He grabbed her hand. She withdrew it shaking her head. "Not until you tell me where we're going."

He chuckled at her defensive posturing."Where are we going?" she repeated allowing a small smile to flicker across her lips. When he didn't answer she turned from him and started walking.

"You can't go back to your apartment," he called after her, "the cleaners are there."

She stopped looking back at him. "Aw right, fine, I'll go over Carla's."

"You can't; the building was evacuated due to 'gas poisoning'."

She pursed her lips and sighed letting her shoulders slump. Leave it Section to evacuated an entire apartment just to "clean" her room.

She looked back at Michael sighing, "Where was it you wanted to go?"

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, and his eyes smiled at her. In a few quick steps he was beside her. He swept her up in his arms. She laughed involuntarily.

"Michael," she protested, "Put me down!" She looked around to see if anyone was watching them.

"I'm taking you to my place." He said propping her higher in arms.

She stared at him shocked, then slowly wrapped her arms around his neck bringing her body closer to his. "Your place?" Curiousity alone was enough for her to want to go with him.

Michael refused to put her down despite her protests. Against her better judgement she rested her head on his shoulder ,mesmerized by the tiny puffs of air his breath created. She felt incredibly safe.

He walked up the sidewalk and opened his door before setting her down. She slowly took her arms from around his neck looking around her as she did. It was not what she had expected.

He watched her for a few minutes as she walked thorugh the hallway. He enjoyed her interest, and he watched as she explored the various rooms lightly touching furniture and paintings. He followed always a step behind her for a while.

She stopped by the fireplace and ran her fingers over the mantel laughing as she discovered a significant layer of dust. "Looks like you need a cleaner yourself, Michael."

Sensing that she had begun to relax, he offered, "Can I get you anything - drink, something to eat?" while leaving her in the living room.

"Thought you'd never ask, I'm famished" She said. He exited to his kitchen area

She continued to explore the living room admiring its masculinity. One got a sense of strength from the simple wooden furnishings. She looked around fro photos or any sense of personal touch. His couch black leather was the only item not wooden. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Looked more like something she would buy. Whatever his incentive for buying it, it didn't match the other decor.

She tested each chair before continuing her exploration inot Michael's world. A cherry wood desk captured her interest. She stood by it admiring the fine handiwork that went into the ornate designs. She followed the designs with her fingertips, smiling.

Without thinking, she opened first one drawer and then another. The first drawer held a variety of gadgets and small dsiks. She was about to shut the last drawer when she noticed a thick manila folder with her name on it. There were various other folders as well. All had people's names simply printed on he outside.

Curious, she picked her file up taking it to the window. She looked towards the kitchen door; she couldn't see Michael. But, she could hear him in the process of making their breakfast.

She paused a minute before opening the folder. She decided that perhaps she shouldn't look at its contents. She went back to the desk. As she knelt to replace the folder, its contents spilled onto the floor. She knelt down looking to the door again. Michael was nowhere in sight. She began to stack the papers looking at them as she did.

Hurriedly, she gathered the scattered sheets of paper stuffing them inside the manila file. As she did, Nikita couldn't help but observe the various pictures of her apartment, pictures of her and Gray. With each leaf of paper she picked up, she felt her heart pound faster, 'til it felt her whole body was pounding with each beat. She felt like she could be sick.

She let her breath out slowly, contemplating the magnitudee of her find. She started to stand to replace the folder, but noticed one more picture on the floor. She picked up a picture of her holding a cat in her apartment. That was the night she had drawn a gun on him;the night he had kissed her hand ever so gently. She turned it over in her hand. Michael's hand writing spelled the details of the events bringing back that night with startling clarity.

She stood slowly letting the folder drop from her hands; its contents spilling on the floor. Her heart was but a deafening sound in her ears repeating itself over and over in her head. Her eyes attempted to focus on the room around her but it seemed to "beat" in time with what she heard. Somewhere, it seemed so far away she heard Michael's voice. She felt intense void. She clenched and unclenched her fists ;her nostrils flared.

"Did you want juice or coffee?" Michael asked from the other room. "Nikita.."

He went to find her. His front door was open, and he saw the pictures on the floor near the window. He cursed under his breath and walked slowly to the open door shutting it.

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

"Thou hast wounded the
Spirit that loved thee
And cherished thine
Image for years.
Thou hast taught me
At last to forget thee
In secret, in silence, and tears."
Mrs. D. Porter

Michael waited in his apartment sitting in his black leather chair, just sitting. For some reason Mrs. Porter's words rung in his thoughts. "...wounded spirit...forget thee... tears."

A soft knock on his door broke through his thinking. Slowly he turned his head in the direction of the door. He pushed himself to the edge of the chair and listened every muscle in his body tense with expectancy.

Again a quiet knock was heard. He stood, rubbing his sweaty hands against his pants. Mentally he prepared himself for a minute. Walking quietly to the door, he opened it.

"Madeline." he couldn't hide his disappointment.

She scrutinized his face and general appearance out of habit, staring expectantly around him.

He turned and walked back to the living room leaving her standing at the door. Dropping himself into the comfort of his leather chair, he retraced his thinking, remaining deep in thought. Madeline closed the door behind her softly, she slowly emerged in the doorway of the living room.

Michael sat rigidly with his hand over his mouth, eyes glazed over staring into space. His body tense like a loaded spring.

Once inside the room, a folder on the floor caught her attention. Walking over to scattered pictures and memos decorating the space in front of the desk, she gazed intently at each picture occasionally looking at Michael.

Putting them neatly in the folder, she commented on his thoroughness.

Her words bounced like rubber off the steel wall Michael had erected with his heavy silence. Sighing and shaking her head ever so slightly, she crossed the room to sit across from Michael. She observed every detail of his face then sitting back in the chair, she dropped her gaze before asking, "Do you know where she went?"

He raised his eyes looking at the folder Madeline held in her hand. He shook his head no without looking at her. He seemed put off by her presence. His irritation at her invading this private moment was obvious.

"You care for her." she said slowly, gently, soothingly.

"No..." he said rubbing his forehead and standing.

'I love her' He thought to himself discovering the truth as he voiced the simple words.

"How can I care for her?" He shook his head and took the folder from Madeline's hand.

Looking at the folder in his hands he repeated, "How can I care for her?"

With a disgusted sigh, he tossed the folder into the fire watching as the flickering flames enveloped the folder crisping the edges of paper, each picture curling slowly in the heat, twisting in the flames, producing puffs of black smoke as the fire slowly enveloped each item.

"She saw the pictures." Madeline said matter-of-factly, pursing her lips and tilting her head to watch for his reaction.

He nodded taking a poker and pushing a stray photo into the dancing flames. "Why are you here?" Michael asked not taking his eyes off of the flames.

"You need to find her, Michael." she said standing wrapping her coat around her.

"What do you want, Madeline?" He asked turning to face her fully. His repressed anger evident by the ice in his eyes, the taut line of his lips, and the muscle of his jaw tightening and relaxing.

"Jake's contacts saw Nikita as a liability. That's why he was instructed to kill her in the apartment. We found the evidence in his apartment; they feel she could use the information in those disks against them."

Michael listened without saying a word. His expression hardened as he shifted into mission mode. Grabbing his coat from the closet, he left her standing in his living room.

***********

Outside his door he paused momentarily wondering to himself how he would find her. He drove for hours, stopping at malls, her favorite coffee shops, her favorite spot on the wharf. In desperation he even went by Gray's apartment. The apartment was empty, and a "For Rent" sign hung in the window.

He had been everywhere driving past the same places again and again. As he drove past the aquarium, it suddenly hit him. He slammed the brakes on, pulling into the turning lane. The car behind him honked disapprovingly as it zoomed around him.

Almost sensing her presence his heart started to beat a little faster. The darkened atmosphere was comforting in an odd way. The pungent smell of salt water stung his nose, and the room seemed very cool and damp. Black lights illuminated all white fabric making it appear purple.

His wandering gaze settled on a figure in front of the dolphin tank, blond hair bright purple in the light tossed carelesssly to one side of her neck.

The reflection of her genuine smile in the glass caused the corners of his mouth to turn upward a little. Breathing on the glass she created tiny clouds of condensation on the glass where she traced figures of fish. The dolphins stayed close to her area of window, bobbing their heads and touching their noses to the glass where her fingers drew the figures.

He watched her from afar unwilling to take this pleasure from her.

Two men in long black coats entered the aquarium. They circled the room before locating their target. As if sensing danger, Nikita turned around quickly scanning the room.

She found Michael almost immedaitely; he started to walk towards her. She continued searching the room. Her eyes opened wide with fear and she gasped; following her gaze Michael yelled "Nikita!".

Too late he saw two guns trained on Nikita. Two shots rang out. He turned wildly back to look at Nikita. She dove to the ground rolling as they fired two shots.

In the confusion of panicking people, Michael tried to push past the crowd to the location of the shooters. Upon getting there, he found nothing.

Chaos ensued the shooting. Screaming. Pushing. Stampede-like masses. Through the tide of people he saw Nikita struggling to stand. Fighting the crowd, he made his way to her side.

A pool of blood was slowly expanding around her feet. She pushed herself up to a sitting position tears formed in her eyes and she winced as she surveyed the wound.

He knelt beside her trying in any way to help her. She pushed his hands away and attempted to stand pulling herself up using the handrails.

A groan of pain escaped through her gritted teeth as she placed weight on her right foot. She grasped above her thigh. She let out her pent up breath.

"I'm okay." she held up her left hand to prevent him from helping her.

"Let's get out of here, Nikita" he said eyes darting to find the best exit.

She nodded and with a defiant lift of her chin, limped along the wall clinging to the railing small grunts of pain escaping every now and then.

Back at the Section doctors helped Nikita. Michael debriefed with Madeline and Operations. When he left that night, Nikita was resting comfortably. He was told that she could leave the next morning.

The next morning Michael arrived early. The nurses looked shocked to see him.

"How is she?" he asked picking up her file and scanning the previous night's activity report.

"Fine." one of the nurses replied with a puzzled expression on her face.

Michael was so preoccupied he wasn't noticing the murmurs between nurses, the stares. Without raising his head he asked, "Why was she given another tranquilizer this morning?"

Silence was his only response. He looked up seeing for the first time the uncertainty in all of the faces.

"What is it?" he asked thinking the worst.

One of the nurse shook her head and looked toward the room.

Michael's face began to line with worry. His shoulder slumped momentarily, losing their confidence. Slowly he walked towards her room. Upon opening the door he found nothing save an empty bed and monitors.

"She left thirty minutes ago." one of the nurses volunteered.

"Impossible." he said walking inside the room picking up IV lines and the monitor wires. "How could leave here alone in that condition?"

"She wasn't alone."

He looked at the nurse and tilted his head to encourage her.

"She left with you." the nurse said eyeing him as if he had grown another head.

**********

"I just got here." His expression hardened as he searched every face for an explanation.

Blank faces stared back at him. Finally a red-headed nurse sheepishly volunteered, "You came in here barely said a word, ordered a tranquilizer, then wheeled her out of here."

Michael disgustedly threw Nikita's chart on the bed and started to walk away.

"Ahh, Michael..." the red-headed nurse intercepted his path. His gaze bore through her holding her against the doorway. She gulped and stammered for a response. Her face burned red, but she held her ground long enough to offer, "You ... well... whoever was here... they left this on the table."

She slid free of his gaze and crossed to the bed. Shuffling through the chart she produced a Section memo with Nikita's scrawled signature at the bottom.

"It's blank." he said snatching the paper from her hands.

The nurse wiped her hands on her pant material and responded only with a shrug of her shoulders. "It was on the table." She pointed to the bedside table.

******

Two hours later Michael sat in a room with Madeline and Operations. Tension hung like heavy rain clouds in the room.

"The memo found in the infirmary was not blank. Upon further examination, we found the following message." Operations clicked up the liquid blue screen. "The Section memo contained an emblem and a message in Latin which Birkoff has translated."

Now the Bird rises to eclipse the Sun devouring all within its shadows; the hunter become the hunted.

Operations clicked off the screen and looked uncharacteristically affected by the memo. Madeline reached over and placed her hand over his. He glanced at it and placed his other hand over hers patting it. The whole scene disgusted Michael and he looked away to hide the irritated expression on his face.

"What exactly was Nikita involved in?" Michael asked concentrating on his intertwined fingers held stiffly in front of him.

Operations stood barely able to keep his composure. He gripped the back of the chair, steadying himself. He cleared his throat as if to say something, but instead he quickly exited the room.

Michael looked at Operations retreating figure and then to Madeline expecting an explanation for the unusual behavior. Before his eyes she shifted from a controlled, reserved woman to someone he barely recognized.

Anger contorted her features, and she aged twenty years before his eyes. Fighting for control, she stood taking a deep breath while pouring a cup of tea. Careful to keep her back to him she stirred cream into the steaming liquid.

"Eclipse." Grasping the cup so tightly her knuckles turned bright white, she cooled the steaming coffee with her breath. Doing so seemed in a way to calm her exterior; and when she addressed him again, she was restrained and in control of her emotions. She faced him with a tight smile.

"Eclipse?" he queried.

"Think of Eclipse as a elite group of serial killers." She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to correct herself. "No, think of them as evil incarnate. High profile people who have no soul."

"How come I've never heard of them?" his voice was steady as he stood and walked slowly behind her hiding the upheaval of emotions flooding his

"Their anonymity is their greatest strength. Master mind manipulators, they chose their prey carefully after researching and profiling them. They capture victims by conning them, impersonating authoritative figures, fitting in, remaining invisible. They are highly organized, sadistic killers."

She paused letting her words take their full effect on him. She couldn't see his face, but her trained ear picked up his increased breathing, his fight for control.

"It's a game for them, Michael. The bigger the challenge, the greater the high. Winning is what it's all about for them."

" So...they have Nikita. Game over?" The words came spewing from his mouth as if they had been poison. He walked to face her searching her face for answers.

Shaking her head, she lowered her eyes. "No, it begins now."

"Begins." He rubbed his forehead and wondered aloud. "How did this happen?"

"Whatever we suspected of Jake, it was nothing of this magnitude. We knew he was getting information and selling it, but we did not know Eclipse was involved."

"They tried to kill her twice, why bother with a kidnapping."

"If Eclipse wanted Nikita dead, she would be dead. The shooting at the aquarium guaranteed her placement in the infirmary. Remember, Michael, these people are manipulators; they are educated; they have genius capabilities. I suspect they need her for information she could supply to complete the game."

"What game? Information for what?" None of it made sense. He had the distinct feeling that he was in the dark about a lot of what was really going on here.

She ignored the questions, evading his eyes.

"I need a list of all operatives with whom Nikita has had close contact with before you leave here. Read this file and you will understand better."

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

At home Michael set the file on his desk and poured himself a glass of wine. Settling in his black leather chair, he sipped the wine while leafing through the file. It read like a first-rate fiction novel detailing accounts of horror, mystery, and assassination.

The story starred a thirty-six year old operative, codename: Rogue. She seemingly disappeared from the Section medical center without a trace twenty years ago to the day. Two weeks later, a total of sixteen operatives were found murdered.

The victims differed in age, sex, and operative status. Method of operations included strangulation and blunt trauma to the head, methods which required close proximity between the victim and the aggressor. Crime scenes displayed minimal signs of struggle. Obviously the victims knew the killer; trained operatives were not easy prey for outsiders.

The killer spent great amounts of time cleaning the crime scenes. That type of control and apparant lack of remorse for the death was shocking even to Michael. Tiny metallic Eclipse emblems about the size of a thumb nail were found attached to each dead body.

The killings stopped with the death of the sixteenth operative. To add to the mystery, there was no record of Rogue's death or capture only a letter found outside the home of Rogue's Section mentor. It's message was fairly brief and haunting.

Game Over.

Section: 0 Eclipse:16

Sentence: Twenty years, with one chance of parole.

Holding up Rogue's picture, he admired the way her eyes challenged the camera. Her long auburn hair hung in soft ringlets around her shoulders. He took in the creamy skin, the full red lips, and translucent blue eyes.

If he covered the red hair, the woman looked strikingly like Nikita. Reading on he discovered the similarities didn't end with just the physical likeness. Rogue's data file contained notes that he could have written about Nikita. Rogue and Nikita differed only in the positions they held in the Section at the time of their kidnapping. Twenty years ago Rogue was a seasoned operative, a veteran of fifteen years responsible for training young female operatives.

He closed the file and glanced at his watch which revealed the lateness of the hour. Wearily he stood to his feet rubbing the back of his neck as he reviewed the files in his head.

Too many unanswered questions made sleep an impossibility for Michael. He decided a walk would help clear his mind. He walked for miles not seeing a thing around him. Hands plunged deep within his pockets, his mind raced with many unanswered questions.

"Why would Rogue kill her friends. If she was as much like Nikita as the file lead him to believe, it didn't make sense that she would turn on fellow operatives."

In front of Nikita's apartment building; he paused, staring up at her darkened window. He fingered her key in his pocket and made a hurried decision to see the apartment one last time.

Out of habit, he knocked on the door before catching himself. He opened the door and walked inside the darkened room. Neon lights and a row of sunglasses greeted him. He inhaled deeply, a part of him recognizing something familiar. She'd only been gone a short time, but already her place seemed in some way to miss her. Everything seemed limp, lonely, lost.

He circled the room with his eyes, memorizing every detail as if he didn't already know it by heart. His fingers traced the countertop as he made his way to the French doors. Opening them a cold wind gently lifted his hair. He caught his breath as the icy breeze bit his face. He exhaled and walked through the white cloud that marked his breath.

A movement to his left startled him. He turned and found a huddled mass encased in a furry blanket leaning against the cold brick.

"Nikita?" in two steps he was kneeling beside the figure. Gently he pulled back the cover to reveal a very sleepy-looking Nikita.

She looked at him through foggy eyes. "Michael?" she said raising her hand to cover his own on her face. Her eyes remained half-open as if she found them too heavy to lift completely. She rested her head on the wall and closed her eyes while mumbling "I'm very tired. You should come back later."

He gathered her in his arms and hurriedly took her inside closing the door with a backward motion of his foot.

The motion seemed to arouse her from her sleepy state somewhat. Like a grumpy bear forced out of hibernation, she pushed against his chest and wriggled out of his grasp.

Swaying in front of him, she weakly lifted one arm to point at him. Her other hand went out to steady her balance but missed the mark. She fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Seemingly unaffected, she instantly curled into a ball wrapping the blanket around her body.

He knelt beside her covering her with his coat. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm so cold, so tired, so...." Her chattering teeth made it hard to hear the words she buried her face inside her hands.

"Why were you outside?" He took her hands from her face and clasped them between his own. Tiny icicles trembled ever so slightly between his hands.

A reddened, blotchy, tear-stained face revealed itself. "'Cause...." she leaned weakly against his leg.

"Come on, we've gotta get you warm." Letting go of her hands, his arms encircled her and he pulled her with him to a standing position. She leaned heavily against him. Shivers rattled her body; her extremities shook violently.

"Nikita," he pulled her back from him. She could barely hold her head up. It swayed from side to side like a pendulum. The blanket that she had been holding dropped to the floor. She grabbed his arm in an attempt to steady herself.

Then he saw it - a tiny metallic sun pinned to the sleeve of the Section infirmary gown.

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

"Michael," a female voice sounded in the doorway.

He turned abruptly towards the voice and stared in shock. The woman, unarmed, approached him from the French doors. He strained at the darkness trying to make out the figure.

Neon lights flashed across the figure's face illuminating the woman's features as she neared him. She walked a slow circle around the couple then looked at her watch. "I expected you to be here sooner, Michael."

Five armed figures entered the room from the outdoors; their black masks and suits covered all but their eyes. They formed a tight circle around the threesome.

The woman raised one eyebrow, picked up Nikta's fallen blanket and handed it to Michael. He wrapped it gently around Nikita's shivering figure manuevering her so that her back was to him. He supported her in the crook of his left arm.

"Your concern is very touching." She stepped closer to him looking him in the eye then looking down at Nikita. She gently lifted Nikita's chin and traced a finger along her cheekbone. Michael tensed and shifted Nikita's weight in his arms.

"What took you so long, Michael?" she asked letting go of Nikita's face and walking outside the circle of force.

"I was reading up on you, Rogue." he said evenly.

"Impressive! You know my name." She mocked, clapping her hands to feign approval. Her expression hardened, eyes narrowed issuing an unsaid challenge.

"Let's get to the point shall we."

"Yes, by all means. Shall we sit?" He motioned to a chair with a plastered smile covering his face.

The circle of black-cloaked figures broke to allow his passage. His mind raced filtering every option of escape. He processed every aspect concerning the people in the room. Taking out two or three of theirs would be no problem, but he couldn't risk not being able to protect Nikita.

"Always the gentleman." She sat poised on the seat's edge eyeing him with lion-like prowess. Michael deposited Nikita on the couch, leaning forward so that her body fell behind his, shielded from danger.

Both hunter and prey appraised each other; both bodies drawn like loaded springs ready to pounce at any given opportunity. In silence they held each other's icy glare. The struggle for power beginning. Evenly matched, both set out to explore and uncover weaknesses.

Rogue's gaze shifted to Nikita's shivering body. Michael shook his head and laid a protective arm across her trembling figure.

"She doesn't have long, she's going into hypothermic shock." She searched his face for a response.

"Your concern is touching, Rogue" Michael mimicked. Round one to Michael.

In the blink of an eye, she back-handed him twice and grabbed a handful of his hair forcing his face upward. The five figures moved in one coordinated movement to cover Rogue with their guns.

"You seem to think YOU'RE in control here, Michael. You're not. I decide who lives and who dies...." she released his head and pushed her gloves back on her fingers. "I decide!" she reiterated.

"What happened to you, Rogue?" Michael feigned concern.

She was taken aback for a minute, but recovered quickly. And with an indifferent sigh, she walked out of his line of vision. "Michael, surely by now you know you can't believe everything the Section hands you. Reality is often very different than perception."

"Suppose you tell me..." he offered.

A maniacal laugh issued from her throat, and Michael shivered involuntarily. "You want to know what happened." She was before him again her features contorted with rage and hatred. "Sixteen operatives - my friends - all murdered."

"Why kill your friends?" he pushed. He could tell it was affecting her.

Her hands dropped to her side limply and she looked upward her eyes glazing over as she remembered. For a brief moment the woman from the picture taken twenty years ago stood before Michael. A look of innocence replaced the former mask that had covered her face.

Michael pursed his lips, his expression blank, controlled. He looked up at her and gambled, "YOU didn't kill those operatives did you?"

She snapped out of her reverie, cleared her throat and sought to regain control. "You're wasting valuable time, Michael." Her eyes pleading with him betrayed the controlled, edged voice.

"Who killed your friends, Rogue?" he pressed searching her face for evidence.

His question had the effect of a bullet ripping through her. She turned her back to him and covered her ears with both hands as if to shield herself. Then like an invisible light swtich had been flipped she turned again to face him.

As if by magic all remnants of former emotion faded. In their place were coldness, bitterness, and intense hatred.

Her eyes took on a new evil as she sneered, "Nice try Michael." She heaved a sigh and shook her head, "I'm the shadow of that woman you read about." She walked to the French doors.

A hypodermic needle pierced the back of Michael's shoulder, and intense warmth flooded his body. The room went dark.

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

Michael weakly lifted his head. He struggled against the extreme fuzziness. Sounds echoed inside his head making it hard to concentrate. Trying to focus on his surroundings, he blinked several times and wiped his eyes.

"Good morning! " an automated voice sounded over the intercom.

He observed his surroundings. The room appeared to be a solid panels of mirrors. As he stood an extremely bright light shone from above. He tried to shield his face from the brightness.

"What do you want, Michael?" the voice coaxed almost child-like.

The oddness of the question threw him off balance a little; he thought for a minute before answering, "Does it matter?"

"It matters."

The bright light dimmed and each panel of mirror suddenly illuminated with a dream-like vision. Every panel reflected Nikita's body hung lifeless suspended by a silver mask which covered her head and shoulders. The rest of her body was encased in a silvery film-like fabric. "Nikita?" He touched the reflection on the mirror. He looked around the room desperate to find a way out. Up and down each panel his hands covered every inch probing for a doorway.

Hours droned by, the steady hum of the intercom was steadily driving Michael to distraction. He could tell the were listening, watching. The bright light caused beads of sweat to surface above his lips. He looked at Nikita's reflection still illuminated on every panel and slid down one of the walls rubbing the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "What do I want?" he asked trying to shield his eyes as he looked up.

"*We* want the best operative for this game."

"Why ask me what I want." He shook his head and closed his eyes wearily.

"We believe in helping those who help us."

"No, you believe in controlling people." He rose pacing like a caged animal. His head hurt; he was tired, hungry, and fed up.

"Temper, temper," the voice taunted. "We want to insure your best, in the end you will be rewarded with either freedom or power."

Suddenly a part of the file he read flashed in his memory. Rogue's mentor, one of the few who seemingly escaped the initial blood bath due to his trip to the Middle East, had been promoted after the cessation of the serial killings. He remembered finding it odd that he was not targeted, but the relevance of his promotion afterward had seemed unimportant until this very moment.

"Freedom from the Section, or Power within the Section." the voice explained.

His mind continued to process the information. It was starting to make sense now. Eclipse didn't want Nikita now, and just they had not wanted Rogue twenty years ago.

"What is your decision."

"Decision." he repeated. Rogue's mentor must have chosen power. If Rogue was still alive perhaps this mentor was as well. His thoughts jumped back to present and he re-focused all his efforts on getting out.

"Suppose I say, I don't want either?" He challenged.

A pause followed. Michael waited a satisfied smirk creeping across his lips

Through static the voice interrogated, "What do you want?"

"I want to win." Michael waited hoping to evoke some kind of reaction. Madeline had said it was all a game to these people. Wasn't a game about winning at all cost.

The perpetual whine of the intercom ceased, and all pictures of Nikita on the wall vanished.

"No!" Michael cried rushing to the mirrors he touched where Nikita's illusion had been then hit the panel hard, cracking then mirror.

A panel opened and Rogue walked in. "Winning is NOT an option, Michael!" She seethed. She lowered her voice. "The future of Section One has already been decided."

"So kill more innocent people in exchange for a game." He looked behind her to the open door. Licking his lips her tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but everything within him wanted to bound through the open panel.

She walked away from him leaving a clear path to the door as if daring him to attempt escape. "Innocent people?" She spat incredulously.

His eyes riveted on the doorway judging the distance with his eyes.

"Come on Michael, I recruited those innocent people. Murderers. Extortioners. Rapists." She stepped close to his face her eyes level with his. "Those people were NEVER innocent."

Snapping her fingers, she motioned above her. A minute later two men brought Nikita's body into the room.

"Let's talk about games, shall we, Michael?" The guards held Nikita's body between them. Rogue watched Michael for a reaction and got what she had anticipated.

Michael looked at her with horror, his eyes pleading though he would not voice his concern.

Rogue was relentless, she pushed Michael towards Nikita. "You took her soul. Don't tell me you can't do what we ask."

He shook his head as if to deny what was being said. "I've protected her."

"You've protected her," she taunted. Spurred by his painful expression, she lifted Nikita's head by grabbing a handful of golden hair. "You talk about innocence ... here's your innocent. Focus everything you have to save HER, Michael. She's your only chance at redemption."

The men threw Nikita at Michael, then left the room. Rogue followed. "Think about it." She ordered at the doorway.

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

An hour later Michael was brought into a tiny office devoid of color and light save one bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling by exposed wires. His arms and feet were restrained to the chair in which he was forced to sit.

Rogue entered, "I trust you've had sufficient time to think?" She smiled at him turning her chair backwards to sit in front of him.

"What happened twenty years ago." Michael looked defiantly at her.

She leaned back in the chair shaking her head and closing her eyes. "You want to know what will happen to Nikita."

He nodded.

"Maybe you really do love her." She shrugged. She rose from the chair and circled around Michael in the darkness her steady deep voice spelling out what happened unveiling twenty years of secrets with contempt and hatred.

"I was involved with my mentor, but he had a wife and family." she paused.

"When we were captured by Eclipse he chose freedom." she said simply.

"But I thought he was promoted," Michael questioned.

"Not freedom from the Section, freedom from me." She explained. Drawing a deep breath she continued. Her voice softening as she remembered, "We cared deeply for each other. More deeply than physical, emotional, or spiritual love. More than partners, more than a marriage because we depended on each other for our very lives."

She sat in the chair and held Michael's gaze. Both acknowledging the truth of what she had spoken.

"But ... He did love his wife and family." she nodded and closed her eyes as if what came next was too painful to remember, "I told him he couldn't have both." She stood shaking her head, " and given the chance, he insured his future by keeping me away for good."

She pushed the chair across the room angrily. Michael remained silent.

Her voice continued to escalate. "Think about it! Sixteen operatives, trained killers, murdered in two weeks. Impressive, don't you think. Eclipse was impressed, so when he asked that I be kept here they complied. I trusted him with my life as I always had, but he never came back. Eclipse has made me into what I am today."

"You want me to kill your mentor." Michael speculated turning to find her voice.

"Yes. but more than that I want the world to know of the heinous crimes he committed for the sake of power. I want his wife and children to see the monster he really is. When that happens, I will have won. When he dies. Eclipse wins as well.

"That's it, kill one man. Eclipse sells itself short."

"Kill one man and tell the world the truth, and believe me it won't be easy." she warned.

"So who is this man of steel?" Michael asked sarcastically.

"I believe you know him as Operations."

***********

Michael's face revealed nothing. He looked stonily straight ahead. A sliver of anger registered briefly in his eyes - then nothing.

"No reaction." She studied his face. "I think I know what you want." she smiled at him and then left. Stopping to lean next to his ear she whispered, "Then you will perform what I want."

A knock on the door and then murmuring voices were heard. Michael strained to catch the words.

All at once a man was beside him observing him with interest. An ordinary man of no great stature. A pair of spectacles dangled peculiarly on his nose. He made a smacking noise rolling his thin lips as he circled Michael's figure. Then he finally stood smiling before Michael revealing a set of yellowed teeth, some missing.

"I'm supposed to stay here ...with you while they get her." He smoothed his greasy black hair with both hands looking almost nervous as he twitched his head from side to side looking warily behind Michael.

Michael looked over his shoulders and around the dimly lit room. From what he could tell, no one else was present. He looked back at the anomaly in front of him who was now intently studying the sole of his boot while balancing precariously on the edge of the chair. Michael observed the man unsure of what to think.

"It's taking too long." the man pushed the dirty glasses back in place. "Maybe she's escaped. Maybe she left you." He sat on his hands pinning them beneath him looking very child-like rocking side to side in the metal chair that seemed to engulf his small frame.

Michael shook his head, wondering to himself why such a man was chosen to watch him. These people truly loved their games. He shifted in his chair, his arms were aching from being restrained.

The door behind him creaked opened. He could hear sounds of struggle and Nikita's angry voice. A flicker of hope came to his eyes as he strained to look behind him. The little man scurried to the side, clapping his hands together and jumping up and down.

Two burly men came into Michael's vision. They were carrying Nikita bound to a chair, arms tied behind her. One of her legs was free, and she was making good use of it by pummeling her captors making it all but impossible to control her swaying body in the chair.

They finally dropped her in front Michael then exited the room, and with that the little, greasy hair-man came to life. He ripped off the duck tape which may have once covered her mouth, but now hung partially to the side just below her bottom lip.

Then taking a deep breath he stood over Nikita, smoothing her hair and reverently stroked her face. He closed his eye and let out a deep cleansing breath. "You're more beautiful than they said."

Nikita searched Michael's face for an explanation while turning her head away from the repulsive touch of this strange man.

"Now that we're all here..." He straightened himself raising his chin confidently and placed his hands in a tent before him. He began his spiel almost as if reciting rehearsed lines from a play.

"My name is Anthony, I am here to for you Michael - to give you what you want" He then put his face inches from Michael and mocked "Nikita!! Nikita!! " at the top of his lungs.

Nikita kicked at Anthony with her free leg pushing him away from Michael. Anthony fell to the side and looked with amazement at Nikita. Her angry face, defiant glance, and gritted teeth seemed to invoke hysteria. He started to laugh while pointing his finger at Nikita. He laughed so hard he could barely stand. The harder she scowled the more he roared.

Perplexed, Nikita turned her head away rolling her eyes and biting her lower lip.

Half a second later, he became serious again maneuvering to the side of Nikita's face observing and tracing her jaw with his eyes. "Did you know he calls for you when he sleeps?"

Nikita swallowed hard and looked uncertainly around the room trying to avoid the stench of Anthony's hot breath blowing across her face. She stole a sidelong glance at Michael confirming what Anthony said to be true.

"We'll get started now, I think." Anthony moved a covered tray into the circle of light. The rattling wheels and clanking instruments reverberated through the small room.

Michael watched Nikita close her eyes as if trying to find a thread of strength or hope to which she could cling. A small whimper escaped suggesting she couldn't take much more.

In Nikita's self-made silence, the last few day's events caught up with her. Thoughts flooded her mind as tears flooded her cheeks. She didn't care if this was the final chapter. She wanted it all to be over. She anguished over the near death experience with Jake; the pictures at Michael's house; the kidnapping from the Section; the mental torture and abuse from Eclipse. Slowly her defenses were breaking down; she just wanted it - whatever "it" was - to be over.

Michael watched her sensing her withdrawal. The way her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing; the way she sucked air through gritted teeth; the way that resignation emanated from her like fragrance of a sweet flower. She was refusing to look at him - perhaps trying to hide the fact that she had given up.

In his mind he begged her to hold on, not to give up. With superhuman strength Michael heaved himself forward, the chair skidded closing the distance between him and Nikita somewhat.

Just as quick her foot shot out resting between his legs on his chair as if to prevent him from getting any closer. She shook her head and managed "Please don't hurt me, Michael." she choked out.

"Not yet," the high-pitched whiny voice of Anthony rung out in response to Michael's action. He spread Nikita's hair over her shoulders tracing between her shoulder blades. He stood in back of her and framed her face with his hands, looking at Michael.

"How much do we need to erase, Michael." He talked as if he were a hairdresser asking how to cut off the back.

Nikita surrendered to the grasp and let her head rest limply in her captor's hands. Anthony jerked her face up so that once again- Michael was all she could see.

"I don't understand." Michael said looking briefly from Nikita's eyes up to Anthony's.

"You don't understand." a look of amusement passed over him and he released Nikita's head. "I'll make her forget the past, you can start over - make her love you. Rogue said that's what you wanted."

"You can't do that!" Nikita interrupted not taking her eyes off Michael. "You can't make me love a monster." She twisted her head trying to rid herself of his touch. "Please just let me die." directed both at Michael and Anthony.."

"Give us a minute?" Michael asked locking eyes with Nikita.

Anthony dropped his hands and leaned down to kiss the top of Nikita's head. "Good-bye, love!" Then he skipped out of the room pausing a fleeting moment at the door. "I'll be back" he sang while dancing a few steps in place. He closed the door with a thud.

***********

Nikita's eyes glared briefly, contemptuously at Michael, then went to the tray. "Nikita..." He had no idea what to say to her. He had never seen her so distraught.

She was sobbing now. Her words broken as she caught her breath between sobs. "I just want it to be over, Michael!" she shouted and sniffled "I can't.... live ....like this. .....I don't know how ......to live ...a lie. I just want it to be ......OVER!"

"Those pictures you saw;... they were never meant to be seen." He said desperately wanted her to understand.

She stopped her tears and shook her hair out of her face. Anger became her dominant displayed emotion. "You think this is about those pictures?! You think the reason I'm so upset is because you keep a log on me like a pet hamster. Damn you!!" She pushed hard against his chair with her foot, but succeeded only in nearly knocking herself to the ground. She sat back cursing silently to herself.

Michael couldn't look at her. For a full two minutes the only sounds that filled the room were that of their labored breathing.

She fought to regain control grateful that at this moment Michael was silent. The release had felt good. It was long overdue. Looking up at Michael she saw concern edged in his face.

"What is it you want me to say, Michael?" she focused on him, searching for answers in his face. "That I forgive you for all the lies between us." she crinkled her forehead and shook her head. "What lies between us... it's too great. You can't fix it with 'I'm sorry' anymore"

"I know."He blinked hard and glanced at her sitting face forward in a chair, hands bound behind her, bruised legs, barefoot. He looked closer to see swollen face, puffy tear-stained eyes blinking back tears, reddened mouth and chapped lips from tape and dehydration. His eyes traveled down her body. The silvery translucent fabric couldn't hide bruised ribs and abdomen. He took in torn and bloodstained area surrounding her wounded leg. Blood trickled in a steady weaving current plunging its way down her leg and ending in a tiny pool of blood around her foot.

He blinked again and looking up he saw Simone in a dog kennel beaten and bruised left for dead. He saw Angie. He saw Lisa. He saw hundreds of faces with whom he never placed names.

Something inside him snapped. What had been once been dead was raised to life. An ache started somewhere in his chest and continued to course through his body like a vile venom. His mind clouded, his body numb. His thoughts like a wild swarm of bees crowded his head each begging to be heard though he could not possibly entertain each one of them.

The chains and fetters of control breached, he retched, but nothing came. Sweat poured from his face, dripped from his fingertips. His heart moved from his chest and encompassed his whole body pounding wildly creating intense heat.

He was sick of watching the hell between them replay itself over and over. He would never be free. They would never be free. Next week someone new would take his turn at beating the life out of him or Nikita, and then after that another and another. It could only end in death. Merciless, wonderfully complete death. What had been enough to Michael for so long suddenly seemed hardly worth the effort. A cry of rage escaped from deep within him giving voice to the upheaval within him. Neck veins bulged. His eyes were wild, unearthly. He lifted his head to the sky and screamed again. His arms and legs strained at his bonds to deepen this passion within him. His right arm broke free, and in a moments time he was totally free from the bonds. Blood dripped from his right wrist. He was quite sure he had dislocated his thumb. None of it mattered. His mind, body and soul felt things for the first time in a long time. It felt like both heaven and hell lived inside him.

His eyes focused on Nikita who was staring at him with both horror and admiration. Within seconds she was too was free. He knelt beside her placing his hands on her shoulders. "I was wrong, and I am sorry." The sincere ring of truth sounded like fine crystal that had been dinged.

She weighed his words carefully measuring his face, searching his eyes for truth. She nodded. Nikita didn't know what to think. She had never seen this unbridled passion.Part of her wanted to run away from him while the other wanted to run away with him. No matter. His screams were sure to bring attention. They would have to work fast to make good their escape.

Adrenaline was taking over for both of them; they found renewed strength to go on and hope for survival. In her haste Nikita knocked over the tray that Anthony had left them. Cluttered with various metal instrunment was a key.

Michael whispered urgently from the closed doorway "Come on, Nikita"

She held up the key looking at him with amazement. The key slipped into the lock, and they opened the door cautiously. They exchanged a look that said 'There is a God.'

Voices could be heard. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Spurred to action, they quickly dispensed of two of the three guards. They quickly changed into the uniforms and led the other guard by gun point to the outside door.

At the door Rogue stopped them. "Michael, Nikita!" They whirled around to find her gun trained on them. Two other men banked her. "Shoot the woman if they so much as twitch." she ordered.

Then taking careful aim she shot and killed her own guard. "Drop the guns!" She commanded.

Michael and Nikita looked at each other and then back at her neither of them dropping their guns.

Rogue fired across Nikita's shoulder. She flinched but only tightened her grip on the gun. The sound of Michael's gun dropping to the floor reverberated.

"I think I got it from here boys," Rogue glared at Nikita, and motioned the men away.

"You both want to die." she murmured. "You'd rather die together, then live outside is that it?"

No answer.

"We can play the game without you." she leveled her gun at Nikita's chest.

"No!" Michael threw himself in front of Nikita grabbing her arms and keeping her behind him.

Rogue's eyes filled with tears. "You have a chance at something wonderful, don't blow it. You never know what life will bring. Take what happiness you can get."

Michael sensing a weakness dropped to the floor and took aim at Rogue's body. He ehard a shot and looked up at Nikita.

"She shot herself, Michael." she looked down at him in amazement.

"No more innocents," he murmured as he stood.

"What?" Nikita asked looking around for guards.

"Let's just get out of here." Michael returned.

***

Back at the Section Operations was nowhere to be found. Madeline offered no excuse for his absence. Only Michael could guess the possible reasons. "Another note was found." Madeline offered. "We'll continue debriefing tomorrow when you've had a chance to rest." She left Michael and Nikita in the Medlab. Michael unfolded the note.

To Section One: With pureness of heart and strength of lions, your debt has been paid in full. Nikita remain pure, Michael learn to love again.

Both Nikita and Micheal had fought and conquered separate demons that day. In the end with demons conquered they both felt purged of the sickness they had incurred.

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

Nikita opened the door to her apartment heaving a sigh. It was finally over. Life as she had come to know it was back in place. She gazed at the familiar brightness and closed her eyes it was good to be home. Even though she had showered at the Section, she longed to spend an hour curled in hot suds.

Michael closed the door behind him. It startled her out of her reverie. She had almost forgotten that he had volunteered to drive her home.

"You can go, Michael, I'll be fine." She took off her coat and hung it in her closet.

"I think someone should be here your first night back." he voiced as he helped himself to a glass of water.

"What and your volunteering." she shot back at him.

He looked at her very oddly and nodded.

"Whatever." she rolled her eyes and took off to her bedroom. A knock on the door startled her.

"Michael?" She cast a worried look around, but felt some reassurance as she saw him on his way to answer the door.

"Hope you like Greek takeout." he said opening the door taking boxes from the delivery boy and paying him. An amused smile crept over his lips as he took in her shock.

"Great, and he cooks too." She smiled nearly forgiving him as she took the bags from him and set the containers out over her counter. Smells of pasta and Feta cheese wafted throughout the air almost intoxicating in their flavor. She pulled out a bottle of wine, glanced at it and then nodded at him.

Michael was enjoying the sight before him. He relished every detail. Everything about her seemed to thrill him. The way her hair draped like a shroud around her shoulders. The child-like way she laughed at each item she pulled out of the bag. Her simple delight at something so meaningless.

His expression changed as he remembered moments like these were short-lived. He didn't realize he was frowning.

"We don't have to eat now if you don't want to." she said taking the frown as a sign of disparagement.

"What? Oh. No, I'm starved, let's eat now." he offered a tight smiled.

She paused a moment as if reading his thoughts. But then she grabbed a fork and sunk deep in her most comfortable chair munching the salads and pastas right out of the containers.

Michael chose a plate and sat down watching her not bothering to eat.

"You know I'm not going to be able to eat if you keep watching me like I'm going to break." She said through bites of a breadstick.

His behavior was so odd. She tried to figure out what could be bothering him, but nothing came to mind. There he sat in his dark suit and black pants, stiff as ever not even conceding to eat out of a container. She laughed aloud at the thought of a ravenous Michael throwing caution to the wind and actually eating with his hands.

"What's so funny?" he smiled.

"Nothing." she stretched, heaving a contented sigh as her belly signaled contentment. She noticed he still hadn't touched the food. " Listen, I'm really tired, Michael. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed." She left the half-filled containers where they lay in her table and took off to her bedroom.

The hotness of the water relaxed her tense shoulders. She had no bath bubbles and only one clean towel, so the sudsy bath would have to wait. She tilted her head to catch the full-effect of the spray. Rolling her neck back and forth across her shoulders, she turned and let the water soak her hair.

Thirty minutes later she reached for her towel and found nothing. The room was thick with steam, but she saw a black heap near the towel rack. She reached for it and wiped her face.

She noticed then that the black heap was not a towel but Michael's suit jacket. perplexed she stood there for a full minute before draping it around her bare shoulders. Curious, with arms crossed over her chest holding opposite lapels to the jacket, she opened the door.

Flickering candle light illuminated her bedroom. Her eyebrows furrowed and she stepped outside the bathroom tenatively taking in the room. In the far corner Michael stood lighting the last of the candles. She shifted a little in his jacket pulling it tighter across her shivering body which was still dripping.

Michael walked over to her. She felt her heart start to race as he gently took in the wet hair, half-naked body. She wished she could stop shaking.

"Feel better?" His eyes held hers so tenderly before they traveled to her lips, back to her eyes, then back to her lips.

She gulped, smiled quickly and nodded. She turned to go, but he stopped her.

"Michael," she started

"Shh!" he whispered not taking his eyes from her lips. He put his finger there to mark his place.

"I thought.." her lips moved against his fingers until he covered them sweetly with his own.

"Shh!" he held her chin upward and gazed deep into her eyes. Letting go of her chin he took off his shirt. Muscle rippled in the candlelight with his every movement.

She closed her eyes not believing this could be true.

"Open your eyes," the whisper at her ear as he moved behind her sent a ray of ecstasy down her spine, and she caught her breath.

She opened her eyes to see a beautiful yellow rose. She reached out and took the rose.

"Your codename is Josephine!" He whispered tickling her ear with his lips as he took his jacket from her.

She could feel his chest on her back, his breath on her neck. One arm circled her waist pulling her closer to him while the other moved her hair to one side. He gently kissed her shoulder working his way up her neck.

She turned to face him. Desire burned in both their eyes. She tasted the saltiness of his fingers as he ran his hands over her face.

In another moment they were on the bed, and soon nothing lay between them. Nothing from the past. Nothing of the lies. Nothing of the betrayals. Nothing lay between them.....

THE END

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