No rights to Nikita.

This chapter has a lot less banter than usual.

Amanda was in her therapy room of doom and, in the irony of things, leafing through a fashion magazine.

"What are you thinking, Amanda!" Birkhoff scolded as he entered the too-white enclosure.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding bored and complacent, but still maintaining her seemingly perpetual sultry tone.

"Sending Alex on your gross little sexy mission to gain intel or whatever," he clarified. "That's essentially trafficking, Amanda, and if her files are correct, she's experienced more then enough of that in her lifetime. What, do you think you can take advantage of her because she's used to it. You were always a little psychotic, but seriously, this is crossing the line!"

Amanda looked up calmly from her magazine. "You were browsing Alex's files?" she asked.

Birkhoff scoffed at the irrelevancy. "I help make the files. I'm the computer whiz around here. Now what are you thinking?"

Amanda closed her primly magazine, and it made a soft crinkle as she put it on the tabletop in front of her.

"This may come as a shock, Seymour, but I do have some sense of decency," she replied. "While Alex may not be a recruit anymore, she still is subject to tests every once in a while. This is just another one. Then again, information gathers from the target might actually prove beneficial."

"So you're just going to let Alex go in blind and see what comes out?" Birkhoff asked.

"Alex is a servant of Division. These kinds of missions happen."

"She was a sex slave, Amanda. You think you could make an exception?"

"We don't entertain special cases in Division," she told him. "We want recruits to feel like equals."

"You're twisted!" Birkhoff exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "What could this possible test Alex for? Besides STDs?"

Amanda sighed. "You think you're so funny."

"I know I'm hilarious, but that isn't my point."

Amanda scrutinized him, sweeping over him, her gaze not seeming to focus on anything in particular. She didn't lose her expression and stood, sliding over to him. The scrutiny made Birkhoff uncomfortable.

"What?" he snapped.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Huh?"

"What's your motivation?" she rephrased. "What's it to you what happens to Alex?"

Birkhoff answered quickly. He'd expected some sort of suspicion from her and was prepared to defend himself. He wasn't sure why. Intuition, perhaps. Or maybe his snark was on the ball all the time.

"This may come as something as a shock to you, Amanda, but I have what some might call decency. And morality. And loyalty."

"Loyalty? To Alex?"

"To my friends," he clarified grimly.

"I haven't pegged you as the loyal-to-friends type."

"Well, I haven't informed you, because we're not friends."

"I see," she said, seeming unfazed.

"Aren't you supposed to be friends with Alex?" Birkhoff asked. "Or at least a mother figure. Or, like, a therapist or whatever your job is."

"I do my best to be a friend to all in service of Division."

"Do most mother figures ship their children off on sex missions?"

"If it's important enough, I suppose they would," Amanda answered.

"Well, then you're clearly deranged and should go find an actual therapist. You put the psycho in psychologist."

"Well, then I'm not the only psycho, then," she informed him. "I helped push this mission forward because I felt it was right, but I didn't suggest it in the first place."

"Well, the fact that you feel you should defend yourself should tell you something about how right this mission actually is," Birkhoff pointed out.

Amanda just stared at him. She didn't respond.

"Who did suggest the mission?" Birkhoff asked, suddenly curious.

"That's none of your business."

"Is he feeling guilty, too? Doesn't want his name associated with the whole deal?"

Her voice rose, "Considering how immaturely you're dealing with my involvement, I don't want you to know either. You might run off and throw another fit. You should really keep your emotions in check, Birkhoff."

His voice rose right back. "Well, it's better than having no emotions at all."

"Emotional detachment is a strength in Division. A weapon," she snarled.

"Too bad it's a character flaw just about everywhere else."

"Do not tell me about how wrong and unethical emotional detachment is, Birkhoff. We both know you take the crown," she accused. She drew energy off the anger that flooded Birkhoff's expression and continued, "You bounce off every remotely serious issue with snark so you won't have to face it and you prance around with arrogance so you don't have to admit what a low opinion you have of yourself."

"Stop it!"

She was on a role now. She was merciless. "One of the most capable hackers in the world, yet you couldn't find us before we could find you. You couldn't hide from us. That tortures you. You're stuck here. You lost your freedom because of your incapability. You couldn't save yourself when you were caught. You couldn't save Nikita when she left. You don't think you can save Alex from whatever you're trying to save her from. And you couldn't save Lauren."

Birkhoff's face flushed, and too many emotions shot through him for him to properly process them all.

"Do not mention Lauren around me," he demanded through gritted teeth.

"Lauren Shaw," Amanda said wistfully, striking as many nerves as she could. She'd lost sight of her reasons for arguing with Birkhoff. Something about Alex? Something about motivations? Those were out the window now. Now she was being cruel. Probably a side-effect of the emotional detachment. "She was pretty. Natural blonde, that's hard to come by these days. And she could look in anything, even though sweatpants she usually preferred."

"If you have anything good in you, stop talking," he growled.

"She was probably blonde because of all that time in the sun. While you were shut in on the computer, she could be found outside. Usually with a laptop, of course, but outside all the same. While you were busy changing your grades in your college computer records, Lauren was blogging about the cutest things her nieces did."

"Amanda . . ." his voice cracked, and he hoped Amanda thought it was because of anger.

"I'm the one who ordered her killed, you know. Percy noted your talent, but I'm the one who knew what would force you onto our side. I can order all kinds of things to be done to you. I can do all kinds of things to you myself. So if I were you, I'd think it best to not question my decisions and go back to your miserable life."

"You're insane," Birkhoff informed her, abandoning all snark and aiming straight for blunt honesty.

She shrugged and went back to sit down, picking up her magazine. "You're excused."

Having nothing effective left to say, he simply mustered up some useless volume to his voice and said, almost comically, "I don't like you very much!"

Amanda shifted her eyes up to him. "Oh, dear me," she droned.

Birkhoff scoffed, then turned to leave, closing the door behind him, leaving Amanda there. But a few seconds later, he peeked in again.

"Is that Jessica Alba on the cover of that magazine?"

Amanda gave him an are-you-serious? expression.

"You know what, no. I am not happy with you. And stuff!"

He slammed the door again, but it had even less of a powerful effect.

Amanda sighed.