Freedom.

Of a kind.

To do what?

I don't blame Nikita. She has become what Section, and ultimately I, made her. She learned her lessons well and did the only thing she could do--survive. The instinct to go on living is strong and beats within all of us to one degree or another. I, least of all, cannot blame her for being human.

I taught her to kill and taught her self-preservation, betraying her whenever necessary to keep her safe. Always, I have to be the best at what I do. I succeeded. That it comes back to haunt me is just.

For Nikita I betrayed everything and everyone. I deserve nothing better.

Did she ever love me? I want to say yes, but the pain of her denial is still too fresh.

Will I wander these woods until Section One finds me?

No. You see, my survival instinct is too strong. There have been times when I doubted my will to live, but as you see, I have survived. Survived the loss of Simone, separation from my son . . . and a good woman who loved me. I didn't deserve it, but Nikita stood by me and softened those losses. But now she is lost to me.

I endure. It's what I do best.

One foot in front of the other.

Out of these woods

I carry with me two things.

The love of my son,

And the memory of Nikita branded on my heart.

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