The Mission

"Scan the perimeter," Nikita instructed.

"Hold for scanning," returned a member of the Argos Squadron over the Comm-Unit.

A digital line tracked the satellite scanner's progression in the above monitors as it passed over the quiet terrain, flowing over buildings and inspecting parked vehicles along the area's side streets. Once the scan was completed, several red dots appeared on the screen, indicating detected bodies roaming about the targeted building. Their movement pattern alerted them to be guards as they tracked back and forth in predetermined marches, each zoning their assigned areas. Nikita drew in a breath, studying the monitors and recalculating her original plan of approach. She bent forward and began typing in a command into the computer. A moment later, another satellite came online and started showing a real-time image of what was going on.

"Matthews, take three and go right at block two. You'll need to make a rear approach to avoid being seen. There are guards right in front of you."

"Copy that," said Matthews.

Nikita watched as the team leader instructed three men to sweep to the rear of the building and take their positions. Meanwhile, the remaining men separated into their practiced formations and advanced towards the building with their rifles made ready to fire.

"Have they passed the first checkpoint?" Michael stepped into Communications.

"Just did." Nikita watched as the team continued to make a slow advance through the streets to the building ahead. "Just sent three to round towards the back to cover egress and catch anyone trying to escape from the rear."

Michael crossed his arms and looked at the screens, studying the movements of the team. He was dressed in his typical funerary black suit, mock turtleneck, and comfortable loafers. His dark hair maintained its voluminous appearance and added slivers of silver rippling through the deep, shortened waves. His wild beard was groomed, giving his already tranquil face a more prominent presence that both spoke of his wisdom and his indomitable control.

Standing next to him, Nikita appeared as his female counterpart, wearing much the same ensemble with a slight feminine flair. Her blonde hair was grown out to her shoulders and kept in a neat bob haircut parted down the center. She kept her severe black eyeliner rimming her piercing glacial eyes and favored a soft petal pink lip gloss instead of the harsh blood-red lip stain she used to wear.

Trent sat at the bank of monitors, quickly working through the data being streamed from satellite surveillance and feeding in from Ground Control. He decided to abandon his black horn-rimmed glasses for transition colored contact lenses changing his natural dark brown eyes hazel in low lighting and gray in brighter conditions. Inside of the Communications Hub, his eyes carried a purplish-gray appearance as the lenses worked to filter the blue light from the monitor screens. He peeled out of his black sports coat, revealing a black Ruff Ryders logo tour tee over distressed dark denim. He was not entirely in line with Section's dress code, but he was put together enough for his attire to not come into question. The only person that seemed to care anything about his personal appearance was Quinn. She made it clear that she felt all of Section should be suit and tie no matter one's station.

"You can wear the suit," Trent said with a sly grin during the morning meeting. "I'll wear my Jordans if you don't mind."

Quinn turned on her heels and retreated from Trent's desk with her panel clutched to her breasts. Trent grinned again and returned to his work.

That afternoon, it no longer mattered what anyone was wearing. All eyes were on the monitors as the Argos team attempted to ensnare Al Amin once again at a location he was rumored to be in. The intel collected from the field team was varied and unreliable, but Nikita sent in a crew anyway. Trent chewed a toothpick as he monitored the screens, adjusting for clarity over the communication lines and streamed data.

"Moving in. Approaching PNR," Matthews reported.

"Maintain formation," Nikita instructed. "Watch your flank."

Michael narrowed his eyes, seeing something on the monitors that made him focus intently upon it. He stepped forward, studying the satellite bio-scan view, then pointed at a grouping of dots.

"Where is this?"

"Building next door," said Trent.

"Is Matthews aware of them?"

"He doesn't need to be," said Nikita. "It has nothing to do with our target."

"They could be a threat to the mission. There's eleven of them in a room strategically across from the target's location in the next building. These could be sentinels."

"Or just a family in a room in the next building," said Nikita.

Michael turned directly to Nikita and stepped towards her.

"You and I both know the likelihood that those men are hostiles is very probable. You should have the men pull to the sides and not make a direct approach."

"If they move to the sides now, the team will be split and will not be as effective should they come under fire."

"They would only be split for a short moment. They can converge just before reaching the second level and proceed."

"But by then, they would have lost the element of surprise," Nikita countered.

"If they take a forward approach, they are as good as exposed. The team will be eliminated by the strike team in the next building."

"We don't know that, Michael. Our intel doesn't support that theory."

"I know what the intel says," said Michael, stepping closer. "What does your gut say? Look at that screen and tell me with certainty that isn't a death squad set up across from your target's position."

Nikita glared at Michael a moment before turning her attention to the screen showing the cluster of red dots grouped together in the adjacent building. The dots began to move, meandering through the room with no real meaning for their actions. The men were stationed to see all about their building, and three entry points to the adjacent building.

"Approaching the eastern quarter of the building," Matthews stated. "Awaiting your Go."

The room fell silent as Nikita studied the screens. She saw where Matthews' team was positioned. She saw the guards in the building, the guards pacing the front, and a group of men moving inside the building, protecting a man presently sitting with others in a large open room on the building's second floor. Michael moved slowly behind her, looking at the monitors as well. Trent looked up at Nikita.

"What's the move, boss?" asked Trent.

Nikita stared long at the monitors and bit down on her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. She turned to Trent.

"Abort…"

"What?" Trent looked shocked.

"I said abort the mission. It's too risky. There are too many men. We will lose the objective and our men."

"Are you sure?" asked Trent, still not believing what he was hearing.

"Yes. Tell Matthews to pull back. We will have to figure another way to grab Al Amin."

"Okay…" Trent returned to the Communications Hub and gave the order to abort the mission.

There was a flurry of questions and requests for clarity from both Matthews and Ground Control, followed by a few explicative words that made Trent bristle a little. He attempted to explain the reason behind the order. Still, it was useless and only met with more argument from the Ground Controller whom he could hear throwing his panel across the Transport van. Michael stood watching as the team receded back from the building and made their way to the van. Nikita braced herself against the back of a chair and hung her head in both exasperation and distress.

"They're out," Trent reported.

"Good. Let Matthews know I will take his report in the morning. We will regroup and try again. I'll be at The Perch."

"Aye, aye captain," said Trent with a mock salute.

Nikita turned and walked out of Communications.

"Nikita…"

Nikita stopped and turned to see Michael following after her with a very determined look on his face. She waited as he stood before her and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"What is it?"

Michael thought a moment before answering.

"Are you okay?"

"Why?"

"You seemed stressed."

"Considering we just blew another mission and lost an important objective, I think I am well within my right to be a little perturbed."

"You do understand why right?" Michael leveled his gaze with Nikita.

"Yes. The building next door had unidentified personnel that could have very well compromised the mission. It was only prudent to act with caution."

"You have to analyze all angles," said Michael. "Not just the visible ones. You have to consider the hidden ones as well…and prepare for them."

"See with eyes I don't have," Nikita nodded. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I plan another mission. Thanks."

Nikita turned on her heels to leave.

"Nikita... I'm only trying to help."

Nikita stopped and let out a small chuckle. "Help. I seem to be getting a lot of that these days."

Michael moved a little closer, his expression hinging on concern and sympathy. Nikita turned to him and returned a stern look.

"I'm trying to look out for you…To support you," said Michael.

"And yet you keep pushing in on every mission I put together and point out in front of everyone where my mistakes are."

"If I didn't want you to be successful, I wouldn't tell you where you misjudged."

"You'd let me fail," Nikita completed. "So your constant undermining is your way of saving me from failure?"

"I'm not undermining you, Nikita. I'm just showing you a better way."

Nikita flared at this and took a bold step forward, placing her hands on her hips.

"A better way?" she hissed. "Or your way."

Michael, unmoved by her fierce gaze, stared back into her deeply, matching her ferocity with a suppressed danger of his own.

"If I hadn't intervened, your entire team would be dead right now."

"Why don't you just say what it is that you really want, huh? Spit it out so that it can be out in the open and not hiding behind your words."

Michael relaxed back on his heels and crossed his arms.

"Hmph," Nikita took a step back to fully consider Michael. "The blank stare again. I don't know if it's the words you say or don't say that make me question everything about you."

"If you don't trust me, Nikita, then maybe I shouldn't be here."

"If you weren't here, you'd be dead by now," Nikita said coldly.

Michael flinched as if pricked, then regained himself. He regarded Nikita's temperament a moment more before turning and walking towards his office in apparent retreat. Nikita smirked before going to her own office to quietly lick at her own wounds.

Quinn walked briskly towards Command, hoping that she was not too late to catch Nikita before she left for the Council briefing meeting. Already, she could see the Communications Hub buzzing with activity as another mission began with Tactical Lead Erwin Stiles supervising and Ansley Parker managing the intel. Since Nikita's takeover, tasks were no longer run by the same personnel each and every time. They were separated out into major and minor objectives. The primary objectives were almost always handled by either Nikita or Michael, with either Trent or Quinn managing the data links, while minor objectives were carried out by various other Level 5 operatives and technicians.

It was a welcoming change from the old regime, giving many other operatives additional training in other areas instead of relegating them to just the field or Systems. It was one of the many changes that nearly all of Section One agreed with and were happy to indoctrinate their regular routines. Quinn was especially grateful since it meant that she no longer needed to be concerned for every mission. She could concentrate on the more prioritized objectives. At the moment, however, the one task that she was most focused on had taken up any spare time she might have had otherwise. Both she and Michael, along with the rest of their team, worked tirelessly to figure out a way to trap one of Hezbollah's top generals. The old cleric slipped their grasp with every attempt, giving Nikita little to no confidence in ever having come close to capturing him at all.

Quinn climbed the steps into Command, taking the time to gather herself before entering. From the large window on the main floor, she spied Nikita moving about, speaking on her Comm Unit and looking more than a little stressed. The missions were coming at Section One more frequently than they had the manpower to keep up. Yet, Nikita refused to turn any of the assignments down. Quinn questioned the reasons why Nikita loaded so many missions. She suspected either Nikita wanted to prove that Section One was just as good as it had been in the past or that she was trying to avoid going home.

Quinn suspected it was a bit of both.

Nikita did not really want to face the reality of telling both her daughter and Michael the hidden truth of their connection. In their last mission together, she thought she saw Nikita sign something to Michael. It looked like she was telling him about Lizzie, that she was his daughter and that Nikita wanted him to take care of her should she die.

Quinn watched the playbacks of the mission and deciphered that Nikita told Michael that she wanted him to look after Lizzie for her. It was clear that Michael did not understand what she was saying because he ignored her and continued with his own strategy. Even though it would have been better to leave Misha Pavlovsky alive to save Nikita's life, Michael decided to take the bullet to kill Misha. He had said that he would shoot Nikita, but it was clear that he would never shoot her. His plan was to draw away Misha's aim from Nikita to gain a better shot at Misha. Nikita was already in perilous shape when he rescued her, having gone without her medication and treatment for several days. By the time she was brought into Medical, she could not speak and was barely conscious.

Helmut maintained composure and worked as Section's interim Director while Nikita healed. He managed the secondary missions and met with the Council, giving them enough details about Nikita's condition to keep them from launching a full investigation into Section One. With Quinn's assistance, Section One ran just as smoothly as if Nikita had never left the helm. Quinn learned much more about Helmut than her first impressions of him during those few weeks. Quinn thought of Helmut simply as Nikita's cover and Lizzie's caregiver when Nikita could not be at home to look after the little girl on her own. Working alongside him, she held a different respect for the Interpol agent. Helmut balanced his dual stations gracefully and without complaint, even in the face of hard news from Section One's medical team concerning his wife. Quinn watched as he took the news of her worsened condition and smiled through the apparent pain. He nodded his acceptance and requested the required prescriptions to begin further treatment to bring Nikita back to stable health.

"Think she'll be back the way she was?"

Trent looked over Quinn's shoulder as they peered at Nikita lying in the recovery room. She had undergone another surgery to repair lesions to several blood vessels in her brain. Although her prognosis was grim, Helmut believed Nikita would make it. He did not leave her bedside for any reason other than to care for Elizabeth or handle a Priority One case for Section. Even then, he returned often, asking for updates on his wife's condition.

"She might," said Quinn as she watched Nikita sleep. "If she doesn't…"

"They aren't going to let Helmut take over Section. You might as well get that dream and send it flying right along with all those fantasies of the two of you running off together." Trent allowed a short laugh. "It's bad enough you're pining for her husband. Now you're hoping she dies? You're cold, man. Just cold."

"I'm not wishing for her death. I want just the opposite. I want her to live. She needs to live...For her daughter."

"Yeah," Trent breathed out. "It'd be a shame for that little girl to grow up without her mom. I've seen it happen a million times over where I grew up."

"Kids in your neighborhood didn't have mothers?" Quinn gave Trent a curious look.

"Sort of," said Trent. "The mothers were there...Just..you know... weren't...Drugs, you know. Takes everything away from you. It's why I decided to get out. Do something with my life other than being a thug or a junkie. I wanted to make my life count for something."

"I had no idea you were so altruistic. So how the hell did you end up in Section?" Quinn crossed her arms.

"I was more interested in counting duckets than I was in making my life count. It was all about the Benjamins baby."

Trent smiled and moved his shoulders in a short little dance as he backed away from Quinn. She could not help but to laugh as the tall, handsome Communications Officer winked his amber and grey eye at her and disappeared down the corridor. It was a few weeks more before Nikita was healthy enough to return to work. Helmut dutifully relinquished the keys to his wife and quietly receded into obscurity while Nikita took back control.

"Honeymoon is over. Guess it's back to normal," Trent teased when Quinn showed up for work and found Nikita standing in Command and not Helmut.

Quinn gave Trent a cursory look as she made her way towards her office to begin preliminary morning briefings. She had only partially registered that Helmut was not in the building and would not be back unless summoned by Nikita for some reason. He hardly ever came visiting, especially now that Michael was back. Quinn could not put aside her thoughts on Nikita's new dilemma and the fact that she continued to delay in telling Michael the truth. He, of all people, should have known about Elizabeth and who her real father was. Even if it meant risking exposure to Section, Quinn felt Nikita should have given Michael that choice instead of making it for him. Had he known about Nikita's secret, he might not have chosen to relocate so far away. No matter what she thought of Michael, Quinn did not deny that he was a faithful father and would have done anything to stay near any child that was indeed his.

Quinn pressed the access buzzer, alerting Nikita to her presence. She heard Nikita's husky voice welcome her inside The Perch as she reviewed the latest data transfers from the Israeli Defense Forces. She looked up at Quinn, her blue eyes appearing nearly crystal within her clear square-rimmed glasses.

"Matthews' team just sent back their report from the field. I think you should take a look at it," said Quinn and handed over the panel.

Nikita studied the information on the screen, then sat it down. She blew out a long line of air, removed her glasses, and massaged the headache that had developed between her eyes at the bridge of her nose.

"Did he give any timeline as to when Al Amin might have left Lebanon?"

"He thinks he may have boarded a Red Eye early this morning about 3 a.m," said Quinn.

"Then what the hell were we chasing after this afternoon? A Ghost?"

Nikita stretched then looked out the window to the main floor. It was getting late in the evening, and much of the excitement from earlier had quieted down. Communications continued to hum, but with its natural cadence instead of a running mission's hurried pace. A defense training class was in session with Master Barnes leading the sparring match-ups. A few feet away, Michael's office door was closed with the blinds pulled shut as well. Nikita furrowed her brows, considering the closed-off office.

"Davidson believes that Al Amin's men intercepted our transmissions and discovered our plans to capture him. They planted a decoy to draw us away from where Al Amin would be to get him out of the country safely," Quinn went on.

"Do we know where he was smuggled to?" Nikita continued to stare at Michael's closed door.

"Trent is following several flight schedules now to try and narrow down possible locations."

"Good," said Nikita, finally turning away from the window. "Let's stay on top of it."

Quinn nodded. She looked out the window at Michael's office, then back towards Nikita. She watched as Nikita made her way to the opposite side of the office. Nikita began reviewing operative data profiles who were not yet completed training but were close enough to assign minor missions.

"You haven't told him, have you," Quinn began.

"Told who what?" Nikita continued scanning through profiles, selecting operatives to fast track into Ready status.

"You know who…And you know what," said Quinn.

Nikita seemed not to be listening as she continued with her work. Quinn took a step forward, braving Nikita's cold and stony back.

"So… What's the delay? Why haven't you said anything?"

"I'll tell him in my own time," said Nikita evenly. "When it's right to."

"When will it be right?"

"When we're done with this," said Nikita.

"We could be on this for months…Years even," Quinn pointed out. "You're willing to make him wait that long to find out he has a daughter?"

"I'm not willing to do anything except complete this mission," said Nikita. She turned to Quinn, her eyes blazing slightly from behind her glasses. "Quite honestly, I don't see how any of this is any of your business anyway."

"You're never going to get around to doing it, are you," said Quinn as Nikita crossed the room to another bank of monitors.

Nikita accessed a computer and began loading in a sequence for review.

"Right now, Michael is aware of what he needs to be aware of so that he can concentrate on the job at hand. We should all be arrow-focused on capturing Al Amin right now."

"And after we get him, then what? You wait until another mission of high priority loads so that you can push it off another six months? That isn't fair, Nikita!"

"Don't tell me what is fair," Nikita growled, angrily punching in a series of commands to alter the sequence slightly. "I've lived my entire life knowing just how unfair the world can be." Nikita turned to Quinn and leveled her gaze with her. "When this is over, he and I will address our daughter and give it the time and attention the situation will need to sort through it."

"And what about Helmut?"

"What about him?" Nikita put a hand on her hip.

"None of this can be very fair to him either. I mean, what is he supposed to do? Stand around and wait for you to decide which man you are going to choose?"

"Excuse me?" Nikita did not hide her offense.

"Be truthful, Nikita. The only reason why you haven't said anything yet is that you aren't sure which man you want to keep. You're riding the middle. You got one here and one at home—"

"You're way out of line," Nikita said with profound warning. "You need to be careful about what you're saying."

"Or what? You're gonna put me in the chair like Madeline? Send me out on a No Contest Mission? For all your bluster about making Section the way Adrian envisioned it, you are beginning to look more and more like the way it was."

"That is enough, Katherine," said Nikita darkly.

"You can't have it both ways, Nikita," Quinn continued brazenly. "Either you are going to tell Michael about his daughter and let him decide what to do with that, or you just let them all remain in the dark, never knowing the truth."

Nikita relaxed back on her heels and gave Quinn a menacing grin. She started towards her slowly, crossing her arms and circling Quinn until she came to a stop just behind her.

"Tell me, Quinn. What is the truth?"

From the window, Quinn saw Michael's office door open, and he emerged. He was dressed casually in a sports jacket and dark jeans, an open-collar powder blue shirt, and boots. His long coat was slung over his forearm as he made his way towards Transport.

"You're still in love with him," said Quinn as she watched Michael disappear down the hall. "You always were. As long as he doesn't know about Elizabeth, he has no reason to hate you for what you have done." Quinn turned to face Nikita. "You know that if he learns the truth, he will not forgive you. You will become Section to him, and you will lose him forever."

Nikita stared back at Quinn, matching her intensity. Quinn remained unmoved even in the face of Nikita's ferocity, of which she knew all too well could become deadly if so provoked.

"If I tell him…and he reacts the way you believe he will, how do you think this will affect Lizzie? I tell him I'll have to tell her, too. How do you think an innocent little six-year-old would fair learning that the man she believed to be her father her whole life isn't truly her father? Why would I want to crush that little girl's heart like that?"

Nikita's words pressed into Quinn with unexpected force. Quinn drew back a little, considering the collateral damage. Nikita circled around, heading back to the monitors to continue reviewing operative candidates.

"There's more at stake than just mine and Michael's relationship," said Nikita. "There's more to this than you could ever understand."

Quinn started towards the exit, feeling more weighted with new concerns than when she first entered the office. She stopped just before leaving the office and turned back towards Nikita.

"You should tell him, Nikita," Quinn said quietly. "It's the right thing to do. You should tell him and let fate decide the outcome."