These little babies belong to LFN, USA. I have removed them for a little while and taken them into the parallel world of Fanfic Section. No infringement is intended and I will return them unharmed but probably very happy back to their creators.
This is the first part to the sequel before Relational Duty and The Recovery. You don’t have to read this first, but it will help understand how the Dynasty of Section began.
There are a quite a number of spoilers, mostly are just references. Under the Influence is probably the most outstanding. Adrian is mentioned quite often also.
The song is by Cher, Title: "All or Nothing" from her new released album "Believe"
Hope you enjoy my own creation of how Section was born.
If you like to send me a note and let me know what you think, I would really appreciate it. The good, the bad and the ugly. Leonjif@aol.com

Fruit on the Vine

written by Codename Elise

The halls were dark now. Only the green flashing light at the end of the corridor lighted her way. She walked quickly looking around suspiciously for any sign of approaching danger. She kept to her left, holding on to the wall for guidance as she made her way deeper into the bowels of level 9. She reached the door and carefully pushed it open.

There he was, sitting in the middle of the floor, with his back towards her. In one hand he held a bottle of wine. Sensing an intruder, he automatically reached for his weapon. Within seconds he had his target within range.

They recognized each other and instinctively retracted their weapons back into the safety of their garments.

There was no need for either one to speak, everything had been said before. Memories had been rehashed over and over again until they had drawn blood from each other’s shattered hearts.

She walked around the room, bathed by the incandescent light of the candle on top of the cabinet. He closed his eyes, avoiding the splendor of her hair cascading on her shoulders like trickles of liquid gold. But there was no way to escape the magnitude of her presence. Her light perfume assaulted his senses. He decided it was best to see her for who she was, than to let his imagination take wind.

So he opened his green eyes, and gave her the same cold calculating glance he always had. The look he knew would remind her of where she was and whom she had taken the liberty to torment.

She frowned slightly, before reaching down to remove the half-empty bottle from beside his pant leg. She studied the bottle, noticing the year 1959. How like Michael to drown his sorrows in expensive wine.

"Good year." She said, her blue eyes falling like a fresh rainfall on his wintry stare. This time she would not look away. His stare had always been a challenge for dominion. The familiar expressionless façade was there to protect him, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was jealous… insanely jealous.

Good she thought, allowing herself to relish the quickly fleeting moment of triumph. How many times had she walked around with the pictures of the numerous targets he had seduced firmly etched in her mind? How many times she wanted to beat him senseless for lying and manipulating her? How many times she had heard his seductive voice and followed him blindly, abandoning all logical reason? NO MORE… she told herself looking at his pathetic image.

She stole a glance at his sullen expression, scanning over his unshaved face and mussed hair. He looked like hell. The only time she had ever seen him so careless of his appearance had been when he was grieving for Adam.

Back then she had decided to protect him from his suicidal impulses at all cost. She became his walking shadow, guarding him round the clock. During daylight she had bowed to protect him from Operations’ wrath and from the dangerous consequences of the missions he was purposely botching up. In the midnight hours she had become his avenging angel, fighting against the nightmares that clawed at what was left of his sanity.

There was no regret for what she had done. Deep in her heart she knew she could never discard completely the memories of the moments she had shared with him. But she couldn’t allow herself to live one more day hanging on his empty promises and blank stares.

The soft fabric of her long Lycra skirt brushed up against his shoulder as she walked passed him on her way to the wooden crate propped up against the wall. With one fluid movement she had climbed on top of it placing the bottle beside her. Her legs swung back and forth as the heel on her boots pounded against the crate in a staccato rhythm.

Michael glared at her hoping she would stop making the infernal noise. But she only smirked defiantly.

He got up off the floor and dusted off his charcoal slacks. He walked towards her; his usual ghost like steps replaced by the loud scrapping of his rubber soles against the concrete flooring. Nikita’s eyes widen as he placed his palms flat up against the back wall caging her in.

Having his face only inches from his own she saw the visible mark of exhaustion displayed across his handsome features. His usual emerald gleam was covered by a green mossy hue; that was accentuated by its reddish outline. His forehead was partly covered by the tight stress lines that ran frantically from one side of his temple to the other. The man who had always looked refined and self-assured now appeared weathered beaten and confused.

"What do you want?" She asked leaning her head back against the wall appearing unaffected by his invasion of her personal space.

He didn’t answer but his eyes pleaded insistently she would reconsider her decision.

"You." He finally answered breathlessly.

"Are you sure? Or is it that I am no longer eating from the palm of your hand? Maybe the so called pain you been feeling is just your ego deflating."

He had to suppress a smile. There was something about her sassy response that resurfaced memories of their early training days. She had come a long way from the loud mouth, uncouth street urchin that Section had picked up off the streets. Once in a while it was still refreshing to see that under all her maturity, there was a spark left of the mutinous spitfire that had attracted him from the very beginning.

"Does he know you can punch with the best of them or are you only showing him the tame side of you?" He teased the corner of his lips slightly raising to reveal a sensual smile.

With one quick move she ducted her head under his outstretched elbow trying to escape, but he caught her neck in the crook of his bicep.

She reprimanded herself for not anticipating his move. If it he had been a target, by now she would have had him begging for mercy.

What was it about him that made her forget her hand to hand combat training every time she had come up against him? Angrily, she resorted to dirty tactics, ramming her heel into his foot, making him grunt loudly, as he released his iron grip.

In a lightning fast motion he secured his foot around her ankle giving it a powerful yank. He stood back watching her flailing arms as she struggled to regain control. Just seconds before her body could graze the floor; he reached out catching her in his powerful arms.

"The extracurricular activities are making you loose your concentration." He whispered in her ear as he carried her back to the crate. He sat her down gently like a porcelain doll ready for exhibition.

How ironic, it was he who had caused the shift in their power struggle, and he was too blinded by jealousy to see it. If he wanted to blame someone else for his paralyzing effect on her, that was his problem. She would not lift a finger to convince him otherwise.

Nikita gave him a taunting smile stretching out the painful kink on her back, "Yeah, I guess I have been kind of neglecting my Section workouts… All work and no play can be a drag. Frankly Michael, I cant understand how you allow your whole life to revolve around this place, Ugh."

He touched her hair slightly, running his lean fingers across its soft texture. He was curious to find out if his touch could still cause her pulse to accelerate. He took her wrist in his hand and with his other hand caressed her cheekbone.

She freed her hand quickly noticing his intense concentration. He was trying to gage her biochemical response like he had been trained to do! Oh no you don’t, she thought controlling her breathing. I won’t be an open book for you any longer. She removed her wrist stopping him from making lazy circles with his fingers on her sensitive skin. Let’s just see how long you can keep the mask on this time, tough guy.

Her velvet eyes fell heavy on his constricted lip line. She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Under his olive shirt she could hear his heart beat increase rapidly. He nuzzled her hair with his nose taking in the familiar scent of her shampoo. She toyed with her long fingernails brushing them up and down his arm. It had been a long time since they had been so close. She knew she had to stop it soon or she would loose herself in the moment and forget her objective, but he was habit forming.

It was not Nikita who first pulled away. He had beaten her to it, leaving her to longing for her fix.

Michael paced around the room camouflaging his pain with a confidant strut. He was keenly aware of her inquisitive eyes following his every move. He wanted to run away, to escape the gnawing emptiness inside. His soul thundered with the fear of loosing her but his exterior was calm as a dead man’s bluff.

"Are you sleeping with him?" He asked spewing the words out of his mouth like a venomous substance.

Nikita was taken back by the force of his delivery. For a moment she toyed with the idea of answering yes, but she was not fond of lying even when it suited her. Lies reminded her too much of Sections’ code of ethics and she would not be the one to promote it any further.

"Please Michael, what do you care who I sleep with? It wouldn’t bother you in the least if I slept with every operative on the directory if it benefited Section somehow!"

He put his hands behind his back and stood military style before her. His piercing eyes narrowed like slits of cold steel slicing through her paper-thin armor.

"Is that what you think? Just how do you think a woman with your looks has been able to remain just a cold op for this long?"

"Lucky I guess." She answered with a cocky attitude.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I have played interference on your behalf with Madeline more times than I care to remember. If it had been up to our superiors, you would be a full time Valentine Operative. They saw your potential for more because I pointed it out to them." He reminded her coldly.

He looked her over like a piece of valuable merchandise. "By now you would be have been a veteran Valentine Op, sampled by all. As you know the word "no" is not acceptable."

A runaway tear ran down her cheeks. She cleaned it off with the back of her sleeve. She jumped off the crate picking up the wine bottle and uncorked it. She drank noisily gulping down the remainder of the bitter tonic. She wanted to get drunk, to become so intoxicated she could no longer be reminded of the harsh realities of the place that dominated her life.

"What about Karl Peruse?" She said counteracting his earlier verbal attack.

"I didn’t see you flinch once when you gave me the disk. How could you stand there, knowing the feelings I had solely for you where being transferred onto another man?" She glared at him with burning reproach.

"I felt the same love for that terrorist that I had for you, you stupid idiot!" She cried freely telling herself it didn’t matter she was destroying the image of the "tough as nails" operative she had worked so hard to achieve.

"Not even that was enough to make you drop the act."

Michael longed to shake her. Why couldn’t she understand? Every day of that mission had been agony for him. The torture of knowing she was loving someone else with the same passion and dedication she had loved him in Lyons, had been enough to cause him to violently lash against the punching bag in the workout room, until he had knocked it from it’s perch. It would have been enough to cause him to go on a killing rampage and wipe out every breathing human being within the walls of Section, but what was not enough or ever could be, was the thought of the danger any insurrection on his part would put her in. He had to protect her and the only way he knew how was to play the "golden boy" until he could secure his position as upper management.

"It was beyond my control…… I’m sorry." That superficial response had been the only thing he could say without being sucked under by the emotional whirlpool threatening to engulf him.

Nikita threw the bottle furiously against the wall. Droplets of wine sprinkled on Michael as he crouched down to avoid the flying fragmented pieces that shot through the air like ice missiles.

"I am sick and tired of your apologies, they mean nothing to me. I have finally found a man who does not have to hide behind ridiculous excuses and who doesn’t have to be constantly apologizing for "protecting me…so you can consider yourself out of a job Michael!"

She stormed out of the room, running blindly through the darken corridor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Nikita what were you doing in Level 9?" asked the young man with the soulful eyes.

She sat on the office chair propelling her feet from side to side. As the chair swirled with the momentum she closed her eyes, enjoying the dizzying effect.

"You keep pulling stunts like that and they will haul your butt into the white room honey…I don’t want them to hurt you."

"Oh Drew, stop getting all bend out of shape, I have been bumping heads with Operations and Madeline way before you came into the picture…and I am still here."

He kneeled before her stopping the chair in mid fling. "Niki, you had protection from the top dog himself… I love you but I don’t have his ranking." He explained with an azure gaze that matched her own.

Nikita took his head into her hands and caressed his light brown locks.

Andrew Fuentes was handsome in a different way than Michael. He was a few inches shorter with a heavy muscle mass that he had adequately built up through the years as a Boxing instructor. He sported his straight hair shorter than Michael’s and only one wayward strand fell sheepishly across his forehead. He had a youthful look about him and when he smiled two very well defined dimples appeared besides his high cheekbones.

"You don’t need his ranking, and as for me I am capable of defending myself… want me to prove it to you?" She chuckled raising up her fist to him playfully in an attempt to erase the uncomfortable memory left from her earlier encounter.

He got up and sat on the edge of his desk holding both of his palms up. "No I take your word for it… I have to stay healthy if I want to teach my next class, ….then if your not busy late, we can grab a bite."

Nikita raised herself out of her seat and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Never too busy for you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael luminous figure appeared in front of Birkoff making him jump inside his skin. Today the head team leader had a look of pure despondency, but in the depth of his cold eyes was a ranging volcano ready to erupt.

"Are there new updates on any personnel files I should know about?" He whispered nonchalantly knowing the computer whiz kid would not dare question his authority.

Birkoff typed in a few codes and pulled up the directory. Instinctively he typed in the serial number of the new Boxing instructor and pulled up his file onto the screen.

"It has not been updated since the last time you asked. Do you still want me to download it for you?"

"Yes… any attachments, surveillance reports whatever you have on him I want it."

"And Birkoff…"

"Yes Michael?"

"Don’t even think about telling her." He warned, squeezing his shoulder tight enough to provide the young man tangible proof of his threat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Birkoff waited till his nemesis was clearly out of sight then he removed the disk from the drive and made his way to Walter’s workstation.

"Psss Walter, I gotta talk to you." He whispered to the old man fiddling with a tracking device.

Walter lifted his head and nodded slightly, "Er Birkoff I need you to take a look at the arsenal report I’m running, I think it’s got a few glitches." He said leading him into his supply room, where he was sure no cameras had been set up since his last sweep of the room.

Once inside Walter placed his finger on his lips and signaled him to a small area where he kept the most sensitive equipment.

The old man pulled out a chair and sat down, he rubbed the beads of perspiration from his wrinkly forehead with a handkerchief.

"I have been working on this signal tracker all day. The codes were messed up and I can’t trace the signature … If I don’t get it up and running, Operations is going to want a full report and I am too busy to be playing his freakin secretary, you know what I mean?" He grumbled in sheer frustration.

"Yeah well we got bigger problems….. Michael has been asking me for the file on that guy Nikita has the hots for… this time his warning almost dislocated my shoulder." Birkoff whined rubbing the sore spot.

"What ‘s the big deal? Just keep giving him whatever he wants. Is not the time to go making waves Birkoff." Walter warned.

"Sure that’s easy for you to say, and what happens when Nikita finds out? She’s going to come looking for me… and I don’t wanna any trouble with that chick."

"Let me handle Sugar… you just keep Michael happy."

Birkoff sneezed and wiped his stuffy nose. Walter knew it was not Allergies that affected the genus’s sinuses, but the fear of an impending whooping.

Walter patted his arm, "Take a chill man, keep feeding Michael the information, soon enough he will be the one running this joint. Who knows; he may be appreciative enough to promote your wimpy butt to Supervisor of Data Hell and that my friend will give you free access to the highest security clearance any runny nose kid like you has ever seen."

Birkoff ‘s eyes grew wild with anticipation. A look of pure ecstasy washed over his alarmed expression. "Okay… thanks Walter."

Walter stopped him blocking his way with the signal tracker.

"If you find anything explosive in Fuentes’ files, bring it to me first. We don’t want to give Michael any more ammunition. He’s walking around with barrel full of rounds just waiting for an excuse to pop the boxer’s belly full of lead… got my drift?"

"Oh yeah he’s trigger happy all right… But man can you blame him?" He said staring dreamily into space.

Walter laughed, "Give it up kid, Mark my words, Sugar’s still got Samuelle’s signature all over her."

Birkoff removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt as he exited the supply room. Since he did not see where he was going he slammed right into Nikita.

"Hiya Birky… you been working out lately?" She teased as the young genius’s cheeks turn bright red

He moved back allowing her free passage to the room. The flirtatious blonde giggled swaying her hips from side to side as she made her way toward Walter’s table turning slightly to blow him a kiss.

Walter shook his head as the flabbergasted kid shuffled quickly from their view.

"Sugar, one of these days your gonna cause that kid to bust something. You shameless hussy… hop up here and show me some of those moves." He said patting the top of the table.

"I’ll have to take a rain check Walter, I have a date."

"Monsieur Michael I presume?" He questioned not giving away that he knew Michael had put the brakes on their dating months ago.

"That’s history Walter, oops, I meant to say fiction."

She picked up a newly designed automatic machine gun from the workbench and lifted it up. She closed one eye and took aim. "Not bad,…. Yeah, you can equate our relationship to some boring fictional drama… and I am tired playing the tear jerker. Can I take this on my next mission? I like the way it handles."

Walter saw Michael walking across the hall and decided it was best to remove the weapon from her hands.

She smiled, "Don’t worry Walter, I haven’t started my hit list yet."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Close to six in the afternoon, Nikita met up with Andrew at the egress. He had made reservations for them at Pepitos.

It was a quaint little establishment hidden in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the largest Metropolis in Europe. Pepitos, had been the new couple’s stomping ground from the very beginning. Andrew had made it a point early in their courtship to introduce her palate to his homeland’s savory Cuban cuisine. Ever since then, the charming restaurant depicting colorful oil paintings of breathtaking views of Varadero Beach and the busy streets of Habana, had become Nikita’s favorite hangout.

After the mission to flush out the mole Red Cell had infiltrated into Section’s upper management, Nikita and Michael’s relationship had dampen. She had told him straight out that she wanted more than a casual relationship, but instead of taking her in his arm and providing the answer she longed for, all he had done was to regretfully toast with his wineglass to what could have been.

Days after the incident at her apartment, Michael dove headfirst into his work. The moments he would steal during the course of the day, to speak to her, to corner her against a wall in an empty corridor and kiss his soul mate had become non-existent. Even the subtle brushes against the softness of her skin as he passed by on his way to his office had ceased.

On those empty days and lonely nights, Nikita wandered aimlessly through a valley of tears. Finally she had accepted the fact that Michael was incapable of reaching the level of emotional disarmament than would take their relationship into the next step.

During the cold spell, she had been hesitant to even think of dating anyone else for fear Michael would retaliate. However, when she had finally gathered up the nerve to ask him "how would he feel if she started dating other men," he had remained painfully calm. In his usual "Section machine" mode, he had gifted her with one of his infamous empathetic stares and simply added, "Are you sure you want to do that?" Infuriated by the lack of emotion in his response, she swore to herself that she would accept the first invitation that came her way.

Nikita had stumbled across Andrew for the first time in a Section One Kick Boxing session geared to reduce stress and sculpt a firmer body image. Birkoff and the rest of the computer Mongrels had been attending the workouts and their bodies where beginning to show the fruit of their labor. Gail, Patty and even Hellinger had toner arm muscles and Birkoff was looking more like he could defend himself if seriously provoked. There had been some talk that Madeline had requested the new instructor to giver her private lessons. The whole scenario had bee a just ploy orchestrated by Mr. Hellinger to gain favoritism with Operations. However, needing to shed off the extra pounds she had gained from indulging in high calorie deserts, she signed up for the class to find out what the hype was all about.

The relationship with Andrew did not come with the same kind of chemistry that her and Michael had shared from day one. It was more of a gradual appreciation of each other’s physical and well as emotional attributes. Andrew’s casual touch did not send her senses spiraling into an uncontrollable frenzy like Michael’s did. But unlike her glacier lover, Andrew was more willing to openly express his feelings for her. That quality alone had been the deciding vote that gave Nikita the strength to keep seeing her quest even if it meant tearing whatever was left of her and Michael’s amorous relationship.

It had taken only a few months for Nikita to learn to value of the courteous, romantic man that catered to her every whim. He is so easy to like, she told herself as he took her hand and opened the door to his inexpensive but functional blue Toyota Camry.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Volares was jumping. There was a thick atmosphere of movers and shakers that extended out from under the strobe light in the dance floor to the over crowded glass bar. Lots of influential people Nikita recognized as past targets or major players in the political arena were scattered throughout the place. She smirked to herself thinking if she was not on down time, she would have a blast kicking some well-deserved backsides. She took the blue frothy drink in her hand and lifted up to her lips. Flashbacks of Petrosian and the night she had commanded Michael to meet her in the same spot where she was seated began their haunting.

"Am I under orders to please you?" The memory resonated in her ears making her sigh slightly. To her favor, Andrew interpreted her cue as boredom instead of regret. He pulled her closer to him and started weaving a comical story around them. Before long she was lost in the details of the plot and had nearly forgotten what ailed her.

They sat in the bar laughing. Andrew had a sense of humor that made her ribs ache. He was a comedian, making fun of anyone or anything that passed their way.

Then it happened, as Andrew was telling her what he really thought of the red headed woman with the short bald man next to her where doing together, she saw him.

Dangerously handsome he stood across the dance floor, his green emerald eyes scanning over the place for any sign of trouble. He wore his customary black suit, but he had complemented it with a sea foam green, knit shirt she had never seen before. His short hair was combed back neatly and he wore a solid gold chain around his neck with a small cross. The same cross she had given him three Easter’s ago.

Nikita toyed with the idea maybe he was there on a mission, but she had to correct herself knowing they seldom sent him on missions anymore. No, Operations and Madeline had made the heir to the throne a permanent fixture inside Section’s highly secured walls and only parted from him for dire emergencies.

Michael had accepted the role of Head Strategist and Senior Tactical Director with open arms. Perhaps he had made the decision that when he was given full reign of Section, it would be more practical to run it without her as his "Second in Command." Maybe, it was his way of not having his future position compromised by an emotional attachment that often had clouded his judgment.

The blonde operative’s head throbbed from speculating. It does not matter anymore, she assured herself as Andrew escorted her to the dance floor.

Michael’s eyes followed the curve of her arms as she wrapped them around the neck of the new man in her life. He wanted to pummel his charismatic grin into the ground and take back what could only belong to him, his "Kita." Merde, who does he think he is putting his grubby little hands on my woman? He asked himself as he witnessed the man slide his hand around the curves of her hips, burying his boyish face in his angel’s hair.

Stop touching her! Michael was beyond himself. He always had been fully capable of enduring any physical and mental torture. It did not matter what criminally insane procedures where used on him or what level of pain was inflicted, he had always been able to control the situation and ride it out victoriously. Now his only hope was some unknown entity would pull the trigger and end his misery.

He chose to go to sit at the bar, roughly ordering a stiff drink in hopes of somewhat dulling his senses. For the first time he did not care he was surrounded by possible hit men and women who had a thirst for his Section stained blood. He had walked into the lion’s lair prepared for any hostile activity, but now he had become as vulnerable as wounded prey. Why on God’s earth had she chosen to come here? Is she paying me back for all the times I have lied to her? Could she really be in love with that clown?

A thin brunette with extraordinary hazel eyes winked at him.

"And I thought all the good men were taken?"

"They are." He answered stiffly trying to stay focus on the couple glued together swaying to the romantic instrumental piece.

The brunette twisted her red lips into a mocking smile," It does not look to me like she is going to let go of him any time soon."

She tilted his chin to face her, "Let’s dance, maybe you can entice her a little, besides that kid does not look like he could be any serious competition in your neck of the woods."

Michael led the shapely woman to the dance floor. He threw her arm around his neck and swayed rhythmically to the music.

Nikita opened her blue eyes to find a very smitten looking Michael falling slowly into the black widow’s web. She gulped back the tears realizing it was she who had started the web of deceit. It was only fair that he would find someone to replace her, but it was too soon. She had not been given enough time to completely rip him out of her heart.

Andrew noticed her body becoming rigid in his arms. He opened his eyes and became aware of the problem. The valiant man locked his brown eyes onto the Dark Angel’s icy orbs. In the depth of the jade iris he saw something that made his skin crawl. Hatred. A wild uncontrollable desire to annihilate his adversary. Having heard all kinds of vicious rumors about the potentially lethal creature, he was concerned. But unless Nikita herself would tell him it was over between them, he would not back away from any challenge the deadly operative would throw his way.

Andrew had known pretty boys back in his high school days that stringed the girls along promising them the moon, but never quite delivering. If that was what Michael was intending to do with the sweet young operative tonight, he was cruising for a lesson in how to treat women. To Andrew did not matter if he ended up in Medlab or comatose, what mattered was that he could get a least one good punch in that would deliver the message, that he could not be easily bullied.

The little he had learned about Michael told him he would have to deal with him like he had dealt in the past with the Mafia. The Mafiosos had evaded his childhood neighborhood, terrorizing Spanish families and creating dissension among his own Boxing buddies. Just like it had been detrimental back then to gain access to the "Don," now it would be just as critical to earn the respect of Section One’s famous ring leader. Only then would he deem him worthy enough to pay heed to anything he had to say.

Nikita feigned a yawn watching Michael run his fingers through the short curls of the girl, copying the movements Andrew had just done. If he wanted to make her jealous it was working, but she would rather spend a day under the hands of the torture twins than to admit to it.

So they went on each trying to out do each other. Nikita kissed Andrew and Michael kissed the mystery woman in his arms. They gave each other looks and used their partners as pawns in a chess match, until she had left him no choice but to call it quits.

He dropped his hands from the vixen he was holding and tapped the blonde on her shoulder.

"We need to talk."

Andrew scowled but didn’t interfere; instead he anxiously waited to see what steps his lovely companion would take to get the creep off her back.

"Haven’t we said it all?" She answered letting go of Andrew’s neck.

"No." He took a deep breath, "Please K-i-t-a."

The barrier she had set up came crumbling to the ground. She excused herself from the annoyed looking man and followed Michael to a quiet table in an obscure corner of the place.

"Please sit down." He instructed pulling out a chair for her.

"I am not staying, in case you didn’t notice I’m with someone."

Michael sat down opening the lower button of his jacket. He called over the waitress and ordered them a bottle of white wine.

"They can wait."

"Well maybe the little trained seal will wait for you, but Drew isn’t into games."

"Please sit down, people are beginning to stare." He said spacing out his words evenly.

Nikita placed her hands on her hips and smiled sarcastically, "Since when does Section’s top gun care about what other’s think of him?"

"Are we having a identity crisis, "AGAIN" Michael?" She said in a loud voice as she slid into the chair across from him.

He didn’t answer. He was too busy admiring how incredibly beautiful she was. The shade of her red dress added a touch of blush to her creamy complexion. Her hair was down just as he preferred it, tousled around her shoulders in golden ringlets. He missed her so much it was almost painful to touch her hand.

"Don’t." She said pulling away like a child that had touched a hot stove.

"I have missed you."

"Really? I find that hard to believe, you seemed very content running reports and playing Supervisor."

"We had to slow it down Nikita…. It was affecting my performance." He admitted, a shadow of annoyance crossing his face.

She looked around to escape his stare. She unconsciously inspected the dark hair young man sitting on the bar watching them. Oh Great, just what I needed tonight, Section’s resident blabbermouth on the prowl.

Michael gave her a conspiring wink; he had seen the snitch. He reassured her providing warmth that radiated from his relaxed body language. She smiled leaning casually her elbow on the table. He had a way of making the most distressing situations seem as natural as a walk in the park on a breezy afternoon.

"Why is it every time our relationship flourishes you have to switch to emotional starvation mode?" She said pouting like a spoiled child.

"That’s why I like Drew he’s always up front with me and I am not a liability for him." She explained, changing her expression to pure glee.

Michael’s eyes flickered; he dislike hearing her call him "Drew." It was a nickname, something you call a person you know well. In all their years together Nikita had never called him Mike, Mickey, Mick, no caring endearments, always flat out Michael.

Nikita shifted her weight on the chair. The intensity of his piercing malachite gaze was giving her a familiar dose of goose pimples that made her shiver under the soft chiffon clinging to her body.

"Andrew is a paid employee, he was hired only to serve as a Boxing trainer and his actions cannot cause anyone their lives. He can afford to be out of range, I cannot." He explained briefly.

"Are you cold?" Michael added, getting ready to remove his jacket.

"No, So let me get this straight you ignored me in an attempt to clear your mind?" She asked, suddenly amused by the whole conversation.

"Oui, Kita as usual I find myself apologizing… but this time it was not Section’s doing….. I know you have heard this before but I never meant to hurt you…. I never wanted to end it….. I ….." He explained trying to contain the emotions thrashing inside the empty cavern of his heart.

Nikita reached over and took his hand, "I love you Michael but I can’t do this anymore…. With Drew I have a chance to be happy, he loves me unconditionally."

Tears fell into the glass mixing with the white wine she was drinking. She swallowed hard, washing away the sobs choking her.

"Do you love him?" He asked in an icy tone, trying to prepare himself for the blow that would send him teetering to the edge of oblivion.

She shook her head, "As hard as I try, I just can’t be like you, I am not a good liar, all the training in the world won’t change that …No I don’t love him…." She bit her lip nervously, battling with the notion of leaving it alone, but she knew for her own sake she had to destroy any ember of hope that could rekindle the fire between them.

"If given the chance, I could fall in love with him…. he makes it so…. easy."

She closed her eyes unable to look at him anymore. Say it, just get it over with.

"Please Michael… let me go." She begged her voice hardly audible against the blaring music playing in the background.

He was the one now being threatened by the batch of fresh tears accumulating in his tear ducts. He sniffed holding them at bay.

His curled fingers came systematically up to her cheek. It was a gesture he used whenever words had failed him. She didn’t pull away instead she remained still allowing herself one last indulgence.

"Let me go." She repeated mesmerized by the stroking of his fingers upon her cheekbone.

"Let me go… let… me… g.."

Her words were cut short by the pressure of his lips upon her own. No one could ever taste sweeter. She basked in the moment not wanting to break the romantic spell. Dam him, he was not playing fair, he is using every tactic he knows… he‘s wearing me down… She thought lost in his sultry bedroom eyes.

"Without you my life is meaningless, how can I let you go? Is like asking me to stop breathing… impossible." He murmured against her quivering mouth.

"Dam it Michael, just stop!" She screamed shoving him back into his seat.

She bolted and ran stumbling across tables and chairs as the hot tears blinded her path. She had to escape before she would fall back into his arms and destroy how far she had come. It had taken her many grueling nights of tossing and turning, to get to where she was and she would not be stupid enough to throw it all away on a kiss.

Drew caught up with her, quickly leading her to an empty sofa where they could talk. He took out a handkerchief and blotted her tear stained face. He gently removed the black smudges of mascara under her eyes.

"You make a very pretty raccoon Niki." He teased trying to provide comic relief.

But there was no way to make her laugh now. Whatever had happened behind the large potted fern that had blocked his view; had torn her apart.

He massaged her shoulders in an effort to rub away all the pressure she had build up in her tense muscles, but Nikita was oblivious to his ministrations.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. The rhythm of the array of voices against musical backdrop had ceased. It was as if everyone had suddenly frozen in time and all that she could see moving in a distance was Michael’s unforgettable figure advancing toward her.

"Take me home NOW!" She ordered in high pitch desperation.

They moved rapidly, fading into the crowd until they reached the exit. When they reached the door she felt the recognizable pressure of his fingers scorching her back. She turned and faced him.

What he saw reflected in her sapphire eyes made him release her immediately. Pain. Pain so deep and raw that had escalated into a degree beyond human endurance.

He had seen her before crying out from overwhelming pain. During the mission where Red Cell had conditioned the rats to scratch her face he had seen the pain echoed in her frantic screams. During the strenuous workouts he forced her to endure as her trainer, he had witnessed her physical pain. Manifested in her eyes he had seen on countless occasion the pain of his betrayals, but nothing could have prepared for what he saw now.

Nikita was in cold blood amputating her heart right before him, and he could not stand to watch her torture herself any longer. So he stood in the shadow watching her escape into the chill of the night like a blind man’s illusive vision.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael pulled out of the driveway. He rarely liked using this mode of transportation. He preferred feeling the power of his bike as he coiled speedily through the curves of the busy streets, but because of the windy rain, he had opted earlier that evening to follow Nikita to Volare’s in a vehicle that protected his immaculate appearance. Now cramped up in his sporty vehicle the voice of his beloved cried out to him through the lyrics of the song playing on the radio.

I’ve been standing out in the rain,
I’ve been calling out your name
I’ve been having that cold feeling again,
Calling out your name

Do you hear me?
Do you want me?

Baby is all or nothing now,
Don’t wanna run but I can’t walk out
You’re breaking my heart if you leave me now,
Don’t wanna wait forever,

Who do you think your fooling?
Who do you think your fooling?

I have been trying to get to your heart
But I am chasing shadows
We keep falling further apart
So near and yet so far,

Do you care now?
Do you know how?

Sometimes when you touch me…
I just can’t help myself… the sight
of you makes me weak

Baby is all or nothing now,
Don’t wanna run but I can’t walk out
You’re breaking my heart if you leave me now,
Don’t wanna wait forever,

He shut off the radio, shifted to second and speeded back to the solitude of his loft. He took the key out of the ignition and made his way inside his home. Not bothering to remove his shoes, he crashed on his bed weary from the fight. "Hold on Kita, don’t give up on us yet!" He cried out loud into the darkness of the empty room…Curling his body like a small lost child he fell asleep calling out her name.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On top of the observation deck, Operations and Madeline where conferring.

"How is the situation with Red Cell?" Operations inquired still keeping a close eye on his successor’s protégéé.

Madeline smiled, "I have the confidence Michael will handle it successfully, once we hand the mole enough rope he will eventually he hang himself."

"Good. Keep me inform of any unauthorized changes in the profile." Operations said lighting his cigar.

Nikita walked passed the hub of Section. There was a commotion of black clad operatives hanging around Birkoff’s terminal.

The moment she reached the group, an eerie silence filled the air. The operatives all gawked at her like some circus oddity. The female operatives gave her puzzled looks and the males, sported silly grins on their faces. She roughly pushed each one out of the way, making her way into the middle of the huddle. Sitting in Birkoff’s seat was the answer to all her mysteries.

Hellinger smiled lasciviously, checking out the blonde woman wearing the curve hugging black body suit. He gave her a frown noticing the sweatshirt that was tied around her middle blocking the view of her most dangerous curves.

Nikita did not allow him time to think. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and jerked him up.

"Come with me." She ordered. When he refused she twisted his arm behind him and pushed his squirming body forward.

Operations, was about to interrupt the unauthorized coercion, but Madeline stopped him. She assured him Nikita’s aggressive behavior was a normal reaction conditioned by the parameters of the profile they had created.

"It’s to our advantage Nikita is still living up to her psyche profile… Her maturity level has improved but where her heart is concerned she still lacks finesse." She told him.

Nikita dragged the young man kicking and screaming all the way down the hall to an empty room.

With a merciless shove she sent his youthful frame sprawling to the floor.

"You’ve been blabbing again Hellinger, this time I am going to ask once."

Her white athletic shoes squeaked noisily with each step she took. She stood in front of him; a look of pure disgust crossed her face as she watched him wiped off the blood from the laceration he had received in his upper lip when he had hit the hard floor.

"I am waiting." She said tapping her foot impatiently just inches from his face.

"No..nothing… just that you and Michael were... er…"

She grabbed him again, ready to strike him.

"Hey man, call her off!" Hellinger said to the dark figure leaning on the open door.

Nikita looked up and saw Michael‘s wry grin peeking from beneath the cold veneer.

"Nikita when you are finished, we have a brief." He ordered pragmatically before disappearing down the hall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nikita noticed this was not a typical briefing there was no one in the room but Birkoff, Madeline, Michael and herself.

"We have no backup team for this mission?" Nikita asked Michael in a low voice.

"They’ve been debriefed." He answered.

Operations checked his watch, "Were in the hell is she?" He growled to Madeline who in turn, smiled back twisting her chair to face the female operative entering the room.

Nikita’s jaw dropped slightly as she saw the dark curly hair woman with expressive dark eyes grab the chair across from her.

"Good now that we are all here, we can begin."

"This is Benito Capellio, a.k.a. "The Chameleon"." Operations explained switching on the hologram image of a dark bearded man with wire spectacles.

"This man is runs a Red Cell splinter group called "Preschool Mutants" made up of young teenagers who are trained to infiltrate the high schools and perform terrorist activities. He is capable of taking on the identity of any number of individuals from an average citizen to a Section operative."

Birkoff pushed his glasses up his nose. "Your P.D.A.’s have been updated with the most recent identities he has assumed in the past four months. Outside sources indicate he is approximately thirty years of age and may be of Hispanic origin but that has not been confirmed."

"So basically we have nothing concrete to go on." Nikita surmised.

"He was spotted not far from Section headquarters yesterday." Birkoff added trying to be helpful.

Nikita yawned and propped her head on her elbow. The little sleep she had been able to catch last night was making her nod off and on.

"You leave in forty eight hours." Operations said pressing the off button on the remote. "That will be all."

"Nikita, Athena and Michael meet me in my office in fifteen." Madeline said as the operatives were standing up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the three operatives where all gathered in her office. Madeline began putting pieces of the puzzle together for them. She explained Athena was a level 3 operative from a substation that had been transferred for the purpose of helping out on the field and who had served in the outside world as a licensed psychologist before being recruited. Do to the nature of this mission and the psychopath involved, Athena was the perfect candidate to infiltrate the High School as a Counselor and sift out the students to determine who had a possible involvement with the target.

"Nikita, study your P.D.A and make sure you secure your role to a degree that will provide intrigue without suspicion." Madeline cautioned her, "The Intel though vague, indicates he is very fond of tall blondes."

Nikita grimaced, "Do I have to seduce him?"

"Only if you find it beneficial to enhance his trust." Madeline replied sipping her tea.

Michael objected bluntly, "Sleeping with him is not part of the profile."

Athena filed her nails watching the scene between the two star-crossed lovers play out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nikita jiggled the key to her apartment and the door wide open. The dark hair woman walked into her sanctuary. She looked around the place taking in the asymmetrical designs on the wall and the eclectic furniture scattered throughout the area. She picked up a silver vase that held orange hand blown glass tulips and mused.

"I have never seen one of these, tell me did you purchase it at a,…. oh what do you call those?, ah yes, a… flea mart?" She said dusting off the wooden bookcase with her fingertips.

It was obvious that Athena came from old money. There was an aura of aristocracy in the way the petite woman handled herself that grated on Nikita’s last nerve.

"Yeah, I guess they give operatives where you come from a bigger allowance. Sorry but you won’t be seeing any prints left over from the Louvre in here unless you want to contribute your own masterpieces." Nikita quipped tartly.

"Oh by the way, the rent is due tomorrow." She informed her dropping the operatives extra baggage in the middle of the floor.

"Oh this is simply divine, have you been to the orient?" Athena babbled on lifting the magnificent hand painted Geisha from its stand.

"No, a friend bought it for me last time he was in Japan."

Suddenly her eyes flickered, "It was Michael was it not?"

"I really should call him to tell him I have settled in just fine… the poor dear was tying himself in knots worried we would not get along… I must ask Madeline for his schedule, it really is impossible to get a hold of him… Do you find it difficult to keep abreast of his affairs?"

Nikita could hardly resist the urge to cut off the oxygen to her windpipe. If she had to listen one more minute to her high-society, heavily accented perfectionist jargon, she was sure the woman would be toast.

Nikita took advantage of her non-stop prattling to escape to the solitude of her bedroom.

She kicked off her black boots and threw on a pair of faded jogging pants. She stripped her bed throwing the unwashed bedding on the floor. As she climbed onto the naked mattress, she made a mental note that she would replace the bed linens as soon as she finished taking a catnap.

Her arm came over her eyes, shielding her from the fading sunlight slipping through the white gauzy curtains.

Since when did Section need more than twenty-four hour to find residence for their operatives? Why in the hell had Michael insisted that Athena bunk with her? There was nothing in common between them. Madeline also seemed to regard the Newbie in higher standards than customary. Was she really just another run of the mill operative that happened to fit the bill for the upcoming mission or was she being groomed for a higher purpose?

Nikita tried to shut out the thoughts that were running like lightning bolts through her cluttered mind, but it was useless.

Athena was a thoroughbred, the type of woman Michael would have been easily attracted to, if he had never committed the crime that sentenced him to a life in Section. The little she knew about Michael’s past led her to believe that he would have been an influential aristocrat himself, perhaps an heir to a large inheritance. A man destined for greatness in the real world. So now that she was out of the picture, was Section trying to find him a suitable partner, someone that could share the leadership role he was aiming for? Someone with more class, less argumentative and more willing to accept the scraps of love he would toss her without demanding more? Was the beautiful intelligent doll Section bait?

"Mind if I have some? I am awfully thirsty." The striking beauty questioned uncorking the bottle of wine she had in her hand.

"Suit yourself, the bathroom is down the hall and you can put some of your things in the entrance closet until I can clear a drawer for you in here." Nikita said covering her head with the pillow.

"You have a lovely little flat, I think you are very lucky to have someone like Michael tending to your every little whim… Did he buy the wine as well? It is simply delicious." She said licking her lips dry.

"Michael was my trainer, that is all! As for my whims they are no body’s dam business."

The dark locks on her head bounced as she flopped down on the bed besides her. "I was told you two were in love with each other….What ever happened to make you crazy enough to set free a man like that?"

Nikita was becoming quickly disturbed by her blatant disregard for her space. With a quick push of her hip she send her flying off the mattress.

The woman seethed, she lifted herself off the floor and rubbed her sore bottom. "Why the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"Here is a news flash for you, you are sleeping on the sofa." She said enjoying instant gratification.

The humiliated young woman limped out of the room slowly.

That wimp is no Section Operative! Nikita realized dragging herself out of bed. Sleep would be out of the question, until she had made amends with her charge. She picked out some clean rose print white sheets and a blanket and went to offer a peace treaty to the innocent civilian Michael had pawned off on her.

"Well how do you like that, I come to apologize against my better judgment to find you snoring away."

She lifted the woman’s thin hand that was hanging off the sofa, and tucked it under the blanket she had covered her with.

"For your sake I hope you never find out how lonely loving an operative can be." She whispered watching the woman’s peaceful face.

Nikita settled the wineglass on her lap and finished writing in the last entry in her journal. She pulled out the fake brick on her wall and stuffed the small book inside the secret compartment. She would get some sleep tonight even if it were alcohol induced. After drinking the last drop, her vision started to fade in and out. Oh man I have been drugged! She realized fighting the overwhelming drowsiness. She leaned over the edge of the bed desperately trying to get to the cellular she kept under her mattress. As she reached stretching her stone like muscles she heard a strange buzzing sound like a dentist drill before she drifted into darkness.

End of part one...

written by Codename Elise

Continue on to Fruit on the Vine, part two

©1999 La Femme Fiction