Subject:  Chapter 2 and 3 (bad word or two) |
Author:
Cynaera
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Date Posted: 10:51:46 12/21/01 Fri
In reply to:
Cynaera
's message, "P.J." on 16:13:05 12/20/01 Thu
Chapter Two
Michael and Nikita listened to the cassette in silence, their expressions unitedly mystified at first, then wishboning as Nikita began to feel sympathy and Michael, cynicism. They'd been tracking the signal of a hacker who'd somehow managed to get into even the triple-level encrypted files of Section One. With Birkoff's help, they'd narrowed it down and finally had pinpointed it.
Given the location of the transmission, the profile had been to secure the target, blow up the site, and return to Section. The complication had been the fact that the target hadn't been on site - he'd fooled Section's surveillance and had slipped out of their grasp, leaving only a tape and a taunt.
Now, as they stood in the bedroom of the seemingly-invisible cyber-wunderkind, their thoughts converged once more. "We've gotta find that kid," Nikita breathed, and Michael had silently agreed, though he'd known their reasons for wanting to have the boy in their custody were different. Nikita wanted to save him - Michael wanted to use him. The boy had extraordinary intelligence, and it could be beneficial to Section, if he could be brought back alive.
The problem, and it was a monumental one, was how to find the kid again. There had to be something, a clue somewhere in the dialog on the tape, an encrypted message… "We'll give the tape to Birkoff," Michael said softly. "He can take it apart and see if there's anything we can use."
Nikita nodded once in cursory acknowledgement, and they left the house with the tape. On impulse, Nikita quietly palmed another cassette, labeled "Home Movies", without Michael seeing her. She knew if Michael had questioned her about taking the tape, she would not have been able to explain her feeling about it - she never could explain her hunches - and she would have felt embarrassed and foolish even as she held onto her conviction that there was something there. Mercifully, Michael was focussed on getting the primary cassette to Systems for analysis, and he didn't see her slip the other cassette into her pocket.
~~~
At Section, Birkoff pounced on the cassette as if it were a new type of junk food with infinite possibilities. He said, distractedly, "I'll check it out. Will you be around for the next hour or two?"
"We have to debrief," Michael said in a level voice, his eyes betraying nothing of what he was thinking.
Birkoff took his response to be an affirmative, and he lowered his head, unconsciously dismissing the two cold ops standing in front of him. Anyone else would have been all-reverent in their dealings with the two top operatives in Section One - Birkoff, however, was jaded and had seen things, both in Michael's life and Nikita's, which gave him deeper insight into the two. He didn't fear for his life - he knew they would not harm him, no matter what he did. He remembered, briefly, the time Michael had uttered huskily, "If you betray me, I'll kill you." He'd known why Michael had said that, and he'd also known that of all the people in Section One, he cared most for Nikita, Walter, and Michael. He had developed a crush on Madeline, early on, but that had been quashed when he'd inadvertently seen her interrogating a young man. Birkoff shuddered inwardly as he remembered that day - she'd very deliberately sliced open the man's wrist - vertically - and had told him she was fully prepared to let him bleed to death unless he told her what she wanted to know…
Birkoff relaxed into his chair, and Michael and Nikita exchanged amused glances, then headed for their debriefing. Thus far, there was no reason to be defensive - they'd followed the profile to the letter, and the intel they'd been given had been accurate. Somehow, P.J. had eluded them. It had been expected. He was a genius kid, and for some reason, geniuskids always seemed to have to one-up everyone else.
~~~
Nikita was at Walter's station, flirting with him subtly, needing that playful, double-entendré atmosphere more than usual, but not really understanding why. Perhaps it had to do with the seriousness of the mission - the somber vocal quality of P.J. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't faking when he'd talked about cancer…
Michael touched her shoulder, startling her out of her lighthearted ambiance - she hadn't even heard him approach. He had a way of moving, catlike and silent, that Nikita knew had come from years of Section training. She wondered, briefly, if there was anything Michael couldn't do… In the next second, she answered her own supposition - "He can't have a baby!" She almost smiled at that, but smothered it when she saw the look on Michael's face.
"Birkoff's found P.J.," he said softly. "We have to go - now."
Nikita was baffled. "What kind of hardware are we taking?"
"Nothing," Michael replied neutrally.
"N-nothing?" Nikita's expression was disbelieving. It was so very UN-Section to send a team out without some kind of artillery - she began to wonder if she was in trouble again, and if this was to be a suicide mission.
Michael read her look and said softly, "Don't worry, Nikita. The target is passive. He'll come quietly."
"How do you know that?" she demanded then, her hackles rising at his obvious condescension. His next words stunned her into silence and submission.
"Because he really does have cancer. He's at County General Hospital, getting a radiation treatment."
Chapter Three
They made a macabre threesome as they left the hospital - Michael, dressed in black like death incarnate, holding one fragile arm of P.J. in a curiously tender grip; P.J., dressed in jeans and T-shirt, his eyes accepting everything; and Nikita, dressed in pastel colors like the sky and the springtime season, holding P.J.'s other arm, her eyes filled with tears. The procession was somber and reverent as they made their way to the Section van. Michael glanced over at Nikita as they walked, supporting the boy between them, and he saw tears in her eyes. His heart broke a little - he knew what she was thinking, and now, after having seen the boy first-hand, he was feeling the same. Section would take this child apart, cell by cell, and use everything he knew. Then, the entity without a face would move P.J. to some obscure part of Section, where he would live out his remaining days alone, with his meals slipped under the door…
Something inside Michael snapped, then. It didn't show outwardly - even Nikita didn't sense it, he hid it so deftly. But he knew he could not allow the dehumanizing effects of Section treatment to harm this boy, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that the child lived his last days in joy, not sorrow. He revealed nothing - it was essential that he let no one, not even Nikita, know about his decision. At least, not yet…
~~~
P.J. went willingly where he was led. There'd been no need of restraints - he was too weak and nauseous to fight - and as he was taken to Medical, Michael whispered to Nikita, "My office, now."
Nikita stared at him as he turned to leave. "But, what about debrief?" she'd been ready to ask, but the question died on her lips as Michael walked away, and she knew then that something serious was about to take place. She shrugged and followed, glancing around the corridor for anything that would reveal surveillance, a test, or a trick.
In Michael's office, she closed the door, and she watched him disable the surveillance. His expression frightened her - she'd seen the same countenance on him when she'd done something exceptionally stupid because of her conscience. Now, that look was more prominent than ever, and Nikita wondered what she'd done to deserve Michael's disfavor.
"Nikita," he began very softly, and his eyes changed from sea-green to dark emerald when he said her name. It was all a part of him, and what made him magnetic north to her internal compass. She waited, breathless, as she sat in her chair across from his desk - subordinate to employer. It was a formality they almost always seemed to observe unconsciously, each slipping into their roles easily.
Michael's voice was unnaturally gentle and strained as he spoke his next words. "We both know what Section will do to P.J."
Nikita stared into Michael's eyes, waiting to hear what else he would say. She knew what Section would do. She'd tried with all her might to accept it, because she knew now, after the debacle with Adrian, what Michael had sacrificed for her. She would not willingly put his life or integrity on the line again. She would not force him to sell a piece of his fragile soul for her again. Whatever it took, she would do it - to give him back even a fraction of what he'd given to her, for her. She knew about his long-term mission of being husband to a woman he did not love. She knew about the child who was half Michael's. She knew it all, and after she'd survived the pain and sense of betrayal, she'd risen above it and had realized what Michael had endured for the sake of the greater number - for her sake.
As she stared at him now, Nikita realized that Michael was the most noble, honorable, principled man she'd ever known in her life, and she was silently grateful that he'd been her trainer and mentor. He'd imparted valuable skills, but more than that, he'd imbued a sense of himself into her, in the way he dealt with a given situation. She'd observed him, and had learned from him, and because of his actions, she knew more about the kind of person she wanted to be…
Michael was puzzled by the softening of Nikita's features when he'd delivered his only sentence. He'd expected her to rebel - at the very least, he'd expected her to snap back at him with a heated retort. She had done neither. Instead, she was looking at him with a dreamy expression, and once again, Michael had no idea what she was thinking. She was the only woman he had ever known who could keep him totally off-balance without even realizing it.
Finally, he was forced to speak again. "Nikita - do you understand?" he asked, a little alarmed that she seemed to be so placid when the situation demanded she be defiant.
"Of course, Michael," she said tenderly. Her gentle, almost wistful tone caused Michael's resolve to slip a notch, and he felt a simultaneous wrenching in his groin and his head. She was doing it to him again, and she didn't even know it. Mon dieu! he groaned silently. Will the woman never understand?
Aloud, he said, more firmly, "Nikita, tell me what you think about this mission." He leveled his eyes to hers, braving the fire, and waited for her to speak. When she did, he was struck mute.
"All right, Michael," she said, her voice almost sing-song. "I think that Section will take P.J. and turn him into a mushroom. They'll keep him in the dark and feed him bullshit until he dies. I think you don't want that to happen to him. I don't know what your personal agenda is, but I know you have a plan to keep him from suffering. As much as you try to come across as a monster, I've seen too much to believe that anymore."
Michael was astonished. His mouth dropped open in a very un-Michael-ish mannerism, and he thought frantically, How did she do it? How did she figure out my motive, when I wasn't even sure of it? He was staring at her, his eyes lighter than they'd ever been before. He knew his eyes were changing, because he watched Nikita draw in a silent breath, her own eyes soft and dreamy.
With an effort, he pulled himself back to the mentor-trainee mode of conversation, and he watched in invisible pride as Nikita read his expression and did likewise, sitting up straighter in her chair, crossing her leg, and waiting for his next words. God, he thought, she's good… She's too good for this place…
"My personal feelings aren't relevant," he said, and tried to make his voice stern and unemotional. Nikita nodded, her eyes riveted to his. "The boy has talent. Section will want to exploit it. He's too fragile to survive that kind of interrogation. I think we can give him something better."
Nikita's eyes went wide then - she was watching Michael as if she expected him to suddenly break into song or start juggling. Is he saying what I think he's saying? she thought in amazement. His next sentence confirmed her wildest hope.
"Nikita - I need your help to shelter P.J. until he dies."
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