Part 2: ENTER SECTION


Pushing her dark oval sunglasses off of her eyes and back onto the top of her head, Nikita waltzed into Section One's headquarters with a look of pure determination on her face and her head held high, as if she owned the place.

And...well, she did.

"And why are you lookin' so serious this morning?" She heard Walter call out from where he was casually leaning against the wall, absent-mindedly toying with a small, innocent-looking handgun. It seemed simple enough but she knew that, in Walter's hands, very few weapons were innocent and nothing was simple.

Nikita's smile automatically widened, as it usually tended to do when Walter made an appearance. He was more her father than her own had ever been. "Good morning Walter."

"‘Mornin' sugar." He nodded curtly. "Now...what's got this place all abuzz? I'm betting it's the same thing that has you looking like you're runnin' on fumes."

She sighed and crossed her arms, only mildly amused with his assessment of her. Even if he had hit the nail on the head with the description. She apparently looked exactly how she felt. "They got Harris."

"Monty?" Walter asked, sounding shocked by the revelation.

Nikita nodded. "Montgomery J. Harris, murdered at exactly o-seven hundred yesterday morning."

"Mission?"

"No. He's had a lot of down-time lately. We've been giving him enough rope to hang himself with. But...looks like they beat us to the punch."

Walter shook his head. "Shame. He was always such a nice guy."

With an exaggerated roll of her soft blue eyes, Nikita smiled ruefully at the man. "Nice guy? Walter, the man was a double agent. This isn't exactly grief I'm wearing on my face."

"Sugar...not to point out the obvious but you've had your hand in both cookie jars before, if I recall correctly."

She gave him a rueful smile, amazed at how much leeway she gave the man. If anyone else had pointed such a thing out, she would have been itching to have that person canceled on the spot. But Walter, as always, managed to ground her in a way very few people could.

"With good intention," she finally replied. And it had been. She had been Hell-bent on putting a stop to Section One and getting her own life back. But her father - Mr. Jones - had made certain that she would be forever bound to the place. To the...job.

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

She huffed at him, exasperated. "Are you purposely trying to annoy me or do you just feel some great need to be right today?"

"Hey," he said, holding his hands up innocently, the small gun still dangling from his fingers. "I'm simply showing you another side of things. It's what you keep me around for."

"I keep you around because no one else would have you!" She joked.

With a mock-scowl, Walter scoffed. "And?"

"And," she admitted affectionately, "you're the best damn munitions man out there...and we would all be lost without your expertise?"

"Damn right."

***

Hours later - the following day to be precise, Justin was still very much in the dark. Literally and figuratively. He had no clue what was happening. He still wore the black hood and the ties on his wrists remained, though his ankles had been freed so that he might walk under his own power.

He had roughly been carried out of his apartment and put into what he could tell was some sort of SUV. Then, after a few minutes travel time, they had cut his legs free and escorted him onto a small plane. The flight had taken what seemed like days, but he was fairly certain it was only hours. He had been allowed one trip to the bathroom, all the while wearing the thick hood, which his captors had refused to remove. After their plane had landed, he had been put into yet another SUV, where he was at that very moment, sitting uncomfortably between two very large, very silent men.

The men around him had said little more than five words to him since they had begun the journey. And it was beginning to wear on his nerves. The only sounds he had heard were small beeps and what sounded like a cell phone every now and then.

His fear, for the most part, had faded. Now he sat there dreaming up all the possible scenarios of what could be happening. Where they might be taking him. And why any of this had happened in the first place. He tried not to think of his boyfriend's blank death stare, even though the image was burned into this back of his eyelids.

But no matter what, he had already made a vow that he wasn't going to break down and be some scared little faggot. He wasn't going to cry out for his lover or his mother or his friends or even God, for that would immediately be recognized as fear and that was the one thing he swore to himself he would not show.

Very suddenly, he felt the vehicle come to a halt and he was ushered out quickly, his legs barely able to carry him fast enough. The men were all but dragging him as they went. In the small commotion, his breathing became a slight wheeze and he had to stretch his senses to hear the sounds of what sounded like a busy city. Car horns blaring, people yelling, construction machinery in the distance. It couldn't be more than a few blocks away. But...where were they?

Down five flights of stairs and into some sort of tunnel, Justin was aware of a definite change in atmosphere. He could almost smell the negativity that surrounded him. It was like being in a prison cell when you had done nothing wrong. He felt jumpy and the sharp edge of fear settled into him just enough to put his brain into overdrive.

Turning his head from side to side, he absorbed the small rays of light that penetrated the hood. He couldn't make out any definite shapes but he knew that there were people milling about around them as he was taken through the room.

Apparently the two men carrying him knew where they were going. Nothing had been said that would have indicated where he was to be taken. Though it would have been a helpful hint to his whereabouts, which is probably why they had remained silent.

Idly Justin wondered just how long it would take a person to go insane from being given the silent treatment.

He heard a swishing sound, which actually sounded like an extremely quiet elevator door and he was once again pushed forward and shoved roughly into a chair. Or...what he thought was a chair. The cool steel of the chair-like contraption touched his arms and he began to shiver uncontrollably. The cold accompanied by fatigue from the long journey and his nerves being on edge for so long...it was all taking its toll on him . After he was held down and strapped tightly into the cold seat, the hood was snatched off and he was aware of his captors leaving through the swishing door. Finally leaving him alone.

Blinking rapidly, his eyes slowly readjusting to the light, he thought for a moment that he was back in the hospital. The place was white as far as the eye could see and he shuddered, wondering briefly if he was in some sort of psycho ward.

Had seeing Monty driven him insane and he didn't even know it? Would a crazy person imagine men capturing them or was he just so hysterical that he had distorted all the facts and none of this was actually happening?

For nearly three hours they left him in the white room, his mind going in demented circles. He knew that if they left him in there any longer, it wouldn't be a question of whether he was insane or not. The blank canvas of a room and with only his post-traumatic mind to keep him company, he would surely be driven to madness sooner or later anyway.

Finally the sound of the door was heard behind him and he twisted to see who had entered. Yet it was impossible as the wide leather straps across his chest, arms and legs bound him closely to the chair and allowed for only minimal movement. He squirmed uncomfortably until he could take the suspense no longer. "Who's there?" he called out softly but firmly, not wanting anyone to know of his uneasiness.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor," he heard a woman reply. Her subdued Australian accent thickened her voice considerably, but it somehow comforted him in a way that he knew it shouldn't. He couldn't trust these...people!

"Why...am I here?" he managed, jumping as he felt small metallic disks being placed on his temples, forehead and the base of his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Why don't you just sit back and relax for now, Mr. Taylor. Everything will be fine."

Justin sneered. "Forgive me if I have a little trouble believing you."

The woman said nothing else but he could feel her presence directly behind him. Eventually he noticed a green square at eye level in front of him. It looked like...a holograph or something.

Jeez! What was he in? The Twilight Zone?

A small digital chime and the green square wavered, fading into a photo of Monty and him passing through the door of their building. The picture was obviously a surveillance photo and he specifically remembered that day. He was carrying one suitcase, having finally made the decision to move in with his boyfriend.

Seeing Monty again - alive - filling half a wall and looking beautiful, he felt a wave of fresh tears burn the back of his lids but he refused to let them fall, so he sniffled once and blinked them away.

After a moment, a second photo appeared. This one was of him and Monty as well as the rest of the gang, holding up the bar in Babylon. He and Monty had their arms around each other, Michael and Emmett were in the middle talking animatedly about something, Ben and Ted were both watching the crowd and Brian...Brian was looking at him. His head was tilted to one side giving the impression that he was looking off into the crowd, but Justin could tell that his gaze was most decidedly on him.

Pulling his mind away from this new revelation and the idea that he might never SEE Brian again, Justin continued to watch the holographic images cycle before his eyes.

There was picture of Brian, Michael Ted and Emmett all enjoying breakfast at the diner while Justin stood talking to them, all but ignoring the other customers. One of Lindsay and Melanie, getting Gus out of his car seat, about to go into their house. Another of Gus and Justin playing in the park. He had been babysitting...and they had been spying on him. There were more - Gus at school, Molly and his mother shopping, Molly on the front step of his mother's apartment playing with a doll, Deb and Vic standing in line for some old movie. The pictures angered him and scared him at the same time. How could they know...SO much?

If the previous photos had scared him, the last few damn-near terrified him. The first was of Brian at work. That alone might not have bothered him, but then he noticed Monty seated in one of the chairs in front of Brian's desk, looking quite comfortable in the office of the man that was his current boyfriend's ex-partner.

His mind still reeling from the seemingly innocent picture, he was only partially aware of the next series. Pictures of himself going into Brian's building and then leaving Brian's building - the two of them kissing goodbye in the doorway. And finally...a photo of he and Brian, extremely naked and very obviously making love. For a moment he was caught up in the beauty of the image before him. The love that radiated from them in the throes of passion. His head thrown back as he straddled Brian. Brian's hands bracing his back as his forehead rested on Justin's chest. Both seemingly out of breath but too far gone to care.

When Justin's vision cleared once again from the hazy memories, he realized that the picture had been taken from outside the loft window. Perhaps from the empty building across the street.

Enough was enough.

"What the hell is going on?!" he roared.

"Please calm down, Mr. Taylor," the woman said too damn calmly. She walked around him until she was standing before him and he stared up at his tormentor. Her wore head to toe black. Black Italian boots, a black pantsuit, and black gloves. Her white-blonde hair in sharp contrast to her attire, was pulled back into a tight bun. Appearance alone might have told him that she was all business, but then their eyes met and held. In her eyes, he saw something. A spark of fire that marked the remains of a good heart. He had no fear that the woman would hurt him and calmed instantly.

"Thank you," she smiled, "Now, shall we begin?"

***

"What the hell is going on?!"

Nikita winced inwardly at the sound of the young man's pained wail. He was pained by the images he had seen, she could tell. And he should be. That was the point. To make him see what he could lose. To make him realize just what the stakes were for not cooperating. He was an innocent in all of this and she was going to make every effort possible to see that he went virtually unharmed by the whole experience.

She steeled herself against the emotions that made her want to protect him. Emotions, she knew, were dangerous when it came to such a life as hers. Hadn't she learned that lesson more than once?

"Please calm down, Mr. Taylor." As she crossed in front of him, she finally got a good look at the boy. Man, more like. He was supposed to be twenty. His face and body might have suggested sixteen but the knowledge she read in his eyes, it was as though he had lived several lifetimes. She knew of the bashing that had taken place a few years before. In fact, she knew everything there was to know about the man. They had made it a point to investigate everyone and anyone that came in contact with their wayward operative, Monty. And Justin...he was the unfortunate soul that had gotten just a little too close. Monty had gotten closer to him than he had ever gotten to anyone. They had to know everything.

"Thank you," she said, seeing the resistence leave him. "Now, shall we begin?"

"Sure," he tossed off casually, probably going for an air of indifference. He failed miserably and she pressed on, in hopes of finishing the job and getting him home where he belonged.

"As you can see, we're extremely thorough. We know everything about your life, Mr. Taylor. And the lives of those close to you."

"What do you want?" His voice was still a bit shaky, but with the square of his shoulders and the slight lift of his chin, she knew he was working to hide his worry.

"We need some information. You cooperate with us and you'll be set free," she replied softly.

"And my family? My friends?"

"No harm will come to...anyone. You have my word."

"How do I know I can trust you to keep your word?"

"You don't. But...then, your options are rather limited at the moment."

After a little thought and casting a furtive glance back to the screen which still held the two beautiful men in such a passionate embrace, Justin conceded, "What do you want to know?"

"Your...boyfriend - what was his name?"

Justin scoffed bitterly, "I thought you were thorough. Knew everything."

Nikita had to hold back a smile. "We are. Which is why we're checking the lie detector." She tapped a fingernail against the small electrode on his right temple. "Now please answer the question. And I suggest you don't lie, otherwise..." she tapped the same fingernail over the disk that had been placed over his heart.

"My boyfriend's name is...was Monty."

"Full name, please."

"Montgomery Harris."

"And...the man you love? His name." Justin hesitated as though saying the other man's name aloud might somehow connect him and put him into danger. "It's okay. We won't do anything to him."

Justin looked down at the floor. "Brian Kinney."

With a satisfied nod, Nikita began to circle him as he sat helplessly in the chair.

"Alright. What was...Monty's occupation?"

"He was a pilot. He flew for an independent company."

"What company?"

"Uh...I-I don't think he ever said."

"Don't you think that's odd? That he never mentioned the name of the company he worked for?"

Justin was turning a particularly bright tint of red and she knew he was getting flustered. Was he embarrassed that he had never thought about that? Or...had Monty told him something he shouldn't have?

"I-I never really thought to ask. He was gone so much... When he came home he never wanted to talk about work," he said in way of explanation. More to himself than to her.

"Did he ever mention any names at all? Outside of your friends and family? Did you ever meet any of his friends or family?"

"He...He was new in town when I met him. My friends became his friends. And...he mentioned that his parents live in...Idaho I think. But...that they had disowned him when he came out to them."

So it seemed that Monty had stuck to the truth about his parents. All except the fact that he had attempted to murder them for turning their backs on him. Yes, in hindsight, Nikita realized that Monty wasn't a very good addition to Section after all.

"So did he ever tell you about his past?"

"Nothing too detailed. He...I guess I figured it was too painful for him to talk about. I understood that, ya know. I didn't talk much about my past either. We just sort of...I guess we just wanted to focus on the present and future rather than having to face the past."

"I see." She wanted to ask why he had rekindled a relationship with his previous lover if he was so intent on forgetting the past, but she held herself back, thinking it irrelevant. "Do you know if Monty had a safe? Hiding place of some sort?"

Justin looked at her dubiously and shook his head. "No. Why would he tell me if he did?"

"Did he have a bank account?"

"No. He always carried plenty of cash."

"Credit cards?"

"I think he might have had a Visa card but only for emergencies."

"Did he ever tell you where he was going when he left on flights?"

Justin shrugged as much as he could with the strap across his arms. "Sometimes. Sometimes he didn't know where he was going until after they took off."

"But afterwards, he didn't tell you about all of the great places he had been?"

"Sometimes," he repeated. "He would bring me presents. Books, chocolate, clothes, paintings, food...from all over the world. He promised to fly me to Paris one day. Just me and him."

"Paris?" She wondered if...

"Did he ever mention...having to go to Russia?"

"Lady... Look, you have more of an interest in my boyfriend than I apparently ever did! Wanna tell me why that is?"

"No," she answered as honestly as she dared. "If I were to tell you...I would have to kill you." Justin laughed obviously not believing her words.

Before he could blink, Nikita had the barrel of the small gun that Walter had given her to test earlier that morning, pressed just above the bridge of his nose. His eyes crossed almost comically as he looked at the cold metal that pressed against his flesh. "See," she went on as if she didn't have a deadly weapon pointed at his head. "It's a very risky little job I have. I can't afford slip-ups. Monty...he was a slip-up."

"You...you killed him?" Justin whispered hoarsely.

Nikita shook her head, hoping that her regret over not being the one to take him down, didn't show too clearly. "No. But I know who did. And I was hoping that you might have some information that I need to get to them. Unfortunately for me - fortunately for YOU - you have nothing I need."

"Are you gonna kill me?" She was oddly proud that his voice didn't waver once as he spoke the words. The boy's reserve of strength was amazing.

She smiled and placed the gun on a small white counter in the corner. "No. As long as you do something for me."

"Something else you mean?"

"Fine," she smirked, "Something else."

"What?"

"You can never - and I do mean NEVER - let anyone know about this place. Or that you were here. If they ask about your absence, tell them you were upset because...Monty left you. And you wanted to be alone."

"What do I tell the cops? Won't they notice...he's dead?"

"No. They'll never even know. To the world...Monty just moved on. Disappeared." She was sure that their rivals had cleaned up their own mess and Monty's body had been disposed of by then. "Now, may I offer some advice to you Mr. Taylor?"

"Sure," he spoke a bit hesitantly.

"Go home. Forget about this place. Forget me. Forget Monty. Forget...everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. Move in with your Brian Kinney and be happy. And...just live. Okay?"

Justin nodded, not really understanding anything but willing to pretend.

The doors slid open and the two men that had carried the boy in returned, recovering his head, unstrapping his arms and hands only to rebind them together and pulling him roughly to his feet. As he was carried away, Nikita smiled sadly, hoping that he would remember what she said. Someone should have a chance to be happy. To live. Even if it wasn't her.

***

It took but a moment for the men to spook Justin. They had been winding their way through the compound, heading for the exit when Justin finally heard one of the men speak.

"Such a waste."

"How d'ya mean?" the second man said.

"Just look at him. He's scrawny, sure. But...he'd make fine material."

"And I'm sure you wouldn't mind seein' his...material...'round here on a daily basis either, would ya?" The two men laughed and a chill ran the length of Justin's body. They came to a wall and he was turned around. As he heard doors closing and the ground shifted below them, he knew he was on an elevator. But it felt more like a tomb.

The first man...the man to his right, moved so that while one hand still held Justin in place, the other smoothed down his side, sliding over his ass and between his legs from behind. Justin squirmed, but the second man tightened his hold on Justin's left arm, thinking that he was trying to break free.

The roaming hand made it's way up and around to his stomach, following the trail to his cock. "Don't TOUCH me," he ground out in warning.

"Jarred," the second man warned, suddenly realizing what was going on. With the realization that both men's attentions were doubtfully directly on him, but on each other, Justin heard the elevator door open, he went limp allowing his weight to fall to the ground and snatched the hood from his head, rolling out of the elevator and running blindly towards the first empty hallway he saw.

The men ran after him and eventually passed him as he had ducked into an open office door.

He looked up and found himself looking at a young man. The man looked to be in his late twenties but his hair was long, spiked and...iridescent green. Justin might have laughed out loud, but he saw danger in the other man's eyes and he backed out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Checking to make sure no one was waiting for him, he ran in the same direction he had come from and this time took the other hallway.

It wasn't long before he happened upon a grated bridge that passed over what had to be the biggest computer lab he'd ever seen. Several dozen men and women were busily typing away or looking over things or pointing things out to others. He nonchalantly crossed over the area, hoping not to look out of place. When he reached the other side he entered yet another hallway, which came to a dead end. He had to chose. Left or right. One would get him home. The other would probably get him killed.

Hesitating on the decision, he waiting one beat too many and suddenly the sound of clicking heals on metal reached him. The blonde woman was standing to his right. The green-haired freak to his left. Neither seemed to be armed and he wondered briefly if he could take the freak, but before he could make his move, he was surrounded by gun wielding goons.

"Why did you do it?" Nikita asked, her voice full of regret on his behalf.

"I..." But he didn't have an answer.

"Jarred," one of the men that had been taking him out, spoke up from the back of the crowd. "Jarred was touching him, ma'am. I think the kid got scared and...bolted."

"Thanks Davies. Now...Jarred?" She beckoned for a tall red-head, presumably the man that had been trying to feel him up, to stand before her.

The green-haired freak leaned over and whispered to the blonde woman, her eyes growing hard with every passing second. "Jarred...today is your lucky day. You won't be canceled because of this. But if you ever...do something like this again..." She left the threat hanging in the air between them and even Justin knees were knocking after one look at the woman's cold glare.

"Everyone leave," she said in a steely voice.

"But-" the green-haired freak started, obviously ready to object.

"Go, Kelly," she told the man firmly.

When the group had left, Justin stood his ground and the woman began to circle him until he thought he might be sick from dizziness.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"But that guy-"

"No. I know what happened. It makes no difference. You've seen things now..."

"I didn't see anything! Honest!"

"You've seen enough, Justin." She crossed her arms and squared her shoulders, facing off with him. "You have a choice."

Justin said nothing, waiting for her to state his choices and dole his sentence. Something told him he had to bend at this point, or they would break him in their own way.

"You die," she said, pausing to let the words sink in, "...or you join us."

"J-Join you?"

"Yes."

"What ARE you? WHO are you?"

"Section One"

"Section One? What the hell is Section One?"

"We...dabble in lots of things. Mainly anti-terrorism."

"Anti... You're kidding me. Please...PLEASE tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were. More than you know. But those are your choices."

"And if I...join. What will I do? Come to bi-monthly meetings? What?"

The woman actually laughed at this but only for a second. "You would live here. Train here. After two years of training, you'd be given something of a job assignment."

"And my family and friends?"

"We would see to that. They would be unharmed, but you would never be allowed to contact them again."

"What? But...they'll think..."

"We will make them believe you're dead. But...would you rather BE dead and let them wonder? Or...let them think you're dead and go on with life?"

"Would I even have a life here?"

"Section would be your life. You would live...but it would be on our terms."

Justin sighed, wanting so badly to cry. To scream. To hit something. To...just go home.

"Do you remember what I said before?" She didn't wait for his response. Just cupped his chin in her palm. "Live. Okay?"

Not feeling as though it was actually a choice, Justin nodded and Nikita smiled sadly at him, as if she actually understood how he felt. But...how could she? His life - his future - everything had been taken from him in the span of two days.

***

After finally dealing with his last client of the day, Brian made his way to Liberty Diner. More for answers than the food.

As soon as he entered Debbie hurried over to him and immediately began to grill him. "Where's Justin?"

Brian looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "Why would I know?"

She scoffed loudly. "Brian Kinney, the other's might not see you two, but just remember that I'm still around here even after they leave every morning. I know something's going on with you two again. And...I'm not even gonna start on THAT. It's just that...well he didn't show up for his shift this afternoon. I've tried to call him but...no answer on his cell or at his apartment."

"Maybe he just...doesn't feel well?" Brian suggested, beginning to feel a little worried himself. After Justin hadn't shown up the night before he had been livid, thinking that his lover had blown him off and decided to stay with Monty. His anger had eaten away from him all night but come morning it had turned into worry. What if Monty had gotten upset and had hurt Justin. Or...kidnaped him. Several rather insane ideas had gone through his mind and by the time he had gotten into his jeep after work, he had felt drained and ready to find Justin so that his overactive imagination could take a break.

"I just have this bad feeling. In my gut, ya know?" Deb said in a low voice.

"Don't worry, Deb. I'm sure everything's fine," he lied.

Running out of the diner before Deb could freak him out anymore, he was all set to go home and put the twink out of his mind with a little chemical assistance, but somehow he found himself parked beside the building where Justin and Monty's apartment was located.

"What the hell," he swore, making his way inside. Couldn't hurt to just check. Even if Justin had decided to stay with the guy... Maybe he wouldn't hurt Monty too badly.

"Justin?" He called out as he knocked. Minutes passed and not a peep was heard from within the apartment. "JUSTIN!" he yelled louder, causing a few of their neighbors to poke their heads out and grumble.

Finally the idea...the suggested image had gotten into his head and all he could imagine was Justin lying on the floor, badly hurt and calling out for him in a voice too low to hear. With that image as his driving force, he managed to kick the door in and ran into the apartment blindly, calling out to his lover.

To Be Cotinued...



Part 3

Back to Part 1

L'homme Justin Main

QAF Main



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