Disclaimer: I only own my OC. I do not own Nikita or any of it's awesome characters. Although if I owned Birkhoff I would not complain.

Prologue

I honestly thought I was hallucinating. One moment I was in my apartment, the next I was looking at a man whom I thought I would never see for the rest of my life.

"Birkhoff?" I whispered attempting to raise my head. It felt so heavy and thick I was only able to raise it a few inches off the ground.

"Gemma?" he whispered. "What happened to you?"

"Birkhoff?" I murmured again incredulous. "Is this a dream?" I felt him lay a hand on my cheek.

"Why did you leave me?" he said loudly. "WHY? Was I not good enough for you?"

"Birkhoff, it was never you! It was me." I cried, tears rolling down my face.

"No, your just an ungrateful bitch. After everything Division has done for you; what I've done for you and you choose to repay us in this manner." He took out his gun.

"Birkhoff. Oh God, please no!" BANG! With a start I jerked awake and looked at the man lying beside me, safe and comfortable in bed. Seymour Birkhoff, the man that kept all the secrets of Division, the agency we both worked for. I was the star; he was the whipping boy.

Relationships weren't allowed in Division; we had to keep ours a secret. No one had any thoughts about it, except maybe Michael, but the rest just knew us as best friends. It was difficult at times to hide the relationship, especially when I went on missions, because Birkhoff was our communications expert who knew and watched all the videos and live feeds. It became especially difficult if I was injured in the field. The one day that Birkhoff almost snapped and revealed our budding relationship, happened when I was captured and brutally tortured. He had been watching the whole thing. I was finally retrieved by an extrication team, but after that fiasco Birkhoff was extremely protective of me. We were almost found out.

"Babe?" he murmured sleepily, reaching for me.

"Birkhoff," I was shaking from the dream I had just encountered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, now fully awake and concerned about my well-being.

"No," I buried my head in his neck. "I had a dream in which you killed me," I sobbed as Birkhoff held me tight.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, gently stroking my hair.

"Because I left you! I would never have left you. I promise!" He held me tightly.

"Shhh. Hush babe," he rocked me back and forth.

"You know me . . .I would never . . ." I whimpered calming down greatly.

"I do know you. And I know that you would leave me. You've done it before." Seymour Birkhoff pinned me to the bed. I struggled against him. "And now you're going to pay." He promised a more crazed than usual look in his eyes.

"BIRKHOFF!" I screamed.