Chapter 4 (Unedited)

During his long years at work for Division, Michael made a considerable amount of trustworthy people. They were relationships that started when he decided to spare their lives, or the lives of their loved ones. Of course, all these benevolent actions were kept in the dark; after all, he had a reputation to uphold among Division. Between him and each of them, there were no financial benefits, only unceasing strings of cordial favors. Usually, he would not contact any of them, as he despised owing anyone any favors. When Nikita fell, literally, he had already decided what he needed to do. He had to summons these connections, but he couldn't do it so long as he was part of Division, at least not all of them at the same time. The problem was that he needed all the help he could get. Risking exposure of himself and his contacts was out of the question. It would undo all the good he did and ensure him a position on the cancellation list. He decided that the only way to even attempt to save her was to leave Division once and for all. He needed to get his life back.

The day he left occurred almost a week after Nikita's demise. He was unconscious for two whole days from exhaustion and stress. He chastised himself for being weak, for needing too much time to recuperate. There was a minute, right after he regained consciousness, where heaven feel upon him. Within these precious seconds, he felt nothing because he knew nothing; that was before his memories viciously returned and attacked him. He closed his eyes in attempt to force his tears back. He was within the walls of Division. He could not show any form of weakness even if there was not a single soul near him. There were eyes everywhere.

Suddenly Percy burst in proudly, his smile ever so evil, "Michael! You've finally done the deed."

Michael could only give a fake, proud scoff, as if he was sharing the joy as much as the devil himself.

"You really should be proud of yourself. Well I came to announce even more good news."

Michael well knew that good news for Percy meant bad news for Nikita. He hoped that the good news was not as good as Percy praised them to be.

"Well then, don't keep me in the dark," Michael said happily.

"We did a good number on Nikita. You should have seen her, all bruised and done. Well the main point is that she's gone, and she really is! I mean, we haven't found her body yet, but I don't think even Nikita can survive that fall. It was a grand cliff!" laughed Percy, "I don't regret it for a second that I sent you on that mission! Couldn't have made a better decision in my life. Anyhow, rest up, Michael, you have yet to reap your rewards."

And with that, Percy walked out the medical door, leaving Michael in misery and guilt. You'll regret everything one day, Percy, Michael thought to himself. By this time, Percy trusted Michael enough to not have called Amanda to him brief him. Three days later, after making sure Percy wasn't too worked up on finding any remains, Michael started to cooperate his leave. Percy had a very personal mission that he was eager to attend to, which meant that it would most likely result in a very handsome payment. He even brought Amanda with him. This worked advantageously for Michael, especially since he was left in charge. He started by gathering weapons of all sorts and secretively loaded them into one of Divisions trucks. He already had another car prepared for the switch, to prevent being traced. He was searching through computer files when Birkoff rummaged in.

"Michael, what the hell are you doing? You have no idea how odd you were acting today. I followed you around and I saw you do all that. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm fucking leaving with a shitload of arms. What else does it look like I was doing?"

"Stop joking around, man. Percy won't have this."

"Yeah, well I don't give a fuck what that son of a bitch allows or doesn't allow. I'm taking my life back."

"Is this all about Nikki? Dude, she's gone! Just snap out of your denial before Percy catches you."

"Oh, don't worry about that; I'll be long gone, just after I deactivate and destroy this tracker."

"Michael, look…"

Before he was able to finish, Michael interceded, "No, Birkoff, just don't. You know I love her, you just don't know how much. You don't know how it feels like to have to murder your own love even after knowing how much pain she was already dealing with. You don't know how many moments I've already missed being with her. You don't know the pain, the torture, the agony, and everything else. You don't know, and Percy certainly doesn't know. This is how he uses everyone."

Birkoff was speechless. He didn't know the pain his good friend was going through, but at the moment, he seemed to have just experienced a small taste of it, and it wasn't pleasant at all. Michael looked after him through all of these years. Whenever he made a mistake, Michael had him covered and protected him from the wrath of Percy, Amanda, and anyone else who shunned him. He at least owed Michael an attempt to understand. He knew Percy was just using them all. It was the nature of the business they run. But this was his only life. There was nothing out there for him.

"Birkoff, we can't keep doing this. He's going to use us until we're all dead. So then what happens for you, huh? We get labeled as Percy's pet, renowned killers and murderers- that is if anyone even knows us. We are nobodies here, no identity, nothing! We're not even our own. I know I haven't done much good in my life, but even then, I don't want to die for one man's greed. I will not succumb to that low! We are supposed to fight to live, not fight to die," pronounced Michael.

"Michael…"

Before he could finish, Michael continued, "and I'm hurting so much. I miss her so much. I have nothing to live or anymore in this world without her! I'm nothing! So please, Birkoff, you either kill me now or you let me go."

"Let me help you."

Michael was taken aback. He really did not expect Birkoff to willingly be of assistance. At this moment, it didn't matter if Birkoff was planning to double-cross him. He had a chance to leave, and he most certainly was going to take it.

"Birkoff, look, you're not obligated to. You know as well as I do that Percy has no tolerance for these matters."

"Dude, you're not the only one who misses Nikki. She was… is one of the good ones. Plus, I'm not going to leave my brother standing alone," said Birkoff with a smile. He wanted to let Michael know that they were on the same side because Michael is the closest thing to a brother he has. Who knows; maybe one day they can have a normal life enhanced with a touch of abnormal advance of technology for him. He didn't want to be Percy's dog for the rest of his life. He wanted Michael to be happy, with Nikita if she was still alive. Ah, Nikita. He had a crush on her once, almost everyone did. Her character was not only charming and loving, her personality was cunning, intelligent, alluring, and all the good things one can name. He too wished she were alive. This was all Birkoff can do; stay in Division and offer any intel Michael might need.

"I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Don't thank me. Stay in touch."

With a last acknowledgement of a brotherhood, Michael departed.

Thinking back to that day, Michael felt the same feeling of appreciation, one that he will never forget. It was Birkoff who provided Michael with essential information on certain missions then and now. Moreover, Birkoff gave Michael the sense of brotherhood, of a family that he thought he had long lost.

His mobile phone rang aloud, bringing him back to the present. He pressed on the talk button and waited for someone to speak.

A computerized voice spoke robotically, "Fisherman witnessed woman saved by Caucasian man near cliff's bay."

Immediately after, the line was cut. Michael understood what that was. It was one of his contacts that were able to return the favour by discovering information he needed. He knew it was wasn't much, but it was something that he could use. His bags were ready to go. It was irrevocably time to return to those fateful heights that laundered his life away.

Blankness, then pain. Nikita slowly opened her eyelids. The pain was just bright enough to see the dim couture of certain figurines. Her head pounded even with the lack of light. She closed her eyes momentarily, and immediately pictures of people exploded in her mind. They flashed by very quickly in continuous cycles. There was this one picture of a man that popped up extra frequently. She couldn't remember his name, but she felt special feelings towards him. He, somehow, made her yearn for him despite the fact that she couldn't remember him. This was when she snapped; she couldn't remember these people. For God's sake she couldn't even remember her own name.

Nikita panicked as her eyes ran freely at anything she can grasp in the room. Where is she, she thought to herself. Struggling to get up, she used the bedside table to assist her. Her body hurt, in some areas more than others. She ran her hands over the areas that burned more, feeling the scars as if she just discovered them. Like a rush of a strong tide, those memories rushed back to her. She saw that very same man raise a gun against her. He looked both crossed and heartbroken. She saw his mouth moved, then darkness, then freefall. She didn't understand the feeling that rose when she thought about him. He is, after all, the man who shot her to oblivion.

She tried to focus on her current mission – to get out. She had no idea where she was, but she didn't allow herself to trust the situation. She quickly got off the bed and attempted to run towards the door, but fell before even being able to move another step, creating a very audible bang. Her legs were weak and frail, both from injury and the lack of use. She found herself helpless. She frowned and punched her leg in frustration, waiting at what was to come. She knew her fall would not go unnoticed, and was bound to attract some kind of attention. Soon enough a man appeared at the door and quickly approached her. She knew his face, but failed to recognize him.

Owen, upon hearing the thump, ran upstairs to her room. She was finally awake! He couldn't help but smile. After months of daydreaming, he was hoping he could make his wishes come true; he wanted a life with her. After the death of Sarah, the only one who loved him at that time, he was lonely. He thought life was meaningless and that he was nothing. The world was much better off without the likes of him, but Nikita had taught him differently. She, a stranger, cared a lot for him. She quickly forgave him even after admitting that he was Daniel's murderer, She healed him, cared for him, housed him, protected him, and so much more no one had ever performed for him. He soon felt deep feelings for her that he refused to admit. Then one day, she disappeared, not that she was obligated to stay with him. He found out that she had a few encounters with Michael. Oh, Michael, that son of a bitch. Owen was fiercely jealous of Michael. That bastard seemed to have a sway with Nikita. He zealously strung her along with him effortlessly. Owen could not understand what was so significant about Michael. Michael could not offer the protection and nurture Nikita needed; he was not even willing to! Michael was Percy's dog. Owen decided that he would do anything to keep Nikita with him. He was the better man.

He reached her room in no time. Seeing her on the ground, he walked towards her, hoping he would not frighten her. He wanted her to trust him. She struck out her arm to stop him from nearing her anymore than he had. Her arm shook in pain and fatigue. She breathed harshly from inputting much effort in her movements.

"Don't come any closer," she cautioned.

"Nikita…" Owen wanted to ask why, but paused when she looked at him curiously. He interpreted what had just happened. She didn't know who or what a "Nikita" was.

"What?" she asked shakily, not sure if he was addressing her. She used her arms to push her off the ground a bit and leaned against the bed. Her eyes never left his. She was desperate for answers, but she did not dare ask.

"You don't remember, do you?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, except tilt her face slightly and frowned a bit more. She tried to keep her authoritative expression, but was unable to do so when he simply continued staring at her with a determined face. She looked away, feeling embarrassed. She felt exposed, embarrassed, and weak. Owen saw her bashfulness and smiled. He couldn't help but chuckle aloud. That eased the awkwardness she had, so she accepted his help. He lifted her and settled her onto the bed. He, while holding onto her, propped the thick pillow against the headboard, and slowly eased her against it.

"You must be hungry and thirsty," he started while massaging her legs, "I'm going to go prepare something we can feast on. It won't take long." He could see that she was not completely comfortable just yet, but he understood that this would take time. He covered the lower half of her body with the blanket and left to food.

"Wait," she called him back.

He stopped without looking back, anticipating her question or questions.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He secretly smiled and replied, "I think the better question is, who are you."

With that he walked away. He knew he was eventually going to have what he wanted – her.