Written by Codename Ghost
Date: 7/15/97
That Michael's life rested in her hands was a bitter thing
for Nikita to take and ensured her of a restless night spent tossing and
turning, running over and over in her mind how exactly she was going to
be able to convince Michael that everything the Legion had told him was
a lie. Lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, an arm draped across
her forehead, she tried to banish the image replaying through her mind,
that of herself with a gun shooting Michael, and think of a way out of
this. The hell of it was that there was only a thin line seperating the
Section from the Legion for the Section could be just as ruthless in its
pursuit of its goals, the Legion following its own code as well, opposite
sides of the same coin, the Legion a shadow of the Section. And for someone
that had been trained to do what had to be done to achieve a goal it wasn't
that hard to accept that the Legion's cause was just...
Groaning she rolled over on the bed to bury her head in the pillow and
closed her eyes, only to see in her mind the face of the woman she'd thought
of as Julie, a long-lost childhood friend, mocking her for her lack of
dedication to the Section, the hard light of fanaticism in her eyes as
she spoke of the Legion. She had truly believed that the woman was Julie,
had taken her into her home and found herself remembering that long ago
friendship, but she had never been Julie, had all along been a Legion member
trying to find a way to get to Mijovitch and assasinate him before he could
take part in his country's peace negotiations. And apparently the best
way had been through Nikita, still new to the Section and without that
shell of paranoia so many of the older operatives wore like a shield.
And when she did fall asleep it was to uneasy dreams, dreams in which she
held a gun to Michael's head, Madeline behind her and telling her that
it was the best thing to do, but when she was about to pull the trigger
she had seen that it was not Michael but herself sitting in the chair.
Sleep came in spurts after that and by 7:00 AM she was up and out of bed,
forcing herself into the shower, turning it on cold to clear her head and
wake herself up. Once out of the shower she went downstairs to the kitchen
to find a manilla folder lying on the table and a ring of keys beside it,
taped to the folder was a note in Madeline's elegant handwriting. Rubbing
at her eyes, Nikita set the note aside and searched the cupboards for a
coffee cup, seeing that someone had been kind enough to have already made
a pot of coffee.
Pouring a cup of coffee and adding milk and sugar, she sat down at the
table to sip her coffee and reluctantly unfolded the note, spreading it
out on the table before her. Not much in there, just telling her that Michael
had been moved to a room downstairs--hence the ring of keys--and that Madeline
would be in later to lend assistance. The contents of the folder consisted
of a series of 8X10 photographs, a pictorial history of the missions she
had taken part in with Michael, from her very first mission to the last
one before he had disappeared, and among them was the photograph Madeline
had shown him the night before, presumably taken at his and Simone's wedding.
Nikita extracted that photograph from the pile and raised her coffee cup
to her lips to take a sip as she studied it. A picture of happier times
and a window into the past, a life he had shared with Simone--not for the
first time she wondered what he had been like before he had lost Simone,
before he had shut himself off from everyone else in the Section. Her own
relationship with him had always been horribly complicated, every time
she thought she had him figured out he did something to throw all her perceptions
askew, from unexpected kindness to cold manipulation, sometimes making
it very difficult to like him. Made all the more harder by the fact that
she felt a connection to him, more than that of pupil to teacher.
A grumbling stomach demanded more than coffee and she had two pieces of
toast to go with a second cup of coffee, thumbing through the rest of the
photographs; by the time she was done her stomach had given up its complaints
and settled into a nervous knot. Six days left, seemingly a long time,
but then it had taken the Legion months to accomplish what they had done
and they had applied measures that Nikita would not even consider. Rising
from her chair, she put the coffee cup in the sink and ran water in it,
going to the table to pick up folder and keys, squaring her shoulders as
she went to find the room Michael had been placed in, preparing herself
to do battle.
Even with years of training and experience, it wasn't possible to remain
vigilant every single minute of the day, at some point one had to relax,
and it was in one of those moments that Michael had been taken: standing
at his mail box in the lobby of his apartment building, sorting through
mail when he should of just taken it all upstairs to look through it, aware
of someone behind him but not turning until it was too late. The hard muzzle
of a gun jammed into his ribs, someone else moving around him to pull open
his coat and removing the gun he always kept in a shoulder holster, turned
his head to look at the blond man that held the gun, grinning at him as
he grabbed an arm and pushed him forward. --Lloyd, said a voice in his
slumbering mind-- Out through the front doors and to a van waiting in the
front, the man Lloyd pushing him inside, forcing him down onto his stomach
on the floor of the van, one knee in his back while Lloyd pulled his arms
back and handcuffed him.
Movement off to one side and he twisted his head around to see the man
that came out from the front of the van, not recognizing him then, seeing
him only as an enemy.
"Hello, Michael." said Pietro with a dark grin...
That brought him up out of sleep, the sight of Pietro's face leering over
him, mouth dry and heart hammering. A dull ache in his shoulders and the
cold metal of cuffs on his wrists, sitting in a hard chair, and for a moment
he thought he was experiencing another flashback but this wasn't the same
place as before, the room was smaller and painted sterile white, not the
dim expanse of the warehouse he had been taken to before.
When? he thought in confusion, shaking his head a little to clear it. Nothing
more than flashes, vague memories of pain, but who had inflicted it, the
Section or the Legion? The Section was the enemy, they were capable of
anything, even of trying to convert him.
Then why had it been Pietro leaning over him? asked the little voice in
his head.
But before he could explore that thought any further there was the sound
of the door unlocking and he straightened in the chair, ignoring the protest
of sore muscles, focusing on the door. It swung open and the blond young
woman--Nikita, the other woman had called her--stepped inside, tucking
a ring of keys into a pocket of her jeans as she let the door close behind
her. A folder under one arm and something slim and black held in her hand,
smiling at him as she stepped closer.
"Good morning. Are you hungry? Thirsty?" She gave a shrug as
he remained silent and walked over to a table against the wall, laying
the folder down on it, returned to stand before him, flipping open the
small black billfold she held. "Do you recognize this?"
A local driver's license inside and his picture, the name listed as Michael
Renault, credit cards tucked into the other side of the billfold. He frowned
as he studied the picture, thinking of the same ID he had back at the Legion's
base, same name but different address.
"The Legion sent it us by FedEx, to prove to us that they had you."
Nikita managed to keep her tone even as she spoke, not betraying the emotions
that memory had raised. Called to Madeline's office to find her and Operations
standing behind the desk, Madeline watching her gravely as Operations tossed
the billfold on the desk before her. Reaching out, puzzled, taking the
billfold and opening it to see it was Michael's, it was like a blow to
the stomach, feeling sick and dizzy and out of breath all at the same time.
And through the fog of horror and shock, Operations saying that the Legion
had taken him and that by now he had most likely been executed.
"Seven months ago they took you--we assumed that they tortured you
and then killed you." And in retrospect she should of known better,
if the Legion had been blatant enough to send his wallet to the Section
then they would of made a point of leaving his body where they could of
found it. Perhaps Operations and Madeline had suspected that as well, letting
him remain where he was, knowing that eventually the Legion would bring
him out into the open so that he could be retrieved. And bring back with
him information on the Legion...
If so, they had played the game a little too close, relying too heavily
on the Section's resources and Michael's ability to resist.
"One of our informants told us you were still alive, that they were
using you for their own purposes."
The Section took you from us, Simone had told him, explaining away the
lack of memory. Held you and tortured you and then let you go once they
had gotten what they wanted. "Not the Legion, the Section--you were
the ones that took me..." He trailed off, no longer sure of what was
the truth and what was the lie. The Section would never let anyone simply
walk away free, no matter how cooperative they were, it wouldn't be practical
to turn someone loose that could cause future trouble.
"Who told you that, Michael? Simone?" asked Nikita gently and
he turned his head away, mouth set in a hard line. She moved with him,
kneeling so that she was in his line of sight, and said softly, "Simone
is dead, Michael. She's been dead for a year." A flicker of pain in
his eyes and she straightened, going to the table to take the folder of
pictures, extracting one and thrusting it into his face, forcing him to
look at it.
"This is Sparks." Unwillingly his eyes went to the photograph,
seeing a tall thin man dressed all in black, long black overcoat and black
top hat, the sunken cheeks giving a cadaverous look. "He led a group
called Glass Curtain, they specialized in downing aircraft. You and Simone
went on a mission to get information on Glass Curtain but they were ready
for you, ambushed you. Simone was killed...or so you thought."
A brief flash of memory--gunfire around him and over him, shouting at Simone
to fall back, trying to provide her with the cover fire to let her reach
him but being driven back, Simone falling under the impact of bullets--and
he closed his eyes against it, clenching his fists, driving nails hard
into the palms of his hands. "That's not true...she's alive."
The woman had to be Simone, she looked like her, talked like her...surely
he wouldn't care about her so deeply if she wasn't Simone.
"She didn't die then, no." agreed Nikita. "She was held
prisoner for three years, tortured, waiting for you to come, to rescue
her. You never came--not until it was too late." She walked a slow
circle around him and he kept his eyes straight forward, refusing to look
at her, but she had seen the hit score, a part of her hating herself for
using this against him, not wanting to continue with the attack but seeing
no other choice. "Do you remember what you told me, Michael? That
Simone asked for a backup team and you said it wasn't necessary?"
It wasn't necessary...the words echoed through his mind, an image of Simone
and himself, standing in a hallway, her request for the backup team and
his dismissal of that request. A memory that could just as easily apply
to the Legion as well as the Section. Nikita came to a stop before him,
continuing in that same calm voice, "I went in to infiltrate them
and I found her, alive after all that time. She died there, Michael, in
that base with Sparks--"
"No--" The dream again, this woman the one that had pulled him
physically away from the door, the door behind which Simone stood, and
Simone saying it was just a bad dream--which to believe? Both so sincere
and firm in their convictions, which to trust, this woman he didn't remember
or the woman he loved? To accept what this Nikita told him would mean that
everything he knew was a lie, Simone was a lie and the life they had together
was a lie...
The uncertainity in his eyes was the first sign that she might actually
be reaching him and Nikita pressed the advantage. "The Legion went
to a great deal of trouble to research you, to know what buttons to push.
They knew that to establish this identity they'd created for you, they
would need something to keep you in line. They bring in this woman that
looks like Simone and they tell you that she's your wife, that you belong
with them. And because you loved Simone so much you wanted to believe it,
believe that she was still alive and you were together again."
Her words sent a chill through him and he tried hard to remember what had
gone before, could only bring to mind the image of Simone at his bedside
when he had awoken. Looking up at her, eyes focusing on the familiar face,
he had felt an intense sense of dread and shock, had not been able to keep
himself from flinching when she reached out to touch him. A voice yammering
in his head, telling him that this was all a lie, but there was no memory
to refute the prescence of Simone here, nothing at all to hold to.
"But you can't be with Simone again, Michael, because she's dead.
That woman is not Simone and you do not belong to the Legion. The Legion
is the enemy, Michael, not the Section." And what a bitter taste those
words left in her mouth, words she did not believe herself, but she put
all the conviction she could muster into her words. "The Legion are
terrorists, assasins, they kill innocent people, and the Section exists
to protect the innocent."
"Why should I believe you?" It came out more as a plea than defiance.
She came in close, seemingly oblivious to the fact that if he wanted, he
could use his feet to strike out at her, and put her hands on the arms
of the chair, leaning in. "Because I wouldn't lie to you, Michael,
not about something as important as this. You know that."
He could only shake his head, not meeting her eyes. "I don't know
anything anymore..."
"You can believe me, Michael." said Nikita softly and he lifted
his head reluctantly to search her eyes, looking for the least reason to
doubt her but there was nothing there save her own conviction and sincerity.
And he found himself wavering, wanting to believe her almost as much as
he wanted to believe Simone...
The sound of the door opening broke the spell and Nikita turned, biting
back the words of irritation that came to her lips upon seeing Madeline
standing there, shifted her attention back to Michael to see him stiffen
in the chair, the momentary vulnerability gone, leaving in its place a
calm now a little ragged.
"I need to speak with you, Nikita."
Straightening, Nikita nodded and said softly to Michael, "I'll be
back." Following Madeline out of the room, she faced her, letting
a little of her irritation show. "I was getting close, Madeline, what's
so important?"
"Our time table has shrunk." replied Madeline evenly. "In
three days Elliot Warfield will be hosting a benefit dinner for the relief
fund and giving an impromptu press conference on the recent bombings by
rebel forces. We need to have Michael ready and willing to identify potential
Legion asassins. You've established a connection with him, he's on the
verge of trusting you, and you need to take it a step further."
"How?" asked Nikita suspiciously.
Madeline smiled. "I think you know how."
She felt her cheeks heat, as much as she tried not to flush, and folded
her arms over her chest. "I am not going to seduce him, Madeline."
Even if he had once been willing to do that to save her, she didn't think
she could do the same, she didn't have the same ability to distance herself
as he did. And it would be especially difficult considering her attraction
to him, difficult to keep control of the situation...
"Then you will have to cancel him, Nikita. Which would be more difficult
for you to do?"
Nikita looked away, wrapping her arms around herself and suppressing a
shiver, and Madeline laid a hand on her arm. "Your decision, Nikita.
I'll do what I can but you are going to be the one that will shift the
balance. Whether we succeed or not may be entirely up to you."
Nikita glanced back at the door, thinking of Michael on the other side,
hating the fact that this was on her head, whether he lived or died. It's
not as if it would be that distasteful...she tried to squash that thought,
finding herself flushing again, and slowly she nodded. "All right,
if that's what it takes..."
"Good." She looked at Madeline to see her smile in satisfaction,
as if she had already known Nikita's answer. "After I speak with him,
we'll give him tonight to mull over what we've told him. Be ready tomorrow
to do what you have to."
"You don't need me in there with you?" Part of her was relieved
at the thought--she didn't like watching Madeline work on him, didn't like
seeing her take him apart--but another part wanted to be there, to protect
him.
"No." The smile was still there but it had lost its softness,
achieving a hard edge. "There are things I have to say that you don't
need to hear. Take the time to decide how you're going to approach him."
And she unlocked the door and went back into the room, leaving Nikita alone
out in the hall.
End of Part 3
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