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As Michael left Josette's Resturant, he was feeling content. He had spent the past two hours with the motherly French woman, chatting in his native language and eating her wonderful cuisine. But as he headed into the alley, where his car was parked, Michael sensed that something was wrong. He grimaced as he reached for his gun, only to remember that it was in his glove compartment. Josette refused to allow him to carry it on his visits with her. But Michael prepared himself, all his senses focused and his body attuned to react. So when the first man attacked him, Michael took him down with a cresent kick.
The second man's head snapped back when Michael's palm connected with his chin. The third and fourth men worked as a team. One grabbing Michael from behind as the other came at him with a white cloth in hand. It had occurred to Michael, from the first attack, that these men weren't trying to hurt him. They were attempting to grab him. But Michael had no compunction against hurting them, so he used the weight of the man holding him as a balance while lifting both feet off the ground. As the man with the cloth approached, Michael mule kicked him in the chest. Then he broke the other man's hold. He was prepared to go for his gun, as his car was nearby, but a familiar voice stopped him.
"Hello Michael," said the woman, as she stepped out of the shadows and into the lamplight. "Long time no see."
"Jackal," Michael whispered, unable to control his surprise. He would have assumed that she would have been far from here, well out of Section's reach.
She smiled at him, then gestured to her battered companions. "You really are good. I wish you had joined with me."
Michael was about to respond, when he realized his mistake. He had allowed himself to be distracted and now two of the men grabbed him, each taking an arm and pulling him down to the ground on his back. A third man ran forward to pin his legs. Michael didn't waste his energy struggling. He simply watched as Jackal knelt down beside him. She took the cloth from the fourth man and pressed it over Michael's nose and mouth. One whiff of the sickly-sweet scent and he knew what it was. Chloroform.
"Sweet dreams, Michael," Jackal whispered, as she watched the drug take effect. Once he was unconscious, she gestured to her companions. Two of them carried Michael to a nearby van, another got behind the wheel of Michael's car. Jackal waited for the van to pull up then she stepped inside and it drove off.
************ When Michael opened his eyes, he was more than a little surprised to realize that he was lying on his own bed. Sitting up, slowly, to counteract the nausea and dizziness that were the after effects of the chloroform, Michael gazed up the room. He was alone, and the black light above the dresser offered the only illumination. Sliding off the bed, Michael knelt beside the nightstand and pulled out the fake drawer. He had a small gun taped underneath there. Jackal was no fool. She would have taken the one in the drawer.
Gun in hand, Michael left the room and descended the stairs. He wasn't at all surprised to find Jackal lounging on the sofa, watching tv. "What do you want?" Michael asked, as he approached her. His eyes were tracking the surrounding area, but he sensed that they were alone.
"How do you feel?" Jackal countered Michael's question with one of her own as she clicked off the television.
"Confused," Michael replied, honestly. "What are you doing here?"
Jackal patted the space beside her, but wasn't surprised when Michael preferred to stand. "I'm sorry about my methods, Michael," she told him, her eyes glittering. "But I need your help."
He nodded. He was willing to listen. "To do what?" Michael questioned, as he carefully set the gun down on the coffee table, within easy reach.
"Before I tell you that, I want to know that if you agree to help you will be risking your life." As Jackal spoke, her eyes shifted from the gun on the table, to Michael's face. He revealed nothing by his expression.
"You gave me back my life," Michael replied. If it wasn't for Jackal, he would have been cancelled eight months ago. No questions asked. Not that his life was of such great importance to Michael, but the image of Nikita flashed in his head. She needed him, but that was not the issue here, and now. "I owe you," Michael said softly.
Jackal shook her head. "We were even, Michael. And what I'm asking for now is a personal favor."
Michael saw pain flicker in Jackal's eyes and it intrigued him. "Explain," he prompted, moving to sit on the arm of the sofa. He was careful to stay close to his gun, even while giving the appearance of being trustful of Jackal's intentions. Michael was willing to help her, if he could. But that didn't mean he trusted her, regardless of what she had done for him. It simply wasn't in his nature to accept people at face value.
"I have information that leads me to believe that a contract has been taken out on Operations," Jackal replied. She smiled at Michael's reaction. He was unable to hide his surprise.
"You're sure of this?" he countered, as he took measure to regain control of his emotions. He smoothed his expression back into a cool mask.
Jackal sighed. "Very sure. Remember, Michael....I have good connections and resources. The worst part of this whole scenario is that the hit was ordered by someone from the inside. High up in the hierarchy, so to speak."
Michael was on his feet and reaching for his gun. "We have to tell Operations, and Madeline."
"No!" Jackal moved to intercept him, pressing one hand to his chest and feeling him step away from her touch as if she had burned him. "Michael...I don't know how far this infection has spread. There's no way of knowing who we can trust." As she spoke, Jackal locked eyes with the young man, even as his silver-green gaze seemed to sear into her soul.
"Why trust me?" Michael shot back, almost as a challenge.
Jackal smiled at the implication of his words. "I know your file, Michael," she replied softly. "If you were going to take out Operations, you would have done it years ago. The fact that you didn't would lead me to believe that the higher ups would be smart enough not to ask you to do it. They know that you're loyal to him, but that you're not a puppet either. You wouldn't do it, so I know I can trust you."
Michael nodded, accepting her logic. "So.....what do you want me to do?" he queried, slipping the gun he was holding into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back.
"I want us to save Operations," Jackal replied, her eyes flashing. Since Michael had read her file, she knew that he was aware of the fact that Operations had once been more than her team partner. They had been intimate for many years. Knowing that, Michael would understand her desire to help him now. Especially given his own, past, relationship with Simone. And his current one with Nikita.
"How?" Michael countered, as he allowed a frown to curve his lips. If the hit had been ordered from someone high up in Section, Operations was as good as dead.
Jackal's eyes grew cold. "This is where the favor comes in, Michael," she drawled. "If you do what I ask, it will mean betraying Section One. Becoming a traitor."
Michael nodded. "Tell me," he requested. No matter what she asked for, he was prepared to do it.
"I want you to kidnap Operations," Jackal replied, and she was pleased when Michael's only reaction was to smile.
************
As Michael headed down the corridor to his office, his thoughts were somewhat chaotic. Jackal had spelled out her plan to him last night, and into the early dawn. It was simple, yet complicated in many ways. Michael could accept the logic of it, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Jackal had been careful to answer all his questions, but Michael was still haunted by them.
The plan was for Michael to take Operations to a safe place. A place known only to him and Jackal. She would then do her part and set in motion an elaborate sequence. It would quickly be leaked out to Section that Michael had turned rogue and was intending to trade Operations to the Legion. Michael knew that the minute Section heard that, he would be marked for cancellation, with the stipulation of 'shoot first and forget about the damn questions'. His actions would brand him a traitor...the reasons wouldn't matter.
But it wasn't the fact that he would die soon that bothered Michael. As he reran the plan through his head, he tried to figure out what was niggling at him. Jackal had all the bases covered. She would set up a meet between Michael and Legion, which would be simple enough since there were members of the faction that were aware of her history with Operations. Of course, Section wouldn't know about Jackal's involvement in the transaction. At first Michael had wondered at the logic of doing the trade off. It would put Operations at further risk if something were to go wrong. But Jackal had explained that they needed to push Section's buttons. Whoever was ordered to cancel Operations would have to move fast, once the leak got out about Ops falling into Legion hands. That would not be acceptable, for the warhorse knew too much. He could bring Section to it's knees, and Legion would be willing to be very patient in extracting the information they wanted. All parties would know that.
It was a good plan, Michael acknowledged to himself. He guessed that what was really bothering him was the fact that Section wanted Operations cancelled. Why? That's the question that truly nagged at him. Michael had asked Jackal, but she didn't have an answer for him. And Michael had been with Section long enough to know that they didn't always need a justifiable reason, and they certainly weren't big on explanaing their actions. In the end, as far as Michael was concerned, the reasons didn't matter. He would do what he had to do, to keep Operations alive.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that, for once, Michael didn't see Nikita until he had nearly run her over. When her hands gripped his forearms to steady them both, Michael blinked at refocused his attention. She was smiling at him. "I'm sorry, Nikita," he apologized.
"No biggie," she countered, with a shrug. Then she studied him, seeing a flicker of something in his beautiful eyes that she couldn't identify. "Is something wrong?" Nikita inquired, letting her own eyes reflect her concern.
"No." Michael shook his head then stepped away from Nikita's touch. It was a distraction that he couldn't afford. "I have work to do," he said softly, attempting to move around her.
Nikita cut him off. "It'll have to wait. We've got a briefing in five minutes. Madeline sent me to tell you." Which had seemed weird to Nikita. She knew something before Michael did, and he was acting a bit odd. Nikita wondered about that, but knew better than to expect a sudden confession.
Michael didn't respond for a moment, he was contemplating his options. It was time to put the plan into effect. He offered a slight smile to Nikita, then gestured for her to proceed him. "After you," Michael whispered as he followed her down the hall.
************
The briefing was quick. Nikita would be on point, working her way into the affections of an multi-millionaire industrialist who had a file that they needed. The plane would leave in twelve hours. Michael knew that he wouldn't be on it. As everyone else filed out, Michael made his way over to Operations. "I have something to tell you," Michael began.
Operations was surprised, but curious. It wasn't like Michael to want to...talk. But the young man gave away nothing in his demeanor, which was all the more intriguing. Operations perched on the corner of the table. "So tell me," he invited.
"Not here," Michael responded, his eyes flickering about the room. "The intel I have is...sensitive. We can't talk in Section."
"All right," Operations allowed. He knew Michael very well, and something told him that if the young man was worried about a security leak, his information was serious. He also knew that Michael had excellent connections, so he wasn't about to blow him off. "Where do you want to go?"
Michael closed his eyes for a minute. This was going to be almost too easy. How ironic that he was so well trained that he could fool the man who had trained him. "For a drive," he replied. "My car."
Operations nodded. "Let's go." And so saying, he led the way out.
************ Neither man spoke as Michael headed west. They both knew that it would be safer for them to be out of the perimeter area before speaking, so Operations was content to wait. An hour's drive then Michael pulled the car over to the shoulder. They were on a deserted stretch of road. "What's going on, Michael?" Operations asked, as he turned his head to glance out the side window. A moment later he cried out as he felt a sharp prick in his neck. He raised one hand but found his wrist grabbed by steel fingers. "Why?" was all Operations had time to ask before darkness claimed him.
Michael sighed as he pulled the syringe out of the other man's neck. He recapped it then slipped it back into his pocket. Then he removed a pair of hand cuffs and drew Operations' hands behind him and secured them. Only then did he restart the car and drive off.
************
Operations came to awareness slowly. Before he opened his eyes, he shifted his body to discover that he was sitting in a chair, his wrists cuffed behind him. Opening his eyes, he took in the small room with bare furnishings and one window. Michael was standing at the window, a gun held loosely in his left hand. Operations didn't know what to think. But he didn't let his confusion show when he asked, "Why, Michael? Payback?"
Michael's face was expressionless, his eyes blank, as he turned to face his mentor. "No," he said coldly. That was all. He had to play his part.
"What then?" Operations prompted. He needed to know. To understand what this was all about. And why now? Why not years ago, when there might have been a reason too.
"I want out," Michael replied, as he moved to stand before Operations. He saw the flicker of surprise in the other man's pale eyes.
Operations shook his head. "No one gets out of Section, Michael," he drawled, trying to cover his shock. "You know that better than anyone." There had been a time when Michael had been willing to bargain for freedom. Not his, but Simone's. At the time, Operations would have liked to have been able to grant him his request, but that wasn't an option. They both knew that. That was also another time, another place. It was best to deal with the present. "So...now what?" Operation's queried.
Michael didn't respond to the question, he simply returned to the window.
"You've signed your death warrant, Michael," Operations declared, after the silence became deafening. He was hoping to shock Michael into revealing his motives. The young man didn't react. He was like a statue. Of course, that's what they had trained him to be...emotionless. And Michael was their best. "What about Nikita?" Operations tossed out the question and was pleased when Michael flinched. Direct hit. But he was soon to be disappointed.
"This isn't about Nikita!" Michael hissed, turning to face the older man. His eyes flashed like silver-green sparks.
Operations nodded. "You're right. It's about you and me."
Michael allowed a smile to curve his lips. "Not really," he replied. "You're just a bargaining chip. A way to buy my freedom." Michael moved forward again, then knelt down so that he and Operations were on eye level. He was only playing a part, but the truth seemed to be begging to be told. "If I had wanted you dead, I would have killed you long ago."
"Why didn't you?" Operations countered, his eyes locking with Michael's intense gaze. The issue of Michael and Simone's dead child had never been spoken of between them, but Operations knew that Michael's directory file would have been revealed to him after the War. So they both knew his feelings towards Section. Yet Operations never, once, had questioned Michael's loyalty. But, neither, did he understand it. Michael was a true enigma. "I know you hate me, Michael. Can't say as I blame you," Operations allowed, with a smile that was almost a smirk. "I never give you a break, I push you past your limits every chance I get. I lied to you about Simone being dead." That was something else they had never talked about, and Operations was surprised when Michael didn't react to his words. He simple stared at him with that inscrutible, blank stare. "Why not kill me now?"
"I don't hate you," Michael replied. And that was the simple truth. Sometimes he didn't know what he felt towards the other man. His emotions were chaotic. He felt grateful to Operations for his understanding, for in the beginning, life in Section had been difficult for Michael. He had once told Nikita that the transition had been hard for him as well, and that he could sympathize with her. But she hadn't believed him. If only she knew about his past, Nikita would have been surprised. But Operations did know. He had been Michael's mentor from day one. It had come as a surprise to Michael to learn from Walter, one day during weapons training, that Operations usually didn't involve himself in the training of a recruit. But he had hand-picked Michael.
Operations was surprised by Michael's admission. He smiled. "Maybe you should," he advised, then he watched for the young man's reaction.
Michael knew what Operations was doing, only this time he couldn't afford to be gullible. He rose to his feet and headed back to the window, his eyes scanning the street. "Be quiet," he said, his voice monotone.
"What happens now?" Operations asked, knowing that the moment of truth between them had passed.
"We wait," Michael replied. But he was tired of waiting. So much could go wrong.
Operations was silent for a moment, then he spoke his mind, but with regret. "No reprieves, Michael. You'll die for this."
Michael turned to look at him, his eyes blank. "I know," he whispered softly. Then he faced the window again, but he didn't see the street below. What he saw was the image of Nikita's face.
************ Madeline called an emergency briefing. Only Walter, Birkhoff and Nikita were in attendence. "We have a situation," she stated, the moment they were all seated. "Code Black Jack."
Nikita frowned. "What does that mean?" she questioned. "Code Black Jack."
Walter answered her. "Rogue agent."
Birkhoff had a better explanation. "A traitor in our midsts." He looked at Madeline. "Who is it?"
"Michael." After saying the name, Madeline awaited everyone's reaction. Walter and Birkhoff looked stunned, but Nikita was a surprise.
"NO WAY!" she shouted, rising out of her chair. "I don't believe it!"
Madeline gestured for her to sit back down. "Don't you want to know what he's done?"
Nikita glared at the other woman, but nodded. "What?"
"Michael has kidnapped Operations," Madeline replied. Her eyes were cold and dark. "We don't know where they are, but I expect to hear something soon."
Walter found his voice. "Why would he do that?" he demanded. Michael didn't let people get close to him, not since Simone's death. But Walter had known him before then. Michael wouldn't turn traitor. There had to be a reason.
Madeline sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "At this point, WHY doesn't matter." Her eyes moved to Nikita as she continued. "Michael has signed his own death warrant. Once we find him, and we will, he'll be executed on sight."
Nikita didn't respond to that, she couldn't. Her throat was tight with unshed tears. Shaking her head in denial, she jumped out of her chair and ran from the room. She didn't have a specific destination in mind, but soon found herself in Michael's office. Dropping into the chair across from his desk, Nikita drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She knew, from the look in Madeline's eyes, that Michael would not be returning to Section. Hot tears rolled down her face.
************ Back in the conference room, Madeline dismissed Walter but had orders for Birkhoff. "Find someone to replace Nikita on the Roth mission. I want her held kept on close quarter standby till this is over."
"Right," Birkhoff replied. They both knew why. Given the chance, Nikita would try to help Michael. Birkhoff wondered if Madeline knew that he would do the same. But he said nothing as he left the room.
Once alone, Madeline closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. It was going to be a long night.
************
Operations was alone in the room now. Had been for what he guessed was about three hours, maybe less. Most of the time he spent alternating trying to free himself from the handcuffs, the rest of the time he tried to figure out what Michael had planned for him. He was unsuccessful in both ventures.
Suddenly the door opened, and three men entered the room. Michael was trailing behind them, still holding his gun. Once again, he went to the window and stood staring out.
The smallest of the three newcomers moved to stand before Operations. His name was Anton Dartgana. He and Operations went way back and a smile curved Anton's thin lips as he faced his nemesis. "It's been a long time, old friend," he drawled.
Operations ignored him, his eyes locking on Michael. "So!" He hissed. "Now I understand, Michael. You've sold me out." Of all the things he had imagined the young man capable of doing, this hadn't been one of them.
"Quiet!" Anton snarled, as he backhanded Operations with a force that made the other man's head snap back. Then he smiled. "Michael has good business sense. He's bought his way into our elite group."
"Really?" Operations drawled, as he spat blood onto the floor from his split lip. His eyes speared Michael, who had turned to face him with a cold, blank stare. "Funny, I thought you wanted your freedom, Michael," he challenged.
A smile curved Michael's lips as he replied, "I want to be free of Section." He saw a flicker of reaction from Operations at his words, then he turned and walked out of the room.
Operations felt that Michael was running away, but kept that thought to himself as he faced Anton. "So now happens?" he queried, a smirk twisting his lips. Operations showed no fear. "You realize that my people will find Michael..and they'll kill him. And you, Anton."
"And you as well?" Anton countered, laughing. "We're the best chance you have for survival, Operations," he said, for he believed that he was in on the joke. But his laughter cut off, becoming a gurgle, as blood suddenly frothed out of his mouth. A moment later, Anton was dead at Operations' feet. His two friends soon followed.
A figured dressed in black field gear, and wearing a mask, stepped over the bodies to stand before Operations. There was a moment of silence and time seemed to stand still, but then the figure ripped off the mask. Madeline smiled and said, "Hello."
Operations shook his head, but then a smile escaped him. "I have to admit, I'm surprised," he said softly. But he was also pleased.
"You should be," Madeline countered, her eyes shading to black. Stepping closer still, she lifted her gun and pressed it to Operations' temple.
"What are you doing?" he countered, finding that his heart suddenly seemed to have skipped a beat. He knew Madeline well. Knew what she was capable of. She could kill him, the question was....why?
Madeline held his gaze and hers never wavered, neither did the gun in her hand, as she answered him. "I've been ordered cancel you."
Operations opened his mouth to speak, but it took a moment before he could force out the words. "Ordered by who?" he demanded.
"By George," Madeline replied, then she smiled again. "I'll miss you," she whispered.
"That makes two of us," a husky, feminine, voice drawled.
Operations' eyes flickered past Madeline, then widened. "Jackal.." he whispered.
She grinned at him. "Hello, Ops. It's been a long time."
Madeline turned then, her gun now pointing at the other woman and her eyes flashed. But her tone was calm and deadly soft. "You set up the contract on Operations," she said, making a statement rather than asking a question.
"I did," Jackal acknowledged, her eyes on Operations face as she spoke, intent upon his reaction.
"Why?" he countered, suddenly not so surprised by the sudden chain of events.
Jackal moved towards him, aware of Madeline's gun tracking her. She had no weapon on her, nor was she afraid. Lifting one hand to caress Operations' face, Jackal whispered, "Payback."
He nodded, understanding why. "Touche," he replied, facetiously.
Madeline's face was a cold mask. She offered a brittle smile as she aimed her gun at Jackal's heart. "I think it's time for you to be cancelled," she said, preparing to shoot. But she cried out instead as a bullet ripped into her from behind. Madeline collapsed onto the floor.
Michael stood in the doorway, his gun still raised. Face expressionless, he stepped forward and kicked Madeline's gun from her hand, then he stepped over her inert body.
"NO!" Operations shouted, then he caught himself. Taking a deep breath, he pinned Michael with a glare. "I will kill you myself!" he hissed.
"I don't think so," Jackal interjected, laughing with delight. She went to Michael and buried her fingers in his thick hair so that she could pull his head down for a kiss. "Good boy," she whispered against his lips. But those were the last words she spoke. Jackal had been too distracted by her triumph to realize Michael's intent, even when she felt the hardness of his gun against her ribs. Too late to pull back as the bullet entered her belly. Jackal clutched at Michael as darkness closed over her, but he simply stepped away and let her fall.
Stepping back over Jackal now, Michael holstered his gun, then knelt beside Madeline. "Are you all right?" he asked, as he helped her to her feet.
Madeline accepted Michael's support as she swayed a little, but nodded. "I'll be fine," she assured him, seeing the concern that glimmered in his silver-green eyes. He had really shot her, but it was a clean shot through the shoulder and would heal nicely. Michael's expertise had done the job. Jackal had been convinced of his loyalty, and Madeline would recover.
Operations was staring at them both as if they had lost their minds. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, even as Michael stepped behind him to remove the handcuffs.
"Let's go," Madeline said, reaching for his hand. "We'll talk later." She smiled as she felt Operations' arm slide around her waist, offering support as they stepped over the four bodies and made their way out the door.
Michael watched them go, but didn't follow. Not yet. He needed some time to himself. Moving over to the window, he stared out into the darkness, then he closed his eyes. Michael should have been haunted by the images of the dead. But all he saw was the face of an angel, and her name was Nikita.
************ Nikita was sitting in Michael's office, staring at him as he stood looking out the window. She had heard all the rumors about what had happened. How Operations had been marked for cancellation. That Michael was the one ordered to do it, but couldn't. That Madeline had set the entire thing up as a test for Michael, but for the rest of the Section Operatives as well, to see if they would go through with cancelling Michael, had they found him while he was on the hit list. Nikita didn't know what to believe, so she had come to Michael, seeking the truth. She was fully aware of the irony in that.
Michael could feel the heat of Nikita's gaze, but didn't mind it. He felt chilled by what had happened, and what could have happened, and Nikita's mere presence seemed to warm him. "What do you want me to tell you?" he questioned, his eyes still gazing out the window, but seeing nothing.
"The truth," Nikita replied, with her tongue planted firmly in her cheek. "Come on, Michael," she beseeched. "Help me to understand what happened. Was there a contract on Operations?"
"Yes," Michael replied, seeing no reason to deny it.
Nikita twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. "Who ordered it, and why?" she persisted. She was dying of curiosity.
Moving away from the window, Michael dropped into his chair, leaned back, and folded his hands in his lap as he regared Nikita with a blunt stare. Michael knew that he could trust her, and he suddenly found himself telling her the story about Jackal, Operations and George. How the three had a past history, and how Jackal had manipulated George into ordering Operations' cancellation.
Jackal had wanted payback against Ops, and she had called in the favor that George had owed her. What the favor was, Michael didn't explain. But he knew from having read Jackal's file. It was the clue that had tipped him off to who was really behind the hit on Operations.
Nikita was impressed. "So you’re the one who figured out that Jackal was the one who wanted Operations dead?" she questioned. At Michael's nod she continued her questioning. "Was Madeline in on it all along? I mean, did she know about Jackal? And was she really the one ordered to cancel Operations?"
"She didn't know about Jackal," Michael replied. "But she was asked to do the hit." He was the one who had told her about Jackal, sending her a coded message, then she had called him, both of them using a pay phone.
"And Operations was in the dark about the whole thing?" Nikita asked.
Michael nodded. "It was better that he didn't know."
Nikita grinned. She liked the idea of Operations being kept out of the loop for once. What she wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall when Michael had played traitor. The smile faded, however, when another thought occurred. "If you knew that Jackal was the traitor, Michael, then why shoot Madeline?" It bothered Nikita that he had done so, even though she had guessed that it would have been Madeline's idea that he do it. "Why not just kill Jackal and leave it at that?"
"Confusing, isn't it?" Michael countered, a soft smile curving his lips as he watched Nikita's reaction.
"Very," she confirmed, frowning at him.
Michael nodded. "Hmmmmmmm...." he murmured, as he swiveled his chair about to face his computer. Reaching out he switched it on as stared at the bright blue screen.
Nikita realized that she wouldn't get anything more out of Michael, so she stood up and turned to go. But even as she was heading out the door, understanding dawned. Typical Section. From Nikita's understanding of the scenario, only Michael, Operations and Madeline had walked away from the incident. Everyone else was dead. But there were eyes and ears everywhere...Nikita had learned that lesson the hard way. So, if anyone was watching, they would still be wondering where Michael's true loyalty lay. For that matter, Nikita herself wondered about it. But she didn't question it. Wouldn't do her any good. Michael wouldn't answer. He was a true enigma and a part of Nikita acknowledged that it was part of his charm.
"Very clever," Nikita drawled, offering an offhanded compliment. When Michael looked up at her she grinned, then waggled her fingers at him. "Good night," she whispered. Then she left the room.
"Good night, Nikita," Michael replied, after she had gone. Then he refocused his attention on the report he was typing, but a smile curved his lips.
*********** Operations was sitting in a chair beside Madeline's bed in Medlab. She was doing fine and resting comfortably, but he had no intention of leaving her side. He smiled when she opened her eyes and looked at him. "How do you feel?" he asked, leaning forward to take her hand between his.
"I'm fine," Madeline assured him. She smiled back then said, "You owe Michael for this one. Big time."
"I know," Operations allowed. Then he shook his head and his eyes reflected a momentary sadness. "I only hope that when he comes to collect, that I can give him what he wants." Gazing into Madeline's dark eyes, Operations knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Whatever it was that Michael asked for, some day, it would have to do with Nikita. Madeline squeezed Operations' hand then whispered, "So do I."
THE END
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