Michael's office door was closed once more while a training session commenced just outside of it. Nikita watched as Master Barnes took the newly Readied status operatives through a series of effective defense moves guaranteed to disarm a frontal assault. A cadet charged at Master Barnes, intending to grab his shoulders. Master Barnes quickly sidestepped, causing the cadet to be off-balance. Master Barnes rolled the cadet over his hip and slammed him to the floor with one fluid movement. Nikita recalled the first time the move was performed on her. She could still sense the feeling of Michael's curiously soft hands grasping her wrists and pinning her as he stared down at her angered face. Michael stared back at her with intense yet beautiful eyes. She was paralyzed by his stare more than his physical restraint.
When you attack from behind, go for the kidneys…It disables, and they can't fight back…Consider that your first lesson…
There were so many more lessons she would have to learn the hard way with just as much, if not more, bruising to follow. Between Master Yoshi and Michael, combat training proved to be more brutal than the actual fights she found herself in during missions. Michael hit harder and faster than any normal man would when attacking a female. He was less forgiving when it came to the injuries sustained from such hits. Instead of showing sympathy, he told her to absorb the pain. He told her to stand to her feet and be ready for another round.
"You do realize I'm a woman, right."
Nikita reset her jaw after a vicious palm hit to the right side of her face.
"Yes. But I highly doubt that will matter much to someone who wants to kill you."
"You want to kill me?"
Nikita straightened herself and returned to a different fighting stance.
"No. I'm only making you strong enough to survive against someone that does."
Nikita saw Michael's brutality as nothing less than his loving attempt at preparing her for what was to come. Even Walter, the retired Munitions Coordinator and Nikita's long-time ally, agreed that Michael's treatment of her was unlike any he had seen from him before.
"He likes you," Walter said with a sly grin.
"Sure has a funny way of showing it."
Nikita relaxed back against Walter's workstation, ignoring his disagreeable look as he moved aside a project he was working on before she showed up. Walter considered Nikita's point of view a moment, then leaned over the tabletop, closing the distance between them.
"I've seen him be cruel to recruits. I've seen him be the worst, especially to the females he is assigned to train. He keeps his distance, doesn't get too close so that when it's time to cut things off…he just does and moves on to the next."
Nikita looked across the main floor and spied Michael walking towards Command with a panel in hand. There was an elegance to his cadence, putting to mind a dancer moving across the floor. Nikita tilted her head.
"He's got to really be messed up to be able to just cut people off after getting to know them. Be distant…Does he feel anything for anyone? Did he ever?"
"Once," said Walter, watching Michael as well.
"And?"
"And…It didn't work out."
Walter pulled himself upright and moved his project back over to its original position on the table. Nikita, noticing Walter was no longer giving her room to laze about on his workstation, stood up straight and moved out of the way.
"Was it because he didn't want it to work out, or because they didn't want it to work out?" Nikita nodded towards the glass windows of Command.
"You catch on to things quickly. That's a good thing. You're gonna need to stay on your toes around here."
Nikita leaned down on the workstation, this time propping herself up on her elbows. She knew her tight electric blue leather mini skirt and ribbed white crop top were driving the old man wild with fantasies. She angled herself so that her straight-on profile added a suggestive allure to her inquiry.
"You've been around for a while in here, right?" Nikita gave Walter a long and lazy gaze, her eyes drinking him slowly. "You've come to know just about every operative in here…especially the ones that have been here for a long time."
Walter waited a moment for Nikita to get to her point. She continued to sway herself in snake-like movements attempting to charm her prey. He moved to the other side of the drone and began working on tightening a screw with far too much concentration. Undaunted, Nikita moved closer to him, sliding a hand up his denim sleeved arm and over his right shoulder. Her fingers curled around the salt and pepper braid that tailed beneath the red and black paisley bandana he always wore, along with a silver ear cuff and an onyx loop in his left ear. Nikita often thought of Walter as looking like a pirate from Treasure Island. He fit the part of one very well, right down to the scruffy beard and swarthy skin tone of a sea rover.
"Tell me…just between friends… What's Michael like, really?"
Walter stopped working. A slight grin pulled over his lips as a short chuckle escaped him.
"Friends? Darling, if you haven't figured it out by now, no one at Section is your friend." Walter turned and looked directly at Nikita. "Don't trust anyone."
Nikita drew back from Walter, suddenly feeling more than rejected. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back.
"I shouldn't trust anyone?" Nikita repeated. "Not even you?"
"Especially me, sugar." Walter gave a quick, playful grin. "I'm the worst."
Nikita watched as the ghost of Walter faded into the glass of The Perch window. Another man emerged from Munitions carrying a load of panels to store away in the utility bank nearest the Communications Hub. Nikita tracked to Communications and watched as Trent instructed an operative at her computer. In her thoughts, she could hear the distant voices of past agents she once worked with floating in and out of awareness. She saw Seymour Birkoff, the young intrepid Head of Section One Communications, sitting in his chair, feet up on the desk and tossing a small red rubber ball in the air. His red-tinted wireframes glinted in the blue and green lights of the monitors. His cherry red lips were always parted to allow out a smart quip or sarcastic comment. Later, she learned that he acted like a bit of a prick, mainly so that others would not see that he really was a scared little boy in a perilous and grown-up world. No more had that fact become apparent than his first field mission as a Controller. After nearly being killed, it was not questioned the reasons for his apprehensions of going back out again. He was terrified. However, no matter his fear, he was expected to perform just the same as any other operative regardless of his experience.
"I can't live knowing I could die!" Birkoff was close to tears and panic.
Nikita considered his words, then leaped over his bed. Her black square heels ignored the water bed's uneven pressure as it adjusted to try and accommodate her. Jumping off, she pulled her baby Glock from a holster hidden beneath her pinstriped suit jacket and aimed it squarely at his head. Alarmed, Birkoff backpedaled into a wall and stared directly into the barrel of the gun.
"You will die." Nikita pulled the trigger allowing the click of the empty chamber to prove her point. "See? You just did?"
Nikita closed her eyes.
A headache began once more at the base of her skull. It began to spread its tentacles alongside her temples and around her eye sockets. She tried to recall the last time she took a Tylenol. What hour had it been? Was it before or after the previous briefing?
A short but quick knock alerted Nikita to someone's presence entering Command.
"Are you busy?"
Nikita looked up and smiled. Michael walked into the office carrying a panel cupped in his right hand. He dressed casually in dark denim jeans and a wine-colored button-down shirt. Lately, this was his new regular uniform instead of the polished tailored Italian suits he used to wear.
"Not at all," Nikita pulled herself quickly out of her thoughts and focused on Michael.
"I've reviewed several of the recruits you asked to be moved up to Active Status."
"And what did you think?"
"I've approved all but three. They need a bit more time to develop." Michael handed Nikita the panel. "Four of them I think will make good additions to Trent's team. They show high intellect and sufficient knowledge of technology to be able to catch on to how our network works."
"That will only leave eight to fill fourteen spots."
"Seven," Michael corrected. "One, I think won't work out at all. Their scores are much too low, they are having trouble keeping up with the training schedule, and have shown signs of…mental weakness."
"Mental weakness?"
"His psyche evaluation returned. He showed classic signs of psychopathic narcissism and megalomania."
"Plain English, please."
"He thinks he's better than everyone when he actually is the worst."
Nikita nodded. "Well, alright. Let's cut him loose."
"I've already begun processing him out. He will be transported from the building within the hour."
"He is going to need to be contained."
"He is being decoded right now. Once he is fully uninstalled, we will begin complete extraction and expatriation."
"Expatriation? I don't think it would be necessary for him to have to leave the country."
"It's an assurance that all security measures are met, and Section remains invisible. Once he is processed, he will be transferred to a different location and admitted into a hospital for extended care. Anything that he says will be held in question."
"You're sending him to a psychiatric hospital?"
Michael said nothing as he stood and waited for Nikita to fully grasp the process of releasing an agent back into a world that he was once disconnected from. Nikita shook her head again.
"Unbelievable…"
"Because of his current psychosis, if he is made aware of his rejection from Section, he may begin telling others about us."
"We're already known. Our recruitment is open to the general public just like any other organization. There's no need to drag criminals off of death row and force them into far worse sentences than they had. We're working with other world powers and agencies all around the world. Section is no longer the Wizard behind the black curtain. We are out in the open now."
"That is a mistake."
Nikita rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not one that we can turn from now. We've already established relations with Intelligence agencies and military departments around the world.. There are no No Contest Missions, no forced marriages, or abortions. I've changed all that. If you want a family, a life outside of Section, you can have one, so long as you don't go about telling everyone who you work for and what you do. You can still be undercover without being dead. People can still be trusted to do their jobs without threatening their lives, you know."
"That can't work, Nikita. You know that."
"It has so far."
"Did it work when you were taken?" Michael took a step towards Nikita and looked at her with serious eyes. "How easy would it have been to grab Helmut instead of you? How easy would it have been to grab your daughter? There were reasons why Section was running the way that it was. Reasons why there were so many restrictions in place for operatives. It wasn't to keep us from living. It was to make sure others didn't die because we chose to take another path instead of the one that we were traveling."
Nikita tightened her jaw as she looked down at the panel in her hand and scanned through the remaining approved candidates. She added her credentials to force through the selected cadets and reclassified them as full Active Duty operatives.
"You understand why it has to be handled in this way, right?"
"I get it," Nikita shrugged. "You want to handle things the old way because that is the only way that you know and feel comfortable. I get it. I just think there is a better, more humane road we could take to process out an operative, is all."
"It's not the old way. If I were going to handle it the way it would have been handled, that kid would be dead by now."
"Ah!" said Nikita, coming to a mock realization. "That's right. Operations and Madeline's rule book of Section etiquette 101. If it doesn't work, eliminate it." Nikita turned to Michael. "Is that what you're going to do? Is that what you want to do?"
"It's cleaner, more efficient, and leaves less of a mess to have to deal with later."
Nikita found it hard to look at Michael. She wondered when Section Michael would return and to what degree. In the space of a few minutes standing in Command, the new Michael was replaced by the old one, revealing once more the cold and distant man she had known before. He was silent as he waited for her to respond, but Nikita did not want to. The air in the room had become stiff and sharp like the edge of a blade.
"How are we coming with the Al Amin case?" Michael relaxed into a parade rest stance.
Nikita considered Michael a moment, pushing out a short huff in response. "Still working on trying to figure out where he disappeared to. I feel like we just let our game slip through our fingers."
"Someone is keeping him informed of our movements."
"Who? Don't say there's a mole. I can't go through another internal inquest."
"Al Amin has supporters both inside and outside of the Islamic borders. Anything he wants to know, he can find out through any one of multiple communication sites. Right now, I don't think he is aware of us specifically. His movements suggest he is reacting to communications intercepted from the Israeli military, which we are intimately aligned with. Our attacks are being attributed to continued Israeli involvement in the conflict. Whatever we do, they will blame Israel."
"We are commissioned by them to help contain this threat. Their war has been going on for far too long now. There are too many lives, innocent lives, being lost. It's just odd that they know exactly when we are striking and where. Every time we are overwhelmed."
"Maybe we should try a different approach."
"What other approach is there?"
Nikita turned back towards the window and looked out onto the main floor. Below, a band of operatives moved towards Munitions to receive their equipment for a mission set to run within a few hours. The group was young, with the eldest being no older than twenty-five. Dressed in the field and tactical gear, the band, looked more like children dressed up for Halloween than a seasoned counter-terrorist strike team. She shook her head in dismay, knowing deep down that they were not likely to all return in one piece. The fighting between Hezbollah and the Israeli Armed Forces was bloody and left very few survivors. Section was called to contain and dissolve several single targets within the Islamic organization. For as many Islamic leaders that they managed to take down, there always seemed to be another cropping up in its place, ready to continue the fight against Israel for supremacy.
Michael moved next to Nikita and looked out to the main floor along with her. He slipped his hands into his jeans' pockets. The casual change in his posture drew Nikita's attention again, considering his personality's lesser-known side.
"Going after Al Amin directly is not going to gain us what we want. We need to switch strategies. I'll review his profile again and reconfigure a new analysis. We're missing something that is plainly there. We're just looking at it with the wrong lens."
A young woman quickly made her way towards Munitions, buttoning her jacket closed. Her beach blonde hair was left unsecured and free-flowing over her back. Her team filed out towards the hall leading to Van Access. One team member, a male with dark brown hair and a sporty build, waited for the young woman to catch up. When she did, he handed her a bag loaded with the field gear she would need for their outing. The two walked side by side on their way out. Nikita swallowed down a memory of leaving on her own missions with Michael, who, like the young man, often waited for her to catch up. She was not always late. Sometimes she was delayed by a last-minute briefing with Madeline or a final extra intel download from Systems. Michael was the one that collected her equipment to give to her once they boarded the van.
"I'll be back with a new analysis and report."
Nikita snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Michael. Her memory of him before contrasted slightly with what he looked like now. The age in his face pulled the softness in his eyes and the allure of his lips back into itself, leaving the hardened mask of Section. Even after grooming himself to something of his former glory, his face was still somewhat unrecognizable to Nikita. New lines, new experiences, and new emotions were shown upon his face that was not there before. She could still see and feel the presence of the Michael that she knew, only this time, there was another spirit lingering just outside of it. There was someone new that she desperately wanted to learn and to understand. However, she could see that he was not entirely trusting of her enough to allow himself to be wholly seen.
"I'll check back in with you later this afternoon."
Michael nodded and turned to leave.
"Michael…"
"Yes?" He returned.
Nikita stepped away from the window and turned fully to Michael. She moved closer to him so that he could see her and sense her presence near him and remember. She reached for his hand, grazing it lightly with her fingers, before moving off to his side so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Michael held on to her fingers, closing his own hand around hers. Nikita warmed a little, realizing that, no matter what, he would not deny her his touch. She allowed a small smile.
"Have you found a place yet?"
"Yes. I close on it in a week."
"House here in the city?" Nikita could not hide the hopefulness in her voice.
Michael allowed a slight lift to the corner of his mouth.
"No…"
"Of course…You never liked being in the city."
"It wasn't the city I didn't like…It never mattered where I lived."
Michael's thumb rubbed across her knuckles, pressing in at the skin. Nikita felt herself want to lean in more towards his shoulder but stopped herself. Instead, she straightened.
"Do you think…we could meet for coffee one day? Just you and I? Not at Section."
Michael dipped his gaze slightly, considering the question.
"It's possible."
"I have something I feel I need to discuss with you…But I don't want to talk about it here."
Michael nodded.
"How about tomorrow morning? After I drop Adam off at school, we can meet at the cafe' we always went to before."
"Sure."
Michael turned to Nikita. "You can tell me whatever it is that you need to say."
Nikita lifted her eyes to meet Michael's. Words threatened to launch from her mouth. She folded her lips back in to keep from speaking more. Michael's gaze draped over her heavily, pulling her down into soft memories of moments between them. She could smell the musk he still wore. It was a woodsy kind of scent that played well with his natural aroma making him feel wild and warm like a campfire. She felt dreamy and floating on ghostly whispers of words spoken between them. A familiar hum began within her, radiating the old energy they once shared. His gaze bore deeper within her, drawing him closer towards her parted lips. She could smell him strongly, his scent filling up her every sense and invading her mind. His fingers grasped hers tightly, pressing his palm against her palm and intertwining his fingers with hers.
Nikita breathed in deeply. Michael's chest rose and fell with her.
"Michael…"
"Yes, Nikita…"
Nikita closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her name on his lips.
"Michael…I…"
"Director Volker."
Nikita's shoulders slumped as she exhaled out the beautiful air that had filled her lungs. Reluctantly, she let go of Michael's hand and went to the back monitors to retrieve her Comm Unit. Tapping it on, she answered Trent.
"What is it?"
"We've located Al Amin," Trent reported. "He was spotted in Syria."
"City?"
"Damascus."
"What team do we have in Damascus?" Nikita began typing on the computer and accessed a tracker board listing all presently running missions.
"The intel didn't come from a team. This was sent over to us by someone working for the Syrian Armed Forces. It was an alert that came over about ten minutes ago."
"Has the information been verified by one of our men?" Nikita tried cross-referencing operatives nearby with known allies within the Syrian Army.
"It's being corroborated now. We should have a definite response back in about five more minutes. The photos look real, though. I'm pretty sure this is our guy."
Trent sent the digital images to Nikita's monitor. Nikita uploaded the file and confirmed that the pictures were indeed of Elias Al Amin.
"Is this the only file?"
"No. There are more pictures and some details about Al Amin's whereabouts. I'm sending this to both you and Michael's panel right now."
"Good. Send everything. Doesn't matter if it is connected or not. I want details of the pilot, the other passengers, the driver. Everything." Nikita quickly dragged the photographs to an authenticator app on her computer to verify that the photos were real and not misinformation doctored to look natural.
"Coming right up, boss."
Nikita cut the line. She briefly looked at her watch, noting the time. It was already well past ten in the evening. She took a quick look at her phone and saw several missed calls from Helmut.
"Go home," said Michael. "I'll take care of things tonight. I'll brief you in the morning."
"No. I'm okay. I need to be here."
"You need to be home…with your family."
Nikita frowned. She turned and crossed the floor to grab her field panel and download the images Trent just sent. Michael watched her a moment before moving towards her. Nikita continued to work, ignoring the look on Michael's face as he approached her. He stood near her, careful not to touch her but allowing his closeness to still her hands again.
"I'm not leaving, Michael."
"Yes, you are. You need to get home to your family. I can handle things here."
"What about Adam? You need to get home to him just as much."
"Adam is okay. He is here with me. Jasmine is looking after him for me.."
"Still. You should be home."
"I am home," said Michael. "At least for tonight. Go home to your child and your husband."
Nikita's heart pulled at his last words. She stared at Michael, wishing that he would say something different from telling her to go home. She wanted him to say that he needed her to stay with him and help work out a new strategy to capture Al Amin. She wanted him to tell her that the mission was far too critical for her to abandon it, especially with further information giving more details about Al Amin. She wanted him to say anything else other than going home. The longer she stood in front of him, the less it was apparent that he would tell her anything more than to leave.
"Alright." Nikita threw up her hands in defeat.
She handed Michael her panel.
"I want a complete briefing in the morning, though."
Nikita took off her Comm Unit and started out of Command.
"Six a.m."
"Six? What happened to five a.m?"
"I'll let you sleep in a little," said Michael, cocking a quick grin back.
Nikita walked out of Command, leaving Michael to handle the new information. After gathering her purse and coat, she rechecked her phone and was relieved to not have missed any more calls. She walked across the main floor and looked back up into Command.
Michael stood at The Perch, engaged in a conversation on the Comm Unit and referencing the panel. There was a strange satisfaction in seeing him in Command working. He held a relaxed disposition that was different from when he stood in Command before as the interim Operations while Paul worked in his new assignment at Center. Then, he was harsh and stoic, unmoved and rigid. The very sight of him in Command was nightmarish for some, mainly because it was not known what type of leader Michael would be if given the reins to Section. He proved himself to be cunning, meticulous, and daring in his actions which drew Oversight's eyes towards him as a possible replacement should Paul remain at Center. Madeline was especially nervous. It was evident how she attempted to appear supportive of Michael yet undermine him at every turn. With Michael at the helm, Section continued much as it had before, only with an even lesser emotive commander.
Nikita rechecked her watch, then cast one last look up towards The Perch. Michael stared down from the window. Nikita gave a quick wiggle of her fingers, to which Michael returned a barely detectable nod. Nikita turned and headed out of Section for home, feeling unsettled.