The night was brisk, a little on the cool side. It would be a perfect night to have a midnight picnic or a moonlight stroll on a beach, even to ride in the car with the windows halfway down. But, he admitted to himself, it was just a little too cold to be riding the bike.

He wasn’t really thinking of this when he chose his mode of transportation. At that time, his mind was working some kind of plan to save Nikita, but he had so little information that all of his thoughts were ill formed, the various paths ending abruptly when he came to another question that he didn’t know the answer to. He felt restless throughout the dinner, waiting for the appointed time that he could go to Nikita, find out everything he could, change whatever needed changing, by whatever means necessary. Maneuver, threaten, bully, bribe. Kill. Whatever he needed to do. Luckily for him, Elaina was used to his quick absences, and didn’t ask him for any details.

He automatically went for the bike.

His mind was in two parts. Most of the time he himself never noticed how he thought, how he was able to compartmentalize his observances and feelings, but sometimes, it struck him. Like tonight. He was perfectly able to control the bike, feeling the stinging of the wind on his body, noticing the way the lone headlight cast the oddest shadows all around him, not like a car would make. He noticed the feel of the engine between his thighs, all the power man in his infinite egomania made. In the back of his mind was the thrill, the momentary taste of freedom he experienced on a bike, nothing he consciously noticed, but still there, just the same.

All the while another part of his mind was screaming with the knowledge that they were trying to kill her again, kill the one person he loved above all others.

He thought about the other two people in his life that he loved. Elaina. She was kind and compassionate and nurturing, and the closer this mission got to its ending, the more he realized his feelings truly were love. Not a love that the poets wrote about, true. Not even a love that under normal circumstances would ever amount to anything more than friendship. When he was with her, though, he felt safe, and he could say that about almost no one else.

He most certainly loved Adam, his son, his little boy, the only good and pure thing he created in his fifteen years with Section.

God help him, more than either of them, he loved Nikita.

He tried not to think that way, certainly a man should love his child far more than anything else on this earth. He tried to tell himself that. He knew, within himself, that it might destroy him truly to leave Adam, Nikita there or no, though he always shut the door of his mind whenever he found himself thinking of what would be after the mission.

A man should love his child most.
Sometimes, in his tortured dreams, they would make him choose: Nikita or Adam.
He had always chosen Nikita.
Now again, she was facing death, and this time he truly didn’t know if he could stop it.

After Adrian, after she had faced down Operations and confronted him in Section, Michael had thought that she would be cancelled outright. He wanted her to run. If it weren’t for Adam, he would have run with her. He knew Operations was going to cancel her.

Operations didn’t.

No call had gone to Oversight asking permission to cancel this class 2 operative. Michael had been watchful, keeping a close eye on the transmissions, the status reports, but the longer the time lapse between the Adrian incident and the lack of a move by Operations, the more hopeful Michael had become. Maybe, he thought, she had proven herself with this mission loyal and useful, enough that Operations would overlook this outburst that was hardly unique for Nikita, who was always questioning and demanding that the greater good truly be served, and wanted to make sure within herself that Section truly did make the world better. Wanted to make sure that Adrian’s cancellation, though pointless, wasn’t going to lead to the domination of the world by Section that Adrian had predicted.

He should have known better. He did know better. He knew Operations well, knew that Operations would not let a questioning of his authority on that level pass.

Operations wasn’t going to kill Nikita outright and risk George finding out about Adrian. Operations was going to kill her on a mission.

Michael wanted to charge into the office of Operations, tell Operations face to face that if he hurt Nikita, George would find out everything, Section would be brought down, that Operations himself, and perhaps Madeline also, would be cancelled.

That, however, could never happen. If it were just Michael himself, he would do it without a moment’s hesitation, because Michael could not survive without Nikita. How could anyone survive without their heart? Why would anyone want to live without their soul?

Tenuous, though. His position was so tenuous because of Adam. He knew that if he blackmailed Operations outright, yes, Operations would quit the overt assignments that would kill Nikita, but he would eventually figure out a way to kill her that Michael would never be able to prove was done deliberately. Operations was not one to be dismissed easily. One didn’t come into his position without stealth, patience and guile.

Moreover, Michael knew that after this mission to bring Elaina’s father down was finally completed, somehow both Elaina and Adam would die. An accident, or maybe not, maybe Section would murder them outright just to make sure Michael could never pretend that it didn’t have something to do with his protection of Nikita. Either way, just the same, they would die.

He despised himself when he admitted that it was only the thought of Adam’s death that truly stopped him, but Michael was not one to lie to himself about anything, not even his own motives, and so even with the loathing that accompanied it, he accepted that truth.

The plan that was still taking shape in his mind was so fragile, depending on so many variables. He hated the helplessness that fell on him whenever he thought of all the things that could go wrong. There were no other possibilities though, none that he could think of that would still protect his son.

His son, or his love.
Adam, or Nikita.
His nightmares becoming reality.
How could he choose? How could he lose either one and still survive?

The road ahead was curving around a sharp bend. Suddenly, Michael put on the breaks. The bike fell slightly to one side and skidded a couple of feet, but Michael kept control. When the bike stopped he swung his leg over the bike, then when the leg was clear, carelessly dropped the bike to the ground. He tore off his helmet and in a fit of rage and powerlessness and clarity threw the helmet over the side of the cliff.

Michael stared at the helmet’s fall, and realized as he did so that his breathing was labored, almost as if he had just completed a long run. This display was not like him at all, but as he watched, something in his heart and mind became clear.

Adam must live, that was the first priority. Adam was completely innocent, not deserving the lies and deceptions that were swirling around him every minute, not deserving the fact that one day soon his father would leave him without even saying goodbye. With all that, the very least he should have was a chance to live a normal, healthy, long life, with the promise of love and adventure and family that would come with that life. No matter what, Adam would live.

Even if he had to destroy Section to ensure that… and if this plan failed, even in the event that he had to watch Nikita die.

If Nikita died, as soon as he made sure Adam was protected, he would follow. Nothing would stop him from that course, not even Adam, because he knew Section would hold Adam out like a carrot, promising to let him keep his family, if only he would stay. He wouldn’t.

Because he loved Nikita more than he loved anything else in this world.
In the end, he would choose Nikita, over anything, over anyone.
He would always choose Nikita.

This story ©Bathory, 1999