![](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.
One week had passed since the assignment involving Lisa. Since Michael had whispered..."I'm sorry"....then walked away. It was what he was good at. Walking away and leaving behind a devastated woman. This time the woman had been Lisa. Last time it had been Nikita. She sat in Michael's office now, waiting for him to arrive. She chomped on a piece of gum as she tried to sort our her emotions. They were so intense as to be blurred. She was angry with him for what he had done, but more so for how easily he had done it. And this time Nikita was determined to call him on it. Michael wasn't just going to walk away.
Before he entered the room, Michael knew that Nikita was there. He could even guess why. His face was expressionless as he glided in and moved to sit behind his desk. "What is it, Nikita?" Michael questioned, as he turned on his PC. He had a profile from Madeline to review before the next briefing.
Nikita glared at him. Michael had just offered her the chance to speak her mind, and she took it. She stood up and let him have it. All the pain and anger and disgust that had been festering deep inside her came pouring out. Nikita accused Michael of being heartless, cold and insensitive. Of having become the *perfect* operative for section. A damn machine. She argued that he had never had a heart and that his only use for emotions was to manipulate people. He could take on any guise in order to get the job done. And that's all it was about for him. A job. The last remark she made, and it was said as she leaned into his face, was that he enjoyed hurting people. That Michael loved to control them, then watch theier defenses crack, until they shatterered. Nikita then stood there, chest heaving, eyes flashing, as she waited for Michael to respond.
He did nothing for a long moment, then his eyes closed. But Michael couldn't blot out the sight of Nikita's face, nor the impact of her words. They echoed in his head and each one was like a slap in the face. Nikita didn't know it, but she had put a crack in his wall. His shield had dropped and her blows had reached their mark. Michael felt bruised, but he didn't let it show. When he opened his eyes, they were cold...like shards of green ice. He stood up so that they were face to face, then whispered, "You once said to me that you didn't know me at all, Nikita. You were right. If you honestly believe that I enjoyed hurting Lisa, or all the other *innocent's* that get caught in the crossfire of what we do...of what we *have* to do...," Michael paused here and shook his head. He was revealing too much, but a voice in his head bade him to continue. Suddenly it mattered to him that Nikita understood. So he locked eyes with her, and his own glimmered with shadows of pain. "I never wanted to hurt you, Nikita. But I do what has to be done, because there is no other choice. I guess I have truly failed you...because you don't know me at all, Nikita. And you never will." And, with that, Michael stepped around her and left the room.
Nikita was stunned, and she could only watch Michael's back as he walked away. But after the surprise faded, she felt hurt...and angry. And she wanted an explanation. Especially since she was almost positive that she had seen tears in Michael's eyes in the moment before he had turned away. So Nikita ran after him. She caught up with Michael in the hallway and grabbed his arm. "No walking away from me this time," Nikita hissed at him. "Talk to me, Michael. Please!"
"Why?" he asked, and he wasn't able able to meet Nikita's eyes. She was getting too close, and he was letting her. Michael knew it was a foolish thing to do. And a dangerous one....for them both.
"Why?" Nikita repeated, not understanding the question. She shook her head. "Michael...I want to be your friend. Is that so wrong?"
He swallowed back a sigh, even as his eyes lifted to meet her crystal-blue gaze. "Yes, Nikita," Michael whispered. "It is wrong." He turned away from her, but found her fingers grasping his wrist. When he turned back, blue-fire flashed in Nikita's eyes...cold-fire in his. "Let it go," he begged her.
She smiled, a soft curving of her sensual lips. "Not this time, Michael," she countered, determination written on her face. "You're coming home with me, and we're going to talk. Actually...you're going to talk. I'm going to listen." And with that, Nikita pulled him down the hallway.
Nikita sat curled up in a chair, watching Michael as he paced from the sofa to the terrace. She had finally gotten him to open up, and he was willing to answer her question about the manipulations and the lies that he had forged between them. And cleared up the confusion as to why he was kind and caring one moment, then cold and distant the next.
Like when he had rescued her from Julie, and helped her to cover up her mistake, even though he had warned her not to lie to him. Michael told her that he felt responsible for her. That he had failed her somehow, so how could he not protect her.
Then there was the seduction, right here in her apartment, when Michael had wanted to stop her from running off with Eric. Nikita had challenged Michael, asking him why he had wanted to keep her alive. He admitted to not wanting her...cancelled. Nikita had more questions for him. "What about Gray?" she shot at him.
Michael stopped pacing, his back to Nikita. He felt himself stiffen at the name. "What about him?" he countered, somewhat defensively. "You were jealous of him, weren't you?" Nikita challenged. She saw Michael flinch and felt a bit smug, but it didn't make her happy to hurt him.
"I have no right to be jealous, Nikita," Michael replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nikita left the chair, to go to him. He hadn't really answered her question, but for Michael, it was a true confession. It reminded her of the time after Simone had died. Michael had thanked Nikita for her help, then had proclaimed that he had no right to feel cheated, because he owed Section his life. "You have every right to be...or feel...anything you want, Michael," Nikita said now, standing before him so that she could gaze upon his beautiful face.
Michael lifted his eyes to Nikita's and he saw compassion in the clear, blue depths. "You're wrong," he told her, not wanting to burst her bubble, but he was desperate for Nikita to understand that Section was not a job, but a way of life. A life that was different from the world at large. Nikita was no longer in jail, but she was still a prisoner...and it was a life sentence. But Michael couldn't seem to be able to get her to understand that. "I don't have the freedom to chose what I want, Nikita. Neither one of us has that anymore. And we never will."
"I don't believe that, Michael," she countered, fiercely. Nikita's eyes flashed. "You loved Simone and you married her. You were happy."
"And she died. Twice." The memory was still painful, but Michael refused to run away from it. "You can't have a normal life in section, Nikita. You can't choose what you want. I don't want this...but I have no choice. Neither do you. We do what we have to do. And there is a reason for it. You just don't want to see it, because you don't like the reasons. But the end does justify the means. I wish you would accept that."
Nikita sighed, her eyes shading to dark blue. "I can't," she admitted. "I can't let go of...hope. It's the only thing that keeps me sane."
Michael could understand that. Once, it had only been the presence of Simone that had allowed him to hold on to his own sanity. "Nikita...about Lisa."
"What about her?" Nikita prompted, when Michael hesitated.
"I did what I had to do," he replied, turning away from the intensity of Nikita's gaze. "I made love to her, because it was part of the job. It's what I did...not what I felt." It was a hard admission to make, but Michael knew that the time had come to say the words. "We're like actors, Nikita. We play our parts...and each mission is like a different play. We don't always like the role, but we do our best to make it believable."
Nikita considered what he was saying, then replied, "An academy award winning perfomance?"
MIchael nodded. "Yes." "Can I ask you something?" Nikita queried.
"All right," Michael allowed, feeling that he owed her that much. He turned back to face her.
Nikita suddenly found it difficult to ask, for it betrayed so much of her own feelings. But she swallowed hard then spit it out. "When you were with Lisa...you were so different. I saw you laugh, Michael. I saw a light in your eyes. Was that the man you used to be? The man that Simone fell in love with?"
Michael caught his breath, startled by Nikita's observations. He hadn't realized that she had been paying such close attention. "I can't answer that, Nikita," he told her.
"Why not?" she challenged. Nikita put one hand on Michael's arm and pulled him around to face her when he tried to turn away again. "Answer me, Michael."
"I don't remember who I used to be," he said, at last. And as he made the confession, Michael felt tears fill his eyes. When he tried to blink them back, they spilled down his face and he had to swallow back a whimper as the damn that guarded his heart...shattered.
Nikita felt Michael tremble and when she looked into his eyes, she saw the tears. Then she saw the shadows darken, and then the quick-silver reflection of her own image, and Nikita knew that she had reached him. Had found the soul of the man, and that his heart was full of pain. She whispered his name as she pulled him into her embrace. "Michael...."
He wrapped his own arms around her and wept. Something he hadn't done since he was sixteen. And with the tears came the cleansing of his heart and soul. There was still darkness there...for Michael would't never forgive himself for his...transgressions. But there was a healing of old wounds. And there was a flicker of hope. And maybe that was all he needed...to start living again. That....and Nikita.
THE END
Send suggestions or comments to Shelly