![](http://www.thesplitpersonality.net/graphics/spacer3.gif"){kind=spacer}
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.
Michael and Nikita were dancing, bodies brushing together as they moved to the latin rythmn that was playing. The night club was filled to overflowing, but to anyone watching they appeared to be a couple *hot* for each other. Nikita found herself unable to look away from Michael's face. Sensuality shimmered in his green gaze like a warm flame. He was too damn good at this *pretend* stuff. Not that she was the only woman who had noticed. Michael had attracted female attention from the moment they had entered the place. A part of Nikita was annoyed by it. She didn't even want to ask herself why.
"Do you see them yet?" Michael whispered in Nikita's ear. He was totally unaware of her line of thought. His own eyes were roving about the room, but it was hard to keep track of new faces. Still, he had memorized the faces of the men they were looking for.
According to the information that Section had, it would be three men with a redheaded woman. She was the girlfriend of one of them. All three were cops..dirty vice cops...out of Miami. That's why Michael and Nikita were at the club. The cops had done a hit on a drug dealer, who had info on a federal judge and a black mail tape of his dirty dealings with an FBI agent. Only the agent was incognito, and therefore unidentifiable. However, it was believed that one of the cops, named Hayes, knew the agent's identity. The FBI agent just happened to have a file on a microchip that revealed a secret, government finding. An X-FILES type of finding. Whoever had it could sell it to the highest, international, bidder and make a fortune several times over.
It was Michael and Nikita's job to hook up with the cops, to find out who the FBI agent was. They would do so by informing them that they had a blackmail tape of their dealings with the Judge and that they would hand it over to internal affairs if they weren't cut in on the deal to nab the microchip from the FBI agent. It was Michael's opinion that they weren't smart enough to get the chip on their own anyway, but they couldn't risk the cops getting lucky.
"I see them," Nikita suddenly whispered. She moved so that Michael could look. "By the bar. Redhead with big boobs and narly boyfriend who needs a bath."
"That would be Tara and Falco," Michael replied. He glanced at the duo then nodded. "Hayes and Reilly should be close by. Shall we mingle?" As he spoke, Michael stopped dancing and took Nikita's hand. They made their way to the bar and ordered drinks. While they wre being served, Hayes and Reilly appeared.
Nikita cuddled up close to Michael to ask, "Now?"
Michael shook his head. "Let them find a table, then we'll join them. You know the drill." Michael's eyes never left the group, but he was subtle about it. He paid for the drinks the bartender set down in front of them, then reached for his and took a sip. He saw Tara smiling at him.
So did Nikita and a part of her didn't like it. So she took matters into her own hands by pulling Michael around to face her,then she planted a hot kiss on his sensual mouth. For a moment Nikita was stunned by the *heat* that jolted through her, especially when Michael kissed her back. But then she remembered that they were on a mission, so she broke the kiss, a smile curving her lips as she reached out to wipe lipstick from Michael's mouth. Her breath caught when he grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, his silver-green eyes luminous as they stared into hers. Nikita knew that Michael was fighting fire with fire. Problem was...he was going to win.
Michael was aware of the danger of the game he was playing with Nikita. Of how easy it would be to follow through, so he dropped her hand and turned back to keep track of their marks. The foursome were moving to a back table. Obviously reserved. Section had learned that they were regulars at the club. Not particularly smart of them, but helpful to Michael and Nikita.
The operatives made their way across the room and reached the table. Without asking, they sat down, smiling at the group.
Falco glared at them. He was the biggest, and the dumbest, according to the Section profile on him. Pure machismo, and sexist to the extreme. Even while pissed, he was practically drooling at Nikita. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Falco demanded, pulling his eyes away from Nikita to challenge Michael.
Michael simply smiled. "I'm your best friend, or your worst enemy," he replied. He then focused his attention on the man beside him, Hayes. He was the leader. A good cop, and a smart man. But one filled with greed. He had a lust for the finer things in life, and for the challenge of doing what needed to be done to get the money that would buy the *good things* . "I have something that will interest you," Michael said. "Show him, Nikita."
She reached into her purse to pull out a mini recorder. She handed it to Hayes after pushing the play button. Hayes and his buddies listened for a moment, and the one called Reilly turned pale.
"Shit!" He hissed. "That's Judge Hawthorne!"
Hayes waved him to silence and locked eyes with Michael. They had just listened to the judge tell someone on the phone that he had made a video tape of Hayes and his *dirty* cop buddies during their latest Blackmail session with him. "Where did you get this?" Hayes asked.
Michael looked at NIkita. "My lovely girlfriend works as his personal assistant, temp status. She's always watching out for NEW oppurtunities for us."
"Uh huh.." Hayes replied. He studied Michael carefully. "So..she's a secretary. What are you?" Something about the younger man sent off warning bells in his head.
"I'm nobody," Michael replied. "Unless you piss me off. Then I'm someone you don't want to know."
Falco laughed at those words. "Yeah...you a real tough guy!" He spat. When he looked at Michael he saw a *pretty boy* with a big mouth and no balls. He had good taste in girlfriends though. The blond was a real looker. Made him hard just looking at her.
Hayes was inclined to take Michael at his word, but didn't let his thoughts show. "I'm sure you have a reason for showing us this...tape. Why don't we go someplace...private....and chat?" he suggested.
Nikita smirked. Hayes was playing right into their hands. She put snatched the tape player out of his hands, tucked it back in her purse, then stood up. "Good," she said. "Michael and I will follow you."
"I think it would be best if the two of you rode with us," Hayes replied. As he spoke he jabbed his 45 into Michael's ribs and was impressed when the other man didn't even blink.
"Works for me," Michael said softly, locking eyes with Nikita. He knew she understood his *silent* message. So he stood up and let Hayes walk him out of the club. He got into a car with Hayes and Falco, NIkita rode with Reilly and Tara.
Hayes brought Michael and Nikita to the *safe house* he and his buddies had set up. It was rented out under a fictious name so that it couldn't be traced back to any of them. Once inside, Hayes got straight down to business. "What do you want from us?" he challenged Michael.
Pacing in a semi circle, Michael replied, "We want in on the deal."
Reilly felt a sweat break out. "What deal?" he countered, stepping in Michael's way. When the other man locked eyes with him, Reilly felt a cold chill ripple through him. Yet Michael was smiling.
"My guess is that you intend to *hit* the FBI agent to get the micro chip. But that's not a smooth move so long as Judge Hawthorne has the blackmail tape."
Hayes admired Michael's reasoning. The man was dead on. "Your point being?" he prompted, knowing that there was more.
Michael stepped around Reilly to face Hayes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Falco eyeing Nikita and he knew that the beautiful blond was aware of it...and getting pissed. Poor Falco. But Michael refocused his attention on Hayes. "We can get you the video tape in exchange for being dealt in. The microchip is worth a fortune, and we just want a fair share. We'll even help you get it...if you're good."
"Nicely done, MIchael," Hayes acknowledged, with a grudging respect. "It's pretty much a deal we can't refuse."
"Pretty much," Michael confirmed, smiling.
Hayes had his gun in his hand. He tapped it against his leg as he paced the room. He didn't look at his partners, for the final decision would be up to him, and they all knew it. Hayes was the brains of the operation and no one challenged him. "Okay, Michael," he said after a long moment of silence. "You and Nikita are in....so long as you deliver the tape to us. Like right now." Hayes' eyes shimmered like black-ice.
Michael nodded. "Not a problem. Nikita and I will go and get it. Take us just a couple of hours." A tape had already been manufactured by Birkhoff, with Judge Hawthorne's cooperation. But Section didn't want it to look too easy to access. Michael and Nikita would play it as if they had to break in to get it.
"Nikita can get it," Hayes countered, his gun suddenly raised and trained on Michael. "You can stay here with us. Our...insurance policy...if you will."
Nikita shook her head, and the panic in her eyes was somewhat genuine. This wasn't part of the plan. "Ummm...Michael is much better equipped for getting the tape than I am," she protested.
Hayes smiled at her. "I know," he drawled. "But...if you fail....Michael is my back up. So...either way...I win." Hayes wasn't the brains of this little outfit for nothing.
Michael was somewhat impressed. Hayes' line of reasoning was sound. He looked at NIkita. "Go ahead," he told her. "Do what you've gotta do."
"Are you sure?" Nikita asked, questioning if Michael really wanted them to go this route. It meant that she would return to section and bide her time, while Michael stayed here...alone...with these dirty cops. And she didn't think they would pass the time playing poker and watching football.
"I'm sure," Michael replied. He went to Nikita and pulled her into a hug. "I might be able to get the name out of them and save us all some time," he whispered in her ear.
Nikita tightened her arms around Michael, not entirely for show. "Be careful," she told him. Then she pulled back just far enough to kiss him, knowing all the while that Falco's eyes were on them. When she returned, and the mission was over, Nikita fully intended to teach the jerk a lesson. His *dippy* girlfriend wouldn't have much use for him by the time Nikita was finished.
Reilly stepped forward, at Hayes' signal, to pull them apart. He walked Nikita to the door. You've got six hours," he told her. That was Hayes' idea. Reilly would have preferred to give her about two. He wanted this over with. Not that it would be. But Michael gave him the creeps, and Reilly couldn't figure out why. Which bothered him all the more.
The moment Nikita was gone, Hayes dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of Michael. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the bed," he invited.
Michael looked at the cuffs, then met Hayes' dark eyes. A soft smile curved his lips. "There are three of you, all armed, and only one of me...weaponless. Is that really neccessary?" he questioned.
"I think it is," Hayes countered. He wasn't fooled by Michael's relaxed demeanor and *pretty* face. Underneath the elegant clothing and refined attitude, Hayes sensed...darkness. He was somewhat intrigued by it, yet wise enough to be cautious. Kind of like being attracted to the power and allure of a wildcat. It was smart to chain the beast before approaching it. "On the bed," Hayes repeated.
"All right." Michael moved to the bed. He sat up against the head board, a pillow tucked behind him and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His eyes were expressionless as he watched Hayes snap one cuff around his left wrist and attach the free end to the center bar of the headboard. When the task was completed, Michael pulled on the cuff. He was securely bound. "Now what?" he asked.
Hayes smiled at him. "Now...we wait." He felt better now that Michael was cuffed and helpless.
Nikita returned to Section one to discover Operations and Madeline waiting for her in Madeline's office. They debriefed her, then Operations smiled. "Good," he said. "Michael might be able to save us some time. We'll give him the six hours that Hayes has allowed." Operations locked eyes with Nikita. "You stay put until then." He felt the heat of her gaze, but only smiled before turning and walking away.
Madeline was more sympathetic to Nikita's concern. "Michael knows what he's doing," she offered, as she moved to sit beside Nikita on the couch. "He'll be fine. He always is."
"Really?" Nikita shot back. "Let me ask you a question, Madeline. If Michael should die tonight....would you even care?"
"Does it matter?" Madeline countered, her expression giving nothing away. The question didn't really surprise her, not since it came from Nikita. The young woman had a way of blocking out what she didn't want to see. Nikita liked to things to be black and white. No shades of gray for her. That's why she had difficulty in adjusting to Section One's code of morality. They had to be Machiavellian in nature to get the job done. But Nikita didn't want to accept that the end DID justify the means. She took everything at face value. Never searching for the nuances behind the words and the actions. Especially when it came to Michael. Madeline wondered if Nikita would ever bother to look behind the mask that Michael was so careful to show to the world at large.
Nikita wasn't going to give in this time. She locked eyes with Madeline and declared, "Yes..it does matter. How do you feel about Michael? Do you care whether he lives or dies?"
Madeline decided to be honest. "I have very strong feelings for Michael," she allowed, but did not specify what those feelings might be. "I don't want him to die."
"Yet you send him out on suicide missions, over and over again," Nikita reminded the other woman.
"We're all here to do a job, Nikita," Madeline replied, a soft smile curving her lips. "We face life and death every day."
Nikita shook her head. "You and Operations stay here. You're safe. You're position is secure. Oh...once or twice you've ventured out. But you know what I find interesting? That on those occassions, MIchael has been there guarding over you both."
Madeline was intrigued by Nikita's thought process. "And why is that interesting?" she prompted.
"I don't know." Nikita was wise enough to be cautious about giving away too much around Madeline. "I guess I can't help but wonder why it is that Michael is so loyal to you, and to Section. After everything you've done to him."
"Such as?" Madeline questioned.
Nikita stood up and offered a smile. "I'm hungry," she announced. "See you later, Madeline." With that, Nikita left the office, for once feeling as if she had the upper hand.
Madeline watched her go. She was pleased. Little by little, Nikita was learning to play the game. Michael had done well.
Just over an hour had passed and Michael had remained silent. He was relaxed and at ease, and it freaked Falco out. He paced beside the bed but finally couldn't take it anymore. Glaring at Michael he demanded, "Aren't you scared?"
"Should I be?" Michael questioned, letting the look in his eyes show that he felt the other man was hardly a threat.
"Yeah," Falco shot back. "You should be. You do realize that if your girlfriend doesn't show, you're gonna die."
Michael shrugged, and his eyes glimmered. "Today is as good a day as any to die," he said softly.
Hayes had been watching them, and he was impressed. "You're one cool customer, I'll give you that," he told Michael. "Who are you?"
"No one in particular," Michael replied. Then he asked, "Could I have something to drink?"
"Beer?" Hayes offered.
Michael shook his head. "Something non alcoholic."
Tara had been sitting in the living room watching Michael, without being obvious. She loved his accent, and thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And, unlike Falco, he had class. Not that she was too familiar with it herself, but Tara recognized it in others. Like in Michael's girlfriend. The beautiful blond had lots of class. They made a gorgeous couple. Now she jumped to her feet when Michael spoke. "I'll get you a soda," she offered, ignoring the glare that Falco shot at her. She grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator then brought it over to Michael. She felt like melting into a puddle when he smiled at her.
"Thank you," Michael said, softly. He knew that Tara was captivated by him, and he allowed it. Michael had a plan.
"You're...welcome," Tara replied. A lock of his reddish-brown hair had fallen into his eyes and, without thinking, she reached out to smooth it back. A moment later Tara cried out as Falco's heavy hand smacked across her face. She trembled before his fury.
Falco was enraged, and he wasn't sure who he wanted to hurt more. Tara..or Michael. He settled for Tara, she was a familiar punching bag. Two more slaps then Falco heard a soft voice.
"You shouldn't do that," Michael interjected, his eyes locked on Falco's face. But his own was expressionless.
"SHUT UP!" Falco snarled.
MIchael smiled then. "Does it make you feel like a big man to hit her, when you know that she won't hit back?" He drawled the insult, knowing that it would have an impact similar to a physical slap in the face. Falco was so...simple.
Falco pushed Tara away from him to move towards the bed. He glared at Michael. "You'd better watch your mouth, pretty boy!" he shouted. "Or would you prefer it if I hit you?"
"Go for it," Michael replied, his eyes issuing a challenge. Then he added the motivator. "If...you dare."
"You dumb shit!" Falco's fist connected with Michael's face and he was surprised that the other man's head barely moved. Falco drew back his arm for another punch only to find himself *headlocked* between Michael's, rock-hard, thighs. But what scared him more was feeling his own gun pressed to his temple.
Michael squeezed his legs tighter, knowing that he was cutting off Falco's air supply. Then he heard the sound of two guns being chambered. He looked up to see Hayes and Reilly locked on to him. Michael didn't flinch. His eyes merely flickered at Falco. "He'll die before I do," he said calmly.
Hayes knew it was the truth, so he backed off a step. Not that he was particularly fond of Falco, overall. But they were partners.
Falco was terrified. "Don't..kill me.." he begged, through a tight throat. He whimpered when he felt Michael move, then suddenly found himself free and he fell to his knees.
Michael kicked Falco away from him, then jerked on the hand cuff and it snapped open. He slid off the bed, then snapped the safety back on the gun before holding it out to Hayes.
The other man stared at Michael in disbelief, but was wise enough to take the weapon. "Why?" he asked. There was no doubt in his mind that Michael couldn't have taken them all out with ease. There was more to the young man than what the eye could see. Hayes was more than a little intrigued.
"We need to trust each other," Michael said. "If we want to get paid, we need to work together." Even as he spoke, Michael was moving to Tara. He cupped her face between his hands and gently brushed one thumb over her bruised cheek. "Are you all right?" Michael asked her.
She trembled at his touch. Not out of fear, but desire. And she had never had a man touch her with such tenderness before. And he seemed, genuinely, concerned about her well being. "I'm okay," Tara whispered. She was used to the beatings.
Michael put his arm around Tara and drew her over to the corner of the couch. He sat down and drew her down beside him. He felt Hayes watching them, but didn't respond in either action, or words.
Falco picked himself up off the floor and glared at Michael and Tara. But when he made a move towards them, Reilly blocked his way. "Move!" Falco snarled.
Reilly held his ground. "You wanna die, stupid?" he shot back. More than ever, Michael gave him the creeps. The man was cold and deadly. No doubt about it.
"Fine!" Falco wanted revenge, but he would bide his time. Besides which, Tara wasn't nothing anyway. Let him have her. Maybe he'd go for Nikita when....IF...she returned. A part of him hoped she didn't. Then he would, gladly, put a bullet in Michael's head.
Nikita looked at Birkhoff. They were in the van, with three other operatives, listening in on the conversation that Michael having with Tara. Michael was still wearing his transmittor, so they could hear everything, clearly. There was three hours left to go before the deadline. Nikita was not happy. Michael was seducing Tara and it was grating on her nerves. Birkhoff wasn't helping. He was smirking at her. "Bite me!" Nikita hissed.
Birkhoff chuckled. "Love to," he shot back, then he waved one hand. "Listen."
Michael was whispering in Tara's ear. French phrases that made her giggle. Then he began nibbling at her neck. He felt her bury her fingers in his hair, then they were kissing. Michael knew that Falco was watching them. That didn't matter. He only hoped that Nikita was listening in. "Who is the agent?" Michael asked Tara, breathing the question against her lips.
She was so caught up in her desire for Michael that Tara answered him without thinking. "Greg Federow." She kissed Michael again, then gasped as she found herself pushed down onto the floor.
"GOT IT!" Birkhoff crowed. "Greg Federow," he repeated, linking in to Section one, where Operations and Madeline were listening.
Nikita looked at the other agents. "Let's go," she ordered, leading the way out of the van. But even as they ran to towards the house, they heard gunshots, and Nikita's blood ran cold. "Michael.." she whispered. Then she ran faster.
As they entered the house, Nikita felt a chill ripple up her back. There was a sudden, an eerie, silence. She had counted the gunshots. Six in all. The moment Nikita saw Michael her eyes darted over him. There was blood on him, but she guessed that it wasn't his, that it came from Tara, whom Michael was holding in his arms. There was a bullet wound in her neck and a heavy flow of blood. Nikita knew she was dead. Then her eyes checked the room. Falco was dead as well. Hayes had a bullet in his hand, and Reilly was unconscious on the floor. "Nice work, Michael," Nikita drawled. She didn't know how he had done it, but she wasn't surprised.
Michael locked eyes with Nikita for a moment, then looked down at Tara. He regretted her death. After pushing her to the floor, Michael had grabbed Reilly, forcing the other man to shoot Falco, then to put a bullet through Hayes' gun hand. Then Michael had knocked Reilly out. Only problem was, Falco hadn't died on impact. He had lived long enough to fire four, random, shots. One of which had claimed Tara's life, when she had stepped in front of Michael. It had brought a flashback of another woman who had given her life for him. Angie. Michael dissolved all images and related thoughts. "Did you get the name?" he asked Nikita.
"We got it," she replied, softly. "A team is already on their way to intercept."
"Good," Michael said softly. Then he carried Tara out of the house.
Heaving a sigh, Nikita followed him.
Nikita watched Michael as he talked with a new recruit. When the young man walked away, she went to Michael, a smile on her face. "Are you hungry?" she asked, hopefully.
Michael shook his head. "I have work to do, Nikita," he said softly. He knew what she was trying to do, and he didn't feel up to her company. It was too hard to keep himself under control around her. Especially when they were...alone.
"You're sorry she died," Nikita said, and they both knew she was referring to Tara.
"It couldn't be helped," Michael countered, turning to walk away.
Nikita stopped him with a hand on his arm. Rising on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss against his temple, then tucked a stray curl behind his ear. Smiling she said, "Tara died happy. We should be so lucky."
Michael stepped away from Nikita, her words confused him even though he could relate to them. It wasn't a *Nikita* thing to say. He wanted to continue this conversation. "Do you like chinese?" he asked, allowing a half-smile to curve his lips.
"Love it," NIkita replied, her eyes sparkling. "I asked you out first, so it's my treat. I know a great little place." As she spoke, Nikita linked her arm with Michael's and pulled him down the corridor.
"Very clever, Nikita," Michael whispered, as they headed toward the exit. He suddenly realized how well she had manipulated him.
Laughter bubbled out of Nikita. "Well...I had a good teacher," she replied, and was rewarded with a *genuine* smile from Michael. And in that moment, life was....good.
THE END
Send suggestions or comments to Shelly