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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 on the seventh floor of the abandoned apartment building. She was waiting for a signal from Michael to continue down the hallway. When he waved to her, she checked the numbers on the door, searching for 717. That's where Trigger Larson liked to stay. Room 717. He had a thing about that number. Nikita rolled her eyes at the thought, then shrugged it off. Their mission was simple enough. Grab Trigger and bring him back to Section. He was to be the bait to lure someone else they were after out into the open.
"Michael." Nikita hissed his name. When he turned to her, she waved him over then pointed. She had found room 717.
Michael used his radio to let the other team members know they had found the room. "Keep an eye out for stragglers," he told them. Then he gestured for Nikita to stand back while he kicked open the door. Michael then glided in, semi-automatic raised, only to discover that the livingroom was empty. He moved swiftly into the kitchen and wanted to curse. Sitting in a chair, at the table, was Trigger Larsen. He was dead, a gaping hole in his forehead.
Nikita came up behind Michael, just as he pulled off his mask. A moment later she spotted Trigger, so she ripped her own mask off as well. "What's going on, Michael?" she questioned, hearing the anxiety that colored her voice. Something was very wrong.
"It's a set-up," Michael replied. Then he reached for his radio and gave the order to *abort*.
"Come on," Nikita said, heading for the door. She stopped when she noticed that he wasn't following her. "Michael?"
He waved her away. "Go on, Nikita. I'll be right behind you."
She didn't move. "What are you waiting for?" Nikita challenged. She didn't want to leave him alone.
"Do as I say!" Michael hissed at her, reaching out with one hand to push Nikita out the door. He followed as far as the hallway, then gestured for her to leave. "GO!" Michael ordered, his eyes flashing.
"Fine!" Nikita spat, turning and heading for the stairs. Damn him anyway. Michael was the most stubborn individual she had ever met and he never, once, let her get inside his head. But she shook aside such thoughts as she ran down the stairs.
Michael headed in that direction, but something stopped him. A feeling. Someone was there, lurking in the shadows, and Michael knew that it wasn't one of his team. He turned, ready to fire, but in that moment he felt a stinging in his neck. Tranquilizer dart. A heartbeat later, Michael fell into darkness.
Nikita was waiting in the van with the others. She checked her watch. Three minutes had passed with no sign of Michael. He hould have followed her right out. He knew that Operations would be waiting for them. As if on cue, the man himself appeared on Birkhoff's monitor. "What's going on?" Ops demanded.
Birkhoff grimaced. "We had to abort."
Operations was not pleased. "Why?"
Nikita bent down in front of the monitor to explain. She could almost feel Operations fury. "Michael said it was a set up," Nikita finished, lamely.
"Come in now," Ops ordered.
"Michael is still in the building," Nikita countered. She had left him behind once before, she was not about to do it again.
Operations was silent for a minute, considering. "Get him. You've got two minutes."
That was all NIkita needed to hear. She was out of the van and running back into the building. Intuition pulled her to the seventh floor, but even before she arrived on the landing, Nikita knew what she would find. Nothing. Just then she heard Birkhoff in her comlink.
"Time's up, Nikita. Did you find Michael?"
"No," Nikita whispered, blinking back tears. "He's gone."
There was a long moment of silence, then Birkhoff spoke. "Time's up."
The moment the Nikita stepped out of the van, Operations and Madeline were waiting for her. They whisked her off to Madeline's office, then began firing questions at her. Questions that Nikita couldn't answer.
She glared at Operations. "Look, I told you. Trigger Larsen was dead when we arrived. Michael took one look and told me it was a set up, then ordered the team to abort. I headed out, he wasn't following me, so I told him to come on. He told me to go ahead, he's be right behind me. But he wasn't." Nikita hung her head. She blamed herself for not waiting for him.
Madeline smiled as she watched Nikita, but her smile was grim. "Did Michael say anything else? Anything at all?"
"No." Nikita heaved a sigh of frustration. "We all know how talkative Michael is," she countered, her voice oozing sarcasm. "However, I did get the feeling that he...I don't know...sensed something. Maybe...someone. Instinct, maybe...since I know Michael doesn't believe in intuition."
That was all that Operations needed to hear. He locked eyes with Madeline. "I want Trackers sent out immediately. I want Michael found."
Nikita was more than a little surprised by the vehemence in Operation's tone. He actually appeared concerned. Anxious even, and she said as much. "You really are worried about Michael, aren't you?"
"Get on it now," Was all that Ops said, and that was directed at Madeline. He did, however, glare at Nikita, before exiting the room.
"Interesting.." Nikita murmured.
Madeline heard her. "What is?" she questioned.
Nikita turned to lock eyes with the other woman. "When you and I, supposedly, rescued Michael nine months ago, Operations considered him an acceptable loss. Why is this time different?"
"What makes you think that he was an acceptable loss?" Madeline countered, then she waited for Nikita's reaction.
"I don't get you people!" the beautiful blond snapped. She was so tired of the head games.
Madeline offered a cold smile. "Try harder," she advised. "You're one of *us* now, Nikita." And, with that, Madeline left the room to do Operation's bidding.
Nikita was knew she was making Walter nervous with her pacing, but she couldn't help it. Operations had refused to allow her on one of the tracking teams, so she was stuck at Section, waiting for news on Michael. Twenty-four hours had passed and so far they had nothing.
"Do you think they'll find him?" Nikita asked bluntly, as she stopped pacing to confront walter.
He put down the tiny soddering iron he had been using and sighed. "They won't stop looking till they do, sugar," he replied, hoping to reassure her with his smile.
It didn't work. "Do they even know where to look?" Nikita countered, rubbing at her temples to ease the pain that throbbed there.
"They have a few ideas," Walter allowed, knowing that he shouldn't have said even that much. "But that's all I know," he said firmly.
"Thanks, Walter," Nikita told him, stepping forward to brush a kiss against his weathered cheek. It was then that she noticed that his eyes were shining. "You really care about Michael, don't you?" Nikita questioned.
Walter grinned. "Michael is a good kid," he admitted. "I kinda watched him grow up here."
NIkita was intrigued by this little tidbit of Michael's past. "Oh?" She replied, hoping to prod Walter into revealing more.
"Nice try," he admonished, shaking a finger at her. "All you need to know about Michael is that he's special. Like you are, sugar." And his meaning was perfectly clear.
"Don't go there, Walter," Nikita whispered. For she wasn't ready to, not by a long shot. Offering a sad smile, Nikita turned and walked away.
Michael drifted through layers of darkness that shaded to gray, then finally to a bright white that made him blink. When he was able to open his eyes and focus, he found himself in a large room with gray walls. There were no window, just a door, and no furnishings except for a table, and the chair he was sitting on. Shifting his weight, Michael discovered that his wrists were bound to the arms of the chair, his ankles to the legs. His field gear was gone, leaving him in trousers, boots and a black tank top. The air was warm and humid.
"Hello Michael," said a deep voice. A man dressed in black silk pants and a beige sweater moved to kneel before the chair. He smiled. "My name is Salvador. How do you feel?"
There was a long moment of silence as Michael said nothing. He simply stared at the man, trying to place him. The name seemed familiar, but not the face. It was a hard face, with dark eyes that glittered like chips of black ice. But the voice was warm, offering compassion. Michael knew better than to trust it. He knew all the games. So he remained silent.
Salvador sighed, then gestured to the table. "Would you like some water?" he offered. "You must be thirsty." He waited for a reply and received the same, stony, silence. So be it. "Do you know who I am?" he queried.
"Red cell," MIchael whispered. But that was all he said. It was in that moment that he had placed the name.
"Excellent!" Salvador was pleased. He rose to his feet and moved to the table to pour himself a glass of cool water. He watched Michael as he drank, knowing that he had to be parched, but the young man didn't even blink. That pleased Salvador as well. "The file I have on you is impressive beyond belief, Michael," he said, moving once more to stand in from of the operative. "I was hoping that you would...indeed...live up to it, and I'm glad not to be disappointed. I love a challenge." Salvador crouched again, to lock eyes with Michael. "I know the torture that my brother subjected you to during our little...War. He was very impressed with you, Michael. He even admitted to me that he would have broken under such torture, had he been in your place. Your tolerance for pain is remarkable. You bend, but don't break." Salvador reached out to brush his fingertips against Michael's face. When he turned away, Salvador tangled his fingers in the thick hair, holding Michael's head still. The humidity had made the dark strands curl and Salvador guessed that the curl was the bane of Michael's existance. He smiled again, revealing perfect, white teeth. "How aptly named you are....Michael. A powerful, beautiful...dark angel."
Michael's only response was to blink.
Salvador tightened his fingers in Michael's hair, knowing that he was causing pain, but the other man's expression never changed. There wasn't even a flicker of reaction in the cool, green eyes. "You have a gift, Michael," Salvador continued. "The ability to detach yourself from your emotions. To become a machine. But I know that the emotions are still there. I can see them in your eyes. But you control them. Mind over matter, Michael."
That Salvador's words hit home was not easy for Michael to hide, but he held the mask in place. He wouldn't let this man get inside his head. Madeline had tried often, and failed. Salvador would not succeed either.
"We share this gift, Michael," Salvador continued. His fingers suddenly relaxed in the soft hair, combing through the silky strands like a caress as he whispered, "Did you know that there is a fine line between pain...and pleasure? Between ecstasy...and torture?" Salvador laughed softly. "It's a line that I know well. I think you know it too."
Michael looked away then, unwilling to let the other man see that his words had hit home. Michael walked that line with NIkita...everyday. He heard Salvador laugh, then felt the other man's fingers move to his face. They traced his jawline, then moved down over his throat to brush across his collarbone. Michael didn't react. Not even when those fingers glided over his chest. He could guess at what Salvador was trying to do. At Section it was standard training that in any given situation, the enemy could try manipulation through sexuality. Using the body and the mind as a means to off-balance judgement. Michael could almost smile at Salvador's attempt. The man was wasting his time. Michael didn't scare easily. Nor did he believe that Salvador would follow through. So he waited, unblinking and unmoving.
Salvador smiled to himself, able to guess MIchael's thoughts. His fingers were still gliding over the young man's chest. Michael's emotional and psychological strength, showed in his eyes...if you looked for it. His physical strength was blatantly obvious, revealed by the sculptered lines and curves of smooth skin over rock-hard muscle. Salvador leaned in close, to whisper in Michael's ear, "You have the face of an angel and the body of a Greek god. Like one of those exquisite statues." Salvador pulled back to study Michael's face. Still no reaction. So he continued. "The human body is quite amazing..don't you think? It fascinates me. It's so complex yet so....simple. We manipulate it without conscious thought, yet it's completely connected to our minds. Which ties in to our thoughts and our feelings." Salvador broke off abruptly, rising smoothly to his feet, to stand over his prisoner. "I'm not going to kill you," he drawled, and was pleased to see a flicker of response in the young man's eyes.
His eyes shimmering like frosted ice, Michael turned his head to lock eyes with Salvador. The man had surprised him. Michael had been certain that he was fated for torture and death. But still he said nothing. He simply waited.
"I'm sure that you would prefer death," Salvador commented, moving back a few steps to lean against the table. "But I have other plans for you, Michael. You see, Section One considers you to be their most valuable operative." Salvador broke off when he saw another flicker of reaction in Michael's cool eyes. That pleased him. The young operative had *doubts* about Section One. Wonderful. "My guess is that you're being groomed to take Operations place in the future. That's quite an honor...don't you think?" There was no response this time, so Salvador sighed, then continued. "I intend to make you mine, Michael. Mind...body...and soul." As he spoke, Salvador once again moved to kneel before his captive. He locked eyes with Michael and his own glittered with anticipation. "Once you belong to me....You will become the means by which I bring Section One to it's knees."
Michael closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them and they were devoid of any expression. "In your dreams," he whispered.
Salvador laughed as he reached out to trail one fingertip along the curve of Michael's cheek. "Oh no," he countered softly. "In your dreams, Michael. Or should I say....your nightmares."
Madeline watched Operations pace the length of the conference room and back again. She sat at the table, with Birkhoff and Nikita. Madeline had never seen Operations so anxious, not even when they had been at War. She had tried, several times, to draw him out, but he was keeping something from her. She didn't like it.
Ops glared at Birkhoff. "Anything on Michael?" he snapped.
Birkhoff swallowed hard, then shook his head. "We've got teams out twenty-hour...seven. Nothing."
"FIND HIM!" Operations shouted. Then he stalked out of the room.
Nikita looked over at Madeline, wishing she could mainain the other woman's calm demeanor. But her stomach was twisted into knots. She didn't know that her eyes asked a question.
But Madeline saw it, and answered. "We will find Michael," she said softly. Then she, too, left the room.
"Birkhoff?" Nikita held out a hand to stop the young man when he would have followed.
"What?" he hissed, impatiently. Birkhoff wasn't angry at Nikita. He was just...angry. And he didn't know how to let off the steam.
Nikita offered a smile. She understood what he was feeling. She also knew that Birkhoff had strong feelings for Michael. She knew that MIchael watched over the young man, like a guardian...or a big brother. Now Nikita wanted to offer him comfort. "Michael can take care of himself," she said softly. As much as a reminder to Birkhoff, as to herself.
Birkhoff nodded. "I know," he said shortly. Then he turned and ran out of the room.
"Don't disappoint me, Michael," Nikita whispered, as she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Then she sat that watching shadows fill the room as darkness fell and another day passed. And still no news of Michael.
************
Five days had passed. And during the course of those five days, Salvador did his best to break Michael's steel control. He had a plan. To make Michael an addict. And so he injected him with heroin. Salvador knew how strong Michael's resistance was, so he pumped him full enough to put him in hell within two days. And he didn't let up. Every second of Michael's existance was agony. And during that time, when Michael was shaking, curled up in the corner, sheened in sweat and gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. When he was shuddering from the dry heaves that wracked his body until he coughed up blood, that's when Salvador would try to unbalance Michael.
"I can make the pain stop, Michael," he would whisper, reaching out to smooth back the sweat-soaked hair.
Michael would hear him through the haze of pain that had become his existance. Would hear the warmth in the deep voice, or the comfort offered in the hand that touched him. But he wouldn't give in. A part of him wanted to, a part deep inside of him that could no longer bear the pain. But Michael refused to give control to that part of himself. He would glare at Salvador through eyes bleared with unshed tears, and then he would pull away from the touch and try to curl tighter into himself.
Salvador would sigh and turn away. Then he would give Michael another injection, then wait. And then he would try again, offering freedom from the pain. This time, however, he knelt beside Michael and was silent for a long time, simply watching the young man. After a time he felt his own muscles twitch in sympathy as he watched Michael's body spasm with pain. Watched him sit huddled in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chin, head down on his knees and his forearms bleeding from where Michael's fingernails had pierced his own flesh in his efforts to resist the pain. He suffered in silence. Not a whimper or a moan escaped him. Nor did he speak one word, or beg for the agony to end.
"I want the pain to stop, Michael," Salvador whispered, as he reached out with one hand to tangle his fingers in the limp hair. He smoothed it back so he could brush his fingertips against Michael's cheek. Salvador stroked the sweat-sheened skin in a soothing gesture as he spoke. "It would be so simple for me to make it stop," he said, his fingers now stroking Michael's temple. "All you have to do is ask. Ask me to stop the pain, Michael. That's all it will take." Salvador knew that if the young man did ask for him to stop the pain, then his will would have been broken and Salvador would be able to begin to break his body, then his mind. And then to mold Michael into the means by which to destroy Section One. "Why are you so loyal to the Section, Michael?" Salvador asked, and it was a question that he sincerely wanted the answer to.
Michael heard the words, but they didn't make sense to him. They were sounds that seemed to echo in his head. Sometimes they were soft, other times they screeched in his mind and made him wince. And sometimes he heard laughter, like a quick-silver melody that danced in his head. And with the laughter came an image of blond hair, blue eyes and a smile that made his heart beat faster. Nikita.....
Salvador watched as Michael's head lifted for a moment, and he saw a flicker in the green eyes that made him wish that he could know Michael's thoughts. For in that moment he saw into the depths of the young man's soul and he saw the flames of hell, yet within darkness was a light that seemed almost luminous....and pure. But in the blink of an eye the light faded and Michael's head fell back down to his knees. Salvador sighed and moved his hand to stroke the nape of Michael's neck, his fingers kneading into the tense muscles, that were knotted against the waves of neverending pain. Salvador continued his mental assault, using all that he had learned from Michael's file.
"Operation's has used you, Michael," he whispered. "Time and time again. He manipulates you and your emotions. He wants a machine, Michael. And that's what you've become. That's what Ops had made you. It started with Simone. He let you believe that she was dead for three years. And, before that....he killed your son. You know he did. And in response, you withdrew from your emotions...from your soul. You built a wall that no one could penetrate. No one except..." Here Salvador paused for a moment, then said, "Nikita."
At the sound of her name, Michael twitched. But that was all. Whatever else he was feeling was internal, and Michael felt himself drifting into a haze of darkness as the image of Nikita shimmered before him. He closed his eyes and didn't realize that tears trickled down his face.
But Salvador saw it...and smiled.
Nikita tossed and turned as dreams pervaded her consciouness. She was trapped in the memories of when she had been tortured by Red Cell, and the rats had chewed at her face. And then there was the image of Michael. He had been a calm in the tempest of their captivity. And when he had been tortured, Nikita had truly seen his strength, even as she had tasted the bitterness of his betrayal. But after it was all over, she had come to the realization that Michael had done what he'd had to do.
At the time, it had felt as if no one had existed in the world except for the two of them. But the lives of hundreds of Section One operatives had been at stake. And Michael had been sent in to protect them. Nikita's worst nightmare now was the memory of her own betrayal. For the sake of Michael's sanity, she had betrayed Section by revealing their secret location. That Section had wanted the location revealed didn't matter. Nikita hadn't known that at the time. She had, willingly, thrown away the lives of hundreds to save just one. Michael.
And now he was gone. No sign of him and almost a week had passed. Nikita broke out of her dreams and sat up in bed, her heart pounding. She wiped away the tears that rolled down her face and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Please come back, Michael," she whispered, both loving him and hating him, in that moment. Nikita couldn't justify her feelings...she knew only that if Michael was well and truly lost to them, then she would no longer have a reason to go on living. And the truth of that frightened Nikita more than anything else could.
Michael awoke screaming Nikita's name until his voice became a hoarse whisper. He then began rocking himself and whimpering. When his cell door opened, Michael didn't even blink in the sudden wash of bright light as Salvador entered the room.
"Shhhh...." the other man whispered, moving forward swiftly to kneel beside Michael. He knew that the moment he had been waiting for had finally come. Michael had broken. His soul was shattered, and Salvador was ready to sweep up the pieces. He smiled as he reached out and stroked Michael's hair. "It's all right now," Salvador whispered. "I'm here, Michael. And I'll stop the pain. That's what you want...isn't it? For the pain to stop?"
"No....more..." Michael whimpered. "No....more." Tears flowed down his face as he continued to rock.
Salvador stood up slowly. "No more," he replied. "It's over now, Michael. No more pain," he promised. "I'm gonna take you to a nice room with a soft bed. And you can rest and get better. Stronger." As he spoke, Salvador gestured for the guard to enter the cell. He was a big man and would easily be able to carry Michael from the cell to the house, where comfort and freedom from pain awaited the young man.
As the guard reached down for Michael, there was a sudden blur of movement and then the sound of a gunshot. The guard toppled over, dead. And Salvador stared in stunned disbelief as Michael rose to his feet, pointing the guard's weapon at him. He was furious, yet impressed. Salvador knew that Michael's suffering was genuine, for he had inflicted it with his own hands. Yet the Section One operative stood before him, eyes cold and hand steady, even though pain shimmered in the cool, green depths and his pale skin was sheened with sweat. "You're very good," Salvador drawled, backing up a step.
Michael followed him. He didn't say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. They revealed pain, determination and cruelty.
"What now?" Salvador questioned, for he saw death in Michael's eyes as well. "Do you kill me? Won't do you any good, Michael. You won't escape. Not with all my guards around. You'll never get out of here." A moment later Salvador screamed in agony as a bullet slammed into his left kneecap. But the sceam ended abruptly, after a swift kick to his head rendered him unconscious.
"Never say never," MIchael whispered as he stepped over Salvador's inert form. Then he slipped out the cell with the stealth of a shadow.
Nikita sat on the edge of the couch in Madeline's office, watching Operation's pace. Madeline watched him as well, not saying a word. Nikita had never seen the man so on edge before, and it amazed her that he would show a crack in his facade, especially in front of her. And over Michael, no less. But those thoughts disappeared as the doors to Madeline's office drifted open. Nikita stared at the man who entered and she felt herself grow pale. With her heart pounding in her chest, Nikita whispered his name, "Michael..."
************
Michael felt all eyes upon him, although Nikita's was the gaze that burned into him. He looked at her for a moment, not moving...barely breathing...then she was in his arms and Michael felt as if his heart would pound out of his chest.
"Are you all right?" Nikita whispered in his ear, as her arms tightened about him. She could feel that he was thinner, and that he was trembling, slightly. She could also feel how stiffly he was holding himself. Not as if to keep her away from him, for Michael's arms were tight about her, but as if to steel himself. And Nikita could almost feel the pain he was in. It brought tears to her eyes.
"I'm fine," Michael whispered back. It was his standard answer. The one he had long ago programmed into himself. The only answer he had been able to allow himself to believe after his son, and then Simone, had died. Michael wouldn't even think of how it related to Nikita and what he had done to her...and to himself.
Madeline was moving forward to seperate them. Not because she was afraid to let Michael and Nikita be together, but because there were questions that needed answers. And Michael looked as if he needed to sit down. Of course, he wouldn't sit, so Madeline hovered beside him, in case he should collapse. She knew Michael well, and looking into his eyes, she could guess as to what had been done to him. An effective technique. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice husky with emotion, in spite of her training.
Michael looked at her and was surprised to see genuine emotion shining in Madeline's dark eyes. She was worried about him. But whether or not her concern was for Michael the person, or Michael the operative, he couldn't be certain. Nor did he care. "I was captured by Salvador," he whispered. And the name echoed in the sudden silence that filled the room.
Operations had been studying Michael, and saw before him a man who was walking in hell. He wanted to give Michael a break, but he couldn't, so he got in his face. "Where is he?" Ops listened as Michael explained where he had been held. "Send a team," Ops ordered Madeline.
"You know he won't be there," Michael said softly.
"I know," Operations allowed. "But we might find something useful."
Michael shook his head slightly, as he locked eyes with the older man. "You won't," he said firmly. "The only thing that Salvador will leave behind is the stain of his blood."
Nikita frowned at that cryptic remark. "Michael....is Salvador dead?" she asked, even as she wondered who the man was. It was obvious that Operations and Madeline knew of him.
"No," Michael replied. He didn't look at Nikita. His eyes never left Operation's face. "Salvador is alive." Michael saw a half-smile curve Ops' lips. A satisfied smile.
"What else can you tell us?" Operations demanded.
Michael sighed, too softly to hear. His soul was weary. "He wants to destroy Section One." Michael glanced over at Madeline, and saw her flinch. That almost made him smile. The War wasn't over, he whispered in his mind, knowing that THAT was what she was thinking.
Operation's pale eyes glittered. "He won't get the chance!" he hissed. Then he caught his breath and reached out, for in that moment, Michael collapsed. No word or warning. The young man simply folded. Operations looked down at Nikita, who had caught Michael and now sat on the floor with his inert body propped up against her.
Madeline was reaching for the phone to call Medlab. Her eyes were on Michael as well. He was in a bad way, and she sensed that most of the fight had gone out of him. Not surprising. Michael had been severely tortured, twice, in less than six months. Anyone else would have died the first time. Madeline sensed that Michael might be willing to let go of living...this time. Nikita...or no Nikita. And the thought frightened her.
Nikita wasn't thinking any of those things as she rocked Michael in her arms. She simply blinked through her tears and thanked god that Michael had come back.
Three days had passed and the agony had just begun. Or so it seemed. Michael's unconscious state had not lasted very long. And then the bouts of severe withdrawal had begun. Nikita's eyes were red rimmed from weeping. She hadn't been able to hold back as she had watched Michael suffer. Watched his body spasm with wave after wave of pain, then tremble after a bout of wretching and dry heaves. When he had coughed up blood she had turned pale, certain that he was going to die. But she hadn't left his side....wouldn't...not even when he begged her too. And that had been the only time that Michael had spoken. No whimpers or moans of pain. Just deadly silence. Only his eyes had revealed his suffering. Nikita remembered those eyes from before. Michael hadn't made a sound then, when they had been in their cages. Nikita knew his physical torture had been far more severe than her own, but Michael had remained immune to the pain. Or so she had believed.
"Nikita..." Michael whispered her name, forcing the sound out of a raw throat.
"I'm here," she said, reaching for his hand. Nikita blinked back tears when she felt Michael's fingers curl around hers. They trembled slightly and were sheened with sweat, but they were still strong.
Michael forced himself to breath deeply, pushing back the nausea and the pain that seemed to be a part of him now. "Why?" he asked, his eyes blurry, but focusing on her face.
Nikita wasn't sure she understood what he was asking. "Why...what?" she countered, reaching out with her free hand to smooth a lock of dark hair off his forehead. He was so pale that it frightened her, but Madeline assured her that Michael would pull through.
"Why....bother?" Michael replied, and the effort exhausted him. So much so that he drifted into blackness...a blessed respite from the pain...and didn't hear Nikita's reply.
"Oh...Michael," she whispered and her tears fell once more.
Operations sent Nikita on a mission, so she was away from Section, and Michael, for three days. The moment she returned she headed for Medlab, but Michael wasn't there. Nikita was more than a little surprised to discover him in his office, working at his computer. She stood in the door way, watching him. Her eyes checking him over and mirroring concern to see how much thinner he was and how pale. When his eyes lifted from his monitor to look at her, Nikita saw dark shadows beneath them and her heart contracted painfully. He shouldn't have been out of Medlab. "What are you doing here, Michael?" Nikita asked, slipping into the room and dropping into the chair across from him.
"I have alot of catching up to do," he replied softly. That was all. Michael waited for Nikita to continue.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
Michael's eyes flickered back to the monitor, but he saw only the image of Nikita's beautiful face. "I'm fine," he lied.
Nikita knew it for a lie and accepted it. Michael wasn't ready to cross that hurdle yet. To face his demons. But she was ready. "I have something to say to you," she began.
"What is it?" Michael prompted. He felt anxious in her presence and he didn't want to think about why.
"I wanted to say....I'm sorry," Nikita replied. Then she waited for Michael's reaction. It was swift in coming.
Michael's eyes flickered, mirroring his surprise. "Sorry..." he repeated, his gaze returning to Nikita's face. "Sorry for what?" he questioned.
Nikita offered a sad smile. "For betraying Section."
"I don't understand," Michael confessed.
"It's very simple, Michael," Nikita countered, with a soft sigh. "When we were being tortured, when Red Cell was going to fill your mind with madness.." Here she broke off for a moment, finding the memories of that moment pressing down upon her, like a suffocating weight. But Nikita swallowed hard and continued. She had to say this...for herself more than for Michael. "I forgot about everyone and everything but you," Nikita confessed. "I couldn't bear the thought of you broken and out of control. I know how much being in control means to you, Michael," she whispered. "And I gave up the location of Section...I betrayed the lives of all our operatives...to save you."
Michael shook his head, hating to see the pain that shimmered in Nikita's beautiful eyes. And to hear the remorse that deepened her voice. "No..." he began.
But Nikita cut him off with the wave of one hand. "Oh..I know that it was just a set-up, Michael. But I didn't know that at the time of my...confession. And nothing that you could say changes that fact. It's something that I have to live with." As Nikita spoke, she felt anger wash over her, followed by relief. The smile that she directed at Michael was like a ray of sunshine. "A part of me is sorry for what I did, but another part of me isn't. And I'd do it again....to save you." As Nikita made this admission, she felt as if the weight was suddenly lifted off of her and she could breathe again. She had been trying so hard to deny her feelings for Michael, that confessing them made her feel...free. It didn't matter that she knew that he couldn't...wouldn't...do the same.
"Nikita..." Michael whispered her name, then was silent for a long moment. It wasn't until he felt her move to kneel beside him that he was ready to say what needed to be said. Reaching out, he let his fingers tangle in her pale hair. "You've forgiven yourself," Michael told her, and he was glad. When Nikita nodded he said, "Do me a favor?"
"If I can," Nikita replied, as she felt his palm cup her cheek and she leaned into his warm strength.
Michael sighed, pulled his hand away, then stood up. "Don't ever forgive me, Nikita," he whispered. Then he stepped around her and left the room.
Nikita remained on her knees for a moment, her eyes closed, and tried to hold on to the image of Michael's face. The look in his eyes as he had spoken. She had seen the pain that shimmered in his green gaze and it touched her heart. Now if only she could touch his soul.
Three more days passed and Michael returned to active status. Operations was pleased, and was heading for home after reading Michael's report on his first mission since returning. It had been a success, and now Ops was ready to go home for some much needed sleep. He slipped behind the wheel of his mercedes and was more than a little surprised when he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed behind his ear. Then a familiar voice...Michael's voice.
"We're going for a little drive." As Michael spoke, his eyes glittered like jade ice.
"Where?" Ops asked, even as he turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear.
Michael pressed the gun hard into Operation's flesh until the other man flinched. "North," he replied. Then he smiled.
Nikita was just entering Section, when Birkhoff nearly collided with her. "Whoa," she shouted, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
The young man glared at her. "Haven't you heard?" he hissed.
"Heard what?" Nikita asked, frowning as she realized that Birkhoff's eyes glimmered with anxiety. She had never seen him so upset.
"Operations is missing. So is Michael." As Birkhoff delivered the news, he watched Nikita's expression. She was stunned, to say the least.
Nikita grabbed Birkhoff's arm. "Where's Madeline?"
"Right here, Nikita," said the other woman. She had approached silently.
"What's going on?" Nikita demanded, as she turned around to face the other woman.
Madeline locked eyes with Nikita and told the truth. "I don't know."
Operations walked before Michael. His hands were cuffed behind him, for Michael was no fool, and he was blinded by the hood Michael had pulled over his head, once they had reached the airport. Michael had flown them to the middle of nowhere, in small two-seater aircraft.
"Stop," Michael ordered, yanking on Operation's arm. He pulled off the hood then stepped back. The expression on the other man's face was priceless as Operations locked eyes with Salvador.
"Welcome to my humble abode, old friend," Salvador drawled, moving towards them with a limp. And he leaned heavily on a cane, thanks to Michael's handy work. But he could forgive the young man for his actions. He had redeemed himself by delivering Operation's to him now.
Operations stared at Salvador for a moment, then he turned to lock eyes with Michael. "Why?" was all he asked.
Michael didn't answer. He simply stared back at him.
Salvador was delighted. He shook a finger at Operations. "Come now, old friend. Did you honestly think that you could keep pushing Michael and manipulating him, and he wouldn't go over the edge?"
"I guess not," Operations drawled, his eyes still on Michael. But then he glanced over at Salvador. A man he had once called *friend*. But that seemed like a hundred years ago. "So...what now?" he asked.
"Interesting question," Salvador acknowledged. "I could kill you, but that seems like such a waste."
Operations smirked. "Killing me changes nothing, Sally," he said softly. "You have the directory?" he countered, abruptly.
Salvador laughed, even as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a microchip, which he held up for Operations to see. "The original," he said proudly. "I bought it from Harding long before you negotiated with him in Prague." As he spoke, Salvador looked at Michael. The young man's face was like a beautiful, carved mask. No expression, but the green eyes glittered. "What about you, Michael?" he asked, limping towards him. "What do you think we should do?"
Michael didn't react as Salvador's fingers tangled in his hair. He felt Operation's eyes upon him, and his own shaded to gray as he glanced over at the man who was his mentor. A smile curved his lips.
Operations saw the smile and shivered. "Bad enough that you've betrayed me, Michael!" he hissed. "Don't even think about betraying Section. They're your family."
"A family that lies to him and manipulates him," Salvador interjected, as his fingers slid to Michael's face. "You're the one who has been betrayed," he whispered, his eyes locking with the younger man's. "What do you want to do, Michael? Tell me. Section will fall...I will see to that. But what do you want from Operations?"
"Redemption," Michael whispered, and his voice was hoarse with emotion.
Salvador was pleased. "Kill him," he entreatied, closing his fingers over the gun that rested in Michael's hand. For it was the ultimate irony in Salvador's eyes, that Michael should be the one to spill Operation's blood.
Michael blinked, then stepped away from Salvador. He moved towards Operations and lifted his gun till it was pressed against the other man's forehead. Then he looked into the pale blue eyes, searching for the truth. What he saw made Michael shudder. But then he closed his eyes as he felt Salvador's presence behind him.
Operation's didn't flinch. He simply waited.
"This is for Simone," Michael whispered, as his finger closed over the trigger. Then, in the second before the bullet discarged, Michael turned and his aim shifted. It was Salvador who cried out as the bullet impacted in his skull. But the sound was abrupt, for he was dead before he hit the floor. Michael bent over him and pulled the microchip from the limp fingers. Then he stepped over the body to unlock the handcuff's and free Operations.
"Give me the directory, Michael," were the first words out of the other man's mouth.
Michael looked at him for a moment, unmoving, then he shook his head. "No," he whispered. The gun in his hand fell to the floor, then he turned and began to walk away.
Operations was stunned, but swift to react. He snatched up the gun and pointed it at the young operative's retreating back. "MICHAEL!" he shouted. When the other man kept walking he said, "Don't." He watched as Michael stopped, but didn't turn around.
There was a moment of silence that echoed heavily between them, and time seemed to stand still. But then the moment was gone and Michael began walking away again.
Operations lowered the gun and sighed.
Madeline sat her desk and looked at Operations who was pacing the perimeter of the rug. Silence had rippled between them for several minutes as she tried to assimilate everything that he had told her. Such as the fact that the mission to get Trigger Larsen had been a trap...of sorts. That right from the beginning, Michael had been set up as the bait to lure Salvador. And that his being captured, released, and consequently his *kidnapping* of Ops had all been a part of an elaborate plan known only to Operations and Michael.
"So," Madeline began, breaking the silence. "You ordered Michael to allow himself to be captured and tortured, for the second time in less than four months, just so you could get to Salvador?" she queried.
"More or less," Operations allowed. There was so much more to the story that he couldn't tell her. More even than Michael knew, and he had trusted the young man to keep his secret. So far, so good. But, then again, Operations hadn't spoken to Michael about what had happened since they had returned. Nor had they discussed it on the journey home. A journey that had been made in virtual silence.
Madeline was angry, for two reasons. "You've pushed Michael too far!" she hissed, her dark eyes flashing.
Operations sighed. He had known this was coming. "Michael is strong. He'll survive."
"Everyone has a breaking point," Madeline countered, derisively. "Even Michael." She paused to consider, then added, "Especially Michael."
"Meaning what?" Ops challenged.
But Madeline wasn't willing to enlighten him. She changed gears and demanded, "Why didn't you trust me?"
Operations stopped pacing to confront her, and his eyes glittered like chips of pale-blue ice. "Never doubt that I trust you," he told her, his voice hushed. "But there are things that you don't need to know."
"You told Michael," Madeline pointed out, rather spitefully.
"Not all of it," Operations countered harshly. Then his eyes softened. "I did what I had to do, Madeline. You know that."
She did know it, so she let him off the hook. For now. But there was one more issue they needed to address. "Michael has the directory?"
Operations nodded. "Yes...he does."
"And?" Madeline prompted.
"Let it go," Operations told her. Then he exited the room.
Nikita hadn't seen Michael since he had returned with Operations two days ago. She didn't know much about what had happened, only what Madeline had told her, and the others, in Section. That Michael and Operations had been on a *top priority* mission and that was all she, or anyone else, needed to know. It was back to business for Section One. So now Nikita found herself standing in the doorway of Michael's office. Usually he was seated at his desk, but this time he stood at the window and Nikita guessed that he was staring out at nothing. She glided in and stood there watching him for a long moment. But then the silence grew heavy and Nikita had to ask, "Are you all right, Michael?"
Without thinking he replied, "No."
"Thank you," Nikita shot back, and her voice was husky with emotion.
"For what?" Michael countered, turning to look at her. He was surprised to see tears shimmering in Nikita's beautiful eyes.
She offered him a smile, that only shook a little. "For telling me the truth," Nikita said, then she walked out.
Michael stood staring at the place where she had been for a long moment, then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a microchip. The Directory. Clutching it tightly in his hand, Michael whispered back, "You're welcome."
THE END
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