Michael jolted awake, his eyes instantly searching the room for what had disturbed his sleep. Slowly his heart rate returned to normal as he realized there was nothing there.

Or was there?

"What do you want?" he hoarsely asked the figure hiding in the corner of the room.

"I just wanted to see you. See how you were doing. That's all."

He closed his eyes, painfully aware of the figure's presence. "Please go away."

The figure approached him steadily. He could sense it coming towards him. He didn't know what he would do if the figure actually touched him.

"Michael…"

He opened his eyes, emerald fire blazing forth. His breath came harshly in shudders and pants. "Go…away."

He saw it coming, and he rolled to his side, instinctively protecting himself, arms across his chest, knees drawn up and ready to kick at whatever target came.

It touched his shoulder. Its touch was curiously soft, almost fragile.

He screamed in frustration at what they had taken away from him. That it had come to this truly frightened him. That he would accept this substitution for what he'd had. That anything was better than feeling absolutely nothing…

"NIKITA!"

No one answered.

He closed his eyes again, weeping silently for his loss. That piece of him that persisted in haunting him.

Maybe it would never go away.

Maybe she would never come back.

He anxiously shuffled and re-shuffled the papers on his desk, cursing low under his breath when he couldn't find what he was looking for. His frustration tolerance was lamentable. The slightest delay, the slightest change in profile made Michael vulnerable to his temper.

That he was visibly losing control was obvious.

Madeline switched off her view of Michael's office on her monitor, turning to face an impatient Operations.

"It's not working the way it was supposed to, Madeline! Nikita doesn't remember she was in love with Michael, but Michael can't deal with it! It's going to be a repeat of what happened when he thought she was dead! If it weren't for the fact that they're both so good at what they do, I'd say, cancel both of them, and let's start over!"

Madeline surveyed Operations coolly. "You've seen the dramatic improvement in Nikita's efficiency levels?"

"What dramatic improvement, Madeline? She was already at 98 percent when we initiated this protocol! Now she's 100 per cent! But we've clearly lost Michael! So you tell me how this is progress!"

"Eventually…given enough time…Michael will learn to cope with what's happened."

"I don't think I'm going to live that long," Operations snapped at her.

All at once, Operations leaned over the desk, his face looming threateningly over Madeline. "If I'd wanted to destroy Michael, I would have said so. I'm assuming you know how to salvage the situation, Madeline. Don't disappoint me."

Madeline steepled her fingers and gazed directly into Operations' steely blue eyes. "You haven't given it enough time."

"Maybe you didn't hear me. That wasn't an opening for debate. It was an order. You broke him. Now fix him."

She stared down at her carefully maintained, uncluttered desk, admiring its simplicity. "The only way to "fix" Michael, as you so charmingly put it, would be to restore Nikita to her former condition, Paul."

"And?"

She closed her dark chocolate eyes. This was not good. Not good at all.

"I think the procedure was irreversible."

Michael sat in his office, seemingly oblivious to Operations' and Madeline's latest machinations. He knew they were watching him. They thought they were so subtle. But it wasn't just the monitors, it was everything they did. Their body language, their voices. Everything they had so carefully taught him and nurtured during his time in Section told him that they weren't done with him yet.

His green eyes looked flat, their surfaces unable to reflect even the tiniest bit of light. If one hazarded a guess, one might think that Michael himself was under the influence of major drugs. But no…the cause of his affliction was entirely emotional.

In truth, Madeline was misreading him.

In fact, that was Michael's intention.

He knew what they were looking for, what they expected to see. He gave it to them.

It disturbed him greatly to put his personal feelings on display like this, but it was the only way. He wasn't just upset. He was deeply angry. Even outraged at the violation of Nikita's mind and body.

Because he and Nikita were more like one person than two, he felt the violation as if it were his. In a way, it was. What they had, what they shared went beyond Section's distorted version of reality.

So he waited. Biding his time.

Stalking Operations as if he were prey.

Pursuing Madeline as if she were a target.

They underestimated him. They underestimated the depth of his anger.

"I won't let them do this." That was his vow to Nikita. Poor helpless Nikita who could only hurt both of them now.

She wasn't whole. They tore away a huge chunk of what she was when they took away her ability to feel love for Michael. It didn't render her useless as an operative. But it made her incapable of ever being happy again.

That was Madeline's ultimate cruelty. Worse than total amnesia. Worse than simply making Nikita forget Michael.

Madeline created a Nikita who knew what she was missing. Fully aware that she was in love with Michael before they "adjusted" her, Nikita could only stare at Michael, as if she were struck dumb. She knew what she was missing. It was like having a part of her amputated, a phantom limb that continued to pulsate and throb in tune with her inner pain.

Oh, yes, Madeline made sure that Nikita could never love Michael again. But she made sure that Nikita knew it. She could only gaze at him in wide-eyed wonder, feeling the pain and frustration that came with being unable to feel the love she knew she still had. Somewhere. Trapped deep inside her. Where it could never escape. Never see the light of day again.

It was a torture too terrible to contemplate.

It was something Michael was unable to live with for much longer. But he would wait. And wait. Until the moment was right for him to make his move.

If he couldn't have Nikita…

If he couldn't have her love…

He would just have to settle…

For revenge.

Never underestimate your opponent. That was a credo Michael lived by. He didn't. Ever. But Madeline had. And she would pay dearly.

Michael heaved a great sigh and stood up, preparing to leave his office for the upcoming mission briefing. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Nikita briskly walked into Michael's office, clearly aware that her presence was hurtful to the man she once loved.

Nikita handed Michael a handwritten note, wincing when she accidentally touched his fingertips. She saw him flinch. It broke her heart. Just seeing him in this state was killing her. As much as she hated the pain, she clung to it. It meant she still felt something. Feeling anything was better than living in limbo, knowing she craved his touch on her body, knowing that even if it were permitted, she would feel absolutely nothing.

"Mi-chael…" she said softly, commanding his attention to her beloved face.

"Don't, Kita." He looked away.

"We have to keep trying, Michael."

"No!" He shook his head vehemently. "It won't change. Nothing ever does. And it just hurts both of us. Way too much, Kita."

She pressed herself close to his body, feeling the intense reaction he had to her proximity. She hugged that feeling to herself. At least, she could feel the love he still held in his heart for her.

"Kita…" he said, warning her.

But she did it anyway. She was helpless against this tidal wave of angst that surrounded them. They loved each other once. They protected each other still.

"Tell me the words, Michael," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, convinced that if God were truly merciful, He would take him now. There was no point in resisting. She would continue until he gave in.

Eyes lit with lambent green fire, Michael stared at Nikita's face, willing the words to work their magic again. "I love you," he said hoarsely, his spirit almost completely broken now.

A single teardrop hung from Nikita's eye as she listened and absorbed Michael's message of love.

She could not answer him in kind. Her eyelids fluttered wildly for a moment, and for that one moment, Michael held his breath, hoping that this time would be different.

But it wasn't.

He slumped forward weakly, his heart quite hopelessly tattered now. He leaned his forehead on hers, like he once did, needing the comfort that the familiar gesture gave him. She understood. Even if she could feel no love for him, she felt everything else.

Empathy.

Compassion.

And now, pity.

Nikita backed up gingerly towards the door to Michael's office, her fingers extended so only the tips still touched his hand. He looked down at his hand for a moment before placing it in his jacket pocket.

After she left, there was only emptiness. Inside and out. Michael sagged against the door, summoning whatever strength he still had for the fight of his life. He wanted to kill Madeline. He had never wanted anything so much in his entire life. Except for Nikita. The two drives inside of him were tearing him apart. One might expiate the other. Maybe.

But he could not take Madeline down yet. As much as he hated the thought, Madeline was the only one capable of undoing what she did to Nikita. If it were even possible.

What if it weren't possible?

It was literally all he lived for. If it weren't possible, he could not survive. He didn't care what they did to him. Without Nikita, nothing made any sense at all. He truly didn't understand why they didn't realize this themselves.

Nikita had always held the key to Michael. To his heart. His soul. His humanity. And ultimately, his salvation.

What Section did was often cruel. Often beyond comprehension. But somehow, in spite of, or even because of, Section's machinations, Michael and Nikita forged a bond. That they could not be together did nothing to alter the strength or the significance of that bond.

"It's not over. We will be together." Michael remembered this vow, too, and he clung to what little belief he had in it now.

He seethed inside. His anger taking over, he knew he would be able to continue the struggle to find the answers that would restore Nikita to the woman she once was. His anger gave him power. He would need every bit of it.

He stared up at the spot where he knew their surveillance monitor was hidden. He knew they were watching. His green eyes narrowed to a glare of such intensity that had Madeline been observing her monitor screen at that moment, she would have known she had more to worry about than just dealing with Operations.

The scowl on Michael's face deepened and darkened.

Be afraid, Madeline.

Be very afraid.