After watching Imitation of Death, I thought the scene with Birkoff, Operations and the gun needed a follow-up. Spoilers for IOD and possible very minor spoilers for season 3. I hope those who read it enjoy it. Send feedback to EEP@aol.com.

A very special thank you to Cynaera. She beta read and tweaked the story.

As always, the characters and concept of LFN do not belong to me and I am using them in this work of fan fiction without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

It never ceased to amaze him, how loud silence could be. How conversations could hang in the air like mist. He stood at the window of Operations' aerie looking down at Systems and the subject of their discussion. Without turning, he asked, "Does he know?"

"I am not in the habit of clearing my decisions with my subordinates, especially decisions concerning them," Operations replied with the haughtiness of a man used to being obeyed. "You are not to say anything to him either, Michael. At least not until the time is right. Let him sweat."

Michael remained silent. There was nothing that he could say. All in all, perhaps it was for the best.

He turned to leave, his dismissal also silent.

"Michael."

Michael stopped and turned to face the man who held Section in the palm of his hand - the first time he had looked at him since shortly after the conversation had begun.

"He pointed a gun at me. That type of behavior needs to be strongly discouraged. If it hurts, just a little, I won't be upset."

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

Birkoff sat at his station. He was monitoring some routine intel downloads from undercover operatives who were still in the field. A few of his support staff were also on duty. They busied themselves at the various monitors. Birkoff was only giving half of his attention to the incoming information - it was low priority and that was all it really deserved.

Instead he was thinking of what a mess he'd made of his life in the last few months. First he had been denied downtime for six months after an ill-advised attempt to blackmail Operations with a buried file he had found. He still wasn't sure if the whole episode was just another test of his loyalty or if Operations had just out-psyched and out-maneuvered him. The lack of leisure was wearing on him but he still felt that he had gotten off easily, especially considering the alternative.

Then, he had really been an idiot. Feeling intimidated by an abeyance operative who had threatened him, he had borrowed an unregistered gun from Walter. Shortly after that, while deep in the bowels of Section, he had heard footsteps echoing down the hallway behind him. He was sure he was being followed, that he was being stalked. He readied the gun and, jumping out from around a corner, leveled it at....Operations. When he realized at whom he was pointing the gun, his heart almost stopped. That was a few days ago and he wasn't sure his heart rate was back to normal yet.

He was so involved in his own thoughts that at first he didn't register his name being said.

"Birkoff."

Jarred from his reverie, he turned to Michael's voice. He noticed that Section's top op was not alone. "Yeah?"

"Come with me please," Michael said dispassionately.

Birkoff instantly went on the alert. He was used to being summoned but something in Michael's demeanor spooked him. He decided to hedge. "I'm on duty - can't it wait?"

Michael nodded to the man standing to his side. "Simon will be covering your duties until the end of your shift."

Birkoff placed both hands on the top of his console, stared at the monitor and took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this, he really didn't.

"Mr. Birkoff, come with me now, please."

The rest of his staff were beginning to notice that something was going on. One by one they gradually stopped watching the monitors and began watching the interaction between Michael and Birkoff. Michael noticed the attention they were receiving and shifted his gaze from the man in front of him to those watching. In unison they turned away. Living in Section elevated minding one's own business to an art form.

"Now, please."

Birkoff gathered his courage and his dignity. After all, it might not be....what he thought it might be. He stood and moved to the side to let Simon take his seat. He then turned to looked at Michael only to find that the operative was already walking away. Birkoff quickly followed, catching up with Michael at an elevator where he was patiently waiting for the doors to open.

"What's this about, Michael?" he asked in what he hoped was a calm manner. To his disappointment and growing trepidation, Michael glanced at him but didn't answer. The elevator door opened and both men stepped inside. "Where are we going?" Birkoff tried again to get some information from his closed-mouthed colleague. This time he was rewarded with a terse response.

"Down."

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

Madeline waited patiently while Operations finished talking to George via a video link. She had noted that George seemed to be contacting them more frequently since Adrian had mysteriously vanished. Her soft smile never wavered at the thought that even if George remained suspicious, he would never have concrete proof of their complicity in the affair. They had really had no choice. Adrian had been trying to bring Section down. She had been a threat and they had made the threat disappear. Even the meekest creature would fight if its survival was at stake and Section was far from meek.

Finally the link was terminated.

Without preamble, Madeline stated, "I saw that Birkoff was not at his station."

Operations turned his full attention to his second-in-command. It was difficult for him not to be affected by her beauty and the confidence she wore as comfortably as her tailored suit. Still, business was business. "Michael took him."

"I thought you had decided to wait."

Operations came around from behind his desk to stand in front of her. "I decided to expedite the matter. Waiting won't make it any easier. Is there a problem with that?"

Madeline turned from him to walk to the window that over looked the computer bay. "Of course there's no problem. I just need to be kept abreast of any personnel changes." She turned back to him. "Protocol demands that I should have been informed."

Operations walked over to her. He stood close enough to catch scent of her subtle but exotic perfume. He smiled and thought to himself that she had come well armed for a possible confrontation. "I apologize. You should indeed have been informed when I moved up the time table. You're right, as always."

She graced him with a smile. "Of course."

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

Walter looked up from his work station and into Systems. He noticed Michael talking to Birkoff but thought nothing of it. It didn't seem out of the ordinary. He glanced up a few minutes later and noticed that Birkoff had been replaced by Simon. That got his interest. He usually knew whenever anything was going down and he wasn't aware of anything that would require Birkoff's personal attention. Glancing up at Operations' control room to make sure Operations wasn't watching, he decided to satisfy his curiosity.

"Hey Simon."

Simon looked around at the man addressing him and then looked back at his monitor. "Walter."

"Do you know where I can find Birkoff? I've finished updating the weaponry inventory and need to give him the discs."

Simon didn't even bother looking up when he answered. "All I know is that Michael took him somewhere."

"OK. Well, when is he expected back? I was suppose to give him the update today and if someone gets in hot water for it being late, I'd rather it not be me."

Simon finally turned and met Walter's eyes. "All I was told was that I would finish out his shift. That's all I know and that's all I want to know."

Walter was stunned but didn't show it. He gave Simon an easy smile. "Sure, no problem. I'll just wait and give it to him later."

"If there IS a later," Simon mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Walter to hear him.

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

The elevator came to a smooth stop. The doors slid open. Michael proceeded down an empty corridor followed closely by a nervous Birkoff.

"Michael, wait."

Michael continued as if he hadn't heard.

"Michael, wait a minute," Birkoff said again, this time punctuating his request by grabbing Michael's sleeve. That got a response.

Michael stopped quickly and pointedly looked at the hand attempting to restrain him.

Birkoff snatched his hand back as if it had been burned and uttered a quick apology. At least Michael was paying attention to him now. "Look, I just want to know what's going on. That's all I'm asking."

Michael looked Birkoff directly in the eyes. For long seconds he didn't say anything as he shifted through his options. "I'm sorry," he finally said softly and then continued down the hallway leaving Birkoff little choice but to follow.

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

Walter groaned slightly as he straightened. He had spent too long bending over his console while modifying the laser sighting of a rifle. The creaking of his bones reminded him that he wasn't as young as he used to be. He grinned to himself. There might be a few miles on the tires and you might have to turn the key a few times to get the engine to turn over, but he could still take the curves. Experience, it all came down to experience and he figured he had more of that than just about anyone else he could name. Then he looked out on Systems and noted the absence of Birkoff. He shook his head, "Yeah, maybe a little too much experience."

"You talking to yourself now Walter?" Nikita chided as she sauntered up to his station.

"Got to Sugar, no one else understands me." He set the rifle and scope aside and leaned casually on the counter. "What are you doing in this dungeon on your down time? Come by to gander at my weapons array?" he said with attempted levity. He couldn't help looking past Nikita into the computer area. Birkoff wasn't back. Suddenly bantering with his favorite blonde lost a lot of its appeal.

"Oh, Walter," she batted her eyes flirtatiously, "you know how much I would love that but I just don't think my heart could stand the excitement." She noticed his sudden change of mood and abandoned her innocent teasing. "Walter, what is it?" she asked in quiet concern.

"Nothing, Sugar, at least nothing that you can do anything about." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Birkoff's gone."

Nikita looked over her shoulder at Simon. "What do you mean by GONE?"

"Gone as in he screwed up royally a few days ago and I'm not sure what's happening. Gone as in I don't know if he's coming back, gone," he said tightly. "Gone as in I don't know if I'm next."

Nikita grabbed his hand and whispered urgently, "Walter, are you saying that Birkoff's been canceled?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying he's gone and if they come for me, I'm gonna be ready."

"If you're not sure what's happening, maybe you're getting worked up over nothing. I'll go find Michael. He'll either know or can find out." Nikita tried to stay calm and rational. Tried to look like she was anyway, even if that wasn't the way she was feeling.

Walter shook his head. "Michael's the one who took him."

Nikita's eyes widened in astonishment and horror. "Michael wouldn't hurt Birkoff," she said with more confidence than she felt.

"When are you going to wise up! Michael does what Michael's told," Walter retorted harshly. Before Nikita could respond, they were interrupted by Simon's appearance.

"Walter, Operations wants to see you." Simon delivered his message and hurried back to Systems. There was a cold churning in his gut. He didn't know what was going on but he knew he didn't want to have anything to do with it.

Walter's frown tightened and he ran a hand down his chin. Was it his turn or as was he making something out of nothing? Prepared - better to be prepared. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small .22 caliber pistol.

Nikita saw what he had and snatched it from his hand, her expression intense and her eyes riveted on his. She pleaded with him, "Listen Walter. I don't know what Birkoff did or you did or what Operations thinks you did but I do know this - if you take this gun with you, you won't be coming back. Please, if you made a mistake make it right - just don't make a bigger one."

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

Birkoff's heart was beating so fast and loudly that he wondered if Michael could hear it. His anxiety was growing and he knew if he didn't do something soon it would bloom into panic. He sped up his pace until he was in front of the reserved level five operative. Once there he stopped, leaving Michael the choice of either walking over him or arresting his forward pace. Michael stopped.

"Listen Michael, just listen. I've helped you in the past. I didn't betray you when you had me find Lisa Fanning, I never let on to Operations what you were doing. I set up the false files to incriminate Ferrera so he would help you keep Nikita alive when Operations was trying to wipe out everyone who had witnessed the Adrian incident. I'm not saying that you owe me anything, just that I've helped you in the past. Just help me now, OK. Just talk to Operations for me," Birkoff said in a rush.

Michael regarded Birkoff solemnly. He could see the telltale signs of growing desperation. He had been ordered not to offer comfort; ordered to let Birkoff's imagination offer frightening end game scenarios. In short, he had been ordered to let him sweat. "I already have." He then stepped around Birkoff and continued to their destination.

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

Walter wiped his hands on the sides of his old denim jeans again but couldn't seem to get them dry. Giving up, he took a deep breath to calm himself and entered the lion's den. "You wanted to see me."

Operations, seated at his desk, looked up from the report he was reading and nodded in the general direction of a chair. "Sit down. I'll be a minute."

Walter sat. He figured he was being made to wait to increase his anxiety, an old interrogation ploy. Unfortunately, even knowing it for a ploy didn't make the tactic less effective.

Finally Operations put the report down and placed something on top of it. He then moved around his desk and stood in front of Walter. Another ploy, the difference in physical height equaling psychological dominance. Oh, Walter knew all the little strategies used to intimidate others. Damn, he wished his hands would quit sweating.

Operations picked up the metallic gray object on his desk and pointed it at Walter. "Do you know what this is?"

Walter looked at the object and then back up at Operations. "A gun."

"Very good," Operations said with an accompanying smirk. "But not just any gun, this one isn't listed in inventory. Probably one that some operative stashed away in case of...emergencies, in violation of the rules. You've been here a long time, Walter, you know the rules." Operations pointed the gun at Walter's head and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Walter forced himself to take another breath, certain it would be his last.

The clip was ejected from the automatic and was deftly caught in Operations' hand. "See that they're followed from now on." He threw the gun and clip into Walter's lap. "Dismissed."

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

Michael finally stopped at a door, no different from the dozens of other featureless doors they had passed. He deftly pressed a series of numbers on the key pad beside it causing the door to quietly swish open. He stood aside and motioned for Birkoff to enter.

Almost breathless by the fear that was constricting his chest, Birkoff had to force himself to enter the room. It looked like every other white room he had ever seen. He wondered if he would die here. He believed he would die here. He looked back at where Michael was standing just inside the still opened door. Michael's lack of expression only added fuel to the growing fire of his desperation. "WHAT was I supposed to do? You weren't going to help me! I got the gun to protect myself from Felix. He was going to kill me!"

"Felix was in abeyance. He was killed on the mission." Michael's voice had no inflection as he stated the cold fact.

"No, no," Birkoff continued, the beginnings of hysteria coloring his voice. "The tapes were damaged. It couldn't be confirmed. I thought he was still a threat, still waiting for me. I had to get the gun. I didn't mean to point it at Operations! I KNOW I screwed up." Birkoff took a step toward Michael, his hands at his sides and open as if in supplication. "Michael, I don't want to die," he pleaded. "Please, I'll never make a mistake like this again."

"I know." If Birkoff's pleas moved him, Michael didn't show it. Michael slowly turned his back to Birkoff as he reached for the mechanism to close the door.

Birkoff was overcome by panic. He was beyond rational thought, unable to think or plan. He just had an overwhelming need to escape, to get out of the room. He blindly ran at Michael. What happened next occurred so quickly he wasn't even conscious of it. Suddenly he was on his back with Michael leaning over him.

"When you attack someone from behind, go for the kidneys. It disables them and they can't fight back."

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

It was late. Everyone else was gone and even the night crew was somewhere else. Walter stayed at his station staring out at Birkoff's empty chair in the vacant Systems long after his shift was over. He was wallowing in his guilt - guilt that he was still alive, that he was the one to give Birkoff the gun. He was so preoccupied with his own misery that at first he didn't register the lone figure that limped slowly into view. Then he did a double-take.

"Birkoff?" he said aloud. In a flash, he was out from behind his counter and beside the young man. Birkoff was alive! He looked like hell, but he was alive. "Birkoff, you're alive!" A second later, he added, "Birkoff, don't take this the wrong way - but you're alive?"

Birkoff grinned but then quickly stopped and brought his hand up to massage his jaw. Even grinning hurt. "Yeah, I'm kind of surprised about that myself."

"What happened to you? When you left with Michael, I was sure...."

"So was I. He took me to some sub-level where I'd never been--"

"--And beat the crap out of you," Walter finished for him, resentful at the treatment Birkoff had apparently received and the hell that he himself had been going through because he had thought the younger man dead.

"Yes. No - he's teaching me hand to hand combat. Said it would give me more confidence in my ability to protect myself." He grimaced in pain. "Walter, if you don't mind, I just need to check the log and then I'm going to medlab for some aspirin and straight to bed."

"Yeah, sure kid. I'll see you tomorrow." Before Birkoff could limp away, Walter added, "I'm glad you're back."

Birkoff nodded, "Me too."

Walter stayed where he was for several minutes after Birkoff had left for medlab. He looked up at the darkened window of Operations' loft, shook his head and then left as well.

Operations had been sitting in his darkened room watching the floor below him for some time. He saw Birkoff limp across the floor and Walter greet him. Finally they both left and the bay was clear. Operations allowed himself a satisfied smile. He was sure they had learned their lessons and hoped it would discourage any further difficulties, for a while at least. Birkoff and Walter were the best at their crafts that the Sections had to offer. He hadn't been able to find personnel who had the same degree of proficiency - yet. He hooked his jacket with his finger and left his silent office, making a mental note to himself to talk to Section Eight about stepping up recruitment efforts.

END

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