The light was incredibly bright and appeared to be beckoning to him. He was unable to move. He looked down at the clawing hands holding his arms and rusty chains that were fastened to his ankles. He strove to push them away and move forward. His brow glistened from the effort. The light changed into a bright kneeling figure.

He squinted his eyes at the brightness and felt a stir of breeze in the suffocatingly hot pit where he stood. He watched in amazement at the figure beating its wings in effort to leave. Her bright head flung backward as she looked upward. His body hurt with the effort that it took to move forward. The talons tore at his flesh. The figure turned at the sounds of his approach. He stopped at the sight before him. She was bright and golden and her hair was flaxen. The brightness hurt his eyes and he blinked in attempt to clear his eyes and focus. She tried to lift her hands toward him in a silent plea. He could see that her hands were bound and upon closer inspection he could see her white robe was smeared with blood and dirt. A dark cloud past over them. The bright angel began dimming. He then could see the fear in her clear blue eyes. He saw the chains at her wrists and feet. She collapsed to the ground. She turned her head and silently begged for help.

He stopped resisting his captors and let them lead him away. He turned back and focused on the feathers and blood left by the angel as she was dragged away. He heard the whimpers and the cries. The claws pulled at him and he was forced to the ground.

He lay in the dark unable to move, unable to breath, listening for the angel, wishing...

He awoke with a jolt. He was hot, uncomfortable and tired. The sheets were wound around his arms and waist like manacles. He had only fallen into bed an hour ago after a long mission that was as of yet incomplete and felt more like a waste of time. No contacts had been made, no intel acquired, no targets seen --48 hours of inactivity. The time had been spent ever alert and watchful, rethinking the profile over and over and blocking out the visions and nightmares. Now they returned in full force. He had no problem interpreting the dream. His head ached and he felt restless. He detached himself from the bed and quietly pulled clothes from the closet. He left his building and walked past his car for the long walk to Section. An hour later Michael strolled into Section, passed the necessary check points, entered his office and without turning on the light sank into the chair and rested his head in his hands.

***********

Birkhof's voice cut through his thoughts. His voice was curt as he responded. "Briefing in 10 minutes". He quickly turned on the computer. There was no profile, nothing queued up. He saw no evidence of the upcoming mission as he perused the menus and files. At a loss he checked the time and headed out the door. He knew instinctively that she was there.

Michael was the first to be seated. Four other individuals whom he had seen in passing, but knew very little about them, joined him. They looked nervous and uncomfortable. Nikita rushed through the door following in the wake of Operations. She slid into the empty chair and Michael watched Operations fix her with a penetrating glare. He continued to wonder why she insisted on irritating the man so much.

Operations gave little information. The facility they were heading for was a waste facility. It was a large complex that was used to house military wastes from biochemicals to radioactive materials. The entire facility was under heavy security and seemed impenetrable. Unfortunately, information was obtained providing the necessary intel to realize that Red Cell had obtained the means to break into the facility and help themselves to some of the deadliest toxins known to humans. Since the facility had so many different materials and chemicals being housed there Section had no idea as to the type, amount or kind that was being targeted. Section didn't even known the exact date and time - the only information that they had been able to get was the window of time when the theft was expected to take place. That intel was reliable, someone lost their life to provide that information.

***********

Michael's team was to be dropped and to watch and prevent the theft. The facility was unaware of the threat and the team was to stay invisible. While this seemed simple enough Michael was uncomfortable with the information provided. Even as he stood up after dismissal, Michael knew there was a lot more information than was disseminated. He purposefully strode from the room. Nikita did not follow him. After their last confrontation, he knew that she would avoid him. He knew it was for the best, but he hated it.

20 minutes later they were heading down the exit corridor and entering the van. Nikita appeared perplexed by the break in protocol and he knew why. The vehicle contained four nervous looking recruits. This confused him also. He had searched for information about each of them and found little. He didn't even know why they would be sent on a mission such as this or why he and or Nikita with them. Was it a test? Were they in abeyance? Nothing was done in Section by chance.

He quickly surveyed his PDA and found no additional information about this profile. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes effectively distancing himself even more from the van's other occupants.

Within minutes the van veered to the left and came to a halt. The passengers silently exited the van and climbed the steps to board the plane. The propellers were slowly spinning waiting for the passengers to board and get settled. Michael chose a seat in the back. He could see all five members of his team. He stared at the back of Nikita's shining head and closed his eyes a split second before she turned her head and glanced in his direction. Within minutes the engines raced and soon they were airborne. He spent his time staring out the window at nothingness, losing track of time. His head nodded and slid backward against the seat and he floated...

The light in front of him was bright but flickering. He noticed as he moved toward the light that the chains at his ankles had rusted and were literally falling apart as he pulled. The gold angel knelt with her head resting on her knees and her arms tucked under her body.. He noticed that her wings were bruised, bleeding and one looked mangled and broken.

He looked up and saw the dark and wondered how far away freedom lurked behind the gray funk. He knew that she would be never be able to fly there given the condition of her wings. When he turned back he noticed that she was watching him. Her eyes were full of trepidation, fear and pain. Her face was bruised and she had dark shadows beneath her eyes. He moved to take a step forward and the angel scurried to slide back and put the lost distance back between them. Her movement appeared to take all her effort and the chains on her feet rattled noisily. He knew he was foolish to believe that she would trust him. He had done nothing to gain that trust.

He knelt on one knee and held out his hand. After awhile she held out her hand, shaking and still unsure. He saw the ripped flesh on her fingers from where she had tried to dig away at the rocks with her bare hands and the bruises that encircled her wrist where the bindings had been.

A voice boomed out and the angel quickly withdrew her hand and clamored away. "Remove her wings, Michael".

A knife appeared in his hand. It was large, long and dull enough that the job would require strength and time. The angel strained at the manacles, trying to free herself. She looked at him with fear, the tears slid down her face, she swallowed and closed her eyes. He was still kneeling, his eyes drifting back and forth between the knife and the angel.

The voice boomed louder. "The wings, Michael, remove them."

The angel covered her ears at the loudness and whimpered. As if under someone else's power Michael rose to his feet and began the arduous journey between them. She opened her eyes and met his gaze with defiance. He was amazed at how beautiful she looked even soiled, bruised and battered. She was the light.

His feet felt heavy and he couldn't understand why he felt as if he had no control. He watched the tears slide down her cheeks and the bravado in her eyes slip. He saw the glimpse of fear. He reached his free hand out and touched her hair. Her eyes watched his every movement, but she made no attempt to move or free herself.

"REMOVE THE WINGS."

His hands moved without guidance. He was appalled at how his hands did the bidding of the voice. He had had no intention of hurting the angel but now they were both covered in blood. - in her blood. She was shaking and trying to push away from him. He pushed her to the ground knowing as he did that he was hurting her arms also. The wing was still attached even after his savage attack on it. Her screams were ear piercing. His hands stopped their vicious attack, dropped the knife and gently turned her over. His bloody hand pushed the hair from her eyes and left a red trail in her blonde tresses. All of a sudden unseen claws wrapped themselves around his hands, arms and neck and started pulling him away. He struggled and fought. When he turned back to the angel she was gone. The feathers that littered the ground were bloodied and broken. He allowed himself to be pulled away...

************

His body jerked upright. His eyes flew open and his hand moved to his side arm. He quickly scanned his surroundings. His body was tense, hot and sweaty, but yet he was cold at the same time. He suppressed the shutter that threatened to course through him. His head throbbed and his ears were ringing. His eyes migrated to the individuals that were littered about the plane. The only noise came from the young red-head. He watched the boy take apart and re-assemble his rifle at least three times. Michael hoped that at least the last attempt at assembling the rifle would be done right. His focus moved onto the next individual. Sam was the least "fidgety" of the group. His features were nondescript. His eyes appeared calm. Sam met Michael's stare without turning away. The other two slept - something he wished he could do. When he turned to Nikita he found she was watching him. Her eyes questioned him. Are you okay? He closed his eyes and then looked down at his hands. She turned away and leaned against the window.

They had arrived – finally. He was sick of flying and sick of traveling. They were all tired of riding and tired of inactivity. The Rover came to a halt and they each grabbed a pack before they started moving to the target. The landscape was barren. All six would be prowling through the complex and taking up silent stations. Then they would watch and wait. It was going to be another long mission and Michael was rather short on sleep.

**************

Even under the scrutiny of Section, the theft took place. Michael and his team had done exactly as they were told to do. They had watched and Section had watched via cameras and monitors. All hell broke lose in the facility as they became aware of the missing 87-T.

87-T was a difficult chemical to manufacture. When it was pure it was easy to disperse into ventilation systems, air conditioning systems and even released into the air would produce deadly results. Its effects were strikingly similar to methyl isocyanate. In 1984 a chemical manufacturing plant in Bhopal released 100s of gallons of MIC and 4000 people died and another 300,000 people suffered from partial or complete blindness, gastrointestinal disorders and impaired immune systems. While it took hundreds of gallons of MIC, it would only take 3 ml of 87-T to wreak havoc twenty-fold. This particular 87-T had been stored for destruction. The chemical was unstable and contaminated. Even in its contaminated form, in the wrong hands it could be lethal.

Now three vials were missing. Somehow without the detection of Section, the vials were gone.

The six operatives rendezvoused at the predetermined point. Because of the severity of the theft and the lack of information they had been told ahead of time that mandatory refusal was not an option if the theft couldn't be stopped. New plans had to be profiled. They piled into the Rover to start the journey back to section. Michael stared ahead unseeing. He dreaded the upcoming confrontation. Nikita touched his arm and silently asked if he shouldn't let someone else drive. Michael looked over his shoulder at the myriad of tired recruits, glanced back at her and wordlessly informed Nikita that he was fine. She sat next to him and he felt her gaze on his face. He put the gear into drive and headed out.

"What will happen now?"

He looked toward her and then re-focused on the road. He shrugged.

**************

Michael saw four alternate scenarios that were possible. One. The 87-T had never been at the facility, or was misplaced. Two. Red Cell had still been able to get into the facility, go directly to the storage cell and remove the deadly vials - without detection. Three. Someone within the facility was the thief. Or Four. The thief was on his team.

He would put his money on scenario # four. Their transport was already waiting as they arrived at the pick up point. Michael watched the others restlessly move about the cabin before finding a spot to claim and attempting to sleep. His eyes absorbed the activities of each. He was missing something, but he didn't know what it was. He had no intention of sleeping, there was too much at stake and he fought to keep his eyes open. But it wasn't long before his features relaxed...

Everything was so dark. His hands felt sticky. His mouth was dry. He ran his hands along the ground. It felt hard like concrete and it was cold to the touch. He tried to locate where he was. The air smelled of blood and rot. He closed his eyes and listened. No light, no sound. The silence was almost deafening. Suddenly the claws were back. He struggled as he felt the manacles being pulled around his wrists. He was pulled to his feet and forced forward. He held out his hands as he walked as if to avoid any obstacles. The only sound was the rattling of his chains. As soon as he felt comfortable going in one direction, the chains were violently pulled causing him to fall and then he was pulled in a different direction. As quickly as they had come, the hands disappeared.

He fell to his knees. He felt short of breath. He closed his eyes. Or maybe he only felt like he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure. Then there was a sound. The rattle of a chain. His eyes flew open and in the distance to his left he saw a light. He drew a deep ragged breath. The light. He drew himself upright and quietly moved towards it. He was unsure as to whether his movement was of his own accord. He walked deliberately, wondering when he would come to the end of the chain. His trek was not interrupted. His gaze never faltered.

It was the angel.

*************

The chain stopped him short. He was so close to her but he could not touch her. He noticed that her light wasn't as bright as it had been. He had remembered her brightness to be blinding and her eyes to be mesmerizing. He wanted to protect her, to keep the darkness from sucking in her light. She lay on her side, her hair covered her face. He strained his hand to reach her, to push away the hair so that he could see her face. With the effort he could only just touch her wing. He was happy to see that she still had her wings. They hung limp over her body. They were now dark, dirty and bloody. He swallowed, closed his eyes and turned away. He realized he was holding his breath. He opened his eyes and surveyed the area around them. He looked up. There were no stars, just never ending murk. His eyes tried to focus and penetrate the gloom.

His head whipped around at her moan of pain. He sat back, fearful of her reaction and watched her unfold and sit up. Her eyes focused on him. Her lips parted as her eyes slid over him. He sat perfectly still. She looked down at his hands and saw them covered in dried blood and realized who it was that she was surveying. He watched her transparent eyes cloud over with fear. He opened his mouth to speak and defend himself, but he could not utter a sound.

She whimpered and pulled away.

The hands came back and the claws grabbed and gouged at her arms, legs and pulled at the wounded wings. She cried out and fought against the dark appendages. Her eyes sought his face. He strained at his chains...

Michael's eye opened and his body lurched. He was gasping for breath as he quickly sat up. He rolled his eyes back. His body felt stiff. He checked his watch and saw that they had only been flying for about fifteen minutes ago. He felt tired and thirsty and his body ached as if he had been sleeping on hard ground for the last two hours. He sat back and ran through the profile in his mind - anything he could do to solve the problem that they were facing and to keep from sleeping.

He did not see the smiling figure in the dark.

************

The van arrived at Section. Rather than waiting as was customary for the team leader, Michael left the vehicle first. The first thing he saw as he headed down the corridor was Operation's scowl. As he got to the end of the corridor he nodded to the guards. As they left the van, his entire team was surrounded by Section guards. Their packs, gear, and guns were removed. All five of them, including Nikita were pushed to the wall and frisked for hidden weapons. Nikita pushed back and complained before she was slammed roughly back against the wall. Michael felt her heated and confused glare on him as he turned and followed Operations from the hall.

************

Madeleine sat at her desk smiling. Michael kept his eyes fixed on the wall to the left of her head. He wanted to remain standing, but she had insisted on him sitting. He wished that this debriefing would be over with so that he could continue gathering intel to solve the dilemma at hand. Madeleine moved, drawing his attention back. She sat back in her chair and continued watching him.

"You know that two vials of 87-T were found in her gear?" She watched for a reaction. None was provided. Madeleine got up walked around the desk and brush some imaginary lint from his lapel.

"Where is she?"

"You can do nothing for her."

"She was not the thief."

"She was missing from section too many times to believe that she had not been taken by Red Cell and now is a mole. Do you deny this?"

Michael swallowed and absentmindedly drew his brows together in thought. He recovered quickly and continued to stare at the fixed spot above the desk.

"I believe that she is being framed. Will you allow me to continue the investigation before punishment is enacted."

"Section believes in swift punishment and not prolonged unnecessary ... uses of space, food and materials." Madeleine moved quietly to her little garden and appeared to be studying it. She turned to run her eyes down his stiff form. "You look tired. Have you had any sleep?"

Michael's hands clenched. After a moment he turned to look at her before rising from the chair. He paused at the door. Madeleine continued showering her plants with attention and had apparently dismissed him. He finally escaped. With that he left the room and headed down the hallway.

***********

There were too many things to think about. He felt Walter's heated glare at he moved toward his office. He opened the computer and quickly began typing. Walter opened the door without even knocking and stood in front of him with his arms crossed. Michael continued working. He had no time for interruptions and he had to remain focused. He finally looked up. Walter was angry. The older man glanced at his feet and then back at Michael. Michael removed his hands from the keyboard, deactivated surveillance, sighed and resigned himself to the verbal lashing he expected to receive.

"She didn't do anything, Michael. She didn't take anything."

"I can't prove one way or the other at this point."

"Can you at least get them to make her comfortable? She has to be scared witless right now."

"Her comfort is the least of my worries, Walter."

Walter looked down again and then back at the young operative. He had to believe that Michael cared. He whispered, "What can I do?"

Michael looked at his hands and blinked. "Let me know what is happening. I can't investigate and make sure she stays alive. Do you know where the rest of the team is?"

Walter nodded and replied that he would find. He turned on his heel and quickly left the room.

On a whim Michael pushed the necessary buttons that would display the images of the white room into his office. To anyone that didn't know Nikita well her face was blank, but to him she looked tired and scared. She had a bruise on her face and a trail of blood at the corner of her mouth. Madeleine continued to walk around the chair that Nikita was strapped to. As if she knew who was peering at her through the security camera, Nikita fixed an angry stare at the lens. He couldn't hear any of the audio, but he knew what the context of the one-sided conversation would be about - the location of the missing vial and threats for information. He could see that she was alive, for now. He knew she was even more angry with him. Her anger was something he could live with. But her death, he could not.

He sighed, ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in the chair. Without even being aware of it, his eyes slid closed...

He blinked his eyes at the brightness of the light. He fought with his own chains and strained to reach her. One of the hands swatted at him as if he were a fly and he landed on the hard ground with a grunt. One large claw wrapped around her shoulder and he watched as it pierced through the skin. The pressure continued until the sharp talon came through the front of her body. Her cries were getting weaker as she struggled. Her eyes sought his face. She stretched her hands out toward him and as he watched a dark cloak appeared and wrapped around her face. Her cries were instantly silent. He could only see her eyes, frantic with panic and fear. The cloak continued to envelope her until she disappeared. Darkness swallowed the light.

Darkness swallowed the light.

He lay in the darkness...

He groaned as he jerked awake. His head throbbed. His body was hungry, tired and dirty. He felt stiff and tense from his... umm.. he checked his watch... 10 minute nap. He rubbed his eyes and after glancing out the window at Walter, he sat back down at the computer and busily worked the keyboard, feverishly digging for information. ************

The remainder of his team had been held in individual isolation. They all knew that Nikita was being held and would most likely by canceled for dealing with Red Cell. They had watched in wide-eyed amazement as the vials were discovered and the blonde woman had been dragged off to the white room. Michael also knew that the 87-T would continue to degrade over time due to its instability making it less and less effective with time. That meant that whoever knew the location of the last vial would have to make contact soon. He pieced the puzzle together slowly. He played the video of the 87-T discovery over and over again, watching each of the other team members in turn. He watched the display of the video with little reaction before bursting into a flurry of activity.

Sam had carefully navigated himself away from Section. He felt confident that he was no longer under suspicion and wasn't being followed. After all they had captured their culprit and the rest of the team had been released. His hand tightened over the small vial he held in his pocket. He had easily hid the vial as they came through the exit corridor and when he was no longer under scrutiny he went back to retrieve it. His lips curled as he contemplated his ingenuity. Then his features tensed as he considered his next task. He had promised three vials of some chemical stuff and was certain his contact would be less than pleased with the single aliquot he had procured. He left the signal and headed to the meeting point and shivered as he waited for his contact.

Michael leaned back into the shadows and watched the tremor run through the young man as he surveyed the surroundings. His eyes narrowed at the movement behind the recruit. He watched as the vial appeared and the Sam doubled over in pain. The entourage continued to scan the perimeter before retracing their steps and dragged the boy into the darkness. Michael waited and turned before heading back to Section.

The tracer on the vial blinked its steady light and no longer was moving. After 30 minutes of stationary flashing, Birkhof reported the location. The team had been following the signal and located what was suspected to be a secondary location for Red Cell. It was unknown what kind of machinery, equipment or personnel was located here, but the knowledge that destruction of the building would partially cripple the organization appealed to Operations. He gave the signal to gain access, investigate and eventually destroy the building. He turned his head and saw Michael walk into the control area and pass by on his way to the white room. Ops smirking face turned back towards the situation unfolding on the monitors and redirected his attention to the team.

************

Walter intercepted Michael. The dark man looked haggard and needed sleep. Walter grabbed Michael by the arm and immediately released it. He certainly had the man's attention. "They won't release her."

Michael's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Walter shrugged, swallowed and glanced at Michael before digging his hands in his pockets and quickly heading back to his station.

Michael turned and headed back to his office. He flicked on the screen and entered the appropriate codes. The image flashed. He could see that she was still strapped to the chair. Her head was hanging forward. Anger started to spread through him. He stood up with new determination and headed towards Madeleine's office.

It was dark and section was growing empty. He had been unable to see Madeleine. Operations was no longer in the main area. Michael headed back to his office and stared at her image. He leaned forward and put a tickler into the computer so any activity near that particular white room would alert him. At a loss, he leaned back into the chair. Knowing the dreams were possible, he still acquiesced and allowed sleep to over take him...

He stood in the darkness. The heat was stifling. He could only hear his breathing and it sounded loud and ragged. The chains rattled as he turned and he bent down and felt for them with his hands. The chains were new but the bands on his ankles were rusty and worn. The jagged edges of the corroding leg irons were cutting his ankles, but he was oblivious to the pain. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of decay and blood . He felt unsure of the direction that he should turn. He carefully moved his hands back and forth as he inched his way forward on his hands and knees. His hand brushed something soft. It felt different and out of place in the pit. He moved his hand back and found it again. It was a feather. He picked it up, sat back and held it to his nose. The smell was sweet and intoxicating. He clenched the feather in his hand and continued his trek. He grew more tired and thirsty. His body ached.

************

He awoke with a jerk. He was slick with sweat. He pushed back his hair and leaned forward in the chair. He looked at the computer with consternation as he realized the image of Nikita was gone. His fingers flew over the keys but he could not get access to the monitors. He called for Birkhof. A shaky voice responded telling him that Birkhof had left for the remainder of the night. Michael closed his eyes and asked about the monitors. After a few moments the frightened voiced answered that a glitch had knocked out monitors all over the facility and that a process was underway to reactivate them. He was also informed that the Red Cell outpost had been knocked out, the team was enroute and Madeleine and Operations unavailable for the night, unless he had an emergency. Michael took a deep breath and admitted he did not.

He shut down the computer, stood up and headed down the dimly lit corridors to the assortment of white room. He stood outside the check point and stared in at the row of doors. He ducked back into the corridor, leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. He knew any move he made would be scrutinized. He knew he was being tested and he knew that to ignore the test would not stop it. They would follow through with whatever their plan was unless he stopped it. He was certain that they had known all along that the snotty-nosed kid would steal the vials and plant them on her. He didn't know how they knew, but he was certain they knew. They were all too predictable. Nikita, Sam, and himself. His head hurt from the effort of running the through the possibilities. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes...

He pulled on the chain, the shackle cut a deep gouge across his foot but would not give. He wasn't certain why he wanted the band removed because the chain seemed long and did not appear to hinder him. Plus he had no place to go. He sat hot, thirsty and dejected. A flash caught his eye. His head jerked toward the direction of the blip of light and he waited. He strained his eyes waiting for the light to flash again and listened for a sound - any sound. After an eternity he saw the light again. It did not stay for long, but he quickly stood up and headed in the direction. He heard a whimper and the sounds of struggle. He swallowed and continued toward the sound. He kicked something and heard a cry. He dropped to his knees and felt around. His hands closed around a piece of fabric. It was cold and when he touched it he felt the power that it held. It seemed to be drawing life from him. He held tight as he felt the fabric pull against him. He didn't particularly like the feel of the material but it was something. He couldn't explain the draw - it was something in the vast nothingness. Something that he could fight. Something that he could focus on. He didn't like the thought of sitting in the murk unable to hear, see or feel anything. This was something. He pulled sharply and felt the material give. It fell away and revealed the bright figure, still struggling. Michael closed his eyes at the brightness. He had been in the dark so long that the light was blinding. He blinked and turned back to the angel. She was breathing hard from her struggle and was attempting to back away. He watched her profile as she stared at the twitching fabric. She swallowed and then looked up. He face was scratched and bruised. He was amazed at her transformation and he gasped. Her head snapped at the sound. Blue eyes clouded with recognition before she looked away. She struggled to stand. His hand reached out to help her, but she hit at his hand. Her eyes flashed in anger. He knew he had hurt her more than help. Wanted to help her. He was intrigued by her light. He wanted to protect her. He opened his mouth, but could not make a sound.

"The light will be doused, Michael. It is nothing more than a weakness." Michael turned at the sound. This time he knew he could not and would not be led away.

The slack in her chains began shortening. She looked at the shackles with confusion as she was pulled to the ground. In short order she was spread eagle on the ground, whimpering.

He rushed forward and fell on his face as he reached the end of the chain. He rolled over and strained with his hands on the metal bands. He lurched forward as the band broke away and wrapped his bloodied hands around her bindings.

************

He eyes flashed open. He knew what he was going to do. He stood up and moved as quickly as he could considering the stiffness in his body. He passed the check point and knew that the surveillance system was aware of his passage. He moved without hesitation, threw the level to open the door, and turned on the lights. He immediately noticed her stiff posture. She had not known who was coming through the door or what was ahead of her and had surely been expecting the worst. She swallowed convulsively. Her eyes darted from his face to the camera and to the floor. She tried to compose herself and her eyes shot daggers at him before he was at her side to open the restraints that secured her to the chair. Her skin was ashen and cold. He wordlessly warned her to be silent. Confusion radiated from her. He took her hand and pulled her from the chair. She clutched at him as she nearly toppled over from two days of inactivity and residual drugs in her system. He grabbed her shoulders and steadied her before turning away and leading her out into the hall. He paused by the check point and then they quickly exited the area. They headed through as many unoccupied corridors as they could before exiting Section. He knew he had probably signed his own death warrant as well as hers. But her meeting time with death had still been scheduled for tomorrow and he knew that life without her was dark and foreboding. His actions were rash and probably stupid, but he didn't care. He gestured for her to get into the car and they silently slid into the seats. They made no attempt at conversation. He didn't know what to say to her. He felt her watching him. He hoped that his current actions would out weight his previous actions. He knew that they used her - that he used her, even without intending to. It just happened. He had no idea if he could get her to understand that. They wordlessly exited the car once they arrived. He cautiously survey the grounds as he followed Nikita up the steps. Their trek was slower this time. Nikita's gait was disjointed and uncomfortable, but he continued to follow without pushing. She stood looking at the door of her apartment before Michael pulled his keys out, set his dazed companion aside, drew his gun and slowly opened the door. He knew the instant the door was open that they weren't alone. He blinked as he met a familiar grimace.

Operations smiled as he absentmindedly gazed out the window. Michael and Nikita filed in. He put his hand on her arm and partially stood in front of her. His eyes wordlessly asked for her silence. The white haired man was still surveying the landscape around the flat before he turning his and glowering at Michael. "You have failed."

Michael nodded. "The cancellation of Nikita would have been a senseless act. She is a good operative."

Operations continued to speak as if the object of their conversation wasn't even present. "She continues to be a thorn in my side and yes, I would have her canceled without a blink of my eye. She has hypnotized you and half of Section. She is a weakness. She is your weakness. But you can be certain that her longevity is gravely threatened. I expect you both at Section tomorrow morning. See that you're there. This is not over." The man took a few steps to the door and turn again to look at the pair.

"Michael, your failure will be recorded and filed."

Michael heard the unspoken continuation of the statement - 'and used against you at a later date.' With that the Operations turned, and left.

************

Michael drew Nikita up the stairs and sat her on the bed. He knew that he should not stay, but he would not leave Nikita in this state either. He wiped the dried blood from her lips and put a cold cloth on the bruised cheek. He knelt down and removed her shoes before sitting back to study her features. His hand moved slowly towards her face and stroked the hair out of her eyes. Then he took hold of her shoulders and laid her down on the bed before pulling the blanket up around her chin. As he turned to leave she cried out and sat up quickly grabbing at his hand before he was out of reach.

"Please stay, Michael."

His eyes took in the strain on her face. She bit her lip as if she wished she had not spoken, but her gaze never faltered. He knew they were both tired, closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. The empty spot on the bed beckoned him. He was tired and the invitation was appealing. They would have a hard day ahead of him and he hoped that perhaps at her side the dreams would subside. He bent down and removed his shoes. She smiled and reclined, watching him as he moved silently to the other side of the bed. He slid down next to her and pulled the blanket up over both of them. His movements were stilted. He glanced at her face and saw that she was sleeping. He smiled and allowed himself to sleep...

The chain snapped. The remaining chains loosened and he was able to scoop the angel up into his arms. She pushed against his chest. He longed to hold her, to help her. But he knew that she would not be flying to freedom. Her wings were damaged and the chains unrelenting. Even as he sat holding her he felt new metal bonds wrapping about his ankles. He sighed. He lay back and closed his eyes. He felt the angel push away from him. He turned his head and watched her cautiously back away from him. After she obtained a distance she felt comfortable with, she sat down. She scanned the entire area before turning back and watching him. Then she crawled back to him but leaving a few inches between them. She was unsure of where to go and he figured he was the least of all evils. He didn't mind.... then he drifted.

Before dawn he sneaked out. He gazed longingly at Nikita and retreated before his expression was discovered by her. He had gotten some sleep - uninterrupted sleep and he hoped that he would be able to get more before the night was over. Nikita sighed and rolled over. He took one last look and headed down the stairway, picked up his coat and walked out the door. As he walked he hunched his shoulders and kept his head low, still scanning with his eyes. He breathed in the early morning air and reached into his pocket and frowned. His feet stilled while he drew his hand from the fabric and peeled back his fingers.

There lay a perfect bright, white feather. He smiled and pushed it back into his pocket before heading to the car.

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