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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.
Nikita stood at the stove stirring spaghetti sauce and the thought occurred to her to wonder if Michael even liked spaghetti. She had no way of knowing what he liked since she had never seen him eat. To late now, she decided with a shrug. If he didn't like it, he could go hungry.
It had taken Nikita a long time to muster up the courage to invite Michael over for dinner. But she felt that it was time for them to talk about their....relationship. In the month before Michael had set her free, things had begun changing between them. And Nikita had never thanked Michael for his sacrifice in letting her go. She knew what he had risked to do so, even if he didn't. When she had asked him to come over for dinner tonight, Nikita had expected a refusal. Michael had hesitated for a long moment, then accepted. Nikita hadn't been able to hide her surprise. All the more so when Michael had said they needed to talk. So here she was, making spaghetti, and lots of it. She had stopped at her favorite bakery on the way home to pick up cheesecake for dessert. She hoped Michael liked cheesecake.
A knock on the door made Nikita jumped and she realized that it was seven o'clock. Michael was right on time. Of course. Smoothing a stray lock of hair into place, Nikita took a deep breath, released it, then went to the door. She opened it with a smile on her face. "Come in, Michael," she said softly.
"Thank you," he replied, stepping past Nikita. In his hands was a bottle of wine which he held out to her after she had closed the door behind him. "I brought red," he stated, unneccessarily.
"Great!" Nikita suddenly realized that she had forgotten about wine for dinner. "Take your coat off," she invited, setting the wine down then reaching out to take it from him. But she froze in mid-reach as she realized that Michael was wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved, heather-blue t-shirt. Not his basic black. "What's the occassion?" she teased.
Michael shrugged then offered a smile. "I forgot to do laundry," he replied.
Nikita didn't believe him, for she saw the sudden twinkle in his eyes. It faded quickly, but she had seen it. She believed he was trying to let her know that this evening was about them, not Section, and she appreciated his efforts. "Are you hungry?" she inquired, as she moved to hang his coat up on the rack.
"Starving," Michael replied, his eyes flickering over Nikita as he spoke. She was dressed in a long, black skirt with a soft, white sweater. "You look beautiful," he whispered.
"Thank you," Nikita replied, feeling a flush of warmth stain her cheeks. She couldn't explain why she suddenly felt shy, so she stepped past Michael to attend to her sauce. "Dinner's almost ready," she told him. "I hope you like spaghetti."
Michael glided over to the counter and leaned against it, watching Nikita as she stirred the sauce. "I love spaghetti," he said softly.
Nikita felt relieved at his words. "Good," she said with a laugh, cause I made alot of it. With meatballs." She didn't add that it was her first attempt at making them. The meatballs, not the spaghetti.
"Shall I pour the wine?" Michael asked, as he watched Nikita fill their plates.
"Please," she replied, gratefully, hoping that she wouldn't drop spaghetti on the floor while he was watching her. Michael's gaze was so intense that Nikita could feel it burning her skin. "The glasses are on the table."
Michael grabbed the wine and strolled over to the far corner. "It looks beautiful," he commented, as he stared at the flowers and candles that decorated the table.
Nikita grinned. "Thanks. I wanted things to be nice," she admitted. Just then there was a knock on the door. Nikita groaned. "Who could that be?" she muttered.
"I'll get it," Michael offered, seeing that her hands were full.
"Send them away!" Nikita told him. She didn't want any interruptions. Tonight was for her and Michael. A chance to talk things out between them and Nikita had waited a long time for it.
Michael didn't respond to Nikita's orders. He opened the door and found himself smiling at a tall woman with red hair. "Carla," he said, recognizing her as Nikita's friend from across the hall. Thanks to the surveillance cameras that used to be in Nikita's apartment.
The red-head was stunned by the sight of the gorgeous man who stood in the door way. "I'm....Uh.." she stuttered.
"Come in," Michael told her, reaching for her hand and pulling Carla inside so that he could close the door behind her. "Look, Nikita. It's your friend, Carla."
"Hello Carla," Nikita replied, hiding her annoyance at the interruption. It wasn't Carla's fault that she had bad timing. "What can I do for you?" she inquired, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she moved forward to greet her friend.
Carla stared from the gorgous man to Nikita, then took in the candle light and the aroma of sauce. "Well..I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for a bite," she explained, with an embarrassed grin. "But I can see that you're busy." She turned back towards the door. "I'll go."
Michael grabbed her arm, but his eyes were on Nikita as he spoke. "Why don't you join us for dinner?" he invited. "I couldn't," Carla protested. She was certain that Nikita had a romantic evening planned and she couldn't blame her. Whoever the new boyfriend was, he was most definitely beautiful and Carla found herself aroused by his blantant sensuality.
"Sure you could," Nikita drawled, reached for Carla's other arm. She had gotten Michael's messaged loud and clear. He wasn't ready to talk, or to be alone with her. Nikita was a bit upset, but a part of her understood. She wouldn't push him. Instead she would follow his lead and let him set the pace. "Michael and I are old friends, Carla," Nikita explained. "We're just having...dinner. I want you to stay."
Carla bit her lip, uncertain. She somehow doubted that Michael and Nikita were just *friends*, but Nikita's invitation seemed sincere, and she was bored. "All right, I'll stay," Carla declared, a smile revealing dazzling white teeth. "It smells delicious."
Michael resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief. He knew that Nikita was disappointed and he felt regret for that fact. But, the truth was, Michael wasn't ready to talk. This was better than silence between them, or more lies. Or letting his physical desires get out of control. "Would you like a glass of wine, Carla?" he asked.
"I'd love it," she replied, her eyes glued to Michael's back as he walked over to the table to retrieve the glasses.
"Bad girl!" Nikita hissed in Carla's ear, as she watched her friend's eyes become glued to Michael's butt. Not that she blamed her. Nikita did the same thing whenever Michael was in field gear. The man had an awesome behind.
Carla giggled, but didn't deny it. However, she schooled her expression to one of innocence as Michael returned to hand her a glass of wine. "So...Michael," she began. "Have you and Nikita known each other long?"
Michael looked at Nikita for a moment, then replied, "A few years." He handed her a glass of wine, then accepted an empty glass to fill for himself. "Tell me about yourself, Carla," he invited. "What do you do?"
And so the few hours passed with laughter and warm commaraderie. Michael encouraged Carla to do most of the talking and by midnight they had devoured most of the spaghetti, half of the cheesecake and the entire bottle of wine.
Carla's face was flushed as she said her goodbyes to Michael and Nikita. "It was great meeting you," she said to Michael.
"And you," he replied, sincerely. Carla was a good person and he genuinely liked her. Michael pressed kisses to her cheeks, French-style, then laughed when her blush deepened. The moment Carla had hugged Nikita goodbye, then was gone, Michael turned to the beautiful blond. "I'm glad you have her for a friend," he said softly.
"So am I," Nikita allowed. "Carla helps to keep me sane sometimes."
Michael could relate to that. Nikita was his link to sanity. Sometimes she was the cause of his madness as well, but it was a fair trade, to his mind. Michael reached for his coat and pulled it on. "I have to go," he whispered.
Nikita sighed. She had been hoping for at least a few minutes alone with him, but she kept to her silent vow. She wouldn't push him. "Good night, Michael," she said, stepping forward to give him a hug.
"Goodnight, Nikita," he breathed in her ear. Then he stepped back so that he could cup her face in his hands. Locking eyes with Nikita for a moment, Michael then bent his head to kiss her soft lips. He felt fire ripple through his veins but ignored it. Now was not the time, nor were they in the right place, emotionally, for passion to rule them. "I'll see you tomorrow," Michael said, pulling back and putting distance between them.
"Right...tomorrow," Nikita replied, refusing to let her disappointment show. She had wanted the kiss to continue, but she knew that Michael was right to stop them. Nikita desired him more than any other man she had ever known, but there were so many obstacles in their way. Sex between them would be great, but Nikita wanted more than that. "Drive careful," she cautioned, as he opened the door.
Michael turned to smile at her. It wasn't a big smile, but is was genuine. "Sweet dreams, Nikita," he wished her, then he was gone.
Nikita did sigh as she closed the door behind him. But then she remembered how wonderful the evening had been. How she had watched Michael smile and flirt with Carla, both of them knowing that it was harmless fun, and Nikita realized that she had finally gotten her first glimpse at the real Michael. The man, not the Operative. It had been worth the wait. Clicking off the lights, Nikita headed for bed. She didn't have anything to clean up for Michael had done the dishes and cleaned up the mess NIkita had made while cooking. And he had done it all with the same expertise as he seemed to do all other things. "A man who does the dishes," Nikita muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs then fell across her bed without bothering to do more than slip off her skirt. "He's a keeper," she whispered. A smile curved her lips as Nikita drifted off to sleep, and the into the sweet dreams Michael had wished for her.
The next day Nikita entered the conference room at Section for a briefing. Michael was already there, so was Madeline. Nikita was disappointed, for she had hoped to get the chance to talk with Michael, alone. But that was not to be, for now.
Operations strode into the room and began the briefing. He explained that a man by the name of Robert Hughlett had in his possession a *black mail* list of names, international, that would be of great value to those who consider the US an enemy. It was of the utmost importance that Section retrieve that list. Operations told Michael and Nikita that they would be taking on the identity of business partners, Daniel Roth and Lorna Bates. Daniel was French, Lorna, British. The real couple were locked up in Section but were very cooperative. They had contacted Hughlett to set up a meeting in regards to purchasing the list. The back ground of the couple was that they had once worked as 'thieves for hire' and were very good at purloining things.
Madeline explained that Hughlett would no doubt test them in some manner, so they were to be prepared for anything. She had their wardrobes waiting for them in her office, the plane would leave in two hours. She then left it to Michael to fill in the details to Nikita while on the plane. After all, he had worked up the additional tacticals. Then Madeline followed Operations out of the room.
Since they were alone, if only for a moment, Nikita took the oppurtunity to speak with Michael. She knew that once they were on the plane he would be all business. "Can I have a word with you?" Nikita requested, cutting Michael off when he would have headed for the exit.
"What is it?" Michael countered, keeping his tone pleasant, but cool.
"I really enjoyed last night," Nikita admitted, her eyes locking with his. She saw a flicker of agreement in the silver-green depths and it brought a smile to her face. "But we really do need to talk," Nikita insisted.
Michael nodded. He knew that Nikita was right. "Let's try dinner again," he suggested. "This time in a restaurant. No interruptions...except for the waiter."
Nikita realized that Michael was suggesting that they meet on neutral territory and she was willing to accept that. For now. "Deal," she replied. "We'll go first night that's open for us both?"
"Agreed," Michael allowed, then he took Nikita's arm. "We have to go."
"I know," Nikita sighed. But she followed him willingly enough. Section business would always come first with Michael, she knew. And it was the first thing Nikita would have to accept, if she wanted to take her relationship with Michael to the next level. It wasn't easy, but she was trying. And that was the best she could hope for in Section.
************
Michael and Nikita met with Hughlett in a park. He was in his early forties with black eyes and thinning, black hair. He was of medium height, but built like a bull, and his expensive suits, though tailor made, still strained at his bulk. He gave Michael and Nikita a thorough once over, then invited them to walk with him. Three bodyguards followed them, at a discreet distance.
"So...Daniel...I understand that you and Lorna are strictly *business* partners?" Hughlett inquired of Michael.
"We learned along time ago not to mix business with pleasure," Michael replied, in heavily accented English, keeping in mind the part he was playing.
Huglett smiled at Lorna. "Daniel has great restraint to resist so beautiful a woman."
Nikita shrugged. "Actually, I'm the one with the over active libido," she purred, proving her point by letting her fingers tangle in Michael's hair, then slowly slide down his back to curve around the muscle of his buttocks in an intimate caress.
"We work hard and play hard," Michael whispered. He knew what Nikita was doing and he decided that two could play that game. So he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulled her hard against his body, then he claimed a kiss. Once he was certain Nikita was breathless, Michael released her and resumed his conversation with Hughlett, as if nothing had occurred. It was a good thing the man couldn't see inside his chest, for Michael's heart was pounding like a drum.
"And you know how to play the game quite well," Hughlett acknowledged, with a grin. He could see that Lorna was quite flustered from the kiss, but was quick to compose herself. She was an intriguing woman. So far he liked the couple and was willing to deal with them. If they could prove themselves. His smile faded. Time to get down to business. "I have something that you wish to purchase," he said, introducing the subject of the list. "I'm willing to do business with you, for I respect your reputation. But I need to know that I can trust you."
Nikita glared at him, keeping within character. "And how do we prove to you that you can?" she queried.
Hughlett shrugged. "That's easy enough. Steal something for me."
"And what does that prove?" Michael countered, his eyes cold. "You know that we're thieves and that we've never been caught. So what's the point?"
"What I want you to steal won't be easy to get," Hughlett replied. "But if you do it, you'll prove just how badly you want this deal to happen. If you risk everything, then I'll know I can trust you."
Nikita nodded, for it make a twisted kind of sense, and they had been expecting this anyway. "What do you want us to steal?" she asked.
Hughlett's smile returned. "The Le Rouge diamond from the Marcel display in the Westmere Museum here in town."
"You ask us to do the impossible," Michael shot back. He knew about the diamond, and had been to the Westmere museum. The security was impenetrable. Very high tech.
"That's the deal," Hughlett insisted. "Get me the diamond and I'll sell you the book. I have many eager buyers waiting in line, my friends. Yes or no? Decide now."
Nikita looked at Michael, who nodded, then back at Hughlett. "We'll do it," she declared. "When and where?"
Hughlett was pleased. "Tonight. We'll meet tomorrow night, you chose the place. That way we keep the trust between us."
"We'll meet here, at midnight," Michael said, taking a card from his pocket and scribbling an address on the back of it, which he then held out to Hughlett. It would be them back on Section home turf, and he and Madeline had discussed this option earlier. Hughlett had just given them a freebie.
"Until tomorrow then," Hughlett countered, accepting the card and sketching a bow. Then he walked away with his body guards in tow.
Nikita looked at Michael. Once Hughlett was out of earshot she asked, "What now?"
He shrugged. "We steal ourselves a diamond." With that he strolled off, leaving Nikita to follow him.
Thanks to a few phone calls made and some favors called in, Michael and Nikita were able to get their hands on the La Rouge diamond. Once they had gotten list from Hughlett and he was taken care of, the diamond would be returned to the museum. So, as planned, Michael and Nikita met with Hughlett and handed over the gem. The man was impressed and agreed to sell them the list for one million dollars. He considered the diamond the rest of his fee. Michael pushed for a time and a place, but Hughlett wouldn't be pinned down to a confirmation, saying only that he would call them with when and where.
After returning to Section and being debriefed, Nikita sought out Michael. As she had expected, he was in his office, working on a report. "Got a minute?" Nikita inquired as she dropped into the empty chair across from him.
"What is it?" Michael asked, glancing up from the monitor screen.
"I was hoping that we could do dinner tonight," Nikita replied, her eyes on his beautiful face. She wondered if Michael were aware of his effect on women. Some times she thought so, other times she was sure he was oblivious to his sensual potency.
Michael considered for a moment. He needed to be available to take Hughlett's phone call when it came, but Birkhoff could forward it to his cell phone. "Sounds good," he replied, and was rewarded by the smile that lit up Nikita's face. "I'll pick you up at eight o'clock?"
Nikita glanced at her watch. It was four AM now. She needed to get at least eight hours sleep, then prepare for the evening. "Eight is perfect," she confirmed. "So...where are we going?" Nikita needed to know how to dress.
"To a nice place," Michael countered, hiding a smile. He knew what Nikita was asking, and why. Then he relented, giving her a clue. "It's a four-star resturant."
"Trying to impress me?" Nikita teased, hers eyes twinkling.
Michael shook his head, taking the question seriously. "I don't think I could," he replied, with more than a hint of self-depracation.
Nikita was about to respond to his remark when Walter popped his head in the door.
"Michael, Madeline needs you, ASAP," the older man said, and his serious tone left no doubt to the fact that something was up.
"I'll be right there," Michael replied, already rising from his chair. He switched off his comp then smiled at Nikita. "Eight o'clock," he said softly. Then he was gone.
Nikita stayed in his office for a time, a smile on her face. She sensed that Michael would be there, come hell or high water. And that made her happy because it meant that tonight was important to him too.
It was seven forty-five and Nikita was ready to scream with frustration. She was wearing a simple, black dress, sheer black stockings and black velvet sandals, but wasn't satisfied with the look. So now she was flinging clothes out of her closet while trying to yank the curlers out of her hair. She had just decided to change into a red dress when there was a knock on the door. Nikita groaned. "Dammit, Michael...you're early!" Pulling out the last curler, Nikita ran down the stairs, putting a smile on her face as she yanked open the door. She was more than a little surprised to see Carla standing there.
The red-haired woman fell into Nikita's arms. She was all dressed up but her face was streaked with black from her mascara. "Oh....Nikita..." she sobbed.
"Carla...what's wrong?" Nikita asked, rubbing her hands up and down the other woman's back. "Talk to me."
"He stood....me...up..." Carla cried.
Nikita frowned, "Who stood you up?" she asked, feeling totally confused.
Carla pulled back and wiped at her eyes. "Dennis.." she replied, sniffling. "The lawyer I told you about."
"Lawyer..." Nikita repeated, drawing a blank. But then she remembered. "Oh...that older guy who drives the Porshe."
"That's the one," Carla confirmed, heading over to the kitchen area to grab a paper towel so she could blow her nose. "He was supposed to take me to dinner tonight, some fancy resturant, but he didn't show up. And when I called his house no one answered. So I called his office and his secretary told me that he left for the Bahamas with his..his...girlfriend!" Once again Carla dissolved into tears.
Nikita felt sympathy for her friend, but not surprise. She remembered Carla talking about Dennis and her first impression had been that the man was slime. Of cours she hand't shared that opinion, and she was sorry that she had been right. But Carla seemed to have the worst taste in men. "I'm so sorry," Nikita said softly, hugging Carla. She didn't know what else to do. Words were such an empty comfort.
Carla clung to Nikita for a moment, then she realized that the beautiful blond was all dressed up. She pulled back and stared at her friend. "You look gorgeous, Nikita. You're going out, aren't you?"
"Well.." Nikita felt a bit guilty but nodded. "Dinner," she confessed.
"With anyone I know?" Carla questioned, wiping tears off her face with the soggy paper towel.
Nikita bit her lip, wondering if she should tell. Then she decided it wouldn't hurt. "With Michael."
Carla smiled. "He's gorgeous," she said, wistfully. Then she sighed. "You're so lucky, Nikita. Men adore you. Gorgeous, sexy, wonderful men."
"Don't get carried away, Carla," Nikita warned, but a smile crossed her face. It was then that she realized it was almost eight and Michael would be arriving. "My hair.." Nikita moaned.
"Go ahead and fix it," Carla replied. "I'll get out of your way." She headed for the door.
Nikita grabbed her arm. "You stay here," she ordered. "I'll be back in a flash." With that Nikita bounded up the stairs and into the bathroom. She returned to the livingroom five minutes later to discover that Michael had arrived and was talking with Carla. They were both smiling. Nikita couldn't help but notice that Michael looked gorgeous in black pants with a black, silk shirt and a teal green blazer. Once again he was wearing color, and Nikita knew it was for her benefit. "Hello, Michael," she offered in greeting, as she made her way down the stairs.
Michael stared at Nikita, his eyes glowing with a appreciation. "You look beautiful," he whispered, as she reached him.
"Thanks," Nikita replied. "So do you." She felt a flush of pleasure when Michael reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. Her skin tingled from the warmth of his kiss.
"Guess what, Nikita!" Carla enthused, interrupting the moment. Her face glowed with excitement.
Nikita turned to her, and smiled in return. "What?" she asked, obediently.
Carla grabbed Nikita's hand and practically jumped up and down. "Michael invited me to have dinner with you. Isn't that wonderful?" Carla was feeling to lonely and depressed to consider the fact that she might be intruding upon a special occasion. She was simply thrilled at the thought of not spending the evening at home, with a half gallon of ice cream as her only companion.
"That's...great!" NIkita replied, her eyes flickering over to Michael. She gave him a look that spoke volumes. A part of her appreciated his thoughtfulness, but the other part of her was a bit upset that he had fanagled his way out of having to talk to her about their relationship...again. Still, in the face of Carla's enthusiasm, and understanding that her friend needed companionship, Nikita relented and was, genuinely, pleased. "Shall we go then?" she queried, smiling at Michael as she stepped past him to retrieve her coat.
Michael took it from her, holding it so Nikita could slide her arms into the sleeves. He then settled it over her shoulders, letting his fingers caress the nape of her neck for a moment before pulling away. "The limo is waiting," he said softly, then he gestured for the two women to precede him out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.
The next morning, Nikita corned Michael in his office. "I want to thank you for what you did for Carla last night," she began, as she plopped into the empty chair. She considered carving her name into it since she used it more than anyone else.
Michael lifted his eyes up from the file he had been reading. "She's a nice woman, I'm glad I could help." It had been a nice evening. For Michael it had been a chance to see Nikita having fun. She had spent several hours being *normal*, and that gave him pleasure. He realized that Carla was like a breath of fresh air for Nikita, and for that he was grateful.
"She thinks you're terrific," Nikita countered, grinning. "And gorgeous!" she couldn't resist adding, just to see his reaction. In typical, Michael, fashion his expression remained neutral.
"Hughlett called," Michael said, abruptly changing the subject. He knew that Nikita was trying to get a rise out of him, but she should have known better than that.
Nikita sighed. "So...when do we meet with him?" She knew that Michael would put Section business before anything else.
Tapping a button on his keyboard, Michael replied, "Ten o'clock, tomorrow night."
"Are we on close quarter standby till then?" Nikita queried.
"Yes," Michael confirmed. He watched Nikita stand up then head for the door. "Madeline wants to see you," he called after her.
Nikita grimaced. "Right now?" At Michael's nod she heaved another sigh. "Now what did I do?" Nikita muttered beneath her breath as she waved goodbye to Michael then headed down the corridor.
Madeline wasted no time with amenties. The moment Nikita entered her office she laid down the facts. "It's time for you to make a choice," she said firmly.
Nikita shook her head, feeling like she had come in at the middle of a movie and was lost as to the plotline. "What are you talking about?" she countered, moving to stand before Madeline's desk. "What kind of a choice?"
"Do you protect your family...or your friends?" Madeline replied. "The Section, or the innocent?" A cold smile curved her lips. "Keep in mind, Nikita, that should you make the wrong choice, Michael will the one to pay the price. After all, he is responsible for you. If you fail, he fails."
"What do want me to do?" Nikita asked. But she found it hard to force the question out around the lump that had formed in her throat. She realized that the time had come for her to face the ramifications of her actions. Her flight of freedom would not go unpunished.
Madeline locked eyes with Nikita and she could see fear in the crystal-blue gaze. "You'll know when the time comes," she said softly. "We need to know where your loyalty lies, Nikita. You need to know that as well."
Nikita couldn't hold Madeline's dark gaze, so her eyes flickered about the room as she fought back sudden tears. "So I'm being tested yet again," she shot back, feeling angry. Nikita wondered if Michael's sudden willingness to work on a relationship with her was yet another one of his manipulations.
"Michael knows nothing about this," Madeline said suddenly, as if reading Nikita's mind. The young woman was unable to hide her pain, and Madeline could guess it's origins. "You're not to tell him about this conversation, Nikita. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly," Nikita drawled, although she wasn't sure she understood at all. "Can I leave now?" she asked. She needed some time alone, to think.
Madeline nodded. "Don't forget that you meet with Hughlett in a few hours."
Nikita didn't respond. She simply turned on her heel and strode from the room. Her heart was heavy as she made her way down the corridor to her quarters, for Nikita sensed that whatever happened tonight, she would be forced sacrifice whatever fragments of her humanity she had managed to cling to in the past three years. And if that happened, then Section would have what it had wanted all along. A killing machine without a soul.
************
When the knock sounded on Carla's door, she assumed it was Nikita. But when she opened it, she discovered a lovely, dark-haired woman standing there. Her brown eyes were filled with sadness. "Can I help you?" Carla inquired, politely.
Madeline offered a smile. "Yes. My name is Janet, I'm Nikita's aunt. There's been a death in our family and I need to let Nikita know. It's very important."
"I don't think she's home," Carla offered, helpfully.
"I know that," Madeline replied. "Nikita has told me about you, Carla. She thinks of you as a dear friend. I need a favor from you."
Carla nodded. "Anything," she replied. She was touched to know that Nikita thought so highly of her, so she was willing to do whatever she could.
Madeline held out a letter and a slip of paper with an address on it. "This is where Nikita is right now. I have to get back to the family, or I would go myself. It would be a big help if you could deliver this letter to her. The house number is on the paper. Having you there to support her when she reads the news would make me feel better."
"I'd be happy to go," Carla said, already reaching for her coat. "I'll go right now."
"Thank you," Madeline replied, softly. "This means alot...to both of us." She reached for one of Carla's hands and clasped it firmly between both of hers. "You're a good friend, Carla. Nikita is lucky."
Carla took a chance and gave the other woman a quick hug. "I'm sorry for your loss," she declared, with warm sincerity.
Madeline smiled. "Thank you. So am I."
"I'll keep an eye on Nikita," Carla promised, as she stepped back then headed for the exit. She waved then was gone.
"You do that," Madeline whispered, watching her go. Then she turned the other way and walked off.
Michael and Nikita were at the meeting with Hughlett. They had come together at a small house in a middleclass section of town. A rural area without close neighbors. Tension seemed to crackle in the air as Hughlett placed the list on the table. When Nikita reached for it he smacked her hand. "Not till I see the money," he warned.
"Take a look," Michael invited, as he set a small briefcase on the table and popped it open. It was filled with stacks of one hundred dollar bills.
"Very nice," Hughlett drawled, picking up one bundle and riffling it with his fingertips. Just then the doorbell rang and everyone reached for their guns. Hughlett ordered one of his guards to check it out.
Nikita exchanged glances with Michael as they waited. She saw him shake his head. He didn't know what was up either. A moment later Nikita swallowed a gasp as she heard a familiar voice call her name. Her real name, not the role she was playing. It was Carla. Suddenly, all hell broke loose, and in that moment Nikita understood the choice that Madeline expected her to make.
Carla had walked in on a mission. In doing so she had breached the security of Section One. There was no going back for Carla. For an innocent there were only two choices. Becoming a part of Section, if they so desired it, or cancellation. Nikita knew the first choice was not an option. So she would either have to cancel Carla or help her escape. But there was Michael to consider. He would pay the price if she made the wrong choice. Family or friend, Madeline had said.
"Get down!" Michael hissed, shoving Nikita to the floor as bullets sprayed over their heads. He had recognized Carla's voice as well and he wondered what in the hell the young woman was doing here. The mission, as well as Section, was compromised, but there might be a way to save face. First things first. Michael had to get the list. He looked around and saw that Hughlett was on the move with both the money and the list. "I'm going after Hughlett," Michael announced.
Nikita nodded. "I'll take care of Carla." By the look on Michael's face, Nikita could tell that he expected her to try and save Carla. She was stunned to realize that he accepted it. No doubt he would even cover for her with Section, as he had done so often in the past. Nikita exhaled a shaky breath as she watched him head off after Hughlett. "Be safe, Michael," she whispered, then she rolled to her knees, firing off a shot at one of the guards.
The moment shots were fired, Carla began screaming. The man who had answered the door grabbed her by the hair and used her as a shield. Carla simply covered her eyes and screamed. But then she felt his body jerk and his hand left her hair. It was then that she opened her eyes to find Nikita standing before her, gun in hand. Carla stopped screaming and stared.
"It's all right, Carla," Nikita whispered, moving forward to take the other woman by the hand. "Come with me," she beseeched, moving into the bedroom. Once there she made Carla sit on the edge of the bed, then she moved behind her smoothing the fiery hair in a soothing gesture.
"Nikita...." Carla hiccupped the name as sobs shook her. "I'm...I..." The words wouldn't come.
Nikita hugged her from behind. "It's all right, Carla," she said softly, as she stepped back and raised her gun. Flashes of another redhead filled her vision. Stanley Shays. Another time, another place...another innocent. He was dead. "It's gonna be allright, Carla," Nikita whispered, then she closed her eyes. An the face she saw before her was Michael's.
Michael returned to the house after taking down Hughlett and getting back the money and the list. He searched the rooms, stepping over dead bodies, as he searched for Nikita. He found her in the hallway, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. "Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down beside her, his eyes searching for blood.
Nikita nodded. "Fine. Did you get the list?"
"Yes." Michael reached out to tuck a pale lock of hair behind her ear. "I've called housekeeping, they'll be here soon." Michael took a quick look around. "Where's Carla?"
"In there," Nikita replied, gesturing to the bedroom doorway with her gun. She watched Michael rise to his feet and enter the room. A moment later he was back and came to stand before her.
Michael stared down at Nikita, his eyes cold as ice. "Why?" he demanded. For he knew that she was the one who had killed Carla.
Nikita closed her eyes and the image of Carla, lying on the bed, her blood staining the pillow, haunted her. "I had no choice," she whispered. Nikita wanted to tell Michael the truth, but that was forbidden to her. Now she suddenly realized what it was like for him. She understood the motivation behind his lies to her. But it didn't make it any easier for her to forgive him the past, or herself the present.
"No choice," Michael repeated. Then he turned on his heel and walked out.
"I'm sorry," Nikita whispered as tears rolled down her face. "I'm sorry." But she didn't know who she was begging forgiveness from. Carla, Michael...or herself.
Three days after the incident with Hughlett and Carla's death, Michael and Nikita were still avoiding each other at Section. When Michael was sent on a mission, Nikita stayed home. Two weeks passed and she began to feel as if the walls were closing in on her. Everytime the phone rang she hoped it would be Michael whispering, "Josephine." But it never was. Finally, Nikita couldn't take it anymore, she returned to Section and her first stop was Madeline's office.
Madeline had been expecting her. Alot sooner, in fact. "You made the right choice," she said in greeting.
"Was it really about choices, Madeline?" Nikita countered, as she moved to stand before the desk. "Or was it more a test of my loyalty to Section? As opposed to my loyalty to Michael."
"Meaning what?" Madeline prompted, with sincere curiousity.
Nikita shrugged. "Oh...meaning, what you really wanted was to see if I would lie to Michael. If I could turn the tables on him, so to speak. Is that how you've gotten him to lie to me in the past? Threaten him with my cancellation?"
Madeline leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap as she studied Nikita. She let nothing of what she was thinking show on her face as she replied, "We needed to see if you could do you job, Nikita. And you did."
"I did indeed," Nikita allowed. "And, in doing so, I've proven myself to be the perfect, little operative. A Section puppet." Nikita's eyes flashed as she slammed her fists down on the desk. "Understand this, Madeline!" she hissed. "I did not chose to be loyal to the Section. I chose Michael over Carla, it's as simple as that. Just like I chose him over my freedom, when Operations asked me to help him save Stephen. A part of me knew, all along, that I would never be free. You always talk about choice, Madeline. But all roads lead to a dead end in Section. It's just an illusion that we have a choice to make. But..had it come down to a true choice, I would have saved Michael."
"By choosing Michael, you have proven your loyalty to Section, Nikita," Madeline replied. "And we are very pleased."
Nikita laughed, a contemptous sound. "I'll bet you are. Especially since he can't stand the sight of me anymore. Then again, maybe that was your intention all along. After all, I'm a distraction...right? Michael's not as efficient a killer when I'm around. Isn't that RIGHT?" Nikita's voice rose in volume.
Madeline simply held her gaze, unaffected by the other woman's fury. "Does it matter?" she countered, her dark eyes cold.
"No.." Nikita whispered. "It doesn't." Letting the rage drain out of her, Nikita turned and strode out of the office. When the doors had closed behind her, she slumped against the wall, sagging with defeat. But after a moment NIkita pulled herself together. There was someone else she had to face.
Nikita entered Michael's office, only to discover that he wasn't there. When she turned to leave, she jumped, for he was standing in the doorway. "Can we talk?" Nikita entreatied, trying to read his thoughts, but failing. Michael's eyes were blank and his face a neutral mask.
Michael simply stared at Nikita, letting a heavy silence build between them. When he realized that she was going to stand her ground he said, "There's nothing to talk about."
"Yes there is," Nikita insisted. "Madeline gave me a choice, Michael. Family or friend. The Section, or an innocent. I made my choice."
"Yes, you did," Michael replied, and his voice was colored with infinite sadness. For by making her choice, Nikita had forfeited her soul. Michael knew it even if she didn't, for there was a time when he had been forced to make the same choice.
Nikita moved to stand directly before him, her eyes locking with Michael's. "The choice was very clear, Michael. You...or Carla." She wanted him to understand what it meant for them. For the future of their relationship. Nikita also wanted him to understand what it meant to her.
Michael did understand, in a way that Nikita never would. "You made the wrong choice," he said softly, then he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
"You're wrong, Michael," Nikita replied, even though he couldn't hear her. Blinking back tears she whispered, "I made the only choice I could."
THE END
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