Hey everyone!

Can I just say how AWESOME you all are? I cannot even find the right words to express my thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. It was totally overwhelming to see all of your responses. I think my heart just expanded in my chest. Really!

Not to mention that Nikita is back on… So, yeah… Whirlwind of emotions. ;)

Oh wait! Before we move on, I want to clarify to all that this story starts off right where 2x08 ended. So the events in 2x09 and onwards, didn't happen. Which also means that Oversight, Division, Gogol… yeah, still there. They'll be in here somewhere – oops! I'll stop there. Don't want to spoil everyone. Haha.

Well, anyway, here we go!

The next chapter, my friends! Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Answers

"Is there a complication?"

"Yes… A little one." – 2x05

Nikita could feel Michael's gaze boring into her.

But she ignored him as she picked up the young girl running towards her, loose brown curls bouncing along the way.

"Hey, baby," Nikita smiled, and kissed the girl's forehead. Turning around so as not to see Michael's expression, she carried the child near the window. Smoothing the young girl's hair away from her pretty face, Nikita asked, "How was your afternoon out?"

The young girl cupped her hands around her mother's ear and whispered, still rather loudly, "Auntie Lex bought me ice cream!"

Nikita chuckled, "Oh, did she?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"What flavor?"

"Chocolate!"

"Nice! Did you say 'thank you'?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"That's my girl."

"Mommy," the child whispered again, peering over her mother's head, "who is that?"

A lump formed in Nikita's throat. She swallowed it down but with a bit of difficulty.

"Oh, he's a…" Glancing over her shoulder towards Michael, Nikita sighed. Shifting the child's weight on her other arm, she gazed into the girl's bright eyes. "… a friend."

Nikita was silently thankful that the child was still too young to comprehend her mother's uncomfortableness.

The little girl blinked and then curiously gazed back to the unfamiliar man standing in the middle of the living room. There was a wondering glint in her bright eyes as she tilted her head to the side to get a better look.

But, no longer wanting to prolong the inevitable, Nikita took in a cleansing breath before turning around and walked over to Michael. Glancing over to Owen and Alex, who both took an involuntary step closer to show their support, she just smiled and shook her head lightly. She could handle this.

Or, so she hopes.

"Michael," Nikita said when they were in front of him, her voice surprisingly steady. Michael transferred his gaze from the child in her arms to her, shock and confusion still evident in his eyes. Nikita introduced, "This is Liane. Though she prefers being called Ilya… M-My daughter."

All these years and Nikita's heart still gave a proud little somersault whenever she said that.

Looking at Ilya, she said "Pumpkin, meet… Michael."

Nikita could only watch as her daughter smiled and said 'hi' to the man standing in front of them.

At their proximity, Nikita was certain Michael had a clear view of – and was undoubtedly assessing – the young girl's features. Though she had much lighter sun-kissed skin, she captured a lot of her mother's angelic face along with the high cheekbones and full lips.

Except for the eyes.

Thickly framed with long lashes were almond-shaped, mischievous, piercing green eyes.

Just like his eyes.

She saw the suspicion dawn over Michael's face.

It formed a knot in her stomach.

"Hey, Ilya, baby," Nikita quickly said, pulling her daughter's attention back to her. "Can you do Mommy a favor?"

"Mm-hmm," the child nodded.

"Why don't you go wash up with Auntie Lex?" Nikita said, setting her daughter on her feet while she crouched down to be level with her. She winked, "I'll be with you in a bit. Mommy has to finish something."

"M'kay," Ilya responded. Before skipping off towards Alex, she glanced up to Michael and said, "Bye."

Nikita watched as the pair disappeared into the hallway. For a few more seconds, Owen was rooted in his place, uncertain if he should stay or not. It wasn't until Nikita gave him a reassuring nod that prompted him to leave after sending an encouraging half-smile her way.

Once she was sure that everyone was out of earshot, Nikita let out an audible breath and stood up. Crossing her arms across her abdomen, she gazed up to Michael, who still looked flabbergasted, and told him, "Go ahead. Ask."

Michael looked at Nikita like he wasn't sure what she just said.

Uncomfortable silence settled in between them again.

Holding her steady gaze after a few moments, he finally inquired, "How old is she?"

"Four. Turning five this coming Saturday."

"Is she…?" Michael trailed off, finding it hard to complete the sentence.

But Nikita knew what he wanted to ask. Glancing out the window, she set her gaze on the sliver of orange sun that was now visible against the distant horizon.

There it was, the question she had dreaded the moment she saw Michael.

No, a small voice in her head said.

But, after all these years, she had to do at least one right thing. The truth will set her free.

It's not worth it.

But it's not like she could deny the resemblance.

No.

But it's Michael.

Nikita chewed on her lower lip.

No.

Turning back to face him, she clenched her fists to brace herself.

Silently, she gave a small nod.

Various emotions ran through Michael at that moment. There was a look of joy and excitement, a gleam in his eyes, and a smile that briefly passed Michael's face; painfully reminding Nikita of the same expression he had years ago when he asked her if she was pregnant. She may have said no back then but neither of them knew that it was the wrong answer at that time.

But then his expression changed into something akin to anger, hurt, and betrayal as he realized that she had kept this from him. He took a step back away from her, all those emotions in his eyes as he looked at her.

All these years and he never knew he had another child – a daughter.

A daughter who didn't know he was her father.

The look on Michael's face was making Nikita's throat start to constrict.

"How –?"

"I think you know how babies are made."

"No," Michael shook his head, "I meant, when –?"

"Do you honestly think I kept track on how many times we had…" Nikita snapped defensively, her brown eyes flashing menacingly. Looking away, she took another deep breath to calm her self down. Her throat was getting unbearably scratchy. Dropping her gaze to the floor for a few seconds, she continued, "Definitely before Belarus. My guess, right here on this island."

Michael's eyebrows knitted, "But when I asked you if you were pregnant –"

"I didn't know. Yet. Because I wasn't exhibiting any of the usual symptoms."

"So when did you know?"

Nikita's lips formed into a hard line before answering, "3 weeks after London."

He looked lost. "How far along were you back then?"

"Around 2 months."

"So at that time… Belarus, Division, Ryan, London – you already were –?"

Her reply was a curt, "Yes."

"Nikita," Michael said, taking a step towards her. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, "why didn't you call me when you knew?"

The question hit a very sore nerve.

With the sudden rush of anger getting the best of her, Nikita brushed Michael's hand away and stepped back. Looking up to him, her voice was tense as she lashed, "And tell you what? That I was pregnant and things around me were spiraling out of control? That I didn't know the first thing on how to be a mother? Or that I had been so scared that Division or Gogol would find out about me? Or that I've never been so vulnerable and so lost and I needed you so much?"

"Nikita–"

"It doesn't really matter anymore, Michael." Her voice broke. "Everything's done."

Knowing she couldn't carry on with this conversation any longer, Nikita turned away and left the living room without another word and before any tear fell. She was already by the stairs when she heard Birkhoff announce his arrival and that dinner would be ready in 5 minutes.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Nikita leaned on the nearest wall and slid to the floor. Hot tears were falling down her cheeks and she closed her eyes tightly to try to control them. But they still came as her heart twisted in her chest and soon, she was silently gasping for air. She was becoming frustrated with herself for being so vulnerable when it came to Michael.

In her mind's eye, Nikita recalled everything as if they only happened this morning. How she was a wreck and broke down in Birkhoff's hesitant and uncertain arms the moment he picked her up at the airport from London, how she mumbled incoherent phrases of 'he's gone' and 'he's never coming back', how she spent days and days holed up in her room crying herself to sleep so that she wouldn't need to feel the pain, or of how angry she felt that she threw anything she could get her hands on…

It wasn't until Alex and Owen had arrived from God-knows-where that she had started to venture out of her room again. It wasn't until Birkhoff thrust a box of pregnancy tests in her hands while bluntly saying that she was suspiciously getting bigger even though she wasn't eating more than 3 spoonfuls of food everyday. It wasn't until she saw the positive pregnancy test that she decided she had to pick herself up again. And she's been picking her broken self up ever since.

Everything's done.

But wait, the small voice in her head echoed, she's forgetting the irony of everything that's happened today; Michael had arrived a day after Father's Day.

Nikita sighed a bitter laugh.

Thinking it was better to leave before someone else found her there, Nikita stood up and padded down the carpeted hallway.

Making her way to Ilya's room, Nikita instantly calmed down when she saw her daughter come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head as she had just finished with her bath. Nikita bent down and smiled as she unraveled the towel and rubbed Ilya's hair dry with it. She almost smiled, amazed on how much calming effect her daughter had on her.

A miracle, she really was.

Nikita let out a small chuckle when she saw Alex exit the same bathroom minutes later with the upper-half of her body drenched. There was even a foam of soapsuds on the top of her head.

"Ilya definitely needs to be enrolled in a swimming class," Alex commented, reaching for a dry towel from the cabinet just outside the bathroom. She was careful not to drip a lot of water on the plush amber carpet, "She just enjoys the water too much."

Nikita laughed lightly. "Of course she does. Especially when it's bubble baths almost every other night, isn't that right, pumpkin?"

Ilya giggled and nodded.

"Why don't you go and dry off. I'll finish up in here," Nikita told Alex. "Dinner's ready."

Alex nodded. She placed a hand on Nikita's shoulder as she passed and asked softly, "You okay? You look stressed."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Nikita gave a rueful smile. "But I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I can handle it. Thanks."

"You know we're all here for you."

"I know. And thank you."

With that, Alex left.

A few minutes later, they were all in the dining room eating the food Birkhoff brought. The whole dinner was a bit uncomfortable with Michael there. Or at least, that's how Nikita felt. He sat across from her in the round table so there were times when she had no choice but to look at him. They'd exchange discomforting glances before looking away from each other.

Without Ilya, who was a very talkative 4-year-old, the whole affair would've been a silent one. Save for the few random questions Alex, Owen or Birkhoff would ask Michael, and vice versa – a futile attempt to make the dinner less awkward than it already was. But Nikita was lost in her own thoughts to really bother. Usually, she would be listening to her daughter, all amused and enraptured, but tonight, there were just too many things going on in her head that made it hard for her to focus.

After dinner, Ilya yawned and looked like her eyelids were getting heavier by the second, so Nikita picked her up and brought her to her room. Along the way, she teased her daughter how she was such a sleepyhead. So while being tucked into her bed (after a sloppy battle with the toothbrush), the young girl protested feebly that she wasn't tired yet and she wanted to stay up.

Nikita chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. She told Ilya, "But if you won't sleep, you wouldn't grow tall. Do you want Uncle Nerd to call you Shorty forever?"

That got her daughter to snuggle in deeper into her pillows without any more objections. Minutes later, the little girl succumbed to sleep.

Pushing a few strands of brown hair away from Ilya's face, Nikita leaned over and kissed the child's forehead. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Michael was leaning against the doorframe watching.

Leaving quietly and gently, Nikita pulled the bedroom door silently to a close behind her.

Michael, who went to stand on the other side of the wide hallway, said, "We have to talk."

Well, how'dya all think?

Okay, I know Ilya is a boy's name. But then, so is Nikita. Originally, that is. Well, anyway! There's a reason for that - why she's Liane/Ilya. Next chapter! Oh, and how do you like the name, by the way? :D

So, review, okay? I love reading your thoughts.

Hope this update didn't disappoint. ;)

Till next chapter then.

- Dani