Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story, except I guess Nikita's mother and the terrorists. I'm really tired so that's all you're going to get out of me.
Author's Note: This makes a few references to the episode "Cat and Mouse", as well as my 'Contamination Trilogy'. The words in the '~'s are characters' thoughts. The only reason this is a two part story is because I couldn't fit all the text in one document ot upload.
Like Mother, Like Daughter- Part I
by Mara
Unlike other operatives, who rarely thought of their lives before Section, all Nikita DID was think about it. The thing she missed most were her family, her parents. Her father had died when she was little and her mother had remarried. They had disappeared when she was a teenager, but she never knew what exactly had happened to them. Nikita just assumed that they were dead. Her mother was a lot like her, warm and kind, but also realistic and strong. ~She would have made a great operative.~
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It was a beautiful Spring day. The air was warm, but not overly hot. For June it was a little nicer than usual, but Nikita didn't mind. She was walking down the street, looking into store windows for anything interesting. After over an hour of the same, she decided to look in one more shop, and if she didn't find anything, she was going to go home. It was early evening and she was starting to get hungry. Stopping at a cafe a few minutes from her apartment, Nikita decided to skip her usual and instead ordered chicken Parmesana with steamed vegetables. That had been her mother's favorite meal. For some reason, Nikita was thinking about her mother a lot recently. She thought it might have something to do with the feeling she had that something was wrong.
After finishing her meal, Nikita briskly walked the fifteen-minutes to get to Section. Crossing the courtyard, she came up right behind Birkoff. He must have been completely absorbed in thought that he didn't hear her coming or her heels clicking against the tile.
"Birkoff?" Nikita's voice was soft, not wanting to startle him. His first reply was a quiet scream. She smiled a little. "Sorry, did I scare you?" Nikita tried to sound innocent, but couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.
Trying to regain his manhood, Birkoff denied it. "No. Not at all. I'm just a little...jumpy, that's all." He just stared at her for a moment, remembering what it had been like to be with her...sort of. Not too long ago, Nikita had been captured on a mission and replaced by someone who looked exactly like her, down to the last birthmark. The only thing was, no one knew it. Eventually, Michael figured it out, but only after Abby, Nikita's double, had slept with Birkoff. Ever since, he had been in love with Nikita. Most people could tell, but he liked to pretend that it was a secret.
"Could you do something for me?" She tried to make this easy for him. Nikita knew he had feelings for her after Abby, but she didn't know what to do about them.
He answered quickly. "Anything" Once again, he tried to save his pride. "...I mean, sure. What do you need?"
"I was wondering if you could run a search on Elizabeth Crandal."
"Sure, no problem." Leaning over, her right hand on the desk next to Birkoff's computer, the other resting on her hip, Nikita turned her head to look at Walter. She smiled at him from across the room, saying hello. Birkoff typed in the name and was hitting enter, just as Nikita turned her attention back to the screen.
"Oh, wait, she wouldn't be in Section's files..." Her voice trailed off as a picture of her mother came up with a long list of data. "Oh, God. No." Nikita shook her head slightly and a few strands of her hair fell in Birkoff's face. Being so close to her was definitely turning him on, but she didn't seem to notice. "No." Spinning his chair around to face Nikita, he found himself at eye level with her breasts. Pushing the thoughts that arose to the back of his mind, he immediately became concerned for her.
"Nikita? Are you all right? Talk to me. Please." His voice grew desperate. Nikita just stared at the computer screen, her eyes wide, brimming with tears. She looked pale. "Nikita? I'm going to take you home. Do you want me to take you home?" No reply. Standing up, Birkoff's face brushed against her chest and his earlier thoughts came back.
Taking her arm, he pulled her along beside him. Once he got her outside, with fresh air, Nikita seemed to regain a little bit of herself. She swallowed the emotion choking her throat and tears streamed down her face, but she didn't say a word. Her eyes stared straight ahead of her, unseeing, yet so full of pain. Birkoff's heart ached, knowing that she was hurting so much inside.
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Though he was smaller than she, Birkoff had no trouble lifting Nikita. By the time they had reached her apartment, Nikita was breathing normally, but her mind was still gone. All the way there, Birkoff asked her questions, but never got any responses. Inside the apartment, which Birkoff remembered well enough from when she had still been under surveillance, he tried to get her to climb the stairs, but she didn't seem to be able to.
"Okay, Nikita, don't slap me for anything that I'm about to do." His words were joking but he was really scared. Birkoff had seen operatives have nervous breakdown before, but Nikita is that last person he ever expected this from. Squatting down a little, he picked her up, as though she had twisted an ankle and couldn't walk. Slowly, not wanting to fall and hurt her, Birkoff carried Nikita up the stairs to her bedroom. Once inside, he set her down on her feet but didn't completely let go, wanting to make sure she could stand on her own. When he saw that she could, he just looked around awkwardly, a little embarrassed at being in this position. "Okay, I am a grown man. It's not like I haven't seen any of this before." Birkoff's nervous chatter did nothing to bring Nikita out of her shock.
Going over to the dresser, Birkoff pulled out the bottom drawer and looked to see if there were any sort of pajamas. Finding only lacy bras and panties, he closed it and opened the top drawer. There he found shirts. ~Doesn't she own anything that isn't tight with little spaghetti straps?~ His thoughts were more out of nervousness than irritation. Quickly grabbing a white shirt, he shut the drawer and pulled out the middle one. There he found a variety of pants and shorts. Absently taking out a pair of thin, blue an white plaid pants, he watched Nikita cry. Shaking himself from his obsession, Birkoff slammed the drawer shut in a futile effort to bring her back to reality.
"Nikita, please wake up. I won't know what's wrong with you unless you tell me." He said this even as he removed her jacket and tossed it on the bed. "Come back, Nikita. God, what's wrong with her? Okay, here goes nothing." Pulling her shirt over her head, Nikita's arms lifted, complying with Birkoff's actions, but her expression never changed. He quickly removed her bra and threw it on top of her shirt and jacket. Picking up the white shirt he had gotten from her dresser, Birkoff slipped it on. "Now THIS might be a little more difficult to accomplish. Nikita, are you sure you won't come back to me?"
"Mommy." Nikita's voice was quiet, She sounded like a lost little girl, crying for her mother.
Birkoff immediately removed his hands from her skirt and looked into her eyes. "Nikita? Are you there?" He only saw more pain and fear than before. ~That's the first thing she's said since she asked me to run that check for her. What is it about that op that made her react like this? I'm going to find out. I have to figure out what's going on with her.~ He decided to give it one more try before removing the rest of her clothes. "Nikita, are you there?" Again, there was no answer. "Okay, I guess not." Unfastening the clasp on her skirt, Birkoff unzipped it and let it fall to the floor. "God, I wish you were letting me do this under different circumstances..." Bending down, he grabbed one leg and lifted it up, setting it down a few inches away. He did the same with the other leg until he could pick up her skirt and set it with her other clothes. Reaching for the blue and white pants, Birkoff knelt on the floor. "Nikita, can you lift your leg for me?" She did and he slipped one leg of the pajamas pants over one of HER legs and told her to set her foot back on the ground. "Nikita, can you lift your other leg for me?" Again, she obeyed him and again, he put her leg into the pajamas. "You can set it down now, Nikita." Pulling the pants up to her waist and loosely tied the drawstring, then proceeded to lead her to her bed. ~If I were a different kind of guy, this would be so perfect.~
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It had been a long night. Birkoff had sat in a chair by Nikita's bed for the last seven hours. Sometime in those seven hours, she had fallen asleep, and so had he. When he woke up, he found his head resting on the bed, next to her stomach. Standing up quickly, Birkoff leaned over Nikita and shook her, wondering if she was past her trauma. Her screaming was his answer. Her eyes were still closed and her words made no sense, so Birkoff assumed she was still asleep.
"Daddy, no! Don't leave me! Don't leave me! No!!!!!" The last 'no' was high and shrill, as though coming from a young child who didn't get her way and was in the midst of a tantrum. Nikita began to thrash about, tossing and turning until she touched Birkoff's skin. Feeling the warm flesh, she seized his arm and pulled him on top of her. She quieted for a moment, but when he struggled to get up, the screaming began again. "No, Daddy, please don't leave me. You can't leave me!"
"Oh, God, she thinks I'm her father. Nikita! Nikita, wake up!" When he realized that wasn't working, Birkoff decided to try another tactic. Becoming very still, he whispered to her. "Nikita? Let Daddy sit here, next to you. Can you let me do that?"
"Daddy, where's Mommy. Don't leave until she gets here."
"I promise, I won't leave. I'll sit right here next to you." Nikita let go and began to tremble. Birkoff walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up next to her. Keeping himself at least a few inches away, he reached over and took her left hand.
"Oh, Daddy. Please don't ever go away again." She seemed a little more calm, but there were tear streaks on her face and wet spots on her pillow. Nikita took Birkoff's hand in her own and drew it to her face. She rubbed her cheek against it softly. She couldn't imagine what this was doing to him physically.
"Nikita, I won't leave you. I promise. I'll stay as long as you want me to." The phone rang, but it wasn't Birkoff's, it was Nikita's. Her cell phone was in her jacket pocket, at the foot of the bed. Leaning forward to reach it, Birkoff realized that it was jut out of his grasp. Pulling away from Nikita, he grabbed the phone, just as she started to scream again. He flipped up the top. "Help. It's Birkoff. I'm in Nikita's apartment. There's something wrong with her-" The line clicked dead. He hoped that someone was coming. Nikita was still wailing at the top of her lungs. Sitting back against the wooden headboard, Birkoff gave her his hand once more and tried to wait patiently. Six minutes later, Michael and four other ops burst into Nikita's apartment. The noise scared her and she began to cling to Birkoff, pulling herself closer to him, burying her face in his chest.
"No, Daddy, don't let them take me! No!!!!!" Again, she sounded shrill and childish. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs and within seconds, Michael appeared in the doorway. The look in his face was one of jealousy, not concern. He obviously didn't understand what was going on.
"Shhh, Nikita, these are my friends. Shhh. Calm down, honey." Turning to Michael Birkoff gave him a pleading look. "Please, Michael, this ISN'T what it looks like. There's something wrong with her." Glancing at the clock on Nikita's beside table, which read 1:26, Birkoff started his explanation. "Yesterday evening, Nikita came in. She wanted me to get an operative's profile for her. When it came up, she froze. Her eyes were glazed over, she didn't say anything, she didn't even move. So I brought her back here and got her into bed- no, what I mean is that I put her in the bed and sat in that chair." Birkoff pointed with his left index finger to the chair on the other side of the bed. "Then, about ten minutes ago, she woke up. She was having a nightmare I guess. She wouldn't stop screaming for her mother, and then she started swinging her arms everywhere and kicking her feet. When her hand hit my arm, she grabbed it and pulled me to her, calling me her father, begging for me not to leave her. She let go of me, only because I told her I was going to walk around to the other side of the bed- that I wasn't going to leave her. Then the phone rang, and when I reached to get it, I had to pull away from her, and she started screaming again." Birkoff looked to Michael, hoping Michael believed him.
"She was screaming for her mother? Are you sure?" Michael wanted to be sure that's what Birkoff had said.
"Believe me, I'm sure. Just help me!"
"Who's profile did you pull up?" Birkoff looked at him like he was insane.
"Does it matter?! Look at her! There's something seriously wrong with her!" Taking a deep breath, Birkoff answered Michael. "All right, I think it was Elizabeth Crandal. When I typed it in, Nikita started to say that she wouldn't be in Section's files, and when it came up, she turned into...well, this!"
~She knows. She knows what happened to her mother. Oh, God, how are we going to fix this?~
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Nikita was moved to a hospital room inside Section. There, Birkoff continued to sit with her. Whenever he tried to leave, she went ballistic. Finally, it got to the point where he had to go to the bathroom, BADLY.
"Nikita? Daddy has to go to the bathroom. Is that okay?"
"No, Daddy, please don't leave me." Standing just outside the clear plastic window between the hospital room and the rest of Section were Operations and Michael.
Turning to Operations, Birkoff asked for advice. "What do I do?"
"Go. She can't keep up the screaming for long." Operations hadn't heard Nikita scream before. Not like she did when Birkoff pulled his hand from hers. As soon as he let go of her, Birkoff sprinted from the room, trying to get back as soon as possible. The windows were thick, but not soundproof.
She heard the screaming in her office. Rising quickly from her chair, Madeline rushed toward the source, covering her ears as soon as she had left her office. Coming up to Operations and Michael, she saw that they, too, had placed their hands over their ears.
"What are you going to do about her?!" Madeline had to yell as loud as she could to be heard above Nikita's crying. Turning to look at the young woman, she saw tears flowing down Nikita's face.
"I don't know what we CAN do! Michael, go in there and hold her hand! See if that does any good!" Michael followed orders and entered Nikita's room. Approaching her, he thought his eardrums would burst. Quickly, he grabbed her hand, wanting her to be quiet. By holding her hand, the screams got quieter, but didn't go away. Birkoff walked in, rushed to her, and she stopped screaming completely. She just continues to cry and tell Birkoff how much she loved him and that she didn't want him to go away. Where was her mother?
"Nikita, your mother is coming. She'll be here soon. She loves you very much."
Operations had an idea. "Madeline..."
"Do you want me to go in there and pretend to be her mother?"
"It couldn't hurt. It might calm her further. We could give it a try."
"If you think it's best." Madeline calmly walked into the hospital room and stood next to Nikita, on the side opposite Birkoff. "Nikita?" She gently touched Nikita's lower arm.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Birkoff's warning came seconds too late.
"Mommy?" Nikita's face brightened. She grabbed Madeline's hand held it close to her heart. "Oh, Mommy, I knew you'd come! I knew you wouldn't leave me!" Pulling Madeline to her, Nikita hugged the woman, never letting go of Birkoff's hand. Tears of happiness replaced tears of fear streaming from Nikita's eyes. "I knew that they couldn't take you away from me! Oh, Mommy, they're bad, bad people. Don't let them take you!"
"What's she talking about?" Birkoff looked at Madeline accusingly. When she ignored his question, he turned to Operations and Michael. "What's she talking about?! You know more than you're telling me, don't you? What's going on here? Is Elizabeth Crandal her mother?" Birkoff had managed to piece the puzzle together at last. When they, too, refused to answer him, Birkoff began interrogating them. "That's it, isn't it? Nikita wanted to find out what had become of her mother, but she didn't know that her mother had been taken by Section! That's it!"
"Birkoff, I'm warning you. For your own good, stay out of this." Madeline's words were soft, as though she were truly worried about something other than Section One.