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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.
Michael and Nikita were doing surveillance, in the town square. Nikita was rollerblading in and out and around the circumference, and Michael was playing chess with an old man, who was a regular in the park. The person they were looking for was known to come to the square for chili dogs, twice a week. Michael was sitting at a picnic table next to the hotdog stand.
"I don't see him," Nikita reported, as she glided around the fountain.
"I don't think he's coming today," Michael replied, getting a strange look from the old man. But Michael distracted him by putting his Queen in check. "Go back home, Nikita," Michael told her. "I'll make one last turn then head out."
From the van down the street, Birkhoff confirmed the *all clear* and acknowledged Michael's orders. Then he told the driver to "Go."
Nikita skated by Michael and waved, then she headed back on the path to Section one. Michael returned his attention to the chess game. The old man was waiting for him to make his move. A quick glance at the board and Michael smiled. "Sorry," he said softly. Then, "Checkmate." With that, he stood up and made his way towards the fountain. He would circuit the square one last time, then head back to Section himself.
There was a small pathway to the left of the fountain, leading to a main road. It was the direction the mark would have come from, so Michael strolled down it, just to make a final check. But the man he was looking for was a no-show. Michael turned to head back when he felt a prick in his neck. He raised his hand and removed a tiny dart. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, and Michael realized that he had been hit with a tranquilizer. He fought it's effects with only marginal success. But then he saw the four men coming at him through hazy vision, and his adrenaline kicked in.
The four men had expected to find Michael in an unconscious heap, so they weren't prepared for him to put up a fight. By the time he finally succumbed to the drug, he had managed to break one guy's nose, crack four ribs on another, dislocate one fellow's elbow, and shatter a knee cap. Not to mention the two black eyes and split lip. Michael, on the other hand had no injuries. But then, the four men were under orders not to hurt him. To be on the safe side, however, nce Michael was down, one of the men pulled out a syringe and gave him a sedative. They weren't taking any more chances. One of the men then slung Michael over his shoulder and carried him over to a dark gray van.
Michael came to consciousness slowly. He opened his eyes, but a moment later closed them. Bright light and white walls were painful after the darkness of oblivion. Michael waited a moment then, cautiously, opened his eyes again. His vision was somewhat blurred but he saw, as well as sensed, a hand coming towards him. Michael grabbed it in a crushing grip.
Two of the men from the square moved forward and grabbed his arms, but Michael didn't let go. The man he was holding managed to smile, in spite of the pain he was in. "Let go of me, Michael," he beseeched. "Otherwise my men will put you out again."
His vision was back in focus, and Michael saw the syringe in the free hand of one of the men. He let go of the man who had spoken, but did nothing but look at him. Michael was also taking in his surroundings. He was in a room that was much like the one at Section. The place where he had found himself on his first day there. The same place where he had introduced himself to Nikita. He was also lying in a similar style bed. The room had a sterile quality that was eerie.
The man rubbed his hand. He was in his mid fifties, with thick brown hair that had streaks of gray at the temples that gave him a distinguished look. He was handsome in a Tom Selleck kind of way, even had a mustache. And his hazel eyes glittered with a fierce intelligence. Those eyes studied Michael now, then he nodded, and his men went about putting restraints on Michael's wrists. "I was hoping this wouldn't be neccessary," the older man apologized. "But it's reflex for you to react, isn't it, Michael? To defend yourself." He reached out to smooth a lock of hair off Michael's forehead and received the same cold, blank stare. "Don't you wonder who I am, Michael? And why I've brought you here? Or where...HERE...is?"
Michael did wonder those things, but he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of his asking. So he remained silent and kept his expression neutral, his eyes blank. He knew it was irritating the guy.
Heaving a sigh the man said, "I'm your father." He was pleased to see a flicker of reaction in the young man's silver-green gaze. "That's right, Michael," he said softly. "My name is Jason Dewitt. I'm your father, and this is your new home." He didn't mean this room but, rather, the place they were in. His estate.
"My father's dead," Michael replied, his voice whisper soft.
"The man you believed to be your father is dead," Jason DeWitt replied, his eyes flashing. "You see, I couldn't let him go unpunished for hurting you, Michael." Jason didn't go into details, but the man that Michael had believed was his father had died in a car wreck two years ago. It was a fitting, and fiery, end for a man who had abused Michael, both physically and emotionally, from the time he was ten till he was seventeen. Jason had arranged the accident.
Michael had learned of the car wreck that had killed Douglas Marchand, and had been glad. But that was all. The man he knew as his father had believed Michael to be dead for eleven years. "Why am I here?" Michael asked. He was unwilling to believe what Jason told him. A part of him wondered if Section had set him up for this. Only he couldn't understand...for what purpose?
Jason patted Michael's arm, which was now secured by the restraints. "I know about Section, Michael," he said softly. He waited for a reaction, but the young man had reschooled his features and revealed nothing. So Jason proceeded to explain. "Your Mother, Jeanette, she took you from me when you were three months old. I was in a situation where I couldn't look for you at the time." He didn't mention that he was in prison. "But as soon as I was able, I searched for you. I'm very rich and very powerful. I used all of my resources, Michael. But your mother had hidden you well. Still, I never stopped looking. Thirteen years ago I found a clue. It led me to Douglas Marchand, and I learned that your mother was dead. But you were still hard to track down. Then, two years later, just as I got close, I learned that you had died in prison."
Jason paused then, moving from Michael's side to pace about the room. He was angry as he relayed the details of his search and he let it show. "I then learned the truth of how Marchand treated you. Of the crime you committed..and so on. I ordered my investigators to keep digging. You were a straight A student, Michael. You had a brilliant future ahead of you. But you also had a wild streak and in one night, your world was shattered. Then you die in prison, and Marchand didn't lift a finger to help you." Jason shook his head. "I couldn't just accept that. I had to understand...why. Then I learned about Section One...Quite by accident. And then I bided my time. Waiting for the chance to grab you." Jason paced his way back to Michael's side. "Now...here you are. And here you will stay. With me."
Michael shook his head. "Section won't let me go," he said softly. "They'll look for me, and they'll find me. Then they'll take me back." It was a simple fact.
"They can't take you from me," Jason countered firmly, a smile on his face. "I've seen to that."
"Meaning what?" Michael shot back. He didn't like the gleam in the other man's eyes.
Jason let his fingertips glide over Michael's face in a fatherly caress. "That's not your concern," he whispered. "Rest, Michael. Take the time to think about what I've told you. We'll talk later." With that, Jason turned and left the room.
Nikita was in Madeline's office, Birkhoff was there as well. They were both being questioned about the surveillance mission. Michael had never returned to Section and sixteen hours had passed. He was now considered MIA and Operations was furious.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you!" Nikita hissed, at him as he ordered her to think back to what had happened on the mission. She had already repeated her story a dozen times. As had Birkhoff.
Madeline understood Operations' frustration. Most of it stemmed from the message they had received an hour ago, via the computer. It had flashed on Birkhoff's screen and simply read...MICHAEL IS HOME NOW. DON'T LOOK FOR HIM. IF YOU DO....YOU DIE.
End of transmission. Short and to the point, as well as untraceable. Whoever had Michael was very good. If someone really did have him, and the whole thing hadn't been set up by Michael in an attempt to be free. Madeline kept an open mind to the latter possibility, although she highly doubted it. She looked at Operations and tried to calm him down. "We'll find Michael," she said firmly.
Operations glared at her, then moved his gaze to Birkhoff. "Find out who sent the transmission!" he ordered.
When the computer whiz nodded, then jumped out his chair and practically ran out of the room, Operations was on his heels. Nikita watched them go, then looked at Madeline. "Do you think Michael's all right?" she asked, not bothering to hide her concern.
"Michael can take care of himself," Madeline replied, offering a smile.
"Course he can," Nikita drawled, rising from her chair. But she wasn't convinced. "Can I go now?"
Madeline nodded. "But don't leave Section."
NIkita sighed. "Right." She left the room and once the doors had closed behind her she whispered, "Be safe, Michael." Then she headed off to see if she could give Birkhoff a hand.
************
Michael sat across the table from Jason Dewitt. He had been let out of his restraints first thing this morning and allowed to shower and change into the clean clothes provided for him. They weren't what he was accustomed to. Jason had chosen camel colored corduroys and a camel and white, cashmere pullover. Michael felt comfortable in the clothes, but he felt as if he were playing a part. What part...that he didn't know. So now he looked at Jason, the man who claimed to be his father, with an unblinking stare.
Jason sighed and pointed to Michael's plate. He hadn't touched the bacon and eggs and french toast that had been served to him. "Eat, Michael," Jason beseeched. "You need to keep your strength up."
"Why?" Michael countered, his eyes glimmering. And that was all. He knew it would irritate Jason, but he refused to step out of character. He wanted the other man to see him as he truly was. A Section One operative.
"Let's not get into a debate," Jason countered, offering a smile. He picked up the file that was on the table and scanned it. "I must say, I'm very impressed," he drawled. "You've had an extensive education, Michael. I'm pleased that you're so well read, and well mannered. It says here that you're multi-lingual. Of course I knew about the French and English. But you speak eight other languages as well. Your firearm skills are astounding. You know seven forms of martial arts and are proficient with computers. Section has made you highly skilled, if nothing else."
Michael allowed a small smile. "It took what I am and made me better at it," he countered softly. "I have a liscense to kill, so to speak. What do you do?"
Jason laughed. "Touche. I will tell you more about me, gladly, Michael. You have only to ask."
"How did you find out about Section?" Michael questioned. After all, Jason had invited him to do so.
"Are you worried about Nikita?" Jason countered, and he saw a flicker of reaction in Michael's silver-green gaze. "Yes. I know about her. And about Simone, and my grandson. I'm so sorry about them, Michael. I wish I had know sooner. I would have tried to save them. But I can save Nikita," he said.
Michael was silent for a long moment, then he asked, "How?"
Jason leaned forward in his chair. "I can get her for you. Bring her here."
Michael was stunned by Jason's words, but fought not to let it show. His voice was cold and his eyes glimmered. "What do you want from me?" he queried.
"I want you go be my son," Jason shot back, his own eyes flashing. He felt annoyed that Michael would ask that question. "And I want to be your father," he continued. "We have alot of years to catch up on, Michael. And there's so much that I want to give you."
"Why?" Michael countered, holding the other man's gaze. That was what he couldn't understand. "You don't know me. I'm a stranger to you."
Jason shook his head. "You're wrong. I do know you, Michael. Probably better than you know yourself. I've made it a point to learn everything about you. I have files filled with information. I hired people to watch you, and they've been doing so for the past two years."
Michael found that thought disturbing. Jason DeWitt was a stranger to him. Just a man who claimed to be his father. That claim meant nothing to Michael. Strangely enough, he didn't feel any particular desire to have Jason prove it to him. He didn't want to go there. There was no point in it. "I have to go back to Section," Michael said softly, but with a steel edge to his tone.
"You're not going anywhere!" Jason snarled, furious that Michael would even say that. "You belong here, Michael. With me. I'm your father. We're family." He heard the desperate plea in his voice and hoped that it reached his son.
"We're strangers," Michael countered, repeating his earlier proclamation.
Jason picked up his juice glass and hurled it across the room so that it crashed into the wall. His eyes shadowed to gray and anger tinged his voice. "You are my son!" he hissed, rising to his feet to glower at Michael. "You will learn to accept that."
Michael didn't say a word. After a moment, Jason DeWitt turned away and stalked out of the room. Heaving a sigh, Michael put his thoughts into finding away to escape.
Operations was not pleased with Birkhoff's news that there was no way to trace the message. He took his anger out on the computer whiz, until Nikita intervened. Then he turned it on her, but she didn't care. She simply glared back at him till he stomped off. "You okay?" Nikita asked Birkhoff, who had turned pale and was running his palm over his head in a gesture that betrayed his anxiety.
Birkhoff gave a shaky nod. "Yeah. Thanks."
"No problem," Nikita drawled. She smiled to try and cheer him, but she couldn't hold on to it. Propping her hip against the table she asked, "Do you think Michael's all right?" Nikita knew that Birkhoff had a strong admiration for Michael. Kind of like a younger brother would.
"Sure he is," Birkhoff replied. He wanted to comfort Nikita, but didn't know how. "Michael can survive anything." That was a fact, as far as Birkhoff was concerned. In the seven years that he had been with Section, he had seen Michael go through hell and back over and over again. He was a survivor.
Nikita nodded, appreciating Birkhoff's attempt to console her. "You're right," she said softly. "He's just fine. Later." Nikita waggled her fingers at Birkhoff, then wondered off.
Michael found himself alone. Jason had been called away on business, out of town. He said for only one night, but Michael hoped for longer. He also intended to be gone by the time Jason returned. Of course, the first thing he would have to do is ditch the guards who hovered around him every minute. Michael had a plan. There were two guards with him at all times. Michael wandered about the livingroom for a time, then he suddenly doubled over, as if in agony. The guards were at his side in an instant, and Michael wasted no time in taking them out. Ten minutes later they were trussed up and locked in one of the spacious closets, and Michael was in Jason's study, booting up his computer. It was his intention to contact Section, but he ended up tapping into Jason's private files instead.
There were no encryptions or passwords to bypass. Jason didn't expect anyone to violate his privacy. But Michael had no qualms about doing it. The first thing he located was a file with his mother's name. What he read that proved what Jason had told him. He was his father. Strangely enough, Michael felt nothing. There were no ties to bind them. Jason was his Father, by blood. But it was a simple fact of genetics. That was all. Truth be told, Michael didn't trust the man. He was definitely suspicious of the fact that Jason knew about Section. About Simone and his son, and Nikita. That was something that Michael wanted to learn more about.
He continued on to other files. Business files. What he read was shocking, yet Michael wasn't surprised. Jason DeWitt was very rich and powerful, but it was dirty money and corrupt power. The man had his hands into everything. Black market trades. Smuggling. Drugs. Extortion. Gun running. Politics. None of it legit, so it wasn't at all surprising that he had two assassins, one whose name Michael was familiar with, on his payroll. Moving on to another file, Michael learned that his mother had left Jason, while he was in prison, serving a two year sentence for extortion. Michael had never realized that his mother had never divorced Jason either. That shook him a little, till he dismissed it from his mind. His main concern now was finding out how exactly how much Jason knew about Section. He wouldn't contact them until he had his answers.
There was a file with his name on it, but Michael found himself unable to access it. It was the only one that was encryted. Michael was still trying to break in when he heard Jason's voice, shouting for the guards. Shutting down the computer, he left the office to confront the man who was his father.
Jason was not pleased to see Michael coming out of his office. "What were you doing in there?" he demanded. Then, before Michael could answer, he had hurled another question. "Where are the guards?"
"In the closet," Michael replied, as he propped one shoulder against the wall. He was not in the least bit intimidated by Jason's anger. The first question he ignored.
"Are they dead?" Jason countered, striding over to the closet, but not wanting to open it.
Michael shook his head. "No. Not yet." He allowed a slight smile to curve his lips. He had unnerved Jason and that pleased him. It gave him the upper hand.
Jason glared at Michael, then yanked open the closet door. His guards were bound and gagged and he kicked at them. "Damn fools!" he shouted, then he slammed the door shut on them again. He had bigger concerns. He advanced on Michael. "What were you doing in my office?"
"Going through your files," Michael admitted. He saw no reason to lie. "Interesting reading," he drawled.
"I've amassed an incredible fortune, Michael," Jason allowed. "My hands are dirty, but the ends justifies the means."
Michael almost laughed. That was Section One reasoning, but the Section and Jason were cut from different cloths. Locking eyes with the other man, Michael said coolly, "It's my job to bring down men like you."
Jason did laugh. "I'm your father, Michael. And the man who can give you your freedom. I can destroy Section One, and you and Nikita can be together. Isn't that what you want?" Jason knew about Michael and Nikita, and he wasn't above playing on the young man's feelings for the beautiful, blond woman.
"I don't know what I want," Michael replied, softly. That wasn't entirely the truth, but it was enough to satisfy Jason. "Section will find me and bring me back," he said, forthrightly. "Your fooling yourself if you think otherwise." Michael said what he did not only because it was the truth, but because he was trying to goad Jason into revealing what he knew about Section.
"You're the fool, Michael!" Jason hissed, his eyes flashing. But then they softened as he reached out to brush a curl out of Michael's eyes. The young man had his mother's hair. "You need to think of this situation in terms of a trinity, Michael. I'm the FATHER. You're the SON, and Section is the HOLY SPIRIT. But I am GOD in this world!" Jason shouted. I have the power to destroy Section."
Michael was silent for a moment. He hadn't moved when Jason had reached out to him, and now his eyes shimmered like emerald ice. "But the Holy Spirit is the POWER of god, Father," he whispered, making a mockery out of the title. "So...by your own words...Section is the POWER. Not you. They cannot be destroyed."
Jason felt his face flush with fury, and it took a monumental effort for him to control himself. His hands clenched into fists at his side. A part of him wanted to strike the smirk off his son's face, instead he turned away. Once he had regained control, he turned back, offering a brittle smile. "Michael..." he whispered. "You have to understand. Section will never find you. I've seen to that. You don't have to worry about them anymore. I'll take care of you."
"I don't need you to take care of me," Michael shot back. He saw the anger simmering in Jason's gaze. He was trying to provoke him.
"You're confused," Jason replied, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Michael...you're overwhelmed by everything that's happened in the past two days. Section has kept you a prisoner for so many years, that you're frightened at the thought of being free. Of letting yourself believe that it's possible." He placed a hand on Michael's shoulder and squeezed gently. A fatherly gesture of comfort. "I understand. So I want you to take a few days to think about things. You'll come to realize that you belong here."
Michael pulled away from Jason's touch, and his eyes were cold, his expression neutral. "And what if I don't want to stay. What then?"
Jason's smile turned frosty. Michael was being so damn stubborn, but he would just have to be patient. And lay down the ground rules. "I won't let you go, Michael. Accept that. I'm willing to be generous. I'll bring Nikita here before I destroy Section."
"Destroy them?" Michael echoed.
"That's right," Jason confirmed, his smile warming up. "I have no choice but to destroy them. They must be punished for what they've done to you."
Michael was stunned, but didn't let it show. He was convinced that Jason DeWitt was suffering from a *god* complex, which made him a dangerous man. He had the wealth and the power, to play god. It was time to find out what Jason intentions were. Michael forced a smile. "How will you destroy Section?" he inquired, trying to keep his tone casual.
Jason knew what his son was doing. He wanted to trust Michael, but knew that he couldn't. Not yet. "I'll give you three days," he countered, brushing off the question. "At the end of which time you let me know about Nikita. If you don't want her, then she dies with the others." Jason reached out to Michael, and tried not to be hurt when the young man pulled away. "Think carefully, Michael," he cautioned. "I don't think you realize...or understand....what I'm offering you."
"I understand," Michael replied as he brushed past Jason and headed for the terrace. His voice was whisper soft, but cold as ice. "I understand....more than you know." Once outside, Michael let the night air caress his face with its coolness. Freedom and Nikita. The two things he wanted more than anything in the world were his for the taking. It would be so easy....Too easy. Michael closed his eyes and the image of Nikita's beautiful face danced before him. Then he whispered her name and heard it echo in the wind. "Nikita...."
************
"Any word on Michael?" Nikita asked, as she breezed into Madeline's office, uninvited.
The dark-haired woman looked up from her monitor, her eyes seeing the anxiety in Nikita's blue gaze. "Nothing yet," she replied, offering a smile. "I think it would be best if you prepared yourself, Nikita."
Not liking the sound of that, Nikita moved to confront Madeline. "Prepare myself for what?" she countered, somewhat defiantly.
"For the fact that Michael may be dead," Madeline replied, her tone emotionless.
"NO!" Nikita clapped her hands over her ears, but it was too late to block out the echo of Madeline's words. "Michael is not dead!" she shot back, her eyes flashing. "I would know if he was."
Madeline locked eyes with Nikita, taking the young woman's words at face value. "How would you know?" she asked, with sincere curiousity.
Nikita glared at Madeline, trying to determine whether or not the other woman was patronizing her. Surprisingly enough, Nikita sensed that she wasn't. Begrudgingly she replied, "I would just know." Nikita couldn't explain how. Not even to herself.
"I want to believe that Michael is all right too, Nikita," Madeline said softly. "But the fact is, we don't know where he is. Who has him. If he's alive. You have to accept that. Michael may be lost to us."
"Sorry, Madeline," Nikita drawled. "I won't accept that." And so saying, Nikita tossed her head and left the room.
Michael had less than a day left before his Father would confront him again about the destruction of Section One. During the past two days, Jason DeWitt had shared his thoughts and dreams with Michael. Told him of the places he wanted to take him to. To Egypt, and Africa. To Figi and Paris. Jason wanted to show Michael the world...the beautiful world. Not the dark side of it that was Michael's life. But that wasn't all. He bought Michael an entire new wardrobe, completly bereft of a single article of black clothing. Then there was the red Ferrari. Michael had admired it, but refused to even test drive it. It was all part of the fantasy that his father was desperate to create. A world where they were a family...a world without Section. But Section was real...and they would never be a family.
Jason watched his son, who was standing on the terrace. It seemed to be Michael's favorite place. "What are you thinking?" he asked, moving to stand beside him.
"That this has to end," Michael said softly. He didn't look at the other man. His eyes were on the gardens, spread out before. Michael knew that Nikita would love them.
"What has to end?" Jason prompted, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice, although he was smiling.
Michael gestured to his clothes. Brown pants with a green and brown sweater. "This...for one thing. This isn't me. This isn't this home." Michael turned to lock eyes with Jason. "I'm not your son."
Jason shook his head. "Don't say that, Michael!" he hissed. "You are my son. You saw the proof in the files. The blood tests and birth certificate."
"It means nothing to me," Michael replied, his voice devoid of emotion. He saw pain flicker in the other man's eyes and he felt a twinge of...regret.
"What do I have to do to convince you that...this is real?" Jason heard desperation color his voice and he didn't care. "Michael...You're free. This IS your home. I AM your father. I love you. I want us to be a family. And we can be. If you would just give us a chance."
Michael's eyes remained cold. "I don't belong here," he said softly. "You have to accept that."
Jason wouldn't. He had waited too long to find Michael. He wouldn't let him go. "I won't let you go back, Michael," countered, his eyes glittering like steel. "You're my son. You belong here, with me. Besides which...Section will soon be destroyed. There won't be any place for you to go back to." Jason made this pronouncement with a sense of satisfaction.
"That's part of the problem," Michael countered, smoothly. He had been hoping for such an opening.
"What do you mean?" Jason shot back, his gaze narrowing with suspicion.
Michael shrugged. "You want us to be a family. Father and son. But that can't happen without trust. I don't trust you..and you don't trust me."
Jason couldn't deny the truth of Michael's words. But he was willing to compromise. "What do you want from me? What can I do to show you that I have faith in us?"
"Show me the encrypted file," Michael replied, not missing a beat. "The one with my name on it."
"I can't do that," Jason hissed, his eyes pleading with Michael to understand.
But Michael shook his head. "Then we can't ever be a family," he said softly, turning from his father and walking away.
Operations studied the four faces before him. Madeline, Nikita, Walter and Birkhoff. He had news to reveal that wasn't pleasant. But he had no choice. Keeping his tone neutral and his face a mask, Operations spoke briskly. "From this moment on, if Michael is alive, he is to be considered a code One alpha security risk. If, by some chance, he contacts you, you're to call it in immediately. If you see him, cancel him on sight." As he said the last words, Operations' eyes were on Nikita. He watched her grow pale.
Madeline reached out and put a comforting hand on Nikita's shoulder, but it was also a warning to keep quiet. There was nothing anyone could say that would change things. Michael, by the length of his absence, and the mystery surrounding it, had become a security risk to Section. There was no getting around that.
Nikita glared at Madeline, then at Operations. But soon she was blinking back tears. Shrugging off Madeline's hand, she jumped out of her chair and ran from the room. Without thinking, she headed for Michael's office.
Walter and Birkhoff looked at each other, then they left in Nikita's wake. Madeline then sighed and looked at Operations. He shook his head and walked out. There was nothing more to be said...or done.
Michael sat at Jason's desk, reading the file with his name on it. After he had started to walk away, his father had grabbed his arm and agreed to show it to him...as a sign of trust. What Michael was reading stunned him.
The file was a copy of George's little, black book. George being the Head of Section One. The man to whom Operation's answered to. The man who truly was GOD over Section One. He could cancel everyone with a word. What Michael was seeing was something that not even Operations was privvy too. It frightened him. For with it, his father truly could destroy Section. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that Jason was waiting for a response from him. He didn't know what to think. Jumping up, Michael began to pace.
Jason watched his son. He didn't pressure him, for he realized that what Michael had just read would be a shock. So he was willing to give him some time to sort out his feelings. Jason felt certain that Michael would come to see things his way now. After all, he hadn't been kidding about having the power to destroy Section. With a smile of satisfaction on his face, Jason slipped into the chair that Michael had vacated. He studied the monitor screen, but he had the information nearly memorized. Names, and dates. Facts and data. The key to claiming Michael as his forever. "Have you made your decision?" Jason asked, when a long moment had passed. His eyes were still on the computer screen, but he felt Michael come up behind him. Then he felt strong hands on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry...father," Michael whispered. In the blink of an eye his hands gripped Jason's head and he jerked. There was a *snap* then the other man's head fell forward, limply. His neck was broken. Michael stepped away from the body for a moment. He didn't feel anything. No remorse, or regret. Nothing. He was in machine mode. Michael knew he had no choice but to cancel Jason DeWitt. Section One served a purpose. Even Nikita had come to realize that. She might not like it's methods, but she couldn't deny that innocent lives were saved because of the actions that Section One took.
But now was not the time for such a debate on the good and evil of Section. Michael reached for the cordless phone and punched in a number, even as he moved the chair with Jason in it, out of the way of the computer.
Operations was studying a report when his private line flashed. He snatched up the phone. "Yes!" he barked. Then he fell silent as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. He looked over at Madeline, who was typing up a profile on his computer. He tapped her arm, then pulled the phone away from his ear. "Cancel the Code One alpha on Michael," he ordered.
Madeline was stunned, but only for a moment. She realized who was on the other end of the line and smiled. Then she nodded and hurried off.
"Good work, Michael," Operations said into the phone. "Come in."
Michael sat in the chair across from Madeline's desk. She was sitting down as well, and Operations stood to her left. They were both smiling.
"You destroyed all the files?" Operations was asking.
"Yes," Michael replied. "As well as the hard drives."
Operations was pleased. "And the only copy of the black book is the one that you gave me?" he questioned, just to confirm.
Michael nodded. "That's right." His replies were typical. Short and to the point. It truth, he was finding it difficult to concentrate. But he didn't let it show.
Madeline sensed that Michael was distracted, but that was understandable, given the circumstances. She offered a smile, and some well deserved praise. "You did a good job, Michael. Section One is indebted to you."
"I did what I had to do," he countered, softly. Michael tried not to think of the ramifications of what he had done. What Madeline said was nothing more than words. They meant nothing in the scope of his existance.
"Are you allright?" Madeline questioned, seeing a flicker of emotion in Michael's silver-green gaze, that she couldn't identify.
Michael nodded. "I'm fine." It was his standard answer. "Is that all?" he asked, looking to Operations.
The older man nodded. "That's all."
"One question," Michael countered, as he rose to his feet in one, fluid, motion.
"Ask," Operations invited. He owed Michael that much. He only hoped that he could answer it.
Michael took a deep breath, then expelled it slowly. He wondered if he would regret knowing. He already did know, but facts could be forged, or faked. He needed to hear the absolute truth. "Was Jason DeWitt my father?" Michael knew that Section would have checked out all the facts during that sanitizing process.
Operations looked at Madeline before replying. She smiled at him, then he said, "Yes...he was."
"Thank you," Michael replied. He smiled, sadly, then left the room.
Nikita was waiting for Michael in his office. When she saw him, she jumped out of the chair and offered a smile. He looked pale and vulnerable, and she had the urge to hug him. But she simply waited for him to speak. When he merely stood in the doorway, looking at her, Nikita couldn't stand the silence. "How are you?" she asked, having heard the rumors of what had happened, from Walter. And his information was usually good.
Michael blinked. He felt the intensity of Nikita's gaze, but coudn't meet it. "I'm...okay," he whispered, wincing at how lame his words sounded. He was finding it difficult to keep his shields intact.
"Do you want to talk?" Nikita invited, hearing Michael's weariness, as well as seeing it in the shadows that flickered in his eyes. He was hurting and she longed to reach out to him, but feared being rebuffed.
"No," Michael replied, with a small shake of his head. There was nothing to say.
Nikita nodded. "Um....Do you want me to go?" Her eyes filled with tears to look at Michael. He was so damn vulnerable in that moment, that it was breaking her heart.
Michael drew in a shuddering breath. He felt his eyes fill with tears, but he blinked them back. Then he lifted his head to look at Nikita. The compassion in her eyes warmed the coldness that seemed to shimmer in his blood. "I...don't go," he pleaded.
"Okay," Nikita whispered. She stood frozen to the spot, uncertain of what to do. "What...do you want, Michael?" she asked, forthright.
"I want....I want you...to hold me," he breathed, almost too softly to hear.
But Nikita did hear him and in a heartbeat she had stepped forward and her arms went around him, even as she felt his arms slide around her waist.. Nikita felt him tremble and was unable to hold back her tears. "I'm here, MIchael," she whispered, her fingers combing through his hair in a soothing caress. "I'm right here."
Michael didn't reply. He simply buried his face in Nikita's soft hair and closed his eyes against the hot tears that threatened to fall.
THE END
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