Freedom
DISCLAIMER: All the characters and the Section don't belong to me, but to the PTB.
A/N: Feedback would gratefully be accepted. Cookies will do even better and might get my lazy ass to work on longer fic. (PS: My muses like chocolate milk too. They prefer it warm. Thank you)
Nikita looked at the small datapad when it chirped and read the message quickly. It was Michael, asking her if she was there.
Her mind struggled for a moment. Should she respond and let him know she made it out, thereby having the possibility the Section might find out. Should she ignore the message, leaving him in the dark? Should she let him think she hadn't made it out alive?
Looking at the full moon, memories from the last few days ran through her head. Michael and her dancing, her failure, as Section called it, to complete her mission to kill a person just because she couldn't get him out safely. Her last conversation with Madeline, telling the older woman she couldn't do it anymore.
Putting a gun to her head, ready to end her life. Thinking it was the only possible way out of Section.
More memories rushed through her, memories of her days in Section, memories of Michael...
Nikita closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she glanced at the message again, before shutting it down.
Finally, she felt some sort of freedom again. Section was behind her and had no knowledge of her being still alive.
She would miss Birkoff and Walter, she was sure of that. They were her closest friends inside the Section. She wasn't sure about Michael.
'I have never been sure about Michael...' she thought.
Sighing, she decided she'd better not think about her past life again. She wouldn't think about the bad things or the good things.
It was over, she was free to live her own life now.
If only she knew where to go to.
Reaching in her pockets, she counted the money she had with her when she left for the mission. It wasn't much, but enough to buy food for a few days. She knew how to survive on the streets, but this time she was going to get a job. Then, when she had money, she could rent a small place for herself.
Looking out the window, Nikita saw the train was approaching the next station and she decided she should get out, take another train in a different direction and see where that would lead her.
Smiling, she pocketed her gun, picked up the few things she had and walked to the doors towards the platform...
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