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ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.
As Michael stepped out of the van and into the corridor of Section One, he rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept in over thirty-six hours, and at least another ten to twelve would pass before he could even think about heading home to bed. First he would have to debrief, then write up his report.
"Michael.." Walter called out the young operative's name, seeing weariness in the silver-green eyes.
"What is it?" Michael asked, more than a little surprised to find Walter waiting for him. Last time that happened, Nikita had become addicted to the phasing shell.
Walter swallowed hard then said, "Operations wants to see you in Madeline's office, ASAP."
Michael felt a cold chill ripple up his spine, but he betrayed no emotion. "What about?" he asked calmly, falling into his long stride.
"I don't know," Walter replied, wishing that he did. He almost had to run to keep up to the younger man. "I'm just the messenger boy."
"Thanks," Michael whispered, then he cut to the left and quickened his pace. He reached Madeline's office and glided through the double doors. Operations was pacing, Madeline was sitting behind her desk. Michael noted that both of them wore grim expressions. "Walter said you wanted to see me," he offered in greeting.
Madeline nodded as she watched Michael move to stand before her desk and assume a casual stance, hands clasped in front of him. He was still dressed in field gear, and there was a tear in the left sleeve and what looked like blood. "Are you all right?" she questioned, her eyes locking on his face.
Michael looked at Operations as he answered. "I'm fine. Is something wrong?"
"Have you spoken with Nikita?" Operations interjected. He stopped pacing, coming to a halt in front of Michael. Blue eyes blazed into green.
"I just got back from Istanbul," Michael replied. He knew that something was wrong. Very wrong. Something to do with Nikita.
Operations scowled. "Answer my question, Michael!" he hissed.
Michael shook his head. "No..I haven't heard from her. Why?"
"She's missing," Madeline replied, rising from her chair and moving around to the front of her desk. "There's something you need to know, Michael. Something we've been monitoring for a few weeks."
"What is it?" he asked, turning to face Madeline. The cold smile on her face worried Michael, but he didn't let it show.
Madeline picked up a folder and held it out to Michael. "Read this," she instructed. When he had accepted it, she glanced over at Operations, who had resumed pacing again. Madeline gave Michael a few minutes, then said, "We think Nikita is the killer."
Michael didn't respond for a moment. He was letting what he had just read sink in. Madeline had given him a file dating back seven weeks. SIx Section Operatives were dead. All of them were connected to Nikita in some way or another, and she had been the last one to see all seven alive. The operatives were spread around the globe, which is part of the reason why the evidence was so damaging. Nikita had been in those locations at same time. Michael swallowed hard, then said, "I was with her on five of those missions."
"We know," Madeline replied. She knew what Michael was doing, trying to shift the probability of guilt onto himself. "But the last one occurred while you were in Istanbul, Michael. We know it wasn't you."
"You have no reason to kill them," Operations interjected, moving once again to confront Michael. He tapped the file. "Accept the facts."
Michael locked eyes with the other man. "Nikita has no reason to kill them either," he stated in her defense.
Operations thin lips curved in a cold smile. "We have further evidence that she either disliked the operatives who are dead, or had some kind of falling out with them, be it a difference of opinion, or some other factor. Add to that the fact that Nikita hasn't really adjusted to being back in Section after her stint of freedom, I'd say she was unstable enough to kill." Operations was almost gleeful as he turned to Madeline and said, "Send a team out after Nikita."
"I'll find her," Michael was quick to offer. He looked at Madeline, knowing that she was the only one who could convince Operations to let him do so.
"You have twenty-four hours, Michael," Madeline allowed. She knew that he had the best chance of finding Nikita for them. Also the best chance of learning the truth, whatever it might be. But Madeline also wanted Michael to understand that the stakes were high. "If you can't find her, and if you don't bring her back here....we'll send out the bloodhounds," Madeline said softly. But cold-steel tinged her voice.
Michael knew by the look in Madeline's eyes that she believed Nikita was guilty. But he was grateful that she was giving him the chance to reach Nikita first. Michael didn't believe her guilt for one minute, and he would do whatever it took to prove Nikita's innocence. "I'll leave imediately," he replied, turning to head for the door.
Operations called him back. "Understand this, Michael," he drawled. "Nikita will be punished. You can't her this time. Do you understand me?"
"I understand," Michael whispered, his eyes glittering but otherwise betraying nothing of what he felt. And what he felt was a sudden hatred for the other man. But all he did was turn on his heel and glide from the room, Nikita's file still in his hand.
"He'll find her," Madeline stated, the moment the doors had closed behind Michael.
Operations nodded. "Of course he will. But then what? Will he will bring her back?"
Madeline was silent for a moment, contemplating the question. She had never truly been able to read Michael. He was an enigma to her as much as to himself. "If Nikita is innocent, Michael will bring her back," Madeline allowed.
"IF?" Operations countered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You read the evidence, Madeline. You know she's guilty."
"I know," Madeline conceded. "And that being the case, I don't think he will bring her back."
Operations was stunned into momentary silence. He glared at Madeline, then said, "If that's what you think, then why are we letting him go after her?"
Madeline sighed. "If Nikita is guilty, I believe that Michael will cancel her himself."
"Really?" Operations drawled, a sudden smile curving his lips. "Well...that works for me," he allowed, when Madeline nodded. "Then we'll finally have closure...and the old Michael back." That said, Operations strode from the room.
~*~
Michael was in his office. He had jumped into the shower and changed into street clothes. His usual black, of course. Pants, boots and turtleneck. He had just shrugged into his overcoat when his cell phone rang. Punching the button, Michael hissed, "Yes?"
"Michael.." said a familiar voice.
"Nikita.." Michael breathed her name.
She was silent for a moment, then, "I'm in trouble."
Michael pushed a damp curl out of his eyes. He didn't have time to fuss with it, smoothing it back behind his ears in his usual, severe, style. "Where are you?" he questioned.
"Will you help me?" Nikita countered, not avoiding his question.
"Of course," Michael answered. "I know what's wrong. Tell me where you are." He was careful not to repeat her name again, in case someone passed by.
Nikita sniffled back tears then said, "1700 Kensington Mills Drive. There's a side road at the end of the drive. Take a right. Come alone, Michael. Okay?"
He heard fear vibrating in Nikita's voice and it made his heart ache. "I'll be there soon," Michael promised. He would have said more, but there was a click then a buzz. Nikita had hung up. Tapping the button on his own phone, Michael shoved it into his pocket as he headed out of his office. He knew the location. It was about a two hours drive away. Michael breezed out of Section and slipped behind the wheel of his car. A moment later he was on the highway doing sixty-five.
~*~
Nikita hung her head as the phone was removed from her ear. She hated herself for betraying Michael. He was heading into a trap. But she'd had no choice. Enough Operatives had died, NIkita wouldn't add to the list. She had sold out Section One during the War with Red Cell, trading the lives of hundreds for Michael's. Nikita knew that he had been disturbed by her betrayal, even though it had been part of the plan. She wouldn't sell out again. If she did so, then an innocent would die. Michael could protect himself, Doreen couldn't. Nor could her ten year old daughter, Lacey. They had moved into Carla's old apartment. If Nikita didn't cooperate, they would die. They couldn't defend themselves. Not against a psychotic killer. Not against Karen. "What now?" Nikita whispered, as she lifted her head to glare at the other woman. A woman she had believed to be dead. Cancelled by Section over eight months ago.
Karen smiled, her eyes sparkling with delight. Life was wonderful. Nikita was bound to a chair, her face battered and bloodied, definitely not looking her best. And Michael was on his way. Her Michael. Crouching down beside the chair, Karen curled her fingers in Nikita's pale hair and jerked her head back so that their eyes met. "We wait," she whispered, then she laughed. And it was the sound of madness.
***********
Michael found the address Nikita had given him. Pulling up to the house, which was at the end of a private lane, Michael turned off the ignition, then popped the trunk. Stepping out of the car, he went to the back and pulled open a hidden compartment. Inside were three handguns, his own. He loaded a clip into the magnum, then shoved it into his waistband, at the small of his back. That done, Michael closed the trunk then headed towards the house.
By the time Michael had reached the front door, he was certain that he was walking into a trap. He reached of his gun, holding it in his left hand as he entered the foyer. The door hadn't been locked. Not a surprise. Whoever was running the show was extending Michael an invitation. For Nikita's sake, he would accept it.
It was rather unnerving, making his way through brightly lit rooms. The first floor was empty. Michael made his way up the stairs, silent as a shadow. On the second level he paused, listening intently, but hearing nothing. Didn't matter, he could feel that he was not alone. Attuned to movement or sound, Michael headed down the hallway to his left. The first two rooms were dark and empty, but he could see a light coming from the last room. Michael could sense Nikita's presence, but he also knew that she would not be alone. He placed his gun behind his back as he moved to stand in the doorway. What he saw gave him pause.
Karen was standing directly behind Nikita, crouched down so that the other woman's body acted as a shield. She held a gun pressed to Nikita's temple. Seeing Michael in the doorway, Karen smiled. "Come in," she invited. "Nikita and I have been waiting for you."
"Hello, Karen," Michael said softly. He was stunned to see her alive, but didn't let it show on his face. His eyes flickered over Nikita. She was bound to the chair, hand and foot, and a gag dug into her face. Michael wanted to flinch as he studied her bruised and bloodied face. Karen had not been kind to Nikita.
"I said come in, Michael," Karen repeated, her smile fading when he didn't obey. She shoved the gun hard into Nikita's temple. "Do as I say or she dies!" Karen ordered.
Michael took one step into the room. He could see madness glittering in Karen's eyes. "Why don't you let Nikita go," Michael whispered. It was his hope that he could trade himself for the beautiful blond.
Karen smiled again. "I'll let her go, Michael," she purred, her hungry gaze roving over him. "You look beautiful," Karen breathed. "I'd forgotten how beautiful."
"You look beautiful, Karen," Michael replied, but his eyes were on Nikita's face. She met his gaze, but only for a moment. Long enough for Michael to see pain and fear shimmering in her crystal-blue eyes. He would do whatever it took to free her.
"I've been looking forward to this moment for so long, Michael," Karen said, pleased by his compliment. She had noticed that he kept one hand behind his back. "Raise your hands," she ordered, pressing her gun into Nikita's flesh again so that Michael would know she meant business.
He knew better than to argue. Raising his hands, Michael held the magnum in a loose grip. He wouldn't risk hurting Nikita. "I won't try anything," he promised.
Karen laughed. "I know you won't," she whispered. "Pop out the clip, Michael, then set the gun on the floor and kick it over to me."
"Of course," Michael replied, doing exactly as she had bid. Once he had kicked the gun over to her he asked, "Now what?"
"Over to the bed," Karen commanded, her gun never leaving Nikita's temple. But her eyes followed Michael's progress to the brass bed in the corner of the room. When Michael reached it Karen ordered, "On the bed and put the handcuff on your right wrist."
Michael looked at Karen, then at Nikita, then did as he was told. Once the cuff was in place he pulled on it, letting Karen see that it was secure.
She was pleased. "The glass on the table, with the amber liquid...drink it," Karen instructed.
"What is it?" Michael asked, even as he reached for the glass. Karen still had her gun to Nikita's temple, so he would do whatever she wanted.
"A sedative," Karen replied. "You'll be out for a few hours. Long enough for phase two of my master plan."
Michael felt fear ripple through him. He sensed that phase two concerned Nikita and if he was unconscious, he couldn't help her. Yet, if he didn't drink the sedative, he had no doubt that Karen would kill Nikita. Feeling Karen's eyes burning into him, Michael downed the amber liquid in one swallow. He felt an immediate warmth spread through him and realized the the dosage was heavily concentrated. Karen was taking no chances. "Now what?" Michael queried, even as the glass slipped out of fingers that had suddenly gone numb.
Karen stepped away from Nikita now, moving over to the bed. She kept her distance until she was certain that Michael was no longer a threat. His eyes closed, long lashes dark against his cheeks, then she saw his breathing deepen. Only then did Karen pull a second pair of handcuffs out of her back pocket. She secured one end to the head board, the other around Michael's right wrist. Then she let her fingers tangle in his silky hair. "Sweet dreams, Michael," Karen whispered, bending to brush a kiss across his lips. Then she straightned and returned to Nikita's side. She pulled the gag out and said, "Guess your time is up, Nikita."
Moistening dry lips with the tip of her tongue, Nikita glanced over at Michael. "What are you going to do to him?" she asked, her voice hoarse. Nikita was afraid for Michael, more so than for herself.
"Michael and I belong together," Karen replied, her own eyes upon him as he slept. "You remember, Nikita. How he flirted with me at Section. Michael and I belong together."
"I see," Nikita replied, not bothering to contradict Karen. It had taken her a while to figure out that Michael had flirted with Karen at Section in order to make her jealous, so that she would doubt the other woman. Michael had known that Karen was slated for cancellation, but if Nikita had chosen for Karen to live then she, herself, would have been cancelled. "And what happens to me?" she questioned.
Karen laughed, one hand reaching out to capture Nikita's chin. "You have to die," she said soflty. "You betrayed me, Nikita. You sentence me to death. You have pay for that."
Nikita pulled her head free of Karen's grasp. "If I'm the one you want to punish, then why kill those other operatives? They never hurt you."
"Acceptable collateral," Karen replied, with a shrug of indifference. "I needed them."
"For what?" Nikita prompted. Karen had told her about the six, dead, operatives. Had explained that she had killed them to set Nikita up to take the fall. But since Karen intended to kill her in the end, Nikita didn't understand what the point of it all was. Why six people had needed to die.
Karen began walking a slow circle around Nikita. "Don't you see, Nikita.....I'm not going to kill you. You're going to kill yourself." A smile curved Karen's lips as she saw the stunned expression on Nikita's battered face. "That's right," she continued, pacing back in the other direction. "You see...you're going to kill...one more time. Then swallow a bullet. And you're going to do it in front of an audience."
Nikita had to swallow hard before she could speak. "In front of who?" she asked, but with a sense of foreboding.
"In front of Operations," Karen replied. She stopped pacing to kneel down in front of Nikita. "You're going to kill Madeline," Karen whispered.
"Why?" Nikita countered, feeling as if she were caught in a tidal wave and about to be sucked under. "Why Madeline?"
Karen sighed. "Because she didn't like me either," she hissed, her eyes flashing. "Madeline's dies, then you go to Operations and confess your sins. That done, you put a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger."
Nikita shook her head. "I won't do it. I won't kill Madeline."
"You don't have to. I'll take care of the details," Karen drawled. She let her fingertips trace the outline of Nikita's jaw. "Madeline will die in sixteen hours. You will die soon after."
"You can't make me do it," Nikita protested, but it was a weak objection. She knew she wasn't in any position to make demands.
Karen dug her fingers into Nikita's face, turning the other woman's head towards the bed. "You will do whatever I say," she whispered. "To save Michael."
Nikita didn't respond. She didn't have to. Karen was right. To save Michael, she would willingly die.
~*~
Madeline crossed the main floor to Birkhoff's station. She looked at the computer genius and asked, "Any word from Michael?"
Birkhoff shook his head. "Nothing."
"How much time does he have left?" Madeline queried, even though she already knew the answer.
"Sixteen hours," Birkhoff replied. He looked up from his monitor and watched as Madeline headed back to her office. She had never seen her looking so grim. Birkhoff didn't know the details of the mission Michael was on, only that it involved Nikita. But he had a bad feeling that he might not see either operative again. And that fact bothered him more than he was willing to admit.
************
Nikita watched Michael, willing him to open his eyes. Karen had left over six hours ago to make her...arrangements. Nikita didn't know how Michael could help them, she only knew that she was afraid. And that she needed him.
Michael felt consciousness returning slowly. It was as if he were moving through dark quicksand, trying to reach a light that was just out of reach. But he kept pushing through the darkness.
Pulling at her bonds, even though she knew it was useless, Nikita bit back a cry of frustration as she slumped back into the chair. But suddenly she stiffened as she saw movement on the bed. "Michael?" Nikita whispered his name. She felt relief wash over her when he opened his eyes. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"I'm...fine," Michael replied, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth, making speech difficult. He was certain that Karen would be expecting him to be out for several more hours, and most people would have been. MIchael was grateful for the tolerance he had built up, due to Section training. "Where's Karen?" he asked, after tracking the room with his eyes.
"She left to prepare for Madeline's murder," Nikita hissed. She was frustrated at the thought of another senseless death. And it bothered her, more than she cared to admit, that Madeline would be the next victim in Karen's sick game.
Michael was stunned by Nikita's words but, typically, didn't show. He simply asked, "When will she be back?" He needed to know how much time they had.
Nikita shrugged, as best as she was able, considering her bonds. "She didn't say when."
"Tell me what she did say," Michael entreatied, his voice soft yet tempered with steel. He could feel Nikita's fear, it washed over him like a wave on the beach. But he also knew that she was strong enough to handle whatever happened. He knew that better than she knew it herself.
"Karen said that she was going to arrange things so that it looks like I killed Madeline," Nikita replied. She watched Michael closed as he pulled on the handcuffs that restrained him. Strong he was, but Nikita knew he couldn't free himself. They were truly trapped and at Karen's mercy.
Michael felt Nikita's eyes on him. Knew what she was thinking. It didn't look good, but they would find a way out. "How is she going to kill Madeline?" he prompted. The more details he knew the better. The other six victims had been shot.
Nikita bit her lip. "Apparently Karen has something special planned," she acknowledged. "But she didn't tell me what. She did tell me that Madeline would die in sixteen hours. And that was about six hours ago."
"Then we have some time," Michael said softly. He had enough leeway to wrap his fingers around the brass bars of the head board. But it only took a few tugs to discover that they were solid. He couldn't break them to free himself.
"Time to do what?" Nikita snapped, her eyes flashing. "Come on, Michael. There's we can do. Madeline's going to die. Then I'm going to die." She saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes, and bit her lip. Nikita hadn't told him about that part of Karen's plan. Her..suicide.
Michael locked eyes with Nikita. Even from a distance, he could see that she was hiding something from him. "What is it?" he prompted, his voice whisper-soft.
Nikita looked away from him, unconsciously borrowing Michael's old trick of not looking someone in the eye when he had to lie to them, and didn't want to. When he had to lie to her. "Nothing," she replied. Then she shook her head. "We both know that Karen is going to kill me, Michael. No big secret."
"Nikita...tell me the truth," Michael entreatied. He wished that he could touch her. Could cup her face in his hands, smooth her pale hair, and tell her that it would be all right.
"I did tell you the truth," Nikita countered, stubbornly refusing to budge on this point. And, in her own mind, she had. Indirectly, her death would be at Karen's hands. "Why don't you tell me something, Michael," Nikita shot back, her eyes now locking on his face. "After all, we've got time to kill." It was an intentional pun.
Michael accepted that Nikita was hiding something from him. Who was he to push her to reveal her soul to him? So he was willing to concede to her wishes now, for he owed her that much. "What do you want me to tell you?" he asked.
Nikita was surprised that Michael was so willing. Since she would never have another chance to learn about him, she accepted his offer at face value. "Tell me about your son," Nikita requested. "What was his name?"
"Dominique," Michael replied, without any reaction. He felt a flicker of pain as a sudden memory washed over him. The image of his son's face. But Michael dissolved it to offer Nikita a further explanation. "Simone chose the name. She said that it would fit either a boy or a girl."
"It's a beautiful name," Nikita replied. She had a sudden vision of a beautiful, little boy with green eyes and curly, black hair. Something told her that Domninique had looked like his father. "How did you and Simone come together?" Nikita queried, after a heavy silence had fallen between them. Michael had responded to her comment, so she took the oppurtunity to ask another question. "I mean...Section doesn't allow relationships between operatives."
Michael closed his eyes and laid his head back against the brass bars. "Simone and I were together before Section," he replied. But he didn't want to go there. Not now. Not here.
Nikita was still watching Michael's face. She saw pain shadow his features and knew that her line of questioning was painful for him, so she backed off, falling into silence. Nikita guessed that another hour had passed when she decided that she had the right to one more question, since she was marked for death. "Michael?"
"Yes, Nikita.." Michael's eyes were still closed. He had been resting, gathering his strength for what he expected to come upon Karen's return. MIchael had an idea of how he might free them, but it was a slim chance. Still, it was the only chance they had. When Nikita didn't speak, Michael opened his eyes. Her gaze burned into him. "What is it?" he prompted.
"Do you love me?" Nikita blurted out. She had almost lost the courage to ask the question, but decided....what the hell. And no sense mincing words either. She was on borrowed time.
Michael caught his breath at the question. He was surprised that Nikita had asked it. Then again, maybe he wasn't surprised. Michael knew how she felt about him. Had manipulated those feelings in the past to keep Nikita alive. Michael held Nikita's gaze as he whispered, "I told you once, I don't know what love is anymore, Nikita. That was the truth."
She nodded. "I believe you," Nikita said softly, for she knew that Michael was an emotional cripple. Knew because during her six months of freedom she had done alot of soul searching. And, since her return to Section, Nikita had tried to see things from MIchael's point of view. "I just need to know how you feel about me," she prompted, unaware of the pain that shimmered in her eyes.
"I care," Michael whispered. "I shouldn't," he allowed, with a shake of his head. "But I do."
"I care about you too, Michael," Nikita replied. She knew that she loved him, but she also knew that he wasn't ready to hear it anymore than she was willing to say it.
Michael closed his eyes, shutting out Nikita's face for a moment. When he opened them again he was in machine mode, and he knew that she could see it. "Whatever happens, Nikita, I want you to trust me," he beseeched. Michael knew that she had no reason to do so, but he was hopeful. They could never have a future together, but Michael didn't want to lose whatever they did have.
Nikita sighed. "Believe it or not, Michael. I do trust you," she whispered. And those were the last words that passed between them for the next three hours.
~*~
Karen returned, a smile on her face. She was a little surprised to see Michael awake and alert, but pleased, none the less. Gliding over to the bed, she reached out to tangle her fingers in his soft curls. Then she turned to Nikita. "It's all arranged," she said, her eyes bright with satisfaction.
"What's arranged?" Michael prompted, drawing Karen's attention back onto himself. He needed details.
"I've arranged Madeline's demise," Karen replied, eagerly. She sat down on the side of the bed, her focus completely on Michael. "You see, Madeline will be Nikita's last victim. And she'll go out with a bang in about six hours."
Michael frowned. "What do you mean..a bang?" he questioned.
Karen let her fingertips glide over his face. He was so beautiful that it made her heart ache. "I've planted a bomb in her car. It'll go off the moment she turns the ignition."
"What makes you think she'll be in her car in six hours?" Nikita interjeted, curious in spite of herself.
"Because she thinks you want to meet her at eleven fifteen," Karen replied, turning to glare at Nikita. "I told her to come alone, if she doesn't, you won't show up. It will take her fifteen to get to the meeting place. I've timed everything perfectly," Karen bragged.
Michael laughed softly. "I'm very impressed," he said, once again gaining Karen's attention. "Then what happens?"
Karen explained to him what she had told Nikita earlier. That Nikita would go to operations, confess to the murders, then kill herself. She watched Michael carefully for a reaction and was pleased when he betrayed none. Karen smiled. It was as she had believed. Nikita loved Michael, but Michael cared nothing for the beautiful blond. Karen knew that was because he was in love with her. "I have a surprise," she whispered. Moving to the dresser in the corner, Karen removed a stilletto. Returning to the bed, she rolled up her left sleeve to reveal a heart-shaped scar, the size of a silver dollar in her inner forearm. "I did this for you," Karen said softly, her eyes locked on Michael's face. "A blood tattoo. Now it's time for you to have one, so that we will be marked for each other, for all eternity."
"You're sick!" Nikita hissed, as she watched Karen cut open the left sleeve of Michael's coat, then push up the sleeve of his turtleneck. Michael, she noted, displayed no reaction. Not even when the tip of the blade cut into his flesh.
"You're jealous, Nikita," Karen sing-songed, not looking over at the other woman, for she was intent on her work. Michael's skiin was warm beneath her fingers, and he never even flinched as she carved his flesh. "You love me...don't you, Michael?" Karen asked, once the heart was finsihed. She pressed a cloth over it to stop the blood flow.
Michael didn't hesitate. "I love you, Karen," he replied. He couldn't see Nikita's reaction, but he could almost feel her surprise. This was why he had asked her to trust him. For what he was about to do.
Karen laughed with delight, then leaned forward to claim a kiss. Michael responded eagerly, and she let her fingers tangle in his hair. When his tongue entered her mouth, Karen moaned with pleasure. Her hands now glided down his chest, smoothing over the hard mucsle hidden by his shirt.
"I want to touch you," MIchael whispered against Karen's lips. He let his tongue trace the outline of her mouth, hoping that she would react to what he was doing and not be able to think clearly.
"Touch me..." Karen repeated, as if she were in a daze. Then she realized what he meant. He wanted to make love to her, and she wanted that more than anything, only she hesitated. She didn't want to free him."
Michael rained kisses over Karen's face, gliding his lips over to her ear. "Just one hand," he beseeched. "I need to touch you." His voice was sensual, like warm velvet.
Karen nodded, pulling away from him to rise to her feet, her hand slipping into her pocket for the key. Smiling, her eyes burning with lust, Karen freed his left wrist. Then she moaned as Michael's hand drew her down so that he could knead her breasts. She leaned into him, wanting to kiss him again. As their lips touched Karen felt Michael's hand slide to her back, pulling her between his legs. She went willingly, laying on top of him. She kissed him then whimpered as his muscled legs suddenly locked around her waist. In that moment Karen felt a sense of panic. Too late. Michael's fingers were on her throat, crushing her windpipe. She wanted to scream but lacked the breath. There was a flash of pain, then darkness.
Nikita felt her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Karen slump over Michael. She knew the other woman was dead, and she was glad. Nikita glanced at Michael's face, but his expression was a blank mask. She watched him retrieve the cuff key and free his other wrist, then he was kneeling beside her. Karen's body he had pushed aside, as carelessly as he would a blanket.
"We don't have much time," Michael said, as he untied Nikita from the chair. He took her arm as she made to stand, knowing that she would be unsteady on her feet.
"We can call Section," Nikita suggested. She was grateful for Michael's support. "There must be a phone. What about your cell phone?"
Michael urged Nikita towards the door, accepting most of her weight as her numbed muscles protested her motion. "I left it in the car," he replied. Once in the hallway, he began searching for a phone. They reached the front door without finding any. No matter, he would call from the car.
Nikita was more steady by the time they reached the sedan. But she noticed something. "Tires are flat."
"Damn.."Michael muttered. He yanked open the door and popped the glove compartment. His hand closed over the phone but knew they were out of luck even before he looked. Karen had smashed it into pieces. Michael showed it to Nikita. "Wait here," he ordered, heading off towards the back of the house.
"Where are you going?" Nikita questioned, from where she was leaning against the car. But she didn't get an answer. Michael disappeared into the shadows, but he was back shortly, behind the wheel of a dark Buick. "Karen's car," Nikita whispered, as Michael pulled up beside her. She slid into the passenger seat and they roared off.
~*~
One hour later they were walking down the side of the road. The Buick had run out of gas. Nikita was almost back to her usual stride, ignoring the aches and pains of her beatings and captivity. She glanced over at Michael. "We've got less than five hours," Nikita reminded him. Five hours till Madeline blew up, for they both knew that the dark-haired woman would take the meet. And she would be on time.
"I know," Michael replied. He was keeping an eye out for vehicles, but not a single car had passed them in the past twenty minutes.
Falling silent again, they trudged along for another three and a half hours. Three cars had rushed by, ignoring them. One had nearly run them off the road and down the slope. Time was running out. Nikita was certain that Karen would have her revenge, when they heard the sound of another car approaching. Before she could react, Michael had run out into the middle of the road. He pulled out the gun he had found in Karen's car, then he took aim.
A pick up truck came around the bend and it's brake's squealed as the driver caught sight of the figure in the road. Two minutes later, Michael and Nikita were on their way back to Section. They had just over an hour left.
~*~
Madeline was walking towards her car. She was parked on a side street, and the roads were otherwise bare. The past few hours had been difficult for her, passing slowly, as she waited for the time of the meet to approach. Madeline was anxious to see Nikita. She wanted to understand. Reaching into her coat pocket, Madeline retrieved her keys. Because of the thickness of her gloves, the keyring slid out of her hand just as she stepped onto the street from the curb. As Madeline bent to retrieve them, she saw headlights approaching. As she stood up she realized that they were heading straight for her. With a cry, Madeline leaped back onto the curb. She stared in disbelief as brakes squealed and a red, pickup truck, came to a screeching halt next to her. She was further surprised when Nikita tumbled out of the cab.
"Don't move, Madeline!" Nikita shouted, as she ran towards the other woman. She reached her and said, "There's a bomb in your car." Then NIkita turned to watch as Michael headed the truck down the street a ways. He turned it around then punched the accelorator, heading straight for Madeline's parked car. Nikita held her breath as the pick up gained speed. "Come on, Michael.." she whispered beneath her breath, when impact was inevitable. Just as Nikita was certain it was too late, she saw his door open. A heartbeat later the truck slammed into the car and an explosion rent the night air.
~*~
Upon returning to Section One, Madeline sent Michael and Nikita to Medlab while she went in search of Operations. Two hours later the foursome converged in her office. Madeline was seated behind her desk with Operations standing beside her. Michael was in the chair across from her, resting his bruised ribs and mild concussion. Nikita was behind him, pacing.
"Tell me why?" Nikita demanded, her blues eyes flashing. "Why on earth did you let Karen live?" The question was put to both Operations and Madeline, but it was the dark-haired woman whom she glared at.
"You know that we always have reasons for what we do, Nikita," Madeline replied, she was unaffected by the other woman's fury.
Nikita stepped around Michael's chair and slammed her fists down on Madeline's desk. "What reasons?" she hissed. "You knew care was a psychopath. You told me you intended to cancel her all along. But you didn't. And six operatives died because you didn't." Nikita locked eyes with Madeline. "You almost died."
Operations decided to intervene. "What happened was regretable," he allowed. "But unavoidable." And that was all the explanation he intended to give. Not even Michael knew their reasons for keeping Karen alive. None of them mattered now anyway, since she was dead.
"Unbelievable!" Nikita shouted. She had plenty more to say, but a hand on her arm silenced her. It was Michael. Nikita turned to face him, eyes shimmering with anger.
"Let it go, Nikita,' Michael whispered, his own eyes pleading. He knew that her questions would never be answered, and to say more would just make things worse.
She glared at Michael for a moment, then she realized he was right. There was no point in banging her head against the wall. With a slight nod, Nikita turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Michael followed her, catching up to her halfway down the corridor. Reaching for her hand, he pulled Nikita to a stop. When she turned to face him he said, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Michael," Nikita replied. the anger that had glowed in her eyes faded. She used her free hand to brush across Michael's arm. "How's the...tattoo?" she asked, wondering how he felt about the fact that once the wound had healed, Michael would be left with a heart-shaped scar. A permanent reminder of Karen.
"It's gone," Michael replied, then he smiled at the surprised look on Nikita's face. "Laser surgery," he said, answering her question before she could ask it.
Nikita was pleased. She stepped forward and brushed a kiss across his lips. "Thank you, Michael," she said softly.
He tried not to betray his reaction to the kiss, but it wasn't easy. Michael swallowed hard then asked, " What for?"
"For telling me about Dominique," Nikita replied. "For being honest and for sharing you heart. I know that it was painful for you. I'm just glad that you trusted me."
"I've always trusted you, Nikita," Michael replied, even as he moved to step around her.
She grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?" Nikita asked. She had kind of been hoping they could go for a cup of coffee, or something.
Michael blinked at her, his expression neutral once more. "I have reports to type up," he replied. For him, it was business as usual.
"Shouldn't you go home and rest?" Nikita countered. That's what she intended to do. But she didn't want to do it alone.
"Goodnight, Nikita," Michael replied, a slight smile curving his lips. He could almost read her mind and knew that what she was thinking was dangerous....for him. So Michael turned on his heel and walked away.
Nikita stared after him, till he was out of sight. "Goodnight, Michael," she whispered. Then she headed off in the opposite direction, towards home..and coffee for one.
THE END
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