Michael came up silently behind Birkoff, lightly placing a hand on his neck. It was a subtle warning, but one well taken. "Birkoff—"

Birkoff didn't even attempt to turn around to face Michael. He'd learned his lesson well. He wouldn't betray Michael and Nikita again. If they needed his help, he would gladly give it. "What do you need, Michael?" he whispered, seemingly transfixed by his monitor screen.

"I need you to find out how they "adjusted" Nikita."

"Specific details?"

"As specific as you can get."

Birkoff suddenly beamed, his eyes sparking brightly as he whirled his chair around. "You're in luck! I just ran that intel for Operations!"

Michael frowned. Operations wasn't fully aware of what they did to Nikita? No, that sounded wrong. Operations was the one who planted the shadow profile in the operative's PDA at Genofex. He was the one who diverted Nikita from her rendezvous with him there. Whatever happened to Nikita happened on the top floor at Genofex. With Operations' full knowledge and approval.

If Operations wanted to know the specific details of how Nikita was altered, perhaps he wanted to reverse the process. Perhaps he was on Michael's side on this. Perhaps…he was dreaming. When had Operations ever been on anyone's side but his own?

"Michael?" Birkoff interrupted Michael's contemplation.

Michael nodded to Birkoff. Birkoff glanced around surreptitiously before continuing. "I sent a copy of the intel to Walter. If anyone can figure out what to do to help Nikita, it'll be him."

Michael rested a hand on Birkoff's shoulder. "Thanks."

Birkoff didn't know what else to say.

Michael sat through the mission briefing, completely preoccupied. Operations studied the younger man, once the frontrunner to succeed him, and sighed. He hated to lose the years and effort invested in making Michael what he was today. That was why he was so reluctant to cancel him outright. But he was beginning to believe there might be no other option. With Nikita this damaged, and the process apparently irreversible, Michael was virtually useless.

He considered sending Nikita out on a suicide mission, making her death appear to be an accident. Just another casualty of a mission. But he wasn't sure that Michael wouldn't find a way to save her just the same, circumventing the whole idea.

The mission briefing broke up, and operatives went their separate ways. Operations had made sure that Nikita was not on this mission with Michael. He wanted to see if Michael was still capable of performing at all. Somehow he doubted it.

Michael remained seated at the table, long after the rest of the team left. Operations drew closer to Michael, seeing at close range what Madeline had wrought. He rested one leg on the edge of the table, crossing his arms in front of him. "Michael…"

Michael looked up at Operations. His eyes were bleak. Pale, almost colorless chips of green ice. "Yes?"

"Are you going on this mission?"

Michael took a deep breath. "If I must."

"I'm replacing you as Tactical Oversight."

"Good."

Michael's expression never changed. Flat affect. Monotone voice. It wasn't that he didn't employ all of these behaviors each and every day at Section. It was just…eerie. There was an intense aura surrounding Michael, almost like a visible halo, and Operations instinctively kept his distance.

Michael had always been controllable. Until now.

What if he couldn't be controlled?

The mission survived without Michael. Michael continued to brood. Operations continued to fret. The intel he received from Birkoff was extremely detailed. Unfortunately, the only person truly qualified to read and understand the report was Madeline.

That could be a significant problem.

Madeline knew she was in danger of being canceled at any moment. She might not care about saving Nikita. In fact, there was a good chance that she would opt to take down Nikita.

Operations strode confidently into Madeline's office and stood in front of her desk, arms akimbo. "Madeline!"

"Yes, Paul?" she replied, far too calmly for someone facing imminent cancellation.

"Did you come to any conclusions regarding Nikita's condition?"

"Yes." She paused for effect. "The procedure is not reversible."

Operations smiled. The result was oddly inappropriate. "I had a feeling you might say that."

Operations backed away from Madeline, as if he were removing himself from a direct line of fire. He was.

He turned to the figure that suddenly appeared in the doorway. "She's all yours."

Madeline stood up, totally aghast at the turn of events. "Paul! I thought I was going to be canceled!"

Operations grinned wickedly. "You will be. Eventually. But somehow, there wasn't enough justice in mere cancellation, Madeline. You've destroyed two of my best operatives. Now neither one is salvageable. Cancellation just seems like such an…understatement."

"You're going to throw me to the wolves, Paul? I deserve better than that. I've been loyal to Section for more years than either of us cares to remember."

"And as we've seen with Walter…one big mistake seems to outweigh all those years of service. You're the one claiming undying devotion to Section, Madeline. So you've got to ask yourself. What would you do if you were me?"

Madeline paled. She knew what she would do.

And it was about to become a reality.

Michael stepped through the doorway, his chosen instrument of vengeance a gun. It was curiously impersonal that way. As if Madeline were just another target. Actually, in his head, she was. There was nothing remotely humane left inside of her.

Operations turned to look at Michael. "You're not just going to shoot her, are you?" He was frankly surprised. Michael seemed on the brink of losing control, and a bullet was too quick a death for what Madeline had done. Even he thought so.

Madeline wouldn't make it easy for him. She hissed at Michael, "I should have just canceled Nikita. I still can."

"If you do, I'm as good as dead."

"You'd get over it eventually, Michael," she exclaimed coldly.

Michael raised the gun he was holding, aiming for Madeline's head. At this range, he wouldn't miss. "You killed me years ago, Madeline, I just didn't know it until now."

Madeline said carefully, "If you kill me, she'll never come back to you the way she was. The answers die with me."

Michael's hand trembled ever so slightly on the gun. "You don't have the answers anyway."

He advanced slowly on Madeline, his booted heels making no sound on the carpet.

Madeline looked at Operations, as if he would defend her. "Cancel both of them, Paul. Michael's obviously out of control. You can't put him back in the field. You could never trust him."

Operations simply stared at her bemusedly. "Michael will be canceled, Madeline. But this was his last request."

Madeline gasped.

Michael drew even with Madeline, his green eyes glittering dangerously. "You don't get it, do you, Madeline?" He started to circle her, his gun up and now ready to fire at any time. He clicked off the safety. It made a loud noise in the silent room.

"I'd rather die with her than live without her."

Michael's words rang out sharply, their echoes almost hurting Madeline's ears.

Operations said, "You can't argue with a man that willing to die for his cause, Madeline. Even if his cause is a woman. Or love. I couldn't."

Michael aimed.

Operations sighed. "Goodbye, Madeline."

"Stop!"

Everyone turned as one to look at the figure in the doorway.

Nikita.

If there was anything capable of distracting Michael from his course of action at this point, it could only be Nikita. His eyes swept over her automatically, checking her for visible injuries. "Are you all right?"

"I am now."

He blinked. "What are you saying?"

"It's all coming back to me, Michael!" Nikita exclaimed happily.

Michael looked stunned. She remembered? The gun in his hand wavered, and Madeline would have taken full advantage, but Nikita pulled out her own gun and drew a careful bead on Madeline.

"Bit by bit, it's all coming back, Madeline. You knew the electrical stimulation only causes temporary amnesia at best. That fades with time. It was the chemical component that was blocking me from feeling anything for Michael."

Madeline nodded slowly. "But I deliberately made no antidote. So you could never be restored."

Nikita nodded in agreement. "Yes, you heartless witch."

Michael put his hand over Nikita's on the gun. "If there's no antidote, don't shoot her yet. Maybe we can persuade her to make one."

Madeline laughed hysterically. "I'll see you in Hell first."

Operations raised an eyebrow. "That can be arranged, Madeline."

Madeline sobered. "Now you've got a compelling reason to keep me alive, Paul, and we all know it. So give up. I've won."

"Even if you kill me, I've won," she repeated.

Nikita fired. The report from the gun made all of them jump, but most especially Madeline, who suddenly found herself bleeding from a superficial arm wound. "You missed, Nikita. Emotion is clouding your mind."

"For your information, Madeline, I like my mind clouded with emotion. It's what separates us humans from people like you."

She smiled, her blue eyes curiously frosty. "Oh, and not for nothing, but I didn't miss. I got exactly what I aimed for."

She turned to Michael now, the chill leaving her eyes instantly. "Michael, did you ever read the note I handed you?"

"What note?" Michael asked blankly.

"Oh, that note," Michael replied, realizing that she meant the note she handed to him in his office. He shook his head.

"I was preoccupied with other things, Kita."

"Well, read it now."

He pulled the note out of his jacket pocket and opened it. Suddenly his eyes widened, incredulous. "Is this true?"

Operations frowned. "What's in the note, Nikita?"

"Still planning to cancel both of us?"

"That depends. What's in the note?"

"My restoration…and Michael's salvation."

Operations escorted Madeline to the White Room personally. He didn't feel she had atoned for her sins nearly enough, even if she did still warrant cancellation.

As for Michael and Nikita, Operations had decided that they were valuable resources, too costly to replace easily. He rescinded the orders of cancellation on both of them. But more than that, he made a move that would haunt Madeline all the way to Hell and back.

He sanctioned their relationship. Finally.

He was nothing if not practical. He'd seen the effects of keeping the two of them apart and frankly, their effectiveness, rated in percentages, was simply better when they were together.

Therefore, he made the only decision possible.

He might not be a fool for romance, and his decision was ostensibly not based on sentimental reasons, but Michael and Nikita didn't care. All that mattered was the outcome of that decision.

Michael leaned against the edge of his desk, Nikita cradled in his arms. "You can feel this, Kita?"

"Yes, Michael." She looked deep into his beautiful eyes, now suspiciously shiny. "Now don't you cry on me."

"Me? I never cry, Kita." He kissed her, then slid his cheek against hers.

He laughed softly. "That was a lie. I cried everyday over losing you."

Nikita squeezed her own eyes shut. "I know, Michael. So did I."

"Can you hear my heart pounding, Kita?" He kissed the side of her face, then trailed kisses down the length of her neck, finally burying his face in the space between her neck and her shoulder.

"Yes." she whispered. "Can you hear mine?"

He sighed contentedly, his lips warm and moist against her neck. "Kita, we have to thank Walter. For the antidote."

"And Birkoff for getting him the intel so quickly."

"Of course. What can we do to repay them?"

"Stay alive?" Nikita chuckled.

"Definitely." Michael brushed her hair back from her face, savoring the way she trembled under his hand. "You're so responsive now."

"Walter said that was a side effect of the antidote."

Michael's eyes darkened, with passion, rather than pain. "Really?"

"When will it wear off? This incredible sensitivity?"

She smiled slowly. "He's not sure. Maybe it'll never go away."

He nuzzled her lips with his. She teased him, not allowing him full contact with her mouth, forcing him to pull her closer and closer. "Mmm…we might need to experiment a bit. Just to see what's different."

His mouth claimed hers in a kiss of such intensity, it made both of them ache inside. "Oh, God, Kita, I love you so much."

Nikita kissed him back, almost tentatively at first, then losing herself in the wake of emotion unleashed. "I love you, Michael." Emotion so heartfelt it made her cry.

"Don't cry, Kita. Please." He began kissing the tears that sparkled their way down her cheeks.

"I can't help it, Michael. You were willing to die for me."

He stared at her, framing her face with both hands as if he meant to kiss her again. "I've always been willing to die for you, Kita."

She placed her hands over his. "Does this mean we're going to be together from now on?"

He nodded solemnly. "Forever, if God allows it."

"That sounds serious." She bit her lip anxiously.

"It is. I think the only cure is marriage."

"M-marriage? You'd want to marry me?"

He kissed her tenderly. "Kita, if they hadn't forced us to, we wouldn't have been sneaking around, playing cloak and dagger games in the dark, every moment we could. We would have been married."

Nikita's sapphire gaze clouded over. "So much time lost, Michael."

"So much still left, Kita." He waited expectantly.

She stared and stared at that beloved face. "Oh, Michael, yes!" she cried excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, winding his hands through her long blonde hair, even as he felt her fingers creeping playfully through the curls on the back of his neck.

"I love you, Kita."

"I love you, Michael."

Such joy should always be expressed.

"Let's go home."

End