Black Bullet

Nikita's stomach growled angrily as she sat studying the latest field notes. There was nothing mentioned when her reconnaissance team landed in Syria or when they contacted Al Amin's men. The same information received from earlier that morning reported one more that their target was in Damascus residing in a penthouse suite near the city center.

The morning was difficult after going to bed at nearly two in the morning. She was grateful that sleep came fast. She barely noticed when Helmut slid next to her in bed. Normally, he would curl up behind her and hold her close. That night, he lay on his side facing away from her. She was mildly aware of him, catching the scent of his Ivory soap just as she pulled the sheets from her legs.

You should have called...Nikita thought as she made her way towards the bathroom to start her day. She glanced several times at the sleeping figure lying in her bed. At times, the figure was her husband, and others it was not. It was Michael, lying flat on his back as he always did sleeping as soundless and motionless as a corpse. The idea of Michael being a robot was never more apparent than when he was asleep. She could barely detect the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When Nikita was fully dressed, she went back into the bedroom to find her purse and cell phone. She looked over at Helmut, seeing him in the dim moonlight.

Nikita checked time.

It was nearly half past five o'clock, which left very little time to drive to where Section's mask building was located. With luck, she would arrive in her office right at six a.m. If there was heavy traffic along the way, she would have to call Michael to let him know that she was going to be late.

Calling Michael…

The idea of needing to call Michael to inform him of all that she was doing was a bit too familiar to Nikita. She almost wondered why it was that she did not receive a call from him on her cell phone speaking her code name to summon her. She used to dread his call. She knew each time her phone rang, it was going to be him pulling her back into the depths of Hell where there was no escape. Both angels and demons were trapped underground with the lords of the netherrealm offering no hope of ever finding the redemption they first promised. When it was all over...when the monsters were vanquished and the gates were opened, Nikita could barely get used to the light. The outside world was much too bright for those that spent a lifetime buried within Section. It was too bright for her...at first.

Helmut became her shield as she stepped from the darkened corridors beneath the city streets. He guided her through the living world and reintroduced her to what living on the outside of Section could be like. The feeling was magical in the beginning. The world opened and she felt alive again. With the addition of her daughter, Nikita could not imagine returning to the world that Section had been, nor could she subject others to the same treatment. Seeing Michael walking into her office that morning.

He was dressed in a pair of dark tween slacks and a gray pull-over henley sweater. He looked a little scruffy having gone a day without shaving, but the pleasant look on his face and the dual cups he brought with him, dismissed his roughened appearance. She smelled his signature scent of amber and woods along with the savory notes of vanilla and mocha coffee.

"Good morning," Nikita greeted as she accepted her steaming brew.

"Shall we begin with Davidson's Division, or would you like to review last week's cadet scores?"

Nikita did not hide her pleased expression as she took in Michael's relaxed appearance and genteel demeanor. Even though he spent the night at Section, likely in one of the State Rooms in the Officer's Quarters on Level 6, aside from the scruff, he looked fresh and awake. It did not matter if he slept for ten hours or one, Michael always looked well rested and ready for the day no matter where he was. Nikita, on the other hand, could not say the same for herself. With only a few hours of sleep, the heavy bags and sluggish movements told on her.

You should always look your best...Even when you feel your absolute worst...

Madeline's words never failed to echo in her thoughts each time she reached for an outfit to get dressed. That morning, she chose a houndstooth suit jacket, black leather fitted pants and a silk maroon tank to offset her drowsy demeanor. In the electric blue and green lights of Systems, she contrasted smartly against the steel gray surroundings.

"It's a pretty well-designed building," said Trent as he displayed the digital blueprints of the penthouse. "There are multiple access points...which means multiple points of escape. There is a guard on each level with sentinels patrolling in twos on each floor. The higher you go up, the more personnel you run into. Plus, the place is built like a fortress. You could try and bomb it, but it won't bring the building down. The interior structure is reinforced with cinder block firewalls. There's a heliport on the roof and a bomb shelter in the basement. He's even got what looks like a panic room."

Trent did not hold back his growing interest as he continued to detail the features of the building. The glow from his monitor turned his eyes purple making him appear more attuned to the computers than the rest of the world.

"So he's got a high level of security around him," said Nikita nonchalantly. "We've been able to breach strongholds like this before."

"Maybe not like this one," said Trent, forgetting his audience. "This guy has all the bells and all the whistles...and a few kazoos. Jeez-Louise, he could lock this place down completely, and we'd never even get to sneeze at him if he discovers us."

"What other access points are there that we could use that aren't on the grid?" said Michael.

Trent searched the blueprints and came to a cylinder structure appearing to connect to each floor through an air system or other duct work.

"This might be something here," said Trent. "But it looks too tight to be wide enough to fit anybody...Maybe a small kid…"

Nikita and Michael looked at one another, reading each other's thoughts immediately. If it had been Madeline and Operations planning the mission, a small kid would have been on the menu as an option. Michael shrugged, dismissing the idea, then returned to the monitors.

Nikita took a panel and reviewed the profiles of the other men seen with Al Amin. Some were Syrian militia, others were connected to a separate Islamic faction working in league with the Islamic Jihad. Al Amin moved fluidly through the city in heavily armored vehicles flanked by military-trained militiamen. They were largely ignored by the Syrian troops positioned at nearly every corner of the town. Residents navigated the war-torn streets, carefully avoiding the troops who stood at their open-top jeeps with rifles in hand.

"The city is definitely his. The guards don't seem to be paying him any mind at all while he is going about."

"In the Shi'a community, men like Al Amin are called Imams," said Michael, once more on the move around Trent's chair. "They are The Infallible."

"More like the Untouchables," said Trent.

"As a religious leader, his word is considered the uncontested truth of Allah. No one can deny him or refute what he says. Because he is a descendent of Mohammed, he is basically like a god-king...only, they don't recognize him as a king...But, if he calls for Jihad, then Jihad it will be."

"A what?" Trent looked lost.

"A holy war," Quinn answered, then turned to Michael. "Al Amin is in Damascus, but he isn't there for political purposes. It looks like he is there for recreation." She accessed a grouping of photos and displayed them on the hologram table. "He has been spotted having dinner with several members of the Syrian military, including President al-Assad's Brigadier General, Suheil al-Hassan."

"He's going to be very secured while he is in Damascus, which might work in our favor," said Michael. "His guard will be down. We will still need to be very careful when moving towards capturing him. Just because his guard is down, doesn't mean his security detail won't remain on high alert."

"We obviously can't go in guns blazing," said Nikita.

"Are you proposing insertion?" Michael looked to Nikita.

"It doesn't look like he switches up his drivers or swaps out his bodyguards...So we can't slip a man in there that way...We have to figure out another way.. One that he won't detect." Nikita pulled her suit jacket off and draped it over the back of a vacant chair. "Maybe... The chances are slim that we can get someone in, but...I think with the right agent, we might be able to get eyes on the inside to at least spot Al Amin."

Michael crossed over to the other side of Trent and slipped his hands inside his pockets. Nikita enjoyed the way his shirt spread across the expanse of his chest, subtly outlining the shape of his muscles. She licked her lips, remembering the smooth taste of the coffee and the peaceful conversation. It was not the cafe' she had hoped to be sitting across from Michael, but her office was private enough to mimic the illusion of seclusion. Despite the quick pacing of the day, Nikita could not help but steal away a few moments of reflection as she looked at Michael.

"This cat is not like most other Shi'a clergy," Trent was saying as he displayed Elias Al Amin's newly reanalyzed profile on the hologram board. "Most of the clergy don't spend any time around a whole lot of the public. They are considered…like…the holiest of holy men. Beyond reproach. God-like. I mean, these men are treated like kings among their people. Basically, they act like these guys can't do any wrong no matter what they do."

"No man is without flaws," said Quinn, eyeballing Michael and Nikita as they stood almost side by side one another.

Trent looked over the photographs of Al Amin enjoying a group of scantily clad women surrounding him at what looked to be a poolside dinner party. He stopped at one particular photo of an exotic-looking woman dressed in a string black bikini draping herself over Al Amin's lap.

"This guy certainly isn't," Trent agreed. "But I don't think they give a shit."

Quinn frowned, pressing her lips tightly together. Trent grinned back, enjoying how much he was able to get under the profiler's skin.

"So, what's the move?" Nikita folded her arms. "How do we get inside Al Amin's camp?"

"If we could get a man into one of these dinner parties, maybe we could have him followed," said Trent. "Keep track of where he is going and what he is doing so that we could find the optimal point to catch him off guard and…you know…Do our thang."

"We're not killing him," said Nikita, knowing exactly what Trent meant. "We need him alive for questioning and to find out more of what we don't know about the inner workings of his organization."

"I highly doubt Al Amin will trust anyone that isn't already a part of his inner circle," said Quinn. "He's not going to just let some random guy off the street start hanging out with him."

"It would be impossible to insert a guy inside of his inner circle," Trent agreed. "His security is tight, and he has ties with the surrounding militia. They would shoot anyone we send in at first sight."

"What if it wasn't a guy?" Michael stared long at one image on Trent's monitors.

The room stopped a moment, considering Michael's proposal. Both Trent and Quinn looked to Nikita.

"I don't know any female operative we have on the roster that could work as a shadow. It's a patriarchal society where women are subservient to the men," Nikita pointed out. "They aren't even allowed in the meeting rooms when Al Amin congregates with his commanders."

"The only women that look like they can get anywhere near Al Amin are these chicks he is seen with at some of the parties." Trent enlarged three photos showing Al Amin with a group of bikini-clad women. "Don't get me wrong, the local hunnies are cute...but these girls don't even look like girls that should be hanging around a dude like our boy. They look like video hos."

"A video whore?" Quinn gave Trent a look that spoke both her disgust and her confusion with his assessment of the women in the photographs.

"Yeah, you know. Yo Gotti? Two Chainz? Jay-Z?" Trent saw that he was not explaining himself well enough to Quinn. "The Thong Song?"

"I don't listen to that kind of music," said Quinn, waving Trent off.

"You know you like to whistle while you twerk."

Nikita did not react to Trent's comment outwardly. Instead, she kept her amusement hidden behind a stark expression. Quinn gave a disapproving look then returned to her own screens.

"Video whore or not, they are often close to him enough to be considered," said Nikita.

"You want to use one of them?" Quinn did not hide her distrust of the idea.

"No. Not necessarily."

"If we can insert one of our own."

Michael began, studying the pictures before coming to a photograph of a young woman that looked a lot like Agent Jasmine Kwong, a Level 5 Field Operative that was quickly one of Nikita's favorite choices for difficult missions.

Nikita shook her head. "Can't use her."

"Why not?" Michael righted and crossed his arms.

"She is already on detail in Libya."

"No, she's not," said Trent. "She's been back home for three days now."

Trent suddenly felt all eyes on him. He shrank back a little, not enjoying the unsettling feeling of the intense focus of the room when he was not asking for it.

"He's right," Quinn spoke up, taking some of the heat off of Trent. "She and her team checked back in a few days ago. Her debriefing report is in your Inbox and has been for some time now."

Nikita ignored Quinn's last insert about Jasmine's report. There were plenty of other housekeeping duties that were left undone as well. Jasmine's was not the only report that she had not taken a look at since becoming preoccupied with Al Amin.

"Where is she now?"

"On Mandatory Leave," Trent responded after a quick review of Jasmine's operative status file. "She was approved a two-week No Contract status to decompress."

"Who approved that?"

Trent looked through the list of supervisory credentials and selected the last and final decision.

"You did…"

Nikita sank a little into her high heels. There was a look of hopelessness that invaded her already tense expression. Out of habit, she looked to Michael.

"Maybe we don't use her," said Michael.

"We don't have anyone else," said Quinn. "At least no one that could do this kind of assignment that isn't already out doing something else."

"What about a recruit?" Trent looked up at Michael and Nikita. "We could fast track one of them…I mean…all they are going to be doing is showing the guy a good time. How dangerous is that?"

"Plenty if you don't know what you're doing," said Nikita, giving Trent a hard look back. "You, of all people, know how brutal putting a new cadet in Fast Tracking can be. Besides, there won't be enough time to teach someone everything they would need to know to successfully infiltrate an insurgent inner circle. We need someone already trained."

"Access our current roster," Michael instructed. "Cancel out operatives that are presently in the field, narrow the parameters to include only females that are Active status, early to mid-twenties, European with exotic features. Preferably blondes or brunettes. Can speak multiple languages…Are slender in build between one hundred-twenty pounds and one thirty…with reasonable to high intelligence."

"Looking for a hot date tonight?" said Nikita somewhat smugly.

"Al Amin has specific tastes." Michael turned to Nikita, still maintaining his stone expression.

"We could use just about anyone available. She doesn't need to be a beauty queen. She needs to be as unassuming as possible. She needs to be invisible," said Nikita.

"She needs to be just the opposite. We want her to be seen. Specifically by Al Amin. He has to want her. He has to notice her from across a crowded room. Be drawn to her. He has to need her immediately without even knowing who she is, where she came from, or why she is there."

"You say that as if you know that intimately," said Nikita. She stared back at Michael, matching his intensity.

"I know the landscape," Michael answered, then turned his back to Nikita to pace the floor again. "Whoever we send in has to know that they are going in alone. Unprotected, unsecured, and hopefully undetected. If they are found out, we can't send in to rescue them. No extraction. Whatever happens to them from that point on is just what happens to them. Section can not show their involvement."

"We can't just leave her out there like a stray dog. If she runs into trouble, we gotta help her.."

"If we show our hand in any way, the whole entire contract will be void. Our commission is to go in and take Al Aminby any means we see fit as covertly as possible."

"I know that, Michael. I just don't see a reason to be cruel to our own people." Nikita's voice sounded far away as she receded further into the background of Systems and leaned against a desk. "No chance of retrieval? Just whatever happens to her happens to her?"

"If she is good, it won't matter. She would work better if she did not receive any help from us during the mission. It could impair her judgment and might cause her to make mistakes."

"Which is why I said we should use someone with more experience."

"Her lack of experience might help her be easier to train. She wouldn't have picked up bad habits along the way."

"And here I thought Operations and Madeline were the monsters in the fairytale…"

Nikita and Michael once more locked together in a single stare that continued their ongoing silent battle. Trent and Quinn could do nothing but sit and watch as the two heads of Section argued between themselves without words.

"It's a bad idea," said Nikita after a long, uncomfortable pause.

"Here are all of the female operatives currently listed with us," Trent said, hoping to push forward with the meeting. He displayed the profiles of several different women that fit Michael's specifications. "There are about fifty or so that fit Michael's profile."

Michael looked over the first grouping and dismissed them with a finger, flicking their profile pictures off the hologram grid. He moved on to a second batch and began flicking off another row of rejections with just as little consideration as the first group.

"Aren't you going to even look at the women long enough to see if they qualify for your standards?" Quinn watched as Michael continued to dismiss woman after woman with a swipe of his hand. "How can you tell which one is the right one for the job if you don't bother looking at their credits?"

"Don't need to," said Michael as he continued to narrow down his search. "I'll know her when I see her."

Quinn pressed her lips down into a thin line across her face and wrapped her arms about herself. She leaned back in her seat and watched as Michael dismissed another group. After Michael eliminated the second group, Nikita stepped up towards the table. She looked at the selection of women that Michael was moving through quickly. One after one, the smiling and serious faces of young, modelesque women scrolled in a row, lined up to be analyzed, considered, and subsequently rejected by both Nikita and Michael. Trent and Quinn watched on as Nikita began moving the profiles out of the selection and working the list backward as Michael moved down from the top images. Once they reached the end of the next grouping, Trent moved to display another until they came to the final list of cadets. Michael began to slow then come to a stop at one image of a young smiling blonde woman. Nikita stopped at the same image and considered the bright blue eyes gazing softly back at her from the hologram grid. Michael touched her image and displayed the young woman's complete profile and list of credits.

"Katya Russo," said Trent. "Age twenty-five. She's a first-year recruit. Not quite out of her freshman year on The Farm, though. She knows five languages, two of them being Latin and French…Was an early graduate from Cambridge University where she studied molecular science and genome medicine…And! Get this! She's a former swimsuit model for Sports Illustrator circa 2010. I think we've found a winner."

Trent's smile was wider than a Cheshire cat's.

"Possibly," said Michael, looking over the photo spread of the young model in the swimsuit catalog.

"No," said Nikita bluntly.

"Why?" Michael turned to Nikita.

"She's brand new. She'll never work. She's not even a full operative yet. She's still a cadet."

"She can be moved up. Trained and brought to speed. Her scores are more than sufficient," said Michael.

"It's not about her scores, Michael. She's young and too inexperienced for this type of work."

"She fits the profile."

"I don't care. This job is too dangerous. She's gonna get herself killed."

"We can't wait any longer," said Michael with a bit more energy in his tone than what was normal for him. "There isn't anyone else that will work. It has to be her."

"Why? Because she looks good in a swimsuit?"

"Yes."

"Pick someone else!"

Michael started to respond but instead drew in a steadying breath. He folded his arms defiantly. Nikita planted her fists on her hips.

"Maybe Michael has a point," said Quinn in a rare moment of agreement with Michael. "Katya is the only operative we have that looks remotely like someone that Al Amin might pay attention to. She plays her cards right, she can get really close to him, and if she can get close to him, she can tag him. She can place a GPS locater on him, and we could have a team scoop him up at just the right time."

"She'll need to do more than that," said Michael decisively. "She'll need to get close to him and stay close. She needs to go everywhere he goes."

Nikita shot Quinn a look that clearly spoke of her disagreement without needing to say the words. She returned to Michael.

"She doesn't have to be underneath him to track him. We just need somewhere there that knows what they are doing and we can trust to do the job," Nikita argued. "I cannot allow a girl that hasn't had one day of combat training, much less has the skills to survive a volatile situation like this. She is neither prepared nor mentally equipped to handle any of this!"

"None of us were ever ready to handle what we were all dropped into when we were sent out on our first missions," Michael pointed out. "There is no other choice. We have to trust that she will work and that she will get the job done."

"It wouldn't be fair to any of the other more qualified agents to give her such an important assignment. It certainly wouldn't be fair to her."

"You're stalling," Michael accused.

"She won't know what she will be getting herself into over there. She could get killed...or worse, raped. I can't have that on my conscience. If something horrible were to happen to her...it won't be her that gets blamed if the mission fails. It will be me that this all comes down on."

"No one ever said this was going to be easy," said Michael. "It has its risks, but we don't have options. Al Amin has walled himself within a city that is sworn to protect him. Anyone that looks like they may be a fighter will get gunned down. You've seen the surveillance footage. Al Amin would not suspect a female operative that looks like that to be a threat."

Nikita continued to shake her head. She stared at Michael with emotion building in her ice-blue eyes.

"I can't let you do it." Nikita shook her head again, her expression sinking into despair. She rubbed her hands over her head, almost pulling loose her ponytail. "Who is going to train her to be ready?"

"I will," said Michael. "I'll make sure she knows everything she needs to know to get her in. The rest I can coach through her Comm Unit."

Trent looked from Nikita to Michael, noticing the thick tension that was suddenly in the room. His eyes widened slightly as Nikita took a few decisive steps towards Michael. A stern look told everyone in the room that she was not pleased with Michael's offer in the least bit.

"You'll train her…" Nikita took a step forward with her arms crossed.

"Yes."

"The same way you trained me?"

"I will teach her how to survive the world she will be going into. She will get a fast course in weapons with Whistler. Combat with Barnes. Etiquette with me."

"I suppose etiquette won't be the only thing you'll be teaching her…"

"Among other things."

"Hmm...Well then…I guess it's all settled. At the end of your training, don't forget to take her out and give her a present. Make sure you wrap it in gold foil and red ribbon with a big bow on it." Nikita grabbed her suit jacket and clutched it in her fist. "Tell her she earned it…"

She turned to Trent. "Pick someone else."

Trent and Quinn watched as Nikita stormed out of Systems, heading to her office. Michael looked after her, his expression reading less worry than anger. When she had disappeared down the corridor, Michael returned to Trent and crossed his arms.

"Start from the beginning?" Trent said, breaking the silence as he stared up at Michael.

"There's no need to. We have our game piece. Pull her file and send it to my office."

Michael turned on his heels and left from Systems. Quinn looked over at Trent, who looked back, simulating wiping sweat from his brow.

"Wow…That got heated fast."

Quinn nodded. "Doesn't surprise me, though. I mean, look at her. Wouldn't you feel some type of way about the man that trained you wanting to train someone that looks just like you once did? She's gotta be wondering what his motivations are."

"What do you mean? Katya doesn't look anything like Nikita."

"C'mon, Trent. You can't be that blind."

Quinn reached over and typed in Nikita's profile. She scrolled through the succession of photos documenting her career back to the very first picture taken of her when she was first recruited. She displayed a young, twenty-four-year-old profile of Nikita and put it next to Katya's profile picture. In the hologram blue and orange lighting, the two women looked nearly identical with only minor differences. Both women held piercing blue eyes and supple soft pink lips made fuller by lip stain. Both had silken blonde hair and long, slender frames that made any designer drool to have them wear their fashions. Both their smiles were bright and genuine, and they looked nearly identical in tactical gear. Trent studied both images and shook his head in amazement.

"If I didn't know better, I would say Nikita has a clone."

"She might be," said Quinn warily. "You know how Section was at one time. Whole levels were closed off. Who knew what went on in the deeper corridors of the building? The fact is, Nikita likely does not want to use Katya for this mission because she probably reminds her too much of herself. She didn't exactly start off on a good foot here. Her first test was in a restaurant getting shot at by men trying to kill her over a stolen PDA."

"What does Michael have anything to do with it?"

"He was the one that set her up. Made it look like a date and then just left her there with a gun and a time clock quickly running down. Nikita passed her test, but it wasn't because she was prepared to do it or knew that she was doing it. She had to fight her way out only to find out later that it was just a test to see if she could do it. Section didn't even need the PDA."

"Wow," said Trent. "That's harsh…But…No harsher than how most of us got in. Section used me and a bunch of my other squad mates as decoys and bait to flush out Crystal Skye. I think they expected us all to get killed, Michael and Nikita along with us, but…We managed to pull through with only one casualty…"

"It was never said that Section played fair," said Quinn, musing over her own experiences. "Oftentimes, they tell you to jump a chasm but only give you a three-foot running start."

"So what do we do? Nikita doesn't want us to pick Katya, but Michael certainly wants her. Which way do we drive?"

"That depends. Which cliff are you more afraid to drive off of?"

Trent grimaced as he considered his options. He reassessed Katya's file and stared at it, trying to weigh out his options. Quinn looked at her watch, then back at Trent, checking to see if he was closer to making a decision. She leaned forward, pressing her hand down on the desk and reaching over top Trent's hands. She typed in a command and began downloading the file information on to a data drive. Trent started to object but was gently pushed back down into his seat. After the drive was finished, Quinn typed the command to confirm the download and removed the drive.

"There. Now, if Nikita asks you if you gave the file to Michael, you can honestly tell her that you didn't do it. Someone else did."

Quinn turned to leave out of systems with the drive-in hand.

"Quinn…"

She turned back.

"Do you think we are doing the right thing? Disobeying Nikita?"

Quinn considered Trent's question. She shrugged. "I've seen Nikita mad. She gets over things quickly. Michael is…a different story."

"So it doesn't bother you that we are defying a direct order from the Head of Section right now by doing this?"

"I'll put it to you this way. Nikita is what Section is right now. Michael is what Section should be. In my opinion, I'll go with what should be, not what is. That's always subject to change."

Michael grunted an answer to the quick knocks on the door frame of his office. He barely looked up to see Quinn enter into the darkened office as he continued working at the computer monitor on the far wall. Her heels sounded hollow against the concrete flooring, coming to a pause just inside the door.

"What is it?"

Quinn waited a moment more before speaking. Her eyes traveled about the spartan room, taking in the cold and barren landscape of the office's utilitarian decor. There were no woods and warm tones to help lessen the austere rigidity that composed the world that Michael inhabited. It was uncertain whether making everything around him look uncomfortable and unwelcoming was by purpose or happenstance. Michael's workspace was never considered a place to be comfortable or inviting to others. It was a place where life and death were often decided and dismissed. It was a place where decisions had to be made, and precision was key. There was little need for leisure, even though he did make room for a little of it. A small couch and table lamp housed a few well-worn novels that he dared to bring along with him into his workspace. It was unlikely for anyone to venture into his sanctum long enough to view the tiny reading nook or notice the pair of bifocals that rested on top of the stack of books. By how long it took Quinn to respond, he surmised she was taking in the office in much the same way as anyone else finding themselves standing within its cinderblock walls.

"I brought you the file you asked for." Quinn set the drive on Michael's desk.

"Thank you."

"Thought maybe you would like to discuss Katya's training schedule. I can provide you here updated scores from her latest assessment. I'm pretty sure they are in by now."

"That would be helpful."

Quinn stood a moment more, watching Michael. She listened as his fingers worked fast, typing out another profile analysis and adding details about the men that Al Amin had around him. Michael was acutely aware of her as she ran her fingers over the smooth lacquer of his desk, noticing its sheen against the lamplight. For all of its severe bleakness, there was a hidden warmth within the woodgrain.

"It's odd that Nikita was so much against using Katya," began Quinn.

"I'm sure Nikita has her reasons."

"Yes, but what would they be? We all know that this job is not easy. It is often very dangerous. We can't expect that every mission that we go on is one that we are guaranteed to come back from."

"The assignment could be too difficult for a recruit to be successful. An inexperienced operative would rarely be chosen for this kind of mission. She may have a point with that," said Michael. He turned from the monitors and moved to his computer at his desk.

Quinn leaned slightly against the edge of Michael's desk and waited for him to pick up the drive.

"I don't think it has anything to do with her being a brand new recruit," said Quinn. "I think it has everything to do with what Katya looks like…And the fact that you volunteered to train her."

"I train everyone," said Michael as he looked through the file. "It doesn't matter who it is, what they look like."

"It matters to Nikita," said Quinn warily. "Tell me the second you saw Katya's photo that you didn't immediately think it was Nikita."

Michael continued to review the profile silently. Quinn watched as he looked through the pictures and noticed immediately what it was that both Quinn and Trent saw. The wide-eyed expression of the young woman reminded him of Nikita's first operative photo taken moments after she was released from the White Room. Unlike Nikita, there was a playfulness in her expression that was absent from Nikita's photo. He reasoned because Katya was a joined recruit who had applied for the position rather than being forced into it.

"She probably thinks you're gonna start getting nostalgic, going back to the days when you and she trained in close quarters… someone that looks like Katya…teaching her how to be even more alluring… That's gotta be very tempting."

Michael looked at Quinn. She reacted, surprised by how the light of his monitor cast an eerie white glaze in his eyes, turning his near blue eyes almost soulless white.

"Tempting for what?"

Quinn lifted from his desk and took a step back. "Maybe it's not. Maybe you don't care."

"It's irrelevant."

"Maybe to someone like you...But for someone like Nikita..."

"Nikita knows my only interest in Katya is for the mission. There is no threat of temptation because there are none. Nikita might not agree with the choice or even like the sequence plan, but she will eventually come to accept what needs to be done and fall in line with it."

"Fall in line," Quinn repeated. "Are you sure about that?" Quinn took a step forward towards Michael. "You've been gone a long while, Michael. It could be that you still are under the illusion that things haven't changed much since when you were here. I'm sure that by now, you know it's either her way or no other way. She isn't going to just let this thing go your way."

Michael folded his hands on his desk and considered Quinn's words. She leaned forward, peering down into his eyes again, this time unafraid of what she would see within the computer blue light.

"You should talk with Nikita. Really talk with her. You'll probably find out there is more about her that you don't know…More that you need to know."

"Whatever I need to know from Nikita, I'm sure she will tell me."

"Really?" Quinn righted and started towards the door. "I know you think you know all there is to know about Nikita. Granted, you have been able to read her pretty thoroughly, but Nikita has her secrets. I'm not saying she needs to reveal all to you, but...she does owe you one transparency. She needs to tell you the truth."

"Truth about what?"

"Check her medical records. The ones she doesn't want anyone to know about. The ones she had sealed. I'm sure if you look deep enough, you'll find out much more than you thought you knew about Nikita. Once you figure it out, you'll have plenty to discuss with her...Whether she wants to talk about it or not.."