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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.
SPOILER WARNING! This story makes use of the spoilers for the first three eps of SEASON 3. Turn back if you don't want to know! Note from 2005: This was written before the beginning of Season 3 and was based on the rumors of how Season 2 was supposed to have ended TPTB decided to change the ending of Season 2 after the word leaked out. . (See the deleted scene on the Season 2 DVD) --Jaron
Michael was surprised to see Nikita waiting for him in his office. It was barely dawn and he hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours. Whatever Nikita wanted to say to him, Michael knew he was not ready for. Yet he did not turn away. Michael glided in the room and closed the door, not acknowledging Nikita's presence until he was seated behind his desk. "Yes?" he queried, gazing into Nikita's glowing eyes.
She nodded at his desk, a signal to deactivate the surveillance mode. Nikita held her breath when Michael simply stared at her, then he raised his hand and did as she wished. Once she knew it was safe to talk, Nikita released the breath on a sigh then straightened in her chair. Funny, she reflected on an off beat, that from the first day she had entered Michael's office, she had considered this chair her own. Shaking her head, Nikita made a concentrated effort to focus on the present, and the reason why she was there. "I know what your secret is, Michael," she whispered.
"What secret?" he countered, not revealing how stunned he was by her simple words. For the look on Nikita's face was one of sorrow and wisdom. As if she had, indeed, learned a truth about him. But what truth could that be, Michael pondered silently.
"I know about your... wife," Nikita drawled, leaning forward in her chair as she gazed at Michael. She watched him grow pale and felt like cheering. "You're daughters are beautiful, Michael," Nikita continued. "What are their names?"
Michael swallowed past the dryness in his throat and forced himself to reply calmly. "Rose and Jeanette," he whispered.
Nikita nodded. She was pleased that he had not denied the truth. That, for once, he was being honest with her. As honest as Michael could be. "And your wife?" Nikita prompted. "What's her name?"
"Roxanne." Michael breathed the name then fell silent, letting it fill the air between them. After a moment he stated, "You followed me."
"Yes," Nikita confirmed, with a sense of pride. "I wanted to make sure you were all right, Michael."
He was surprised by the confession. "Why?" Michael queried, unable to hold the intensity of Nikita's gaze. So he dropped his eyes to his lap, seeing his knuckles turning white as his clasped fingers clenched at each other in an attempt to help control the surge of reaction that threatened Michael's control.
Nikita heaved a sigh. She felt sadness that he would have to ask. "You've been under a lot of stress and pressure in the past year, Michael," she began. "What with the incident with Rene, then being captured and drugged by Red Cell and losing your memory. Then there was my betrayal connected to the Adrian fiasco."
"Just another day in Section One," Michael countered, feeling the need to turn Nikita's focus off of himself. He didn't want her pity.
"You're not a machine, Michael," Nikita interjected, offering a rather deflated smile. "You do a rather good imitation of the Terminator at times," she allowed. "But I'm beginning to understand you."
Michael found that hard to believe. And it was far too danger a concept for his peace of mind. "Why have you come here, Nikita?" he challenged, wanting nothing more than to push her out the door. But Michael knew that Nikita would not be pushed away this time. She wanted answers to the thousands of questions that he had ignored for the past five years. Answers that she deserved. So Michael remained seated, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "What do you want from me?" Michael prompted, giving the Nikita the opening he knew she had been waiting for.
Nikita was grateful to Michael for making this easy on her. For not blowing her off yet again. To return the favor she would try to make this confrontation as painless as possible for them both. "You told me once that you were conflicted. And that although I knew alot about you... I didn't know everything. That there were things that had to remain secret, but that those things had no effect upon your feelings for me."
"That's right," Michael conceded. "But now you know everything, Nikita."
"Do you love Roxanne?" The question came blurting out of Nikita and she wished she could have swallowed it back. But it was too late now, so she locked eyes with Michael and dared him to lie to her once more.
Michael inhaled a shaky breath. He was not prepared to deal with Nikita on an emotional level, but that was what she was demanding of him. Right here, right now. Although she knew the secret, Nikita was ignorant of the details and Michael was not at liberty to share them with her. Yet, something deep inside Michael compelled him to tell her the truth. But even as he opened his mouth to reply, the phone rang.
Nikita jumped at the sound, then she glared at the device. She could guess who was on the other end. "Answer it," she invited, graciously, knowing that Michael would have done so regardless of her reaction.
"Yes?" Michael spoke into the receiver. He listened a moment then hung up. Locking eyes with Nikita once more he stated, "Madeline wants to see you."
"What a surprise," Nikita drawled, as she rose to her feet. No doubt Section had bugged Michael's office in ways he had yet to discover, so the fact that she had learned his secret was not a secret anymore. "This isn't finished between us, Michael," Nikita stated, as she reached the door and yanked it open.
He nodded. "I know that," Michael whispered, as he blinked back at Nikita.
She smiled at him then strode off. Had she looked back, Nikita would have been surprised to see a tear roll down Michael's face.
***********
Nikita surged into Madeline's office, having decided that her best bet would be to be on the defense. Once the door had whooshed shut behind her, Nikita faced Madeline and stated, "You know that I know!"
Madeline turned her attention from her monitor screen and smiled at Nikita. A cold, knowing, smile. "Did you doubt that we would?"
"Not for a minute," Nikita acknowledged, her own smile a mirror of Madeline's. "After all, you implanted me with an internal clock. You've bugged my apartment in the past, and no doubt have done so again. Of course you would be keeping an eye on Michael too, especially after this past year."
"That's an odd comment to make," Madeline countered, her curiosity piqued. And her simple statement was intended to evoke an explanation from Nikita.
It worked, but only because Nikita wanted to explain. "You've suspected Michael of helping me to escape Section a year ago and that his bringing me back was simply a cover up for failing to cancel me as ordered. So you sicced Jurgen on us, knowing his past with Michael and how I would react. Testing Michael yet again." Nikita paused a moment to shake her head. "You see, Madeline," she began. "All this time I believed that I was being tested, and that Michael was a part of it. But it's really Michael who you've been testing. And well you should."
Madeline leaned forward in her chair, highly intrigued by Nikita's words. "Do go on," she invited, her cold smile plastered in place. Not a glimmer of what she was thinking, or might be feeling, was revealed. Yet Madeline was a surprisingly emotional being. Just as Michael was. But she had taught him well how to control it. Teaching Operations and Nikita the same control was another matter.
"You never stop testing Michael!" Nikita hissed. "He tried to tell me that, to make me believe it... but I never listened to him. You tested him with Simone, with Jurgen, Rene. And the incident with Adrian... that was the granddaddy of all tests. Although... this married with children bit is pretty much over the top."
"It's a mission, Nikita," Madeline replied. "Long term. Michael had been involved in it for seven years. From the time he first met Roxanne."
Nikita nodded. "You mean, from the time you sent him to appear in her life and mess it up for her."
Madeline let her smile fade. "Would you like to hear the background of this mission?" she queried, gesturing for Nikita to take a seat. "I'm rather proud of this profile. It's served us well for the past seven years in ways you can't even image, Nikita."
"Do tell," Nikita countered, as she plopped into the chair. She was all ears for this one. Madeline had never, in the past, volunteered to explain anything. Certainly nothing involving Michael. So Nikita was intrigued, to say the least.
************
"Roxanne's father Trenton Fargate, is an international terrorist," Madeline began. "Roxanne is unaware of her father's... business. She thinks he's in real estate, and he uses that as a front."
Nikita nodded. "So you sent Michael in to marry the daughter and get close to the father. To work at his side and be the SON who can take over the business someday."
Madeline shook her head. "Not at all. Both Roxanne and her father believe Michael to be an international art dealer. Exactly the kind of man Trenton Fargate wanted his daughter to marry. Someone not in the business.
"How is it possible to keep the truth from either of them?" Nikita interjected. "Michael is always here. Or gone on missions. When he does see his wife how does he explain the long absences... not to mention the bullet holes and various other wounds and scars?"
"What scars?" Madeline countered. "You don't have any, Nikita, and you've seen Michael naked. His skin is smooth."
Nikita felt her face flush red, thinking that Madeline was referring to the night she and Michael had spent on the boat. Their one, true, secret together. But then she realized that Madeline meant the time they had played husband and wife on a mission and were being watched. "Laser surgery," she drawled. Section had the best of the best to treat its operatives. And it made sense to keep Michael flawless, considering all the Valentine work he was asked to do. "What about his long absences?" Nikita prompted.
Madeline leaned back in her chair again and smiled. "Roxanne understands the nature of Michael's work. He has clients all over the world. That means lots of travel. She's content with their life together, believing that Michael loves her and the children."
************
"What about Daddy Trenton?" Nikita countered, pursuing her own line of reasoning. "He isn't suspicious of his son in law's activities?"
"Trenton Fargate is kept preoccupied by living his own lie," Madeline replied. "He's content that Michael makes his daughter happy and has given him grandchildren. Nothing else matters in that part of his life."
Nikita was silent for a moment, contemplating what she heard. "So why tell me all this?" she challenged.
"I tried warning you to stay away from Michael," Madeline countered. "But you seem destined to be a part of his life. So be it. Now you will also be a part of his cover."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nikita shot back, rising from her chair as a chill rippled through her. She knew it could only mean one thing, but she needed to hear it outloud.
Madeline complied. "Tomorrow you're going to meet, and become a part of, Michael's family."
The silence that followed Madeline's pronouncement echoed so loudly in the air between them, that it could have awakened the dead. ***********
It had been three days and Nikita still felt like Alice in Wonderland. She was in Michael's home, with his family. The wife and children. Nikita wanted to hate them but she found that impossible to do. Roxanne was too nice and the four year old twin girls, Rose and Jeanette, were adorable.
What surprised Nikita the most was the fact that she was not upset at seeing Michael playing house with Roxanne. It had taken three days for Nikita to figure out why. The reason was simple, it was obvious to Nikita that despite the fact that Michael treated Roxanne with warmth and tenderness, he did not love her. Or, perhaps, it was simply that she was seeing only what she wanted to see. With his daughters Michael was an entirely different person. Even with Roxanne, Nikita felt like she was watching a stranger. Michael was open and smiled often while playing his role, but with the twins Nikita could tell that he was not acting. Michael genuinely loved the girls. And, for once, Nikita had no doubts. She was positive that Rose and Jeanette were Michael's daughters for they had his eyes and his curly hair. And their tiny mouths held the promise of sensual poutiness that Nikita found so appealing in Michael.
"Would you like some coffee, Nikita?"
"What?" Nikita countered, jumping at the sound of Roxanne's voice at her elbow. The woman was smiling and holding out a coffee mug steaming with the fragrant brew. "Oh," Nikita replied, smiling back. "Thank you."
Roxanne apologized as Nikita took the mug. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said softly. She was an attractive woman with black hair and brown eyes and a musically soft voice.
Nikita shrugged. "That's okay," she assured the other woman. "I was daydreaming." As she spoke her eyes returned to Michael, who was seated at the kitchen table, a twin on each knee. He was laughing at something one of them was saying and the sound was sweet to Nikita's ears. "I really can't thank you enough for taking me into your home like this, Roxanne," Nikita stated, slipping into the role she was playing.
The background that Madeline had created was brilliant. Nikita hated to admit it, but it would do exactly what Madeline wanted it to do. Cause contention in Michael's marriage, and bring Trenton Fargate back into the fold. But that didn't mean that Nikita liked what she was doing. Still, she found herself accepting the part and deep down she knew why. As much as Nikita liked Roxanne as a person, she didn't like the idea of the woman being Michael's wife. The image of the two of them in bed together made Nikita's toes curl. She wanted Michael for herself. Yes, this was only a mission and it was obvious, to Nikita anyway, that Michael was simply going through the motions when it came to playing the loving husband to Roxanne. But she still wanted the mission to be over.
That was why Nikita was there. To bring it to an end by playing the part of an old friend of Michael's. Madeline knew Roxanne well, had studied the young woman based on the information that Michael had given her over the past seven years, and had determined that Roxanne would accept Nikita into the household, even though all that Michael had told her about Nikita was that she was in trouble and needed his help.
But as time passed, Nikita would give Roxanne reason to believe that she was competition for Michael's affection. Michael would attempt to reassure Roxanne otherwise, but keep her off kilter emotionally. Something he did very well as Nikita knew from personal experience. Given Roxanne's connection to her father, the fact that she relied on him for emotional support, it was a given that she would run to him to take care of the problem in her life. Nikita being the problem of course. It was then expected that Trenton Fargate would run a check on Nikita and discover that she was connected to certain terrorist factions. That she and Michael had been lovers in the past, and that would light the fire of doubt in Trenton. He would continue to find out things about Michael that would suggest that his son-in-law might suddenly become competition for him.
So far, everything had played out as Madeline had profiled it to do. Roxanne had taken Nikita under her wing, but Nikita sensed that the other woman was more possessive of Michael since her arrival, than she would normally be. But such thoughts had to be shook aside so that Nikita could focus her attention on the moment.
Roxanne glided over to the table to check on Michael's progress with breakfast as she responded to Nikita. "You don't have to thank me," she stated warmly. "Any friend of my husband's is a friend of mine. Right Michael?"
"Of course," Michael replied, offering a smile to Roxanne. He saw love shining in her eyes and it made him want to flinch Roxanne did not deserve what was going to happen. If only because she had given him two beautiful children. Kissing the little girls on their chubby cheeks, Michael then rose smoothly to his feet, setting them down in the chair he had vacated. "I have some errands to run," he declared, moving now to wrap an arm around Roxanne's waist and kiss her goodbye.
"Mind if I come with you?" Nikita ventured, all part of the plan.
Michael smiled at her. He was proud of how well Nikita had done on the mission so far. Michael had fully expected her to have an attitude about it all, but Nikita had been strictly professional. A welcome relief. "I would enjoy the company," Michael said smoothly. "We have a lot of catching up to do, Nikita." His words were meant to spark jealousy in his wife. His words and the warm look that Michael gave Nikita.
Nikita could see that Michael was playing his part to perfection, for fire flashed in Roxanne's dark eyes, but she smothered it quickly. Nikita hid her own sadness at what had to be, but she was looking forward to spending a few hours alone with Michael. On the drive back to Section, she would ask him all the questions that had been haunting her for the past three days. And Nikita was determined to get answers from Michael, even if she had to drag them out of him. So she smiled at Roxanne and waved goodbye, pausing by the table to give the twins a hug. Rose and Jeanette had taken a shine to Nikita and she found herself falling in love with them as well.
"Ready?" Michael asked, his eyes bright as he watched Nikita with his daughters. He could so easily imagine her with a beautiful blond girl of her own. Their child. But Michael shook away the image to turn to Roxanne. "We'll be back by dinner," he promised.
"I'm making your favorite," Roxanne told him as she claimed a kiss. "So don't be late."
Nikita took the moment to ad lib. "I'll see that he gets us back on time," she drawled, her eyes glancing over Michael as if she were hungry and he was a particularly delicious piece of meat. Which, of course, he was. Beautiful, sexy and deadly. That was Michael.
Roxanne forced a smile as she walked Michael and Nikita to the door. "Have a good day," she called out after them. Only once Michael had driven off down the road and was out of sight did Roxanne close the door and let the tears she had been holding back, fall. ***********
Michael tried to concentrate on his driving as opposed to the woman seated beside him, but Nikita was difficult to ignore. Especially when she was silent. He was always waiting for her to pounce, knowing that she was biding her time. Michael felt a ripple of anxiety for what was to come, for he knew that Nikita had questions. Hard question. He also knew she deserved answers, and he wanted to be able to give them to her. Honest answers.
"Do you love her?" The question tumbled from Nikita's lips. Not what she had intended to ask, not consciously, but it seemed to be the most important question. She had to know if her instincts were right. "Do you love... Roxanne?" Nikita prompted, when Michael remained silent, eyes straight ahead on the road.
"No," Michael whispered, feeling a sense of relief. The last time Nikita had asked him that question, in his office, Madeline had interrupted his reply. This time there would be no intrusion to hinder the moment of truth. "I respect and admire Roxanne," Michael continued, his eyes still glued to the road. But he could feel the heat of Nikita's gaze upon him.
She wanted to squirm in her seat as she listened. A part of Nikita was thrilled at Michael's reply, but a part of her was saddened. "Why children, Michael? Why let that happen? To play house? To pretend you have a family?" Knowing the answers to these questions was most important of all to Nikita. It would determine he true evaluation of Michael's worth. His heart and soul. Whether or not he had truly turned to the dark side of his nature and all the times she had seen him be honest and warm and tender had been nothing more than the act she had once accused him of.
Michael made a sudden decision. He turned down a side road then pulled over so that he could look at Nikita. He had to see her eyes as he spoke. To see what she was thinking and feeling towards him. "The mission was supposed to be real... to Roxanne," Michael began, resisting the urge to flinch as he spoke. He had suffered much guilt because of this charade. Storing it up as the years passed. "A real marriage includes children, Nikita. And Roxanne desperately wanted a family. So I was instructed to let nature take it's course."
"What about you, Michael?" Nikita challenged. "Did you want children too? I've watched you with the twins. You love them." It was a simple statement of fact, not an accusation, but Nikita found the words difficult to speak.
"It was in the nature of the character I was playing to want them as well," Michael responded, his eyes dipping downward to his hands which gripped the steering wheel. He watched his knuckles turn white, it was better than watching Nikita's disgust when he told her the rest of the story. "There were three children," Michael whispered.
Nikita closed her eyes as understanding dawned. "A son," she breathed, remembering what Dominic of Red Cell had said when she and Michael had been captured. And Michael's later comment that Simone had never been pregnant. "He died," Nikita continued, opening her eyes and locking them on Michael's profile. She watched him turn pale and could feel pain radiate from him in a wave. Honest emotion, what Nikita had always wanted from Michael. But it was devastating, for all he had to share with her was his pain. Section had given him nothing but pain, grief, guilt and shame. It broke Nikita's heart.
Michael wanted to bolt out of the car and run. Run far and fast till his legs wouldn't hold him, then to simply sink into dark oblivion. But he didn't move, didn't waver. For him, running had never been an option. His only recourse for surviving Section had been denial. Denial of his true emotions. Denial of any hope of happiness. Denial that he was worthy of anything good and decent. Like Nikita. Like the children he adored. He loved them more than life itself but denied himself the right to even feel that joy. "His name was Dustin... he would have been six years old now."
"I'm sorry," Nikita whispered, blinking back a tear. She fell silent for a moment, giving them both time to deal with the moment. But then she had to say what was on her mind. "Section did kill him... didn't they, Michael?" Nikita stated, her eyes become cold and a sense of fierce protectiveness washing over her. She wanted to protect Michael from the pain he had suffered, and suffered still. It vibrated in every fiber of his being, humming like a live wire. "They killed Dustin as a warning... to you."
"Yes..." Michael breathed, speaking what his heart had believed for five years. But that was all he could say. Anything more and he would break down. The shields he had so carefully erected would shatter.
Nikita reached out and touched his arm. "What did you do... when it happened?"
Michael turned to face Nikita then, letting her see the shimmer of tears in his eyes. "What could I do?" he countered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Roxanne was pregnant again, just two months along, with the twins." Michael watched as Nikita reached out a hand to touch him and he flinched away before she could. Her touch and her compassion would be his undoing. It was too late to take back the truth, but Michael tried to repair the rift he had just created. "Perhaps... it was just a warning," he hissed. "A warning that went too far." For five years Michael had tried to convince himself that Section had not intended for Dustin to die. That it had been a tragic mistake."
"No, Michael!" Nikita shot back, reaching out with both hands now to clamp his face between them. To make Michael look at her even as she made him look at the ugly truth. "Section killed your son. But they did more than that," Nikita continued, determination glinting in her blue eyes. "They took Simone from you as well... so that you could focus on the mission. On Roxanne." Nikita felt Michael flinch but would not let him pull away. "Ever since I found her that day, I wondered," Nikita confessed. "Section knows everything. They knew Simone was alive. Operations knew... that's why he didn't want you on the first team. But when you persisted, he had to let you or you would become suspicious."
"Nikita..." Michael begged, and he was relieved when she released him. He stumbled out of the car and over to the ditch at the side of the road. Hunched over, Michael heaved up the contents of his stomach until it was achingly empty.
Nikita was by his side as Michael wretched, wanting to offer comfort but knowing it would not be appreciated in this moment. So she waited for the sickness to pass, but tears burned in her eyes as she watched Michael stand upright and move back towards the car. She could see him trying to draw his mask and his shields back into place. But he was unsuccessful. His attempt to walk failed and Michael fell to his knees. Nikita was beside him in a heartbeat, her arms wrapping around him, feeling him tremble. "I'm sorry, Michael," she whispered.
Michael fought to hold back the tears that burned in his eyes, but when he felt Nikita's tears against his temple, the dam inside him burst. All his guilt and regret, the pain and grief that he had locked away for so long came flooding through. In desperation Michael clung to Nikita, burying his face in her neck as he wept, letting her be his strength. And it was not such a surprising thing to do, for from the moment they had met, Nikita had been the strong one. It was the one truth Michael had fought against the most, yet would never deny.
***********
Michael stared at Madeline in disbelief. "Why?" he asked, his tone not as detached as he would have liked.
Madeline offered a cold smile. "Because it's time to move to the next level, Michael," she replied softly. "We need to bring this mission to closure."
"Of course," Michael concurred, because it was expected of him. He wanted to say more, to argue the profile that Madeline had drawn up, but to do so would reveal too much. Would arouse too much suspicion. "Is that all?" Michael asked, feeling anxious to leave as it felt as if the walls of Madeline's office were closing in on him.
"You may go," Madeline allowed, knowing that Michael had been stunned by her announcement. He was hiding it well, but not completely. "Study the profile and let me know if you foresee any changes being necessary."
Michael nodded then turned on his heel and left. As he glided down the corridor he had to force himself to breath deeply and calmly. A cold sweat had broken out, sheening his skin and he felt as if he were apart from his body. An observer watching through a looking glass.
Once in his office, Michael tossed the PDA Madeline had given him onto his desk as if it were tainted in some way. And it was. Madeline's orders were simple and direct. Kill Roxanne. The reason? To bring her father out of hiding.
Almost two weeks had passed since Nikita had become part of the mission. During that time the sequence that had been set in motion had moved quickly. As planned, Roxanne had become jealous of Nikita's closeness to Michael. She had contacted her father and had requested his help. Section knew that Trenton Fargate had checked into Nikita's background and was now suspicious of Michael's true nature. But he was a smart man. He had agreed to get rid of Nikita for his daughter, and two attempts had been made on Nikita's life. But he had not shown his self, as hoped.
That was the reason why Madeline wanted Michael to kill Roxanne. To make Trenton Fargate appear. He would do so for the sake of revenge. To take down Michael face to face. It fit the background profile that Madeline had done on Fargate. It made sense and would put an end to the farce of a marriage that Michael had been forced to live for the past seven years. But he did not believe that the end would justify the means. Not this time. Roxanne was not a true innocent, for she was sincere in her desire of wanting Nikita gone. Even if it meant dead. But she was naive of the reality of what she wanted. And she was the mother of Michael's children. He did not want her to die, especially not by his hand.
"Michael?"
He flinched at the sound of a familiar voice and turned to face the doorway. "Yes, Nikita?" Michael prompted. He didn't want her there now. She had seen him at his weakest moment, had held him in his grief, but that would not happen again. Michael couldn't allow it, for both their sakes. Section would exploit any and all weaknesses. That was why Nikita was always at risk. Because Section knew that she was Michael's weakness.
Nikita studied Michael's face, seeing that he was too pale and that his eyes were glassy. Something was wrong. But by his posture and the tone of his voice, she knew that he would not discuss it with her. "Nothing much," Nikita drawled. "Just wondered how it went with Madeline. What's the next phase of the mission?"
"I'm not sure," Michael replied, and it wasn't a lie. He didn't know what the next phase would be. He knew what Madeline had planned but that didn't mean he would be able to carry it out. Taking down Rene had nearly destroyed Michael. This would be the rock that would shatter him completely.
"Do you need me for anything?" Nikita queried, sensing that it would be best not to extend the invitation to go out for coffee that she had intended to make. It was obvious that Michael wanted to be alone, but after the way he had broken down in her arms, had let her see inside his soul if only for a heartbeat in time, Nikita found herself reluctant to leave Michael. Not when he needed her so deeply. And she needed him. Nikita would no longer pretend to herself otherwise.
Michael wanted to go to Nikita, to take her in his arms and bury his face in her soft hair. Wanted to feel her holding him and whispering that she was there for him. But he stood rooted to the spot and simply blinked. "No," Michael replied. "I don't need... anything... Nikita," he whispered.
Nikita offered a smile, accepting his little white lie. "I'll be home if I'm needed," she stated, already turning to leave.
"Thank you," Michael replied, knowing that he spoke too softly for Nikita to hear him for she was already stepping out into the hallway. It took all of Michael's self control not to run after her. But he could not let himself be weak. So Michael closed the door then moved to sit behind his desk. He picked up the PDA and forced himself to read the profile. Somehow he would find a way to protect Roxanne. Not because she was his wife but because she was the mother of his children. And for that... he owed her her life.
***********
Nikita stared at the gun Roxanne was holding. A gun that was aimed at her heart. She hadn't been prepared for this moment, hadn't expected this of the other woman. But a part of Nikita realized that Michael was at fault here. That what he had told her about the next phase of the mission profile had been false. Michael had said that the profile was to use Roxanne as bait to lure her father home, but that was not the case.
Nor was now the time to worry about the true scenario. Nikita could see hate in Roxanne's eyes. The woman wanted her dead. A part of Nikita couldn't blame her. Roxanne was merely trying to protect what was hers. Her marriage and her husband. That it was all a sham was something that Roxanne could not, and would not, allow herself to see. Nikita did not fault her for that. She knew how Michael could be when role playing. No, Nikita did not blame Roxanne for wanting her dead. However, she was not ready to die. Offering a calm smile, Nikita attempted to reason with the other woman. "Roxanne... I think it would be best if we talked for a moment," Nikita stated carefully.
"There's nothing to talk about," Roxanne replied, her eyes shooting steel sparks. "I know about you and Michael. I know you have a past together and that you want him back." That much her father had told her. Nothing in great detail, but enough to let Roxanne know that Michael and Nikita had been lovers in the past. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Nikita still wanted Michael. But he belonged to Roxanne and the girls. He was their father, and her husband. Roxanne would not let Nikita take him away from them. Besides which, Nikita was an orphan according to Trenton Fargate. And had a prison record. She was no good, and no one would miss her when she was gone.
"I don't want to die, Roxanne," Nikita confessed. She felt that honesty was the best policy in this moment. Perhaps it was even time to be brutally honest. But first she had to clear herself of one worry. "Where are Rose and Jeanette?" Nikita queried.
Roxanne took a deep, shuddering breath. It surprised her that Nikita seemed concerned about the twins. "With a friend," Roxanne replied. "Safely away from here."
Nikita felt relief flood through her. What ever happened now would be directed by fate, and she could live with that. So long as no innocent children were involved. That Roxanne was an innocent bothered Nikita, but she couldn't have it both ways and she knew it. The lesson Michael had tried teaching her for years had finally sunk in. "This is about Michael," Nikita whispered. "You think I want to take him away from you, Roxanne. But that's not true. You never really had Michael, anymore than I do."
"Shut up!" Roxanne hissed, her finger flexing spasmodically over the trigger. She felt a trickle of sweat slide down her temple. "Michael is my husband!" Roxanne snarled. "MINE!"
"No..."
The soft whisper made both women turn towards the door. But Roxanne recovered first and retrained her weapon on Nikita, even as Michael entered the room.
He moved with the stealth of a shadow, intending to step between Nikita and Roxanne, but his wife realized his intent and cut him off by stepping behind Nikita.
"Stop or I'll shoot," Roxanne ordered.
"All right," Michael conceded, going still as stone. His hands were in his coat pockets, his stance slightly wide. He held Nikita's gaze for a moment and knew that she was scared. Yet Michael also saw trust in Nikita's blue-fire gaze. It rocked him like a kick in the head, but Michael could not allow his focus to be distracted at this moment. So he looked away from Nikita, shifting his attention to Roxanne. "We need to talk," Michael told the woman who had been is wife for seven years. "There is something that I need to tell you."
Roxanne chuckled, a sound that was cold and mirthless. "You want to tell me that you love Nikita," Roxanne countered, her tone harsh. "I already know your little secret, Michael. Daddy checked her out for me. I know you two were lovers in the past. I'm sure that you're lovers now too. Isn't that right?" It was the most painful question that Roxanne had ever asked, but she had to know the truth. Had to hear it from Michael.
He owed her that much so Michael shook his head. "No, Roxanne," he whispered. "We were lovers," Michael conceded. "But not now."
Pain and anger made Roxanne's hand shake. Her finger caressed the trigger and she was tempted to pull it and end this farce. "I don't believe you," she choked. "You love her, Michael!" Roxanne cried. "I can see it in your eyes!"
"Yes... I love her," Michael confessed. He sensed Nikita's start of surprise but did not look at her. He had to hold Roxanne's attention. A part of Michael felt relieved at being able to speak the truth of his heart, to say the words he could never speak out loud to Nikita when they were alone. That she would probably not believe him didn't matter. Michael was glad that he had said it. Death was a part of Michael's every day existence, and should he die in this moment at least Nikita heard the truth. What she made of it was irrelevant. "Roxanne," Michael continued, forcing himself to focus only on the other woman now. "I don't anyone to die today. But you need to listen to me and do as I say."
"What are you talking about, Michael?" Roxanne challenged, taking a step out from behind Nikita so that she could see her husband better. And in that moment she noticed the way he was dressed. All in black, his wavy hair smoothed back behind his ears, his eyes cold as ice. Not her Michael. "What is going on?" Roxanne demanded.
Michael risked a step closer, but only one. He held Roxanne's gaze as he spoke. He would tell her the truth as well. "We aren't really married," Michael stated. "It was a sham. A mission. A way for me to get close to your father."
Roxanne laughed and heard the edge of hysteria in her tone. "My father?" she countered, shaking her head. "What has he got to do with this?"
"He's an international terrorist," Michael replied, bluntly. "The people that Nikita and I work for want to bring him down."
"That's crazy!" Roxanne spat. "You want me to believe that you married me and we had seven years together and three children, and it was all a lie? A way to get close to my father, who turns out to be an international terrorist... and all this time I've been clueless."
Michael nodded. "Yes." He was surprised that Roxanne was remaining so calm, but sensed that she was slipping into shock. All he wanted to do now was get the gun from her, then he would take her away. To a hiding place, and then he could let it be leaked to her father that Roxanne was being held hostage, along with the twins, and that only a face to face meeting would save them. A slight deviation from Madeline's profile and one that Michael knew he would pay dearly for. But he didn't care. Roxanne deserved a life. So did his children.
She heard every word that Michael said, but Roxanne didn't believe him. Her father was no terrorist. She would have known. Trenton Fargate was an honest man, a businessman. Roxanne felt a surge of anger that Michael would lie about her father simply to save Nikita. To save the woman he truly loved. "Go to hell, Michael!" She snarled, then she laughed. "Better yet... I'll send Nikita there!" Roxanne curled her finger around the trigger, ready to blow Nikita away.
Nikita closed her eyes. She didn't have to see Roxanne to know that the woman had snapped and that she was about to die. There was a gunshot and Nikita flinched, expecting to feel a burning pain. Instead she heard Roxanne cry out then the thud of a fallen body. Nikita's eyes snapped open and locked on Michael. He stood with his right arm outstretched, gun held in gloved hand. Whirling, Nikita saw Roxanne lying on the floor, eyes open but sightless. "God..." Nikita whispered, falling to her knees beside the other woman.
Michael made a move to join Nikita but his cell phone rang. He knew that it would be Madeline. "Yes?" Michael answered. He listened a moment then replied, "The sequence is in motion." That said he hung up and glided forward to stand over Roxanne's body. He felt as if her eyes were staring deep into his soul and Michael shuddered.
"I'm sorry, Michael," Nikita whispered, one hand wiping over Roxanne's face, closing her eyes. She then stood up and looked at Michael, saw that he was deathly pale and he was trembling. Nikita wanted to hold him but the look in his eyes held her back. Michael didn't want her comfort because he would break down again. She knew he couldn't afford to do that now. The mission wasn't over yet. But Nikita also knew that Roxanne's death by Michael's hand had shattered him. Michael had been willing to die rather than kill Rene Dion, a man who he felt he owed a debt too. Nikita couldn't imagine what he was feeling now, having killed the mother of his children. And, given the grief that she had given him in the past, Nikita was surprised that Michael hadn't sacrificed her instead, when forced to choose. The question burned inside Nikita and she felt compelled to ask it. "Why? Why me, Michael?"
"I will always choose you, Nikita," Michael replied. He understood the question and felt compelled to give an honest answer. But that was all he could give in this moment. Letting his gun drop from numb fingers, Michael turned and walked away.
Nikita let him go. But she vowed to herself that it wouldn't always be this way. Now that she knew the truth. Now that she knew that Michael did love her. "I'm sorry, Michael," Nikita repeated to the empty room. And then she cried the tears she knew that he wouldn't allow himself to.
***********
Trenton Fargate did as Madeline had projected. He learned of Roxanne's death and came searching for Michael. After a tense confrontation between the two men, Section moved in and took Fargate down. He was now safely locked away.
Nikita was relieved that the mission was over. She had tried to speak to Michael about it but he had been unavailable. Sent away on a mission. So Nikita did the next best thing. She confronted Madeline. Striding into the other woman's office, Nikita took a stance before the desk, her blue eyes flashing sparks. "What happened to the twins?" Nikita demanded.
"They're safe," Madeline replied. She was perfectly willing to acknowledge Nikita's presence and to answer her questions. But on her own terms, of course.
"Safe where?" Nikita challenged.
Madeline offered a cold smile. "You don't need to know that, Nikita," she responded.
Nikita wasn't surprised at the response. Had been expecting it. She smiled back, a cold grimace. "What about Michael?" Nikita persisted. "Does he need to know, Madeline?"
"The mission is over for Michael," Madeline replied, her eyes glimmering dark and icy. "He has other things... missions... to concern himself with."
"Rose and Jeanette are his children, Madeline!" Nikita hissed. "Flesh and blood of his flesh and blood. How can you be so damn cruel?"
Madeline did not let her smile waver, even though a part of her understood Nikita's rage. "We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good, Nikita," she reminded the young woman. It was the one lesson that Nikita seemingly refused to learn.
Shaking her head, Nikita slumped into a chair. She felt as if her legs would no longer hold her, but she was not ready to give up the fight. There were things that Nikita wanted to say. Things on Michael's behalf because he knew he would never say them for himself. Never allow himself to ask. "Very clever, Madeline," Nikita drawled. "You spirit Michael's children away... someplace where he'll never find them... yet they will live on in his heart. A constant reminder to him that they're at Section's mercy. And so he will remain loyal to you, serving your every whim. He will be the perfect soldier, the ultimate whore... whatever you ask of him, just so long as you promise that the twins are safe. Not that you would be telling him the truth, but he'll have no choice but to accept what you say." Nikita paused, her eyes shooting daggers at Madeline. "You'll never have to worry that he'll try and leave Section... will you." Nikita sighed. "It all makes sense now."
"What makes sense?" Madeline prompted, her curiosity piqued.
"Why Michael stands up for Section at every turn," Nikita stated. She felt the need to state the truth, for her sake as well as Michael's. To let Madeline understand that Nikita considered to be a player now, as well as Michael's champion. He had been used enough. Used and abused and there was no end in sight. "No matter what you do to him, he makes excuses for you, Madeline. He simply accepts his lot in life, no matter how unfair it is... or undeserved. And so many times I've heard him state that he would never be free of you... of the Section. I thought it was because you had him so damn successfully programmed, but now I know that you've been using blackmail to keep Michael faithful to you. First Simone, then his son... now the twins." Nikita rose from the chair and grimaced. "How do you live with yourself, Madeline?" she queried, with honest interest.
Madeline was silent for a moment, contemplating her reply, then she whispered, "Ask me that same question in ten years, Nikita... and I just might answer you."
Nikita smiled and sadness glimmered in her eyes. "I hope I'm not alive in ten years, Madeline," she confessed. "I remember how you told me once that I would never be able to do your job. You were right. But that doesn't mean that I don't understand what you do. I'm learning."
"Perhaps you are, Nikita," Madeline allowed, with a touch of pride.
"I want to make something perfectly clear between us," Nikita continued, as she stalked back over to the desk. "I intend to have a relationship with Michael. Outside of Section." She watched Madeline's smile grow and understood the reason. "I know that he'll resist me at first," Nikita acknowledged. "I've pushed him away in the past, and he's done a good job of trying to deny what he feels for me. But the truth is out between us now."
Madeline wasn't surprised. "It's not that simple, Nikita," she warned. Madeline knew that Michael would try and protect Nikita from himself. Or from being used against him in the future. Michael knew how the game was played and he also knew he would never win.
Nikita sighed. "Michael spent five years keeping me alive... in spite of myself," she stated, emphatically. "Now it's time for me to return the favor. I'm going to keep his heart... and soul... alive, Madeline. And if you don't like it... cancel me." That said, Nikita didn't await the other woman's reaction. She simply turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Her fate would be decided soon enough. And whatever it was, Nikita would accept it. It was time to grow up.
***********
Nikita smiled through her tears. She was in her apartment, dancing in Michael's arms. Three months had passed since the end of the Fargate mission. Several times in the past, Nikita had tried to talk to Michael about it, and the twins. He had brushed her off every time, and she had allowed it. Tonight he had come to her, the night of the twin's fifth birthday.
The bottle of wine that Michael had brought was empty. The candle Nikita had lit was nearly burned out. They hadn't spoken much more than a dozen words to each other in the past six hours, but Nikita knew that Michael needed her and that was enough. She tangled her fingers in the short curls at the nape of his neck and whispered, "I'm sorry, Michael." He didn't respond and Nikita wasn't surprised. Lifting her head from her shoulder she added, "I guess it's my turn to say that." Her eyes sent the message that words could not. That she was sorry for not trusting him in the past, and for all the times she had hurt him.
"Never say it again, Nikita," Michael replied, lifting one hand to press a fingertip to her soft lips. Then he drew her head back down to his shoulder and continued the dance.
And in the flickering glow of the candlelight, Michael watched his shadow on the wall. A silhouette of glass... black and cracked. But not yet shattered. And as long as Nikita was a part of his life, Michael would find a reason to go on.
THE END
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