Full Circle

DISCLAIMER: Nothing you donít already know, but just for the 
record - Nikita, Michael, Operations, Madeline, Birkoff, Walter, 
and the Twins are the property of LFN. Duncan, Methos, Joe, 
Richie, and Rebecca belong to Highlander.
This is the third story in the crossover arc with HL that began 
with "Dangerous Straits."


SCENE: SMALL YACHT, CARIBBEAN. The boat skims along the water, a 
clean white streak in the jewelly water.

The camera sweeps down: Michael is at the helm, shirtless, his 
tanned skin gleaming in the sun. His eyes are shielded with 
sunglasses, but he is smiling.

Arms wrap around his waist. Behind him, a bikini-clad Nikita, her 
skin warm and brown, her hair sunlit and wind-whipped, kisses his 
shoulder. She says something, and he responds. She smiles, kisses 
his shoulder again, and runs her fingernails playfully along his 

He looks back at her with a smile, and then powers down the boat. 
It comes to a slow stop. The wake rocks the boat gently.

NIKITA: Are we there?

MICHAEL: Not yet.

NIKITA: Then -

He turns and leans back against the instrument panel, running his 
hands up and down her tanned arms.

MICHAEL: I think we need to stop and take our bearings.

NIKITA: (smiling) Our bearings?

She steps closer, resting her arms on his shoulder blades. He 
slides his hands down to her waist, his thumbs slowly caressing 
her stomach.

MICHAEL: We have to know what direction weíre headed.

NIKITA: You mean like . . . east?

She leans forward and kisses the side of his neck.


She kisses the other side of his neck.

NIKITA: North?

She kisses him on the mouth, their lips lingering and tongues 

MICHAEL: (murmuring) And south -

His lips travel down her neck, and his hands up her back. With a 
slight, sure move, he undoes her bikini top. She arches her head 
back and laughs breathily as his lips move further down and his 
hands slide around under her arms to her front.

NIKITA: You do know your way around a globe, Michael.

His head comes up momentarily.

MICHAEL: Wait until you see what I can do in a jungle.

She laughs again and the camera sweeps back, showing the two of 
them, healthy, strong, embraced.


SCENE: YACHT, LATER. The sun is setting, streaking the sky with 
brilliant pink and orange. The yacht pulls up beside a small 
powerboat. Sitting in the boat is Methos, inappropriately dressed 
in jeans and a heavy windbreaker. He looks up at the yacht sourly, 
grabbing the side of his boat as it is rocked by the wake of the 
yacht. Michael turns off the yacht engine, and he and Nikita step 
to the railing, looking down.

METHOS: Youíre late.

MICHAEL: We were detained.

NIKITA: We got lost.

METHOS: (grumpily) Honeymooners.

NIKITA: Are you coming on board or are you just going to sit there 
and sulk?

Sighing, Methos stands and grabs a black bag on the floor of the 
power boat. He tosses it up, and Michael catches it deftly. They 
watch as Methos grabs hold of the rope ladder and climbs on board 
the yacht. He jumps over the railing, landing neatly on his feet, 
and then surveys the two of them, his arms crossed.

METHOS: Youíre looking . . . well.

NIKITA: And youíre overdressed.

METHOS: I donít do thongs.

NIKITA: For which we are eternally grateful.

METHOS: (to Michael) The little woman is a little upset.

Nikita bristles, her hands on her hips.

METHOS: (holding out his hands) Sorry. Uncalled for. Of course 
youíre upset, and believe me, if it wasnít important, I would 
never ask your husband to cut short your trip.

NIKITA: (relenting) Apology accepted.

MICHAEL: Whatís this about?

METHOS: Itís about what everythingís about.

He turns and looks across the water. Michael and Nikita turn as 
well: the boats are anchored near a small island. Rising from the 
rich greenery of the island is a large, elegant mansion.

METHOS: Power.


SCENE: YACHT, LATER. It is full dark now. The moonlit water laps 
gently against the two boats. Nikita and Methos watch as Michael 
pulls on a wet suit and scuba gear.

NIKITA: I donít like him going in alone.

METHOS: Wentworth would sense us before we even got to the door.

MICHAEL: Sometimes being mortal has its advantages.

Nikita and Methos look at each other and then away, uncomfortable.

MICHAEL: It was a joke.

NIKITA: (to Methos) So all he has to do is retrieve the journal, 

METHOS: Yes. Thatís the--how do you say it-- the "op."

NIKITA: So why not wait until Jenkins is out of the house--

METHOS: He keeps it with him at all times. By now itís probably 
tucked under his pillow.

MICHAEL: Any chance heíll have a decoy?

METHOS: Good question. I donít know. Itís from the fifteenth 
century, so all the entries are in Latin. The back cover has a 
stain from a cup of mead.


METHOS: (irritably) Yes, mead. Itís a beverage. We used to drink 
it in the old days. Itís quite good. Iíll make it for you 

NIKITA: Whatís in this journal thatís so important?

Methos stares at her a moment, and then looks away.

METHOS: You donít want to know.

Strapping on the scuba tanks, Michael stands, dressed and ready. 
Nikita and Methos stand with him. Methos picks up the small black 
bag and hands it to him. Michael straps it around his neck.

METHOS: Youíve got the security codes.


METHOS: And the layout--

MICHAEL: (interrupting) Iíve done this before, Adam.

METHOS: (after a moment) Of course. Youíre right.

Methos looks at Nikita, and then he walks to the other end of the 
boat to give them a moment alone. Nikita steps up to Michael and, 
in true wifely fashion, adjusts his wet suit.

NIKITA: Youíll be careful.

Michael stops her hand with a smile.

MICHAEL: Iíll bring you a starfish if I see one.

Unable to speak, Nikita stares at him, wide-eyed. He kisses her 
palm and her lips lightly. Then he steps over to the boat railing, 
climbs over, and falls back into the water. She runs over to the 
railing and watches him swim away. Methos joins her.

METHOS: Heíll be all right.

CUT to Michael, swimming. He stops and treads water for a moment, 
pulling a pair of waterproof mini-binoculars from the small pack. 
He scans the dock: itís empty.

CUT back to yacht. Nikita watches Michaelís progress through 

NIKITA: Heís at the dock.

A view through the binoculars: Michael pulls himself out of the 
water and then, a sleek dark figure, runs low and swift toward the 

Back to Nikita. She grips the binoculars tighter.


NIKITA: Heís at the door.

She drops the binoculars and turns to Methos.

NIKITA: We should--

She never finishes the sentence. There is a loud boom, the yacht 
rocks backward, and the night sky is filled with the bright orange 
light of an explosion.


ACT ONE: Enamorata

SCENE: CEMETERY. Nikita stands in front of a gravestone. She is in 
all black, and without make-up, she looks tired and desolate.

Quietly, Methos comes up from behind her. She doesnít acknowledge 
his arrival, but stiffens when he speaks.

METHOS: I canít tell you how sorry I am.

NIKITA: Donít even try.

She turns to him, rigid with pain and anger.

NIKITA: Did you get your precious journal back?

Methos contemplates the grave for a long moment.


NIKITA: I donít know what was in it, but I do know this. It wasnít 
worth his life.

METHOS: Actually-- (he pauses as if uncertain he should say it) 
Actually, it was.

She stares at him, outraged, and then abruptly turns away and 
walks off.

METHOS: Nikita--

She ignores him, continuing blindly across the graveyard. Methos 
sighs and turns back to the grave. He kneels beside it, and then 
touches Michaelís name.

METHOS: I am sorry, my friend.

The camera pans upward toward the trees, rich with summer green 
against a brilliant blue sky. Then the image dissolves to a shot 
of trees bare of leaf, against a winter gray sky.

SCENE: PARIS, WINTER. The camera pulls back from the shot of the 
bare trees to reveal that we are in an artistís studio, looking 
out the windows that reach from floor to ceiling along one wall. 
The room is big and echoing, and apparently has not been used for 
some time. There are dusty crates along one wall and a workbench 
along the other wall. In the middle of the floor is the tallest 
crate, one side of which has already been removed. As the camera 
moves around the crate, Duncan comes into view: the solemn, shorn 
Duncan of the beginning of Highlanderís sixth season.

Duncan takes a crowbar and pries apart another side of the crate. 
It falls with a whoosh of dust to the floor. He then moves to the 
last corner and does the same. The final two sides fall. Duncan 
looks up: inside the crate was a statue--two long, sweeping white 
figures, curving together but not touching.

Suddenly, he looks around. Another immortal approaches.

NIKITA: (from the door) Itís beautiful.

Duncan turns. Nikita stands just inside the door. She is pale and 
thin, soberly dressed, and she looks at the statue, not at him.

DUNCAN: (looking back at the statue) Yes, it is. Itís called 

Nikita steps into the studio, still gazing at the statue. He 
watches her.

NIKITA: "Enamorata."

DUNCAN: Itís the story of two lovers kept apart by fate--

He stops, as if suddenly conscious of the painful associations the 
story might bring.

DUNCAN: (gruffly changing the subject) I didnít know you were in 

NIKITA: I got in last night. Joe told me I could find you here.

She walks around the statue, touching it lightly, until she 
reaches him. She looks at him sadly.

NIKITA: He told me about Richie.

Duncan looks away.

NIKITA: Iím sorry.

He nods jerkily, not trusting himself to speak.

NIKITA: (looking back at the statue) Whoís the artist?

DUNCAN: (after a moment) Tessa. Her name was Tessa.

NIKITA: (stricken) Was?

He steps over to her.

DUNCAN: I know about Michael.

Nikita covers her face, convulsed in tears. Duncan gathers her in 
his arms.


SCENE: BARGE--NIGHT. Nikita is curled on a low couch. Duncan 
brings two cups of tea to the couch and hands her one. He sits 
beside her.

NIKITA: (blowing on the tea) I like what youíve done to the place.

He looks around: the barge is empty of everything except the 
basics: a sofa, table, futon. It is as bare and comfortless as a 
monkís cell.

DUNCAN: (shrugging) I was feeling a need to get back to the 

She reaches out to lightly touch his hair.

NIKITA: In more ways than one.

He smiles slightly and shrugs again.

NIKITA: Is that how you deal with it?

DUNCAN: This time. I have used . . . other methods. When youíre 
immortal, death is as much a part of your life as dueling.

She sips her tea reflectively.

NIKITA: Immortality sucks.

DUNCAN: Sometimes.

Nikita lowers the tea cup to her knee. Her wedding ring glimmers 
in the light.

DUNCAN: Youíre still wearing your ring.

She stretches out her hand flat on her leg, looking at the ring.

NIKITA: I canít bring myself to-- (she stops, swallows, and tries 
to laugh) Itís been three months. Iíve been a widow longer than I 
was a wife.

There is a long silence.

NIKITA: Howíd you find out? Wait, let me guess. (bitterly) Methos.

DUNCAN: He came here looking for you. He said that you disappeared 
after the funeral. (He looks at her.) Where did you go?

NIKITA: (vaguely) I have no idea.

DUNCAN: (taking her hand) Can you stay awhile?

NIKITA: (whispering) Please.


SCENE: BARGE--LATER. Nikita is curled on the couch, Duncan in his 
futon. They are both staring into space. MUSIC rises: Natalie 
Merchantís "Life Is Sweet."

"Itís a pity, itís a crying shame
Theyíve pulled you down again--"

Nikita turns. Duncan looks over at the couch: the only thing he 
can see is a trail of blond hair, falling over the end of the 
couch. He closes his eyes.

DISSOLVE to FLASHBACK. Duncan in bed, gazing at the sleeping 
Tessa. He reaches over to stroke her golden hair.

"How painful it must be
to bruise so easily . . . inside--"

CUT to PRESENT. Duncan and Nikita are at the studio again, 
cleaning it up. Duncan opens a crate, while Nikita sweeps the 
dusty floor. They are quiet, losing themselves in the work.

"Itís a pity, itís a downright crime
It happens all the time--"

Nikita stops for a moment and leans on the broom. She looks at 
Duncanís back as he bends to pick up another crate, and then she 
looks to the window.

DISSOLVE to FLASHBACK. On the yacht, Michael bends down to pick up 
a coil of rope while Nikita watches from a deck chair.

"You want to stay little daddyís girl
You want to hide from the vicious world-- hindsight--"

CUT to PRESENT. Duncan and Nikita are on the barge. Duncan is 
setting a plate of something that looks like seaweed in front of 
Nikita. She looks at it doubtfully, and then sniffs it. He sits 
beside her with his own plate and nods at it as if to say, "Itís 
good." Skeptical, she takes a bite. Then, smiling with difficulty, 
she chews and swallows.

"Donít cry
You know the tears will do no good
So dry your eyes--"

CUT to studio. The studio is sparkling clean, Tessaís work neatly 
displayed on tables and empty crates. Nikita walks around, 
touching one work then the other, until she reaches the workbench. 
From the bench, she idly picks up a stray piece of wire. She 
begins bending it, shaping it.

"Your daddy heís the iron man
Battleship wrecked on dry land--"

She looks around as Duncan enters with a man in a suit. The two of 
them walk along the row of sculpture, Duncan pointing and 
explaining the pieces. The man nods, the man in the suit nods, and 
Duncan grins and gives Nikita a "thumbís up" sign.

"Your mama, sheís a bitter bride
Sheíll never be satisfied
You know and thatís not right--"

CUT to art gallery. Tessaís work is on display, being admired by 
an elite clientele. Duncan stands near the doorway, his hands 
clasped behind him and a gentle, proud smile on his face. Beside 
him, the man in the suit (obviously the gallery owner) nods in 
satisfaction. Nikita comes up beside them and links an arm in 
Duncanís. They smile at each other.

"Now donít cry
You know the tears will do no good
So dry your eyes --"

CUT to barge. Duncan, his eyes closed, is seated at the table. He 
raises his head, sniffing the air. From behind him, Nikitaís hand 
appears with a plate of pasta, loaded with a thick tomato sauce 
and meatballs. She says something, and Duncan opens his eyes and 
looks at his dinner. He sniffs it, and then a slow grin spreads 
over his face. He says something, and she sits beside him with her 
own plate. He opens a wine bottle and pours glasses for them both. 
They smile and talk easily.

"Well they told you life is hard
Misery from the start
Itís dark--itís long--itís painful--"

CUT to studio. Duncan leads a blindfolded Nikita into the room. He 
takes the blindfold off, and she looks around, blinking. All of 
Tessaís statues is gone: instead, the room is filled with the wire 
and tools Nikita needs for her own work. She turns to him with a 
smile: "For me?" she seems to say. He nods.

"But I tell you life is sweet
In spite of the misery
Thereís so much more to be grateful--"

CUT to studio, night. Nikita, seated cross-legged on the floor, 
engrossed in a piece of wire sculpture. All around are pieces of 
her work. Duncan enters, carrying a basket. He spots her and 
shakes his head indulgently.

Nikita looks up to find a bottle of wine held over her shoulder in 
front of her face. She cranes her neck back and looks up at 
Duncan. She smiles a "hello."

He settles on the floor beside her and begins unpacking the 
basket: bread, cheese, fruit. Nikita looks down at her dirty hands 
and holds them out, saying something. Duncan nods, still unpacking 
the basket. Nikita gets up and crosses to the bathroom in the far 

"Well who do you believe
Who will you listen to-- who will it be?
`Cuz itís high time that you decide
In your own mind--"

CUT to bathroom. Nikita washes her hands and then looks up at 
herself in the mirror. Her hair is in a tangled ponytail, and her 
face is spotted with dirt and paint. Slowly she takes a cloth and 
wipes the dirt from her face. She undoes the ponytail and combs 
out her hair with her fingers.

She takes a deep breath, and, without removing her gaze from her 
reflection, slides off her wedding ring. She looks at it a long 
moment, and then she slips it into her jeans pocket.

"For they told you life is hard
Misery from the start
Itís dark-- itís long-- itís painful--"

She opens the bathroom door. Across the way, Duncan looks up and 

"But I tell you life is sweet
In spite of the misery
Thereís so much more-- be grateful."

CUT to barge. MUSIC stops. The door opens, and Nikita and Duncan 
enter. They are quiet, not looking at each other. Duncan sets the 
basket down on the bar.

Nikita slowly walks to the bed. She looks at it, and then she 
turns to look at him. He walks up to her slowly.

DUNCAN: Are you sure?


She lifts both hands, cupping his face in hers, and pulls him to 
her. They kiss, slowly and tentatively. For a fraction, they pull 
back and look into each otherís eyes, questioning. Then, with 
fluid urgency, they are back in each otherís arms, Duncan easing 
her back onto the bed. The scene dissolves into a montage of 
passionate lovemaking, ending with a close-up of Nikita, smiling 
with painful ecstasy, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

DISSOLVE TO WHITE. The camera pulls back and reveals the door to a 
Section One white room. It creaks open. Operations, cheroot in 
hand, steps in. He smiles.

OPERATIONS: Welcome home. Michael.

The camera pans: Michael, his face bruised and battered, his 
clothes torn and bloody, looks up from a white room chair.

ACT TWO: Worth of a Soul

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Operations closes the door behind him and steps 
further inside. He takes a puff.

OPERATIONS: You look pretty bad for a dead man.

Michael stares at him, unblinking.

OPERATIONS: Much as Iíd like to believe that youíve spent the last 
six months being tortured by Richard Wentworth, we have evidence 
that you have only spent the last four months in Wentworthís 
custody. By my calculations that leaves two months unaccounted 

Michael continues to meet his eye without responding.

OPERATIONS: Iíd like a reason NOT to cancel you, Michael.

Michael looks away. Operations sets his jaw.

OPERATIONS: Fine. Maybe youíll be more forthcoming with Madeline.

He leaves without looking back. The door creaks shut behind him. 
Michael lets his head drop, just for a moment, before the door 
opens again. Madeline steps in, followed by two Section guards.

Taking Michaelís chin delicately in her hand, she lifts his head 
and examines his injuries dispassionately.

MADELINE: (to the guards) Take him to Medical.

The guards undo Michaelís restraints. Madeline holds his chin a 
moment longer and then lets go. She steps out of the way, smiling 

MADELINE: Weíll talk soon, Michael.


SCENE: BARGE--MORNING. Duncan is in the kitchen area, pouring 
coffee. Nikita, sleep-tousled in his robe, comes up behind him.

NIKITA: Ummm-- that smells good.

Turning, he hands her a cup.

DUNCAN: Thereís croissant on the table.

NIKITA: Um, no thanks. All I want is here--

She tiptoes up to kiss him. He brushes back her hair and then 
laces his fingers in it, looking her over from eyes to chin.

DUNCAN: (in a low, throaty voice) Since the moment we met, Iíve 

NIKITA: So have I.

DUNCAN: (more seriously) We really should talk about it.

She sighs and pulls back a little to sip her coffee.

NIKITA: Do we have to? Canít we just--

DUNCAN: Take comfort in each other?

NIKITA: (after a moment) It was more than that. For me, anyway.

DUNCAN: (smiling) For me, too.

Arms wrapped around each other, they move toward the sofa.

DUNCAN: So what do you want to do today? The Louvre again? Or do 
you want to work?

They settle onto the sofa. Nikita curls against him.

NIKITA: I definitely DONíT want to work.

Duncan takes the coffee cup from her hand and sets it on the low 
table in front of the sofa.

DUNCAN: Well, if you donít want to work, that just leaves one 


Duncan leans over, pressing her back against the couch.

DUNCAN: (leering) Play--

He growls and aims for her neck, nibbling it. She giggles.

Then, they sense it: another immortal. They both look up toward 
the door as it opens.

Methos enters.


SCENE: BARGE, LATER. Duncan stands at the door of the barge beside 
a fully dressed Nikita. Methos waits inside.

DUNCAN: (to Nikita) So youíll get your things and come right back.

NIKITA: If youíre sure you want me here.

DUNCAN: (stroking her face) Iím very sure.

Nikita smiles, but then, her glance falling on Methos, frowns 

DUNCAN: Heíll be gone by the time you return. I promise.

Nikita, after a pause, nods. She kisses Duncan quickly and starts 
to leave, but he pulls her back and into his arms for a longer, 
deeper kiss. Breathless, she smiles and finally makes it out the 
door. Duncan turns into the barge and faces Methos, who leans 
against the bar, arms crossed.

METHOS: Iím sorry. If Iíd known she was here--

DUNCAN: You didnít know because I havenít seen or heard from you 
in months.

He comes back into the barge and collects Nikitaís coffee cup from 
the table, taking it to the kitchen to wash.

METHOS: How long have you--has she--

DUNCAN: Itís none of your business.

METHOS: But what about--

DUNCAN: Itís none of your business.

METHOS: (finishing) Amanda?

Duncan sets the cup down with a sigh.

DUNCAN: I havenít seen or heard from Amanda in months either. 
(With emphasis) And thatís all Iíll say on the subject.

METHOS: All right, all right. I guess even at the tender age of 
four hundred youíre old enough to make your own mistakes.

DUNCAN: Gee, thanks, old man. Now, what are you doing here?

METHOS: Richard Wentworth.

DUNCAN: What about him?

METHOS: Heís in Paris.

DUNCAN: (throwing up his hands and walking away) Oh, no--

METHOS: Mac, you donít know what he is--

Duncan stops and looks over his shoulder at Methos.

DUNCAN: (grimly) Actually, I do.

He turns away, and the camera zooms in for a close up.

From the close up of present-day Duncan, the shot DISSOLVES into a 
close up of Duncan with longer hair. The camera pulls back. He is 
dressed in 17th century clothes and standing in front of an 
impressive stone castle. A caption on the bottom of the screen 
reads: England, 1636.

Duncan looks at the castle entrance and nervously shifts around. 
He adjusts his doublet, brushes back his hair, and checks his 
breath. Finally, he sets his shoulders and marches firmly to the 
door, banging on it with the large impressive knocker. The sound 
reverberates and he jumps.

He waits. There is no answer. He looks around the lawn behind him 
and then eases the door open, stepping inside gingerly.

CUT to inside. The entranceway is large and impressive, with 
family crests and banners hanging from the walls. Duncan, his hand 
on his sword, advances trepidly.

DUNCAN: (calling out) Hello?

He heads for an archway into the next room, but just before 
reaching it he stops, sensing another immortal. His hand grips the 
sword more tightly, and he takes another step to the threshold, 
only to find a sword suddenly at his throat.

At the other end of the sword is a beautiful red-haired woman: 
Rebecca Horne, Amandaís teacher.

DUNCAN: I did knock--

REBECCA: (lowering the sword) Duncan, what are you doing here?

DUNCAN: Hopiní not to lose ma head.

REBECCA: Iím sorry--I thought-- (she stops, takes a deep breath, 
and smiles) Amanda isnít here, Iím afraid.

DUNCAN: (feigning surprise) Amanda? Ye mean that little thief who 
stole ma gold last year? I dinna come here lookiní for Amanda. 
Thatís for sure..

REBECCA: Really? Thatís a pity, for she will return this evening.

DUNCAN: She will?

REBECCA: (stifling a smile) She will. And I know she will want to 
see you. Perhaps you could keep me company until she arrives. I 
have just ordered tea.

DUNCAN: Well, I wouldna mind a spot of tea --

REBECCA: Even if itís English tea?

DUNCAN: Well, I will admit that even if it goes agin ma Scottish 
heart, no one can top the English for tea.

REBECCA: (laughing) Iím glad to know weíre good for something.

She leads the way out of the room.

CUT to later. Rebecca pours tea while Duncan perches uncomfortably 
on a delicate chair. He looks around. On the table beside him is a 
round box; the lid is ajar, and inside can be seen the gleam of 
crystals. Duncan leans over for a closer look.

REBECCA: Milk and sugar?

Duncan jerks back. Rebecca stands in front of him, holding the 

DUNCAN: (taking the cup awkwardly) No, thank ye.

REBECCA: So, Duncan, what have you been doing since last we met?

While she talks, she replaces the lid on the box and carries it 
with her across the room. She sits on a sofa and places the box 
beside her.

DUNCAN: Aye, I canna complain of boredom, thatís for sure--

They both stiffen and raise their heads: another immortal 
approaches. Rebecca quickly slides the box under a pillow on the 
sofa, grabs her sword, and stands to face the door. Duncan sets 
his tea cup down and stands as well.

DUNCAN: Is it Amanda?

REBECCA: I fear not--

She stiffens. A man steps into the doorway. He is tall and 
impressive, with silver hair and steel-gray eyes, resplendent in 
royal garb. This is Richard Wentworth. He sees Rebecca and smiles.

WENTWORTH: (bowing) Milady.

REBECCA: (warily) Milord.

WENTWORTH: You know why I have come.

REBECCA: And I know how you will depart. With empty hands. It 
remains to be seen whether you will depart with or without your 

She raises her sword. In response, Wentworth pulls his out slowly.

WENTWORTH: I should have liked to do this in a more civilized 

Duncan steps forward, pulling his own sword.

DUNCAN: Now, I dinna know much about fashion, but I do know this 
is not the way a gentleman treats a lady in her own home.

REBECCA: This is not your fight, Duncan.

DUNCAN: Aye, not now, perhaps, but I can assure his lordship it 
will be.

Wentworth looks from one to the other, and then, with a cold 
smirk, sheaths his sword.

WENTWORTH: I shall return, milady, when you are less occupied with 
your servants.

With a slight bow, he leaves.

DUNCAN: And who was that pompous ass?

Rebecca sighs and sits on the sofa, pulling the box from its 
hiding place. She looks up at Duncan.

REBECCA: A man you should stay clear of at all costs.

She places her hand gently on the box.

DISSOLVE to present day. Duncan is now leaning against the bar, 
arms crossed, while Methos sits on the sofa, bent forward, his 
elbows on his knees and his hands clasped.

DUNCAN: As far as I know, he never returned.

METHOS: Oh, he returned all right. (He looks up.) Lord Wentworth 
is not one to give up easily -- then or now.

DUNCAN: Give up on what?

METHOS: Are you being deliberately obtuse or has your new roommate 
completely addled your capacity for rational thought?

DUNCAN: (after a pause, reluctantly) You think he was after her 

METHOS: I think that since the 14th century Richard Wentworth has 
been searching for the Philosopherís Stone.

DUNCAN: The Philosopherís Stone--

Methos rises and begins pacing the room, gesturing dramatically.

METHOS: The obsession of every medieval alchemist-- the secret to 
the transmutation of matter. Water into wine, lead into gold--

DUNCAN: Mortal flesh into immortal.

METHOS: (facing him) And immortality into invincibility.

DUNCAN: Rebeccaís crystals--you called them the Methuselah Stone--

METHOS: And the Methuselah Stone was a Philosopherís Stone. One of 
three, actually.

DUNCAN: Three? Wait a minute. You never said--

METHOS: I didnít make the connection until I realized which 
journal was missing. Back in fourteen-something, I met an old 
alchemist living in the Black Forest. Crazy old guy, or so I 
thought. He told me there were three stones, only he wouldnít give 
me their exact location. All he would give me were riddles. I 
figured out that the first one was in the Mount Tambora volcano in 
Indonesia, as safe from humankind as a thing can be. The second 
one he claimed was in the hands of, and I quote, "an angel with a 
head of wings who to a son a birthright brings."

DUNCAN: Rebecca--Isaacís wife in the Old Testament.

METHOS: (nodding) Yes.

DUNCAN: "Head of wings"-- horns? Rebecca Horne?

METHOS: So the man hasnít lost all powers of deduction.

DUNCAN: What about the third stone?

METHOS: All I know is the riddle: "The Abbasid kneels on the stone 
alive, north of Mecca, for the time of five."

DUNCAN: Kneels five times--it has to be a mosque. But itís not in 
Mecca, for the center of power for the Abbasid Caliphate was in 

METHOS: Baghdad to be precise. Modern-day Iraq. Not exactly the 
place for a weekend jaunt. And somehow I doubt the authorities 
would sanction a treasure hunt through their mosques.

DUNCAN: Do you think Wentworth has found it?

METHOS: I donít know. I lost track of him after the debacle in the 
Caribbean. For a famous man, he has a remarkable capacity for 
staying out of sight. But now that I know where he is --

DUNCAN: Youíll have to find a way to stop him.

METHOS: I was hoping WE could find a way.

Duncan is shaking his head before Methos finishes. He grabs Methos 
by the arm and pushes him to the door.

DUNCAN: This time, youíre on your own, old friend.

METHOS: MacLeod, I canít do this alone.

DUNCAN: Youíve survived for five thousand years without my help. I 
imagine you can handle this little problem just fine.

At the door, he pushes Methos through and then slams the door 
behind him. He stands there a moment, and then his gaze, as if 
pulled, turns to a chest on the other side of the room. Slowly, he 
walks over and opens it.

From the chest he gently lifts out a long object, wrapped in soft 
white cloth. He opens the end: the handle of his katana sword. He 
looks at it a long moment, a muscle working in his cheek, and then 
he abruptly puts it back into the chest and closes the lid.


SCENE: MADELINEíS OFFICE. Madeline is snipping her bonsais, her 
back to the door, when it slides open. Michael stands in the 
threshold, Section guards on either side.

MADELINE: (without turning) Come in, Michael. Please sit down.

For a moment, Michael doesnít move. One of the guards pushes him 
inside. Reluctantly, he steps down and takes a chair opposite 
Madelineís desk. The guards leave.

MADELINE: (still without looking at him) What do you know about 
Richard Wentworth?

MICHAEL: Heís a very rich man.

MADELINE: He is the sole owner of one of the worldís largest media 

MICHAEL: I told him nothing about Section One.

MADELINE: You didnít have to.

Finally, she leaves the bonsais and walks to her desk chair. She 
takes a seat deliberately, watching him.

MADELINE: Heís already well acquainted with our organization.

Michael, despite himself, shows a glimmer of interest.

MADELINE: Several months ago we began receiving some strange 
requests from the DOD. They wanted us to handle the retrieval of 
supposedly important documents that had been smuggled into 
Baghdad. Only, on our arrival, we found in each case that there 
were no such documents.

Michael still maintains his blank silence.

MADELINE: After the most recent wild goose chase, we began 
investigating the source of these requests. As it turned out, they 
were all based on intel received from none other than Richard 
Wentworth. Somehow, some way, Mr. Wentworth has managed to lay 
hold of some very powerful strings, and he is making Section One 
his own private puppet show.

MICHAEL: And you think I have been helping him.

MADELINE: Actually, no. I believe you were indeed his captive over 
the last four months.

MICHAEL: And the other two?

MADELINE: (smiling) So how is Nikita?

Only the smallest quiver betrays Michaelís surprise.

MADELINE: Oh, but I guess you donít know the answer to that 
question. Perhaps I should tell you.

She turns to her computer and hits a key. An image blips on the 
monitor: an outside view of Duncanís barge. Michael watches, 
stone-faced, as Nikita emerges from the barge. She looks around at 
the beautiful morning and takes a deep breath. Smiling, she turns 
to the door as Duncan exits. She says something; he laughs, grabs 
her hand, and kisses it. They leave the barge, clasped hands 

MADELINE: This was taken three days ago in Paris. Iím sure you 
recognize Mr. MacLeod. He gave the bride away at your wedding, 
didnít he?

Michael is silent.

MADELINE: It looks to me like Mr. MacLeod has decided to take the 
bride back.

MICHAEL: You canít harm her.

MADELINE: (raising her eyebrows) An interesting response. Weíll 
have to examine that further at a later date. But for now, I have 
something else to show you.

She hits the key again, and Michael, stunned, watches the monitor: 
a little boy scampers after a ball in a park.

MADELINE: You thought youíd hidden him from us, didnít you? You 
faked his death as you faked your own, and you gave him to a 
couple in Lyons to raise.

While Michael stares at the screen, Madeline stands and walks 
around the desk, coming to a stop behind Michaelís chair. She sets 
her hands lightly on his shoulders.

MADELINE: Quite a beautiful child, isnít he? He reminds me of 
Nikita. Both so free and happy. So innocent. But after all youíve 
done, Michael, no one on earth could call you innocent--

She leans forward and speaks low in his ear.

MADELINE: And the last thing you deserve is freedom and happiness.

Michael involuntarily turns his head away.

MADELINE: Itís what you believe, isnít it? What you know, deep 
down in the soul you sold to us so long ago. You know you are not 
worthy of them. You know you belong to us.

He bends his head.

Madeline straightens and walks briskly back to her chair. She 
stands there, looking down on him.

MADELINE: The mission for Paris leaves in one hour. You will be 
briefed on the plane. Oh, and Michael, should you try to escape-- 
or if you suffer yet another unforeseen accident--

With the touch of a finger, she turns off the computer, and the 
image of Michaelís son blinks out of existence.

ACT THREE: Reaping Returns

SCENE: OUTSIDE BARGE-- NIGHT. Duncan is seated on the side of the 
barge, an untouched glass of wine in his hand as he stares off at 
Notre Dame in the distance. The barge door opens, and Nikita steps 
out. She makes her way along the edge to where Duncan is sitting 
and she plops down.

NIKITA: Well, thatís it. Iím all settled in.

DUNCAN: (distracted) Good.

NIKITA: Of course, there wasnít much room. I had to throw out a 
few of your things.

DUNCAN: Of course.

NIKITA: But Iím sure you can find another original Picasso.

DUNCAN: No problem. (Then, realizing what she has said) What?

NIKITA: (with a smile) Just making sure youíre still with me.

He smiles back and takes her hand, carrying it to his lips.

DUNCAN: Iím with you.

With her free hand, Nikita takes the glass from him. She sips the 

NIKITA: So what were you thinking about?

He takes the glass back and stares into it.

DUNCAN: Nothing important.

Nikita leans forward to look into his face.

NIKITA: Youíre worried about him.

DUNCAN: Heíll be fine. He always is.

NIKITA: Still--I imagine he could use some help.

He sets the glass down.

DUNCAN: That doesnít mean we have to.

NIKITA: I know, but--

She shrugs. Duncan smiles, and they stand together.

NIKITA: Of course, Iíve got nothing to wear.


SCENE: ELEGANT HOTEL BALLROOM. The ballroom is set up for a 
fashion show. All along the runway, sulky models strike sulky 
poses while around them mingle the rich and the jeweled. The 
camera pans the room and stops on Wentworth: a man of wealth and 
power even in this century. He is in the center seat of a table at 
the far end of the room, with a beautiful brunette on one side and 
what looks like a lawyer on the other side. The brunette says 
something and Wentworth leans over to catch it--then his head 
raises up again as he senses the approach of another immortal. He 
turns to the door.

Nikita enters. She is dressed in a skin-tight sophisticated black 
dress, barely held up by two silver strings. She looks around, and 
her eyes lock with Wentworth. A hint of a smile crosses her lips.

Wentworth holds up a glass and nods a greeting.

Nikita crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows inquiringly. 
Wentworth smiles. He sets down the drink and rises to his feet, 
smoothing his suit into place. He says something to the lawyer 
and, ignoring the brunetteís inquiries, he crosses the room to 
Nikita. They exchange a few words. She reaches out to run a finger 
along his lapel. He smiles again, takes her elbow, and leads her 
out of the room.

The camera pans the room again. At the other end, in the shadows, 
Michael watches, stone-faced.


SCENE: OUTSIDE HOTEL. In a car across the street from the hotel 
entrance are Duncan and Methos.

METHOS: Are you sure about this?

DUNCAN: Sheís just going to case the place and then sheís out of 

METHOS: Yes, well, letís hope Wentworth lets her out of there with 
her head.

DUNCAN: Nikita can handle him. I know. I trained her.

METHOS: Yes, well, the last time I sent a friend to check out 
Richard Wentworth, things got a little out of hand.

Duncan sighs.

DUNCAN: All right. Iíll go hang out in the lobby. If sheís not 
downstairs in twenty minutes Iíll go after her.

METHOS: Thatís more like it.

Methos settles back into the seat comfortably. Duncan rolls his 
eyes and gets out.


SCENE: HOTEL LOBBY. Michael exits the ballroom and heads for an 
elevator. He gets on and, just as the doors close, Duncan enters 
from the street.


SCENE: PENTHOUSE SUITE. Wentworth is standing by the bar, pouring 
drinks. Nikita is walking around the room toward him, 
surreptitiously checking the place out. She reaches him just as he 
finishes with the drink.

WENTWORTH: (handing her a drink) Well at least I know you donít 
carry a sword.

NIKITA: How can you be sure?

WENTWORTH: Thereís no room for one in that dress.

She smiles, and they clink glasses. She begins touring the room 

NIKITA: I find all this fighting to be . . . counterproductive. 
Donít you?

WENTWORTH: Oh, most definitely.

NIKITA: (posing for him in front of the window) Thereís so much 
more to life.


SCENE: HALLWAY OUTSIDE PENTHOUSE. Michael exits the elevator and 
heads for the door to the penthouse. He stops and leans against 
the door.

MICHAEL: Iím in position.

BIRKOFFíS VOICE: Perimeter team ready.

Michael takes out a thingamajig and attaches it to the door.

CUT to Section One--Birkoffís station. He is looking at a monitor: 
there are two figures in the penthouse.

BIRKOFF: Wentworth isnít alone.

CUT back to Michael in the hallway.

MICHAEL: He left the ballroom with one of the models. What are 
their positions?

BIRKOFFíS VOICE: One of them is standing by the window, straight 
ahead. The other is to your right.

MICHAEL: All right. Start sequence.

He pulls out a gun and then breaks down the door with a swift 

CUT to inside penthouse. Nikita at the window, turns, and sees 

NIKITA: (stunned) Mi -

He shoots her. She falls. Then he turns the gun on Wentworth.

MICHAEL: Come with me, please.

Wentworth smiles arrogantly and sets down his drink.

WENTWORTH: You know thatís not going to happen.

Michael looks around and spots Wentworthís sword in the umbrella 
rack beside the door. Still holding the gun on him, he steps over 
to the rack and slowly pulls the sword out.

MICHAEL: Yes, it is.

Wentworthís face darkens.


SCENE: PENTHOUSE HALLWAY. Michael exits with Wentworth just as two 
second team ops arrive on the elevator. He hands Wentworth over to 
them, and the three get on the elevator. Michael does not join 

EXTRA OP: Michael, what are you--

MICHAEL: Iím going to secure the room. Iíll follow you down.

The elevator doors close, and Michael turns back to the penthouse.

CUT to inside penthouse. Michael enters and crosses over to 
Nikitaís body. He looks down at her for a long moment, and then he 
looks around the room. He spots a desk and crosses to it. He takes 
a pen from the desk, quickly writes a note on hotel stationery, 
and then folds the paper in half, labeling it with a large "N." He 
takes the note to Nikitaís body and, kneeling beside her, slips it 
into her hand. For a moment he watches her. His hand reaches out 
to stroke her hair, but then he pulls back. Blindly, he heads for 
the door.

Crossing the room, he stumbles over something, knocking it down. 
He looks at his feet: Wentworthís briefcase.


SCENE: HOTEL LOBBY. Duncan, pretending to look at tourist 
brochures in a rack near the bank of elevators, sees an elevator 
arrive and then senses an immortal. He turns with a smile, 
expecting Nikita, but the smile fades as he sees the extra ops 
exit with Wentworth. He and Wentworth stare at one another as they 

The ops leave the hotel with Wentworth. Duncan boards the elevator 
they vacated and hurriedly pushes a button. Just as the door 
closes on him, the other elevator opens and Michael steps out, 
briefcase in hand.


SCENE: STREET OUTSIDE HOTEL. Methos, in the car, sits up as he 
sees Wentworth leaving the hotel with the extra ops. Quickly, 
Methos jumps out of the car and starts across the street.

The Section van pulls up, and the ops load Wentworth inside, 
following behind him. The door closes just as Methos arrives.

METHOS: (banging on the door) Hey, where are you -

A voice behind him interrupts.

MICHAEL: Open the door.

The van door opens. Methos turns.

METHOS: My God! Michael!

Michael holds up a gun. He no longer has the briefcase.

MICHAEL: Get in.

He pushes Methos into the van, closes the door, and then gets into 
the front seat.


The van drives away.


SCENE: BARGE, LATER. Nikita is seated on the sofa, her knees 
pulled up and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Duncan is 

DUNCAN: It had to be a mistake..

NIKITA: It was him.

DUNCAN: Heís not immortal, Nikita. He could not have survived that 

NIKITA: He could if he wasnít in the house.

DUNCAN: Then why didnít he contact you? Why let you go on thinking 
he was dead?

NIKITA: I donít know.

Duncan watches her a moment, and then steps toward her urgently, 
kneeling in front of her.

DUNCAN: Yes, you do. Heís back with them.

She looks away, her expression contracting.

DUNCAN: He could have gotten away if he really wanted to. He chose 
them, Nikita.


He sits on the sofa beside her, gathering her into his arms. She 
curls against him in a ball.

DUNCAN: I wonít stand by and watch you get sucked back into all 
that. Just because youíre immortal doesnít mean you canít lose 
your soul

Slowly, Nikitaís hand opens up: clutched in it is Michaelís note, 
now crumpled.

NIKITA: I have to see him.

DUNCAN: Then Iím coming with you.

NIKITA: Duncan --

DUNCAN: No arguments.

She sits up and faces him..

NIKITA: You canít. I have to do this alone. Heís my husband--

DUNCAN: (darkly) I remember. The question is whether he does.

NIKITA: And itís a question only I can ask him.

He looks away, trying to think of an answer.

NIKITA: Besides. You have to find Methos.


SCENE: SECTION ONE MORGUE. On the far side of the room is a large 
furnace. On the near side is a row of empty gurneys. Beside them 
next to the door is a desk, cluttered with paper, a pizza box, and 
a radio, and over the desk is a white board with names in one 
column and check marks in a second column.

The door opens, and a gurney is pushed inside. On the gurney is a 
body, covered with a sheet, and a lidded coffee cup balanced on 
top. Pushing the gurney is a Section operative. Nicknamed Reaper, 
he is tall, skinny, and ghoulish, with stringy long hair and a 
dirty skull-and-crossbones t-shirt.

Reaper pushes the gurney toward the furnace, stowing it to the 
side. He then opens the furnace door, checking the fire. He 
adjusts the temperature on an adjacent gauge: the fire grows 
hotter. He nods, closes the furnace door, and retrieves his coffee 
cup. Removing the lid, he moves to the desk and sets the cup down. 
He helps himself to a slice of pizza and turns on the radio. A 
Megadeath song blares as he searches the desk for something.

Unable to find what he needs, he goes into a supply closet on the 
other side of the room. The outer door opens, and Michael slips 
inside. He crosses quickly to the desk and pours the contents of a 
small vial into the coffee. He slips back out of the room just as 
Reaper re-enters.

Reaper crosses to the desk, a thick pen in his hand. On the 
chalkboard he writes "PIERSON" in large black letters. He caps the 
pen and picks up his coffee cup. Turning to the furnace he sips 
the coffee.

Still sipping, he walks over to the body on the gurney and pulls 
back the sheet. The form on the gurney is Methos.

Reaper yawns. He sets the coffee down on the gurney and turns 
toward the furnace. Just as he reaches the furnace door, he starts 
wobbling. He braces himself against the wall, but then he slowly 
slides to the floor, unconscious.

Michael re-enters. He crosses immediately to the desk and shuts 
off the radio.

METHOS: Thank you.

Michael turns. Methos is sitting up, holding his head.

METHOS: For a moment there I thought I had finally made it to 

MICHAEL: We havenít much time.

METHOS: (getting off the gurney carefully) Christ, what did those 
bloody twins give me?

MICHAEL: (moving to the door to check the hall) They cancelled 

METHOS: You make me sound like a bad check.

Michael comes back into the room and begins setting things to 
right. He pours out the coffee, drags Reaperís body to the desk 
chair, and with the black pen puts a check beside "Pierson." 
Methos comes up beside him.

METHOS: Is that pizza?

MICHAEL: We havenít time.

METHOS: So you said.

Michael moves to the door again and looks out.

METHOS: I guess that means Iíll have to wait for an explanation.

MICHAEL: Yes. (He gestures.) Itís clear.

Methos walks over to him slowly.

METHOS: What about Wentworth?

MICHAEL: Iíll take care of him.

METHOS: And Nikita?

Michael, without a word, leaves the room.

METHOS: (following) Could I at least get my sword back?


SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Wentworth is strapped to a chair, facing 
Madeline. She is standing, arms crossed, at her most intimidating, 
but he is calm and unimpressed.

MADELINE: How did you become aware of Section One?

WENTWORTH: It is the information age. And I am in the information 

MADELINE: And how were you able to use the DOD to gain access to 

WENTWORTH: (with an arrogant smile) General Whitaker has been most 
obliging, no doubt motivated by another tidbit of information I 
uncovered about his unfortunate predilection for pretty boys.

Madeline uncrosses her arms and steps toward him, her eyes 

MADELINE: You are being remarkably forthcoming.

WENTWORTH: (smoothly) I was hoping to spare myself the, uh, rigors 
of your interrogation techniques.

MADELINE: Or you are seeking to divert our attention. What exactly 
were you after in Baghdad?

The door creaks open, and Michael enters. He stands by the door, 
just looking at Wentworth. The immortal stiffens.

WENTWORTH: (slightly agitated) Look, itís the truth. The video of 
Whitaker is in a safe in the main office of my corporate 

Madeline looks from Wentworth to Michael and back again.

MADELINE: Weíll check it out.

She looks back at Michael and gestures with her head for him to 
leave. With one final intense look at Wentworth, she follows 
Michael out.

CUT to hallway outside white room. Michael waits for Madeline to 
exit. She does so, closing the door and facing him.

MADELINE: (bluntly) Heís afraid of you.

MICHAEL: Heís afraid of us.

Madeline looks at him, trying to make out his expression.

MADELINE: Prepare a team to retrieve the videotape.

MICHAEL: And the General?

MADELINE: Weíll let the DOD handle him.

Michael nods and turns to leave.

MADELINE: Michael.

He stops and looks back over his shoulder.

MADELINE: (slowly, with emphasis) Section One is a very powerful 
organization, and as its caretakers we have a great 
responsibility. We cannot allow it to become the tool of any 
individual or institution. To serve the greater good, we maintain 
our secrecy and our autonomy.

MICHAEL: I know.


She steps forward.

MADELINE: (intently) Do you?

MICHAEL: (after a long moment) Yes, I do.

MADELINE: (backing off) Then you know what you have to do.


SCENE: RESTAURANT. It is late, and the restaurant is nearly 
deserted. A pair of love struck teenagers sit on one side, and in 
a rear booth sits Nikita. She is fingering a napkin nervously and 
watching the door.

The teenage boy gets up and goes over to the jukebox. He puts in 
quarters and punches songs. MUSIC rises: Natalie Imbrugliaís 

"I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm-- he came around
He was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry-- "

The restaurant door opens and Nikita stiffens. An older couple 
enters, and she subsides back into her seat, staring morosely at 
her drink.

"Well you couldnít be that man I adored
You donít seem to know--seem to care
What your heart is for
I donít know him anymore--"

From behind Nikita comes a familiar, soft voice.

MICHAEL: Josephine.

She turns, startled. Michael stands behind her. She watches dumbly 
as he moves to take the seat opposite.

NIKITA: I canít believe it.

MICHAEL: Iím sorry.

NIKITA: But-- but how? Why?

He looks down and, after a moment, slides an envelope from his 
jacket pocket. He sets it on the table in front of her.

"Thereís nothing where he used to lie
My conversation has run dry
Thatís whatís going on--"

NIKITA: Whatís this?

MICHAEL: Divorce papers. All you need to do is sign.

Convulsively, she reaches across the table for his hands.

NIKITA: Michael, no-- donít do this--

MICHAEL: I have no choice.

He gently releases his hands from her grip and eases out of the 
booth, looking down at her.

MICHAEL: All you need to is sign the papers and youíre free.

"Nothingís fine--Iím torn
Iím all out of faith
This is how I feel
Iím cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor--"

She stands to face him.

NIKITA: I donít want to be free. Not of you. "Whither thou goest--

MICHAEL: (stepping back) No.

With one last look, he turns toward the door. She starts to follow 
him, but then stops and watches him leave.

"Illusion never changed into something real
Iím wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
Youíre a little late
Iím already torn."

MUSIC stops as the door closes.

CUT to outside restaurant. Nikita exits, carrying the envelope in 
her hands. She stops for a moment and looks around, as if unsure 
where to go. Finally, she pockets the envelope and starts down the 
street. It is cold, and she turns up the collar of her coat and 
shoves her hands in the pockets.

As she passes an alley, a man jumps out. He presses a cloth 
against her mouth and nose. She struggles, but the cloth is soaked 
with chloroform and she soon falls, unconscious.


SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Nikita wakes and finds herself strapped to a 
gurney. Struggling, she lifts her head.

Across the room stands Michael.

MICHAEL: Good morning.

ACT FOUR: On the Job

SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Nikita watches as the Torture Twins unlock her 
restraints. She sits up, rubbing her wrists. The Torture Twins 
look at Michael, who nods and dismisses them. The door creaks shut 
behind them.

NIKITA: (coldly) You son of a bitch.


NIKITA: You set me up.

MICHAEL: It had to be done.


MICHAEL: It was my job.

Nikita jumps off the gurney and advances to him, her rage breaking 

NIKITA: Your JOB?! My God, Michael, after all weíve--how could 

She stops suddenly at a horrible thought.

NIKITA: Oh, my God, you told them, didnít you? You told them that 

He grabs her by the throat and swings her around hard against the 
wall, holding her there by sheer force.

MICHAEL: (intensely) They found out about our plan to fake our 
deaths and run away together. Wentworth grabbed me and pumped me 
for information about Section One. A Section team retrieved me in 
a raid on Wentworth, and now the Section has retrieved you. DO YOU 

Nikita, after a long agonizing moment, nods with difficulty.

NIKITA: (her voice strangled) Why didnít they cancel you?

MICHAEL: They didnít need to.

NIKITA: Why not?

Slowly, his grip eases and he slides his hand away.

MICHAEL: They have my son.

Eagerly, she moves forward.

NIKITA: Then why donít we--

This time he grabs her forearms and holds her against the wall.

MICHAE: No. Before--our life before was just a fantasy. THIS is 
the reality. This is where I belong.

NIKITA: And what about me?

MICHAEL: Theyíre going to cancel you.

He leans in closely, putting his lips to her ear.

MICHAEL: (whispering) Let them.

He pulls away and looks at her. Nikita, digesting what he has 
said, smiles contemptuously.

NIKITA: I always said I wasnít afraid to die.

Slowly, Michael drops his hands.

MICHAEL: I am sorry.

In a flash, she grabs him by the head and pulls him to her, 
kissing him fiercely. His hands move back to her arms as if to 
push her away, but he ends up gripping them again.

She breaks away abruptly.

NIKITA: Add that to your catalogue of memories, Michael.

She walks away. He stands as if unable to move or think. Then, 
slowly, he gathers himself and leaves. At the door, he turns back 

MICHAEL: Good-bye, Nikita.

The door closes behind him. Nikita, rubbing her throat and arms, 
starts pacing the room. Finally, she stops and looks up at the 

NIKITA: I wonder if I might have a word with you, Madeline. Call 
it my last request.

CUT to Madelineís office. She is at her desk, observing Nikita on 
the monitor. She turns off the computer and rises.

CUT to white room. Nikita is seated on the gurney, one leg up with 
an arm around it. When the door opens and Madeline enters, she 
drops the leg and leans forward, her hands bracing her on either 

MADELINE: What is it, Nikita?

NIKITA: Canceling me would be a mistake.


NIKITA: Iím one of the best operatives the Section has ever had.

MADELINE: And one of the most difficult to discipline.

NIKITA: Difficult but not impossible.

MADELINE: True, but there comes a point when it is no longer cost 
effective to maintain surveillance on potentially rogue 

NIKITA: Is it cost effective to dispose of your two best 
operatives at a time when the Section is proving to be vulnerable 
to outside influences?

MADELINE: What do you mean?

NIKITA: Well, you might as well cancel Michael as soon as youíve 
disposed of me. You saw his reaction. When Iím dead, heíll be a 
basket case.

MADELINE: I think we can get a little more mileage out of Michael.

Nikita gets up and walks around the room in Madeline fashion.

NIKITA: Yes, but wouldnít it be better to salvage us both?

MADELINE: And what would prevent you from trying to escape again?

NIKITA: The same thing that holds Michael here. His son.

MADELINE: You make an interesting case, Nikita. But thereís still 
the problem of you, shall we say, squeamishness at the more 
distasteful aspects of the job.

NIKITA: (after a moment) Give me a test.




SCENE: WHITE ROOM. Wentworth is still strapped to a chair. 
Suddenly, he looks up, sensing another immortal.

The door opens, and Nikita enters. She carries a nine-millimeter. 
Madeline follows her inside and closes the door.

Nikita steps up to Wentworth. She lifts the gun and points it at 
him. He smiles and starts to say something.

Nikita fires, point blank.

She lowers the gun and turns to Madeline.

NIKITA: All right?

MADELINE: For now.

Nikita heads for the door, but Madeline stops her.

MADELINE: There will be further tests.

Nikita nods and leaves. Madeline steps forward to check 
Wentworthís pulse. She drops his wrist, and then stands looking at 
him for a long time.


SCENE: SECTION ONE MORGUE. Reaper pushes in another gurney with a 
body on it. He leaves the gurney by the furnace, and then crosses 
to the white board. He writes "WENTWORTH" on it, and then suddenly 
he is hit from behind. He falls to the floor.

The camera pulls back. Wentworth takes the pen from Reaperís hand 
and puts a check beside his own name. He drops the pen on the 
desk, gives the Reaper a contemptuous kick, and then leaves.


SCENE: WENTWORTHíS PENTHOUSE. The door opens and Wentworth, dirty 
and ragged, enters and hurriedly crosses to his desk.. He looks 
through drawers and all around the desk. Angered at not finding 
the journal, he begins throwing things.

Suddenly he stops and raises his head. The penthouse door opens, 
and Methos steps inside, followed by Duncan.

Methos pulls his sword and advances to Wentworth, who backs away 
as far as he can. When Wentworth hits the wall, Methos moves 
quickly to hold the sword to his throat.

METHOS: I believe you have something that belongs to me.

WENTWORTH: No, I donít--it isnít here--I swear--

Duncan, stepping up to the desk, idly picks up a stray piece of 
paper and examines it.

DUNCAN: What a shame.

Wentworth whimpers.

METHOS: Whatís the matter, Wentworth? Are you afraid to DIE?

He whimpers again.

DUNCAN: (to Methos) I guess that answers the other question. He 
does not have the Stone.

Methos smiles.

METHOS: I do love a good quickening.

With a yell, he swings.


SCENE: MICHAELíS OFFICE. Michael is at his desk, as of old, but he 
is not working on his computer. Instead, he is reading Methosís 

Closing it, he glances up at his window: Nikita moves into view. 
Michael slides the journal into his desk as she enters. She stops 
inside the door, leaning against the frame.

NIKITA: Deja vu.

MICHAEL: What do you want?

She comes inside, slowly circling his desk to stand beside his 
chair. Then, she turns a bit and leans against it, taking an 
envelope from her pocket. She drops it on the desk in front of 

NIKITA: I came to give you your divorce. Signed, sealed, and now 

He looks at the envelope without touching it.

NIKITA: Youíre a free man, Michael. (She laughs.) Thatís really 
quite ironic, isnít it. What they call a paradox.

MICHAEL: Nikita--

NIKITA: Youíre free to do your job, and then go home every night 
to beat your chest and moan, "mea culpa, mea culpa."

MICHAEL: Itís not like that.

NIKITA: Itís exactly like that. You have some really wrong ideas, 
Michael, about me--and about yourself. You think somehow that you 
deserve this life, that itís your fate to be sacrificed to the so-
called greater good served by the almighty Section One.

MICHAEL: Yes, I do.

She sighs, uncrosses her arms, and strokes his hair back gently.

NIKITA: Poor, lonely Michael--

Her hand travels down his face slowly, and then she suddenly grabs 
his throat and shoves him, his chair rolling, back against the 
wall. She leans close and whispers.

NIKITA: I donít believe in fate, Michael, and one day youíre going 
to see Iím right.

MICHAEL: You canít -

NIKITA: Yes, I can.


Nikita loosens her grip, and then she slides both hands up under 
his hair, bending close so her lips almost touch his.

NIKITA: Iím going to save your son, and Iím going to save you--


NIKITA: And Iím going to destroy Section One.

She smiles, kisses him with an affectionate smack, and then 
saunters to the door. At the threshold, she stops and looks back.

NIKITA: See you on the job, Michael.

She leaves.


SCENE: ARTISTíS STUDIO. Duncan and Methos wander around the room, 
looking at Nikitaís wire sculptures. Duncan brushes dust off a 
smaller piece, and then turns to look at the largest piece, in the 
center of the room.

METHOS: Did he say what he wanted?


METHOS: Did you tell him about Wentworth?


METHOS: Did he tell you anything about Nikita?


METHOS: Can you form words of more than one syllable?

Duncan looks back at him.


METHOS: Very funny. Maybe in your next life you can be a stand-up-

He stops when the door opens. They turn, and Michael enters. He 
carries a large black bag and an envelope.

METHOS: The Dark Shadow returns. Bearing gifts even.

Michael crosses the room to them and hands the bag to Methos.

MICHAEL: I have completed the assignment you gave me.

METHOS: You found the journal--

MICHAEL: (after a pause) Yes.

Methos takes the bag and sets it on the workbench. While he opens 
it, Michael turns to Duncan and hands him the envelope.

MICHAEL: This is for you.

Duncan takes it without a word. The two men stare at each other, 

METHOS: Oh, my God -

Michael and Duncan turn. Methos lifts a black cloth from the bag: 
nestled inside it are a collection of crystals.

METHOS: You found the Stone.


DUNCAN: In a mosque? In Baghdad?

MICHAEL: Yes. Wentworth had been arranging for Section One teams 
to search various locations, but he never found the right one. I 

METHOS: Is it all here?


METHOS: What--

MICHAEL: I destroyed one of the crystals. It has never and will 
never be used.

METHOS: But--Michael, this was your chance--do you know what this 
could have done for you?

MICHAEL: I know.

He looks at Duncan.

MICHAEL: No one should have that kind of power.

After a moment, Michael turns to leave.

DUNCAN: Michael--

Michael stops and turns slowly back. Duncan steps up to him and 
holds out his hand.

DUNCAN: Good luck to you.

MICHAEL: (shaking his hand) Iíll watch out for her. In this life.

DUNCAN: And Iíll watch out for her in the next.

Michael, with a quick nod, leaves. Duncan looks back at Methos, 
who is staring at the crystals dumbly.

METHOS: I canít believe he did that--

Duncan shakes his head and then turns his attention to the 
envelope Michael gave him. He opens it and takes out a letter. 
Walking away from Methos, he reads:

NIKITAíS VOICE: "Duncan-- I know you wonít be able to understand 
what Iím doing, but I have to ask you to respect it. Iíve come to 
realize that this immortality is not a curse, but a gift. Section 
One is an abomination that must be stopped, and now I have the 
strength and the time to do it. And, in the process, I might be 
able to find something of the soul I know still lives in the man I 

Duncan looks up at Nikitaís tallest wire sculpture: two figures 
bent together, similar to Tessaís "Enamorata," only in this 
version one figure touches another.

He looks back at the letter.

NIKITAíS VOICE: I thank you with all my heart for what you have 
done for me--

CUT to Section One, main area. Nikita enters from a hallway and 
crosses toward Birkoffís station. Her letter continues in voice 

NIKITAíS VOICE: And I believe with all my soul that we will meet 
again one day. Love, Nikita."

Nikita, halfway to Birkoff, suddenly stops. She stares at Birkoff, 
a slow smile spreading, and then slowly walks up to him. She 
stands by his desk, looking down.

BIRKOFF: (glancing up) What?

NIKITA: Uh --nothing.

BIRKOFF: Why are you looking at me that way?

NIKITA: Oh, letís just say Iím seeing you in a different light.

BIRKOFF: Yeah, well, cut it out. Youíre giving me the creeps. 
Besides, Madeline wants to see you in her office ASAP.

Nikita nods and starts away, but then she stops and leans over his 

NIKITA: So what are you doing after your shift?

BIRKOFF: Who wants to know?

NIKITA: I thought you might be interested in taking up a new 
hobby. Something like-- fencing.

BIRKOFF: Fencing? No, thanks. Iíll take a nine-mill over a sword 
any day.

NIKITA: (with a smile) You never know. A sword might come in real 
handy some day.

She winks and leaves Birkoff staring at her.

BIRKOFF: (shaking his head) Weirdness.


SCENE: MADELINEíS OFFICE. Madeline is at her bonsais, her back to 
the door. Nikita enters and hops down the steps, stopping in the 
middle of the floor.

NIKITA: You wanted to see me?

Madeline turns. There is a gun in her hand. She points it and 

CUT to later. Nikita is on the floor of Madelineís office, her 
shirt front bloody.

Nikita stirs, opening her eyes, and looks up dazedly. Madeline is 
standing beside her, looking down, her head tilted slightly.

NIKITA: What--

MADELINE: Very interesting.