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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.
One month had passed since Nikita's return to Section. Michael stood at the window of his office, staring through the blinds. He could see the exercise area across the hallway. Nikita was there, working out with Giles. In truth, she was being put through her paces. And not doing well. She didn't stand a chance against her opponent. Michael knew that from experience. He wanted nothing more than to cross the hall and put a stop to the exercise, but he knew that to interfere would only cost Nikita in the end. So he remained where he was, watching.
Nikita hit the mat hard and her breath left her in a rush. She should have rolled to her feet and attacked, but she didn't have the strength, or the will. So she simply lay there, tears mingling with the sweat that ran down her face. Every bone and muscle in her body hurt. As she tried to catch her breath, Nikita stared up at her trainer. He loomed over her, his eyes burning like hot coals. Giles was a giant of a man. Six foot six and three hundred pounds of solid muscle. His black hair was buzzed cut, his eyes dark as night. Nikita was half convinced he was a minion of satan, for he truly was a sadistic man. He loved causing fear and pain in others. It seemed to be his goal in life to break her. Nikita was afraid that he would succeed.
Giles let his upper lip curve into a sneer as he gazed down at Nikita. He enjoyed seeing lines of pain mar her pretty face. It glazed her blue eyes, and the scent of it emanated from her andfilled his nostrils. It was even more satisfying knowing that Nikita was Michael's material. For that reason alone, Giles would enjoy breaking her. Michael had once been his trainee, and it still galled him that the young man had not broken. Not once. Not even when Giles had gone so far as to almost kill him. Even then, Michael had shown no fear, nor had he begged for mercy. He would have died first and, for that, Giles could not forgive him. "Get up!" he shouted at Nikita.
"Leave me alone," she whispered, hating her weakness. But she couldn't take any more. Not today. Not after three, sleepless, nights. During her six months of freedom, Nikita had abandoned her disciplined, physical, regime. And she was paying for it now.
"I said, get up!" Giles snarled. He reached down and with one hand, hauled Nikita to her feet by her shirt-front. Once she was standing he released her with a shove.
Nikita stumbled back until she hit the wall. She caught her breath as pain rippled through her, then she bit back a cry as she saw Giles raise his hand. Nikita knew that he was going to hit her. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow, but it never came. Instead a familiar voice spoke sharply.
"Giles!"
Michael stood behind the big man. When Giles turned to face him, he could see that the other operative was enraged by Michael's interference.
Nikita was grateful. She slid down the wall and buried her face in her hands. But she was attuned to the exchange between Michael and Giles.
The giant glared at Michael. "You're not supposed to interfere!" he hissed, his eyes burning.
"Madeline wants to see you in her office," Michael replied, tonelessly. His own eyes were cool. He could see that Giles doubted him, but he was telling the truth. Madeline had called him just moments ago, asking that he send Giles to her. Michael could guess that she had been watching the sparring match between Nikita and her trainer, and that this summons was her way of giving Nikita a respite. For now. Whatever her reasons, Michael was grateful.
"You're going to be sorry," Giles declared, even as he stepped around Michael and headed for the door. He didn't dare ignore what might be the truth, so he would go and see Madeline. If Michael were lying, all the better. In the end, he would be punished for it, and Giles intended to be the one to inflict it.
Michael waited until Giles was out of sight before moving to crouch beside Nikita. With one hand he reached out and gently brushed back a pale lock of hair that had come free from her ponytail. "Are you all right?" he questioned, softly.
Nikita opened her eyes, uncaring that Michael would see the tears that shimmered in them. "I was wrong," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"About what?" Michael queried. He could almost feel Nikita's pain and weariness. If he could have, Michael would have taken it from her. But he knew that there was no way around the probationary period. He also knew that Nikita was not the only one being tested. During the War with Red Cell, Nikita had been unable to bear his pain. She had broken in the face of his torment and given up Section's new location. Michael knew that Madeline had chosen Giles to train Nikita because Michael knew what the man was capable of inflicting upon her. The pain she would be asked to bear was more than physical, and Madeline wanted to know whether or not Michael would be able to bear seeing it. Could he endure Nikita's suffering? It was a question he did not dare ask himself. His own pain and torment was easy to live with. But watching Nikita's agony, that was pushing Michael to the breaking point. And he knew it. So did Madeline. "What were you wrong about?" Michael prompted, when Nikita didn't respond to him.
"I can't do this," she confessed, biting her lip. 'I'm so tired, Michael. And scared." Nikita hadn't wanted to admit to being afraid, but she couldn't help it. What she kept secret was that her fears were for him, not herself.
Michael wanted to pull Nikita into his arms and offer what comfort he could. But that wouldn't help matters any. It wouldn't make things better. Nikita couldn't give up. He wouldn't let her. There was only one month left to go on her probation. "What are you afraid of?" he questioned, letting a touch of frost color his tone.
Nikita heard the change in his voice and it hurt her. She needed for Michael to understand how difficult this was for her. Why couldn't he see that she was doing this for him? But even as the thought occurred, understanding dawned. Maybe Michael didn't know that his fate was in her hands but, at the very least, he would know that she couldn't give up. Nikita was still uncertain of Michael's true feelings for her, and she wasn't about to make a full confession to him about her own heart but, regardless of that fact, a part of her felt that she owed a debt to him. For the past. For the times he had saved her life and watched over her...Like a guardian angel. Now it was time for her to watch over him.
Using the hem of her t-shirt to wipe the tears and sweat off her face, Nikita pushed against the wall and rose to her feet. Her muscles felt shaky, but she was able to make them do her bidding. That was a tiny victory, but it gave Nikita a sense of satisfaction. Locking eyes with Michael she gave him his answer. The one she knew he was hoping for. "Forget it," she drawled. "Forget I said anything. I'm tired so I'm rambling." A bit of her old fire flashed in her eyes. "This time, Michael, I really do get it," she said softly.
"Get what?" he countered, a frown furrowing his brow.
"That sometimes, we have to be cruel to be kind," Nikita replied. She knew that Michael's past manipulations and lies hadn't, neccessarily, been intended to hurt her. To inflict pain. At times she had been devasted, but she had healed and become stronger. A part of Nikita realized that Michael wanted her to be strong. She sensed that there was truth in what he had said. The difficulty being in seperating the truth from the lies. But that was for another time...another place. "I'm gonna go shower now," Nikita told him.
Michael nodded. "Try to get some sleep," he beseeched. The shadows beneath Nikita's eyes worried him.
She smiled at him and reached out to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Michael's hair was as soft as silk and she enjoyed the sensation for a moment before pulling her hand back. "I'll see you later," Nikita whispered. Then she stepped around him and left the room.
"Later.." Michael echoed, as he watched Nikita walk down the corridor until she was out of sight.
************
Madeline was sitting behind her desk when Michael entered her office. She noticed that he was limping slightly, favoring the leg that had taken a bullet while rescuing Nikita a month ago. Madeline had observed that Michael only limped when he was exhausted. It was as if in his weariness he no longer had complete control over himself. By the shadows beneath his eyes, it was apparent to her that he hadn't been sleeping. Madeline wondered if the nightmares that kept him awake were old or new. Perhaps a little of both. But that was not why she had called him here. "Come sit down, Michael," she offered in greeting, when he had reached her desk.
Michael considered declining her offer, then sensed that it was more of an order so he obeyed. Once seated he asked, "Is anything wrong?"
"No," Madeline replied, a smile curving her lips. "I wanted to brief you on your new assignment."
"I see," Michael replied, feeling a sense of relief. He had been afraid that he had been summoned to discuss Nikita. "Will I be working alone?" he questioned, since she had seen fit to call him into his office, rather than meeting in the conference room.
Madeline leaned back in her chair and the smile on her lips faded. "You'll be working with a partner," she said, her eyes flickering over to the stairs behind Michael. As if on cue, a young woman made her way down from the second level. She was of average height with fiery red hair and soft, golden-brown eyes. "This is Dawn," Madeline said, by way of introduction.
Michael stood up and turned to face the woman. He felt Madeline's eyes upon him and felt a knot form in his stomach. He could almost guess what she was up to. Another test. "Hello," he said, with cool politeness.
Dawn smiled at him. "It's nice to finally meet you, Michael," she countered, not being shy about giving him a thorough once-over. "I've heard alot about you."
"What's the mission?" Michael queried, turning away from Dawn to confront Madeline. He didn't care that he was being rude. Making friends wasn't high on his list of priorities.
"You and Dawn will portray a husband and wife team of drug dealers," Madeline replied. "You deal exclusively in ICE and you sell to the rich and famous."
Michael almost rolled his eyes. Husband and wife. Madeline was playing hard ball. "Who are we after?" he asked, being blunt.
Madeline knew what Michael was doing, and she was certain that he was angry. But he hid it well and she wasn't surprised. Hiding a smile, Madeline filled them in. "A high ranking, DEA official is believed to be working in connection with a Columbia drug lord who happens to have connections to some interesting people. The DEA official is out for a promotion, among other things, and we believe that he's made a deal with the Columbian to put a hit out on someone in the American government. Some one connected to the United Nations. Should the assassination be successful, the ties of peace that bind the UN would be severed and all hell would break loose. It's up to us to prevent that from happening." There were two CD's on her desk in cases, and Madeline held them out to Dawn and Michael. "Study your tacticals. Your plane leaves in six hours. In the mean time, get to know each other. You need to be believable as a happily, married, couple. The background I've created for you is included."
"Is that all?" Michael queried, as he accepted his CD.
"Not quite," Madeline countered. Reaching into her desk drawer, she pulled out two rings. Wedding bands. One look at Michael's face and she knew that he was remembering the last time he had been forced into this role. When he and Nikita had assumed the identities of Peter and Sage. They had fooled Bower completely. Madeline wondered how well Michael would do this time. To test him she gave the same command she had given before. "Let me see you kiss."
Michael was startled by the order, but knew better than to disobey. Madeline was trying to get a reaction out of him and he knew it. So be it then. He would give her what she wanted. Turning to face Dawn, Michael smiled, then he lifted his hands to cup her face. He saw the startled light in her brown eyes before he bent his head to claim her lips. Role playing was something that Michael was good at and he gave it his all.
Madeline was amused to see that Dawn was breathless by the time Michael broke the kiss. When he turned to look at her, she gave a slight incline of her head. An acknowledgement that he had won this round. A smile curved Madeline's lips as she watched Michael turn and glide out of her office. Then she turned to Dawn and said, "You can go." Once she was alone, Madeline heaved a sigh. One month left to go on Nikita's probation and she wondered who would survive.
************
Nikita sat on the floor of the exercise room and held an ice pack to her knee. She had twisted it during a fall while sparring with Giles. This time she had only herself to blame for the injury. She had not been focused on the work out, even though she had vowed to herself that she would take whatever Giles dished out, and give it right back to him. Her plan might have worked had he not distracted her before they had begun.
Giles had greeted Nikita was a smirk on his face, then he had taunted her with the fact that Michael wouldn't be around to protect her for the next few days. Nikita had refused to ask *why* but she didn't have too. Giles was eager to tell her that Michael was off on a mission with a female operative named Dawn. And that they were playing husband and wife. Memories of Bower and playing *Sage and Peter* had flashed in Nikita's head. She remembered how Bower had tried to force them to perform for him, when Michael wouldn't allow him to sleep with *Sage*. Nikita had prepared herself to make love to Michael. And it hadn't been hard to do. A part of her had wanted them too.
Thoughts of that time, and others, flittered through Nikita's head as she sparred with Giles. He knocked her down repeatedly and she kept getting up for more. But then he had decked her a good one, and s he had a bruise on her jaw to prove it. As she had fallen, Nikita's leg had twisted under her, wrenching her knee. She hadn't bothered going to Med Lab. There was no point in it. Regardless of the injury, she would be expected to perform tomorrow. A thought which brought back even more memories. Her first mission.
Nikita had believed that she and Michael were going out to dinner. Her first time out of Section in two years. But it had been a set up for her to engage in her first mission. At the time Nikita hadn't realized that had she failed, she would have been cancelled. That reality hadn't become clear until after she had escaped Section. But the thought she was focused on now was when Michael had explained to her, in the limo afterwards, that no matter what her state of mind, she had to be able to perform. Nikita sighed. That was a lesson she was still working on.
"Nikita...?"
Glancing up, Nikita was surprised to see Birkhoff standing in front of her. "Hiya," she said in greeting.
He grimaced, the closest he could come to a smile. "Listen...can we talk?" Birkhoff glanced around, nervously, as he spoke. He felt as if a million eyes were upon him.
"Sure," Nikita replied. She patted the space next to her. "Sit down." After Birkhoff had complied she asked, "What's on your mind?" She could see that he was highly agitated. A state of being she hadn't seen in Birkoff since the time she had helped him to confront his own mortatity.
"I wanted to talk to you about what happened," Birkhoff confessed. One hand lifted to pull of his glasses, the other ran over his close-cropped head. "About the explosion," he specified.
NIkita knew exactly what he meant. The suicide mission. "What about it?" she prompted. She could sense how difficult this was for Birkhoff, but she was curious.
Birkhoff heaved a sigh, then blurted out the question that had been haunting him for the past month. "How did you survive the blast?"
"Hmmmmmmm..." Nikita murmurred. "That's a loaded question, Birkhoff," she countered, a smile curving her lips. "Does it really matter?"
"It does to me," Birkhoff admitted. He had his theories, but he wasn't willing to share them. Especially since the truth could be deadly. Not to him, but to Michael. For Birkhoff had his suspicions that Michael had somehow helped Nikita escape. If that were true and Section ever found out, Birkhoff knew that Michael would be punished. Not neccessarily cancelled, but that might be the kinder fate. "I want to know what happened that night."
Nikita shrugged, but her eyes were locked with Birkhoff's. Surely he realized that she wasn't about to make a confession. Or, maybe he did. Maybe Madeline had sent him here to find out the truth. That thought frightened Nikita more than she liked to admit. Maybe she was finally learning some of the lessons that Michael had, painstakingly, tried to teach her. Such as...trust no one. Not even Birkhoff. Nikita smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I may not have a genius IQ, Birkhoff, but I'm not an idiot. It wasn't that difficult to realize that the other five operatives were from the abeyance pool. I'd never seen any of them before, and one of them admitted to me that he hadn't been out of Section for three months because he had messed up in Zaire. Gee...I had just messed up big time, with Stanley Shays. So I put two and two together."
Birkhoff was quiet for a long moment, contemplating what Nikita had told him. It made sense. "I want you to know something," he said suddenly.
"What?" Nikita prompted. She sensed his anxiety and it made her curious.
"I didn't know what the mission profile was that night," Birkhoff confessed. "Neither did Walter. Only Michael knew, and he didn't tell us until it was too late. But, even then, Walter tried to save you."
Nikita wasn't surprised. She knew that Walter had a true soft spot for her, that went deeper than his lecherous teasings. "I'll have to thank him for that," she said.
Birkhoff nodded, then made another confession. "Michael pulled a gun on him when he tried to stop the countdown." He told Nikita this because he was still fishing for answers to his questions.
"Michael did his job," Nikita replied, softly. She knew what Birkhoff was doing and a part of her resented it. But a bigger part understood that he was simply trying to figure things out. Just like she was. So she didn't get angry with him.
"Yeah...his job," Birkhoff responded, as he slowly rose to his feet. "I've got stuff to do," he said, turning to go.
Nikita called him back. She stood up too, but had to bite back a moan of pain. "Answer me a question?" she requested.
He nodded. "What?"
"After the explosion, when you thought I was dead...did you hate Michael?" Nikita's eyes were flashing as she spoke. Birkhoff's answer was important to her.
"I don't know," Birkhoff whispered. He closed his eyes then, once again, rubbed a hand over his head. His glasses still dangled from his fingers. All of the sudden he didn't want to see things clearly, for in his thoughts and his feelings were blurred. "Maybe," he allowed. Then he turned his back to the intensity of Nikita's gaze and walked away.
Nikita simply stood there, watching him go. Her eyes filled with sudden tears, for she suddenly recognized the weight of the burden that Michael was carrying. Just the sense of it seemed to press down upon Nikita, crushing her. She couldn't even image what it must be like for Michael, and it grieved her that she had added so much to his burden. Shouldering much of what should have been her load. And he had never once complained, Nikita realized. With a sniff and a shake of her head, Nikita left the arena wondering who was the bigger fool. Her...or Michael?
************* Dawn stood before Madeline's desk. She and Michael had returned from their mission just a few minutes ago. It had been a success. Michael had played his part to perfection and that was the report that Dawn gave Madeline now. It wasn't so much a debriefing, as an inquisition, with Madeline rapid-firing questions at Dawn about Michael's behavior. She told the truth. "Michael performed impeccably," Dawn announced. "He did everything by the book."
Madeline nodded. "Good," she drawled. Michael, she knew, was with Operations right now, being debriefed. She was glad that Michael had performed his duties as expected, but she sensed that he had made it a point to do so for he knew that he was being watched. Michael had learned, long ago, not to trust Section. That's part of what made him so valuable an operative. But it also labeled him as uncontrollable. Michael often took risks to get the job done. Calculated risks, to be certain. But risks, nonetheless. On top of that, Madeline knew that he had contacts and connections of his own that Section was not aware of. People from his past. "You can go Dawn," Madeline said, dismissing the young woman with an airy wave of one hand.
"Will you be needing me again?" Dawn asked, somewhat hopefully. She had enjoyed working with Michael, even though his role of *loving husband* had been only that, a role. He was an intriguing man.
"Perhaps later," Madeline allowed. "Return to your Washington post for now. I'll be in touch."
Dawn nodded, then turned and left the office. Madeline watched her go and resisted the urge to sigh. She was no closer now to discovering what made Michael tick than she had been eleven years ago when he had first come to Section. But that didn't mean she was going to give up trying. Madeline loved a challenge.
*************
Michael sat behind his desk, staring at the glowing, blank, screen on his monitor. He should have been typing up his report, but he was finding it hard to concentrate. A fact that had little to do with the headache that pounded in his temples. Rather, his thoughts were too chaotic as past memories came rushing over him in tidal waves. Michael felt as if he were drowing in a pool of black water. At first the images were dark. Images of Simone as she was shot down almost four years ago. Then the memory of the explosion taken her from him a second time. This time by her own hand. And then there was the shimmering image of his son. It frightened Michael that he couldn't see his child's face clearly. That he was slipping away from him, soon to be forgotten. But then there came a ripple of light. And Michael saw Nikita's face, and he could hear her husky voice.
After Simone's death, when Michael had denied the right to feel cheated by her loss and Section's part in it, Nikita had told him that he had the right to feel whatever he wanted. And then there was darkness again, but more a shade of gray than true black. Angie. She had died for him and Nikita had felt regret for her passing. So had Michael, and it had felt good to share that admission with someone. And the words that Michael had said to Nikita during the War with Red Cell came back to haunt him as well. She was the only one of them that still had a soul and Michael feared that it would soon fade to black.
A smile curved Michael's lips as he remembered back to a time when Nikita had been pure attitude. Like when they had been briefed by Madeline for the assignment to infiltrate Bower's domain. Nikita had asked Michael if she had to love, honor and obey him as he had slipped on a wedding band on to her slender finger. Part of their cover as Peter and Sage. He had told her to 'just obey' and Nikita had shot back with 'that's allright. It's only till death do us part'. Her eyes had flashed blue sparks as if she were issuing a challenge to him. Michael missed that fire.
Nikita had a spirit that couldn't be tamed, an inner strength that made her the strongest person he knew. Such as when he'd had to order her beaten and nearly killed. Michael had gone to Nikita's bedside to apologize for what had happened and she had brushed it off with a smile of resignation. In that moment her courage had been luminous. Michael had been so proud of her. He still was. Nikita was a survivor. She was swimming in shark infested waters, her wounded heart and soul bleeding, sending the predators into a feeding frenzy. But she was still in one piece. That was more than Michael could say for himself. He had shattered long ago and the pieces of his soul had been scattered or lost. There wasn't enough of them left to sweep up and put back together. Although a part of Michael could almost believe that Nikita was the glue that held together the piece or two of his humanity that still clung to him.
The shrill ring of the phone startled Michael out of his reverie. It was Birkhoff. Michael was needed to oversee an mission in progress that had run into trouble. The team leader was dead and the mission was in jeopardy. "I'll be right there," Michael said quietly. He hung up the phone, switched off the computer then left his office. As he strode down the hallway, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the interruption. All he had...all he knew...was the job. The one thing that threatened Nikita's sanity was the very thing that kept Michael from losing his. The irony of that fact was not lost on him. It was simply another another crack in the shell of his already fragile heart.
************* Madeline called Nikita into her office. She wanted to talk to the beautiful, young woman about Michael. The moment Nikita was seated in the chair across from her desk, Madeline began. "Are you in love with Michael?" she asked, bluntly.
Nikita reacted as if she had been slapped. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she gazed at Madeline in stunned disbelief. "Love...Michael?" she repeated. "Where did that come from?"
"You're attracted to him," Madeline pointed out. Her eyes never wavered from Nikita's face.
"There's a world of difference between physical attraction to someone and love," Nikita countered softly. She had recovered from her surprise and now faced Madeline with a smile on her face. "Most of the women here at Section are attracted to Michael," Nikita drawled. "I'll bet you find him...attractive...as well."
Madeline knew she was being baited and it amused her. "I do," she acknowledged, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
There was a glimmer in Madeline's eyes that intrigued Nikita. That, and her tone of voice as she had acknowledged being attracted to Michael. Nikita remembered the first time she had met Madeline. Michael had told her that she was going to meet her new Mother. But she had often wondered what kind of relationship he shared with the dark-haired woman. Was it of a motherly nature as well? Somehow Nikita doubted that. Silently, she decided that there was no time like the present for finding out. "Tell me, Madeline," Nikita entreatied, "Just how well do you know Michael?"
"I assume your asking if I know him in a biblical sense?" Madeline countered coolly. But she wasn't offended by the question.
"Just curious," Nikita admitted. "The relationship you have with him confuses me."
Madeline knew that Nikita was trying to distract her from making her talk about her feelings for MIchael. And, for the moment, she allowed it. It would be interesting in itself to see how Nikita reacted to the truth. "Confuses you in what way?" she countered, playing along.
Nikita shrugged. The fingers of one hand twisted a lock of her pale hair as she searched for the words to explain herself. "I dunno....I guess I can't define what's between the two of you. There was a time that I thought you and Michael were close to being equals. But then I realized that you're definitely his superior."
"That's right," Madeline confirmed. "But Michael is of a higher status that any other operative," she allowed. "Higher than you might realize."
"Really?" Nikita drawled. Then she laughed, a bitter sound. "Funny, but I get the impression that you use and abuse Michael as much as you do the rest of us lowly operatives. Course...he's not a red shirt. Then again, maybe that would be preferable."
Madeline leaned forward in her chair, suddenly very intrigued by the turn this conversation was taking. She would learn more about Nikita's feelings in this manner than through direct questioning. "Meaning what?" she prompted,as she sensed a burning anger in Nikita. The beautiful blond was becoming defensive in Michael's behalf.
Nikita fought to control her anger, and won. But that didn't stop her from answering Madeline's question. Nikita didn't think about the consequences in doing so. "Meaning, how much hell are you going to put Michael through before you're satisfied?" she replied, her eyes flashing blue sparks. "You lied to him about Simone being dead." Nikita locked eyes with Madeline. "If you try and deny knowing that she was alive, I won't believe you," she warned.
When Madeline didn't respond, Nikita continued. "Then there was the *rescue* of Petrosian. You know...I've thought about that, alot. I think the whole mission was a set up. After all, you said that Petrosian help arrange blowing up the chemical plant. And Michael got left behind because the explosives didn't work. Walter's explosives," Nikita made a point of clarifying. "Walter's gadgets always work. But this one didn't. And the driver in the van...he took off just as Michael reached the fence. Two bullets in him and he kept going. We could have waited the extra seconds. But we didn't."
"So....you think that Michael was left behind on purpose," Madeline interjected. When Nikita nodded she smiled. "If that were true, why wouldn't we tell Michael about it? You have to admit, he was surprised to see Petrosian step out of the chopper," Madeline reminded Nikita.
"I don't know why," Nikita admitted. "I would never claim to understand why you do any of the things that you do. Why send Michael in to be captured by Red Cell? He's your best operative. Why not leak the substation location to an operative you knew would break and confess?" Nikita countered. She felt it was time to lay all the cards on the table. "Why go through the whole charade?"
Madeline leaned forward to rest her clasped hands on her desk top. "There is a purpose for everything we do, Nikita," she said soflty.
Nikita grinned. "And ours is not to reason why....ours is just to do or die," she quoted, sardonically.
"Pretty much," Madeline acknowledged. She was about to say more but her phone rang. She answered it, listened, then said, "I'll be right there." Hanging up, she locked eyes with Nikita. "We'll talk again...later," she declared, letting the other woman know that this conversation was far from over.
"Sure," Nikita drawled. "I'm looking forward to it." And she was. For once, Nikita felt that she had won the match in the ongoing game between her and Madeline. She was still smiling as she watched the dark-haired woman leave the office. When the doors whooshed shut, Nikita relaxed in her chair and heaved a sigh. For the moment she had a respite. But soon, Madeline would expect her to confess her feelings towards Michael. Nikita knew that the other woman would know if she lied. Nikita grimaced as she pushed out of the chair and headed for the door herself. She suddenly realized that Madeline had tied her for points. After all, the other woman had never explained her relationship with Michael. Once again, Madeline had diverted Nikita's attention into the direction that she desired. "Touche, Madeline," Nikita whispered, and a shadow of sadness danced in her eyes.
************** There were two weeks of training left. Giles knew his time was running out, so he pushed Nikita harder than ever. He was using his bull strength against her as they fought and he smiled with satisfaction as he sent Nikita crashing into the wall. She hit hard and moaned, then slid to the floor. Giles stepped forward to loom over her. He saw a flash of red and anger stirred his blood. Reaching down to grasp a handful of Nikita's shirt-front, he hauled her to her feet. His right hand curled into a fist and Giles was about to put Nikita's lights out, when he felt a hand grip his wrist and yank him back.
Snarling with rage, Giles released Nikita and whirled around to face Michael. He attempted to free himself of the younger man's grip, but suddenly found himself on his knees and biting back a cry of pain.
Michael's eyes were like chips of ice as he glared down at Giles. He had been watching the giant sparring with Nikita from his office, and knew that the trainer was about to cross the line. So now he was doing what he had been forbidden to do. Michael was interferring. But he didn't give a damn. Let Operations cancel him. "Back off," he whispered, as he twisted Giles's wrist almost to the breaking point. His thump was jammed into the pressure point in the other man's palm, so Michael knew he had total control.
"Let go of me!" Giles hissed. He had to blink back tears of pain as Michael tightened his grip. Finally he spat, "OKAY..OKAY! I'll back off! Just let go, dammit!" But even as he made he request, he found himself freed. Panting hard, Giles massaged his hand and wrist. "You went too far this time, Michael," he drawled, feeling his arrogance surge to the forefront, now that the pain was receding. He had taught Michael how to fight dirty, and now he would teach the ungrateful bastard how to die.
"You're the one who went to far," Michael replied. He glanced over at Nikita who was watching him through narrowed eyes. Michael knew that she didn't have the strength to protest his interferrence, but Nikita's eyes begged him to back off. Michael looked away from her, back at Giles. And just in time to duck as the other man's huge fist swung at his head. As Michael rose back up he spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick to Giles' jaw. He heard a *crack* and then a howl of pain. He had broken the man's jaw.
"Noooo.." Nikita hissed. She knew that Michael would be punished for what he had just done, and she would have given anything to prevent it. But they both knew it was too late.
Michael stared at Giles for a moment, then he went over to the panel on the wall and put in a call for Med Lab to send a team to the exercise arena. After that he went to Nikita and helped her to her feet.
Nikita held on to his arm when he would have turned away. "Where are you going?" she asked, her eyes locked on his beautiful face. His eyes were cold and masked.
"To face the consequences," Michael whispered. He freed himself from Nikita's grasp and walked out of the room.
************ Operations paced back in forth in short bursts, for several minutes, before stopping to confront Michael. The younger man had been standing in the center of his office, hands clasped before him, waiting patiently. That, alone, had infuriated Operations. Michael's calm facade. "You were told not to interfere!" Operation's hissed. His eyes glittered like chips of frosted ice.
Michael didn't deny it. "Giles would have killed Nikita," he replied. It wasn't to defend himself, he was simply stating a fact.
"You don't know that!" Operations shot back.
"Yes...I do," Michael whispered. He held Operations' gaze without flinching.
Operations realized that Michael didn't care what happened to him. He knew that the young man wasn't afraid to die, but he was surprised by his willfull disobedience and he knew that Nikita was to blame for it. Not for the first time, Operations regretted that he hadn't pushed Michael to cancel her as he had first ordered the young man to do a year and a half ago. For now, he took a deep breath pushed back his anger. "Finish training Nikita," he ordered, knowing that he would surprise Michael. Operations almost laughed at the reaction to his words. The other man was stunned and unable to hide it.
Michael made an attempt to control his reaction. It wasn't easy, but he managed to pull his mask back in place. He wanted to ask...why? But knew he wouldn't receive the truth, even if Operations was willing to give him an answer. So Michael merely nodded. "Is that all?" he queried.
"That's all," Operations confirmed. He watched Michael glide out of the room, then moved over to the window to wait for him to appear below. "Don't disappoint me, Michael," Operations whispered, then he turned back to the reports that awaited him.
************ Michael was in his office, working on a report, when Nikita appeared. He had been expecting her. Glancing up from his monitor Michael queried, "Yes?"
Nikita moved to stand before his desk, but took a minute to respond. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, so putting her thoughts into words was difficult. She took a few deep breaths as she studied him. He looked almost too calm. "Are you okay?" she finally said.
"Fine," Michael replied. "Is that all?"
"No," Nikita shot back, dropping into the chair. "Michael, you have to stop taking the heat for me," she declared, knowing that there was no need to explain what she was referring to.
Michael shrugged, broad shoulders flexing against the material of his black jacket. "I didn't," he replied, softly.
Nikita rolled her eyes. They both knew that was a lie. She tried again. "You can't go on protecting me."
"I'm not," Michael countered, his tone becoming colder.
"I don't believe you," Nikita challenged. When Michael simply stared back at her she changed tactics once again. "Michael...I came back to Section on my own terms, and I'm going to survive...on my own terms." Nikita waited for him to respond, but he remained, stubbornly, silent. So she sighed then said," What happens now?"
Michael let his eyes fall onto the monitor screen. He typed in a few commands then replied, "I finish your training."
"Just like that?" Nikita countered, not even attempting to hide her surprise. At Michael's nod she laughed, then moved around the desk to confront him. She could guess that it was Operations' doing. It would be just like him. "Don't you wonder why?"
"I don't ask questions that I know I won't get the answers to," Michael replied, glancing back up from the screen and letting his eyes flicker over her face. There were dark smudges beneath her beautiful eyes. "Get some sleep, Nikita," Michael advised her. "We start tomorrow morning, five AM."
She grimaced at him, but then a smile curved her lips. "Those words sound familiar," Nikita whispered. When Michael didn't respond, and kept his eyes locked on his monitor screen, she reached out and threaded her fingers in his hair, forcing his head back so that he had to look at her. "Sweet dreams, Michael," Nikita whispered, as she bent her head and brushed her mouth across his in a gentle kiss. Then she released him and walked away, without a backward glance. But once she was far enough down the corridor so that Michael couldn't see her, Nikita pressed her fingertips to her lips and smiled.
THE END
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