Prologue: Resistance....

Chapter 13

Nikita walked closely beside Michael as they moved through the halls of Section One. She took every opportunity to brush against and touch him. He had already admonished her once to be careful but she was enjoying her teasing, spontaneous caresses. Despite her circumstances, she was happy and it was difficult for her to hide her emotions. Nikita impulsively kissed Michael on the cheek when she thought no one was looking.

"Please Nikita, we must be careful," Michael told her again.

"No one is watching us, don't be so paranoid."

"In Section, someone is always watching."

"Come by my apartment tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"If I can but I can't promise anything."

"If you come, I'll make it worth your while," she whispered to him seductively.

"I'll try. I have to go now. Operations is expecting my report soon and I need to finish it." He turned and walked away. He had become more detached and impassive since setting foot back in Section. Nikita saw this as a challenge.

He had just turned the corner when Nikita remembered that she needed to tell him that she wouldn't be home till after eight. She followed.

Michael had just entered his office, unbuttoned his jacket and sat at his keyboard when Operations walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He did not look pleased in spite of the successful outcome of the Red Cell operation. Michael rose and buttoned his jacket. Although it could not be seen from his imperturbable features, he was tense and alert for disaster.

"Nikita seems very cheerful," Operations said casually while challenging Michael with his gaze. "You're not making a mistake, are you Michael?"

"I'm not making a mistake," Michael answered unflinchingly.

"Are you having sex with her?" Ops asked bluntly.

Michael held Operations stare.

He did not see Nikita as she approached his door. She didn't mean to eavesdrop but when she heard Operations' voice coming from Michael's office, she thought she shouldn't interrupt them. Instead, she chose to wait outside the door. She could clearly hear the conversation.

Michael decided not to answer the question directly. Lies could be disguised with the truth. "Nikita is a good operative. She has a lot of potential but remains too emotional. She wants to do things her way, set her own priorities."

Operations acknowledged the truth of Michael's words. They had discussed this before.

"A physical relationship between us should give me more control over her, make her less resistant to Section's way of doing things."

Operations considered this and nodded. "That has proved an effective strategy in the past. OK, we'll see what happens but be discrete."

"Of course." Michael was privately very pleased though of course it did not show in his expression. He had just received Operations' blessing to pursue a relationship with Nikita. He felt, almost, hopeful.

Nikita almost burst into the room when she heard Ops ask Michael such a personal question. He had no right prying into her private life so long as it didn't affect her effectiveness in Section. She wanted, however, to hear Michael's answer. She expected him to deny any relationship. Instead she heard him coldly describe their passion as another attempt to control her, another manipulation. Angry tears filled her eyes. He had done it to her again. His initial resistance was just a calculated show. She had been made a fool once more. She backed away from the door and waited for Operations to leave.

"I'll have your mission report soon?" Operations asked.

"It's almost completed."

"Good. Bring it to my office when it's done. I have a profile I need to go over with you. I know you just came in from a mission but it looks like it's going to be a late night." He left Michael to his work.

Nikita watched from down the hallway. Seeing that Michael was now alone, she made her way to his office. She slipped in, shutting the door behind her.

Michael looked up when his door opened. Nikita slipped in but stood just inside the door, coming no further into the room. He could tell by the set of her shoulders, the defiant tilt of her head and the tears that shimmered in her eyes that something was very wrong. "Nikita...."

"No! No, Michael don't say anything. I heard what you told Operations. Just tell me one thing. Was it all planned from the beginning or was it just a spur of the moment thing. I said I would take whatever you could give but I never expected you to give me more lies." Her initial hurt had turned into a protective anger. "You want to crush my emotions, well, you've partially succeeded. I don't feel anything, anything for you, anymore. Congratulations, you can report to Operations one more mission successfully completed." Her tirade finished, she left a stunned Michael.

Michael had never had a chance to interrupt Nikita's angry accusation. He had said those things to Operations to make sure their relationship would be condoned. She had overheard but believed the lies to be the truth and now thought the truth was a lie. He and Nikita had come full circle.

Re-entering Section One was like a sleeper stirring from his slumber, the dream already forgotten before he fully awakens. Emotions had no place in Section. There are no happy endings, just endings.

The End and on to the next beginning

Dissidence

Nikita stood outside the door, mentally preparing herself. This would undoubtedly be unpleasant, possibly even dangerous. She was going in alone, without back up. If only she knew what to expect once the door was opened. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself for anything, she went in.

Madeline looked up from the monitor as Nikita entered. "You're late."

"I was detained in my debriefing," Nikita explained. She didn't apologize, it was best not to show weakness. She took her seat.

Turning the monitor so Nikita could not see what was on the screen, Madeline smiled in a disarming fashion. "Well, you're here now."

Nikita smiled back displaying a confidence that she didn't feel. Her one stint as a team leader showed her the benefit of pretending to be something that she wasn't. However, it wasn't easy to fake self-assurance in the face of Madeline's acute perceptions, still, nothing ventured. The silence stretched out as Nikita waited for Madeline to speak. She thought that her ability to tolerate the waiting was, in itself, something of a test. The women silently regarded one another. Finally, heedful of some unspoken signal, Madeline began.

"I've been reviewing your most recent performance indicators. I am very pleased with the results. I noted that you have been working with several different team leaders lately. All of them have also, with reservations in some cases, given you good evaluations."

Nikita leaned forward in her chair, "with reservations?"

Madeline nodded noncommittally, "some reported that you had difficulty focusing on the mission if there were innocents in the area. They voiced their opinion that your concern for them was a potential distraction but also reported that you did perform your duties adequately."

"Well," Nikita sitting back said, "no harm, no foul."

"I've also noted that since your return from the mission in which you and Michael compromised Red Cell's computer systems and decimated their command structure that Michael has decreased his inclusion of you in his team." Madeline watched Nikita closely. When Nikita didn't respond, she continued.

"You and Michael work well together, yet since the successful Red Cell mission, he has included you in only a third of his missions. Prior to that, you were included on more than ninety percent of his mission teams. Anomalies such as that are usually significant. Is there a reason that Michael is not including you in his teams?"

Nikita struggled and succeeded in keeping her face composed. "I really don't know why Michael does the things he does. You should ask him."

"I'm asking you." Madeline looked at her expectantly.

Nikita shrugged.

"Did something happen on the Red Cell mission that wasn't covered in the debriefing?"

"Nothing that I specifically remember," Nikita answered cautiously.

Madeline swiveled in her chair and slowly turned the monitor so that Nikita could see the screen. "Perhaps this could refresh your memory."

The monitor showed an internal security tape of Nikita walking closely beside Michael as they moved through the halls of Section One. She took every opportunity to brush against and touch him. Nikita was smiling brightly and making no attempt to hide her happiness. She watched herself impulsively kissed Michael on the cheek.

"Please Nikita, we must be careful," Michael told her.

"No one is watching us, don't be so paranoid," Nikita heard herself naively say.

"In Section, someone is always watching."

"Come by my apartment tonight?"

"If I can but I can't promise anything."

"If you come, I'll make it worth your while," she seductively whispered.

"I'll try. I have to go now. Operations is expecting my report soon and I need to finish it." The taped showed him turn and walk away. The monitor then went black.

Madeline asked Nikita again, "Did something happen on the mission that was not covered in the debriefing?"

Nikita crossed her arms and looked straight ahead, suddenly defiant, feeling anew the anger she felt when she first learned of Michael's manipulation.

"Oh, are you talking about Michael's pretense of letting me seduce him, the deliberate manipulation of my feelings, the, oh, how did he explain it to Operations, the initiation of a physical relationship to make me less resistant to the demands of Section? Is that the thing that happened on the mission that we didn't discuss in the debriefing that you're talking about Madeline? Let me ask you a question. Are you the one that developed that little profile or did Michael think of it all by himself?"

Madeline listened, slightly stunned by what she was hearing. She immediately recognized Michael's ploy for what it was: an attempt to manipulate Section into condoning a relationship between himself and Nikita, not an attempt to manipulate Nikita into compliance. She didn't let her surprise at Nikita's little revelation show. "How did you find out Michael's intentions?" she asked mildly.

"It doesn't matter how I found out, only that I did," Nikita countered.

"Still, I want you to tell me," Madeline insisted.

Nikita hugged herself tighter and looked at the ceiling before consciously forcing herself into a more relaxed position. "I overheard Michael talking to Operations about it right after we returned."

"It was careless of Michael to allow himself to be overheard," was Madeline's only comment.

"Yeah," Nikita said in a strangely expressionless voice, "careless."

"Given the change in Michael's staffing patterns, I can assume that he became aware of your knowledge."

Nikita nodded, "Oh, yes, he became aware in no uncertain terms." Nikita stood. "Well, you've had your anomaly explained. Can I leave now or was there something else?"

"I've discovered everything that I needed. You may go." Madeline didn't watch Nikita exit her office. She was rewatching the tape from the security camera. Her index finger gently tapped her lip as she considered what she was watching and how she could use the information she had obtained. Suddenly smiling to herself, she activated her intercom. "Walter, report to my office immediately."

*********

Operations slowly paced the length of the table. Opposite him sat the operatives whom he was briefing. Their attention was focused on the 'blue' screen which showed the face of an older but distinguished looking man. "This is Lord Montague Braithwaite. He is a politically active, well connected, wealthy commodities broker. We believe he is also illegally brokering excess armaments from certain middle European countries that are in need of hard currencies to African and Middle Eastern extremist groups. A green listed informant indicated that Braithwaite is fielding offers for half a kilogram of weapons grade plutonium. While we have good reason to believe this is true, we have no hard evidence. Given Lord Braithwaite's position, certain care must be taken. We need to get close to him and into his files to obtain proof of his involvement and identify his suppliers. We will then shut off the supply at the source and provide the information on Braithwaite to more legitimate channels."

Operations paused in his pacing and faced his operatives. "Unfortunately, despite numerous attempts, we have been unable to place an operative close to Braithwaite." A new face showed on the screen. "This is Donald Rourke, a one-time IRA explosives expert who decided it was more financially lucrative to export his skills. We have been able to determine that Rourke has made contact with Braithwaite in hopes of purchasing some C-4 explosives. The date of the meet has not been obtained but will likely occur within the next two weeks."

Operations walked to the end of the table. "Luckily for us, one of Rourke's crew accidentally blew himself up while making a bomb in his garage. Word is out that Rourke is looking to replace him before the Braithwaite meet. Michael and Madeline are completing the profile that will place one of our people in Rourke's camp. Everyone here is on close quarters stand by. We start sequencing in forty-eight hours."

********

Madeline answered the insistent buzzing of her phone. As she listened, a slow predatory smile formed on her perfect lips. She returned the receiver to its cradle and looked at the man who sat across from her. "We have him." She and Michael both stood. He followed her from the room and they headed to interrogation.

********

The man's wrists and ankles were secured with metal restraints that were built into a monstrosity of a metal chair. He looked to be about thirty-five. A large scarred area covered the lower portion of his jaw. It looked as if it could have been the result of a burn. His hair was long, dark and disheveled. His eyes were also dark and currently wide with fear. "Who are you people?"

Madeline slowly completed her circuit around the man until she stood directly in front of him. Without preamble she began. "You recently met with Donald Rourke regarding joining his group. Tell me everything that you remember."

The fear in the man's eyes turned to anger. "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled with macho bravado.

Madeline's calm expression never changed. She lifted her eyes to look at the large man standing behind her captive. He nodded and stepped forward, pressing a stun gun to the bound man's neck. The man arched his back and went rigid. Once the electrodes were removed, he slumped over as far as he could, panting from the pain. Madeline gave him a few minutes to recover before beginning again. "You recently met with Donald Rourke regarding joining his group. Tell me everything that you remember. I will not ask you again."

The bound man felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach at her clinical, almost detached voice. His heart pulsed rapidly and he couldn't seem to control his breath which came in ragged gasps. The fear returned to the man's eyes. He told her everything he could recall.

********

Nikita stormed through the hallways of Section while she reflected on her meeting with Madeline. Her interview had rekindled her anger at Michael for his apparent attempt to manipulate her through sex. She just wanted to get out of Section. Maybe go home and take a shower, try to feel clean again.

"Hey, Sugar," Walter said in greeting as Nikita walked past his station. However, when she turned toward him and he got a good look at her face, he straightened himself and added in mock terror, "I am sure glad looks can't kill. What ever it is Sugar, I didn't do it."

"Bite me, Walter," Nikita said with forced exasperation. Walter's mere presence a balm to her dark mood.

"Oh, Sugar, don't I wish," Walter teased with a wistful sigh. When no sarcastic response was fired back, he realized the extent of her upset. More seriously, he indicated the stool beside his station. "Come on, have a seat and tell me what's wrong."

Nikita hesitated a minute and, with a slight shrug, sat down, her anger fading, though the sense of betrayal remained. She gave Walter a weak smile. He was one of the few people in Section that she could positively claim as a friend. "Thanks for the offer Walter, but I'll just have to work it out for myself."

Walter wasn't put off by her refusal to discuss what had upset her. He pressed her for more information. "Sure, Sugar, we all have to work things out for ourselves but tell me, is it a man or a mission?"

"What?"

"A man or a mission. As angry as you looked, it had to be one or the other."

They heard the footsteps before Madeline, closely followed by Michael, walked past the work station. Walter watched as Michael stole a quick glance at Nikita before continuing down the hall in Madeline's wake. He noticed that Nikita lowered her eyes to stare at her hands, her lips compressed to a thin line. After they were out of sight, Walter lowered his head so that it was close to Nikita's and whispered conspiratorially, "A man."

Nikita looked at him, her expression slowly changing into one of resolve. "You've been in the Section a long time, Walter. Tell me, has Michael always been a cold blooded bast--." Walter's wide grin stopped her and she decided to rephrase what she was going to say. "Has he always been so focused?"

Walter reached over and picked up a piece of equipment which he studied with deliberation. "You've been an active operative, for what, about a year and a half? If you count the time you were captured by the Freedom League after the Shay's mission, two years max."

Nikita nodded, her confusion at his evasion of her question evident in her slightly furrowed brow.

"Well, Michael's been a operative for almost all of his adult life."

Nikita looked at him aghast. "Are you telling me that when I've been here as long as he has, I'll be the same way? If you are, forget it. I'll never be like him. I'll never use people the way he does."

Walter shook his head. "What I'm saying, Sugar, is that maybe you should cut him some slack."

"You know Walter, somehow, I never thought that you would take his side," Nikita muttered.

"Hey, babe, I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm just saying that Michael is the way he is for a reason. I'm also saying that if you think Michael has deceived you, then take a second and closer look at what was going on."

Nikita cynically repeated, "A second look?"

"A second look, Sugar," Walter nodded shrewdly. "Don't always assume it's YOU that Michael's trying to manipulate."

Nikita's eyes widened as if that thought had never before occurred to her. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a disembodied voice coming from Walter's intercom telling her to report back to Madeline's office.

********

Madeline appraised Operations of what she had learned. "We'll need to revise the profile," she related.

"So Mr. Rourke will only hire married men. How odd," Operations mused.

"Not odd at all. There are a number of reasons he may have such a preference. He may feel that a married man has already shown an ability to make a commitment, would likely be more stable and less incline to take risks or he may just want the added benefit of being able to ensure discipline by being able to threaten his men's family," Madeline explained.

"Well, whatever his reasons," Operations continued, "we need to make adjustments. Who are you going to pair with Michael?"

"I thought I'd send Nikita. They work well together and have performed husband-wife scenarios successfully in the past. I've already sent for her, she'll need to get up to speed quickly."

Operations frowned slightly but had no valid reason to dispute Madeline's choice. It would be interesting to see how this particular scenario played itself out. "I'm sure you know how to best handle this situation," he noted somewhat cryptically as he turned to leave.

"Of course," Madeline replied without a hint of humor.

*********

The meeting with Rourke was to take place in a private room of a very exclusive men's club in the heart of London. Michael was escorted to the rendezvous by two extremely large and extremely dangerous looking men. He was dressed more like a corporate executive - hair slicked back into a pony-tail at the nape of his neck, glasses with black frames, expensive suit and briefcase - than the mercenary he was pretending to be.

The room to which he was escorted was paneled in dark oak and furnished in leather wing-backed chairs, an oak bar and a heavy antique desk. It was all very tasteful and very expensive, a deliberately contrived setting designed for the comfort of powerful men. However, the dark decor gave the room an ominous air. Mr. Rourke was standing at the bar pouring a drink when Michael arrived. Michael recognized him immediately from the "holo" shown in the mission briefing. Mr. Rourke regarded Michael while one of his "escorts" shut the door with a definitive click. The other took out a metallic wand and passed it slowly over Michael, head to toe, back and then front. When the wand passed over his gun, concealed by his jacket, lights ran from the base to the tip. The other "escort" then slowly reached into Michael's jacket and removed his weapon. He walked over to Mr. Rourke and laid it on the bar where he stood.

Mr. Rourke regarded the gun and then looked thoughtfully at Michael. He nodded to the guard to continue. The guard then ran the wand across the briefcase. Again, it flashed. The guard dutifully carried the attaché case to Mr. Rourke and sat it in front of him. Mr. Rourke picked it up and laid it on the bar, beside the gun. He carefully lifted the latches and slowly raised the lid. He stared at what he saw for a few seconds and then broke into a sly smile. He turned back to Michael and gave his men a significant look. They moved back and stood on either side of the door. He then moved toward Michael, his hand extended to grasp Michael's in a firm shake.

"Welcome, Mr. Michaels," Mr. Rourke said with only a hint of his Irish accent audible. "Would you care for a bit of a drink?"

"No, thank you," Michael replied, falling into his role.

Mr. Rourke then gestured Michael to one of the chairs while he moved to perch on the desk. "Tell me, why did you want to see me?"

Michael unbuttoned his jacket and removed his glasses before sitting. Looking slowly around the room, he finally leveled his gaze on Mr. Rourke. He said in a careful, deliberate tone, "I heard that you might be looking for an associate."

"Really, now, and who would have told you that?"

"Bauer."

"Perry Bauer?"

Michael nodded.

"Well, Bauer is a well respected member of our little community."

Michael smiled slightly. "He's slime, but well-connected slime."

Rourke laughed. "Well, I see that you really *do* know Perry." Then more soberly, "And tell me, what makes you think that I would want you in my organization?"

"You just looked at a sample of my work."

Rourke walked back over to the open briefcase and gently lifted an electronic detonator out of its foam padding. "Yes, and very nice work it is. Tell me, what is the extra wire for?"

Michael stood and walked over to Rourke, taking the detonator out of his hands and turning it over. His finger traced the length of the connection. "This is so the timer can not be disabled. If someone tries to disarm the detonator, this will cause the clock to go to zero and the bomb to immediately explode."

"Hmmm," Rourke said thoughtfully. "Is there a way around the fail-safe?"

"Of course," Michael replied matter-of-factly.

"What is it?"

"Secret."

Laughing, Mr. Rourke took the detonator back and returned it to its cradle. "I like you, Mr. Michaels. I like you very much." He paused. "Are you a married man?"

Michael became very still. "I don't want my wife involved in my business. It's safer for her and for me."

"Yes, of course," Rourke said simply. "Do you have any children?"

Michael shook his head. "Not yet. Someday, we hope."

"Now what would your wife be saying about you blowing up other peoples' children?"

"She wouldn't know." Michael waited a heart beat before continuing his explanation. "One group of people has always wanted to kill members of another group. That's the way the world is and always has been. I didn't make the world the way it is, I only live in it and I want to live well. I have certain skills and knowledge for which people are willing to pay. It's not my concern how they use that skill."

"So, you're not an idealist then?"

"I'm a realist."

"As am I," Mr. Rourke said, retrieving his glass and raising it to Michael in a silent salute. "I do believe that you and I could come to an arrangement, but before I decide, I want to meet your wife."

"I told you, I don't want her involved."

"Sorry, Mr. Michaels, but I must insist. I treat my associates like family and I want to meet all the in-laws. Don't worry, you can tell her that I have a private demolition firm and that I'm thinking of hiring you. That should satisfy your sense of propriety. In fact, why don't you spend the weekend with me at my country home. That will give us all a chance to get to know each other and decide if an association is in everyone's best interest. If we both agree, then we'll negotiate your financial compensation."

Michael seemed to consider the offer. "All right."

"Do you have a car in town?"

"Yes."

Mr. Rourke went to the desk and wrote on a tablet of paper laying there. He tore off the page and handed it to Michael. "Here's the address. It's a few hours out of town. I'll be expecting you tonight."

Michael nodded his agreement. "I want my gun back. You can keep the detonator. Consider it a free sample."

Mr. Rourke nodded to a guard who picked up the weapon and handed it to Michael. Michael slipped it back into his jacket and turned to leave. Mr. Rourke called to him before he opened the door. "If we're going to be associates, I should know your first name."

Michael turned to face him, "Michael."

Rourke grimaced, "Michael Michaels?"

Michael shrugged.

"I'm Donald. I'll be looking forward to seeing you and your wife tonight."

Michael turned and left. After a second, one of Mr. Rourke's men followed him.

Once on the street, Michael walked east for two blocks. He was aware that he had picked up a shadow. He stopped at a corner, put back on his glasses and adjusted his tie before proceeding up the street.

From an upper window in a building across from that corner, a man lowered his field glasses and spoke into a comm unit, "He's in. Send Nikita to rendezvous with him at point B."

********

Michael met Nikita at an outdoor cafe. She stood and smiled at him. When he approached her, she hugged him. "I see the mark," she whispered in his ear.

"Good, tell me when he leaves."

Nikita twined her arm in his and led him to a table. They sat, Michael with his back to the man following him. Nikita had a good view. She surreptitiously watched the man who was watching them. In only a few minutes, the man turned and left. "He's gone," Nikita informed Michael.

Michael acknowledged her report with a slight nod. He didn't want to look at her, afraid of the accusation he might see in her eyes. He was certain that she was angry about being paired with him on this mission, about having to pretend to be his wife. Her behavior over the last several weeks had clearly illustrated her antipathy toward him. He knew the cause. He had tried to limit her contact with him, fighting his own desire to be with her, in the expectation that by doing so he could pacify her anger and she would eventually understand the reason for his apparent deception. He thought it best to continue to limit their contact. "Return to Section. We'll need to leave in a few hours to make our time table. I'll meet you there." He rose and left her sitting by herself. She silently watched him walk away from her.

A few hours later, Nikita found herself being driven by Michael to Rourke's home in the country. Remembering her briefing, she thought that "small mansion" would probably be a better description. The house had two wings, an ornamental garden, stables and a highly sophisticated security system. The power of the system effectively blocked electronic surveillance. That was one reason they had to get inside. The system needed to be disabled in order to be able to obtain access to Rourke's data files and provide a full display of the house schematics. The other reason was to get close to Rourke in anticipation of him giving the Section access to Braithwaite.

The drive was quiet. Michael was never one to engage in idle conversation and Nikita decided to use the time to considered Walter's advice. She tried to put herself in Michael's position and think in his focused, goal directed fashion. She had believed Michael was trying to manipulate and deceive her, but she needed to determine if that had actually been his agenda. His behavior, though, confused her. If she was wrong in her accusations, why didn't he try to defend himself? If he truly cared about her, why had he been distancing himself? Maybe this mission was an excuse for an attempted reconciliation. Her heart beat faster at that thought! She sighed and wondered how she could love Michael so desperately and still feel such anger whenever she thought about him. Why did love have to hurt so badly? Her admission to herself that she loved him momentarily startled her. She shook her head ruefully and settled herself more comfortably into her seat for the rest of the drive.

There was a camera at the security gate to Rourke's home. As the car stopped, the camera hummed quietly and adjusted its focus. The gate opened. Michael drove about a half of a kilometer down a narrow, one lane road lined along both sides with trees. While Nikita appreciated the beauty of the drive, Michael was thinking that the arrangement was highly defensible. The narrow road could be easily blocked and the trees effectively pinned in a vehicle, making its occupants vulnerable to attack. The long shaded driveway ended in a circular drive and the house.

Michael pulled the car to the front of the house, parallel to the door. As soon as he stopped, the door opened and Rourke, followed by one of his security men, stepped out and waited for him. Michael got out of the car and went around to open the door for Nikita. Putting his arm loosely around her waist, he led her up the short flight of steps to introduce his wife to Mr. Rourke.

*********

It was well after nine o'clock, twilight having long ago given way to night, when Michael stepped into the room that Rourke gave him to share with his "wife." It was a large, tastefully decorated room with its own bath. A four poster bed and matching nightstand stood against one wall while a desk, table and a few chairs completed the furnishings. He stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room and taking in every detail. Nikita was sitting in a chair situated beside a large window that overlooked the carefully maintained gardens. She looked at him as he entered and then turned back to the window.

"The room is clear. We aren't being monitored," she informed him.

He nodded once and walked further into the room, still silent.

"Did you request me for this mission, Michael? Or was it Madeline's idea?" she asked still staring out the window.

"Does it matter?" he quietly responded.

Nikita angrily stood and turned to him. "Michael, WHY is it that you can't answer a simple question? Is it some kind of BIG secret? Did you request me so we could work on my FIELD MECHANICS again? Is THAT why I'm here?"

Michael looked at her without expression. "You're here because the profile demanded that I have a wife. Don't worry. Since we're not being monitored, you won't have to pretend to care once the door is closed."

"Yeah, that pretty well sums up our relationship doesn't it, PRETEND to CARE! Tell me Michael, have you ever really cared about me or was it all just a case of pretending for the sake of getting the job done?" As she spoke, she walked to within a few feet of him. Her eyes searching his for some glimmer that would let her know if he was speaking the truth.

"I told you that I have feelings for you Nikita," Michael said solemnly.

"Feelings?" Nikita repeated angrily. "What kind of feelings, Michael? Affection? Hatred? Envy? Lust? It COULDN'T be LOVE could it? NO, of course not! After all, you don't know what love IS anymore, DO you!"

Michael looked at her without expression, then turned and began to walk away.

"Right, Michael," Nikita spat. "You don't want to talk about it so you just leave. How typical. What is it, Michael? Are you treating us like a mission gone bad? Just withdraw? Abort?"

Michael turned on her faster than she could react. He pinned her against the wall with his body, his hands clutching her wrists, keeping her arms at her sides. "Attack!" he whispered fiercely and then silenced her with a kiss, a rough, passionate, possessive kiss. Nikita struggled briefly against him but then slowly returned his passion measure for measure. Eventually the kiss became more gentle, though the passion remained. For a brief, bright second, each became lost in the essence of the other, the hot sensuous pleasure of touching one's desire. Then, the moment was over. Michael reluctantly broke the kiss and stepped back from Nikita, though his hands lingered on her wrists.

She gazed at him, bright eyes tinged with sorrow. "Why couldn't you just have told me that you were going to talk to Operations? Why did you let me believe, for so long, that it was just another manipulation of me? Help me to understand, please."

Michael breathed deeply but held her gaze. He wanted her to believe that he was being truthful with her. "When Operations came to see me after the Red Cell decimation, I took the opportunity as it presented itself. When he asked if I had made a mistake, I told him what he wanted to hear. I gave him a lie that sounded like a Section truth when I said that a physical relationship between us would make you more accepting of Section's demands. I had to get him to sanction the relationship, Nikita. No matter how careful we were, eventually, they would've found out."

Michael paused before continuing, as if searching for the right words. "Afterward, when you accused me of using our..night together..to manipulate you, it made me realize that you really didn't trust me. I don't blame you but without trust, it wouldn't have been a relationship, just sex. You deserve more than that, more than I am able to give you."

"Michael, you are so wrong. I DO trust you. I trust you with my life. It was my mistake not to trust you with my heart as well."

"Nikita, no, you're right not to trust me. I have not always given you truth and I will not always be able to in the future. I have lied to you, to Operations, to Madeline and even to myself so often that sometimes it's difficult for me to tell truth from deception. So often there seems to be no difference between the two."

Finally he released her wrists. His fingers slid down her hands and he gently clasped one and then brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. He then slowly dropped her hand and placed his in the pockets of his jacket. "We shouldn't try again. It's better this way."

"I don't know how to let you go, Michael. I've tried and I can't."

"Nikita..." Michael started to deny her words but she interrupted him.

"Be with me, Michael."

Michael remained silent, caressing her face with his eyes. He slowly began to shake his head and back away. "There can be no future for us."

"Let the future take care of itself. I want to LIVE in the present. Please, be with me," she whispered.

He stopped.

"Be with me."

His need for her battled with his intellect. He could number all the reasons they could not and should not be together. Defying his own logic, he returned to her embrace.

**********

Some hours later, Michael held Nikita in the darkness. He lay on his back, her head pillowed on his bare chest. She was the light in his darkness. He only hoped that his corruption would not extinguish her innate humanity. Her every touch was a revelation to him. It caused him to experience feelings that he had believed himself incapable of any longer feeling. It scared him. It scared him to want her and to need her so badly because, ultimately, he feared he would lose her as he had lost all for whom he had ever truly cared. He was not certain that he could survive her loss. He was not certain that he would want to.

Michael glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. "Nikita, it's time."

*********

Although Section had not yet breached Mr. Rourke's security system, they were aware of what it entailed. This information had been thoughtfully supplied by the security firm that had installed the device. External security and monitoring was much more extensive than internal monitoring. Primarily, this was because the house was Rourke's main residence and too intrusive security measures inside the house would be an inconvenience to him and his guests. After the system was set, opening a window or door would alert the system's human observer. Camera's randomly monitored the hallways. Infra-red beams, if broken by someone walking through them, would cause the cameras to focus on that point and then motion sensors would allow them to track the potential intruder as they made their way through the house. All of this could be viewed by the person monitoring the security screens and said screens were watched by one of Rourke's security personnel twenty-four, seven. Once the system was triggered, it had to be reset. Shutting down and resetting the system took five minutes. It was this five minutes that was critical to the night's success.

Nikita slipped from the bedroom dressed in a deep scarlet silk chemise. While covering all items of vital interest, it left little to the imagination, especially if the person watching had a good imagination. She walked slowly down the darkened hallway. Michael slipped out a few seconds later. He was wearing polarized glasses that allowed him to see the security beams. While Nikita glided slowly through them, causing the cameras and the man watching the monitors to focus on her lascivious form, Michael lay on his back and slid below them. At the bottom of the stairs, Nikita walked off in one direction while Michael stealthily moved down the opposite, toward Rourke's office.

Michael looked up and down the hallway before opening the door to the office. It was, of course, unlocked. What man locked the door to his office in his own home? Especially when he had a security team and system to rely on for his protection. Once inside he moved first to the phone. He screwed off the mouth piece and inserted a transmitter that would allow the Section to tap all phone conversations made from the phone. He quickly did the same to the computer's modem line. When the system was reset, the transponder in the detonator with which he had gifted Rourke would send various information to Section, including house schematics. Finished with his part in the night's clandestine activities, Michael slipped from the room and went to retrieve "his wife."

Nikita wandered to the end of the hallway and peaked into another that ran perpendicular to it. Seeming to come to a decision, she turned and almost collided with a big man who had quietly walked up to stand behind her. She emitted a startled squeak, backed up a few steps and attempted to pull her chemise more closely around her. The large man leered at her, his eyes slowly traveling up and down her body. "I..I was looking for the kitchen," she attempted to explain in a faltering voice. "I couldn't sleep and thought some hot milk might help."

"Nikita?" a softly accented voice said from the direction of the stairs. Both turned to see Michael standing in the hallway, clad in dark silk pajama bottoms and robe.

"Michael!" Nikita slipped around the large man and hurried to "her husband." The security man watched her. Once reaching Michael, Nikita slid modestly behind him.

Michael spared a glance at the security man and then spoke to Nikita. "I woke and you were gone. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, just fine," Nikita hastily said. "Like I was explaining to Mr..Mr..ah, this man here, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought some hot milk might help and I went looking for the kitchen."

Michael nodded and looked at Rourke's man. "Is there a problem?"

"Mrs. Michaels tripped the security alarm when she went wandering through the hallways. For future reference, the system is activated after Mr. Rourke retires and remains on until seven in the morning, when Mr. Rourke customarily rises." Having said what needed saying, he walked past the couple.

Michael put his arm around Nikita and walked her back to their bedroom. Once inside, with the door safely shut, Michael took a comm link from his luggage. "Team one, are you receiving?" Getting no reply, he waited a second and tried again. "Team one, are you receiving?"

"We're receiving. House electronics are down and the transponder is transmitting a clear signal. The computer files are being downloaded via the modem connection. Systems will begin analysis of the data once transfer is complete."

"Maintain position until further notice. Be available for possible backup." Michael returned the link to its hiding place and faced Nikita. "It's late, we should try to sleep."

Nikita looked coyly at her bare feet. "I don't know Michael, I'm wide awake. I just don't know if I can relax enough to get to sleep."

"You need help relaxing?" he asked with a curious mixture of caution and hope.

Nikita walked slowly up to Michael. She moved so closely that she could feel his breath upon her face. She looked at him through lowered lashes. "Yes, I do."

**********

The next morning it was clear that Mr. Rourke was not suspicious of Nikita's late night wanderings. Apparently other guests had experienced similar incidents. After a pleasant breakfast, in which Michael let Nikita carry the weight of the conversation with their host, Mr. Rourke suggested a walk in the gardens.

The three strolled slowly for several minutes. Then Mr. Rourke asked Nikita to excuse them so he and Michael could talk business. After Nikita left them, Mr. Rourke and Michael continued to walk slowly.

"You have a lovely wife," Rourke began.

"Yes, I do."

"Tell me Michael, do you share?"

Michael stopped walking and faced Rourke. He answered cautiously, afraid he knew exactly what Rourke meant. "What do you mean?"

"Your wife, do you share?"

Michael paused. Would he need to offer Nikita in order to stay close to Rourke? What would he need to say in order to complete the sequence. What was he willing to do for the mission? What did Mr. Rourke expect of him? "No. If my working for you means that I have to allow you access to my wife, then I think you should find someone else."

Rourke smiled broadly. "Please, forgive me. I apologize if I offended you. Actually, I admire a man who has a strong sense of...commitment. It makes everything so much...simpler." Mr. Rourke stressed the last word as if it meant something else.

"Well, enough small talk and down to business." Rourke said this as if an issue had just been settled. "I have been contacted by a client who would like a bit of a blast in order to make a bit of a statement."

"A statement about what?"

"Loyalty. Tell me Michael, do you know what an honest politician is?"

Michael looked at him blankly and slightly shrugged. "A contradiction in terms?"

Rourke laughed. "It is a bit of an oxymoron isn't it." He then continued, "An honest politician is one who stays bought. My client wants to remind someone of that maxim. In order to do so, my client is looking for the biggest bang for his buck. I want you to build me a bomb."

**********

Later that afternoon, Rourke invited Nikita for a brief trip into the city. He wanted Michael to stay at the house and begin working on a special project. Nikita gladly accepted the invitation.

As soon as they had left, Michael went directly to the security monitoring room. As expected, he saw it was a different man on duty. While explaining about the night before and apologizing for causing a problem, he surreptitiously watched the timing and pattern of the external security monitors.

He then returned to his room and exited through the open window. He ran toward the gate, every six seconds taking cover behind one of the trees lining the drive. Eventually he made it to the wall and climbed over. Once on the other side, and free of the distorting electronic field caused by the security system, he called for team one to pick him up.

Michael accessed Section from the van. He wanted to update Operations on the progression of the scenario and find out if any relevant information had been retrieved from Rourke's computer files. Soon, he had Birkoff on the video screen. Operations was standing behind him.

"Michael," Birkoff began. "It looks like our original information was faulty. According to the information on Rourke's files, he's already met with Braithwaite." The focus of the vid screen changed and Operations interrupted the conversation. "It fact, not only has Rourke already met with Braithwaite, it appears that Rourke also purchased the plutonium. Therefore, the whole situation has changed. The Braithwaite mission in being put on hold, again. We need to concentrate on Rourke. I want that material recovered before it's sold to any terrorist factions. Bring him in now."

"Is Nikita with you?" Operations asked. He saw Michael shake his head negatively.

"Where is she now?"

"She's with the target," Michael answered.

"Good, inform her of the new plan." The video went blank. Michael set about contacting Nikita by comm link. He was talking with her in a few seconds.

*********

The limo stopped. The driver got out and opened the door for his employer and the long legged blonde. Once they were standing on the sidewalk, he got back in the limo and left. His instructions were to pick Rourke up later at a pre-arranged time and place.

Rourke offered Nikita his arm while in the other hand he carried a metallic brief case. He held it up to her saying, "I hope you don't mind but I thought I might have the opportunity to get a little work done while we're in town."

"No," Nikita said, taking his arm, "I don't mind at all."

"I'm quite impressed with your husband, Mrs. Michaels."

"Please, call me Nikita."

Rourke smiled charmingly at her. "Nikita." He went on, "I know you have been told that I'm in demolition, but it is actually a bit more than that. You're a bright woman and I think you should know the truth about Michael and me."

"What do you mean?" Nikita asked concern coloring her voice.

"Well, you see, darlin', your husband makes bombs and I take bombs and blow things up or sell them to others who use them to blow things up. Your husband makes very good bombs and I want to keep him making those bombs for me and only for me."

"I don't understand." Nikita stopped walking and pulled her arm away from his. Playing the part of the confused wife, she asked with her voice shaking, "Are you saying my husband is a terrorist?"

"Actually, he's more of a realist but why split hairs. Yes, lovely lady, your beloved husband is a terrorist. Now, as to why I am telling you this, it's all part of my grand plan."

Nikita suddenly heard Michael's voice over her comm link. "Nikita, the profile has changed. There's a new scenario. Rourke is to be immediately brought back to the Section for interrogation. We're in route to provide back-up and transport."

Rourke, oblivious to this silent exchange, continued, "the plan is to use you as a bargaining chip with your husband. A devoted and loving husband such as yours will do anything he's told in order to keep his wife happy and...safe."

"I'm afraid that's not the plan anymore," Nikita said. "The new plan is for you come with me." She drew her gun, quickly chambered a bullet, and pointed it at him.

Rourke looked at the gun and then raised his eyes to her face. Slowly a smile formed on his lips. "Hmm, I think you need a different plan." Rourke swung the metallic attaché case in an arc, startling Nikita and hitting her gun. He didn't wait but ran out of the alley and across the street, into the park.

Nikita recovered quickly. She picked up her gun and secreted it in her jacket. Dodging traffic, she ran across the street and followed him into the park.

The afternoon was bright and warm for the season. The park was brimming with people, walking, playing or just enjoying the sun. School buses were parked along one curb and small troops of children were gamboling under the watchful eyes of their teachers. Nikita momentarily lost sight of her quarry. She turned in a circle trying to catch sight of him. "I've lost him, Michael," she groaned into her comm link.

"Check the perimeter. Our ETA is..," there was a pause as Michael consulted the driver, "seventeen minutes."

Suddenly she caught a glimpse of Rourke on the other side of the children's play area. "I see him!" she exclaimed. She ran through crowd, children frolicking at her feet threatened to trip her and slowed down her progress. Finally, she made her way through only to find that she had lost Rourke again. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she chose a direction and ran.

Nikita finally caught up with Rourke in the alley where their original confrontation had taken place. Oddly, he didn't appear to be trying to escape her any longer. He was leaning casually against the south wall of an old brick and mortar building.

"Oops, it looks like ya caught me fair and square. Well, now, darlin', it looks like you have a bit of a moral dilemma. Do you take in the horrid arms dealer and part-time terrorist, or do you save the children? Poor little innocents that they are. But you only have time to do one. In fact, you only have thirty-two seconds. No, my mistake, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six....."

Nikita realized the trap immediately, but she couldn't let Rourke just walk away with that smug look on his face. She didn't have time for subtleties. Pointing her weapon at Rourke's right foot, she squeezed the trigger and then turned and ran back across the street, toward the bus and the children. She was gone before Rourke felt the first wave of pain.

**********

As soon as they re-entered Section One, Operations accosted Michael, demanding an explanation for how they had lost Rourke and disparaging his handling of the mission. Michael quietly accepted the abuse, making no attempt to defend himself or draw attention to Nikita's actions. Nikita had finally had enough. She exploded, "THEY WERE JUST CHILDREN!"

Everyone turned and looked at her. Operations had a dangerous glare in his eyes. One that held the promise of violent retribution for this interruption. Michael recognized that look from long experience. He had to redirect Operations' attention. He pivoted on Nikita, grabbing the front of her shirt and forcing her back against the wall. "Be quiet!" he ordered. He stepped back, dropping his hands from her shirt. "Go to my office and wait there." Nikita stood in shock, staring at him. "NOW!" Michael commanded. She straightened her shirt and with a scowl turned her back on him and walked, with what dignity she could muster, down the hall.

After seeing that he was going to be obeyed, Michael turned from Nikita and back to facing Operations. The two men stared at each other. One barely containing his ire and the other overtly calm. Suddenly Operations spoke. "Everyone is dismissed, except for you Michael." The other operatives quickly scattered. A look of relief evident on more than one face.

"I blame this on you Michael," he began in a quiet, intense voice. "I thought you were going to make her less resistant to the admittedly sometimes harsh demands of Section."

"There were complications," Michael returned.

"In other words, you can't do the job," Operations countered.

Michael remained silent.

"That was not a rhetorical question. Can you do the job or not?"

"I can handle it," the operative replied.

Ignoring the reply, Operation continued, "Maybe retraining is required."

"Nikita's performance evaluation is current. She was rated as more than adequate. There is no reason to have her retrained."

"I wasn't talking about Nikita. I was talking about you." Operations held the younger man's gaze for a few more seconds. "Consider Nikita in abeyance and clean up the mess she's made." Operations then turned sharply and left. Michael stood where he was for the space of a heart beat and then turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Michael paused outside the door to his office. Nikita was waiting for him inside and he was unsure of his reception. He opened the door and stepped inside. Nikita was sitting behind his desk. She looked up when he entered.

"I've really screwed up this time haven't I," she said finally.

Michael remained quiet rather than lie to her.

"Well, I don't care. In the same circumstance, I'd do the same thing again." She lifted her chin defiantly. "I'd do it again."

Michael finally spoke. "I know." He moved across the room until he stood beside her. He held out his hand to help her from his seat. She took it and stood. Since he didn't move back when she stood, her breasts lightly brushed his chest. Standing, their lips were only inches apart. He stared intently into her eyes. He could feel the heat of her, the whisper of her breath on his face.

Nikita, suddenly uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze and the sudden weakness in her knees, moved away from him and toward the door. She opened it to leave. With her back to him, she asked, "Am I in abeyance?" When he didn't immediately answer, she turned to look at him.

"I'll take care of it, Nikita."

Nikita gave him a sad smile. "I don't think you can this time Michael." She then left, closing the door quietly behind her. Michael looked at the closed door for a long time, his face not betraying his thoughts.

**********

Section One is a covert anti-terrorist organization. As part of its' charter, it gathers and coordinates information from a variety of sources. Its' operatives are trained in intelligence-gathering and analysis. It is little wonder then that rumor, innuendo and gossip passed through its unhallowed halls faster than electricity through a wire. Walter heard of Nikita's error only slightly after Operations was aware of the fact. Although he was technically off duty, he stayed at his station idly cleaning one weapon or another. He wanted to be available in case Nikita needed a sympathetic ear or words of encouragement. He just hoped he had some for her.

*********

Michael sat at his desk, feeling circumstances spin out of his control. He had once again begun to accept his feelings for Nikita and to hope...well, he wasn't certain what he had hoped for except that he not lose her. Then she was placed in abeyance, a certain death sentence. He could not accept it. He would not allow it. He felt something akin to desperation. With an effort of will he forced himself to focus. Desperation lead to panic and panic lead to mistakes. He couldn't afford mistakes. He would need to gamble. Gamble that he could anticipate Rourke's moves. Gamble that he would be able to quickly obtain the plutonium so that he could satisfy Operations. Still, luck was personified as a lady and he had been trained in the art of seduction.

"Birkoff."

The techno-computer wiz of Section thought he heard his name being uttered but was busy coordinating low priority incoming intelligence while simultaneously putting the finishing touches on a new training simulation. The sound didn't trigger the automatic reaction he had to the voice of Operations or Madeline so he decided that if he ignored the interruption, it might just go away.

"Birkoff."

This time Birkoff recognized the slight accent. He swiveled around to face the operative with an apology on his lips. It never paid to ignore Michael. Not to mention the man intimidated the hell out of him without even trying, without even raising his voice.

"I need you to pull up some data and route it to my computer."

"I'm kind of busy, Michael. It'll be a while before I can get to your request." He might intimidate me, Birkoff thought, but I'm still in charge of my area. I'm NOT at operatives' beck and call.

"The incoming intel is from a low priority source and the training sim you are working on is a personal initiative that you should do on your down time."

Well, so much for establishing territorial imperatives, Birkoff thought. "What do you need?"

"Pull up the house and security schematics on Rourke's residence that were transmitted during the five minutes that his system was disabled and route them to me. Is the transponder in the detonator still active?"

While busily typing in the required instructions, Birkoff considered the question. "Yeah, it should be. It should have enough energy to transmit for several more hours."

"Are we currently receiving?"

"You know it's not powerful enough to punch through the electrical interference of Rourke's security system."

"Check it."

Not wanting to argue but with an "I told you so" ready, Birkoff typed in the transponder's identification code. However, instead of a blank monitor, a steady stream of data flowed across the screen. "I've got something. Someone is moving with the detonator. I'll send the location coordinates to your PC."

"Fine." Michael's business with Birkoff complete, he turned to return to his office.

"Michael," Birkoff hastily interjected. Michael stopped and turned around. "I, ah, I heard that Nikita had some problems with the last mission. Is she going to be OK?"

Michael gave Birkoff a pointed look to warn him off the subject. He didn't know if Nikita would be all right, though he would try to protect her. He couldn't offer Birkoff the comfort he was seeking. Having nothing he could say, he said nothing.

Despite his reluctance to comfort Birkoff, Michael felt a small measure of relief while walking away from Systems. Luck was favoring him. The transponder's transmission was being received. That meant it had been taken off of the estate. Most likely, Rourke had it with him.

Michael coordinated the transponder's position with what he knew of Rourke's clientele and current surveillance on groups with a history of terrorist activities. The schematics of Rourke's house became superfluous as the estimated probability of an imminent transaction exceeded ninety percent.

Michael realized he was gambling that he could intercept the transaction. Unfortunately, he also realized that no matter what the outcome of his current plans, there was no assurance that Nikita would be removed from abeyance. He needed to consolidate his support and he needed to do it quickly.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Michael said. "I'd like your input on a possible scenario to bring closure to the Rourke assignment." Michael remained standing by the door, awaiting an invitation to proceed.

"I thought that assignment was a failure," Madeline replied evenly, indicating the chair opposite her desk.

"The mission parameters were not achieved, but I believe they still can be," Michael answered, after accepting the seat. He tried to keep his impatience from his voice but somehow he could feel the clock ticking on the wall.

"Michael," Madeline began as she leaned back in her chair, "You of all people know you don't need authorization to close the Rourke assignment. If you have developed an appropriate scenario, you should pursue it. You're a highly rated level five operative, but you've been distracted by less significant details."

"Details can have unrealized significance," Michael replied with his characteristic nonchalance.

"We're talking about Nikita, now" Madeline said flatly. "When Nikita was missing and presumed dead after the Shays mission, your efficiency ratings suffered. I hoped you had managed to sort out your difficulties to prevent a reoccurrence. Have I overestimated you, Michael?"

Michael kept himself composed, in spite of the churning in his stomach. Madeline had wasted no time in moving the discussion to the real topic. The end of this 'contest' was a forgone conclusion. He would forfeit whatever he must to save his queen. He knew, unfortunately, that she understood this and would use it to her own or Section's advantage. He was at the mercy of a woman who had none. His only hope lay in a reliance on Madeline's unique sense of justice. "Nikita is more valuable to Section than Operations believes," Michael countered. "Her actions may have supported the mission objectives in spite of appearances. I disagree with Operations decision to place Nikita in abeyance when the final outcome of the mission is unknown."

Michael was suspicious when Madeline smiled. "Perhaps we can come to an accommodation," she offered. "Tell me what you need....."

**********

After leaving Madeline's office, Michael became more aware of the fact that time was quickly passing and the window of opportunity was closing. Usually, Section appeared to go out its way to make its plans convoluted. This time, given the current constraints, simplicity seemed best. There was no time to assemble a team so he would have to go solo. Not the best scenario, since it increased the chance of error, but he had confidence in his ability to handle most situations. He contacted transport so that his vehicle would be waiting at Van Access and then headed to Walter's station to outfit himself in the necessary equipment.

*********

Nikita also found herself once again heading toward Walter's station. It never occurred to her that he wouldn't be there, despite the hour. Walter may not always make her feel better but he always gave her the truth and a sympathetic ear. He wouldn't condemn her for her actions. If anyone in Section would understand, she felt it would be him.

Nikita walked up to Walter's station and sat down. She watched as Walter appeared to calibrate a complicated piece of electronic equipment. He glanced up at her. "I wondered if you'd stop by before heading out," he said.

"I assume you've heard," Nikita commented.

"I think that just about everyone knows that something happened on the Rourke mission. Rumor being what it is, I don't think that most know exactly what it was, just that it put you in big time trouble with Operations."

"Big time trouble is putting it mildly." Nikita sighed, "It doesn't matter. I'd do it again. It was the right thing to do."

Walter laid down the piece he had been fooling with and stood across from her, leaning against the top of his counter. "I'm sure you think so, Sugar. But you know how it is, the Section golden rule, the good of the many rather than the good of the one or the few. As hard as it is to understand, so long as you don't buy into that, the longer you're gonna stay tore up inside."

Nikita clasped her fingers together and bowed her head, her hair curtaining her face. Then she looked up with defiance in her eyes. "The good of the many, yeah, right. And how do they determine the good of this fictional many, Walter? Projections, suppositions and statistics! They can't really predict what is going to happen. They can't really know the future. I know that, now, today, because of a choice I made, twenty-three children are still alive. I know that this night, twenty-three sets of parents are kissing their children good-night and tucking them into beds rather than spending the night at the morgue identifying body parts. That is the good of the many, Walter!"

"Section views Rourke as a threat to hundreds or even thousands, Sugar, so in that view the loss of twenty three isn't a bad trade. Maybe you did the right thing. I know that you believe you made the right choice. It's just that in Section, nothing outside of THEIR warped definition of right goes unpunished."

Nikita straightened herself. "I saved the life of those children! So long as I have that, it doesn't matter what they do to me."

Michael seemed to appear behind Nikita as if by magic. Certainly, neither Nikita or Walter saw him coming. Nikita wondered what, if anything, he had overheard. He looked at Nikita, meeting her eyes in silent communication. Nikita just wasn't sure what he was telling her. He was then all business. He handed a PDA to Walter. "I need this now."

Walter took the PDA and glanced at the requisition. "I wasn't aware of a pending mission."

"It's unpremeditated and non-scripted. Get the equipment on my authority."

"There's only enough here for one person. What about the rest of the team? Do you want me to send anything to van access?"

"No."

Walter saw the steel in Michael's eyes and decided against questioning him any further. He turned and walked back into the stacks.

Nikita listened to the exchange but waited for Walter to leave before confronting her former trainer and sometime lover. "You're going out without back-up!"

Michael briefly considered before answering. "There's no time to gather a team. I'll be fine."

Nikita made an small intuitive leap. "You're going after Rourke aren't you." She stood, "Michael, let me go with you as back-up."

Michael stared at her without responding.

"I let Rourke get away, let me help you bring him in. Maybe it'll help pacify Operations."

The silence lengthened as Michael looked at Nikita without answering. Finally, Walter returned and laid the gun, ammunition and other essentials on his counter. "Here's everything you requisitioned. Anything else you need?"

Michael turned his gaze from Nikita to answer Walter's inquiry. "Yes. Equip Nikita as well." He then looked back to the blonde operative. "Meet me at egress in five."

After giving Nikita what she would need on the impromptu mission and seeing her off, Walter called Madeline. "Madeline," he said in with quiet authority, "we need to talk and we need to talk now. You owe me and it's time for me to collect."

**********

The trip was filled mostly with silence. Michael briefed her on what he expected to find and what actions they would most likely need to take. He cautioned her, however, that the situation was unpredictable. They would likely need to improvise. Nikita would have liked to have spent the time talking about her hopes for their relationship, but with abeyance hanging over her head, it seemed fruitless to discuss it.

Michael had the van drop them at an old warehouse that Rourke often used to exchange money and merchandise. He was playing the odds that this is where Rourke would come now. He would know in a short while if his gamble would pay off. He and Nikita made their way up to an overhead cat walk and lay in wait. Almost before they had finished concealing themselves, the large front doors were being pulled open and the headlights of a car illuminated the space as Rourke's limo pulled into the warehouse. The car sat there, no one exiting. Several minutes later another car pulled in and parked as far away as the limited space allowed. As if on cue, car doors opened on both vehicles. Armed men got cautiously out and stood staring at each other. Rourke and his counter part were the last to exit, both carried large brief cases. Rourke walked forward to make the exchange but before he had taken more than a few steps, a shot was heard and one of the other delegation's men went down. The terrorists, paranoid as most of their ilk, thought themselves betrayed. They began to shoot at Rourke and his men. Rourke's bodyguards readily responded. In a few seconds, it was over. Nikita and Michael had helped by downing anyone who had been missed by the initial volley. They climbed down from their perch. While Michael went to Rourke and checked for a pulse, Nikita checked the status of the others.

Rourke was dead, as was everyone else. Michael took Rourke's brief case, carefully opened it and inspected the contents.

When Nikita looked up, he was still staring at the container of plutonium. "Michael?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she noted the odd expression on his face, almost as if hundreds of emotions were boiling just beneath that normally controlled facade. "Michael?" she asked again.

Michael exhaled slowly. Regaining his composure, he returned his attention to Nikita. He had not realized until that moment how much he had gambled on this transaction including the plutonium.

"We have what we came for and Rourke is dead. We should contact housekeeping and return to Section for debriefing," Michael stated, as if reciting a litany.

"I don't think Operations will forgive me simply because we're bringing in the plutonium, Michael," Nikita noted, sounding worried.

"Perhaps not right away. But if we had an ally who could sway his opinion......"

"What ally?" Nikita asked.

"You'll have to trust me to handle this one, Nikita," Michael said as he straightened and walked back toward the van's prearranged meeting spot with the case swinging nonchalantly at his side.

*********

Operations looked up as Madeline entered his office. She spoke without waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, "Michael's just returned from an impromptu mission. He brought the plutonium in and reports that Rourke is dead. He and Nikita are in debriefing now."

Operations frowned slightly as he looked up at Madeline. "Did you provide the profile for this mission?"

Madeline hesitated only a moment before explaining matter of factly, "No, but Michael asked me to tell you that I had. It seems he worked up a simulation which suggested a 95% probability that Rourke would panic after Nikita's abortive attempt to bring him in and try to sell the plutonium before relocating. Michael and Nikita interrupted the hastily planned transaction and were able to secure the material."

Understanding seemed to harden Operations resolve as he stood. "So, Michael hoped that I'd assume you had planned this as an alternate scenario and thereby accept Nikita's actions as part of the original plan?"

"Actually," Madeline began, "I was working on similar sims when they returned. The sims indicated that although we had a 70% chance of obtaining the location of the plutonium from a captive Rourke, the panic induced by Nikita's attempt to capture him and his wound actually increased our chances of intercepting the material to 95% if we acted quickly enough. It seems that Michael was ahead of me this time. His growing attachment to Nikita, while obviously a potential threat, appears to have worked to our advantage."

"So you think we should let them off the hook and encourage this kind of disobedience?" Operations asked.

"I think we should reward progressive thinking. If we appear to disapprove of their actions, we project a disapproval of initiative when plans change in the middle of a scenario. If, however, we reward them, we encourage others to take greater risks when unforeseen circumstances interrupt the established plans. Further, some will assume that Michael's scenario was planned by Section and the curious will find the sims I worked out in the system, which will further entrench this belief. Either way, Section benefits more by rewarding success than by discouraging initiative." As Madeline finished her speech, she sat down as if to indicate that the current topic no longer needed to be discussed.

"Nikita's actions still indicate a willingness to ignore Section priorities when the lives of non-combatants are at stake," Operations noted as he reseated himself at his desk.

"True," Madeline noted with a smile that indicated Operations had provided an opening into her next topic. "But, in this case, her actions benefited Section. I also believe we can count on Michael to influence her regarding these decisions in the future." Madeline calmly crossed her legs as she waited for Operation's objections.

"What?" Operations said almost rising to his feet. "You actually want to encourage their relationship?"

"Yes," she replied evenly. "Relationships in Section have proved mutually beneficial in the past," she noted staring intently at Operations. "The sims indicate that as their relationship grows, we can expect Nikita to provide incentives for Michael's organizational skills to improve while Michael provides a focus for Nikita to include Section objectives into her priorities. Of course, to prevent conflicts, we'll have to apply certain restrictions on Nikita's mission profiles. We can't assign her to missions with a probability of survival of less than fifty percent unless we wish to risk Michael as well. We also can't assign her to Valentine missions where the profile demands that she have sexual relations with a target since that could damage the relationship. There are several ways we could manage this and Section could profit from the experience, but it's getting late and I'm hungry." Madeline stood but did not turn to leave. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion over dinner?" she asked with a completely professional tone though her lowered lashes and slightly parted lips suggested something more.

Operations was startled by her suggestion and what it implied. "I'd like that. If you'll let me file this accounting report, I'll be right with you," he said, recovering.

"I'll meet you upstairs," Madeline replied with a simple smile as she turned and left.

***********

Walter looked up from his station as Madeline finally descended the stair from Operation's main office. He almost dropped the sensor he was repairing when she turned in his direction and smiled sweetly before heading back to her office.

He didn't know how she'd done it, but he was certain of two things. First, Nikita was off the hook again. Second, the only thing that scared him more than his deal with the devil, was that smile.

END

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