When Nikita entered Madeline's office she found the Executive Strategist sitting at her desk, with Operations standing beside it. Nodding to both of them, and keeping her expression blank, she waited to hear why she had been summoned.

"This is the leader of Legion, Heinrich," Operations started, as Madeline swivelled her display so Nikita could see it.

"As you know, his organisation is small but full of committed, intelligent people. He's tightly insulated and his people's loyalty is such that we have had no way to infiltrate. In response to some intel on their intentions, however, we are raising the priority on Legion. We think we have a way in, but it will take time."

Madeline took over the briefing. "You're to establish a covert contact with a Legion operative, Josef. You will indicate your dissatisfaction with Section, and that you have uncovered information in our databases that indicates you are Heinrich's daughter, which is why you were recruited. You want to find out the truth."

"They won't buy it. Not without proof." He would be crazy to, Nikita thought, despite the physical resemblances she could see in the picture. Truth? she thought cynically. Whose `truth' are we talking about today?

"That will be taken care of," Madeline assured her serenely, her gaze as direct and unreadable as ever. Nikita eyed her without comment, not wanting to know what that ambiguous statement meant.

As Operations resumed Nikita pulled her focus back onto his words. "This has highest priority and for security reasons no-one, including Michael, is to know about this mission." His gaze was intense and Nikita met it stolidly, holding her anger at the man very firmly in check. This wasn't the time.

"Understood," was her terse reply. Not really she thought. Will I ever?

**

Once Nikita had reviewed the profile on her PDA and left, Madeline turned to Operations.

"She's doing well," she commented.

"Better than I expected," Operations admitted.

The entire Gelman scenario had been unfortunate but necessary, on a number of levels. They had not made Michael's recovery of Nikita easy, but also not so hard that he could not achieve it. The result of that and subsequent manipulations had been everything that Section's leaders had hoped: over the months Nikita had proven herself an excellent operative, strong and detached but retaining her innovative flair.

"She thinks we're setting Heinrich up. I'm concerned about her reaction when she realises he is her father," he continued. They had been waiting for Nikita to evolve to the point where she could close this mission with a reasonable POS. In Operations' opinion they had had to wait far too long. Legion was extremely dangerous.

"The side profile should take care of that," Madeline said. Nikita was not aware of it, and it should prove an interesting test of her abilities.

"We've severed the bond between them Madeline. That was one of the points of all this." Operations sounded testy.

"Michael remains committed to Nikita. He also remains committed to Section's goals, if not to us personally," she pointed out.

That was a matter for regret, but it was the inevitable fallout from earlier events. Michael's open rebellion against Section was also a rare opportunity to establish his disaffection publicly. Despite the Philo mission, it should draw enemies, both terrorist and supposed allies alike, looking for a target within Section to subvert. They had kept the pressure up, reinforcing the rift.

That the game they played with Michael was an extremely dangerous one was a fact she was well aware of, but Madeline was working toward securing Section's future. Her personal preferences were of no account. A tightening of Operations' mouth at her unpalatable words showed he was not pleased either.

"He'll do what needs to be done," she stated confidently. "But I don't think it will come to that."

"It's a risk," Operations pointed out. On several levels he thought. The reminder was unnecessary.

"We're all expendable," came the response he knew so well.

*** End part one

The mission was proceeding slowly, but according to profile. Josef had been leery of her, but she had been persistent. When Josef finally set a meeting Nikita was torn between satisfaction that the mission was moving forward and unease as to what the next phase would bring. She had been doing her own digging on Heinrich and she was disturbed by what she was finding.

"I suppose you want to meet him?" sneered the Legion operative.

"No. If he is my father I'd probably just shoot him on sight." Her cold intensity appeared to intrigue him, to her disgust. She leaned toward him.

"I just want to know if he really is my father. And if so, why the hell he deserted me and my mother." Nikita's anger was not feigned.

Josef regarded her dispassionately. Suddenly he leaned forward and pulled a hair from her head. At Nikita's glare as she jerked back he said, "I'll contact you," then he left.

Nikita slumped in her seat and let the anger drain away. The dregs that it left coalesced into a corrosive bleakness.

Is this who I truly am? she wondered as she closed her eyes against sudden tears. God I hope not.

**

Legion was shadowing her. It was nothing she could point to, but her instincts told her she was being watched. Hunted. Whether that was a positive or a negative was unclear. Nikita let her awareness of the danger show but it did not seem to hurry those who watched from the shadows. She had to wait it out, and patience had never been her particular virtue.

When they finally moved on her, Nikita felt relief. Madeline's insinuations aside, there was a high probability that she had passed the DNA test because she really was this man's daughter. The implications were staggering but she tried not to dwell on them. What she wanted were answers. That she would get more than she wanted was possible, but she had to know. She refused to believe that ignorance was any type of bliss.

As the blindfold was removed she swung her head back defiantly, glaring around the room. After a deliberately insolent perusal of her surroundings she addressed the tall blonde man who leaned casually against a desk while regarding her with a far from casual interest. "What do you want?"

"To meet you." In person the physical resemblance was more pronounced. They shared a rangy frame, strong facial features and their colouring.

"Why? You didn't want to meet me when I was born," she spat bitterly.

"I didn't know." He met her look of contempt calmly. "Even if I had I don't think it would have changed anything. Look around you. Is this a life for a child?"

"No," she reluctantly agreed. "But you have a choice about being here. You choose to be here." She was not interested in forgiving him, and he accepted that.

Heinrich sighed. "I can't explain it, but I have no choice. This is what I am. I can be no different." He suddenly, painfully, reminded her of Michael. She thrust the thought away. The two men were nothing alike.

"You can choose to be different. What we are is what we choose." She had once believed that. Did she still? Don't go there she warned herself.

"As you have chosen?" How much did he know about her? Nikita's jaw clenched and she did not answer. She had long ago lost the moral high ground. This was not an argument she could win.

Heinrich liked her anger, the spark of passion that flared beneath the icy exterior. Section had not managed to break her, but that did not mean it would be easy to seduce her away from them. Section was renown for its ability to condition its operatives, making them willing to die for its cause. Heinrich decided he was willing to try. Besides, he was still wary. Section's response to this development would help him decide if this was a trap. For the moment she would be treated as a buffered hostile. He would not admit to the hope that they might find common ground. She was his daughter...

Nikita glanced around once more. "So where's the shower?" At Heinrich's puzzled tilt of the head she elaborated. "The last time Legion had me they chained me to a shower and electrocuted me." Her expression was a mixture of lazy defiance and raw challenge.

His lips pursed. This could take time.

**

Michael entered Operations' office silently and looked out at Comm. while waiting for the older man to finish reading his PDA.

"Legion has Nikita," Operations stated without preamble. He did not expect Michael to react and he was not disappointed. "She was recently briefed on the Belfast mission. If it's a coincidence it's a large one. We need to retrieve her and find out what they know."

"Retrieve?" Michael queried, immediately wary. Cancellation was more usual. While Operations was well aware of the line Michael had drawn in the sand between them, the thought of Operations making a concession on this was improbable enough to make Michael deeply uneasy.

"In this case yes. Along with all hard data you can find." His voice was hard, his glare uncompromising, an unspoken indication of the priority of the mission, and his displeasure at the situation in general. "Eliminate only if you can't retrieve." As if that's likely he thought sourly.

"Resources?" Operations studied Michael as he answered, knowing the field operative would not like the answer. With Nikita involved, however, he would be compelled to act irregardless. This was one occasion when the operative's obsession would work in Section's favour.

"As three Priority 8's are due out in the next 24 hours a backup team drawn from Abeyance is all that can be spared. You'll have to run primary alone." It wasn't unheard of. Heavily fortified compounds were sometimes more easily breached by a lone operative. "You have three days."

Michael stared at Operations for a long moment before nodding, then he turned and left without another word. Operations opened his link to Madeline, who had been viewing the briefing from her office.

"The parameters are too unusual for him to believe this is what it seems."

"He's suspicious," Madeline granted, "But unless Legion is far less competant than they've been to date, it will make no difference."

*** End part two

"We have an uninvited guest. Who is it?" Heinrich's anger was clear from the cold flatness of his voice. The unknown operative had gotten far too far into the complex before detection.

Nikita was staring at the monitor, struggling to hide her dismay. Heinrich's impatient "Well?" brought her attention back to him.

"His name is Michael. He's a level five field op." What the hell am I supposed to tell them? This isn't in the profile! This was far too delicate a situation for improvisation, but Nikita knew she had no other option. What's going on? she fretted.

Heinrich turned to one of his lieutenants. "Kill him," came the expected, but unwelcome, command.

Nikita bit back the urge to scream "No!" and fought for a level voice. "Isn't that being hasty? You don't know why he's here. What he's after."

Heinrich shot her an irritated glance. "Probably to kill you. Your people must know you are here by now." Section never tried to rescue their operatives. Killing them to minimise damage was more their style. Could he use that against Nikita's conditioning? He was rapidly sorting through the implications.

Nikita's chin lifted. "Maybe. Maybe not. I want to know why he's here," she stated stubbornly.

"He won't be easy to capture," Heinrich's suspicions were fully aroused.

"He's alone," she pointed out. Why is he alone? What is he doing here?

"A level five operative will not just give himself up," Heinrich pointed out waspishly. "And he's capable of doing significant damage before he goes down."

Nikita was thinking furiously. "Give me a gun with tranqs. I need a team. And an intercept path." she demanded. When Heinrich made no move she glared at him. "I can bring him in," she ground out.

Heinrich was interested in her reaction - and her motivation. He decided to play the situation out. He signalled to four operatives to come over. She turned to them immediately, snapping "You'll follow me, about 10 metres back. Shoot at me but make it look like you're trying to bring me down, not kill me." A guide came over with Nikita's gun, but held onto it. She ignored the assertion of distrust and gestured to her guide to lead them out.

Once the group was out of sight Heinrich turned to his guard. "Make sure the perimeter is closed. I don't want them getting out."

**

Nikita ran up the corridor, reflexively hunching against the ping of bullets around her. She ought to be close to Michael's position by now, and the sound of gunfire would draw him to her.

Her head snapped to the side as return fire took out two of the group following her. The rest fell back immediately. Michael stood in the shadows, scanning their surroundings, scanning her for injuries.

"Michael! What are you doing here?" She kept her voice down although she knew the surveillance equipment would pick it up. Nikita moved to stand close to him.

"Retrieval," was his simple, and helpfully ambiguous, explanation. Retrieval? Now? Why? Nikita was confused. She abruptly shook her head. It couldn't be. They couldn't get out, not this way. She had to go with her mission directive or they had no hope of surviving. He must know that. This must be part of some plan. Without allowing herself to think further she pumped two tranqs into Michael's exposed neck.

As he fell he managed to twist toward her, his eyes wide with disbelief at her treachery. Her breath snagged as her guts clenched in response to his pain at her betrayal. What else could I do, Michael? We would not have made it out alive. And what about my mission? You never said it was aborted. What's going on? The last was close to a mental scream. She slumped against the wall as the Legion operatives approached cautiously.

She fought back the fury she felt, both at Michael and at Section. Why do you let them do this to you Michael? Why? Her anger drained away leaving her feeling wrung out, and unprepared for what she knew was coming.

What remained of the team that had been `pursuing' her efficiently stripped Michael of weapons then picked him up and started back toward the command cell. Nikita trailed behind them, once again weaponless. She was suddenly uncertain. Please, please let this have been the right thing to do. Please.

**

Nikita found Heinrich standing outside an interrogation cell, watching proceedings through a glass panel. Her breath caught as she saw Michael strapped to the chair, her eyes automatically assessing what injuries she could see. In a reflex developed over the past brutalizing year, she shut down the emotions that surged through her at the sight.

"This is unnecessary." The thread of cool disgust in her voice could be interpreted in many ways. Michael's head was bowed and she guessed he was on the edge of consciousness, but she was sure that he was aware of her presence. She wished he wasn't. Knowing her options were limited, Nikita concentrated on what she had to do.

"Why should we spare him?" Heinrich was watching the torture clinically. This operative was good. Their techniques were having no effect. He turned to her. "We have even less reason to trust him than we have you." The smile was small and cynical, but he indicated the torture was to be suspended.

Careful to keep her expression cool and her tone level she answered, "It's no secret Operations wants him dead. He's tried often enough in the last year. Michael's very good at what he does, but he knows if he stays his time is limited. It's also no secret he's in love with me. Where I go he'll be inclined to follow." Her implication was clear. Am I rushing this? she wondered.

Although Tier Two, Michael would be a prize, albeit an untrusted one. He had been placed in charge of Section One and thus had access to information at a higher level than was usual for an accessible field operative. Of course that accessibility was offset by his ability to defend himself. She met, and held, Heinrich's probing eyes, allowing some defiance to be seen in her own. I'm here on my terms her eyes told him. It pleased him. She had strength. And perhaps, just perhaps, his daughter still retained some compassion.

"And you?" Her very intervention betrayed interest. To keep Michael alive she had to lead them to believe that she cared enough that they could hold him as hostage for her good behaviour, but not so much that his mistreatment could be used to control her.

"I was in love with him," Nikita admitted softly. She let the bleakness she felt show. "But love has no place in Section." She did not want his pity, and was unsettled by its brief appearance in his eyes.

"But he believes you still care?" the question came softly in return. Nikita turned to study Michael through the glass, her jaw clenching visibly before she answered.

"Yes. I had to. He protected me. Without that I'd be dead. And I have no wish to die." Self-interest was always a believable motive.

Heinrich signalled the guards in the chamber and they started to extract Michael from the equipment. Nikita, watching as they raised him to his feet, was suddenly pinned by Michael's half-lidded, pain-filled gaze. His eyes flicked to the man she was standing, unrestrained and apparently comfortable, with then returned to hers, this time searing her with their contempt before he lost his fight with consciousness and slumped in his captor's hold. Realisation momentarily stopped her breath.

He doesn't know. The thought reverberated through her mind. What did they tell him? He doesn't know my mission. Nikita clamped down on a spurt of panic. She had to continue the profile, despite the dangerous variable that had now been introduced. He doesn't know. And I can't tell him.

** End part three

Nikita looked over Michael's body critically. She had followed the guards to a holding cell and Heinrich had not stopped her. Go ahead and watch. We're used to it she thought savagely.

She had to admit Heinrich's people knew their job. While the damage looked bad, none of it was permanent. She had to get him to hold on. To not let them kill him. She knew that their torture could not break him - but her perceived betrayal could. She had to prevent that. Somehow.

With some surprise Nikita realised Michael had become vital to her in a way he had never been before, her touchstone of sanity and purpose in the chaos her life, her emotions, had become in the past year. A beacon in the darkness that engulfed her. She needed him not only alive, but whole.

Gently she touched his cheek with her fingertip, regret flooding her. Regret for her behaviour, which had withered the relationship she and Michael had suffered so much for. Regret for their current position. Just... regret.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. The words were so damnably familiar, but their roles were unsettlingly reversed. Nikita left, fighting a surge of despair, her mind in turmoil.

**

Michael dreamed. The effect of the drug in his system was fading, but it was not yet gone.

"I'm sorry." Had he heard Nikita say that? No, that was his line. His lament. His seemingly inescapable regret.

She looks so much like him.
She wasn't restrained.

Is it a mission? She could pass as his daughter - but they'd test. She'd have to BE his daughter.

What if she is?
She hated her father. But she hated her mother and still forgave her...
Could she forgive him?

Could she... TURN to him?

She's been so distant lately. So cold. So... detached.
She does the job but she doesn't look past it.
Doesn't look at me.

She doesn't believe anymore.

Not in the job.

Not in me.

Will she believe in him?

The question faded. Lost. The thought drifted. Everyone lost. The sadness was strangely distant, more an ache than a sharpness.

With memories of Nikita's rejection, and now her betrayal, replaying themselves Michael chose to let himself drift, also lost, into the darkness.

**

"What do you believe in Nikita?" Heinrich was sitting, apparently relaxed, in a comfortable chair opposite her.

"What do you mean?" was her distrustful reply. This comfortable office was a far cry from an interrogation room, but that did not mean the goal was different.

Heinrich tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "A simple enough question surely? You fight for Section - to the death if necessary. What exactly is it that you are willing to die for?"

"I fight to protect innocents," Nikita answered readily, trying not to remember how often she'd been forced to act against those beliefs, hoping Heirich would let it go. He did not.

"As I do," he asserted. Nikita gave a disbelieving snort.

"You said you'd encountered my people before. Think what their goal was. Who. Was that person an innocent?" Heinrich leaned toward her as he spoke, trying to make his point.

Nikita remembered Milovich all too clearly. He was definitely not an innocent. For what he had done to Maria alone she felt he deserved death. She did not answer, which was all the answer Heinrich needed.

"We don't target the innocent. Yes they are sometimes hurt because of us, but we do all we can to avoid that. Can Section say the same?"

Nikita's eyes closed briefly. How does he know so much about me? Know which buttons to press? Or is he pressing those he knows affect him in the hope they affect me too? She opened her eyes again facing the unpleasant knowledge she had been trying very hard to avoid. He's my father. If it had not been so painful she would have laughed. For once they told me the whole truth.

** end part four

Heinrich escorted her from his office. As they walked through the command centre Nikita looked around the room, seeing no signs of preparations to depart.

"Section knows where you are," she pointed out reluctantly.

"Yes." Heinrich did not appear worried. He turned to her, smiling. "This place is highly defensible Nikita. We can destroy it totally if we have to. If we moved, however, we would be very vulnerable in transit."

She nodded her agreement, assessing the level of activity. "But you're still going ahead with missions?"

Heinrich was assessing her in turn, his reply slow in coming. "There's a man named Berovshny, operating out of Tashkent. He sells people into the Asian slave trade via an office in Bangkok. Young boys for paedophiles is his specialty, but he's not very discriminating." Heinrich's disgust was clear. "He has assembled a `shipment' for delivery Wednesday. We intend to stop the shipment - and him." His expression challenged her to argue about the issue.

Nikita swallowed hard, declining the silent challenge. She had seen the upcoming mission roster. Section would try to stop Legion. Would probably succeed in stopping Legion. Berovshny was a middleman and Section was prepared to let the deal go through in order to follow the money trail back to his boss, a man believed to also be extensively involved in the people smuggling trades out of Afghanistan, China and Iran.

Two years ago she would have passionately believed Legion was doing the right thing. Who had the right to weigh one life against another? Then came a time she felt too beaten to do more than follow orders, regurgitating the rationalisations that she herself was fed. Now she was simply, but completely, torn.

Nikita could not entirely hide the tension that rippled through her. Heinrich found her reaction interesting. Dare he feel... hope?

"We work together here. Our lives, and deaths, are intertwined. I know it's not something you'd fully understand."

"Why not?" His assumption angered her.

He shrugged. "You're self-centred. That's not an accusation," he hastened to assure her. "It's a natural response to the way you've lived - still live in fact. A wise response in some ways as it gives you protection." He leaned forward, his expression suddenly fierce. "But it means you've never known the joy of belonging to something entirely greater than yourself. That requires a sacrifice of self that is repaid many times over with a wholeness you cannot imagine." His eyes held a near-fanatical light.

Nikita was shocked into stillness. There was an unwelcome core of truth in his words. While she had found moments of wholeness with Michael, fear had led her to turn away from him. While she had felt moments of belonging within Section, distrust had made her withdraw into herself and away from those she thought of as friends. She closed her eyes against the tears that welled up, unwanted.

Heinrich saw her distress. "I'm so sorry," he said in a suddenly gentle voice. "If only I had found you sooner..." his voice trailed away, tinged with a longing for what might have been.

**

Nikita's eyes ran over Michael critically. She had been permitted to visit him, though she didn't know why and didn't want to guess. He looked better. His eyes were clear but shrouded in that impenetrable calm he was capable of. That calm had always confused her, she who would fight to the last breath. She knew he did not fear death, so she had wondered if he simply didn't care. Nikita now knew he did. Rene was wrong all those years ago, she thought. He's willing to die for what he believes in. The thought brought back Heinrich's words about belonging and left her feeling unsettled again.

At a loss as to what to say, she leaned against the wall opposite Michael. "They're going after Berovshny," she finally offered. Michael's lack of response did not surprise her. She shifted her weight, unsure of what to do.

"Why do you think they want him dead?" She was curious to hear Section's view on Legion's actions, although she doubted Michael would answer. He was a prisoner after all.

Michael stared at her for several moments, before his eyes flicked to the room's camera and back again. "Berovshny is close to making a deal with a Taleban representative to supply a route into Russia for their opium." The fact that he had answered surprised her for a moment. He wants them to know that Section knows about their drug dealing. Do they actually smuggle drugs? Or does Section want them to think Section thinks... Of course, he could just be trying to influence her, and not Legion. It was all too convoluted.

Putting aside both the implication of, and motivation for, his answer, Nikita approached Michael, who was sitting on the bunk. Biting back a surge of hurt, she stopped when she saw him subtly brace himself. Suddenly she changed her mind, and let him see her pain at his reaction.

"When did I become the enemy Michael?" she demanded, chin tilted up.

His answer was cool. "When you gave me to Legion." It was hard to argue with that.

Her jaw muscles clenched. "You wouldn't have made it out alive." Michael noted the pronoun.

He simply blinked, a faint challenge in his eyes. Don't be so sure of that.

Nikita found his supreme confidence in his abilities as an operative suddenly exasperating. Not for the first time. "I don't suppose you thought about how I'd feel if you died." His answer was a subtle scepticism. He could she what she was implying.

"I care about you, Michael!" Now she was angry.

"Do you?" The question hurt. It was a measure of how things had degenerated between them. Michael's tone had not been snide, or bitter, but sorrowful. She could see the memories of her many rejections in his eyes before they turned opaque again.

Looking away, Nikita drew a deep breath, before meeting his eyes again. She struggled to find words. "I didn't stop caring about you, Michael. But I was afraid. Afraid of what they'd do to us next." To me. Heinrich's words echoed in her mind. You're self-centred... She felt a strangely diffuse shame wash through her. This isn't the time or the place to fix things. But she had to try.

"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve what I did. You've done so much for me." She wasn't sure what she was trying to say.

"Nothing that I ever did was enough for you." Accusation or anger she could have fought. Would have fought. The sad acceptance in his voice, though, smothered her, caused her to ache. God, Michael. What have I done to you? How can I make this right?

This isn't the time or the place. "If you truly belive that then there's nothing I can say to change your mind." Lost in her guilt and pain, Nikita did not realise her tone had gone remote and her expression distant. She waited to see if he had anything more to say, and reluctantly left when the silence stretched too long.

Michael's face settled back into unreadability. So many things were unclear to him, but he was acting on the presumption that this was a mission. He acknowledged to himself that he was unwilling to believe otherwise, to believe Nikita had willingly gone to Legion. The goal of her performance just now was obscure, but he had followed her cues as best he could. Hopefully he had taken the line she wanted him to take. Now it was back to waiting and, unfortunately, thinking.

** end of part five

Heinrich sat staring at his monitor. He had watched Nikita's encounter with Michael and was surprised to find himself somewhat ... intrigued by the younger man. He had expected a dour soldier, but his instincts were telling him that Michael was far more complex than that. It was hard to reconcile the passion of an idealist committed to his beliefs with the unemotional exterior Michael presented, but Heinrich was coming to suspect that it was there. Hidden from view, but guiding every action. How it had survived Section was a mystery. Heinrich found the insight unsettling - he understood such men as he was one himself. Nikita, on the other hand...

She commits herself to people, a person, not to a concept, a truth. How do I show her she is wrong?

He settled back into his chair, frustrated.
There must be something she wants that I can use.

**

Nikita was sitting on the bunk, legs apart, elbows on knees, head hanging when Heinrich entered her room. He stayed by the door, leaning against the wall, unconciously mirroring her position when visiting Michael.

"I can arrange for you to disappear." She raised her head and stared at him. "You could be free."

"Free?" Nikita was astonished and didn't bother hiding it.

"New identity. Passage to wherever you want."

She was having trouble assimilating the offer, he noted. "Are you so conditioned to slavery that freedom is unthinkable?"

She flushed. "No, of course not. Why would you do this?"

He shrugged. "You're my daughter." Her expression turned cynical. "I have the chance to help you. You can't stay here after all." He looked away, then decided on brutally spelling things out. "You won't help us, and I don't expect you to. The alternative is death. I'd rather you be alive - and free."

"What about Michael?"

"He'd prefer death."

"That's not true!" Her answer was quick and indignant. It was good to see her passion. Helpful.

"He's committed to the fight Nikita. I don't agree with the side he's chosen, but I respect the fact that he's willing to die for his beliefs." It gave Heinrich no particular pleasure to force Nikita into this choice, into exposing herself, but he believed it to be necessary.

"In Section, yes." The admission was reluctant. "But if you let us go, he'll come with me. He won't go back to them." She had to believe that - or else she'd have to believe that she'd never be free of the life she hated. That would be unendurable.

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself." Nikita looked away, unsure of her ground. She had accused Michael of needing Section. He had denied it. Now Nikita wondered if he'd meant that it was Section's purpose he needed. Could she give him a purpose? One that did not involve killing and deceiving? She gritted her teeth. Yes! He hates the life we have to lead. I'm sure of it!

Heinrich waited a few moments, but Nikita didn't answer. "You said you weren't in love with him anymore. Why would you want him to go with you?" Nikita felt a frisson of fear. It helped focus her thoughts.

"Section made it clear we weren't allowed to have a relationship. I'd like the chance to see if what was between us was because of our circumstances, or if it was real." Her voice was soft, sadness underlain with bitterness.

Heinrich nodded. "And you think he'll be willing to give up everything he is to find out?"

Nikita's eyes flashed anger. "He won't be `giving up what he is'. He's far more than what Section made him." Yes, she had committed herself to this man. It was he that held her to Section, not a belief in its goals. Heinrich found himself saddened by that thought. Unaccountably he found himself wanting to play the role of Devil's advocate.

"And what they made you?"

Tears blurred her vision and she looked down. "I know I've changed. I can't change back. Regain what I've lost. But I can continue to change, become someone new." Someone who can face herself in the mirror and not feel horror, or pain, or anger.

He tilted his head while considering her words. She had courage, he'd grant her that. "And Section?" Nikita looked up, clearly confused. "What of it? What of what it does?" Her lack of understanding disgusted and angered him, but he clamped down on the mixed emotion. It wasn't her fault, he told himself.

She was waiting for him to explain, but he decided to leave it. If he'd read Michael correctly, the younger man would explain it to her. "It doesn't matter. So you're interested in my offer?"

"Can I speak to Michael about this?"

Heinrich nodded. It should be a very enlightening conversation.

** end part six

Nikita was surprised to see Michael laying down when she entered. He turned his head to watch her but made no attempt to sit up. Approaching warily, Nikita looked over his body to try to find the problem. A small bandage inside his elbow made her stomach clench. Drugs.

"What have they done?" Cold chills crawled over her.

"Tranquillisers I think." Apart from his voice sounding huskier than usual, his speech was clear, unslurred.

Nikita was not reassured. "Why?" What had he done to be treated this way?

"I'm a captive here," he reminded her. Nikita frowned. "It makes a change from the chains," he shrugged, referring to the clear ligature marks on his wrists. Nikita could only stare. The comment was so far out of character for Michael that she immediately doubted that sedatives were all he was being fed.

Michael was surprised himself when he heard his own comment. He'd retained a dark sense of humour over the years, but kept it tightly covered. The drugs must be having more of an effect than I thought. Immediately he started tightening his control.

This clearly wasn't the best time for conversation, but Nikita knew time, in the form of Heinrich's patience, was finite. She sat on the edge of the bunk, drawing a deep breath and looking away as she started to speak.

"Heinrich's made an offer. Freedom." She couldn't look at him. Her hope hurt. She looked down at her fidgeting hands.

"To leave here?" Michael tried to concentrate.

"From Section," she clarified. Michael's sense of danger abruptly kicked in. The adrenaline surge made it easier for him to focus.

"Working for him." His tone had flattened. Nikita turned to him, her eyes showing a tumultuous mix of eagerness and dread.

"No. No strings. Straight disappearance. He'll provide papers, money, whatever's needed."

"Why?" He didn't bother to conceal his suspicion.

Nikita looked down at her hands again, then blindly across the room. "I'm his daughter Michael. Section knew that. It's why they recruited me." She looked at him again, but his eyes had unfocussed. She recognised that middle distance stare - he was putting pieces together. She nodded slightly.

"You weren't told, were you?"

"No." Nikita was prepared to believe him. While there had been a time Nikita had, with Michael's connivance, equated him with Section, she knew now that they kept secrets from him too. Manipulated him too. The knowledge had only deepened a bitterness she had yet to fully acknowledge.

"He doesn't want to kill me. He doesn't want me going back to Section either." She paused, then gave a slight, bitter laugh. "Called it slavery. He doesn't know the half of it."

Michael was watching her intently. "What will you do?"

Nikita stared at the floor for a long time. "I want to be free Michael," she admitted softly. "*Really* free..." Her voice trailed into silence. Her wish was not unexpected at all, but the ache it caused him was.

"They'll hunt you." His voice was soft and certain. Nikita shut her eyes for a moment as she realised he hadn't understood her. Or was it that he didn't want to understand her?

"Maybe not. If Section thinks we're dead we'd be in the clear."

"We?" She recognised this mode of behaviour. Michael was probing for information while giving nothing away himself. Does he even realise he's doing it? It was an idle speculation. Stop procrastinating she chided herself.

"He's prepared to let you go with me."

Michael side-stepped. "Section won't buy it. Neither would others, if they found out."

"We'd have to stay low for a while. Maybe a year," she conceded. "After that any information we'd have would be too out-of-date to be of use."

She wasn't that naive. Was she that desperate? The feeling of unease gripping Michael was only getting stronger. "Some would settle for revenge."

"That's just Section paranoia speaking." Nikita's anger spiked.

Michael studied Nikita. It was certainly possible she was setting up their exit strategy, but Michael could see the strong emotions gripping Nikita in the set of her body, hear it in the undertones of her voice. Whatever the events that had brought her here, mission or no mission, this offer had really been made. Worse, Nikita wanted to take it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" Nikita wasn't sure what he was asking.

"Why not just go yourself?"

Nikita's entire body clenched with pain. His question was an unwelcome reminder of the strain between them. His earlier words Nothing that I ever did was enough for you scalded her again.

Looking him directly in the eyes she willed him to listen - to *hear*. "It wouldn't be freedom without you."

--

Heinrich noted Michael's sudden deeper stillness with confusion. Some shared memory perhaps? He was suddenly less certain of what was happening. Section would not have tolerated its people talking about freedom, yet it appeared this pair had. He frowned. Perhaps I've misread Michael after all.

--

Michael inhaled slowly. He was so close to obtaining real power in Section. Power to really make a difference in the world. Power to protect those who needed it most. So often it had only been this dream that had kept him going, enduring the humiliations, surviving the pain. It had never been an easy road, and he'd been close to giving up at times, but with the goal now so close...

There was temptation, he could not deny that. He loved Nikita. He had let her into his heart, woven her into his hopes for the future. He wanted a shared life with her. He had told himself it would not be an `either-or' situation.

Another deep inhalation. Her dreams have never been the same. The exposure of self-delusion was never welcome.

I have no right to be disappointed. Nikita has always argued the one matters more than the many.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Still, I wish I could have taught her otherwise.

--

"Alright."

Nikita stared at Michael's shuttered eyes, her hopes curdling. "You just want out of here," she accused, resentment flooding through her.

He stared back at her, then at his arm, which he slowly lifted, exerting obvious effort. Letting it drop back onto the bunk, he looked back at Nikita. She swallowed. Point taken.

--

Heinrich laced his fingers and leaned back in his chair, pleased. Nikita had chosen well with Michael. He felt a vicarious pride at the thought. It was a pity Michael would die soon, but then Heinrich had all but pledged his word that Nikita would be free. While Michael lived, that would never be true.

** (end part 7)

Nikita slumped against the wall outside Michael's door. Every time she thought she knew him, he showed her she didn't understand him at all.

She couldn't blame him for not trusting the offer. He'd been tortured. He was drugged. Nikita frowned. She didn't quite understand the drugs. Yes Michael was a formidable threat which could not be safely contained without restraint, but this seemed excessive. Maybe they didn't mean to drug him so heavily. Maybe he's just had an adverse reaction to whatever it is.

Nikita drifted down the hallway toward the surveillance station where it was most likely the medics would be, ignoring the guard/keeper who kept pace behind her at a safe distance. Her mind kept returning to Michael's apparent reluctance to embrace the concept of freedom. Heinrich's voice haunted her. Are you so conditioned to slavery that freedom is unthinkable?

It was possible, she reluctantly supposed. He'd been in Section for a very long time, enduring things she would have thought were unendurable, for no reason that he'd been prepared to give her. If that were the case though, she'd have to give up the dream of freedom with him that she clung to. No. There must be another reason. Maybe he thinks this is some kind of test. That the offer is bait. Paranoia became prudent habit when dealing with Section.

"He shouldn't be this weak." A male voice, the tone low, concerned. "You saw - he can barely lift his arm." The voice, coming from the surveillance station, was barely audible, but the words immediately grabbed Nikita's attention. She stopped in the hall, careful to maintain a distracted, casual air for her watcher. Slumping against the wall again, as if deep in thought, she waited to hear more.

A female voice, holding mild interest. "We don't know a lot about how it works on those who've had resistance training. Perhaps that's accelerating the effect."

Her words seemed to agitate her colleague. "He's supposed to be *mobile*. Able to walk out of here! Appear *normal*." After an exasperated pause he continued, voice intense, trying to drive his point home. "The orders were clear. He's not to die until he's well away from here."

Nikita stiffened reflexively.

Die?

**

Nikita wanted to see Heinrich, but she had no idea what she'd say to him. Should she confront him about Michael's condition? Should she simply express concern, pretending she didn't know what was really wrong?

Entering the communications area she found her quarry, but Heinrich was clearly busy. Nikita stood and watched him for over a minute, her emotions tumultuous. A decision had to be made.

Nikita's hand unconsciously came to rest lightly on her abdomen. Just before the mission had started Section had inserted a small device there.

She had expressed doubt over the device's size, which appeared large to her. It's supposed to be nanotechnology for goodness sake! She had been assured it could be made no smaller. "So long as you aren't subjected to an invasive scan, such as an MRI, it should not be detectable," the MedTech informed her. Nikita didn't bother to vocalise her thoughts on that statement.

Nikita had ran her hand over the near-invisible incision. The location and direction had unavoidably made her think of a kangaroo's pouch. "I feel like Skippy," she grumbled. The Hungarian-born MedTech looked at her in confusion. I guess Australia's answer to Lassie never made it to there.

All she had to do was ingest an enzyme embedded in her `nail polish' and the device would activate. Section would take out the base, and Michael would be saved. Why am I hesitating?

Section would also try to capture her father. If they succeeded he would be tortured before they killed him.

Her father.

The man who must be behind the order to kill Michael.

Nikita was ambivalent, even as she brought her hand to her mouth, feigning a nervous habit of nail-biting to cover her licking the material off the nails. Mentally she started a countdown.

Two minutes until activation. Nikita wandered aimlessly through the area, in keeping with her apparent nervousness, though she stayed near the computers. At the two minute mark she was meandering past a network hub.

A ten second burst transmission. She lingered close to the hub. Section had no intel on the network configuration Legion had, but a wireless ethernet had seemed probable. The transmission was pumping protocol packets into the network.

Nikita resumed her restless roaming. The network would now be in 'promiscuous mode' and the firewall would now be accepting connections through formerly closed ports.

A Section satellite would now be downloading code.

Legion's databases would now be dumping data to the uplink.

Section would be mobilising assault teams.

The sequence was in progress.

Turning back was impossible.

*** end part eight

Michael stared at the ceiling, thinking about Nikita. He loved her, despite the changes he saw in her. She had had to change to survive. He understood that, even if he didn't agree with some of the decisions she had made. Outwardly she was very different from the woman she'd been when she came to Section, but he held onto the belief that her essence was largely untouched.

She had seemed genuinely interested in being free. No, in being outside of Section. There was a distinct difference. They'd never be free of Section - it had branded itself indelibly on their psyches. What would they do if they were outside? He needed a purpose to his life. Would they, could they, find one out there, together?

Maybe it was worth the risks to find out... Michael was too tired to keep thinking. He wasn't as weak as he'd pretended - overplaying disability in hostile situations was standard procedure - but he was far from well. If he hadn't misread the situation, some kind of resolution would occur soon. He needed to be ready. Michael retreated into himself, hoarding his strength.

**

Heinrich finished the tactical review for the Berovshny mission. He'd been keeping an eye on Nikita's restless movements. She'd been clearly agitated about something when she had entered the room, and while she had settled down over the following half hour, he was curious to know what had upset her. He thought back over her conversation with Michael but could think of nothing in it to explain her mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Wrong?" Nikita blinked.

"You've been pacing, biting your nails." Nikita immediately folded her arms in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm worried about Michael."

"Michael?" Heinrich's posture and tone were open, interested.

"He's very weak. Was it necessary to drug him so heavily?" Explain it to me. Why have you done this?

"We thought so. He's very dangerous."

"We're accepting your offer. Do you expect me to carry him out of here?" Her tone was cold, laced with faint sarcasm.

"Of course not. It will be seen to," he assured her. He'd made no admissions, but, then, she had made no accusations.

Nikita decided to push further. "There'll be no long term effects?"

Was it her imagination that Heinrich's attention sharpened? "I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

Nikita shrugged. "I've never seen him like this before."

"He'll be fine," he assured her. Nikita was disappointed with his answer, and that disappointment fuelled her anger.

"I'm about to have a late supper. Would you like something to eat?" he asked.

"No. Thank you." Nikita's reply was stiff, almost formal.

We're back to the hostile attitude I see. I'm sorry for your pain, Nikita, but I'm doing this for your own good. You need to learn what's truly important.

**

Michael woke from a light doze upon hearing a familiar sound. Gunfire. Assault pattern.

Mission. There was no time to ponder the cause of the relief that swept through him. There was only reaction.

Michael stood, and swayed as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The nausea hit next. As both were expected, neither perturbed him. It was the random muscle spasms and a cold, aching feeling through his bones that made him determined to find out what he'd been given.

Focussing past the physical, Michael made his way to the door. He knew he was under surveillance, so there was little time. Shaking his head mentally in professional disapproval at the fact the door could be opened from the inside he yanked the door open and dispatched the startled guard.

Turning, with the guard's weapon in his possession, Michael killed two guards that had come out of an alcove. He headed down the hall toward it, pausing only once when a severe cramp temporarily grabbed his left calf muscle. Focus! he savagely berated himself.

Sliding against the wall, Michael glanced around the corner of the alcove, the equipment telling him it was a surveillance station. With a final glance up and down the corridor, he slipped into the small room. Immediately his gun was aimed at two cowering figures in the far corner.

"Please. Don't shoot us." By their clothes the man and woman were medical staff. It was the male who had spoken.

"Download everything you have about the drug I was given, including any counter." The command was soft, but unmistakable.

Nodding almost spasmodically, and trembling visibly, the male MedTech moved to comply.

"No!" The woman grabbed at her colleague. Michael shot her, then returned his attention to the shaking man.

"Now." The MedTech stared at him for several moments, almost unstrung by terror, before he turned to the terminal. Staring at it as if it were unfamiliar, he slowly entered the requisite commands and downloaded data onto a disk.

"Now bring up the building layout." Swallowing convulsively, the other man obeyed. Michael studied the schematic, looking for the most likely egress path of the Section team. He killed the MedTech, pocketed the disk, and headed back out into the corridor.

**

Nikita was taking the long way back to her room, mentally ticking off the minutes until the Section team arrived. As her mental countdown hit zero, she turned into an area she knew she wasn't permitted into.

"Stop!" her shadow called. She stopped, and turned to him enquiringly.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He approached her, gesturing down the corridor she had started down.

"That's an exclusion zone," he explained. Nikita waited until he came within reach, frowning as if confused, then attacked. Taking the guard's weapon, she headed back to the command area. On cue, she could hear the distant sound of gunfire.

When Nikita entered the command area she was surprised to find it empty. A transparent containment screen walled off one corner. She moved cautiously into the open space, alert for an ambush.

"Hello Nikita." She whirled around, ready to fire. Heinrich was leaning over a console in the contained area, typing rapidly. His voice was coming out of the intercom unit on the desk near her.

"I'm proud of you, you know. You fooled me completely. I really thought you were only doing Section's bidding because they forced you to."

"I believe in what Section aims to achieve." It was the response expected of her, so she gave it, her voice somewhat robotic. Heinrich didn't seem to notice.

"I see that now. It pleases me." He seemed sincere, which confused Nikita. "Not the side you chose, of course, but that you chose a side." Nikita frowned, not seeing his point.

"Your people are dead. Give yourself up." Nikita was nervous about what he might be doing.

Heinrich frowned at her. "So I can be tortured for days on end before being killed?" His tone was sardonic. Nikita bit her lip and made an impulsive decision.

"What if I said you could go? Leave now. Disappear. Never come back."

Heinrich looked at her thoughtfully. "You'd let me go?"

"If you tell me how to save Michael." It was a desperate bargain.

"Ah. So that's what you were upset about earlier. How did you find out?" His tone was conversational, but most of his attention was on the command sequences he was entering.

"Doesn't matter. Why? Why do it? Why break your promise?" He looked up at the last question.

"I didn't. Freedom is important, Nikita. Worth fighting for. Worth dying for."

"I don't understand," she admitted.

"I know," he said gently. "And it makes me sad. I had hoped you could be made whole again." As Nikita opened her mouth to protest, he continued. "People can't do that Nikita. People die. People lie. People betray. Only faith can make you whole. Belief." His voice was intense and the fanatical fervour had returned.

Uncomfortable, Nikita repeated her plea. "Tell me. Please. Then you can be free."

Heinrich chuckled. "No. It's too late to escape now. The self destruct is set." He pressed one last key with a flourish.

Nikita helplessly watched Heinrich choose death over capture, knowing she would have stopped him if it had been possible. Despite knowing capture's consequences. A memory surfaced, of a rare quiet, intimate moment with Michael. She had asked him what he was thinking about. "I was wondering what mercy is," he'd replied. Nikita had been stunned and confused. What did he mean `what is mercy?'. It was obvious and she pitied him for thinking he didn't know. Now she realised it was she who did not know. She never had.

Tears flooded her eyes as she turned and ran.

** end part nine

Nikita ran toward the Section team, her choice making her feel very guilty. Michael will be all right. He's gotten himself out of worse situations. I couldn't have carried him out myself. Her rationalisations didn't make the guilt fade.

Nikita found where the team had regrouped. She anxiously scanned the area, looking for, but not finding, Michael. She clamped down on panic.

"There's a self-destruct. Immediate egress," she ordered. She hesitated, not wanting to leave Michael behind. A shadow detached itself from the wall, catching her eye, and Nikita felt her body unclench momentarily with relief. Thank God.

As they ran out of the building, shooting whatever residual resistance they encountered, Nikita kept a worried eye on Michael. He kept up. He overplayed his condition, she realised. He doesn't know what they did though. How is he, really? She tried to catch his eye once they were loaded into the van, but he didn't look at her.

Not once.

Nikita felt a coldness creep through her as they drove away from the exploding building. Does he think I would have abandoned him?

**

Michael was sweating, his eyes glassy, as he disembarked in Van Access. Nikita hovered slightly behind him, concerned about his condition. Madeline was waiting outside the door for them.

Madeline looked Michael over. "Are you alright?" she asked. Nikita, expecting him to say he was fine despite that being patently false, drew breath to inform her of his condition.

"I require medical treatment." Michael's reply forestalled her.

"What's wrong?" Madeline showed mild interest. Michael was experienced in judging his own condition and knew his limits. Thinks he knows his limits she amended. That he felt he needed treatment was significant.

"The details are on this disk," he replied, extracting a disk from a pocket. Nikita was stunned.

**

Nikita entered Madeline's office expecting a gruelling debrief. She had never enjoyed the battle of wits such sessions could become as Madeline sought to dissect every action and uncover every thought. That was especially true this time, given the raw nature of her feelings.

"How do you feel Nikita?" Another one of Madeline's artfully simple, but multi-layered, opening questions.

"Tired." Nikita decided to give a simple, but multi-layered answer. Madeline indicated approval by modulating her expression to understanding/sympathy and inclining her head.

"Your report seems complete. Do you have any questions?" Nikita was surprised, then suspicious. She had expected Madeline to probe deeply into her failure to bring Heinrich in alive, as profiled. There were a couple of other things she had been less than comprehensive about as well.

Of course, her questions would tell Madeline some of what she wanted to know about Nikita's mental state. Nikita decided she didn't care. "Why was Michael sent in?" Madeline would be expecting this, so it revealed little.

"He was your backup."

"Backup? He was tortured. He wasn't in any condition to be backup." Nikita snorted.

"Your report states he extracted himself without assistance. That shows he had sufficient capability." And what did you make of that, Madeline? Nikita shifted direction.

"He wasn't briefed on my mission. I wasn't briefed on his role. It introduced significant risk." Her tone was critical.

"It required improvisation from both of you," Madeline conceded. "But we were confident you could handle it." Nikita knew better than to take that as some form of compliment.

"I still think it unnecessarily endangered the outcome." Nikita kept the offensive.

Madeline's nod was an acknowledgement of her opinion, not an agreement. Silence fell as the two women moved their thrust and parry to a more psychic level. She's learned well Madeline thought approvingly.

"You haven't asked about Housekeeping's report," Madeline noted after a period of silence.

"I presumed all the Legion personnel were accounted for." Nikita's tone was tighter, Madeline observed.

"Yes. They were."

**

Madeline entered Operations' office with a faint air of expectation. He had watched her debrief of Nikita remotely.

"She stopped by MedLab for an update on Michael's condition before leaving," he informed her.

"Did she speak with him?"

"No."

"How is he?" she enquired.

"We synthesized an antidote. He'll be fine in a week or so. The compound they gave him was something new. I've had Analysis take a look at it. See if we can use it."

"A satisfactory outcome, then."

Operations smiled. "Definitely."

There was one thing he was curious about, however. "Would she have taken Legion's bait if they hadn't made the mistake of endangering Michael?" he asked Madeline.

"Possibly," she admitted frankly. Operations frowned at this answer. "The real question, though, is whether Michael would have."

Operations clearly hadn't considered this possibility to be likely. He suddenly looked worried.

"I suggest you find the answer," he advised dryly.

**

Nikita walked into Section unenthusiastically. She had been given three days of downtime. Three days to think about the mission, what she could have done, should have done. Had there been a way to save the man who'd fathered her? Having met him, how did she really feel about him? She had come to several, contradictory conclusions.

What flattened her spirits further was her review of her conversations with Michael during the mission. Had he used a cover of deception to tell her what he felt was truth? She was uneasy that the answer to that question was yes.

Nikita gave a half smile of sadness as she recalled a conversation months before. She had complained to Michael yet again about Section's flexible approach to the truth. "Section lives by Churchill's dictum," he had replied. "`In wartime truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.'" Nikita still believed they carried the idea to extremes.

Is it too late for us Michael? Were you trying to tell me that? No, she couldn't, wouldn't, believe things between them had gone beyond repair. Gathering her resolve with a deep breath, Nikita headed for Medlab.

Nikita entered Medlab slowly, uncertain whether she felt relief or disappointment at finding Michael quietly asleep. He was recovering well, according to the MedLab technician she had asked. He certainly looks better than he did. She stood for several minutes, her eyes roaming over his face.

How to tell him her expressions of caring on the mission had not been an act? That she dreamed of them together, free? She needed to start bridging the emotional ravine she had created between them. A coded message: one that had special meaning only to them, but which would reveal nothing to those who watched her now. Memory supplied a situation not unlike this one.

Nikita wasn't sure if Michael was conscious enough to hear or understand, but she seized on the chance to reach him. Leaning down she whispered, "It wasn't all a lie" and gently kissed him. Not a muscle twitched in Michael's body, to her disappointment. Hoping, with a desperation that surprised her, that he had heard, that he understood, she left.

** end of story (thank goodness!)

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