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Walter studied Michael's face as the young man removed the clips from his revolver then handed it, and the shoulder holster, out to him. Not even when Simone had died, the first time, had Walter seen such pain and shadows in Michael's eyes. He had locked all of those emotions away then, he was unable to do so now. But that didn't mean he wasn't trying. Michael had shut himself down when Simone died, and now he was shutting himself off. It broke Walter's heart to see him like this. Forcing a smile, Walter patted Michael's shoulder. "Hey..kid. Don't do this to yourself, okay? Nikita wouldn't have wanted this."
Michael shrugged off Walter's hand and said, "Don't go there."
"Listen!" Walter was angry now. He grabbed Michael's arm and pulled him around to face him when the young man would have walked away. "I'm your friend, Michael. We all are. We just want to help you through this!"
"Friend..." Michael repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He locked eyes with Walter and shook his head. "There's no such thing in Section One."
It was Walter's turn to shake his head. He knew he couldn't reach Michael. No one had been able to do that except for Nikita...and she was gone. "Madeline wants to see you," Walter said. He watched Michael turn and walk away and his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, sugar...I think we're going to lose him too."
************ When Michael entered Madeline's office, he was surprised to hear soft music playing. It was Vivaldi, one of his favorites. But that wasn't all. On the desk, a light supper had been laid out. Michael locked eyes with Madeline, then he looked around the room, expecting to see Operations.
Madeline read his mind. "We're alone, Michael."
"Walter said you wanted to see me," he replied. The expression on Madeline's face was unfamiliar to Michael and it made him...cautious.
"I thought we could have dinner together," she replied, gesturing to the food. It was Fettucini Alfredo, another one of Michael's favorites.
He shook his head. "I'm not hungry, Madeline. Is that all?" Michael was turning towards the door as he asked.
Madeline called him back. "You haven't eaten..or slept...in three days, Michael," she said. Then she waited for a response. But Michael remained silent. Madeline studied him for a long moment. He was still dressed in black fatigues, and his hair was wild about hisl face, like a lion's mane. She knew he hated the curl, but she thought it was beautiful...as was he. Michael reminded her of a dark angel. One whose innocence had been tarnished by the world. He walked in darkness but had found a light to guide him, and that light had been Nikita. Without her, Michael's world was filled with shadows. Madeline had one question for him, and she wondered if he would answer it. "How do you feel, Michael?"
"Tired," he replied, honestly. It was exhausting simply to breath, or so it seemed...lately.
"Come lie down for a while," Madeline bade him, gesturing towards the sofa.
Michael shook his head. "I have to type up my report." He knew that Operations would be expecting a detailed write up before morning.
Madeline moved to sit on the corner of the desk. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes glimmered. She was in her *mentor* mode now. "The report can wait, Michael It's either rest here, or in Medlab," Madeline told him, in a tone that conveyed her words as an order, not an option. When Michael didn't respond, Madeline went to him and pulled off his black, leather jacket. That he gave in so easily, worried her. She took Michael's hand and led him over to the couch.
Once seated, he bent over to unlace his half boots, but Madeline pushed his hands away, then knelt down and did it for him. Once she had pulled the boots off, she watched his face as she pressed him down onto his back, then pulled a blanket over him. Dark smudges beneath his eyes, highlighted the intensity of Michael's green gaze. Madeline had been expecting this moment, and she was prepared. She reached for a small, black case on the coffee table and pulled out a syringe. But when she moved to push up the sleeve of Michael's sweater, he grabbed her wrist.
"No.." Michael whispered, desperation coloring his voice. He didn't want to sleep.
"Trust me, Michael," Madeline replied, her eyes locking onto his. She saw fear in Michael's green gaze. He was afraid of the shadows. Afraid of the dreams and memories that would trickle out while he lay alseep...and no longer in control. But Madeline knew that he had to face those demons.
Michael released Madeline's wrist and swallowed back a sigh. He closed his eyes as he felt the needle prick his skin, and it was barely a heartbeat later when he felt darkness wrap around him. Michael only wished that it would offer him...oblivion.
Madeline could tell when Michael had drifted into sleep. She moved to sit beside him in, dragging over a comfortable chair. He looked so young...so vulnerable. It was a face that he never allowed anyone to see. Madeline leaned her head back and closed her own eyes as she thought back to three days ago. She, Michael and Birkhoff were in central, watching the vid screen. Nikita was on a mission and was late reporting in. Madeline had watched Michael pacing back and forth like a wild cat in a cage. She knew that he was concerned for Nikita, worried about her safety. Although he made a show of hiding it.
Birkhoff had rubbed his hand, repeatedly, over the top of his head. He was worried too. Nikita was his...friend. One of the few people that Birkhoff had allowed himself to get close to. Michael being the other. Then the image had appeared on the vid screen. A man with dark hair, and Nikita. Her face was battered, and her hands tied behind her. The man had a gun pointed at her head. He didn't waste words.
"I believe this is one of your operatives. I just wanted to give you a chance to say...goodbye."
Before anyone could respond, he had shot her in the back of the head, execution style. The echo of the gunshot filled the otherwise silent room. Madeline had seen the shock on Birkhoff's face even as his eyes moved to look at Michael. Madeline watched him as well. He was still as a statue, staring at the image on the Vid screen. Nikita's body, lying on the floor, blood pooling around her, staining her pale hair red. Then he had stirred, his body jerking for a moment, as if he had suddenly remembered to breath again. Madeline watched him turn away from the screen, pulling the com link off his ear. He had locked eyes with her for a moment, and she had seen the faint glimmer of light, that had been Nikita, fade to black in the beautiful, green depths. His face expressionless, Michael had slowly walked away.
After contacting Operations, Madeline had gone in search of Michael. She found him in his office, sitting at his desk. His computer was on, and the light from the screen had flickered across his face, but she knew he saw nothing but the image of Nikita. Madeline had tried to reach him, but he had reenforced the wall about him and no one could penetrate it. Michael had allowed Nikita to seep through the cracks....on occasion. But now those cracks were sealed.
Not that Michael had time to mourn. Operations had sent him out to *clean up* Nikita's mess. Michael hadn't argued. He had obeyed orders. It was the Clean Up mission from which he had just returned. Operations had his closure. Michael had....nothing. Madeline knew that Michael had lost a part of himself when Simone had died...three years ago. A little more of himself had shattered when she had resufaced, only to DIE again. Nikita had begun to heal Michael, to put back the pieces of his shattered soul. But now Madeline feared that Michael would never be whole again.
************
Three weeks had passed. Madeline and Operations were in the control room, watching Michael on the Vid screen. Birkhoff was manning the computers and his expression was grim as his eyes watched the screen. He felt like he was in a Twilight Zone episode involving De Je Vu. Michael was confronting a terrorist who had kidnapped a senator, who just happened to have stolen some, top secret, documents. Section was more concerned with retrieving the documents than saving the senator. Michael had the documents, his fellow operative had the senator, the confrontation was unneccessary. But Michael faced the terrorist with no expression on his face. His gun was in his hand, but lowered at his side.
"Damn him..." Ops muttered, dragging on his fifth cigarette in the past hour.
Madeline didn't respond. Her eyes were on Michael. But she flinched when two more terrorists appeared behind him, guns raised. She knew what was coming...a repeat of the last two missions. Michael smiled, then he moved. His hand lifted and in a heartbeat he had taken out the three terrorists. But he didn't walk away unscathed. Madeline had almost felt the bullet that had entered his left shoulder.
Operation's eyes flashed and he dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. Then he looked at Madeline and hissed, "Michael wants to die!"
"Yes...he does," she acknowledged.
"Fix him!" Operations knew that it wasn't a valid request...or order. But he meant it as such, and he expected Madeline to deliver. She knew it as well and nodded slightly, then Ops turned and stalked off.
Madeline felt Birkhoff's eyes upon her. She looked at him, then sighed. Then she followed in Operation's wake.
************
Michael saw Madeline the moment he walked into his office. She was sitting in his chair, watching the doorway. He didn't want to see her, but there was no avoiding it. Michael knew he couldn't just walk away. But he didn't greet her either. He simply...waited.
Madeline knew what he was doing, and she was ready for it. "How''s your shoulder?" she asked.
"Fine." Michael shrugged. He had just come from medlab, and Madeline knew it. She would also know that he was supposed to be in bed. "Did you want something?" Michael questioned, deciding that it would be best to be forthright.
"I'm taking you off active status," she replied, bluntly. Michael didn't want to play games and neither did she.
Michael was startled, and he let it show. "Why?" he demanded, his green eyes flashing. "I've done my job. There's been closure on all my assignments!" He couldn't keep the defensive tone from his voice.
Madeline smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Suicide is not an option, Michael," she said softly. Nikita wouldn't approve of it....and neither do I." Madeline rose to her feet then, watching Michael closely. He simply stared at her, his eyes unblinking. Madeline kept one hand behind her back as she moved to stand before him. "Michael....wherever Nikita is right now....she's free. Let that be enough. And...if it isn't." Madeline pulled her hand from behind her back. She was holding a revolver, and she offered it to Michael.
He knew what she what she was telling him. If he wanted to die, then put a bullet in his head and get it over with. Michael let Madeline see his thoughts for a moment, as he accepted the gun. He watched her smile, saw sorrow shimmer in her dark eyes, then she stepped around him and was gone. Michael stood in the center of the room for a moment, the gun held tightly in his hand. In that moment he suddenly realized that Madeline knew the truth. That Nikita wasn't dead, but gone.
The execution that everyone had seen had been arranged by Michael. He had connections outside of Section, and had called in some favors. He knew that no one could prove that Nikita was alive. Michael remembered how she had begged him to go with her, when he had told her that he could give her her freedom. But they had both known that it wasn't possible. Section would never let Michael go. In those last hours, Michael had opened his heart to Nikita and she had offered her body. They had loved each other...body and soul...and then she had gone. Michael didn't know where she was...he knew only that she might as well be dead, for he would never see her again. When Nikita left, she took his only reason for living, breathing or caring...with her.
Nikita was free....but Michael was dead. Only his body didn't know it yet...but his heart did. Michael didn't blink as he raised his arm and pressed the nozzle of the gun to his temple.
************ Madeline was in her office, staring at a vid screen. She flinched as a single gunshot rang out. It was deafening in the silence. Then she closed her eyes.
************
Operations paced the length of the table and back again. He and Madeline were in the conference room. He glared at Madeline, for she was sitting in a chair, completely calm. He paced some more, then turned to speak. Instead he froze and looked past her, to the doorway.
Michael stood there, a half-smile on his face.
"Did you get it?" Ops shot the question at him like a bullet from a gun.
"I did," Michael replied. He removed his right hand from the pocket of his overcoat. Lying in his gloved palm was a mini-CD. Michael moved forward and placed it on the table.
Ops, visibly, relaxed. Madeline smiled as she watched him pick up the CD, reverently, then she turned to Michael. "Nice work," she told him. Ans so it was. "Any problems?"
Michael shook his head. "Nothing that I couldn't handle." There was a world of meaning in those words. He held Madeline's gaze for a heartbeat, then he turned to leave.
"Welcome back, Michael," Operations called after him.
"Thank you," Michael whispered, turning his head and offering a smile. It was gone by the time he glanced back over at Madeline. She nodded, imperceptibly, acknowledging Michael's effort to rejoin the world of the living. Six months had passed since the day Michael had pulled the trigger, and a bullet had ripped into his monitor. Afterwards he had admitted to Madeline that the only thing that had stopped him was the echo of the words that Nikita had once said to him,
".....sometimes you have to let yourself trust someone. I'm right here..."
In that moment, Michael had realized that Nikita was there..and always would be. For he carried her in his heart. And the person that Michael was beginning to trust...was himself.
THE END
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