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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.
Madeline watched as Operations paced, back and forth, in front of her desk. He had been doing so for the past five minutes and it was starting to irritate her. But she didn't let it show, neither in her expression, nor her voice. "What do want me to say?" she beseeched. "I gave you my report. I stand by what I've told you."
Operations heaved a sigh of frustration. He stopped pacing and turned to face Madeline, his eyes glittering like chips of ice. "I want you to tell me that you can fix Michael!" he hissed. "I want him back, Madeline."
"So do I," she replied, softly, her own eyes turning dark with regret. "But from the moment we forced him to cancel Nikita, Michael has lost focus. He can't do the job. We don't have many options left."
"I've put him in abeyance," Operations countered, once again resuming his pacing. "He knows it."
Madeline nodded. "He does." She reasoned that it would be foolish of them to think he wouldn't. They didn't allow Michael out in the field, or running teams, even from Section. The young man was no fool. He new he was on borrowed time. What bothered Madeline was the fact that Michael didn't care. She knew that he would welcome cancellation. "It's a no win situation," Madeline commented, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes to shut out the sight of Operations' restless pacing. "If we send Michael out on another mission, I believe he won't come back."
Operations nodded. "So he has a death wish. What about psyche reevaluation. You haven't tried that yet."
"I think that it would be a temporary measure at best," Madeline replied, being blunt and honest. "Michael is a player. He would say and do all the right things, simply biding his time. Bottom line is, we've lost him."
"Dammit!" Operations slammed one fist down on the top of Madeline's desk. "He was bad after he lost Simone, and his son, but once the grief passed, he became stronger. Better, and more efficient. Why can't he do that now." Shaking his head, Operations slumped into a nearby chair. "Michael was married to Simone. They were in love, they had a real relationship. Michael and Nikita...they didn't love each other," he stated, flatly.
Madeline swallowed a sigh. "You don't know that. Nikita reached something in Michael that he believed was long dead. She touched his soul."
Fingertips rubbing his temples, Operations laughed softly, but it was a cold, humorless, sound. His eyes locked on Madeline's face. "I want the truth," he demanded. "Will Michael get over this?"
"I don't think so," Madeline replied. She watched as Operations winced. "We have to be realistic. Michael can't do the job. By rights...he should be --"
"-- Cancelled!" Operations interjected, his pale eyes flashing. "I know." But he didn't want to do that. For more reasons than he cared to contemplate right now.
Madeline could sympathize. She didn't want to lose Michael either. "So...what do you want to do?" she queried. But, before Operations could respond, Madeline was beeped. She pressed a button and said, "What is it?"
Birkhoff answered her. "I have something that you and Operations need to see. ASAP," he told them. And his agitation was clearly heard in his voice.
"We're on our way," Madeline replied. She glanced over at Operations as she rose to her feet. Then he took her arm and they headed for the door.
Birkhoff played the digital message for them on his computer. It was a somewhat distorted image of a young, blond woman. She was sitting in a chair, her arms bound behind her. Her clothes were dirty, her hair matted, and blood ran down one side of her face. A man punched her in the gut and she cried out then gagged. Her breath became labored and wheezing.
"What is your name?" the man who had hit her, asked.
There was a long moment of silence, then a whisper. "Nikita..."
The transmission ended and Birkhoff swivelled around in his chair. "That's it, except for the encrypted message, which I've downloaded for you." Birkhoff held out a mini-CD to Operations.
The gray-haired man took it, then looked at Madeline. "In my office," he commanded, then he turned and strode off.
Madeline was about to follow, when she felt a light touch on her arm. "What is it, Birkhoff?" she asked softly.
"Do you...Is Nikita alive?" he questioned, his eyes shining with a hopefullness that he couldn't hide.
"I don't know," Madeline replied, although a part of her hoped it was true. She smiled then stepped down from the platform. Operations was waiting for her.
The encrypted message was from the person who had sent them the transmission. He was an old acquaintance of Operations and had owed him a favor. The tape was two days old.
"Nikita is alive," Madeline commented, needing to hear the words out loud.
"So it would seem," Operations allowed. He was pacing again and his eyes shimmered with white-fire. "The people who have her want to see Section destroyed," he declared, stating the obvious. His *friend* was a member of the terrorist faction, but had felt the need to repay his debt. Operations considered it to be paid-in-full.
Madeline was silent for a moment, considering her words. "This may be what we've been hoping for," she countered, then she waited for a reaction.
Operations glared at Madeline as if she had suddenly developed a second head. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.
"Michael." The moment Madeline said the name, she saw the fire dim in Operations' eyes. She smiled, then explained. "I think we can get him back. Send him to rescue Nikita." Madeline knew that Michael would be the only one who could do the job. He would not fail Nikita in the way that she knew he believed he had failed Simone, and his son.
"Rescue Nikita.." Operations repeated, shaking his head. "I want her cancelled, not rescued. If she talks, Section will be compromised."
Madeline knew what was at risk, but she felt it neccessary to remind Operations of their earlier conversation. "If you want Michael back, then you send him after Nikita. If you cancel her, then cancel him as well. It's your choice."
Operations did not like his options. He liked to make his own odds, but knew that sometimes it was better to go for the longshot. Turning to meet Madeline's dark gaze, he nodded. "Contact Michael and fill him in. He leaves in five hours."
"Done," Madeline replied. She went to Operations and let one hand squeeze his shoulder, briefly. "You made the right choice," she assured him.
"I hope so," he replied, wanting to believe her but unable to push away his doubts. Still, Operations had made his decision, and he would stand by it. Whatever the outcome. He nodded, then watched as Madeline glided out of the room.
Michael stared at the transmission, his eyes glittering as he watched the man hit the woman, then the woman whisper her name. He felt Madeline's eyes upon him and it took a concentrated effort of will not to let his true feelings show. Michael's eyes were shuttered, his expression masked, as he turned to face the dark-haired woman. "Nikita is still alive," he whispered.
Madeline realized that he was asking a question, rather than making a statement. "She is," Madeline confirmed. She could see the tension in Michael's body ease up somewhat at her words. "We know her location and who the people are holding her. They're connected to the group who kidnapped Stanley Shays."
"Tyler's people," Michael replied.
"Yes." Madeline moved out from behind her desk to confront Michael. "We want you to rescue Nikita. Bring her back here." Madeline saw a flicker of reaction in Michael's eyes, but it was quickly extinguished, so she was unable to identify it. "We can't risk an all out assault. So you'll go alone. In and out. Rescue Nikita and destroy the compound." Madeline paused and offered a smile. "Think you can do that?"
Michael met, and held, her cool gaze. "I can do that," he whispered. "When do I leave?"
Madeline held out his tactical disk. "In three hours," she replied. "See Walter, he has what you'll need."
"Fine," Michael replied. "Is that all?" He needed to get out from under Madeline's piercing gaze. It seemed to burn into him, as if she were seeking the darkness of his soul. But he would not let her go there.
"That's all," Madeline replied. Her smile faded as she watched Michael stride from the room. He should have been happy that Nikita was still alive, but a part of Madeline sensed that he filled with sorrow, and regret.
As Michael walked down the corridor towards Walter's station, the image of Nikita, battered and bloody, flashed before him. A lone tear rolled down his face, and as Michael wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
************
The first thing Michael did after leaving Madeline was go to his office and study the tactical. Then he changed into field gear: black leggings, heavy socks and boots. A sleeveless, black t-shirt with a formfitting, zippered, jacket over it, then his kevlar vest. After that he went to see Walter.
The old man was practically bouncing off the walls as he handed over the guns and various other weaponry and devices that Michal would need. "It's true....Nikita's alive?" Walter questioned, his eyes locked on Michael's face. The young man's expression was blank, as were his eyes. Walter knew that he was in *machine mode*, but he also knew that Michael had withdrawn.
"She's alive," Michael confirmed, as he slid a second hand gun into a holster strapped to his left thigh. But that was all he offered.
"How?" Walter beseeched, his eyes shimmering and reflecting the million questions that he had. When the young operative didn't answer, he reached out and grab the strong arm. "Michael...we watched Nikita die in that building. How can she be alive?" Not that he wasn't thrilled by the news, Walter was simply confused.
Michael locked eyes with the other man for a moment, then he stepped back, freeing his arm. "Doesn't matter how," he whispered. Then he checked his equipment. "Is this everything?"
Walter nodded. "You're fully loaded, Michael. In and out, it's what you do best," Walter commented, as he moved out from behind his station to confront Michael. "You're going to bring Nikita home." It was more a statement, than a question, but Walter's eyes were locked on Michael's face. Waiting for a reaction, but the silver-green eyes remained shuttered.
"Goodbye, Walter," Michael whispered. He didn't look at the other man as he turned and walked away.
A cold chill rippled up Walter's spine as he watched Michael go. His *goodbye* had seemed so final, and a part of Walter wondered if the young operative would be coming back. As much as Walter wanted Nikita to return, he didn't want to lose Michael in the process. Shaking his head, Walter decided that he was just an old fool and he returned to his work.
With a moan of pleasure, Nikita let her hands glide over Michael's bare chest. She had the muscles memorized, so her eyes were closed, then her fingers glided over his back and down lower still, to cup hard buttocks. She sighed as his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue sliipping into her mouth to taste her. Then she felt him lift her into his strong arms and lay her on the bed. As he filled her heat with his hardness, Nikita whispered his name. "Michael..." But a moment later she screamed as pain rippled through her and she felt blood flow down her face. It had only been a dream.
Nikita sat in the room, alone. Her tormentors had given her a reprieve while they went off to eat and drink and no doubt plan more ways to torture her. She didn't think she could bear it much longer. Already she had confessed too much. Her name alone had meant she was weak. Not that they didn't already know that. They had grabbed her because they knew she was a Section operative. What they wanted from her was Section's location. Nikita was prepared to bite off her tongue before she gave them that. She had betrayed Section once before, during the War with Red Cell. It didn't matter that it had been part of Section's plan for her to do so.
A part of Nikita questioned why she was being so loyal to Section. But she knew the answer. Michael. In the six months that she had been free, he had never left her thoughts. Even without the drugs and pain of torture, her dreams were filled with him. Of them together. Fantasies of what she would have wished for them. Remembering Michael's words in her apartment...'I wish things could be different'...Nikita wondered if he shared her dreams. Did he even dream, or was he tormented only by nightmares, as Red Cell had suggested?
It didn't matter, Nikita reminded herself. She was going to die soon. She would never see Michael again. So she clung to the memories of him that she had stored away, as hot tears rolled down her face.
Michael was in the east wing of the compound. He had already made his way through the west and south ends, planting explosives. Thanks to the schematics given to Operations by his friend, Michael knew where the guards were located, access areas for entry and exit, he also knew exactly where Nikita was being held. He was on his way to her now. As he crept along the catwalk, with the silent stealth of a shadow, a part of Michael hoped the Operations' informer would escape the explosion. Once Michael set the sequence in motion, there would be only two minutes of escape time. He had judged that to be sufficient, given Nikita's location and the nearest exit.
So now he climbed down an attached, iron, ladder and snuck up on the first guard, efficiently snapping his neck. Michael hid the body then continued on. One minute later, another guard was dead. Michael hid this one as well, then moved forward. He planted two more explosives. The last guard was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper. Michael tossed a metal bar to his left. The guard leaped out of his chair, gun in hand, to investigate. A moment later he was dead. Michael took his keys and opened the door to the room.
Nikita heard the door open and lifted her head. She was prepared for more torture. But the man in the doorway wasn't the enemy. Her lips moved. "Michael..." she breathed.
"Shh..." Michael whispered as he moved towards Nikita. A moment later she was free, and in his arms. Michael allowed the embrace, but only for a moment. Then he cupped her face in his hands and said, "We have to go."
"Right," Nikita replied, but even as she moved to take a step, her knees buckled and she fell into darkness.
Michael bit back a curse as he slung Nikita over one shoulder. Then he reached for the trigger in his vest pocket and pressed the red button. The countdown sequence had begun. Two minutes before the blast, so Michael headed for the nearest exit.
As he had expected, the exit pathway was not clear. Michael had his gun ready and he took out two guards, but he couldn't nail the third in time. A bullet ripped into Michael's left thigh and he stumbled, falling to his knees, Nikita sliding off his shoulder. Michael left her where she dropped and fired on the third guard. His eyes tracked the area. For the moment, it was clear. But he knew it wouldn't last. He glanced down at the blood pouring out of his thigh and grimaced. There was no time to worry about it now. Michael gritted his teeth and reached for Nikita. A moment later he was on the move again. But the exit was blocked. Seconds ticked by as Michael checked his gun. He was out of ammo. Rather than change the clip, Michael reached for the other gun, on his thigh. It was covered with his blood but that didn't matter. Michael removed the safety, racked a bullet into the chamber and fired.
The exit way was now clear, but Michael knew he had only seconds to spare. Ignoring the burning pain in his leg, he tightened his grip around Nikita and ran. He cleared the building and was maybe twenty feet from it when the first explosion went off. It was followed by another and another, in a sequence. Michael kept running but the percussion soon knocked him off his feet. As he fell he heaved Nikita before him so that he wouldn't land on her. A heartbeat later, Michael hit the ground hard, and darkness claimed him.
A soft voice calling his name, brought Michael back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to see Nikita kneeling beside him, one hand stroking his hair. Michael struggled to sit up. "You're okay?" he asked, allowing her to help him to his feet. His wounded leg trembled, but held him. The pain was easy enough for Michael to ignore. "We have to go," he told Nikita, desperation shining from his eyes.
"Chopper's coming," she said, turning to point to the lights in the sky that was rapidly moving towards them. Nikita bit her lip and said, softly, "I knew it wouldn't last." She meant her freedom.
Michael knew it and his heart grieved for her. He hadn't known about the chopper, but he should have expected it. Michael's intention had been to rescue Nikita from the terrorists, then set her free again. His story to Section being that he couldn't get her out, so she had died in the explosion. He should have known that Section wouldn't trust him with that scenario again. So plans would have to change. Michael saw his gun lying on the ground, nearby. He reached for it then moved to step behind Nikita. Raising the gun, he whispered her name. "Nikita.."
She turned and stared down the barrell of a gun. In that moment, Nikita understood what Michael was doing. What he was offering her. Freedom...the only way left for her. She understood something else, as well. Once he had cancelled her, he would cancel himself. Tears blurred Nikita's vision, and she blinked them back so that she could see Michael's face. The pain that shimmered in his silver-green eyes made her heart ache. "Michael.." she said softly, taking a step closer.
"It's the only way," he replied, his voice trembling. Michael absorbed the beauty of Nikita's face, not seeing the blood and the brusises. He saw only the innocence that would be tarnished, the light of hope that would be extinguished forever if she were to return. But his hand, holding the gun, shook. Michael locked eyes with Nikita. "It's your choice," he told her. Then he glanced up at the sky. She had to decide, quickly.
"I want to live," Nikita whispered, and she saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes. What Michael didn't understand was that she wanted him to live. He had sacrificed so much to give her freedom, now she would make whatever sacrifice was neccessary to give him hope. Nikita knew that the words he had spoken to her during the War had been true. Michael had said, '...the only part of me that's not dead, is you...' Nikita wanted a chance for them. Section would not make it easy for them, but she didn't care. She reached out and took the gun from Michael's hand, then she smiled.
He shook his head. "Why, Nikita?" he asked, needing to understand.
She knew she couldn't explain it to him, since she didn't truly understand it herself. So Nikita brushed a kiss across his lips, then turned to watch as the chopper landed about ten yards away. "It's time to go home, Michael," she whispered. Draping his arm over her shoulders, Nikita led him to the chopper. As they lifted off, she reached for his hand.
Michael let his fingers curl about Nikita's, but he didn't look at her. Instead he leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. He wished that he could fall asleep, then wake up only to discover that this was just a dream. A terrible nightmare. But Michael knew that it was not a dream. Nikita was no longer free, and the small ember of hope that had been burning inside him flickered and died.
************
The moment Michael and Nikita returned to Section, they were taken to Med Lab. Nikita suffered through a battery of tests, along with poking and prodding. Once done, she was allowed to leave. Med Lab, not Section One. Walter was waiting for her just outside the doors. Nikita saw a shimmer of tears in his pale eyes as he stared at her. "Hello Walter," she whispered.
He didn't respond for a moment, he was too intent on letting his eyes absorb the sight of her. Walter's heart thudded in his chest as he realized she was truly standing before him. Nikita was alive. "Hello Sugar," he replied, softly.
"I missed you," Nikita said, stepping forward to embrace Walter.
"Me too." Watler wrapped his arms around NIkita, hesitantly. He was afraid of hurting her. He knew about her torture at the hands of the terrorists and he was certain that the bruises on her beautiful face were patterned over the rest of her body. "You okay?" he asked.
Nikita pulled back and nodded. "I'm okay. How are you doing?"
Walter sighed. "Better now." He paused then, trying to chose his words, carefully. "Sugar, don't take this the wrong way but....why are you alive? I mean...I saw the building explode. You were inside. You had no way of knowing the mission profile. How did you get out?"
"Does it matter?" Nikita countered, raising one hand to touch Walter's weathered cheek. She had no intention of telling him about Michael's part in her esacpe. "I got out and I got away. I was free, Walter. If only for a little while."
"I'm sorry, sugar," he whispered, seeing the sadness that shadowed Nikita's crystal-blue gaze. "I wish...I wish you could have stayed free."
Nikita smiled. "I know. But no regrets. I can't live in the past, or predict the future. So I intend on concentrating on the present." There was a sense of maturity in both her words and tone that Nikita was oblivious too. But her thoughts were already elsewhere. "How is Michael?"
Walter felt the need to turn away from the intensity of Nikita's gaze. He was afraid that she would see his guilt, and he was carrying a heavy load. Ever since the suicide mission, Walter had been blaming Michael for Nikita's demise. He knew it wasn't fair, for Michael didn't make the decision as to who lived or died. By rights he should have blamed Operations and Madeline. But they were above his reproach. So he had laid his anger, pain and grief at Michael's feet. Walter didn't want Nikita to know about that. "Michael will be okay, sugar," he informed her. "I just came from seeing him. He's out of surgery and in recovery. You know Michael. As soon as the anesthesia wears off, he'll be back to work."
"Yeah," Nikita replied, feeling relieved. On the ride back, Michael had been so quiet, and pale. Nikita had done what she could for his leg, but she had been afraid. He'd lost so much blood. "I want to see him," she said, turning to head back into Med Lab.
"Wait." Walter grabbed her arm. "Madeline wants to see you, sugar. Right now." He sighed, letting her see that he was sorry. "She sent me to get you."
Nikita wasn't surprised. In fact, she had been expecting the summons. "Do me a favor," she requested.
Walter nodded. "Just name it, sugar," he countered. For Nikita, he would do anything.
"Keep watch over Michael for me," Nikita replied. "I don't want him to be alone." She knew that he had been alone for so long, more so since he had set her free. Nikita wanted him to know that there were people who cared about him. That he was important to them. Important to her. "Would you do that for me, Walter?" Nikita beseeched.
"Sure I will, sugar," he replied. "Now..you'd better go." Walter knew that Madeline would not be patient.
Nikita gave him another hug. "Wish me luck," she requested. Then she turned and walked away.
Walter watched her go, then whispered, "Good luck, sugar." When Nikita was out of sight, he headed back into Med Lab to keep his promise. He would stay with Michael till Nikita returned.
Madeline wasted no time. The moment Nikita entered her office, she attacked. "Did you think we would never find you?"
Nikita dropped into the chair across from Madeline's desk. "You didn't," she pointed out. "The terrorists' did. You just got lucky."
"Touche," Madeline replied. Her eyes were nearly black and glittered like ice. "How did you escape the explosion?"
"Intuition," Nikita countered, carefully schooling her own features into a neutral expression. She was borrowing it from Michael. "I sensed that something wasn't right."
Madeline smiled, a brittle curving of her lips. "Michael helped you." It was a statement, not a question.
Nikita shook her head, careful not to show any reaction. "Michael did his job, just like he always does. I figured it out, Madeline. I'm not an idiot. Just a fool. The moment I went to you after the Stanley fiasco and bared my soul, I was labeled a liability. You knew that I was suicidal, that I wouldn't be able to perform up to standards. Section can't afford excess bagage. So I was sent on a suicide mission. Only I realized something."
"What's that?" Madeline prompted, when Nikita fell silent.
"I didn't want to die," Nikita replied, forcefully. She locked eyes with the other woman, and felt confident in her defense. "So...I ran. I was free." Tears shimmered in Nikita's eyes at the memory of her time away from Section, but she blinked them back. No tears, she decided. Not any more. She would accept her destiny... embrace it with courage and conviction. "But now I'm back and ready to be the perfect little operative," Nikita declared.
Madeline didn't respond for a moment. She stared down at her hands, deep in thought, then she raised her head and locked eyes with Nikita once again. "Why should I believe you?" Madeline challenged.
Nikita shrugged, then offered a smile. "Doesn't really matter if you believe me or not. I know that I'm going to have to prove myself. I'm willing to do so."
"Why?" Madeline countered. And she was deeply interested in Nikita's answer.
"Because of Michael," Nikita replied, and she was pleased to note the flicker of surprise in Madeline's dark gaze. She had surprised the other woman, and that was not an easy thing to do.
Madeline was stunned, but recovered quickly. Her voice was cool as she stated, "But you told me that Michael was not the solution to your problems."
Nikita nodded. "He's not," she allowed. "But I owe him one. A big one."
"For setting you free?" Madeline countered, her dark eyes glittering for she believed that Nikita had just tipped her hand.
"For keeping me alive," Nikita responded, smoothly. She held Madeline's intense gaze without flinching. "My time away from Section helped me to see things clearly, Madeline. I used to blame Michael for the things I was forced to do. I punished him for all the lies and manipulations. But now I know who to blame, and why."
Madeline laughed, a cold, hollow, sound. "So now you blame me?" she guessed.
Nikita didn't deny it. "Operations as well. Of course, you're just doing your job." Pushing a limp lock of hair out of her eyes, Nikita rose to her feet. "Is that all? I really need a shower and some sleep."
"You can go," Madeline allowed. "But we'll talk again," she warned.
"I'm sure we will," Nikita drawled. "One more thing," she said, stepping forward to rest her palms on the desk top. "What about Michael?" Nikita was more worried about him, than herself, at this point.
Madeline didn't blink. "What about him?"
Nikita shook her head wishing that, just for once, they didn't have to play games. "Are you going to punish him?" she queried, being careful not to let her anxiety show.
"Is there a reason why we should?" Madeline countered, leaning forward to meet Nikita's gaze.
"Since when when do you need a reason?" Nikita challenge, thinking back to Simone, and the War. There were other times as well. "I just want to know," Nikita confessed. "What's going to happen to Michael?"
Madeline took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, then replied, "That depends."
Nikita swallowed a sigh of frustration. More games. "On what?" she prompted.
"On you," Madeline replied, softly. Then she turned her attention to the video screen, effectively dismissing Nikita.
"Later," Nikita drawled, as a warning to Madeline that this wasn't finished between them. But she had gotten the message loud and clear. Nikita knew that her actions would determine Michael's fate, and she was just beginning to realize that it would be a heavy burden to bear.
Operation's stood beside Michael's bed. Walter had been keeping watch over the young operative when he had arrived, but Operations had dismissed him. He needed to have a talk with Michael. Madeline was setting the ground rules with Nikita, and Operations would do the same with Michael. They had no proof that Michael had helped Nikita to escape the suicide mission, but Operations would have bet his life on it. Michael's actions could not go unpunished. But Madeline had convinced Operations that the best course of action would be to make Nikita responsible for Michael. Much in the way that Michael had watched over her in the beginning. Turn the tables on the, as it were.
"How do you feel?" Operations asked, as he watched Michael's eyes flutter open.
"I'm okay," Michael replied, automatically. He wasn't surprised to see Operations. He had been expecting it. Only he would have preferred to the meet to occur outside of Med Lab. Michael was at a physcial, and psychological disadvantage at this point. But, of course, Operations would know that.
The gray-haired man nodded, then got right to the point. "Nikita will be held in close quarters for a probationary period of two months. She'll undergo intensive retraining, after which time she will go out on her first, cold op, mission. Under your supervision."
Michael nodded. It was what he would have expected. "I understand," he replied.
"Good," Operations draweled. "Understand this as well. During her training period, you are not to interfere. She'll have another trainer. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Michael whispered. "Who will be training her?" he asked, out of curiosity's sake.
Operations smiled. "Giles," he replied, then he turned and walked away.
Michael felt himself grow pale. Giles had been one of his trainers. The man was big, mean, cruel and sadistic. Michael knew that Operations had chosen him with one purpose in mind. To break Nikita. But Michael had no intention of letting that happen. Wincing against the pain stabbing through his leg, Michael pulled out his IV, slid out of bed and began dressing. He had work to do.
THE END
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