Pulling her car into the first available parking spot, she placed the vehicle out of gear and turned off the ignition. Taking a moment to check herself in the rear view mirror, she stopped and stared. She was always so amazed by the fact that she looked nothing like her mother. With the exception of having darker colored hair, the resemblance stopped there.

She had always assumed she looked like her father, but never knew him, so she couldn't say for sure. Opening the drivers side door, and swinging her legs out, she gazed at the old building. She always was apprehensive about her visits, and today was no exception. She had started coming to visit twice a week, and then only once a week, and then less and less often. She knew it was not right of her, but she could only force her smile and happiness so much.

She had taken on alot of responsibility when she had become the head of Section. She knew from the get go what the job would entail, but that did not make it any easier. She wanted to do the best job possible, and to make her mother proud. But then again, she wanted to make her mark in Section. She wanted to be known as the person who brought Section back to it's originally conceived agenda. Just as she wanted her mother to be proud of her, she wanted to be proud of herself.

Walking up to the door of the building, she rang the small buzzer, and waited. After a few moments, a frail, timid voice replied, and then buzzed her in. She proceeded to the elevator, and pushing the third floor button, she moved to the back. The doors slid closed, and the elevator began to move.

During the ride, she ran over possible topics of conversation that she and her mother could have. She always felt it necessary to prepare herself for these visits, almost like preparing for a test. She never really knew why, but she always had felt that her mother was analyzing her. That she was noting every gesture, every comment, every move. As if she were doing a profile workup on her, like the head psychologist under her at Section would do.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid smoothly open. She walked through them, turned right, and strolled down the hallway. As she came to the door, she shrugged her shoulders, and smoothed her hair back. Then, she softly rapped her knuckles on the door and waited.

When the door slowly swung open, to admit her entrance, she was greeted by a frail, older lady, smiling brightly. "Hi mom," she said, and she hugged the older lady affectionately. The older lady stepped back, and motioned for the girl to enter. Closing the door quietly behind them, the older lady proceeded to move to the center of the room, and sit down in a worn chair.

The young woman sat down on the couch, opposite the older lady, and they sat in silence, smiling at each other. After a few moments, the older lady spoke.

"Today is your birthday, isn't it?" she asked. The question caught the young woman off guard.

"Yes, it is. I am thirty-three today," she replied. The older lady just continued smiling and shook her head.

"Did I ever, in all your thirty-three years, tell you the story of two people named Michael and Nikita?" she asked.

The young woman looked at the older lady, and after a slight pause, she answered. "No, mom, I don't think you did. Who were they?" she asked.

The older lady suddenly got a sad look in her eyes. "They were once members of Section, who loved each other very much. But, they were never meant to be together."

CHAPTER TWO

The young woman leaned forward, staring intently at the older lady, waiting for her to continue. "What do you mean they were never meant to be together?" she asked. The older lady justed stared into space, as if reliving the entire event all over again.

"They came to know each other by circumstances beyond their control. And they came to be kept apart by the same circumstances," the older lady said somberly. Then, as the young woman continued to listen, the older lady began the tale.

"When Nikita came to Section, she had been living as a child of the streets. She had claimed that she had been falsely accused of her convicted crime, butthey did not believe her," the older lady stated.

The young woman furrowed her brow. "Why would she have been placed in Section, if she had been convicted of a crime to begin with?" the young woman asked.

"Because, in those days, that is how the got their operatives. They 'used' convicted felons to carry out their end games for them," the older woman explained. The young woman shook her head in disbelief, and the older woman continued.

"When Nikita was 'chosen' it was with the intention of her 'helping'one of their best operatives to get over a very personal loss. Michael had, just six months, before lost his wife, Simone, and the result was a serious drop in his mission performance. As he was being groomed to take the place of the current Operations when the time came, there was too much at stake to just let him try to come to terms at his own speed. So they had determined that maybe the introduction of new material would speed the process along. Little did they know, that it would only complicate matters."

The older lady stopped, and the younger woman looked up. "Mom, are you okay?" she asked, with a concerned tone in her voice. The older lady looked at the younger woman, and smiled.

"I am fine. Just dealing with some old ghosts I guess," she replied. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling you about the complications that were about to rear their ugly heads," the older lady commented. "Although their intentions had been selfish, they had still been good nonetheless. They had thought that by providing Michael with new material, and something to focus himself on, he would move past his current crisis. But, he moved on to something they had not planned on. He fell in love with Nikita. And although they did everything they could to discourage it, it happened anyways. She became his reason for living. At times that helped his performance, and other times it clouded his reason. In the end, his love for her was his undoing...and it was Nikita's undoing as well."

CHAPTER THREE

The older lady slowly rose from her chair, and moved to stand in front of the window. Raising her frail, wrinkled hand, she drew back the curtains. The sunlight washed across her face, and she smiled, basking in the warmth of it. After a few moments, she dropped her head, and sighed.

"What happened?" the young woman coaxed. The older lady turned, and looked at the younger woman.

"Their love for one another, which was believed to be their saving grace, ended up being their final demise," the older lady replied sadly.

"How can that be? If they loved each other, then they would have protected each other as well...right?" the younger woman asked. The older lady turned her head again, and looked out the window. She gazed, as if staring back through time.

As she replayed the events leading up to the tragic incidents, a melancholy looked played across her features.

"I had just arrived at Section that day," the older lady began, "and I found the communications center in utter chaos. Birkoff was working at his station, with Michael leaning over his shoulder, barking commands at him."

"What do you mean you can't get a fix on her? Her clock crystal should make it easy for even you!", Michael yelled at Birkoff. Birkoff, upset, stood up suddenly, and rounded on Michael.

"Listen Michael. I am just as worried about Nikita as you are, but I can only download the intel as fast as the system will go. I am pushing it the way it is, and am risking a system-wide crash. So if you will please just back off and let me do my job!"

As Birkoff turned back to his work, Michael started to reach out and grab his shoulder. He was stopped in mid movement.

"Michael, in my office, now," Operations said, and Michael turned and glared at him. After a few heartbeats, Michael turned back to Birkoff.

"I want updates every fifteen minutes. And Birkoff.." Birkoff looked up from his work, and met Michaels gaze. "Thank you."

Birkoff smiled, and winked. Then Michael turned and headed towards the stair access to the observation deck. As Michael rounded the corner, he came upon Operations, and Madeline. They both turned to him, and as his gaze met Madeline's, she looked awayf rom him. Turning his attention to Operations, he straightened his shoulders, and placed his hands in his pockets.

"You wanted to see me?" Michael asked. Operations glanced at Madeline, then returned his attention to Michael.

"We have gotten a fix on Nikita. She is in the Baltics, and is the prisoner of Anthony Simmons. He, as you may remember, is the right hand man to Perry Bower," Operations replied. "Now, we have had no ransom demand, or such, so we are assuming that they plan to kill her. But, before they do, they will try to extract as much information from her as they can."

Operations stopped, and watched Michael. He looked for some sort of reaction, an indication that Michael would be a problem in the overall plan. But he only met with Michael's blank stare, and relaxed stance. After a few moments, Michael licked his lips, and spoke.

"Will we be sending in a team to bring her out then?" he asked. Operations looked to Madeline, and she returned his gaze. An unspoken message passed between them at that moment. Michael noticed it, and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Yes, Michael, a team will be sent in," Madeline answered, "but not to bring her out." Michael looked at Madeline, waiting for her to continue. "Michael, we are sending in an cancellation team. Their orders are to eliminate Nikita before she can give away any sensitive intel."

Madeline and Operations studied Michael, but he only continued to look at then with detacted interest. Then, he spoke, and what he said, was not something they had expected.

"I want to be on the team. I want to join the cancellation team being sent to eliminate Nikita."

CHAPTER FOUR

The older lady paused, and just stood looking out the window. The younger woman rose from the couch, and walked over to the older lady. Stopping just behind her, she placed her hands on the older ladies shoulders. The older lady released her hold on the curtain, and placed her hand on the younger womans, patting it gently.

Then, turning from the window, the older lady walked over to her worn chair, and slowly eased herself down into it. The younger woman turned and looked at the older woman. "Mom, what happened? Did Michael get Nikita back?" the younger woman asked.

The older lady looked up at the younger woman, and nodded. "Yes, in a way, he did. You see, when Michael had asked to go on the mission with the cancellation team, he had his own mission profile in mind. He had intended to find Nikita, and get her out, before the other team members could take the mission to its end game. But, that did not happen. In essence, he got her back, but only for a few brief moments."

The younger woman looked at the older lady with an expression of interest andconfusion. "Michael and the team stormed to location, and found Nikita. When they did, she was near death. Michael had not planned on Nikita being in the condition in which they had found her. When he opened the cell door, and found her lying on the floor, not moving, his heart dropped into his stomach. He moved to her, and kneeled down close to her. Taking her in his arms, he cradled her gently. Then, he touched his comm unit, and called for help.

But the only reply was that of being told to cancel her. That was when Michael made his decision. He decided that if Nikita was going to die, he would die with her." The older lady stopped, and drew in a ragged breath. Once she had steadied herself, she looked down at her hands and continued.

"I was in charge of monitoring the comm link connections that day. I had been given the responsibility of making sure that all incoming communications were relayed to Birkoff. But, there was one communication that I did not relay. It was a communication from Michael, to me, telling me what I just told you. He wanted to make sure that someone in Section knew what had happened and why. As I tried to talk him into thinking it over, to consider other possibilities, I heard the sound of resignation in his voice. He had made up his mind, and he was adament on it. Then, after a long pause of silence, Michael spoke to me again."

"Make sure that they know that they are the reason that it had to come to this. They gave us no choice. They decided our fate before we even had a chance to devine it ourselves," Michael stated, cooly and calmly. "As the moments ticked by," the older woman continued, "I held my breath. Then, over the comm link, I heard Michael say 'I love you Nikita, and we will always be together." The older lady stopped speaking, as a single tear ran down her cheek, and splashed onto her hands in her lap.

The younger woman, looking at the older lady, wiped her nose, and sniffled. She too was crying, as she listened to the story.

"In that last moment, before the comm link went dead, I heard Nikita whisper back to Michael, 'forever...my love...'< Then the link went dead. Later, when the mission team had returned, they had said that there had been an explosion. It seemed that Michael had made contigency plans before going. He had planned on coming back with Nikita or not at all." The older lady stopped, and the room fell silent. The only sound was that of the older lady breathing, and the occassional sniffling of the younger woman.

After a few moments, the younger woman looked up. "Mom, why are you telling me this here, now?" the younger woman asked.

"Because, you are the head of Section now. You can prevent it from happening to others. You have the power. You can make the difference."

The younger woman walked over to her coat, and picking it up, slowly slipped it on. She then picked up her gloves and her purse. As she started for the door, she stopped next to the older lady, and leaning over, gently kissed her on the forehead.

"Don't worry mom, things will be different. I promise." With that, the younger woman headed for the door. As she gripped the knob, and turned it the older lady called out.

"Josephine?" she said. Josephine turned around.

"Yes mom?" she replied. "Did I ever tell you how I chose your name?"

Josephine paused for a moment. "No, I don't believe you did," she answered.

The older lady chuckled. "One day, I will have to tell you."

Josephine smiled. "Yeah, I guess you will." Then, turning to the door, she opened it and moved across the threshold, closing the door quietly behind her.

After Josephine had left, Gail sat and just stared at the wall. She was glad that she had told her daughter the story, but she was not sure if it had helped anything. Gail had lived too long with these ghosts, and she was getting too old to fight them anymore. She had to make sure that she cleared her conscience, if she was going to purge her soul.

Getting up, and heading into the kitchen, Gail smiled to herself. On Josephine's next visit, Gail decided she may just tell her the story of how she and Josephine's father had met.

THE END