

Methos stares at her a moment, and then looks away.

METHOS: You don't want to know.

Strapping on the scuba tanks, Michael stands, dressed and ready. Nikita and Methos stand with him. Methos picks up the small black bag and hands it to him. Michael straps it around his neck.

METHOS: You've got the security codes.

MICHAEL: Yes.

METHOS: And the layout --

MICHAEL: (interrupting) I've done this before, Adam.

METHOS: (after a moment) Of course. You're right.

Methos looks at Nikita, and then he walks to the other end of the boat to give them a moment alone. Nikita steps up to Michael and, in true wifely fashion, adjusts his wetsuit.

NIKITA: You'll be careful.

Michael stops her hand with a smile.

MICHAEL: I'll bring you a starfish if I see one.

Unable to speak, Nikita stares at him, wide-eyed. He kisses her palm and then her lips lightly. Then he steps over to the boat railing, climbs over, and falls back into the water. She runs to the railing and watches him swim away. Methos joins her.

METHOS: He'll be all right.

CUT to Michael, swimming. He stops and treads water for a moment, pulling a pair of waterproof mini-binoculars from the black bag. He scans the dock: it's empty.

CUT back to yacht. Nikita watches Michael's progress through binoculars.

NIKITA: He's at the dock.

A view through her binoculars: Michael pulls himself out of the water and then, a sleek dark figure, runs low and swift to the house.

Back to Nikita. She grips the binoculars tighter.

METHOS: Well?

NIKITA: He's at the door.

She drops the binoculars and turns to Methos.

NIKITA: We should --

She never finishes the sentence. There is a loud boom -- the yacht rocks backward -- and the night sky is filled the bright orange light of an explosion.

ROLL CREDITS

**********

ACT ONE

SCENE: CEMETERY. Nikita stands in front of a gravestone. She is in all black, and without make-up, she looks tired and desolate.

Quietly, Methos comes up from behind her. She doesn't acknowledge his arrival, but stiffens when he speaks.

METHOS: I can't tell you how sorry I am.

NIKITA: Don't even try.

She turns to him, rigid with pain and anger.

NIKITA: Did you get your precious journal?

Methos contemplates the grave for a long moment.

METHOS: No.

NIKITA: I don't know what was in it, but I do know this. Whatever it was, it wasn't worth his life.

METHOS: Actually -- (He pauses as if uncertain he should say it.) Actually, it was.

She stares at him, outraged, and then abruptly turns and walks off.

METHOS: Nikita --

She ignores him, continuing blindly across the graveyard. Methos sighs and turns back to the grave. He kneels beside it, and then touches Michael's name.

METHOS: I am sorry, my friend.

The camera pans upward toward the trees, rich with summer green against a brilliant blue sky. Then, the image dissolves to a shot of trees bare of leaf, against a winter-gray sky.

**********

SCENE: PARIS. The camera pulls back from the shot of the bare trees to reveal that we are in an artist's studio, looking out the windows that reach from floor to ceiling along one wall. The room is big and echoing, and apparently has not been used in some time. There are dusty crates along one wall, and a workbench along another. In the middle of the floor is a very tall crate, one side of which has been removed. As the camera moves around the crate, Duncan comes into view: the solemn, shorn Duncan of the beginning of Highlander's sixth season.

Duncan takes a crowbar and pries apart another side of the crate. It falls with a whoosh of dust to the floor. He then moves to the last corner and does the same. The final two sides fall. Duncan stands back and looks: inside the crate was a statue -- two long, sweeping white figures, curving together but not touching.

Suddenly, Duncan looks around. He senses another immortal approaching.

NIKITA: It's beautiful.

Duncan turns. Nikita stands in the doorway. She is pale and thin, soberly dressed, and she looks at the statue, not at him.

DUNCAN: (glancing back at the statue) Yes, it is. It's called "Enamorata."

Nikita walks into the studio, still gazing at the statue. Duncan watches her.

NIKITA: "Enamorata."

DUNCAN: It's the story of two lovers kept apart by fate --

He stops, as if suddenly conscious of the painful associations the story might bring.

DUNCAN: (gruffly changing the subject) Uh -- I didn't know you were in Paris.

NIKITA: I got in last night. Joe told me I could find you here.

She touches the statue lightly as she walks around to face him. She looks at him sadly.

NIKITA: He told me about Richie.

Duncan looks away.

NIKITA: I'm so sorry.

He nods jerkily, not trusting himself to speak.

NIKITA: (looking back at the statue) Who's the artist?

DUNCAN: (after a moment) Tessa. Her name was Tessa.

NIKITA: (stricken) Was?

He steps over to her.

DUNCAN: I know about Michael.

Nikita covers her face, convulsed in tears. Duncan gathers her in his arms.

**********

SCENE: BARGE -- NIGHT. Nikita is curled on a low couch. Duncan brings two cups of tea to the couch and hands her one. He sits beside her. Nikita blows on the tea and looks around.

NIKITA: I like what you've done to the place.

He looks around as well: the barge is empty of everything but the fundamentals -- a sofa, table, futon. It is as bare and comfortless as a monk's cell.

DUNCAN: (shrugging) I was feeling a need to get back to the basics.

Nikita reaches out to lightly touch his hair.

NIKITA: In more ways than one.

He smiles slightly and shrugs again.

NIKITA: Is that how you deal with it?

DUNCAN: This time. I have used . . . other methods. When you're immortal, death is as much a part of your life as dueling.

She sips her tea reflectively.

NIKITA: Immortality sucks.

DUNCAN: Sometimes.

Nikita lowers the tea cup to her knee. Her wedding ring glimmers in the light.

DUNCAN: You're still wearing your ring.

She stretches out her hand flat on her leg, looking at the ring.

NIKITA: I can't bring myself to -- (She stops, swallows, and tries to laugh.) It's been three months. I've been a widow longer than I was a wife.

There is a long silence.

NIKITA: How'd you find out? Wait, let me guess. (then, bitterly) Methos.

DUNCAN: He came here looking for you. He said you disappeared after the funeral. (He looks at her.) Where did you go?

NIKITA: (vaguely) I have no idea.

Duncan takes her hand.

DUNCAN: Can you stay awhile?

NIKITA: (gripping his hand) Please.

**********

SCENE: BARGE, LATER. Nikita is curled on the couch, Duncan in his futon. They are both staring into space, unable to sleep. MUSIC rises: Natalie Merchant's "Life Is Sweet."

"It's a pity, it's a crying shame
They've pulled you down again--"

Nikita turns. Duncan looks over at the couch: the only thing he can see is a trail of blond hair, falling over the end of the couch. He closes his eyes.

CUT to FLASHBACK. Duncan is in bed, watching the sleeping Tessa. He reaches over to stroke her golden hair.

"How painful it must be
To bruise so easily . . . inside--"

CUT to PRESENT. Duncan and Nikita are at the studio again, cleaning up. Duncan opens a crate, while Nikita sweeps the dusty floor. They are quiet, losing themselves in the work.

"It's a pity, it's a downright crime
It happens all the time--"

Nikita stops for a moment and leans on the broom. She looks at Duncan's back as he bends to pick up another crate, and then her gaze turns to the window.

CUT to FLASHBACK. On the yacht, Michael bends down to pick up a coil of rope while Nikita watches, smiling, from a deck chair.

"You want to stay little daddy's girl
You want to hide from the vicious world . . . hindsight--"

CUT to PRESENT. Duncan and Nikita are on the barge. Duncan is setting a plate of something that looks like seaweed in front of Nikita. She looks at it doubtfully, and then sniffs it. He sits beside her with his own plate and nods as if to say, "Try it -- it's good." Skeptical, Nikita takes a bite and forces herself to chew and swallow. She smiles sickly at Duncan.

"Don't cry
You know the tears will do no good
So dry your eyes --"

CUT to studio. The studio is sparkling clean, Tessa's work neatly displayed on tables and crates. Nikita walks around, touching one work and then another, until she reaches the workbench. From the bench, she idly picks up a stray piece of wire and begins bending it into a shape.

"Your daddy he's the iron man
Battleship wrecked on dry land--"

She looks around as Duncan enters with a man in a suit. She watches as the two men walk along the row of sculpture, Duncan pointing and explaining. They stop, the man in the suit nods, and Duncan grins and gives Nikita a "thumb's up" sign.

"Your mama she's a bitter bride
She'll never be satisfied
You know and that's not right --"

CUT to art gallery. Tessa's work is on display, being admired by an elite clientele. Duncan stands near the doorway, his hands clasped behind him and a gentle, proud smile on his face. Beside him, the man in the suit (obviously the gallery owner) nods. Nikita comes up beside them and links an arm in Duncan's. They smile at each other.

"Now don't cry
You know the tears will do no good
So dry your eyes --"

CUT to barge. Duncan, his eyes closed, is seated at the table. He raises his head, sniffing the air. From behind him, Nikita's hand appears with a plate of pasta, loaded with a thick tomato sauce and meatballs. She says something, and Duncan opens his eyes and looks at his dinner. He sniffs it, and then a slow grin spreads over his face. He says something, and she sits beside him with her own plate. He reaches for the wine bottle in front of him and pours glasses for them both. They smile and talk easily.

"Well they told you life is hard
Misery from the start
It's dark -- it's long -- it's painful--"

CUT to studio. Duncan leads a blindfolded Nikita into the center of the room. He takes the blindfold off, and she looks around blinking. All of Tessa's work is gone: instead, the room is filled with the wire and tools Nikita needs for her own work. She turns to Duncan with a smile: "For me?" she seems to say. He nods.

"But I tell you life is sweet
In spite of the misery
There's so much more -- be grateful--"

CUT to studio, night. Nikita, seated cross-legged on the floor, is engrossed in a piece of wire sculpture. All around are finished pieces. Duncan enters, carrying a basket. He spots her and shakes his head indulgently.

Nikita looks up to find a bottle of wine held over her shoulder in front of her face. She cranes her neck back and looks back at Duncan. She smiles a "hello."

He settles on the floor beside her and unpacks the basket: bread, cheese, fruit, plates and glasses. Nikita looks down at her dirty hands and then holds them out, saying something. Duncan nods and continues setting out their dinner. Nikita gets up and crosses to the bathroom in the far corner.

"Well who do you believe
Who will you listen to -- who will it be?
`Cuz it's high time that you decide
In your own mind--"

CUT to bathroom. Nikita washes her hands and then looks up at herself in the mirror. Her hair is in a tangled ponytail, and her face is spotted with dirt and paint. Slowly, she takes a cloth and wipes the dirt from her face. She undoes the ponytail and combs out her hair with her fingers.

She takes a deep breath and, without removing her gaze from her reflection, slides off her wedding ring. She holds it a moment, and then she looks down at. Slowly, she slips it into her jeans pocket.

"For they told you life is hard
Misery from the start
It's dark -- it's long -- it's painful--"

She opens the bathroom door. Across the way, Duncan looks up and smiles.

"But I tell you life is sweet
In spite of the misery
There's so much more -- be grateful."

CUT to barge, later. MUSIC stops. The door opens, and Nikita and Duncan enter. They are quiet, not looking at each other. Duncan sets the basket down on the bar. Nikita walks slowly toward the bed. She looks at it, and then she turns to Duncan. He walks up to her slowly.

DUNCAN: Are you sure?

NIKITA: Yes.

She cups his face in both hands, pulling him down to her. They kiss, slowly and tentatively. For a fraction, they pull back and look into each other's eyes, questioning. Then, with fluid urgency, they are in each other's arms, Duncan easing her back onto the bed. The scene dissolves into a montage of passionate love-making, ending with a close-up of Nikita, smiling with painful ecstasy, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

DISSOLVE TO WHITE. The camera pulls back and reveals the door to a Section One white room. It creaks open. Operations, cheroot in hand, steps in. He smiles.

OPERATIONS: Welcome home, Michael.

The camera pans around. Michael, his face bruised and battered, his clothes torn and bloody, looks up froma white room chair.

**********

ACT TWO

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Operations closes the door behind him and steps further inside. He takes a puff.

OPERATIONS: You look pretty bad for a dead man.

Michael stares at him, unblinking.

OPERATIONS: Much as I'd like to believe that you've spent the last six months being tortured by Richard Wentworth, we have evidence that you have spent only the last four months in Wentworth's custody. By my calculations that leaves two months unaccounted for.

Michael continues to meet his eye without responding.

OPERATIONS: I'd like a reason NOT to cancel you, Michael.

Michael looks away. Operations sets his jaw.

OPERATIONS: Fine. Maybe you'll be more forthcoming for Madeline.

He leaves without looking back. The door creaks shut behind him. Michael lets his head drop, just for a moment, before the door opens again. Madeline steps in, followed by two Section guards.

Taking Michael's chin delicately in her hand, she lifts his head and examines his injuries dispassionately.

MADELINE: (to the guards) Take him to Medical.

The guards undo Michael's restraints. Madeline holds his chin a moment longer and then lets go. She steps out of the way, smiling slightly.

MADELINE: We'll talk soon, Michael.

**********

SCENE: BARGE -- MORNING. Duncan is in the kitchen area, pouring coffee. Nikita, sleep-tousled in his robe, comes up behind him.

NIKITA: Ummm -- that smells good.

Turning, he hands her a cup.

DUNCAN: There's croissant on the table.

NIKITA: Um, no thanks. All I want is here --

She tiptoes up to kiss him. He brushes her hair back and than laces his fingers in it, looking her over from head to chin.

DUNCAN: (in a low, throaty murmur) Since the moment we met, I've wondered --

NIKITA: So have I.

DUNCAN: (more seriously) We really should talk about it.

Nikita sighs and pulls back a bit to sip her coffee.

NIKITA: Do we have to? Can't we just --

DUNCAN: (interrupting) Take comfort in each other.

NIKITA: (after a pause) It was more than that. For me, anyway.

DUNCAN: (smiling) For me, too.

Arms wrapped around each other, they move toward the sofa.

DUNCAN: So what do you want to do today? The Louvre again? Or do you want to work?

They settle onto the sofa. Nikita curls against him.

NIKITA: I definitely DON'T want to work.

Duncan takes the coffee cup from her hand and sets it on the low table in front of the sofa.

DUNCAN: Well, if you don't want to work, that just leaves one thing.

NIKITA: What?

Duncan leans over, pressing her back against the sofa.

DUNCAN: (leering) Play --

He growls and aims for her neck, nibbling it. She giggles.

Then, they sense it: another immortal. They both look up as the door opens.

Methos enters.

**********

SCENE: BARGE, LATER. Duncan stands at the door of the barge beside a fully dressed Nikita. Methos waits inside.

DUNCAN: (to Nikita) So you'll get your things and come right back.

NIKITA: If you're sure you want me here.

DUNCAN: (stroking her cheek) I'm very sure.

Nikita smiles, but then, her glance falling on methos, frowns slightly.

DUNCAN: He'll be gone by the time you return. I promise.

Nikita nods. She kisses Duncan quickly and starts to leave, but he pulls her back and into his arms for a longer kiss. Breathless, she smiles and finally makes it out the door. Duncan turns into the barge and faces Methos, who leans against the bar, arms crossed.

METHOS: I'm sorry. If I'd known she was here --

DUNCAN: You didn't know because I haven't seen or heard from you in months.

He comes back into the barge and collects Nikita's cup from the table, taking it to the kitchen to wash.

METHOS: How long have you -- has she --

DUNCAN: It's none of your business.

METHOS: But what about --

DUNCAN: It's none of your business.

METHOS: Amanda?

Duncan sets the cup down with a sigh.

DUNCAN: I haven't seen or heard from Amanda in months, either. (with emphasis) And that's all I'll say on the subject.

METHOS: All right, all right. I guess even at the tender age of four hundred you have the right to make your own mistakes.

DUNCAN: (sarcastically) Gee, thanks, old man. Now, what are you doing here?

METHOS: Richard Wentworth.

DUNCAN: What about him?

METHOS: He's in Paris.

DUNCAN: (throwing up his hands and walking away) Oh, no --

METHOS: Mac, you don't know what he is--

Duncan stops and looks over his shoulder at Methos.

DUNCAN: Actually, I do.

He turns away, and the camera zooms in for a close-up.

**********

From the close-up of present-day Duncan, the shot dissolves to a close-up of Duncan with longer hair. The camera pulls back. He is dressed in 17th century clothes and standing in front of an impressive stone castle. A caption on the bottom on the screen reads: England, 1636.

Duncan looks at the castle entrance uncertainly. He adjusts his doublet, brushes back his hair, and checks his breath. Finally, he sets his shoulders and marches firmly to the door, banging on it with the large impressive knocker. The sound reverberates, and he jumps nervously.

He waits. There is no answer. He looks around behind him, and then he eases the door open, stepping inside gingerly.

CUT to inside. The entranceway is large and impressive, with family crests and banners hanging from the walls. Duncan, his hand on his sword, advances trepidly.

DUNCAN: (calling out) Hello?

He heads for an archway into the next room, but just before reaching it, he stops, sensing another immortal. His hand grips his sword more tightly, and he takes another step forward, only to find a sword suddenly at his throat.

At the other end of the sword is a beautiful red-haired woman: Rebecca Horne, Amanda's teacher.

DUNCAN: I did knock --

REBECCA: (lowering the sword) Duncan, what are you doing here?

DUNCAN: Hopin' not to lose ma head.

REBECCA: I'm sorry. I thought -- (She stops, takes a deep breath, and smiles.) Amanda isn't here, I'm afraid.

DUNCAN: (feigning surprise) Amanda? Ye mean that little thief who stole ma gold last year? I dinna come here lookin' for Amanda. That's for sure.

REBECCA: Really? Well, that's a pity, for she will return this evening.

DUNCAN: She will?

REBECCA: (stifling a smile) She will. And I know she will want to see you. Perhaps you could keep me company until she arrives. I have just ordered tea.

DUNCAN: Well, I wouldna mind a spot of tea --

REBECCA: Even if it's English tea?

DUNCAN: Well, I will admit that even if it goes agin ma Scottish heart, no one can top the English for tea.

REBECCA: (laughing) I'm glad to know we're good for something.

She leads the way out of the room.

CUT to later. Rebecca pours tea while Duncan perches uncomfortably on a delicate chair. He looks around. On the table beside him is a round box: the lid is ajar, and inside can be seen the gleam of crystals. Duncan leans over for a closer look.

REBECCA: Milk and sugar?

Duncan jerks back. Rebecca stands in front of him, holding out the cup.

DUNCAN: (taking the cup awkwardly) No, thank ye.

REBECCA: So, Duncan, have you been keeping busy since last we met?

While she speaks, she replaces the lid on the box and carries it with her across the room. She sits on the sofa and places the box beside her.

DUNCAN: Aye, I canna complain of boredom, that's for sure --

They both raise their heads: another immortal approaches. Rebecca quickly slides the box under a pillow on the sofa, grabs her sword, and stands to face the door. Duncan sets his tea cup down and stands as well.

DUNCAN: Is it Amanda?

REBECCA: I fear not --

She stiffens. A man steps in the doorway. He is tall and impressive, with silver hair and steely eyes, resplendent in royal garb. This is Richard Wentworth. He sees Rebecca and smiles coldly.

WENTWORTH: (bowing slightly) Milady.

REBECCA: (warily) Milord.

WENTWORTH: You know why I have come.

REBECCA: And I know how you will depart. With empty hands. It remains to be seen whether you will depart with or without your head.

She raises her sword. In response, Wentworth pulls his out slowly.

WENTWORTH: I should have liked to do this in a more civilized fashion.

Duncan steps forward, pulling his own sword.

DUNCAN: Now, I dinna know much about fashion, but I do know this is not the way a gentleman treats a lady in her own home.

REBECCA: This is not your fight, Duncan.

DUNCAN: Aye, not now perhaps. But I can assure his lordship it will be.

Wentworth looks from one to the other, and then, with a cold smirk, sheaths his sword.

WENTWORTH: I shall return, milady, when you are less occupied with your servants.

With a slight bow, he leaves.

DUNCAN: And who was that pompous ass?

Rebecca sighs and sits on the sofa, pulling the box from its hiding place. She looks up at Duncan.

REBECCA: A man you would do well to stay clear of.

She places her hand gently on the box.

DISSOLVE to PRESENT. Duncan is now leaning against the bar, arms crossed, while Methos sits on the sofa, bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped.

DUNCAN: As far as I know, he never returned.

METHOS: Oh, he returned, all right. (He looks up) "Lord Wentworth" is not one to give up easily. Then or now.

DUNCAN: Give up on what?

METHOS: Are you being deliberately obtuse or has your new roommate completely addled your capacity for rational thought?

DUNCAN: (after a pause, reluctantly) You think he was after her crystals.

METHOS: I think that since the 14th century Richard Wentworth, like all good alchemists, has been searching for the Philosopher's Stone.

DUNCAN: The Philosopher's Stone --

Methos rises and paces the room, gesturing dramatically.

METHOS: The obsession of medieval alchemy: the secret to the transmutation of matter. Water into wine. Lead into gold.

DUNCAN: Mortal flesh into immortal.

METHOS: (facing him) And immortality into invincibility.

DUNCAN: Rebecca's crystals -- you called them the Methuselah Stone --

METHOS: And the Methuselah Stone was a Philosopher's Stone. One of three, actually.

DUNCAN: Three? Wait a minute. You never said --

METHOS: I didn't make the connection until I realized which journal was missing. Back in fourteen-something, I met an old alchemist living in the Black Forest. Crazy old guy, or so I thought. He told me there were three stones, only he wouldn't give out their exact location. All he would give me were riddles. I figured out that the first one was in the Mount Tambora volcano in Indonesia, as safe from humankind as a thing can be. The second one he claimed was in the hands of, and I quote, "an angel with a head of wings who to a son a birthright brings."

DUNCAN: Birthright. Rebecca, Isaac's wife in the Old Testament.

METHOS: (nodding) Yes.

DUNCAN: "Head of wings" -- horns? Rebecca Horne?

METHOS: So the man hasn't lost all his powers of deduction.

DUNCAN: What about the third stone?

METHOS: All I know is the riddle: "The Abbasid kneels on the stone alive, south of Mecca, for the time of five."

DUNCAN: Kneels five times -- it has to be a mosque. But it's not in Mecca, for the center of power for the Abbasid Caliphate was in Persia.

METHOS: Bagdad to be precise. Modern-day Iraq. Not exactly the place for a weekend jaunt. And somehow I doubt the authorities would sanction a treasure hunt through their mosques.

DUNCAN: Do you think Wentworth has found it?

METHOS: I don't know. I lost track of him after the debacle in the Caribbean. For a famous man, he has a remarkable ability to stay hidden. But now I know where he is --

DUNCAN: You'll have to find a way to stop him.

METHOS: I was hoping WE could find a way.

Duncan is shaking his head before Methos finishes. He grabs Methos by the arm and pushes him to the door.

DUNCAN: This time, you're on your own, old friend.

METHOS: MacLeod, I can't do this alone.

DUNCAN: You've survived five thousand years without my help. I imagine you can handle this little problem just fine.

At the door, he pushes Methos through and then slams the door behind him. He stands there a moment, and then his gaze, as if pulled, turns to a low chest on the other side of the room. Slowly, he walks over and opens it.

From the chest, he gently lifts out a long object, wrapped in white cloth. He slides the cloth off the end: the handle of his katana sword. He looks at it a long moment, a muscle working in his cheek, and then he abruptly puts it back into the chest and closes the lid.

***********

SCENE: MADELINE'S OFFICE. Madeline is snipping her bonsais, her back to the door, when it slides open. Michael stands in the threshold, with Section guards on either side.

MADELINE: (without turning) Come in, Michael. Please sit down.

For a moment Michael doesn't move. One of the guards pushes him inside. Reluctantly, he steps down and takes a chair opposite Madeline's desk. The guards leave.

MADELINE: (still without looking at him) What do you know about Richard Wentworth?

MICHAEL: He's a very rich man.

MADELINE: He is the sole owner of one of the world's largest media conglomerates.

MICHAEL: I told him nothing about Section One.

MADELINE: You didn't have to.

Finally, she leaves her bonsais and walks to her desk. She takes a seat deliberately, watching him.

MADELINE: He's already well acquainted with our organization.

Michael, despite himself, shows a glimmer of interest.

MADELINE: Several months ago, we began receiving some strange requests from the DOD. They wanted us to handle the retrieval of supposedly important documents that had been smuggled into Bagdad. Only, on our arrival, we found in each case that there were no such documents.

Michael maintains a blank silence.

MADELINE: After the most recent wild goose chase, we began investigating the source of these requests. As it turned out, they were all based on intel received from none other than Richard Wentworth. Somehow, some way, Mr. Wentworth has managed to lay hold of some very powerful strings, and he is making Section One his own private puppet show.

MICHAEL: And you think I have been helping him.

MADELINE: No. I believe you were indeed his captive over the last four months.

MICHAEL: And the other two?

MADELINE: (smiling) So how is Nikita?

Only the smallest quiver betrays Michael's surprise.

MADELINE: Oh, but I guess you don't know the answer to that question. Perhaps I should tell you.

She turns to her computer and hits a key. An image blips on the monitor: an outside view of Duncan's barge. Michael watches, stone-faced, as Nikita emerges from the barge. She looks around at the beautiful morning and takes a deep breath. Smiling, she turns to the door as Duncan exits. She says something; he laughs, grabs her hand, and kisses it. They leave the barge, clasped hands swinging.

MADELINE: This was taken three days ago in Paris. I'm sure you recognize Mr. MacLeod. He gave the bride away at your wedding, didn't he?

Michael is silent.

MADELINE: It looks to me as if Mr. MacLeod has decided to take the bride back.

MICHAEL: You can't harm her.

MADELINE: (raising her eyebrows) An interesting response. We'll have to examine that at a later date. For now, I have something else to show you.

She hits the key again, and Michael, stunned, watches the monitor: a little boy scampers after a ball in the park.

MADELINE: You thought you'd hidden him from us, didn't you? You faked his death as you faked your own, and you gave him to a couple in Lyons to raise.

While Michael stares at the screen, Madeline stands and walks around the desk, coming to a stop behind Michael's chair. She sets her hands lightly on his shoulders.

MADELINE: Quite a beautiful child, isn't he? He reminds me of Nikita. Both so free and happy. So innocent. But after all you've done, Michael, no one on earth could call you innocent.

She leans forward and speaks low in his ear.

MADELINE: And the last thing you deserve is freedom and happiness.

Michael involuntarily turns his head away.

MADELINE: It's what you believe, isn't it? What you know, deep down in the soul you sold to us so long ago. You know you are not worthy of them. You know you belong to us.

He bends his head.

Madeline straightens and walks briskly back to her chair. She stands there, looking down on him.

MADELINE: The mission for Paris leaves in one hour. You will be briefed on the plane. Oh, and Michael, should you try to escape -- or if you suffer yet another unforeseen accident --

With the touch of a finger, she turns off the computer, and the image of Michael's son blinks out of existence.

***********

ACT THREE

SCENE: OUTSIDE BARGE -- NIGHT. Duncan is seated on the side of the barge, an untouched glass of wine in his hand as he stares off at Notre Dame in the distance. The barge door opens, and Nikita steps out. She makes her way along the edge to where Duncan is sitting and she plops down.

NIKITA: Well, that's it. I'm all settled in.

DUNCAN: (distracted) Good.

NIKITA: Of course, there wasn't much room. I had to throw out a few of your things.

DUNCAN: Of course.

NIKITA: But I'm sure you can find another original Picasso.

DUNCAN: No problem. (then, realizing what she has said) What?

NIKITA: (smiling) Just making sure you're still with me.

He smiles back and takes her hand, carrying it to his lips.

DUNCAN: I'm with you.

With her free hand, Nikita takes the glass from his hand. She sips.

NIKITA: So what were you thinking about?

DUNCAN: (taking the glass back) Nothing. Nothing important.

Nikita leans forward to look into his face.

NIKITA: You're worried about him.

DUNCAN: He'll be fine. He always is.

NIKITA: Still -- I imagine he could use some help.

He sets down the glass and turns to her.

DUNCAN: That doesn't mean we have to.

NIKITA: I know, but --

She shrugs. Duncan smiles, and they stand together.

NIKITA: Of course, I've got nothing to wear.

**********

SCENE: ELEGANT HOTEL BALLROOM. The ballroom is set up for a fashion show. Along the runway, sulky models strike sulky poses while around them mingle the rich and the jeweled. The camera pans on the room and stops on Wentworth: a man of wealth and power even in this century. He is in the center seat of a table at the far end of the room, with a beautiful brunette on one side and what looks like a lawyer on the other. The brunette says something, and Wentworth leans over to catch it -- then his head raises up again as he senses the approach of another immortal. He turns to the door.

Nikita enters. She is dressed in a skin-tight sophisticated black dress, barely held up by two silver strings. She looks around, and her eyes lock with Wentworth's. A hint of a smile plays on her lips.

Wentworth holds up a glass and nods a greeting.

Nikita crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows inquiringly. Wentworth smiles. He sets down the glass and rises to his feet, smoothing his suit into place. He says something to the lawyer and, ignoring the brunette's queries, he crosses the room to Nikita. They exchange a few words. She reaches out to run a finger along his lapel. He smiles, takes her elbow, and leads her out of the room.

The camera pans the room again. At the other end, in the shadows, Micahel watches, stone-faced.

**********

SCENE: OUTSIDE HOTEL. In a car across the street from the hotel entrance are Duncan and Methos.

METHOS: Are you sure about this?

DUNCAN: She's just going to case the place and then she's out of there.

METHOS: Let's just hope Wentworth lets her out of there with her head.

DUNCAN: Nikita can handle him. I know. I trained her.

METHOS: Yes, well, the last time I sent a friend to check out Richard Wentworth, things got a little out of hand.

Duncan sighs.

DUNCAN: All right. I'll go hang out in the lobby. If she's not downstairs in twenty minutes, I'll go after her.

METHOS: That's more like it.

Methos settles back into the seat comfortably. Duncan rolls his eyes and gets out.

*********

SCENE: PENTHOUSE SUITE. Wentworth is standing by the bar, pouring drinks. Nikita is walking around the room toward him, surreptitiously checking the place out. She reaches him as he finishes with the drinks.

WENTWORTH: (handing her a drink) Well, at least I know you don't carry a sword.

NIKITA: How can you be sure?

WENTWORTH: There's no room for one in that dress.

Nikita smiles, and they clink glasses. She begins touring the room again.

NIKITA: I find all this fighting to be . . . counterproductive. Don't you?

WENTWORTH: Oh, most definitely.

NIKITA: (posing for him in front of the window) There's so much more to life.

**********

SCENE: HALLWAY OUTSIDE PENTHOUSE. Michael exits the elevator and heads for the door to the penthouse. He stops and leans against the door.

MICHAEL: I'm in position.

BIRKOFF'S VOICE: Perimeter team ready.

Michael takes out a thingamajig and attaches it to the door.

CUT to Section One -- Birkoff's station. He is looking at a monitor: there are two figures in the penthouse.

BIRKOFF: Wentworth isn't alone.

CUT back to Michael in the hallway.

MICHAEL: He left the ballroom with one of the models. What are their positions?

BIRKOFF'S VOICE: One of them is standing by the window, straight ahead. The other is to your right.

MICHAEL: Got it. Start sequence.

He pulls out a gun and then breaks down the door with a swift kick.

CUT to inside penthouse. Nikita, at the window, turns and sees Michael.

NIKITA: (stunned) Mi --

He shoots her. She falls. Then he turns the gun on Wentworth.

MICHAEL: Come with me, please.

Wentworth smiles arrogantly and sets down his drink.

WENTWORTH: You know that's not going to happen.

Michael looks around and spots Wentworth's sword in the umbrella rack beside the door. Still holding the gun up, he steps over to the rack and pulls the sword out.

MICHAEL: Yes, it is.

Wentworth's face darkens.

**********

SCENE: PENTHOUSE HALLWAY. Michael exits with Wentworth just as two second-team ops arrive on the elevator. He hands Wentworth over to them, and the three get on the elevator. Michael does not join them.

EXTRA OP: Michael, what are you --

MICHAEL: I'm going to secure the room. I'll follow you down.

The elevator doors close, and Michael turns back to the penthouse.

CUT to inside penthouse. Michael enters and crosses over to Nikita's body. He looks down at her for a long moment, and then he looks around the room. He spots a desk and he crosses to it. Quickly, he takes a pen from the desk, writes a note on hotel stationery, and then folds the page in half, labeling it with a large "N." He takes the note to Nikita's body and, kneeling beside her, slips it into her hand. For a moment, he watches her. His hand reaches out to stroke her hair, but then he pulls back. Blindly, he heads for the door.

Crossing the room, he stumbles over something, knocking it down. He looks at his feet: Wentworth's briefcase.

**********

SCENE: HOTEL LOBBY. Duncan, pretending to look at tourist brochures in a rack near the bank of elevators, sees an elevator arrive and then senses an immortal. He turns with a smile, expecting Nikita, but the smile fades as he sees the extra ops exit with Wentworth. He and Wentworth stare at one another as they pass.

The ops leave the hotel with Wentworth. Duncan boards the elevator they vacated and hurriedly pushes a button. Just as the door closes on him, another elevator opens and Michael steps out, briefcase in hand.

**********

SCENE: OUTSIDE HOTEL. Methos, in the car, sits up as he sees Wentworth leaving the hotel with the extra ops. Hurriedly, Methos gets out of the car and starts across the street.

The Section van pulls up, and the ops load Wentworth inside, following behind him. The door closes just as Methos arrives.

METHOS: (banging on the door) Hey, where are you --

A voice behind him interrupts.

MICHAEL: Open the door.

Methos turns. The van door opens.

METHOS: My God -- Michael!

Michael holds up a gun. He no longer has the briefcase.

MICHAEL: Get in.

He pushes Methos into the van. He closes the door and then gets into the front seat of the van.

MICHAEL: Go.

The van drives away.

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

SCENE: BARGE, LATER. Nikita is seated on the sofa, her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Duncan is pacing.

DUNCAN: It had to be a mistake.

NIKITA: (tightly) It was him.

DUNCAN: He's not immortal, Nikita. He could not have survived that explosion.

NIKITA: He could if he wasn't in the house.

DUNCAN: Then why didn't he contact you? Why let you go on thinking he was dead?

NIKITA: I don't know.

Duncan watches her a moment, and then moves toward her urgently, kneeling in front of her.

DUNCAN: Yes, you do. He's back with them.

She looks away, her expression contracting.

DUNCAN: He could have gotten away if he wanted to. He chose them, Nikita.

NIKITA: No --

He sits on the sofa beside her, gathering her into his arms. She curls against him in a ball.

DUNCAN: I won't stand by and watch you get sucked back into that. Just because you're immortal doesn't mean you can't lose your soul.

Slowly, Nikita's hand opens up. Clutched in it is Michael's note, now crumpled.

NIKITA: I have to see him.

DUNCAN: Then I'll come with you.

NIKITA: Duncan --

DUNCAN: No arguments.

She sits up and faces him.

NIKITA: You can't. I have to do this alone. He is my husband -- remember?

DUNCAN: (darkly) I remember. The question is whether he does.

NIKITA: And it's a question only I can ask him.

He looks away, trying to think of an answer.

NIKITA: Besides. You have to find Methos.

**********

SCENE: SECTION ONE MORGUE. On the far side of the room is a large furnace; on the near side is a row of empty gurneys. Next to the door is a desk, cluttered with paper, a pizza box, and a radio, and over the desk is a white board with names in one column and check marks in another.

The door opens, and a gurney is pushed inside. On the gurney is a body, covered with a sheet, with a lidded coffee cup balanced on top. Pushing the gurney is the Section operative in charge of disposing of the bodies. Nicknamed Reaper, he is tall, skinny, and ghoulish, with stringy long hair and a dirty skull-and-crossbones t-shirt.

Reaper pushes the gurney toward the furnace, stowing it to the side. He then opens the furnace door, checking the fire. He adjusts the temperature on an adjacent gauge: the fire grows hotter. He nods, closes the furnace door, and retrieves his coffee cup. Removing the lid, he moves to the desk and sets the cup down. He helps himself to a slice of pizza and turns on the radio. A Megadeath song blares as he starts searching the desk for something.

Unable to find what he needs, he goes into a supply closet on the other side of the room. The outer door opens, and Michael slips inside. He crosses quickly to the desk and pours the contents of a small vial into the coffee. He slips back out of the room just as Reaper re-appears.

Reaper crosses to the desk, a thick pen in his hand. On the board he writes "PIERSON" in large black letters. He caps the pen and picks up the coffee cup. Turning to the furnace, he sips the coffee.

Still sipping, he walks over to the body on the gurney and pulls back the sheet. The form on the gurney is Methos.

Reaper yawns. He sets the coffee down on the gurney and turns toward the furnace. Just as he reaches the furnace door, he starts wobbling. He braces himself against the wall, but then he slowly slides to the floor, unconscious.

Michael re-enters. He crosses immediately to the desk and shuts off the radio.

METHOS: Thank you.

Michael turns. Methos is sitting up, holding his head.

METHOS: For a moment there I thought I had finally made it to hell.

MICHAEL: We haven't much time.

METHOS: (getting off the gurney carefully) Christ, what did those bloody twins give me?

MICAHEL: (moving to the door to check the hall) They cancelled you.

METHOS: You make me sound like a bad check.

Michael comes back into the room and begins setting things to right. He pours out the coffee, drags Reaper's body to the desk chair, and with the black pen puts a check mark beside "Pierson." Methos comes up beside him.

METHOS: Is that pizza?

MICHAEL: We haven't time.

METHOS: So you said.

Michael moves to the door again and looks out.

METHOS: I guess that means I'll have to wait for an explanation.

MICHAEL: Yes. (He gestures.) It's clear.

Methos walks over to him slowly.

METHOS: What about Wentworth?

MICHAEL: I'll take care of him.

METHOS: And Nikita?

Michael, without a word, leaves the room.

METHOS: (following him) Could I at least get my sword back?

**********

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Wentworth is strapped to a chair, facing Madeline. She is standing, arms crossed, at her most intimidating, but he is calm and unimpressed.

MADELINE: How did you become aware of Section One?

WENTWORTH: (smoothly) It IS the information age. And I am in the information business.

MADELINE: And how were you able to use the DOD to gain access to us?

WENTWORTH: (arrogantly) General Whitaker has been most obliging, no doubt motivated by another tidbit of information I uncovered about his unfortunate predilection for young boys.

Madeline uncrosses her arms and steps toward him, her eyes narrowing.

MADELINE: You are being remarkably forthcoming.

WENTWORTH: (smiling) I was hoping to spare myself the, uh, rigors of your interrogation techniques.

MADELINE: Or you are seeking to divert our attention. What exactly were you after in Bagdad?

The door creaks open, and Michael enters. He stands by the door, just looking at Wentworth. The immortal stiffens.

WENTWORTH: (slightly agitated) Look, it's the truth. The video of Whitaker is in a safe in the main office of my corporate headquarters.

Madeline looks from Wentworth to Michael and back again.

MADELINE: We'll check it out.

She looks back at Michael and gestures with her head for him to leave. With one final searching look at Wentworth, she follows Michael out.

CUT to hallway outside white room. Michael waits for Madeline to exit. She does so, closing the door and facing him.

MADELINE: (bluntly) He's afraid of you.

MICHAEL: He's afraid of us.

MADELINE: (eyes narrowing) Prepare a team to retrieve the videotape.

MICHAEL: And the General?

MADELINE: We'll let the DOD handle him.

Michael nods and turns to leave.

MADELINE: Michael.

He stops and looks back over his shoulder.

MADELINE: (slowly, with emphasis) Section One is a very powerful organization, and as its caretakers we have a great responsibility. We cannot allow it to become the tool of any individual or institution. To serve the greater good, we must maintain our secrecy and our autonomy.

MICHAEL: I know.

MADELINE: Do you?

She steps forward.

MADELINE: (intently) Do you?

MICHAEL: (after a long moment) Yes, I do.

MADELINE: Then you know what you have to do.

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

SCENE: RESTAURANT. It is late, and the restaurant is dark and nearly deserted. A pair of lovestruck teenagers sits on one side, holding hands over the table. In a rear booth sits Nikita. She is fingering a drink nervously and watching the door. She checks her watch.

The teenage boy gets up and goes over to the jukebox. He puts in quarters and punches in songs. MUSIC rises: Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn."

"I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm -- he came around
He was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry--"

The restaurant door opens and Nikita stiffens. An older couple enters, and she subsides back into her seat, staring morosely at her drink.

"Well you couldn't be that man I adored
You don't seem to know -- seem to care
What your heart is for
I don't know him anymore--"

From behind Nikita comes a familiar soft voice.

MICHAEL: Josephine.

She turns, startled. Michael stands behind her. She watches dumbly as he moves to take the seat opposite.

NIKITA: I can't believe it.

MICHAEL: I'm sorry.

NIKITA: But -- how? (She leans forward.) Why?

He looks down and, after a moment, slides an envelope from his jacket pocket. He sets it in front of her.

"There's nothing where he used to lie
My conversation has run dry
That's what's going on--"

NIKITA: What's that?

MICHAEL: Divorce papers. All you need do is sign.

Convulsively, she reaches for his hands.

NIKITA: Michael, no -- don't do this --

MICHAEL: I have no choice.

He gently releases his hands from her grip and eases out of the booth, looking down at her sadly.

MICHAEL: Just sign the papers, and then you're free.

"Nothing's fine -- I'm torn
I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor--"

Nikita stands to face him.

NIKITA: I don't want to be free. Not of you. "Whither thou goest"--

MICHAEL: No.

With one last look, he turns to the door. She starts to follow him, but then stops and watches him leave.

"Illusion never changed into something real
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You're a little late
I'm already torn."

MUSIC stops as the door closes behind him.

CUT to outside restaurant. Nikita exits, carrying the envelope in her hand. She stops for a moment and looks around, as if unsure where to go. Finally, she pockets the envelope and starts down the street. It is cold, and she turns up the collar of her coat and shoves her hands in her pockets.

As she passes an alley, a man jumps out behind her. He presses a cloth against her mouth and nose. She struggles, but the cloth is soaked with chloroform and she soon falls, unconscious.

**********

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Nikita wakes and finds herself strapped to a gurney. Disoriented, she lifts her head.

Across the room stands Michael.

MICHAEL: Good morning.

***********

ACT FOUR

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Nikita watches as the Torture Twins unlock her restraints. She sits up, rubbing her arms. The Torture Twins look at Michael, who nods and dismisses them. The door creaks shut behind them.

NIKITA: (coldly) You son of a bitch.

MICHAEL: Yes.

NIKITA: You set me up.

MICHAEL: It had to be done.

NIKITA: Why?

MICHAEL: It was my job.

Nikita jumps off the gurney and advances to him, her rage breaking out.

NIKITA: Your JOB?! My God, Michael, after all we've -- how could you --

She stops suddenly at a horrible thought.

NIKITA: Oh, my God, you told them, didn't you? You told them that I'm --

He grabs her by the throat and swings her around hard against the wall. He holds her against it with sheer force.

MICHAEL: (intensely) They found out about our plan to fake our deaths and run away together. Wentworth grabbed me and pumped me for information about Section One. A Section team retrieved me in a raid on Wentworth, and now the Section has retrieved you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Nikita, after a long painful moment, nods with difficulty.

NIKITA: (strangled) Why didn't they cancel you?

MICHAEL: They didn't need to.

NIKITA: Why not?

Slowly, his grip eases and he slides his hand away. He stares at her.

MICHAEL: They have my son.

Eagerly, she moves forward.

NIKITA: Then why don't we --

This time he grabs her forearms and holds her against the wall.

MICHAEL: No. Before -- our life before was just a fantasy. THIS is the reality. This is where I belong.

NIKITA: And what about me?

MICHAEL: They're going to cancel you.

He leans in closely, putting his lips to her ear.

MICHAEL: (whispering) Let them.

He pulls away and looks at her. Nikita, digesting what he has said, smiles contemptuously.

NIKITA: I always said I wasn't afraid to die.

Slowly, Michael drops his hands.

MICHAEL: I am sorry.

In a flash, she grabs him by the head and pulls him to her, kissing him fiercely. His hands move back to her arms as if to push her away, but he ends up gripping them again.

She pulls back abruptly.

NIKITA: Add that to your catalogue of memories, Michael.

She walks away. He stands as if unable to move or think. Then, slowly, he gathers himself and leaves. At the door he turns back slightly.

MICHAEL: Goodbye, Nikita.

The door closes behind him. Nikita, rubbing her throat and her arms, starts pacing the room. Finally, she stops and looks up at the ceiling.

NIKITA: I wonder if I might have a word with you, Madeline. Call it my last request.

CUT to Madeline's office. She is at her desk, observing Nikita on the monitor. She turns off the computer and rises.

CUT to white room. Nikita is seated on the gurney, one leg up with an arm around it. When the door opens and Madeline enters, she drops the leg and leans forward, her hands braced on either side.

MADELINE: What is it, Nikita?

NIKITA: Cancelling me would be a mistake.

MADELINE: Oh?

NIKITA: I'm one of the best operatives the Section has ever had.

MADELINE: And one of the most difficult to discipline.

NIKITA: Difficult but not impossible.

MADELINE: True, but there comes a point when it is no longer cost-effective to maintain surveillance on potentially rogue operatives.

NIKITA: Is it cost effective to dispose of your two best operatives at a time when the Section is proving to be vulnerable to outside influences?

MADELINE: What do you mean?

NIKITA: Well, you might as well cancel Michael if you cancel me. You saw his reaction when I kissed him. He was a basket case.

MADELINE: I think we can get a little more mileage out of Michael.

Nikita gets up and begins walking around the room in Madeline fashion.

NIKITA: Yes, but wouldn't it be better to salvage us both?

MADELINE: And what would prevent you from trying to escape again?

NIKITA: The same thing that holds Michael here. His son.

MADELINE: (after a long pause) You make an interesting case, Nikita. But there's still the problem of your, shall we say, squeamishness at the more distasteful aspects of the job.

NIKITA: (after a moment) Give me a test.

MADELINE: A test?

NIKITA: Yes.

**********

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Wentworth is still strapped to a chair. Suddenly, he looks up, sensing another immortal.

The door opens, and Nikita enters. She carries a nine-millimeter. Madeline follows her inside and closes the door.

Nikita steps up to Wentworth. She lifts the gun and points it. He smiles and starts to say something.

Nikita fires, point blank.

She lowers the gun and turns to Madeline.

NIKITA: All right?

MADELINE: For now.

Nikita heads for the door, but Madeline stops her.

MADELINE: There will be further tests.

Nikita, after a moment, nods and leaves. Madeline steps forward to check Wentworth's pulse. She drops his wrist, and then stands looking at him a long time.

**********

SCENE: SECTION ONE MORGUE. Reaper pushes in another gurney with a body on it. He leaves the gurney by the furnace, and then crosses to the white board. With the big black pen, he writes "WENTWOR" -- and then he is hit from behind. He falls to the floor.

The camera pulls back. Wentworth takes the pen from Reaper's hand. He finishes his name and then puts a check beside it. He drops the pen on the desk, giving Reaper a contemptuous kick. Then he leaves.

***********

SCENE: WENTWORTH'S PENTHOUSE. The door opens and Wentworth, dirty and ragged, enters hurriedly and crosses to his desk. He looks through the drawers and all around the desk. Angered at not finding the journal, he begins throwing things.

Suddenly he stops and raises his head. The penthouse door opens, and Methos steps inside. He is followed immediately by Duncan.

Methos pulls his sword and advances to Wentworth, who backs from him as far as he can. When Wentworth hits the wall, Methos moves quickly to hold the sword at his throat.

METHOS: I believe you have something that belongs to me.

WENTWORTH: No, I don't -- it isn't here -- I swear --

Duncan, stepping up to the desk, idly picks up a stray sheet of paper and examines it.

DUNCAN: What a shame.

Wentworth lets out a whimper.

METHOS: What's the matter, Wentworth? Are you afraid to DIE?

He whimpers again.

DUNCAN: (to Methos) Well, I guess that answers the other question. He does not have the Stone.

Methos smiles.

METHOS: I do love a good quickening.

Then, with a yell, he swings.

**********

SCENE: MICHAEL'S OFFICE. Michael is at his desk, as of old, but he is not working on his computer. Instead, he is reading Methos's journal.

Closing it, he glances up at his window. Nikita moves into view. Michael slides the journal into his desk as she enters. She stops inside the door, leaning against the frame.

NIKITA: Deja vu.

MICHAEL: What do you want?

She comes inside, slowly circling his desk to stand beside his chair. Then, she turns a bit and leans against it, taking an envelope from her pocket. She drops it on the desk in front of him.

NIKITA: I came to give you your divorce. Signed, sealed, and now delivered.

He looks at the envelope without touching it.

NIKITA: You're a free man, Michael. (She laughs.) That's really quite ironic, isn't it? What they call a paradox.

MICHAEL: Nikita --

NIKITA: You're free to do your job, and then go home every night to beat your chest and moan "mea culpa, mea culpa."

MICHAEL: It's not like that.

NIKITA: It's exactly like that. You have some really wrong ideas, Michael, about me -- and about yourself. You think somehow you deserve this life, that's it's your fate to be sarificed to the so-called greater good served by the almighty Section One.

MICHAEL: Yes, I do.

She sighs, uncrosses her arms, and strokes his hair back gently.

NIKITA: Poor lonely Michael --

Her hand travels down his face slowly, and then she suddenly grabs his throat and shoves him, his chair rolling, back against the wall. She leans in close and whispers.

NIKITA: I don't believe in fate, Michael, and one day you're going to see I'm right.

MICHAEL: You can't --

NIKITA: Yes, I can.

MICHAEL: How?

Nikita loosens her grip, and then she slides both hands up under his hair, bending so that her lips almost touch his.

NIKITA: I'm going to save your son -- and I'm going to save you --

MICHAEL: Ni --

NIKITA: And I'm going to destroy Section One.

She smiles, kisses him with an affectionate smack, and then saunters to the door. At the threshold, she stops and looks back.

NIKITA: See you on the job, Michael.

She leaves.

**********

EPILOGUE

SCENE: PARIS, ARTIST STUDIO. Duncan and Methos wander around the room, looking at Nikita's wire sculptures. Duncan brushes off dust from a smaller piece, and then turns to look at the largest piece, in the center of the room.

METHOS: Did he say what he wanted?

DUNCAN: No.

METHOS: Did you tell him about Wentworth?

DUNCAN: Yes.

METHOS: Did he tell you anything about Nikita?

DUNCAN: No.

METHOS: Can you form any words of more than one syllable?

Duncan looks over at him.

DUNCAN: Yes.

METHOS: Funny. Maybe in your next life you can be a stand-up --

He stops when the door opens. They turn, and Michael enters. He carries a large black bag and an envelope.

METHOS: The Dark Shadow returns. Bearing gifts even.

Michael crosses the room to them and hands the black bag out to Methos.

MICHAEL: I have completed the assignment you gave me.

METHOS: You found the journal --

MICHAEL: (after a pause) Yes.

Methos takes the bag and sets it on the workbench. While he opens it, Michael turns to Duncan and hands him the envelope.

MICHAEL: This is for you.

Duncan takes it without a word. The two men stare at each other, unsmiling.

METHOS: Oh, my God --

Michael and Duncan turn. Methos is lifting a black cloth from the bag. Nestled inside it are a collection of crystals.

METHOS: You found the Stone.

MICHAEL: Yes.

DUNCAN: In a mosque? In Bagdad?

MICHAEL: Yes. Wentworth had been arranging for Section One teams to search various locations, but he never found the right one. I did.

METHOS: Is it all here?

MICHAEL: No.

METHOS: What --

MICHAEL: I destroyed one of the crystals. It has never and will never be used.

METHOS: But -- Michael, this was your chance! Do you know what this could have done for you?

MICHAEL: I know.

He looks at Duncan.

MICHAEL: No one should have that kind of power.

After a moment, Michael turns to leave.

DUNCAN: Michael --

Michael stops and turns back. Duncan steps forward and holds out his hand.

DUNCAN: Good luck to you.

MICHAEL: (shaking his hand) I'll watch out for her. In this life.

DUNCAN: And I'll watch out for her in the next.

Michael, with a quick nod, leaves. Duncan looks back at Methos, who is staring at the crystals dumbly.

METHOS: I can't believe he did that --

Duncan shakes his head and then turns his attention to the envelope Michael gave him. He opens it and takes out a letter. Walking away from Methos, he reads.

NIKITA'S VOICE: Duncan -- I know you won't be able to understand what I'm doing, but I have to ask you to respect it. I've come to realize that this immortality is not a curse, but a gift. Section One is an abomination that must be stopped, and now I have the strength and the time to do it. And, in the process, I might be able to find something of the soul I know still lives in the man I love.

Duncan looks up at Nikita's tallest wire sculpture: two figures bent together, similar to Tessa's "Enamorata," only in Nikita's version one figure touches another.

He looks back at the letter.

NIKITA'S VOICE: I thank you with all my heart for what you have done for me --

CUT to Section One main area. Nikita enters from a hallway and crosses toward Birkoff's station. Her letter continues in voice over.

NIKITA'S VOICE: And I believe with all my soul that we will meet again one day. Love, Nikita.

Nikita, halfway to Birkoff, suddenly stops. She stares at Birkoff, a slow smile spreading, and then she walks up to him. She stands by his desk, looking down.

BIRKOFF: (glancing up) What?

NIKITA: Uh -- nothing.

BIRKOFF: Why are you looking at me that way?

NIKITA: Oh, let's just say I'm seeing you in a different way.

BIRKOFF: Yeah, well, cut it out. You're giving me the creeps. Besides, Madeline wants to see you in her office ASAP.

Nikita nods and starts away, but then she turns quickly back and leans over his desk.

NIKITA: So what are you doing after your shift?

BIRKOFF: Who wants to know?

NIKITA: I thought maybe you'd be interested in taking up a new hobby. Something like -- fencing.

BIRKOFF: Fencing? No thanks. I'll take a nine-mill over a sword anyday.

NIKITA: (smiling) You never know. Someday a sword might come in real handy.

She winks and leaves Birkoff staring after her.

BIRKOFF: (shaking his head) Weirdness.

**********

SCENE: MADELINE'S OFFICE. Madeline is at her bonsais, her back to the door. Nikita enters and hops down the steps, stopping in the middle of the floor.

NIKITA: You wanted to see me?

Madeline turns. There is a gun in her hand. She points it and fires.

CUT to later. Nikita is on the floor of Madeline's office, her shirt front bloody.

Nikita stirs, opening her eyes, and looks up dazedly. Madeline is staring down at her, her head tilted slightly.

NIKITA: What --

MADELINE: Very interesting.

THE END

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