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. ~RAID~ It was a six man mission. Michael and Nikita stood side by side with four other operatives, just inside the heavy, chain link fence they had just cut through. The fence surrounded the fortress, which was the most accurate description for the place, that Anthony Tazio called home. Michael checked his watch. They had a ten minute window before the chopper arrived to take them out. Anyone who wasn't at the rendevous point would be left behind. Their mission was to get inside the house, blast open the safe in the office and get the micro-chip that Tazio had in his keeping. A chip that belonged to the government. Which government....didn't matter. What did matter, to Michael, was that everyone did their job, carefully. This was a suicide mission. Madeline and Operations had made that perfectly clear. Michael didn't care so much for himself. But he wanted Nikita to be safe. "Spread out!" Michael ordered, his eyes moving to Nikita's face. "Be alert and remained focused on our goal. Don't think about the chopper...think about getting that chip." Michael was point on this one, but everyone has a plastique charge on them. If Michael went down, then it would be up to the next man to get the micro-chip. Nikita saw the anxiety that glimmered in Michael's eyes. He was worried, and letting it show. That wasn't like him, so Nikita realized that this mission was of the utmost importance. She smiled at him, before pulling her mask down. Michael nodded, but didn't return the smile. He pulled down his own mask, then gestured for everyone to move out. Nikita headed south...Michael east. He was making a beeline for the backside of the manor. That's where Tazio's office was. Michael had the schematics memorized and knew that the quickest way in would be through the kitchen. The yard area was too open and too well lit, for Michael to go directly to the terrace doors of the office. He was only thankful that it was located on the first floor. Unfortunately, the entire grounds between the fence and the house were heavily guarded, and patroled by dobermans. Each operative carried a small tranquilizer gun for the dogs. The people they were simply take out. Michael could almost smile at the irony in that. He searched for the other operatives, and saw them fading into the shadows, as he was. But he should have known...did know....that it wouldn't be easy. Two guards suddenly appeared before Michael, but they were dead before they could speak. He then continued on. But he hadn't gotten two steps when all hell broke loose. He heard one of the operatives cry out as he was shot down, and then there was a blast of gunfire, and more screams. The flood lights came on in full force. Michael realized that a back up alarm had come on, once they had cut through the fence. Time was against them now, as were the odds of survival. But he pushed both thoughts aside as he moved forward. Two dogs appeared and Michael tranquilized them. They were followed by four guards. Three went down with precision. The fourth got off a clean shot in the chest and Michael went down. But when the guard came to stand over him, Michael delivered a debilitating kick to the groin, and as the man fell to his knees, Michael shot him. Back at Section, Operations and Madeline stood behind Birkhoff. They couldn't see what was happening, but they could hear it. They knew that two operatives were down, and that it wasn't looking good for the others to reach the house. Ops turned to look at Madeline, who nodded. They had to get that Micro-chip. Placing one hand to the comlink that he wore, Ops said, "Shoot Nikita." On the receiving end of the order was one of the operatives on the team at Tazio's house. He was on a different channel from Michael and the others. When he received the order, he came out of hiding, just enough so he could scope out Michael and Nikita's locations. He smiled to himself as he realized how accurate Ops had been. He'd told him to shoot Nikita in front of Michael. Not so that Michael was near her, per se, but so that he saw it. And Michael just happened to be in viewing distance as the order went out. The operative took aim...then fired. Michael heard, as well as saw, Nikita go down. Her cry of pain ripped through him, and his first instinct was to run to her. But he knew that he couldn't. But that was his only, conscious, thought. Everything else was emotion. Michael felt rage erupt into fury, then he shifted into machine mode. But at a level that was so intense, that his eyes seemed to haze red...blood red. Ripping off his mask, Michael moved towards the house, his eyes cold, his face expressionless. Any guard foolish enough to confront him went down. It was as if Michael had suddenly developed a sixth sense about them. And he was unrelenting. He had one goal in mind. Get the chip then get Nikita. He had to accomplish the first, to do the other. He didn't even realize that he was like the Terminator, from the movie of the same name. Michael took out another guard, then he felt white-hot pain in his left shoulder as a bullet ripped into his flesh. It shook him, but didn't slow him down. He made it to the house and didn't bother with the kitchen entrance. Michael went directly to the terrace doors of Tazio's office and peppered them with bullets. They shattered, then he stepped inside. The safe was behind a moutain lanscape. Michael ran to it, pressed the charge to the metal, then stepped back. He pressed the detonator in his hand and there was a loud *bang*. The door swung open and Michael reached inside for the small box. He knew that it contained the chip. He dropped it in the zippered pocket of the small pouch at his waist, then turned and ran out of the room. He took two more guards down and heard the sounds of gunfire in his link as he ran. Now he had to reach Nikita. Michael didn't even stop to consider the fact that she was probably dead. That didn't matter. He was taking her back. Even as Michael ran towards the front yard, there was a glimmer of light in the sky. He blinked at it. The chopper was early. Michael cursed then ran faster, only to fall to his knees a moment later as a bullet brushed his temple. He felt pain, then darkness washed over him, but Michael refused to let go of conciousness. He gritted his teeth, wiped blood out of his eyes, then rose to his feet. Nikita was twenty yards away. Nearby to where the chopper would land. Michael was determined to get there first. But the chopper was quicker and lowered itself in front of Nikita, cutting Michael off from her. He moved to go around and found the remaining, two, operatives, on either side of him. They were determined to get him into the chopper. Michael was determined not to go. He reached for the micro chip and tossed the box into the cock pit, saw it land on the pilot's lap. "Go on!" He shouted to the other operatives. He was team leader. They would obey his orders. But they didn't. They continued to drag him towards the chopper. Michael reacted, and kicked out at the man on his left. The operative released him. When he doubled over, the bullet that would have hit him, lodged in the neck of the other man. He was dead before he hit the ground. Michael didn't care. He was free to go to Nikita. But even as he was about to move, he felt a prick in his neck. The pilot had shot him with a tranquilizer dart. As the world went dark, Michael felt hands catch him. And that was the last thing he remembered. < Section One > Operations and Madeline were waiting for Michael when he returned to Section One. A gurney and techs were also waiting, for the pilot of the chopper had radioed in that Michael had been shot in the shoulder and had a head wound. They were expecting him to be carried out of the van. He wasn't. Michael came striding out into the corridor. He was covered in blood, not all of it his. Madeline was stunned by the fire that flashed in Michael's green eyes. She had never seen him so furious, nor so out of control, still....he reigned it in. Barely. She knew the effort that it took, and what it cost him. "Do you have the micro-chip?" Ops asked. He, too, had seen Michael's fury and knew it was directed at him. The pilot came into the corridor and heard Operations' question. He held out the small box that Michael had tossed to him back at Tazio's. Operations caught it, and smiled. "Excellent work, Michael," he said. Then he gestured to the techs. "Take him to Medlab." "WHY?" Michael hissed the question out between clenched teeth. He was unaware of that fact that he was trembling, or that his skin was sheened with sweat. Michael had lost alot of blood and was slipping into shock, but his mind was no longer focused on his body. He felt no pain. Only fury. Madeline answered him, she wouldn't pretend not to understand the question. Michael knew that Operations had ordered Nikita shot. And they all knew...he knew. So no reason to lie....this time. "Your reaction to seeing Nikita shot is what enabled you to get the micro chip. Your first instinct would be to go to her, but you're a section operative first and foremost. So you did the job, you got the chip. You didn't let anyone stand in your way. The adrenaline pump from your strong emotions is what enabled you to do it. You were going to do the job, then go get Nikita." Michael closed his eyes against the memories that Madeline's words stirred up. Lisa. Intense passion had been used to get her to betray her husband. And Michael had been the one to induce, and manipulate, that passion. Now he was the one on the receiving end of the manipulation. It wasn't the first time...wouldn't be the last. But this was different. This was Nikita. "Thank you," he whispered, his eyes now opening to lock with Operations'" The older man was surprised. "For what?" he countered, his eyes probing deep into Michael's soul, but finding the way blocked. Michael's shields were back up and there was ice in his green gaze. "For reminding me of my....weakness." Michael glanced over at Madeline and knew that she understood his reference. Nikita. He looked back at Ops and added, "Of course, that will no longer be a problem. Will it?" A wave of anger, followed by grief, washed over Michael. He swayed against the impact, but locked his knees and remained grounded. "Oh....Nikita is still alive," Operations drawled, as understanding dawned. He watched Michael closely, waiting for a reaction. Testing....always testing. Michael caught his breath, but that was his only...physical...response. He carefully released the breath as he looked at Madeline to confirm. When she nodded he said, "I'll go back for her." No emotion in his voice. Just a statement. Operations shook his head. "Sorry, Michael. Nikita is an acceptable loss. Tazio can keep her." With that, Operations smiled, then turned and walked away. But he felt the heat of Michael's gaze burning into his back. Madeline could guess what Michael was thinking, what his response would be. She gestured to the techs, who moved forward to grab Michael's arms. When he started to protest, Madeline stepped forward. She held a syringe in her hand and she quickly injected him in the neck. Michael instanstly collapsed and the techs lifted him onto the gurney and wheeled him off. Madeline sighed softly, as she followed. ----------------------------------------------- Madeline was expecting Michael. Barely twenty-fours hours had passed since he had returned and had been taken to Medlab. He was supposed to be there now, but she knew that he wouldn't stay there. Michael never gave in to pain and weakness. It was one of the things that made him so valuable an operative. Regardless of what he felt, be it physical or emotional, Michael got the job done. He entered her office now, left arm held stiffly at his side. One look in his eyes and Madeline knew he was in great pain, and that he was using it to keep in motion. It was his focus. "I know what you're thinking, Michael," she said to him, as she stood up from behind her desk and moved forward to greet him. He smiled, a soft curving of his sensual lips. "Do you?" he whispered. Michael wondered. Madeline was good at her psychological games, but he knew that she hadn't quite figured him out yet. And she knew that he knew. Was aware of the fact that Michael kept changing the rules, just as she did. Madeline saw what he wanted her to see, but she used that to try and analyze him. Sometimes she came too close for comfort. Especially since Nikita had come to section. But Michael had soon adjusted to that as well. He had no choice. "Let it go, Michael," Madeline beseeched him. "Let Nikita go." "You miss her," Michael countered, his eyes locked onto Madeline's. He saw a flicker of surprise in the brown depths and it pleased him. Madeline nodded, conceeding Michael the point. He was very good at the game. Nikita used her instincts to guide her, that was her insight to people...her heart. It was the reason why she got hurt so often. But Michael was analytical in his insights of people. He wasn't cynical so much as, mistrustful. He trusted no one, himself least of all. That was why Michael survived. Why, in spite of his value to Section...and their future plans for him...they sent him out on missions that were overtly suicidal. Michael was a doer who could think on his feet and react under pressure and stress. He always got the job done. One way or another. Mistakes happened, and Michael fixed them. His own...and Nikita's. Madeline wondered if Nikita would ever figure that out. If she would get past her emotions regarding Michael, and see that she lived only because Michael kept her alive. Madeline suddenly caught herself. She was thinking of Nikita as if she were still with them. "Michael," Madeline moved closer to him and smiled when he stepped back. It was an unconscious gesture on his part. "It's better this way," she told him. "Better for who?" Michael countered. He was ready to face the consequences of his actions. He had no doubts...or regrets. Smiling, Michael moved behind Madeline's desk. From the center drawer he removed her gun, then the clip which he clicked it into place. He removed the safety, then loaded in a bullet. That done he stepped back around the desk to face her. Michael held out his hand to Madeline, the gun resting on his palm. "I am going to get Nikita back," he said softly. "There is only one way that you are going to stop me." Michael's eyes locked with Madeline's as he whispered, "Cancel me." Madeline held Michael's gaze for a moment, then she reached out to take the gun. With deliberate motions, she removed the clip, then set the weapon on the top of her desk. She didn't look at him as she said, "We all do what we have to do, Michael." That was all. That was enough. Michael closed his eyes for a minute, then he turned. But before he headed towards the door, his eyes flickered up at the second level. He almost smiled, then he strode out of the room. Operations stepped out of the shadows and stood at the rail, looking down at Madeline. "Mistakes are not an option," he hissed, his voice as cold as ice. "I know," Madeline replied. Then she heaved a sigh and silently wished Michael...godspeed. < NIKITA > Four days had passed since the raid on Tazio's house. Michael had needed a day or two to prepare. He was going back alone, and it was a suicidal mission, which he had no intention of failing. There would be no other operatives to back him up. No Birkhoff to guide him through the house, or systems. So Michael made certain that he was ready, both physically and mentally. Emotionally, he didn't allow himself to think about. Emotions would blur his concentration, and Michael needed to remain fully focused on his objective...free Nikita. He could guess where she was being kept. The schematics of Tazio's home had shown an area in the basement that he had put to use as a kind of cell block for uninvited or, unwelcome, guests. The trick was going to be in getting there. Michael had expected having to sneak his way in via the shadows, but luck was with him. A pizza delivery guy had shown up at the back entrance. Michael would have expected the pizza to be for the guards but apparently Tazio had a passion for Mama Leone's sausage and mushroom pizza. Michael knocked the guy out, tied him up, then divested himself of his field gear. Soon he was wearing only a black turtleneck over his body armour, black jeans and the pizza man's jacket and baseball cap. Then he jumped in the car and drove into the rear entrance. A guard at the gate stopped him and said he would deliver the pizza inside. He held out a fifty dollar bill, telling Michael to keep the change. A moment later he was tied up in the back of the car. Michael slipped into the guard's black jacket and black cap then snatched up the rifle, which would be a nice compliment to the two hand guns he was wearing...one in a shoulder holster, one in the small of his back. Having studied the location of the guards for the first raid, Michael was familiar with the patterns they used for the perimeter checks, so he was easily able to avoid detection. Slipping into the back entrance of the house was easy. Since he had the layout of the house memorized, it was simple enough for Michael to find the door that led to the bottom level. It was locked. Michael was prepared to pick it, when he heard voices. He had no choice but to run up the stairs to avoid detection. It was then that he heard another voice...Tazio's. And the bastard was discussing Nikita. Michael listened and had to curb his anger as he glided forward. ....."Yeah," Tazio was saying. "That blond girl is alot tougher than she looks. Only thing I've been able to beat out of her so far is her name. Nikita. I don't know who she works for, but they're good....damn good. Son of a bitches got the micro-chip....." There was no response, so Michael assumed that Tazio was on the phone. As he crept forward, gliding into the front part of the master bedroom, he discovered that he was right. Tazio was on a cordless phone. The man was dressed only in a bathrobe, and he was pacing as he spoke. A slight smile curved Michael's lips as he slipped into a narrow alcove and waited. A moment later an opportunity presented itself and Michael took it. Tazio was more than a little surprised when the muzzle of a gun was suddenly shoved under his chin. He had just hung up the cordless and the phone dropped from his fingers. He felt a strong hand twist his other arm up behind his back, then a whisper-soft voice in his ear. "Take me to the girl." Michael's eyes glittered like chips of green ice as he spoke. "What girl?" Tazio countered, only to choke a moment later when the gun barrel pressed hard against his adam's apple. When the pressure was released, Tazio coughed for a moment then said, "She's below." Whoever this man was, he wasn't playing any games and Tazio knew it. Michael tightened his grip on Tazio's arm. "Take me to her," he ordered, pushing the other man out of the room. But Tazio gripped the doorframe with his free hand. "Listen...I have guards everywhere," he cautioned, you won't get very far." "Sure I will," Michael replied. "I have you." "I'll make you a deal," Tazio countered, digging in his heels as he was pushed forward again. Michael almost laughed. "No deals." Tazio was more and more intrigued. He wanted to see the man's face. "I'll let Nikita go if you stay,"he offered. Tazio was concerned for his safety, but he knew that his men would rescue him. It was just a matter of time. And the man who held him impressed the hell out of him. Tazio wondered if he was the one who had stolen the micro-chip. A fact that still impressed him, even as it angered him. This man had gotten to him now, despite his heavy security, and Tazio wanted him on his team. He had no use for the girl, so he considered his offer a fair trade. "No deals," Michael repeated. He shoved hard and Tazio stumbled through the doorway. It didn't take long for them to reach the door that led to the basement. Michael kept a sharp eye out for guards, but he saw no one. He ordered Tazio to open the door and they headed below. "She's over here," Tazio said, pointing to a locked door at the end of the corridor. There was no guard, no need of one on permanent watch, but one made the rounds every two hours. Michael pushed Tazio ahead of him. When they reached the door he peeked in the small window. He caught his breath as he saw Nikita, curled up on a mattress in the corner. He clothes were dirty and splotched with blood. Michael could see that even in the dim light. "Where are the keys?" he hissed, pushing Tazio away from him now, so they were facing each other. It was a mistake. A heartbeat later, Michael found himself surrounded by a dozen guards...all pointing there weapons at him. He didn't flinch. Tazio was smiling as he studied the young man's face. Not what he was expecting. This man was young, and cool as a cucumber. There was no fear in his eyes. "My offer still stands," he said, moving closer. "I'll trade the girl for you." "Call off your guards, or you die," Michael countered. He still had his gun trained on Tazio. "You've got to be kidding," the older man countered, laughing. But he admired the other man's cool. He was about to signal his men to disarm him when he howled in pain. A bullet had grazed his thigh. Michael smiled as he watched Tazio cursing at him. Two guards moved forward to help their boss, but four others moved in on Michael. He reacted and kicked tw o in the face, breaking noses. But two more came, and more behind them, so it was only a matter of time before Michael was pinned between them, both guns taken from him. Tazio had recovered his composure by then. The wound wasn't that deep and he realized that it had been a symbolic gesture. He went to his captive and grabbed a handful of the long, thick hair. Smiling into the cool, green eyes, Tazio said, "Now...I'm in control. What's your name?" When the young man didn't answer, Tazio back handed him. He knew it had to hurt, his hand throbbed with pain, and blood oozed from the young man's split lip, but still he said nothing. Nor did he react. He simply spit out blood then met Tazio's gaze with a glint of smugness in his own. Tazio admired him for it. But he was getting frustrated. "Tell me your name, or I shoot the girl in the knee," he said, his voice cold steel. No more games. "Michael." To resist would have been futile, and Michael knew it. Tazio would shoot Nikita, and Michael knew she wouldn't survive much more physical abuse. He didn't need to see her up close to know that. Michael could almost feel her pain. "Good boy, Michael," Tazio said. He reached out and patted the young man's cheek. "Now, let me make you an offer you can't refuse. Join me, or Nikita dies. What's it gonna be?" As he asked the question, Tazio's eyes searched deep into Michael's, trying to read his soul. But there were shadows blocking his way. Michael wasn't giving anything away. Silence filled the air for a moment as Michael simply held Tazio's gaze. But then his eyes flickered away. "Let me see Nikita," he requested. Tazio considered the request, then nodded to his men. "Bind him first," he ordered. He didn't trust Michael for one second, which was all the more reason why he wanted the young man on his team. Michael didn't react when his arms were pulled behind him and his wrists bound with cord. The pull on his injured shoulder sent pain lancing through him, but he almost welcomed it. A moment later, the door to Nikita's cell was opened and Michael was shoved inside. He knew he was being watched, but he ignored the eyes upon him as he went to Nikita and knelt down beside her. Her pale hair covered her face and Michael wished that he could brush it back. He whispered her name. "Nikita..." She stirred at the sound of his voice and whimpered as consciousness brought a wave of pain with it. But she could feel Michael near her...unless he was just a fevered dream. "Michael..." "I'm here, Nikita," he whispered. He wanted to touch her, but that was forbidden. Michael swallowed hard, then rose to his feet. He turned to face Tazio and whispered, "You have a deal." "Wonderful!" Tazio was delighted. He gestured for his guards to lead Michael from the cell. Then they headed for the stairs. To Michael he said, "If you try anything stupid, I will kill her. Do you understand?" Michael nodded. "I understand." Tazio laughed softly. "You should feel honored, Michael. My guards are elite group. And I've got the feeling that you're going to be the best of the bunch. But you know that I'm going to test you, and if you fail...Nikita dies." "I won't fail," Michael replied. But as he was pushed up the stairs, his mind was already working on a means of escape. ~KIDNAP~ Tazio stood watching Michael. The young man was firing at a moving target, using his left hand. Tazio waited for him to empty the clip, then moved forward to check the results. Like his previous efforts, Michael had put each bullet...dead center. He was the best shot Tazio had ever seen, and appeared to be ambidexterous. All plusses. As was MIchael's...hunter...instincts. Tazio's men were trained in stealth and self defense tactics. Michael blew them all away. He could definitely teach them a thing or two. What Tazio admired most of all was the young man's ability to remain unresponsive. His face was beautiful and expressionless, the eyes cold. No reaction to anything. He was the perfect killer. A dark angel of death! Michael felt Tazio's eyes upon him. The man was always watching him. MIchael knew he was wondering what was going on in his head. He almost smiled. Tazio wouldn't like knowing. It was a dark place...a scary place. That was why Michael shut people out, especially Nikita. Her innocence, her joy of life and the beauty of her heart and soul were all bright, shiny and new. Michael didn't want to tarnish them....or her. That's one reason why he kept his distance, emotionally. "Well done, Michael," Tazio complimented, moving to the other man's side as he ejected the empty clip. "I have a surprise for you." "What is it?" Michael asked, his voice without inflection. He had no curiosity. He asked only because he knew it was expected of him. In the past two weeks, Michael had learned how to play up to Tazio. What to say, and do, to ingratiate himself to the other man. In doing so, Michael hoped to play upon some weakness, of which Tazio had many, that would enable him to get NIkita out of here. Tazio patted Michael on the shoulder, then gestured for him to walk with him towards the house. "I want you to be my personal body guard. Well...one of them. I have a meeting this afternoon. Business. You'll accompany me." Michael nodded. It wasn't as if he had a choice. "I want to see Nikita," he declared, his eyes locking with Tazio, even as he shrugged the man's hand off his shouder. "I might allow that," Tazio countered, smiling at Michael's obvious brush off. "If you prove yourself to me this afternoon." And with those parting words, Tazio entered the house, leaving Michael staring after him. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- The meeting was in a warehouse. Michael was dressed in his customary black. A turtleneck, trousers and half boots. He was wearing a black, leather duster and black leather gloves. All compliments of Tazio. Raybans shaded his eyes as he exited the limo and moved to open the door for his new...boss. Tazio was smiling as he exited the limo. He was carrying a briefcase which contained two million in cash. Today he would make a trade. The money for a very important black book. The man he was trading with was standing next to a limo as well. Tazio made to move forward, but found his way blocked by Michael. "What are you doing?" Tazio demanded, his eyes flashing with anger. "It's a set up!" MIchael hissed, shoving Tazio down to the ground even as he pulled his gun and fired, taking out two men who had drawn upon them from beside the other limo. He had *sensed* that something wasn't right the moment they had entered the warehouse. Michael didn't believe in intuition, but he relied heavily on his instincts. And they had warned him of impending danger. He fired off another round of shots as he pushed Tazio back into the limo. MIchael then realized that their driver was dead, so he shoved him aside and slid behind the wheel. A moment later they were barrelling out of the warehouse. Michael checked the rear view mirror. No one was following. So he glanced over his shoulder. "You all right?" he asked Tazio. "No, dammit!" Tazio cursed. He was furious about the set up, but he swallowed his anger. There was one good thing that had come out of this day. Michael had proven himself loyal to him. In fact, he had saved Tazio's life, and that meant alot to him. So he would reward Michael. He leaned forward to pat the young man's shoulder. "I owe you one, MIchael. When we get back...you can see NIkita." Michael said nothing. He just stared straight ahead and drove. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Nikita was asleep when Michael entered her cell. He moved quietly and reached out to gently smooth her matted hair off her face. She stirred slightly and MIchael winced as he studied her fading bruises. It had been two weeks since her last beating, since he had agreed to join with Tazio, but Nikita still bore the marks of her ordeal. She was much better overall, however, for her gunshot wound had been tended to, and she was well fed. But too pale, and obviously lethargic from her enforced captivity. Michael knew he had to get her out of here...soon. "Nikita..." Michael whispered her name in her ear, then pulled back when she started and sat up, abruptly. "It's all right," he told her, pressing his hands to her face to help her focus. "It's me, Nikita. It's Michael." "Michael?" Nikita repeated, stupidly. She was staring at his gorgeous face, yet felt certain that she must be dreaming. He blinked at the tremors that shook Nikita. "I'm here," he said soflty. Leaning forward, Michael pressed a kiss to her temple. "It's going to be all right, Nikita." She lifted one hand to touch his face. His skin was warm and he smelled like sandalwood. Like the cologne that Nikita had given him a few months ago, just because the scent of it reminded her of him. "What are you doing here?" Nikita demanded. She gazed about and knew that she was still Tazio's prisoner. "I've come to take you home, Nikita," Michael whispered against her hair. He had to be quick, and cautious. Tazio was only allowing him five minutes with Nikita, and he suspected that the room was bugged. "Be strong," Michael told her, even as he pulled her into his embrace. "Home..." Nikita breathed, as she clung to Michael and closed her eyes. He felt safe, and the fear that had been her constant companion, began to fade away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Two days after Michael was allowed to see Nikita, Tazio sent him on his second assignment. He and another guard, were sent to play courier. They were to deliver an attache case to a downtown address. Simple enough. But as Michael left the driver's side of the car, and was about to cross the street, a black van pulled up in front of him. A section van. Before Michael could react, the door slid open and there was popping sound. A moment later the world faded to black, thanks to the tranquilizer dart that had imbedded itself in Michael's neck. Two operatives jumped out of the van and picked him up. Two others held off Tazio's other guard. When Michael was in the van, the operatives jumped back in, slammed the door closed and took off. But they left the guard with four flat tires, so that he couldn't pursue them. The guard cursed, then jumped in the car, reaching for the cell phone. He punched in a number and when Tazio answered he said, "Michael is gone." He had to hold the phone away from his ear as Tazio roared on the other end of the line. Then he was able to explain. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Michael opened his eyes and blinked against the glare of the white walls and florescent lighting. He shifted stiff muscles, only to discover that his wrists were in restraints. Just as Michael was about to call out, a familiar face appeared over him. Madeline. She smiled at him. Michael didn't smile back. "Why?" he asked, discovering that he was barely able to whisper. His throat was parched. Madeline reached for a glass of water. There was a straw and she put it to Michael's lips. "Drink," she told him. She saw him consider resisting, but then he drank, realizing that it was in his best interest to do so. When he was finished, Madeline set the glass aside and said, "You're safe now, MIchael. We'll take care of you." "Nikita?" he questioned, feeling a haze of darkness drifting over him. It was only then that Michael realized that he was hooked up to an IV. He knew he was back in section One, and he was in the room they used for reconditioning. He remembered the van and being hit with the tranguilizer dart. What he didn't understand was...why. "Forget about Nikita," Madeline countered, as one hand smoothed his hair in a comforting gesture. "You need to concentrate on yourself, Michael." He turned his head, trying to get away from Madeline's touch. MIchael knew what she was trying to do. He'd seen it done so many times, and had often been a part of the scenario. They wanted the *old* Michael back. The man he had been...no...the machine he had been before Nikita had come to section. The operative who never once questioned his commands. Who never hesitated. The body that killed without compunction, for it housed no soul. "I'm being punished," Michael whispered. For he understood the game, and how to play it. Madeline felt a flicker of remorse as she watched Michael's eyes fill with tears. She had only seen him cry once before. In her office, in her arms, when he had finally accepted that Simone was dead. And after that moment of *weakness*, Michael had become *sub* human. In essence, he had shut himself down. No emotions, no heart...no soul. Or so he had convinced himself. Until Nikita. But Nikita was gone now, and that was something they would all have to accept. ---------------------------------------------------- Nikita blinked her eyes against the bright light. She was standing in Tazio's office, having been dragged from her cell from two of his men. Now Tazio glared at her, his entire body vibrating with rage. "Who do you work for?" he demanded, slamming one fist down on the top of his desk to emphasize his words. "Go to hell," Nikita shot back. She felt dizzy and sick, but she wouldn't give him the time of day. "I want Michael back!" Tazio hissed. "You know who took him, and you will tell me, Nikita. Believe it." He was not making an idle threat. Nikita did believe him, but she was more interested in what he had said about Michael, than in Tazio's threats. "They took him?" she repreated, and she felt herself grow pale. In the past two days, since Michael had come to see her, Nikita had felt herself reclaim a glimmer of hope. But that hope vanished and tears filled her eyes. "What do you mean, they took him?" she queried. Tazio studied Nikita's face. She was near the breaking point, and he knew it. "Some men in a black van took him away," he explained, and he saw a flicker of awareness in her pale eyes. "I want him back, Nikita. Help me get Michael back." There was a long moment of silence. Nikita was thinking hard about Section, and Michael and the past three years of her life. She blinked back the tears and her head lifted till her eyes were locked with Tazio's. "All right," she told him. "I'll help you." < MISSION > Several weeks had passed since Michael was kidnapped from Tazio and returned to Section One. He had been *reconditioned*, as it were, by Madeline and now she felt that he was ready to resume active status. So he was soon to embark on a mission, with a six-man team. Michael did not kid himself...he knew it was a test. It was Michael's job to grab a middleman whom Section needed to talk to. An informant of theirs, who seemed to be straying. It was a simple mission, one that didn't need five other operatives. Michael could have done it on his own. He knew the others were being sent to watch him. Michael would also be wired and Birkhoff would be in the van, linked to Operations here at Section. They weren't going to let Michael out of their sights. Operations was watching Michael, closely, as he briefed him on the mission. He had concerns, but they appeared to be unwarranted. Michael hadn't fought them at any level. He would know that it was useless to even try. Madeline believed that Michael was resigned to remain at Section, that he would let go of Nikita. That's what Ops wanted, had wanted all along. He had made a mistake in allowing his *feelings* for Michael to cloud his judgement, when he had let Nikita live at the end of her two year training period. She had proven that she could be a valuable operative, MIchael had been right about that. But her value did not supercede Michael's worth to him...or Section... and that was problem. A problem that Operations believed he had finally taken care of. Michael had been with them long enough to know that they never did anything without a reason. That he didn't always like the reasons, was apparent, but one of the things that made Michael so invaluable was his ability to accept the inevitable and do the job. "No mistakes, Michael," Ops told him, as he moved to stand before the young man. He locked eyes with him and waited. "I'll do the job," Michael softly replied, his own eyes unblinking. Operations was pleased to hear it. "Fine. Go see Walter. The van leaves in fifteen minutes." Michael nodded and left. And as he walked out, he could feel Operation's eyes burning into him. --------------------------------------------------------- Walter watched Michael strap on his shoulder holster. He was wearing civilian gear for this mission, but had a vest on underneath his black shirt. They didn't want to spook their mark. After Michael had slipped a second automatic into the holster at the small of his back, Walter held out Michael's jacket. As the young man slipped it on, Walter decided it was time to speak his mind. He had a deep affection for MIchael, but it was hard to get close to him, especially now. Harder even than after Simone had died...the first time. But Walter was determined to make a dent in the wall that surrounded Michael's heart and soul. "Don't give up on Nikita, Michael," he whispered. There was no telling who might be around, listening. "She's almost as strong as you are. A survivor. You -- " Michael cut him off with a glare. "Nikita is dead," he said, his voice emotionless. He was simply stating a fact. "Kid.." Walter wanted to say more, but the stone-cold look on Michael's face stopped him. He had shut himself off again, and Walter knew that he wouldn't be able to reach him. So he sighed and said, "Be careful." "Why?" Michael countered, softly. His lips curved into a half-smile, then he turned and walked away. And the whole time he was fully aware of the figure who stood watching him from the second level. Operations. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- They were to pick up the mark in a parking garage, sub-basement level of a resort hotel. Michael ordered the team to spread out, and he took point. The informant was a predictable man, never swaying from his routine. He would be coming out of the elevator, with some bimbette on his arm, within seconds. The garage attendent was out of the picture, so Michael stood in the shadows, waiting. Suddenly the elevator doors opened, and Michael stepped forward. But it wasn't the mark who stood there, it was Tazio, flanked by four of his guards, all of them holding guns pointed at MIchael. He didn't react, since his own weapon was pointed at Tazio's heart. "What are you doing here?" Michael demanded. He didn't expect his team to respond and come to his rescue, for he was certain that they had been taken out. And he could guess how...and by whom. "I've come for you, Michael," Tazio replied. "To take you back home with me." "No," Michael said. That was all. Tazio grinned, knowing that he had the advantage and loving it. "Don't you get it, Michael?" he questioned, as he slowly moved forward. He didn't, for one minute, believe that the young man would shoot him. "I can offer you freedom from Section One. Isn't that what you want?" Michael didn't respond, other than to let his finger slowly press against the trigger of his gun. But before he could blow Tazio away, he was startled by a movement behind him. Michael reacted too late and a cloth with a heavy, sickly-sweet, scent was pressed over his face. He knew that it was chloroform, even as he held his breath and made an attempt to shake off his attacker. But the drug was fast acting and Michael fell into darkness. Nikita stood over Michael's fallen body. She bent down to remove the transmittor from behind his ear and stepped on it. Then she looked at Tazio and smiled. She watched as he signalled for his limo to pull up. Once it was beside them, two of the guards lifted Michael and placed him in the backseat. Nikita had already climbed in, and she rested Michael's head in her lap. She blinked back tears as she let her fingers comb through his silky hair. Tazio climbed in after them, and after the door was shut and they were on their way home, he offered Nikita a glass of champagne. "To a new life," he toasted. "A new life," Nikita echoed, touching her glass to his. Then she downed th champagne in one swallow. A new life....she repeated, silently. And one that included Michael. ----------------------------------------------------------- In the Section van, Birkhoff sat with his head in his hands. But he jumped when he heard Operations voice in his ear. "Yes sir!" he replied. "What's going on?" Ops demanded. He had expected Michael and the team to be on their way back by now. "Uh....we have a problem," Birkhoff replied. Operations did not want to hear that. "What kind of a problem?" he snapped. Birkhoff did not want to be the one to tell him, but there was no one else. "I just lost Michael," he blurted out. "Lost him?" Operations hissed. "What do you mean you LOST him?" "Communications went down. They're dead." Birkhoff heaved a sigh. "Michael's gone." On the other side of the link, there was silence. < CHOICE > Michael felt a soft touch in his hair and it brought him drifting back to consciousness. When he opened his eyes, it was to find NIkita smiling down at him. Michael caught his breath, then attempted to sit up. He felt Nikita's hand on his chest, pushing him back down. "Rest, Michael," she told him. Then her fingers moved back to his hair. She had always wanted to touch it, to see if it was as thick and as soft as it looked. It was, and Nikita found it hard to resist. Especially since Michael was allowing her touch. "Where are we?" MIchael asked, for the room they were in was unfamiliar to him. He was lying on a huge bed in a luxuriously decorated bedroom. Nikita smiled again. "This is your new room, Michael," she told him. "Isn't it beautiful? Tazio let me pick it out for you. Mine is just as big, but a little more colorful." She would have rambled on, but Michael had lifted one hand to press his fingertips to her lips. He sighed, for he understood what Nikita was trying to do. She wanted them to stay with Tazio. "We can't stay here, Nikita," Michael whispered. "Why not?" she challenged, defiance flashing in her crystal-blue gaze. "Tazio wants us here, Michael. He wants us to work for him. He'll give us a home here. And freedom." The last word trembled from Nikita's lips. "We won't be free, Nikita," MIchael replied, softly, as he let his fingertips brush pale strands of hair away from her eyes. "You know that Section won't let us go." She shook her head, not willing to listen to him. "We're already gone, Michael." Nikita locked eyes with him, beseeching him to believe her. She knew that this was difficult for him, on many levels. But it was what they deserved. Michael especially. Section had done it's best to brainwash him, and Nikita shuddered to think what they had done to him when they'd kidnapped him back from Tazio. But that was behind him now, and before him stood the future. Their future...if only he would let it. "Tazio will protect us," Nikita declared, her hands moving to grip Michael's. He pulled away and sat up. He didn't want to hurt her but she had to see the truth. "Nikita....Section took me back before, they'll do it again." Of that there was no doubt. What he didn't add was that they would leave her behind....dead. Michael knew it, so did Nikita. She just didn't want to face it. Neither did he. Somehow, Michael was determined to protect her. Whether or not he could save her, that was a different matter. "I won't let them have you!" Nikita spat, and she didn't question her vehemence. Why she wanted to protect Michael with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cubs, was a place deep inside her where she was not ready to go. "MIchael....we can be free here. Trust me...please!" Nikita couldn't keep the desperation from coloring her voice. "If we stay here, Nikita, with Tazio....what do we become?" Michael countered, knowing that the question would throw her off. It was meant to. Michael had learned well from Madeline. Nikita frowned at him, not understanding what he meant. "I don't....what do you mean, what do we become?" Michael slid off the bed, then turned to face her. "If we work for Tazio, then we kill for the wrong reasons, Nikita." "Is there a right reason to kill, Michael?" Nikita shot back at him, her eyes cold. She raised one hand to cut him off before he could respond. "I know the drill. That Section does what needs to be done. What no one else can do. And you're right. With Tazio, that would no longer be an issue. But I don't care!" As she spoke, Nikita stepped into Michael's face. She looked deep into his cool, green eyes, searching for his soul. But finding it hidden, as always. He would never let her see his thoughts, and a glimpse at his emotions was forbidden. Not that it mattered. Of one thing Nikita as certain, that Michael longed for his freedom. Once he had said to her that being at Section was not what he would want for himself or...them. And to Lisa, he had said that they weren't free. And Nikita had heard pain in his voice, for just a moment. But it had been there, and now Nikita knew that freedom was within their grasp. Maybe not a *walk in the park* kind of freedom, but it was certainly better than what Section One had to offer. Michael had repeatedly tried to pound into Nikita that in Section there was no such thing as free will. If only he would agree to stay here, then he would have won his freedom, just based on making that choice. "You do care," MIchael whispered, even as he held Nikita's gaze. He wished that he could read her thoughts at that moment, even as he was grateful that she couldn't read it. He was so close to wanting to stay. Of needing to. But Michael wouldn't give in to his desires. That was not acceptable. For either of them. But, he ouldn't make that decision for Nikita. Michael reached out and brushed his thumb across her right eyebrow, the same caress he had made long ago, after ordering Nikita beaten. It had been part of the *job*, as well as a test. Michael knew that Madeline and Ops had been testing him, to see if he could do his *job* without letting his emotions get in the way. He had passed that test, and many others. Michael had long ago learned how to play the game. Dropping his hand, when he felt Nikita rest her head into his caress, Michael told her, "If you want to stay, Nikita....then I will stay with you." He saw the look of surprise on her face, then turned away. "But it's your choice." NIkita didn't answer him. Couldn't. But she did take his arm to pull Michael back around to face her. Then she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her embrace as she blinked back tears. -------------------------------------------------------------- Michael stood at Nikita's bedside. They had returned to Section One, four weeks ago. Nikita had gone through intense reconditioining. Michael hadn't been so lucky. Madeline entered the room. She glanced briefly at Nikita, who was sleeping peacefully, then her eyes focused on Michael. His face was a mask, hiding his emotions, knowing that he was always being watched, so he would give nothing away. But Madeline could feel the pain and weariness that emanated from him, and she felt....regret. "How are you feeling, Michael?" Madeline asked, knowing that the question would throw him off a little. "I'm fine," Michael answered, giving his standard reply. He had been a bit surprised by the question, but he didn't let it show. That's what Madeline wanted, so he wouldn't play along. Not this time. "Nikita is doing well," Madeline declared, immediately changing tactics. "When she wakes up she won't remember anything of what happened at Tazio's. She'll only remember since before the initital raid on his home." Michael nodded. "And how will you explain the almost three months that she's lost?" Madeline smiled. "Car accident. And we have all the documentation to back it up. Nikita suffered a severe head injury that put her into a coma." Madeline's eyes locked on Michael's face. "That's the story we'll tell her." "Of course," Michael said, knowing that Madeline was warning him to stick to it. As if he would do anything else. Michael was simply grateful that Nikita was alive. He hadn't expected Operations to allow her to live. So Michael didn't ask questions. The only wish he had was that he could have been allowed to forget the past three months as well. But he knew that Section wanted him to remember...and to never forget. "You made the right choice to come back, Michael," Madeline said, believing that she knew his thoughts. He turned to look at her then, finally taking his eyes off of Nikita's face. "It was the only choice," he whispered, his eyes glimmering with suppressed anger. "And Nikita made it." Michael's voice was tinged with defiance. Madeline was pleased. She reached out to tuck a lock of soft hair behind Michael's ear and said, "Nikita is learning...that we're family. And you don't leave your family." The words were a warning to Michael and she saw, by the look in his beautiful eyes, that he got the message...loud and clear. So Madeline turned and left the room. "Forgive me, Nikita," Michael whispered, the moment Madeline was gone. He bent over the bed and brushed a kiss against Nikita's temple, even as he blinked back tears. "Forgive me for wanting you...to live." ~DEJA VU~ MIchael and Nikita were part of a six man field team. They were infiltrating a warehouse on the docks, in search of stolen, government weapons. They were moving in, in teams of two, when Michael came to an abrupt halt and signalled to Nikita to watch her back. He had sensed that something was wrong. And he was right. A gunshot rang out and Michael felt the bullet rip into his shoulder blade. There was a flash of white-hot pain, then the sound of his name. Then there was blackness rushing at him. Michael fell to his knees. Nikita had screamed Michael's name as she heard the gunshot and saw him fall. She fired back in the direction of the shooter, then ran to Michael's side. Tapping her transmittor, she ordered Birkhoff to send in the chopper. The mission be damned. She had to get Michael out of there. "I'm here," Nikita told him, falling to her knees beside him. "Do the...job," Michael ordered, between clenched teeth. He knew that he was in bad shape. The bullet had imploded upon impact, and blood was gushing out of the wound at an alarming rate. Michael tried to hang on to consciousness, but he was fading fast. "Don't worry about the job!" Nikita shouted. "Just worry about yourself." She moved to cradle Michael against her as his body slumped forward. Just then there was a blinding flash of light. The chopper. Nikita waved them over, ignoring the shooting that was going on around her. She cared only about getting Michael out of there. The operative from the chopper jumped out to help Nikita with Michael. He was still conscious and arguing with her all the way. But Nikita made him go, and it frightened her that he was too weak to resist. Once he was strapped down, she brushed a kiss across his lips. "Be safe," she whispered. But she knew that Michael didn't hear her. He was unconscious now. So Nikita turned away, and waved off the pilot, before heading back into the fray. Now she would do the *job*. ------------------------------------------------------------ Madeline was standing beside Michael's bed when Nikita entered Medlab. There was a sadness in Madeline's eyes that worried Nikita. "How's Michael?" she asked, her eyes going to his face. He looked so pale, and so young and vulnerable. This was an image of Michael that Nikita had never thought she would never see. "He'll recover," Madeline replied, not bothering to go into the details of how Michael had nearly bled to death on the operating table. No sense in causing undue concern for Nikita. Madeline smiled at the young woman. "You did a good job tonight," she complimented her. And it was sincere. Nikita was a little surprised to hear it. "Thank you, Madeline," she replied, but her attention was still on Michael. She reached out with one hand to smooth a lock of hair off his forehead, and was unaware when Madeline left the room. She did, however, feel Michael stir beneath her touch. When he opened his eyes, Nikita smiled and whispered, "How do you feel?" Michael blinked to bring his eyes into focus. When he saw Nikita's beautiful face smiling down at him, a smile curved his lips. But even that small movement caused pain to ripple through him, and Michael bit back a moan. "It's all right," Nikita told him, reaching for Michael's hand and feeling his fingers clench about hers as he battled the pain. "Shhhh...." she whispered, using her free hand to smooth his brow. "Rest, Michael." Nikita watched as his eyes closed and his breathing eased, then deepened. Even though Michael had drifted back to sleep, Nikita was certain that he heard her say, "I'm right here...and I'm not going anywhere." 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