Nikita hadn't expected to have a conversation with a computer. Vaytas' voice, mechanical and cold, reminded her bitterly of Seymour's insane bridge program.

Nikita stared at the computer screen and dug in her heels-mentally and physically. Michael's life depended on what she could achieve here.

"Vaytas?" Nikita said as she inserted a prepared diskette.

"Yes?"

"Do you know who I am?"

"Nikita Jones, current Operational commander, Section One."

"I was placed in this position based on your recommendation, correct?"

"Correct."

"Vaytas, scan the diskette I just inserted."

"Scanning."

"Based on your projections, what is the probability that Section One can survive, if I die?"

"Approximately 13%."

Nikita felt surprised at the low number, but even more hopeful that her plan could work.

"If I were to die suddenly, who could step in and bring the survival rate to an acceptable level? Scan all of the Sections for personal, past and present, still living."

"Zero response. There are no living Section personnel that can fulfill this task."

Nikita frowned for a moment. Michael's name should have come up immediately. Perhaps she had not asked the question correctly; Michael was technically no longer Section personnel. She made another attempt.

"What if Michael Samuelle was returned to Section One as an operative?"

"There is a 98% probability that Operative Samuelle could prevent the destruction of Section One in your absence."

Nikita sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. She reached down and drew a knife out of a belt sheathe and calmly drew it across her wrist.

"Well, I'm dying," she said softly. "What do you propose?"

"I have activated the alarm in medical. Assistance is coming."

"Wrong answer. I will refuse assistance."

"If you refuse assistance, you will die."

"Yes, I know. But I am dying anyway, without Michael Samuelle."

"Suicide is inconsistent with your character."

Nikita chuckled, remembering the cold feel of a gun barrel she'd once pressed to her forehead.

"A lot you know," she muttered.

"This cannot continue. You will bleed to death in minutes. You must seek medical treatment immediately."

"Why should I?"

"If you die, Section One will not survive."

"Why should I care?"

The computer couldn't answer, except to insist that the Section must survive.

"All right. If it is so important that Section survive, then I want Michael Samuelle returned to Section as an operative."

"His return would violate Agency directives."

"The Agency can alter its directives based on your recommendations, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then if Section One is to survive, you'd better make the recommendation. Better hurry too." She said weakly, sliding down and sitting on the floor. "I don't think I have much longer."

"Damn it, Nikita!" Walter's face hovered over her, as he accompanied her down the hall on a medical gurney. "Are you completely nuts?"

"Completely-but Michael's been reinstated into Section One." She smiled before passing out entirely.

* * *

Kate Quinn studied the data on her screen with much trepidation. As much as she would hate to admit it, Nikita's recent order to place Section One on alert one status, seemed to have been the prudent thing to do. Something was definitely up-but no one quite knew what.

Section had intercepted a communiqué between Red Cell and Black Storm; two groups that literally hated one another, were now speaking with each other? Why? That would be like the IRA whispering sweet nothings in the ears of the Radical Orangemen!

Quinn shook her head. What could these two groups possibly want to talk to each other about? A prisoner exchange came to mind, but both terrorist organizations rarely ever took prisoners, and then only to torture them to death for information. Had there been a major change in policy or command? Hopefully not-any terrorist killed by another terrorist was one less that Section One had to deal with.

There were also reports of major arms deals, huge amounts of arms and ammunition, being bought and sold. Was a full-scale war brewing? If so, against whom? Logic suggested against the Sections, but that would be impossible unless they knew their locations. Even then, no one group had the manpower to attack, unless... Kate's face grew pale. Unless one or more groups banded together!

She looked at the time and stood. Staff meeting was in five minutes. It was as good a time as any to report her findings, provided Nikita would listen to them. But the last time Nikita had asked for Kate's recommendation she hadn't taken it.

Kate leaned over her desk and took a deep breath. Chances were Nikita wouldn't listen to this recommendation either, but it had to be said. Kate had a sixth sense about some things and she simply knew she was right on this one.

* * *

The teams were gathered around the briefing table when Nikita walked in. There were some raised eyebrows over the large pressure bandage around her left wrist, but no one dared to ask about it.

"Jason, your report."

"Nothing's changed. Worldwide it's been quiet, except for an increase in arms shipments. Something's about to go down, somewhere. It's only a matter of time."

"Sakira? Your thoughts?"

"I agree with Jason. All teams are on alert as you ordered. I've sent an infiltration team into a known Red Cell operation. I expect a report back shortly."

"Kate?"

Quinn took a deep breath and stood. She picked up the media controller and clicked it.

"We've intercepted a communiqué that suggests that Red Cell and Black Storm are working together." The decoded contents of the message scrolled in front of the operatives.

"Working together?" Walter questioned.

"Or at least, talking together. Based on what we know of both groups, that is such an unlikely scenario, to be disturbing by itself."

Nikita nodded in agreement.

"And?"

"And as Jason said, there have been numerous reports of large arms shipments-huge shipments in fact-enough to arm a small army. The buyers have been Red Cell, Black Storm and the Collective-at least so far."

"Has the Agency commented on this?"

"Well, they have acknowledged the increase in arms shipments and have gone as far as to inform western governments." Quinn paused, knowing what else she had to say was not going to be well liked by anyone.

Nikita paced quietly for a moment. "Go on."

"I think we may have a real problem on our hands."

"Why?"

'Here goes.' Kate thought unhappily.

"I think one or more terrorists groups are banding together to fight the Sections en masse."

"How could they? Other than taking out small teams here and there, they couldn't possibly win." Nikita countered.

"They could if they had our location." Kate added soberly.

"True, but how could they get that information? We've had no intel breach-"

"-That we know of." Kate finished.

"You have to admit, the idea is scary if she's right." Walter cut in.

"I can't think of any other reason that these groups would work together. Can you?" Kate continued.

"If they do know our location, you know what that means," Nikita said softly.

"It means we have to evacuate the Sections and get to our fall-back positions immediately." Kate tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry as dirt.

"That's your recommendation?" Nikita asked pointedly.

"Yes." Quinn replied quietly, knowing it sounded drastic and the Agency would never allow it.

Nikita stood silently for a long moment, and then said, "I agree."

Kate's mouth dropped open, realized it, and closed it again.

"Nikita! You'll never get permission from the Agency to do that!" Kate said.

Nikita nodded. "That's why I'm not going to ask their permission."

Every eye widened at that remark.

"Jason, start recall procedures of all off-duty personnel. All in-house personnel are to report to their respective duty stations and pack everything we need to take with us. Walter-you get some operatives from Bravo team to help you in munitions. I want everyone inside armed immediately. Issue side arms and flack jackets to everyone here."

"Nikita, the Agency's going to know if we evacuate," Walter warned.

She smiled. "They won't care, not if I tell them it's part of an exercise. They suggested we use this lull in missions to train, didn't they?"

Ace laughed. "That they did, boss."

"Then let's 'train'. Jason start the clock. I want us out of here in two hours. Sakira, I want double sentries posted, and all avenues of egress locked down tight until we get ready to leave. Ace, take a team to the fallback position and set up shop. Jason, you're on that team-as soon as you get your people briefed on shutting this place down. Jasmine, you're with me. Any questions?"

No one ventured any.

"Good, let's go."

"What about the other Sections?" Jasmine asked as she and Nikita reached Nikita's quarters.

"As soon as we have hard data that Kate's right, we'll alert the others. In the meantime, I can let them know we are practicing evacuation. Maybe they might decide to do the same."

Nikita pulled out her black battledress and waved Jasmine over to help.

"What happened to your arm?" Jasmine asked as she held Nikita's jacket out.

"Had a little accident. Nothing serious." She slipped her injured arm gingerly into the sleeve, and then followed with the other.

"As soon as I'm dressed, I want you to get down to munitions and give Walter a hand."

"What about you?" Jasmine asked, helping Nikita lace up her boots.

"I have a few things to take care of in my office."

"Are we going to incinerate Section after we leave?" Jasmine asked, remembering a comment that Walter had made immediately after the meeting.

Nikita smiled. "Think the Agency will cancel me for it?"

"God, yes!" Jasmine replied.

"Well, I'll wait for confirmation first." Nikita assured. "Thanks for the help. Get down and help Walter. I'll be down in a few."

Jasmine nodded and left.

When she was alone, Nikita picked up her cell phone.

"Michael?"

"Yes."

"You're in. But meet me at the neighbor's house, okay?" Nikita said, using code since their cell phone conversation could be intercepted.

There was a moment's pause.

"I understand."

"See you soon."

"Be careful." Michael said softly and hung up.

"If I'm still alive," Nikita murmured as she strapped on her weapon.

She trotted down to her office and called up access to Vaytas.

"Query mode." Nikita began.

"Ready."

"Scenario is this: All known enemies of Section are communicating with each other and have engaged in acquiring large cashes of arms and ammunition. There has been a worldwide lull in terrorist's attacks during the past several weeks. If this is happening, can you profile their objectives?"

"Most likely scenario would be attack against the Sections. However, such an attack could only be successful if terrorists have Section locations," Vaytas reminded.

"Let's say, the possibility exists."

"Attack would be en masse and coordinated to happen all at once."

"Estimated Section casualties?"

"Given the element of surprise, up to 90 percent."

"And if there is no element of surprise?"

"Rate will fall proportionally to the magnitude of preparedness."

"Worse case?"

"Forty-five percent."

Still lousy odds, Nikita thought.

"All right. I want you to consider ways Section's position may have been compromised. I'll want a report by 1900 today. Nikita out."

* * *

Michael watched Adam sleep, his precious face pressed into a small pillow, wedged against the window of the private jet.

So, it had come to this. Michael stared at his reflection in the window, against the night sky and saw the lines of sadness drawn there.

Freedom hadn't been freedom at all. Somehow, the Collective had found them. Or perhaps they had always known where they were.

Adam's clothing had been scanned for transmitters when the Collective released him. Had one been missed? It was possible, but not probable. Section equipment was quite thorough, and even if it hadn't been, Michael had removed and tossed away the clothes his son had worn that morning.

It was a puzzle that his mind was too tired to tame, and yet he couldn't sleep. In a matter of hours he would see Nikita again. The very thought sent his heart pumping harder, more so because her cryptic request to meet him at 'the neighbors' meant something was happening that was so severe as to evacuate Section.

Was it simple coincidence that he and Section One had been compromised at the same time? Michael didn't believe in coincidence very much. Everything happened for a reason, whether you understood that reason or not.

He closed his eyes, and thought back to the moments on the bridge-seeing Adam, listening to Jones outline what he wanted Nikita to do, the exchange, the sound of the bullets as they hit their target, and Nikita's controlled anguish. One father had been restored to his son in the same moment that another had been ripped out of his daughter's life. It had been a terrible thing to witness, yet in the end, Nikita realized her father had not been made to suffer.

Michael thought it strange at the time that the Collective had killed him; Jones' capture and interrogation would have been a major coup-but of course they must have realized that Jones had a failsafe. Michael thought of the membrane Jones had offered him. No doubt Jones had prepared himself in the same way.

An employee of the NSA walked down the isle and leaned down to speak, so as not to wake the sleeping child.

"We are on final approach to Orly. There will be a car to meet you and take you to the rendezvous location."

"Thank you." Michael replied. "It will be good to see home again."

'And to see Nikita again,' his heart added.

Michael leaned over his son and gently tugged on Adam's earlobe. The little boy squirmed in his sleep but did not awaken. It was then that Michael noticed a small, white scar behind Adam's right ear. He took a closer look, tracing the scar with his fingertip, wondering how and when his son had hurt himself. His heart grew cold when his finger moved lower and felt something just beneath the skin-hard, and narrow, like an uncooked grain of rice. A subcutaneous tracker? But Section had scanned Adam for a tracker and hadn't found one. He pressed slightly harder on the object and felt his son's pulse. Whatever it was, it was lying directly against his son's carotid artery. Realization of what else it could be, suddenly knifed its way through Michael's soul…

* * *

Nikita watched the last few operatives leave through Section's underground exit. She and Sakira would be the last to leave, just one more thing to do before they did.

Slipping the command key from around her neck, Nikita inserted it into a slot on the wall in the aerie and turned it counter-clockwise.

"Self-destruct sequence initiated. Please authenticate." A computerized voice ordered.

Nikita leaned in to a light, allowing her retina to be scanned.

"Sequence, on my command."

"On your command," the computer repeated.

"On timed delay, zero zero," Nikita ordered.

"Awaiting final order," the computer replied.

Nikita nodded to herself. Self-destruct was in a holding pattern and would remain that way until she contacted the computer to give the final order. Until she was sure Section had been compromised, she didn't dare give the final order.

"Let's go," she told Sakira.

Nikita's cell phone rang and she grabbed it and flipped it open as she and Sakira ran to the elevator.

"Josephine."

The voice stopped Nikita in her tracks.

"Michael?"

"I can't make the rendezvous. We have to meet somewhere else."

Puzzled, Nikita continued into the elevator, leaving it to Sakira to get them to their destination.

"Where?"

"Is Section One compromised?"

"Yes, at least I'm pretty sure it is."

"Then meet me there with a medical team."

"What? Why?"

"It's Adam. They've put something inside him."

"What is it?"

"It could be a tracker."

Or it could be something infinitely worse; Nikita could hear the fear in Michael's voice.

"Understood. Come in. I'll have a team assembled."

"Thank you." Michael whispered and hung up.

* * *

"Are you crazy?" Ace Spragnola blurted out when Nikita arrived at the alternate site and ordered him to organize a small assault team to accompany her and the medics back to Section One. "We can't let you go back there when an attack might be imminent!"

"He's right," Quinn inserted coolly. "You're Operations. You can't put yourself at risk."

"All the more reason to go back. Section One is my responsibility." Nikita replied shooting Kate a bitter look.

"You are Section One," Ace continued. "Your place is with the unit, and the unit is here. That's SOP and you know it."

Nikita gazed at her advisors unmoved by their opinions.

"Quinn, you'll have command, when I'm killed. Until that time, I'm still Operations and as Operations I have the prerogative to set aside SOP when I see fit. Now see to your team, Spragnola!"

Ace blew out a lungful of air and swung his well-muscled body around to do as she ordered.

Nikita continued getting ready, strapping on body armor, under Sakira's silent examination.

"Well?" Nikita asked in a challenging voice.

He stepped forward and helped her to adjust a strap.

"I think you are correct in returning," Sakira said quietly. "However, I do have a suggestion."

* * *

"Where are we, Daddy?" Adam asked in awe, looking around the huge main room of Section One.

To Michael, it looked, as it always had, like a cold and forbidding prison, only now it was devoid of any inmates save for himself.

"This is the place where Daddy used to work." Michael explained sadly, looking down at his son. There was no point in lying to Adam about anything anymore. By returning to this place, he had sealed both their fates. Freedom had only been an illusion anyway.

Adam looked around, with a mildly curious expression, before yawning.

"I'm tired, Daddy." He leaned against Michael's hip.

"I know." Michael said, bending down to pick him up. "Let's find a place for you to sleep." He carried Adam to medical, laid him on one of the beds and covered him. "Sleep now. Daddy will be right here."

Michael's hand stroked his son's hair until Adam drifted off.

"I'm sorry for all of this," Michael whispered to his child. "You were the one thing in my life I hoped that would be untouched by what I've become."

"Michael?"

He turned, still dressed in grass-stained jeans and faced the woman silhouetted in the doorway. She stepped closer, gun drawn, dressed in black body armor and combat boots. Behind her were six other operatives, and four doctors carrying cases.

Wordlessly, Michael stepped aside to allow them to see his son.

Nikita holstered her weapon and went to stand at Michael's side as the doctor's descended on Adam.

"Which side?" One doctor asked quietly over his shoulder at Michael, as another doctor injected Adam with something to keep him asleep.

"Below his right ear." Michael answered.

The doctor nodded and ordered, "Let's get that x-ray machine over here."

Michael felt Nikita's hand enclose his.

"Come on. There's nothing more you can do for him now. We need to talk." Nikita told him gently.

They walked to the command aerie in silence, connected only by hands that clung tightly to each other.

When they arrived Nikita let go of his hand and turned to face him.

"I don't think I'll be able to stand it, if he dies." Michael said softly, his eyes brimming with tears.

Nikita took his face between her hands. "I need you to be strong, Michael, for Adam and for me. If I'm right, Section's going to come under attack. I need your help, and there's probably not much time."

One hot tear fell against Nikita's wrist, before Michael nodded and wearily pulled himself together.

"What's our status?" He asked softly.

"Practically every terrorist group we deal with has gone dark in the past few weeks, but arms shipments are up. I can't prove it, but analysis suggests the Sections have either been breached or their locations compromised. I think we are in the calm before the storm."

"Do you know how the Sections could have been compromised?"

Nikita shook her head.

"About how long ago did the lull in activities begin?"

"About a week after I took over."

"About a week after your father died?" Michael countered after a moments pause.

Puzzled, Nikita nodded.

"His body was returned to Section, wasn't it?"

"Yes. The Agency wanted an autopsy."

"Why?"

"Standard procedure when someone from the Agency dies in the line of duty."

"Did they remove the bullets that killed him?"

"Yes, but... "

"I think that's how they breached security." Michael turned on his heel and made for the door with Nikita following him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I wondered why they killed him. It was evidently what they wanted from the beginning. They knew we would retrieve the body. They put trackers in the bullets, on a timed delay. Probably did the same with Adam. That's why he passed detection."

"But we bring in wounded operatives all the time... " Nikita replied.

"Apparently no one ever thought of doing this before, or they simply didn't have trackers sophisticated enough to do it before now."

"We have to call the Agency! If they tracked my father into Section, they can track others the same way. All of the Sections could be compromised!"

Michael nodded. "And once they have all our locations, they'll attack."

"They've had plenty of time," Nikita said as they arrived in Walter's area.

"I think they are trying to find the Agency. The fastest way to kill the body is to attack the head." Michael said, drawing off his shirt and replacing it with Section issue, black battledress and full body armor.

"I have to go call the Agency on a secure channel. Are you going to be all right?" Nikita asked soberly, placing her palm against his cheek.

Silently, he covered her hand with his own, nodded, then lifted her hand and buried his lips against the center of her palm. It was, at once, a gesture of his passionate devotion and his utter despair.

"I'll be back in a minute." Nikita assured him, and left him to finish donning his equipment.

Jasmine, who had been standing in comm., witnessing the exchange between Michael and Nikita, made a face and grumbled aloud with mild disgust.

"Is there a problem, Ms Kwong?" Sakira asked quietly.

Startled, Jasmine looked over her shoulder at him. She hadn't realized Sakira was standing there.

"He's going to get us all killed," she muttered bitterly.

"Who?"

"Michael, that's who. Nikita is risking all of us, just for him."

"Why would she?" He asked, stepping closer, and glancing over at Michael, who was loading his 9mm, unaware of their scrutiny.

"Because she loves him, why else would a woman risk everything?" She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think love is brain disease!"

"I take it, you've never been in love." Sakira said gently.

"I've never been that stupid!" She retorted angrily.

Sakira gazed at her for a long moment, then surprised her by taking her chin in his hand and lifting it. "That's a pity," he said with quiet passion. "I'd give my life to love again, even if it were unrequited."

Stunned by his comment, Jasmine watched in silence as Sakira released her and strode over to where Michael was standing.

* * *

"Has this been verified? Were trackers found in the bullets?" Sands' voice was somewhere between polite and skeptical.

"It's impossible to verify. The bullets have long since been disposed of-look, just as a precaution, I think a general alarm should go out to the Sections," Nikita continued.

"We'll take it under advisement."

"Sir, it wouldn't be a bad idea to relocate the Agency as well."

"Nikita, you're asking me to make a decision based on your best guess and your gut feeling. I don't have that authority. All I can do is recommend to the..."

"Well, do it then!" Nikita interrupted. "I have to get my people ready. Nikita out!" Nikita made a face. She hated political games and had no patience with those who played them. Punching in a number, she contacted Jason at the alternate site.

"Jason, send to the other Sections, a recommendation to evacuate. The Agency is foot-dragging. They will probably tell me to go to hell, but if I'm going to sleep at night, I have to try and warn them."

"Do we have an estimated window of attack?" Jason asked. "You know they'll want to know."

Nikita closed her eyes and shook her head, then realized that's what she was doing and restated her doubts vocally. "Your guess is as good as mine. It could be hours or days."

"All right, I'll send the message. It's only going to make them cranky for more information."

"Good. The more people we get investigating, the better off we'll be." An incoming message made Nikita's board alarm go off. "Gotta go, Jason. Keep me informed on anything the other Sections come up with. Nikita out."

She saw that the incoming message was from the medlab and unconsciously took in a deep breath.

"Operations-this is Nikita. What is it?"

"Not good news, I'm afraid. The device is a tracker, but it is also a small detonator-we think radio controlled."

"Is it removable?"

"Sure, unless..."

"Unless?"

"Well there's no way to tell if there's a failsafe. It could go off if we try to remove it. The explosive is some sort of plastique. It could react to contacting air, or to being removed from the warmth of the body; we have no way of knowing. What do you want us to do?"

Nikita paused. This was a decision that wasn't hers to make.

"I'll get back with you in a few minutes."

She switched off the wall screen of the aerie and reluctantly went to tell Michael the news.

Nikita found Michael and Sakira standing at the conference table with a 3-D schematic of Section One hovering above it. Recognizing the attack and retreat symbols throughout the schematic, it wasn't hard to see they were planning a "bait and switch" defense. If it was successful, the total destruction of Section might be temporarily avoided. If not ... she glanced at the aerie and the computer panel that was patiently awaiting the final order to self-destruct.

"Michael, they need you in medlab." Nikita said gently. She saw him fold himself into machine mode and recognized it for what it was, a protective mechanism that kept him together emotionally. She made no attempt to touch him or offer sympathy. Michael didn't need to be distracted from what he had to do-for Adam, for Section, or for himself. There would be time later, she hoped, to show her support. For now, all she could do was wait and hope for the best.

* * *

"Walter?" Nikita answered the call on her computer screen and found Walter's somber visage staring back at her.

"Yeah. Just read the latest report on the bullets. Damn brilliant! Wish I had thought of it. When are you pulling up stakes over there and coming back in?"

"We're not, Walter. Michael and Sakira have a plan. Since we know they're coming, we might as well make them pay for the trip."

"It's safer to fall back and let them have it." Walter observed unhappily.

"For the moment, we couldn't leave if we wanted to. The Collective put a micro-detonator inside Adam." Nikita said worriedly. "Michael's down there now-he's got to make the decision on whether we chance removing it. The doctor's worried about a failsafe."

Walter sighed and nodded. "Poor little kid. It never seems to end for him, does it?-or for Michael either."

Nikita gave him a half-hearted shrug.

"Is there anything I can do?" Walter asked.

"You could speak with the doctor. You know explosives. Maybe you can help identify the type before they attempt to remove it."

"I'll try. Patch me down there."

"Thanks, Walter." Nikita said with weary affection.

"Anytime, Sugar."

* * *

Michael watched the doctor's head shake and his shoulder shrug in apology. There could be no guarantees, no assurances that the procedure wouldn't kill Adam. But Adam would most assuredly die at the Collective's hand at some point. It was only a question of when.

Left alone with his son to make the decision, Michael gazed at the sleeping child numb with grief. Lose him now, or lose him later? Michael didn't even dare believe he wouldn't lose him. It wasn't his lot in this life to be happy and everyone he'd ever loved had been taken from him. And now Adam.

He stroked his son's shiny hair, feeling the gloss of it as it feathered through his fingers. They wanted an answer. They wanted a decision. But for the first time in his life, Michael was incapable of making one.

"Michael." Nikita's voice was tender as her arms inched around him and pulled him close.

"Let them try, Michael. You know it's the only choice we have." Nikita whispered. "And there's not much time."

Michael nodded then briefly leaned his face against hers. They stood together for a long moment, before Michael drew away and opened the door.

"Do it. Then as soon as you're finished, evac the patient and your team to the alternate site." Michael ordered the attending physician quietly.

As the doctor's swarmed back inside with their patient, Michael turned on his heel to leave, with Nikita at his side.

* * *

As Jason had intercepted Nikita in comm with a message, Michael walked to his old office and opened the door to find Sakira seated at the desk speaking with two operatives, one of whom Michael knew as Jasmine Kwong.

"Do you need something, Michael?" Sakira asked, getting to his feet.

"No, just force of habit. Sorry to disturb you." Michael replied, feeling chagrinned, and left.

"How good is he?" Michael asked as he returned to Nikita's side, as she reviewed the message Jason had given her at the briefing table.

"Who?"

"My replacement."

Nikita smiled faintly. "They're both pretty good in their areas."

"They?"

"Sakira and Spragnola-Sakira has a gift for tactical planning and Spragnola has the skills to carryout Sakira's plans. Taken together, they almost replace one of you."

"I feel rather redundant," Michael commented quietly, feeling somewhat out of place.

Nikita shook her head and spoke seriously.

"Never that, Michael. It's you that should be head of Section One. It was something you worked for all of your life. I can't imagine why father thought I would be any good at it."

"No, your father was right. You are the best possible choice for the position of Operations." Michael's expression was serious and sincere.

"Why do you think that?" Asked Nikita, rather shocked at his statement.

"Because of your humanity. Because you can think with your head and temper your decisions with your heart. You were the only one that hadn't lost their moral compass. You understand, as Adrian did, what the true purpose of the Sections is all about. Protecting the innocent, not acquiring power."

Nikita looked around to see that no one could overhear their conversation before confessing, "But I'm terrified, Michael. I have all these people depending on me-on my decisions."

"Do you think I was any less terrified? That Operations wasn't? It's part of the job, Nikita. Being terrified keeps you alive."

"But I-I feel strange being in command-giving you orders, especially."

Michael reached for her hand and kissed it. "You are Operations, and I am yours to command."

An exclamation coming from comm, got their attention.

"Something's happenin'," Jason commented, staring at his computer screen.

"What is it?"

"I have a report from ... the Agency's under attack!"

"It's started." Nikita looked at Michael, who squeezed her hand once.

"Notify all the Sections again, in case they don't know. Michael, I need the teams briefed final, now!"

"Kwong, Sakira, Spragnola-this is it," Michael told them as he reached Sakira's office. Everyone scrambled to the briefing table, calling their respective team members as they ran.

"Alpha team, will be the first to engage. Meet the enemy here, lay down a suppressing fire, and then fall back to secondary positions, here, here, and here. If all goes as planned, we'll allow the infiltrators to this point where we can trap them between the inner and outer doors, and release the gas. We want to capture some alive for interrogation." With Michael standing quietly at his side, Sakira briefed the teams, both seated and standing at the table.

"Bravo team will be responsible for getting the medical team and their patient back to our fallback location. Since normal egress will most likely be the main avenue of attack, you will have to use the engineering access tunnels. It's a tight squeeze in places, but should be the safest route to the surface. I want everyone on Bravo to be in civilian clothes with flack vests underneath. Clothing's already in the tunnels for you, vehicles have been located on the street above for your use, and your routes back to the alternate sites are on your panels. Study them and delete. Questions?"

"Will we be returning here afterwards?" Jasmine asked.

"No. If Alpha succeeds, you won't be needed. If we fail, your return would be pointless." Michael answered quietly.

"They're here!" Jason called aloud, swinging around in his chair and yanking off his headset.

"Go." Nikita ordered Jasmine and her team. "Get to medical and evacuate as soon as you can. Jason, Sakira, go with her. They'll need you both back at the alternate location."

"They have Quinn, she can handle comm just fine-you might need me," Jason insisted. His expression and offer of help reminded Nikita so much of his brother Seymour that she smiled.

"All right, Mr. Birkoff, you stay. Sakira-hope to see you soon. Take them out." Nikita finished as she, Michael, and all of Alpha team ran to their preplanned positions.

* * *

Nikita and Michael stood side by side in the elevator with their team behind them. Without turning her head, Nikita asked gently, "Aren't you going to call medical for his status?"

"No. Not knowing might be better than knowing," Michael replied. His face stared impassively at the elevator door, with his assault rifle cradled his arms.

Nikita decided to leave it at that. "Get ready," she half-turned and spoke over her shoulder. At her command, she heard weapons being locked and loaded.

"Jason?"

"I'm here."

"Status?"

"They are following profile. They're setting charges on the level one van access doors now."

"Good." Nikita replied, as the elevator doors opened and they all spilled out into the corridor. "We've reached first mark. When they access the door, set off the klaxon-they'll expect that."

"Let's hope they still believe they have the advantage of surprise," Spragnola murmured beneath his breath.

"They tracked me here," Michael turned to Ace. "If anything, that should make them more confident that we don't know they're coming. They know I wouldn't deliberately expose Section."

There was a sudden, strong vibration that shook the floor, followed by the sound of the alert klaxon going off.

"Team one, insertion-go!" Nikita ordered.

Four operatives sprinted down a hallway, led by Spragnola. They stopped at a point just south of where the hall intersected another access way. Spragnola pulled the pin on a stun grenade and tossed it around the corner. A small explosion ensued. The team immediately rounded the corner, firing their weapons.

"Ace, report!"

A few seconds passed before Spragnola's voice, breathing heavily replied, "Six enemy killed. My team's solid. I can hear them regrouping-second wave on their way."

"Go to your fall back position and hold." Nikita ordered, looking at her watch.

"Yeah, boss." Spragnola's quipped breathlessly and waved at his team to fall back around the corner.

"Jason? Any idea what they are doing now?"

"Thermals show them splitting into two teams, one's coming at Spragnola again, the other is trying to access the next level down. They've located a bomb disposal portal. It's a tight squeeze, but my money's on one real skinny guy or gal repelling down."

"I'll take it," Michael said, before sprinting towards a staircase going down.

"Ace, fire forward, get them to follow, then retreat." Nikita ordered as she watched Michael disappear.

"Your wish is my command," Ace replied, and let off a solid round of automatic weapon's fire.

"Where are they now, Jason?" Michael asked quietly as he jogged to the bomb portal on the second level.

"One heat signature coming your way, about four meters from your floor. Make that two. A second one is following the first."

Michael pulled out a fragment grenade, pulled the pin, without letting go of the handle, and waited for the enemy to arrive. First one body slithered through the tight opening in the wall, a rifle was pushed through, then a second body, larger than the first, followed with some difficulty. Michael waited patiently until both had their feet on solid ground, before letting go of the handle, counting silently to three and rounding the corner.

"Catch!" He told them and tossed the grenade in their direction. Wide-eyed, one of them actually caught it; it exploded almost immediately afterwards.

A piece of metal from the grenade ricocheted off the wall and sliced open Michael's left cheek. He idly brushed away the blood with the edge of his gloved hand and inquired of Jason, "Any more coming this way?"

"Sorry, but they're insistent. Two more coming down." Jason answered grimly.

There were bomb disposal portals on all floors of Section One. If they couldn't access one floor, they could always try another further down. Depending on how many of their operatives could fit through the openings, Michael decided he could be repeating this tactic all day. He didn't have the time or the patience for that. Making a mental note to have all bomb portal access doors mechanized and controlled by computer in the future, Michael ordered Jason into munitions.

"I want you to mask, and toss as many nerve gas grenades as you can into the bomb disposal tube," Michael ordered. "Follow that with a type-one incendiary. Got that?"

"Yeah. On my way." Jason pulled his earpiece out and ran towards Walter's munitions bay. He grabbed a small, canvas bag and tossed in the required ordnance, then grabbed a gas mask, and seated it tightly over his face. He trotted over to the nearest disposal port and started pulling pins and dropping in the gas grenades.

Mentally, Jason counted seven gas grenades. 'First we tenderize ya, then we cook ya,' he thought as he tossed the incendiary into the portal and closed it against the blast.

Michael waited until Jason reported that he had completed the mission. Nodding, Michael ordered Jason back to comm. For now, the command floor of Section was safe from anyone accessing that level through the bomb ports. The heat from the incendiary would force warm air, and the heavier nerve gas up through the tube. For the moment, that should keep the enemy at bay.

"Nikita! Status!" Michael called out.

"Waiting for the second wave." She answered.

"I'm on my way," Michael returned.

* * *

When the klaxon sounded Sakira pushed open the door to the operating theater and announced, "We've been breached. How much longer?"

The doctor glanced over his shoulder at the armed operative, his face moist with perspiration.

"I'll need another fifteen minutes. This can't be rushed."

Sakira nodded calmly. "Take your time."

Jasmine paced the floor, watching an overhead video screen for real-time footage of the firefight going on floors above them.

"Don't worry," Sakira said softly, noting her worried expression. "We'll have plenty of time to evacuate."

Jasmine nodded, but continued to pace nevertheless.

Minutes passed slowly as Sakira watched through the glass doors of the operating theater. Several times the building vibrated, indicating explosions, and then suddenly, the room went dark.

"They may have cut the main power source..." Sakira whispered. His hand reached out and gently caught Jasmine by the shoulder. "Standby. Emergency lighting will come on in a second."

Just as promised, the lighting did come back on, only slightly more dim than before. They heard one of the doctor's swear and Sakira pushed open the door to see what was wrong.

"I need more light, damn it!"

Sakira shouldered his rifle and reached for the flashlight on his belt.

"Jasmine-your light too." He ordered.

Jasmine pulled hers from her belt and held it aloft, aiming the beam towards where the doctor was working.

"Okay, I have located the detonator. I need the shield, please." The doctor said over his shoulder.

An assistant lifted a Plexiglas, bulletproof shield and held it between the doctor and his small patient.

"Here goes..." The doctor lifted the small grain of explosive out of the incision he'd made in Adam's neck. Just as he lifted it free, it exploded, with the sound and strength of a firecracker.

The doctor groaned and fell backwards, one hand clasping his other in pain. The long forceps he'd had in his hand and been spun across the room from the force of the explosion.

After initially jumping back, Jasmine leaned towards the table.

"Is he…"

"Check the patient!" The doctor ordered grimacing with pain as he looked at his burned and bloody fingers.

"He's okay." His assistant said with relief.

"Somebody's going to have to close for me." The doctor said, as Sakira helped him to his feet and led him over to a chair.

Jasmine smiled tenderly at the sleeping child, then met Sakira's gentle expression from across the room. He smiled back, and then dropped his eyes, as if he had just realized she'd noticed.

For a moment Jasmine stood there staring, feeling her cheeks growing hot with a blush. For the first time in her life, a man had made her heart pound with just a glance. She took a stumbling step backwards, then turned, half in awe, half in fear of discovery, and pushed through the doors of medlab.

Sakira stood by as an assistant finished the surgery started by the doctor, while another assistant bandaged the injured hand of the surgeon.

"Can he travel?" Sakira asked the surgeon, nodding towards Adam.

"Under normal circumstances, no. But since we have no choice, we'll have to take him on a litter and take it slow and easy."

"Have them get him ready. I have to send out my point man." Sakira said before leaving the operating theater.

"Sakira to Michael," Sakira spoke into his comm unit and he jogged towards the engineering hatchway.

"This is Michael."

"Surgery was successful. We are preparing to transport."

Michael froze in place; his eyes squeezed shut, and then opened them again.

There was a long pause, before Michael was able to return with a soft, "Thank you."

* * *

Jason gazed in horrified fascination at the data streaming across his computer screen. The Agency, whose location had been in Bern, Switzerland had been completely destroyed; NATO was on full alert; the United States had gone into DEFCON 3; and the EU had issued an international state of emergency. Moment by moment, the news got worse. Sections Two, Three, Five, and Seven had been totally wiped out, and Section Four had been severely damaged. Only Section One, in France and Section Six, in the United States had managed to survive the initial attack with its personnel intact.

"Nikita!"

"What is it, Jason?"

"Y-you're not gonna believe this..." Jason began, sitting down, because his legs were shaking so badly he could no longer stand.

"What is it?" She inquired more forcefully.

"Everyone's gone."

"What do you mean?"

"The Agency, all of the Sections, except us and Section Six."

"What? Say again!"

"We're on our own." Jason's whispered back.

Michael arrived at Nikita's side just as Jason delivered his fateful message. She turned to Michael in shock.

"What can we do?" She asked him, her face losing all its color.

Michael cupped her face in one hand.

"For us, nothing has changed. We have to continue to fight. Finish the profile, Nikita."

It took a moment for his words to filter through, but when they did, Nikita took a deep breath. "Spragnola-time to wag the dog. Fall back, on the double!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Ace replied.

Michael, whose hand still cupped her cheek, leaned close and kissed her ever so gently on the mouth.

"We can do this," he told her in a whisper.

Nikita nodded fearfully, and then smiled fatalistically.

"In case I forgot to tell you, I love you, Michael Samuelle."

He kissed her again, in lieu of the tender words that were caught in his throat. There was no time for more, as he took her hand and together they ran towards their collective fates.

* * *

"Ace! What's your status?" Nikita asked him via comm.

"We've held them for now. Are we ready for the play?"

"Yes. Get yourself and the others out of there."

"Michael?"

Michael nodded, typing instructions into a computer terminal embedded in the wall.

"Go!" Nikita ordered.

Spragnola gave his team quick hand signals to retreat, just as the enemy tossed grenades in his direction. Two of his team fell wounded.

"Get out of here!" Spragnola shouted to the others as he slung his rifle over his back and leaned over, picking up his wounded comrades, one under each arm. He managed to jog the length of the hall with them before the inner doors closed, protecting him from the charging enemy.

"Got two wounded," Spragnola breathlessly reported a moment later.

"Field dress and evac to comm." Nikita ordered as she watched the enemy troops searching for a way to get through their latest obstacle.

"Now, Michael," she said calmly and he responded by closing the outer door, trapping the enemy assault team in a confined space of a concrete lined passageway.

"How long will it take for the gas to work?" She asked.

"Not long. And it won't last long." Michael commented watching the enemy on his computer screen. "These two are the leaders," he said, noting which of the enemy operatives were giving orders to the rest. "We'll take them alive and kill the rest."

Nikita nodded. In cold blood. It couldn't be helped. Section was still dangerously outnumbered.

Michael called out to Jason.

"How many thermals outside the perimeter?"

"I count five."

"Patch me into Walter." Michael ordered.

"Yeah, Michael. What do you need?" Walter's voice asked over the comm.

"I want a five-man team sent into our area. Arm them with tranq darts-only I want trackers in the darts, not drugs. Target any enemy vehicles trying to leave the scene, and allow them to escape. Tell Quinn to paint them with the satellite and track them to their destinations. Copy?"

"Yeah, I copy."

"Jason." Michael continued.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to set off the alarms in the bank across the street from our cover facility at ground level. The more people with weapons we have in the area, the better off we are, even if it's the local police and Interpol."

"Got it. How about a few fire alarms?"

"Go ahead. The more confusion, the less likely they will attempt a follow up strike."

"Sakira?"

"Here."

"Status?" Michael asked as Nikita handed him a gasmask.

"We're at level six and so far, there's been no resistance."

"Keep me informed." Michael ordered before putting on the mask and following Nikita to the closed inner door.

"Jason, open the doors."

Jason tapped in instructions and in response, the inner metal doors slid open. Michael, Nikita, and two of Spragnola's remaining team darted inside, weapons raised.

"Those two," Michael told the two operatives. "Take them to containment."

As Nikita and Michael provided cover, the two operatives dragged away the unconscious enemy team leaders. Once they were safely away, Michael and Nikita systematically shot the remaining enemy.

"Jason, seal the doors." Nikita ordered as she and Michael re-entered Section.

"You okay?" Michael asked gently as made their way back to comm. Killing in cold blood was something Nikita had never been uncomfortable with, even when it was a necessity.

Nikita nodded at him, her expression pale, but blank. For a moment, Michael was startled to realize her expression was a schooled reflection of his own.

'The patented blank stare', Nikita had once phrased it. Seeing it on his beloved's face made Michael sad, but resigned. Nikita had learned her lessons well and it was on Michael's soul that he had been her teacher.

"Nikita!" It was Jason.

"Those five thermals are coming in-third wave. Looks like they have enough plastique to blow the outer door-probably the inner door too-damn it!"

"What is it?"

"They just took out my video link!"

* * *

Sakira stared at the electrical and mechanical maze ahead. There was not enough room to carry the litter with Adam through it.

"Can we take him off the litter?" Sakira asked one of the doctors.

"Looks like we don't have a choice." The doctor replied, and then rummaged through his medical bag for a neck brace.

"We need to keep his head and neck immobilized. We can't take a chance that we tear out those sutures. He could bleed to death in seconds if that happens."

The neck brace was obviously made for an adult, but after a few tries, gauze and tape helped to adapt it to Adam's small neck.

One of the medics offered to carry the little boy and cradled him against his shoulder.

"Let's go,' Sakira ordered, and the party continued its way through the mechanized, comm-line entangled bowels of Section One.

"How much farther?" Jasmine asked quietly, trailing directly behind Sakira.

"We have to go up five more levels to reach the surface exits. There are access tunnels and stairways up to each level about thirty meters from here. Once we reach them, we should get to the street level in a few minutes."

"Well, let's hope we don't meet anyone coming down-" Jasmine began, but the sound of a bullet ricocheting cut her off.

Sakira suddenly turned, curling his body in front of Jasmine and pinning her against a concrete support column, effectively shielding her from incoming fire. The other's struggled to hide behind anything they could find.

"Jason!"

"Yeah?"

"This is Jasmine-we've got hostiles on level six. Can you tell us how many?" She shouted against Sakira's shoulder as he pressed against her.

"Negative. We've got no thermal sensors down there. With all the heat ducting and steam lines, thermal signatures are simply washed out."

"Hold this!" Sakira said, handing Jasmine his pistol.

She took it out of curiosity. "What are you going to do?"

He didn't immediately answer, as he was busy peeling off his flack vest.

"Sakira?" Jasmine said insistently, feeling concerned over what he was doing.

He dropped the vest on the floor, took his weapon back, and briefly cupped Jasmine's face in his free hand.

"Stay here," he ordered softly, then curled his body around the concrete column and squeezed his slender body through the narrow maze of electrical conduit off towards their left.

Although Jasmine couldn't see the enemy, she could hear their steady advance. Her instincts made her want to fall back, but her training and something in the way that Sakira spoke, gave her the confidence to obey his instructions to stay put. She covered him with her weapon for as long as she could see him.

Sakira slipped silently through the shadows, weaving his body through the forests of metal piping, bundled comm wires and concrete support columns. He looked up, smiled faintly and nodded, having found what he had been seeking, and then knelt and waited for the enemy to come closer; it wasn't a long wait. He counted six men and allowed them to position themselves into his kill zone before taking aim at the insulated twelve-inch pipes running along the ceiling.

Firing twice, Sakira ruptured the steam lines over the heads of his advancing enemies then listened to their collective screams as they were scalded to death.

Jasmine listened in horror, and flinched, bringing her weapon to bear as Sakira's slender figure reappeared out of the gloom.

When she realized it was he, she let out a sigh of relief and pointed her weapon to the floor.

"Guess we'll have to go back," she commented when he reached her side.

Sakira shook his head, curled a lock of his shiny, jet-black hair behind one ear and addressed Jason.

"Turn off all the heating systems and boilers."

"Hang on a sec..." Jason was curious as to the reason but didn't hesitate to do as Sakira ordered.

"We'll have to stay here for a while for things to cool down, but once the boilers are off for a while, the steam will dissipate and we can continue on." Sakira replied to Jasmine before slipping his gaze to the others.

Jasmine gazed at Sakira, her heart nervously pounding as she covertly studied him. He had the most beautiful eyes, she thought suddenly, and hair like black silk that she longed to run her hands through. Even as she thought it, Jasmine was aghast over her feelings. She hated men, a little voice stubbornly reminded. They were all privileged assholes!

But then Sakira glanced at her. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, in the shyest smile she'd ever seen.

"It won't be long," he promised her gently.

'Long?' Jasmine looked at him as if he had spoken Greek, too fascinated by those green eyes of his to cling to a rational thought.

* * *

Nikita stared at Michael. The enemy would most certainly breach the inner doors and there was not much else they could do to stop them. She still had choices-stand and fight, and take a chance that there were no more enemy waiting to attack later, or destroy Section One and everyone still inside.

"Jason, transfer comm to the alternate site. Spragnola, take Jason and your team and catch up to Sakira." Nikita said quietly.

"Boss, are we folding?" Spragnola asked plaintively through the comm link.

Nikita smiled sadly. Spragnola didn't want to give it up.

"No, Ace" she replied, typing in the final detonation sequence, "Consider it upping the ante."

"Sakira, report." Nikita said, her finger hovering over the enter button.

"We've met token enemy attack, but received no casualties. We need approximately ten more minutes to reach the surface."

"All right. Continue. Spragnola, hustle it up."

Nikita switched off her comm and turned to Michael.

"I'm going to set the timer for fifteen. Five for Spragnola and Alpha to get into engineering and up a couple of floors, and ten more for Sakira."

"They'll be through long before that," Michael commented, looking over her shoulder at the likely avenue of enemy approach.

"I know. Go with Spragnola, Michael. There's nothing more we can do here. Adam's going to need you."

"No," Michael said with cold calmness, "Set it for five."

"I have to try to save the teams, Michael. You heard Sakira, he needs more time to get Adam out."

"Bluff." Michael replied. "You can stop it anytime you want. If the enemy thinks all the time they have is five minutes to self-destruct..."

"They'll evacuate their teams!" Nikita finished with a dawning smile of understanding.

"We need some survivors for Quinn's team to tag and follow home." Michael reminded.

Nikita made the time adjustment and hit enter. Immediately, the alert klaxons went off accompanied by a feminine voice warning there were only five minutes to self-destruct.

"Only problem is, with video down, how will we know it's working?" Nikita asked aloud.

Michael sat at Jason's terminal and tapped in commands.

"No video in that corridor, but audio is still functioning. And the cameras in van access are still working. They have to exit the same way they came in."

* * *

"Five minutes!" Jasmine shouted aloud in angry dismay at hearing the warning. "You told them we needed ten!"

"They will implode the bottom floors first." Sakira told her calmly. "If we hurry, we'll make it before this floor goes."

Jasmine looked over her shoulder at the faces of the others. None of them believed Sakira's optimistic pronouncement, but the fact was, they had no other choice but to continue on, and hope that he was right.

* * *

"What's to stop them from coming back in, once they realize we've bluffed them?" Nikita asked.

"Come, I'll show you."

Michael led her to the inner doors they had been defending and tapped in a command on a nearby panel. The doors opened obediently. Sitting there abandoned, was a large explosive charge.

Michael set aside his weapon and knelt to study it carefully.

"We have to take it as close as we can to van access." Michael instructed. "Hopefully when we set this off, they will think it's the self-destruct going off instead."

Together they carried the heavy explosive's package through the corridor until they made it to the inner door of van access.

"There is now two minutes, thirty seconds until self-destruct."

"Get back to comm. You have to stop the main countdown at 4:59:59, and detonate this package instead." Michael handed her the small radio controlled detonator and gingerly inserted a Section-made radio controlled blasting cap into the enemy's plastique.

With a look, Nikita told him to hurry, and to be careful.

He nodded at her silent plea and continued nimbly working.

Nikita sprinted towards comm, listening to the litany of seconds as they were counted down.

"Hurry, Michael," she called over their comm link upon her arrival in comm.

"On my way," he replied.

"20...19...18..."

Nikita held the detonator in one hand and held the index finger of her other hand over the computer keyboard to stop the self-destruct.

"Hurry, Michael," she murmured nervously, watching the visual countdown trail past like tickertape on an overhead monitor.

Michael could only estimate the blast radius of the explosives, but knew it would be quite powerful. He slipped inside an elevator, and watched the time as he made his way down to comm.

" 7...6...5..."

"Michael?" Nikita's voice had the edge of panic to it.

"I'm clear-do it." He replied.

* * *

" 7...6...5..."

They had made ground level. All that was left was to make it another 20 meters to freedom. But they had run out of time.

"Get against the walls and brace yourselves," Sakira ordered, pushing Jasmine into a corner and shielding her with his body. The others crowded together, shielding Adam as best as they could.

"4...3...2..."

Thinking this might be the last moment of her life, Jasmine lifted her arms, wrapped them tightly around Sakira's slender body and buried her tearful face against his shoulder. She was faintly surprised when his arms responded by encircling her as well.

"1."

Sakira's arms tightened around her as Jasmine shut her eyes against what was going to happen.

She opened them again with wide surprise when nothing much did. They could feel a slight explosive vibration beneath their feet, but nothing on the scale they had been expecting.

Brown eyes met green, both puzzled at the outcome, but Sakira recovered quickly.

"Let's go. We have to get back to Section." The others knew he meant the alternate site. Small explosion or not, the old Section One was no longer located at this place.

Reluctantly, Jasmine let go of him and picked up her weapon that she had dropped on the ground.

"What about Nikita, Michael and the others?" Jasmine asked Sakira as they started down the last leg of their journey.

"They did their job, so we can do ours." His tone suggested he didn't have much hope the others survived. But then he tempered his words with, "They're the best at what they do. If it was possible to survive, they did."

* * *

Mohamed Abu Nadir scanned the incoming data with a toothy-white smile spread across his swarthy countenance. The attacks were successful beyond anything he had hoped for. Only one Section still survived intact and that was in the hated United States. Still, what could it do, without its head? The infamous Agency was only a memory now.

He sat back in his chair and basked in the knowledge that he had accomplished what years and hundreds of men had failed to do. Not even Bin Laden had pulled off anything this comprehensive!

"Well? How'd we do? Feehan asked upon his arrival?

"By your smile, I can see that yours is a rhetorical question. Things went well in Paris?"

"There was some resistance, but once they realized they had no chance against us, they chose to self-destruct. I was hoping to catch Michael Samuelle alive, but I'm sure he suffered some before the end." Feehan tossed the small black radio detonator into Nadir's lap with a wicked grin.

"For the rest of the Sections, it was almost the same. We did gain access to two and seven. They all managed to destroy their data files, but we did get several high-ranking people and of course, weapons!' Nadir offered proudly.

"So now what?"

"Now we concentrate on our allies. We keep them armed and at war, and we clean up on the drug revenues."

"And I thought you were in this for religious reasons," Feehan said sarcastically.

"Is it my fault that Jihad is profitable? I'm killing infidels, am I not? I give to the poor. I pray five times a day. I do as Allah wills. Drugs are profitable, but we sell them to American children so that they will die, and our children can survive. I see nothing in this that is not the will of God."

"Well, okay, just as long as we kill Brits as well. I want them the hell out of Ireland! Protestant bastards!" Feehan ground out beneath his breath.

Nadir raised an ironic eyebrow as his fiery ally stormed out of the room.

"Christians! And they look down on Islam! At least we don't kill our own." Nadir muttered, returning to his computer.

* * *

"Michael?"

Nikita pulled herself off the floor where the explosion had knocked her and searched for her jacket hung over the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. Finding it, she patted the pockets in search of her flashlight and finding it, clicked it on. The tight beam of light added to the emergency lighting on the walls.

Nikita tapped instructions into the computer, looking in vain for a video camera that was still working outside of comm. All she got was dark screens.

"Michael? Michael, answer me!"

When all she got was silence, she took the flashlight and ran out of comm towards the hallway that led to the main elevators. Halfway down the hall she caught the acrid smell of smoke and stopped midway in an agony of indecision. Then her training kicked in, and she turned and ran back towards comm, and Walter's area for oxygen and protective masks.

Her second trip back was met with even more smoke. Wherever Michael was, it was logical to assume he was unable to reply to comm because he was hurt...or dead, a fearful voice in her head added.

The light from her flashlight barely made a dent in the smoke that surrounded her, but she navigated by memory, making it to the elevators, where she assumed Michael might be.

She arrived to find the doors closed tightly. Pounding on them, she called out to Michael once again, and then stood quietly to listen. When she heard nothing, she began to pry open the doors with the edge of the knife she carried in a leg-sheath.

After a moment's panicked struggle, the doors of the elevators slid open to faint golden light. Nikita looked up and saw flames several levels up, then down, to see the top of the elevator, trapped between floors.

She lay on her belly and yelled down the shaft.

"Michael! Can you hear me?"

There were three metallic thumps in a row, and Nikita was on her feet and running for the stairway leading down.

When she reached the floor below and opened the outer elevator doors, the hopelessness of the situation hit hard. The elevator hung at the top of the door with a visible opening of only eight inches, much too tiny for a man to squeeze through. Nikita reached up and slipped one hand inside. She felt Michael kiss her fingers.

"I'll get you out," she said desperately.

"You can't," he said with soft acceptance of his situation. "Don't try."

She could see part of his face as he lay on the floor of the elevator and peered out of the small opening.

"Isn't there an emergency door in the ceiling?" She asked.

"It was damaged after the explosion by falling debris from above. It won't budge." He explained calmly.

"I'll go try from the outside."

"No, Nikita. Things keep falling from above. It's not safe."

Nikita did a chin up on the floor of the elevator, trying to use her weight to pull the elevator down further, but it ignored her every attempt.

"There's got to be a way!" She argued, looking around desperately for an idea.

"Nikita, did Adam get out?"

"Yes, ...no, I mean, I don't know. I think so." Nikita went over to the controls of the elevator and pressed the button. Nothing happened, so she pounded on it with her fist.

"My love, you have to go." She heard him say softly.

"No! There's got to be a way, Michael. Think!"

Michael lay on his back in despair. She had to leave him there. He had to make her leave him. If only the cable holding the elevator would fail, then it would be over, and she would have no choice except to leave.

Then again...

* * *

Having changed into their civilian clothing, the remnant of Section One quietly slipped out onto the crowded streets of Paris.

Jasmine was startled, but secretly pleased when Sakira put an arm around her shoulders and whispered, "Just think of this as our first date."

Whether he meant it, or was just following profile, Jasmine wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a hint of something serious in those jade eyes of his.

Jasmine decided it wouldn't hurt to play along, after all, if it was just a profile, she wanted to do her part in making sure it was successful. None of them could forget for a moment that the enemy was still hunting them.

They found their respective vehicles parked along the street and checked them for outward signs of tampering. They found none.

So far, so good.

"You all know the routes. Make sure you aren't being followed." Sakira warned them. "It's a priority to get Michael's son safely back to Section. Is that understood?"

The others nodded before driving off.

"Come," Sakira said, taking Jasmine's hand and leading her to the awaiting car. He opened the door for her and handed her inside, the first time any man had given her that common courtesy.

"Now what's going to happen?" Jasmine asked as they drove down the highway.

"What do you mean?"

Jasmine didn't dare say "between us" so she inserted, "The Sections and the Agency are gone. What's going to happen to the rest of us?"

"That's something I can't answer. For the moment, the best any of us can hope for is to survive."

"It could mean we're free, couldn't it?" Jasmine asked with dawning hope in her dark eyes.

"Free? To go where? For all we know the enemy can find us anytime they choose. What kind of freedom would that be?" Sakira asked gently.

In response, Jasmine looked over her shoulder at the traffic behind them. She'd been in Section long enough to develop a healthy paranoia. Sakira was right. Where could they be safe, except in Section?

* * *

"Michael, no!" Nikita was appalled at his suggestion. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll be no worse off than I am now."

"You'd be dead! I'll call a team back. We can find another way!" She argued desperately.

"Nikita, if the fire suppression system hasn't put the fires out by now, it means it never will. Whatever they used to blow those doors was so powerful that eventually the heat it creates will set off the chambered explosives throughout Section."

"I thought C-4 could only be exploded with an electrical charge."

"C-4 doesn't usually trigger by being set on fire, but what's burning above us is mostly likely white phosphorus or a something that burns just as hot. Even C-4 will detonate at extremely high temperatures."

Nikita looked at him in anguish.

"My love, it's the only chance I have."

She nodded miserably and turned to leave.

Michael peered through the small opening watching her as long as he could see her, and then sat up against the wall of the elevator to wait.

In theory, his plan could work. Cutting the main elevator cable would cause it to free-fall, which in turn would cause the emergency braking system to kick in. With luck, it would stop at a floor and Michael would be able to get out safely. On the downside, the car could stop between floors again, and neither of them knew whether the emergency system had been damaged by debris falling from above or not. Either way, the sooner it was all over, the sooner Nikita could leave and rejoin her teams.

Nikita ran, her breath sounding raspy against the breathing mask. The smoke around her was growing denser all the time. She gave a passing thought to the two prisoners in containment. Hopefully, the smoke wouldn't kill them before she and Michael could evac them back to the alternate site. But if Michael died ... she dismissed any more thoughts of them as she made it back to Walter's area.

She had to shoot the locks off the weapons storage bins to search for what she needed-a small, shoulder-fired, wire-guided missile. It was a little overkill to sever the cable, and she prayed it wouldn't do too much damage to the elevator shaft, but it was the only option she had. Small arms fire wouldn't work, and climbing atop the elevator to set up a more precise explosive would take too much time.

To protect Michael as much as she could from the explosion, Nikita went up as many floors as she could, braving heavy smoke and spreading flames. When she had gone as far as the fire allowed, she forced open the elevator shaft doors and took aim at the cable.

Saying a prayer, she fired, and then ducked to one side to escape the back-blast.

The cable was cut cleanly and after the roar of the explosion, Nikita could hear the grinding of metal on metal, as the elevator car fell, and the emergency brakes struggled to slow it down.

Nikita belly-crawled over to the open shaft and stared down it. She could hear, but not see the elevator as it descended.

Trying to estimate what floor the elevator might stop on, Nikita ran down the stairs to meet it.

"Michael? Michael?" She called aloud as she trotted down the stairs. When he didn't answer, she realized his comm must be down. At least she hoped that was the reason.

Michael braced himself for the fall as best as he could, but for a second or two, he was nearly weightless, and the elevator's sudden stop, slammed him to the floor with some force. He rubbed his bruised shoulder, and then set to work prying open the elevator door.

If all had gone as planned, he'd be free, and he and Nikita could return to Section. If not, ... his hand briefly brushed against the weight of the 9mm holstered on his thigh.

Michael knew Nikita would never willingly leave his side while he was alive, and he didn't intend on allowing her to die while trying to save him. If he had to die, to make her leave, he would. And he knew she would leave-to take care of Adam, if for no other reason.

The elevator's inner doors opened in the darkness. Michael reached out with one hand and touched smooth metal. He reached down for his flashlight and concentrated the beam on the metal obstacle. The light revealed another set of doors and the fact that the car had come to rest between floors once again-this time however, four feet of the car rested against the outer doors of the elevator, more than enough room to crawl through.

Nikita cursed the fact that she and Michael couldn't communicate via comm. She ran down eight flights of stairs before stopping to check the elevators. In the dark, it was difficult to see the car in the shaft. For a moment she lost count of what level she was on, and worried that perhaps the car had fallen so far that even with the emergency brakes, it had hit bottom anyway.

Biting her lip with worry, she returned to the staircase and continued down. She'd gone a few feet before seeing the glow of a flashlight coming up. Pausing, she pulled her weapon from its holster and instinctively flattened her body against the wall.

"Michael?" She lifted the bottom of her mask with her free hand and whispered.

"Yes." Came an answer in a familiar voice.

Nikita's body sank against Michael's with relief. They held each other close for a brief moment, before turning together and ascending the stairs.

"Do you think we have time to get the prisoners?" Nikita asked.

Michael shook his head. "Not with the fire." He replied simply. He wasn't going to risk Nikita for information they could get elsewhere, especially since it might all be for naught anyway. With the Agency and most of the Sections destroyed, he wondered what would be the point?

Nikita didn't argue. "Hopefully Quinn will come through for us."

The two entered the engineering core and began their ascent in silence. They moved as one, each completely in tune with the other, not needing the spoken word to communicate.

It was, Nikita thought, as it should be, Michael at her side and she at his. Until this moment, she hadn't realized how much she had missed him. Half her soul had been missing and now she was whole again.

Suddenly over comm came Quinn's voice.

"Nikita? Are you there?"

"Yes, Kate. What's your status?"

"Things may not be as bad as we first thought. We've been getting messages through the shared matrix. Section Seven was destroyed, but only after they had left for their fallback location. Seems Akiwa took your advice about using the lull for evac training. His Section personnel are all accounted for. We've also been getting inquiries from operatives that were not in the Sections when they were attacked."

"How many?"

"Fourteen hundred so far. Most were on missions at the time. I told them to sit tight and contact the matrix again in thirty-six hours for further instructions."

"Any word from the Agency?"

"Yes. There were survivors, but none of them from the upper echelon. Word is, as far as chain of command goes, you're in charge Nikita. Any orders?"

Michael, who could not hear Quinn's end of the conversation, nevertheless understood from Nikita's expression, that something serious had happened and reached out to touch her face.

Nikita swallowed but held her composure over the news.

"Were you successful in painting any of the enemy teams?"

"Yes, a few. We're still tracking them."

"Good. Carry on. You're doing just fine, Kate. Michael and I will need transport in about an hour."

"I'll send Spragnola in police mode. The area is still crawling with local law enforcement. The Collective caused a lot of havoc at the northern entrance."

"Tell him to meet us at the east entrance, near the restaurant."

"Anything else?" Quinn asked.

"How's Adam?" Nikita asked, studying Michael's face.

"Recovering. Doctor's say he'll be up and playing by morning."

"Good, thanks Kate. Radio check in an hour."

"See you when you get here," Kate replied, and Nikita could have sworn there was a hint of actual friendliness in her voice.

"Adam?" Michael asked.

Nikita smiled. "Is fine and expected to be up and about in the morning."

He looked relieved, and then asked "What else?"

Nikita forwarded on the information that Kate had given her.

"There has to be someone left at command level," Nikita finished, as they continued to thread their way through the engineering core.

"And if there isn't?" Michael asked.

"Leading Section One is almost more than I can handle, Michael. What do I know about leading all of the Sections?" She said worriedly.

Michael leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"You have the skills to lead, Nikita. It's only a matter of scope."

"I never wanted this," she told him.

"I know."

"I can't do this alone!" The idea of running everything overwhelmed her.

"You're not alone." Michael replied taking her hand in his.

It was enough. Nikita nodded and they continued on in silence. Whatever happened, his eyes promised her they would face it together.