Lanita Worth, codenamed Isabella, was a dead ringer for Nikita. They say everyone has a double somewhere in the world. Well, unfortunately, Nikita's double was right here in Section One. In her face. As often as possible. To make matters worse, she liked pretending to be Nikita. Which would not be a problem except that she liked to wreak havoc in Nikita's name and leave Nikita with the blame.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but Lanita was obsessed with Nikita. She sometimes felt that she was her. And of course, being Nikita meant being with Michael. Now, Michael, to his credit, could usually see Lanita coming a mile away, but there were times, embarrassing times, when he did mistake the other woman for Nikita. Those were the times Lanita lived for. She loved to provoke Michael into a rage, knowing he could not express it within the confines of Section One. Better yet, she was occasionally able to trap Michael into a compromising situation, forcing him to betray certain feelings he had for Nikita.

So it came as no surprise to anyone that eventually, Lanita and Nikita would have a showdown of some sort. The only variables worth betting on were when it would happen and who would win. Birkoff was making a fortune taking bets from all over Section One, and his natural intelligence gifted him with an oddsmaking ability equaled only by Jimmy the Greek.

Nikita sat in Michael's office and sipped her coffee. One of the few perks of her job lately. Being allowed to sit comfortably in Michael's office, instead of having to bolt in and out like a thief. Now that Michael had brought their relationship out into the open, she was forever having to defend herself against innuendoes of favoritism, if he so much as wished her "good luck" on a mission. But this, sitting in his office, sipping coffee out of his mug, really was favoritism, and she knew it. But she loved it.

But what really made it perfect was when Michael would sit here with her. It made her feel so warm and fuzzy, she knew she was reacting in an overly sentimental fashion, but she couldn't help it. It was like being married. They would share the croissants and the French Roast coffee, and sometimes, sometimes Nikita would almost swear she was developing an appetite.

So the only thing that could mar this splendid morning was to run into someone who had an encounter with Lanita, and thought it was Nikita. Lanita never had positive encounters, she was hell-bent on provoking a reaction, so she found negative emotions far more interesting. But Nikita did not find dealing with their aftermath nearly as interesting.

Michael walked into the office, smiling at Nikita as he passed her. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Michael." She looked up at him, standing over her, his eyes bright with mischief this morning.

"You look like you slept well."

"You should know," she said with a laugh.

He reached out to touch her, and she sat perfectly still, in anticipation of his caress. His hand closed around her chin, cupping it, and he bent down to kiss her. "Mmm…my favorite coffee," he said, tasting her on his lips. He licked her mouth mischievously, and she giggled. The world was good today. Even in Section. Especially in Section.

Nikita responded to Michael's kisses with a tiny gasp, her mouth opening under his. He pulled on her lower lip gently with his teeth, until it was almost swollen. He laughed softly, his breath fanning her cheeks.

"What?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"I was just thinking of how much I missed you, but it's only been…" He glanced at his watch. "…two hours since I saw you…"

"You mean, at home, in bed?" she asked coyly, her mouth curved into a devilish grin.

He looked puzzled. "No, I mean, two hours ago, here."

She looked momentarily confused, eventually concluding, not without some anger, that he had not seen her, but Lanita. "I don't think it was me you saw, Michael."

He abruptly stopped nuzzling her neck and stared at her. "Not Lanita again."

She nodded. "Must have been. It wasn't me."

"We have to do something about her, Kita. She's starting to get on my last nerve."

"What did you do with her that you wish you hadn't, now, Michael?" she said, vexed at Lanita, but not a little miffed at Michael for succumbing to Lanita's ploy.

Michael was grateful for the training that Section gave him at that moment. It enabled him to don the blank stare as though it were the Cloak of Invisibility. "I don't know what you mean, Kita," he said, raising an eyebrow, as if he were quite offended that she was questioning his integrity.

"Never mind, Michael." She dismissed the other woman without another thought.

She was too happy this morning to worry about Lanita. Things were going so well between her and Michael. She reached up and kissed his nose. "At least she has good taste in men."

He laughed and kissed her mouth, trying to hold onto her even as she pulled away, giggling. "So do you," he added.

She wagged a finger at him in warning. He took her finger into his mouth, and she sighed contentedly. "You're teasing me…"

"And myself…" he said, knowing that they could never finish what they started. Not here in Section. Certainly not in his office.

She brushed against his body, and he went rigid at her merest touch. "Don't move, Kita, please…"

He backed her over the desk, his mouth plundering hers with a ferocity that excited both of them. Suddenly someone cleared his throat. It was Birkoff.

Standing in the open doorway. Birkoff knew he had a certain reputation for interrupting Michael and Nikita, but he honestly hadn't intended to, at least, not this time.

He colored the shade of a fresh tomato. "Sorry…"

Michael straightened up, taking care to pull Nikita in front of his body, hiding the effect she had on him. He played with her long, pale hair, as though he hadn't a single other thing on his mind, but nothing could be farther from the truth.

"What is it, Birkoff?" he asked, never pausing in his ministrations, which did nothing to allay Birkoff's anxiety.

Birkoff couldn't take his eyes off Michael and Nikita. Where before they would have sprung apart, almost embarrassed to be found together, now they were continuing to touch and caress one another. In his presence. It was unnerving.

He swallowed hard. "Um…"

"Spit it out, Birkoff."

Michael kissed the nape of Nikita's neck. Birkoff's eyes grew bigger. Sheesh.

"M-mission's coming u-up…"

"That's a nasty stammer you've got there, Birkoff," Nikita said, her eyes half-closed as she leaned back against Michael's body.

"Have you read the profile y-yet?"

"No…but I will." Michael brushed Nikita's hair away from her face with his roughened fingertips.

"B-better make it soon…"

"Oh, why is that?" Nikita asked languidly, lost in Michael's embrace, and not a bit worried about what Birkoff saw. She loved him dearly, but he was so easily intimidated, thank goodness.

"Because I was on my way to see you two," said Operations. a sly grin crossing his weathered face.

Operations gave the two of them that sardonic smile that said, I know what you're up to, and I want it to stop, right now.

Michael didn't ignore Operations' covert demand. He merely circumvented it. His arms dropped slowly to his sides, somehow managing to slide down Nikita's body before settling to a neutral position. He fixed Operations with a blank stare.

"I wanted to know if you've seen the mission profile yet."

"I think you can assume we haven't," Michael said dryly.

Operations was not amused. "I thought we had successfully eliminated that rebellious streak of yours, Michael."

"Are you going to give me the 'you're not here to think' lecture, like you did Nikita? I've heard it."

"And?" Operations asked.

"I'm not impressed."

Michael's tone might be non-committal, but his manner belied that tone. His body was tensed, as if to protect Nikita from Operations' wrath, in any way necessary.

Operations finally backed off, content that his point had been made. "I want you to use Lanita Worth."

That did get under Michael's skin. He almost spat at Operations' feet. "That—! That woman is completely useless."

"She's a qualified operative. We're short on operatives, we need to use everyone we can."

Operations warned Michael, "Don't let things get personal, Michael. Find a way to use her."

Michael nodded.

Operations exited the room, pushing past a sweating and anxious Birkoff. "Whew! He can get so intense, sometimes."

Michael stared at Birkoff for a long moment. "And you are still here why?"

Birkoff stuttered, "You better not, Michael, Ops might be listening, or even come back."

Michael's eyes darkened, but his expression never changed. "Let him. I'm ready."

"Well, I'm not. I'm too young to die."

And with that, Birkoff left, the door slamming behind him. Nikita would have followed Birkoff, but Michael grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back into his embrace.

"Michael! You heard Operations! He doesn't want us to be together."

Michael swept her hair back from her face with both hands, holding her tenderly, his eyes flickering back and forth, as if they searched for something.

"It's over when I say it's over, Kita."

Nikita nodded silently, unshed tears in her eyes. He kissed each eyelid that threatened to spill its sparkling tear down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, almost holding her breath.

"And Kita? It's not over."

Nikita let go of the deep breath she had been holding onto.

Michael kissed her one last time, in absolute defiance of Operations, his mouth sealed to hers in a motion that left him feeling breathless himself.

"Kita, we'll find a way somehow."

She didn't look convinced, but she trusted Michael on a level few shared in this lifetime.

"Let's go."

Moments later, they were seated at the mission briefing table, their chairs adjoining each other. Michael was careful to maintain his blank stare, making sure to ask all the right questions at the appropriate intervals, though he was certain he would not recall the answers.

Likewise, Nikita appeared oblivious to anything but Operations' droning lecture about the necessity for changing or rearranging some tiny faction's point-of-view.

Meanwhile, Michael held hands with Nikita, beneath the table, showing no outward sign of his inner turmoil. Though the distraction factor remained high, he performed creditably, as befit someone in his position. Nikita, too, glanced at Operations from time to time, as though she were actually listening, but her hand was clenched tightly around Michael's. His fingers massaged her palm and her knuckles, as the mission profile was outlined, and no one, but no one guessed what was going on. That element of danger added a very real frisson of cold up Michael's spine, but he knew he could handle it.

Lanita Worth sat at the end, plotting how much she was going to enjoy frolicking with Nikita's lover, to Nikita's dismay. Her resemblance to Nikita might make her a thorn in Nikita's side, but it had meant sheer pleasure for Lanita, time and time again.

In fact, she was certain that the nuisance factor she presented to Michael and Nikita was what prevented Operations and Madeline from banishing Lanita from Section One. At best, she was competent, at worst, merely marginal. That was undoubtedly why she was on this mission. It had to be relatively uncomplicated. In short, easy. That was good. Lanita liked easy.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Michael had overridden the mission profile and uploaded a new mission profile into Lanita's PDA. Everyone else would be operating from the correct set of instructions, while Lanita would be virtually flying blind.

Lanita thought this mission was going to be a cakewalk. It was why she wanted to be there.

Well, Lanita was going to take a walk, all right. But it would be a long walk off a short pier.

Lanita was enjoying what she assumed to be Michael's discomfiture at her presence on his team. Michael perceived Lanita as a threat to his relationship with Nikita, as well he should, since the woman clearly played these games both for her own enjoyment and to keep Operations and Madeline off her back.

Michael glanced at Nikita surreptitiously. He ensured that Lanita received the PDA with the altered profile, and then he nodded to Nikita.

Nikita sidled over to Lanita as planned, diverting her attention by provoking an extremely vocal argument. "I don't like the way you've been looking at Michael."

Lanita smiled like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. "It's a free country."

It was an odd feeling having any interaction with Lanita. It was like looking into a mirror, only to find out the reflection had replaced you in real life.

Nikita didn't have to pretend to dislike Lanita. She did. "Stay away from him or you'll be sorry."

Lanita smirked. "Who's going to stop me, you? You're highly overrated, honey."

Nikita snarled, "Eat dirt and die!"

Michael's eyes flickered imperceptibly at Nikita's histrionics. She was getting into the role perhaps a bit too well.

"Kita…" he said warningly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Lanita glanced at Michael, her mouth curving into a delicious smile, ever so slowly. "Always looking after the girlfriend, aren't you, Michael? What a waste of time! I could make you so much happier…"

Nikita glowered alarmingly at Lanita, and Michael wasn't entirely sure she was acting any longer. He pressed down hard on her shoulder, reminding Nikita that he was there. For her.

Slowly but surely, Nikita backed off, but not before everyone on the team had seen the genuine animosity between the two women. Naturally, they could not help but talk about it, and they openly wondered which one would eventually end up with Michael.

That was the last time anyone saw the two of them together. Later, when everyone was being debriefed, they would all wonder what went wrong on the mission, and how the tragic incident occurred. But some of it would remain a mystery forever.

It was said that Nikita walked straight into a crossfire between Section and the tiny faction that Operations wanted to add to his collection of personal victories.

It was said that when Michael saw Nikita's broken body, lying in the dirt, almost prophetically, he cried. In front of the entire team.

Even Lanita herself was curiously silent on just how Nikita met her end. The only thing she would say was that it must have been an 'accident' that took Nikita's life. No one believed her. Least of all, Michael. Who wanted to take revenge in the worst way. He had promised to protect Nikita. He had thought he could. He was wrong. It was a bitter lesson to have to learn, and at Nikita's expense.

Operations regarded Michael's tear-stained face with unspoken satisfaction. "Nikita is dead?"

Michael whispered, "Yes." He was still choked up, and he could barely get the words past his numb lips.

Operations glanced at Madeline. "That will be all, Michael."

Together, they watched from the Observation Deck as Michael walked through the common area with a heavy stride. No strut for Michael now. He trudged through Section like a man who was down for the count. Section won. Section always won. It wasn't fair.

When Lanita magically appeared at his side, Michael did curse out loud, so everyone nearby could hear. "You damn bitch! Get the hell away from me!"

Lanita's expression remained unchanged. It never occurred to her that Michael might find looking at her a painful reminder that she was alive and Nikita was dead. She wasn't all that bright.

Michael shrugged off her hand on his arm with a vehemence that surprised even Operations.

"He doesn't like Lanita."

Madeline looked at Operations. "Does that surprise you, Paul? Lanita took away the only thing Michael really cared about." She almost convinced Operations that she cared what happened to Michael, now that Nikita was gone. But not quite.

Operations smiled, a feral grin that even scared Madeline. "Let's pair them up for a few missions and see what develops."

Madeline looked sick. "You want Michael to be with Nikita's murderer?"

Operations put his hand up to deny that. "Now, now, there is no proof that Lanita killed Nikita, just so she could have Michael all to herself."

"But you know that's what everyone thinks."

Operations grinned openly. "I know. It's wonderful! Nikita is gone, and Lanita can take her place, making Michael miserable! That should keep him from talking to George for quite a while!"

Madeline sighed. "That's cold, even for you, Paul."

Michael reacted as predicted to being partnered with Nikita's suspected killer. "I won't be anywhere near that woman!"

Operations grinned wickedly. "It's a direct order, Michael."

Michael admitted defeat. "Then I have no choice."

Operations nodded. "I knew you would see it my way."

What Operations did not foresee, however, was that Michael would become romantically involved with Lanita. Still, he rather liked the irony involved, and he said so, often, to Madeline. They watched the new "couple" leave Section together, and knowing Lanita, they couldn't help but wonder how long it would last.

When they were out of sight of Operations and Madeline, Michael turned to Lanita and said, "This is the hardest thing I've ever done."

Lanita grinned at Michael. "I understand."

They kissed. Lanita wasn't sure she liked her new name, but she could live with it as long as she had Michael.

Michael gazed at her wistfully, caressing her face with his fingertips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

What's in a name anyway? Lanita…Nikita…

Michael loved the same woman he had always loved. He just had to call her something else. He could do that. It was easy. Michael liked easy.

Michael loved the woman who held his heart in her hands and kept his secrets. He didn't kill the real Lanita. Not personally.

But he didn't look for her when she disappeared either.

And now there was no need. His beloved Nikita lived on as Lanita. Safe from Operations and Madeline. Forever.

It is said that everyone has a double somewhere in the world. Nikita's double was dead. But Nikita took her place.

If Operations knew the truth, the irony would kill him.

Maybe one day, they would tell him, just to see if it were true.

That irony could kill.

End