The air was cold, dry and numbing. Tiny, frosted ice crystals tickled his ears, eyelashes and neck, the only parts that were exposed. He dare not rub at them, any sudden movement could prove fatal. He lay as still as possible despite the throbbing pain in his leg. They were still close by, persistently and systematically hunting for him. His only chance lay in remaining undetected. With eyes darting quickly he judged the next move, roll to the right and flatten out. Executing the maneuver he came to another rest. Counting to ten, he again moved, this time more forward and right on his belly -- flat as possible. The pain in the leg increased as he pressured it to perform. He finally reached the next safe spot and slowly let out a silent sigh of relief. He heard them looking for him where he had just been, no doubt using heat detectors by now, he would have to move again and quickly. Folding himself into a crouch to sprint, the leg spasmed, crumbling beneath him and giving way under his weight. He stumbled falling with a grunt that could not be withheld. She was on him instantly.

"Bang-bang your dead. Roll over and put your hands in the air, I want to enjoy this."

"Kita, the leg gave out, it's badly sprained."

"No matter Michael, you're dead, hands up, come on, up, up." She motioned with her weapon held on him.

He rolled over and put his hands up, the rest of the team started hooting and clapping, overjoyed that they were the team to catch Michael. Nikita placed her booted foot on his stomach as if posing over the captured victim. It was a high prestige kill, despite his injury. Michael had a 33-1 track record before today. Now it would be 34-2, still impressive, but not perfect.

Birkoff giggled as he watched the monitor from the observation van. Nikita wouldn't let him forget this one for a long time to come. Madeline finished her log entry and looked up at the sound of the celebration. She smiled, Mona Lisa-like and stood to stretch her back. It had been a long and tedious exercise and the van was cramped with all the extra gear stowed in it for foul weather. Birkoff ended the sequence and sent the recall signal, alerting Medical Bay that there was a minor casualty.

Two male team members helped support Michael and half-carried him over to and into the van. Everyone piled in, secured their weapons and prepared to return to Section. Michael sat gingerly on the floor of the van, wincing at every hard bump that disturbed his injured leg. Nikita sat above him, his head between her legs. She was silently enjoying a fantasy that also had Michael between her legs, but facing her. Everyone was literally sitting on top of each other in the cramped quarters. Madeline watched him, seeing he was clearly uncomfortable and offered comment.

"You shouldn't have continued after slipping on that ice Michael. It gave Nikita's team too much of an advantage. I may have to void the exercise."

"No, the exercise was modeled as real-life. That could have actually happened on a mission, it should stand. I was caught."

Nikita looked at him surprised, generosity wasn't one of Michael's usual concerns. Maybe she WAS rubbing off on him, more than he realized. Then she thought of some other places she wished he would rub her. The rest of the return trip continued in silence. Helping hands assisted Michael out of the van and over to the waiting gurney. Nikita followed behind until Madeline reached out, taking her by the arm.

"Come with me please." It was a quiet command, not to be questioned. Nikita followed Madeline back to her office. "Please sit." Nikita sat. "Do you think I should void the exercise?"

Nikita answered quickly, still on a high from defeating the best of the best. "No, Michael was right, that could have actually happened like that on any mission. We never know what we'll be up against you know."

"Would you have done the same for any other target? Or were you intent on continuing because the quarry was Michael?" Madeline sat down behind her desk, hands folded primly before her, and expression unreadable.

"We defeated him, wasn't that the goal?"

"Not entirely. You haven't answered my question."

Nikita squirmed in her seat. She knew what Madeline was about, wanting her to concede that she just wanted to best HIM. She wondered if Madeline had caught her fantasizing about him in the van, she hoped her expression hadn't given her away.

"I followed orders. Hunt and defeat the target. I would have done the same for anyone, not just Michael." She hoped she sounded convincing. She kept eye contact while speaking and held it even now as Madeline silently appraised her. After a moment Madeline nodded her head once and smiled slightly.

"Thank you, that will be all Nikita. Why don't you go see how Michael is doing?"

She restrained herself from jumping out of the chair and instead rose gracefully, turned and left. She picked up her pace the further she got from Madeline's office.

They were applying alternating packs of cold and heat to his leg, keeping it elevated and his weight off it. Nothing else could be done, it was a bad sprain to the Achilles tendon. He was lucky it wasn't torn, that would have meant surgery. He looked different in white, she was so accustomed to seeing him in the customary black, finding white a stark contrast. She instantly decided that black was more affecting for him, it suited his mood and his sexy personality.

"How's the leg? Will you live to dance again?" Nikita cracked her gum and stood by the bed, one hip slung low and protruding, even now, suggestive. Her body language screamed 'I'm cocky and happy because I beat you.' She watched for his reaction through tussled bangs, blue eyes blinking innocently. He was propped up on his elbows, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and stretch pants, the injured leg exposed for treatment. His chest and abdominal muscles were quite evident through the tight fitting shirt, Nikita noticed, rather obviously she hoped. He glanced at her, noting her posture and then glanced away as if the blank wall in front of him held more appeal than looking at her.

"The prodigal daughter mocks her maker. Unbecoming Kita."

She walked around him, knowing he followed her every move with his peripheral vision. Abruptly, she smiled. A wide, warm and toothy smile, right at him like a discharging weapon. She leaned in and kissed him with open mouth, not touching him anywhere else, just mouth to mouth and held it until he flinched.

"Whoever it is has an active imagination. It seems to be someone who knows you and Michael fairly well, though I'm not sure I care for my depiction." Madeline sat on the couch with Michael as Nikita paced clutching several sheets of the story in her hands.

"This is embarrassing! Yesterday's dialog had me practically begging Michael to jump me and take me to, how was it phrased, 'new heights of erotic pleasure.' What could possibly be the purpose in all this fantasy?"

"I don't know but everyone is enjoying it. I caught Hastings making photocopies of one of the more descriptive sheets. The one with us in the gym where we're naked and using the equipment to …" Michael was interrupted by a raging Nikita.

"I KNOW which one you mean!" Nikita was livid. Her composure was being sorely tested. Whoever it was saw her as a sex-starved, posturing bimbo. Michael was evidently in the mystery writer's good graces, he was always written as sympathetic and, God, he always got his girl. Madeline was portrayed as cold, bitter and two-dimensional.

"Operations is not amused, he sees this as a waste of time and resources. It's a distraction from our work and possibly an indication of a security problem. He wants the person responsible found and stopped."

"How can these sheets turn up all over without anyone seeing who leaves them? Why can't our internal monitors ever catch him either?"

"You believe the writer is a male?" Madeline sat forward, she thought the writer to be female.

"Well, yeah. The sympathy lies with the male characters. The females, you and I, are depicted as sexual objects or domineering. That sounds like a guy exercising his fantasies to me."

"I disagree. The writer is female. For exactly the same reasons you just gave Nikita." Michael's eyes had a glint of amusement. He was enjoying this turmoil, what it was doing to Nikita.

"Operations is right, this business is causing a waste of time and assets. The divisiveness alone is disruptive. I suggest we step up our internal monitoring, I'll begin reviewing everyone's profile now currently assigned to Section. It has to be someone here with us. Agreed?"

Both Michael and Nikita shook their heads. They left together, a renewed goal to stop this writer. Birkoff looked up as he saw them approach his station.

"Any leads to our mystery writer?" Nikita shook her head no. Michael sat down and started reviewing surveillance tapes of internal areas for the previous twenty-four hours. "Whoever it is sure has a fixation on sex, huh?" He giggled and blushed as Michael gave him one of his famous stares. He returned to his work and remained silent.

After an hour Michael stopped and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't understand it, nothing was apparent or out of the ordinary. Everyone on the tapes was where they should be, doing what they should be doing. Nothing was suspicious or unusual. He was missing something, but what? He looked over at Nikita, she was tired as well, her posture was slumping as she sat at her terminal. She had been reviewing tapes as well, trying to spot something, anything that would stop this madness.

They mutually agreed to take a rest period and walked to the cafeteria together. As they passed the posting board a familiar sheet hung swaying in the slight breeze off the passageway. Nikita reached up and ripped it down. Instantly furious.

"More! Another installment! I can't stand this, now what? Am I sleeping with everyone in Section?" She hands it to Michael, too upset to read it herself. He began reading it aloud, but only loud enough for Nikita to hear.

The sun sparkled off his glistening form. Water droplets accentuating every rippling muscle as he lay in the sun watching Nikita stride towards him, her hips swaying to some internal music. Michael couldn't believe how breathtaking she was. She was beautiful, sexy and he wanted her right now. She stopped and stood before him, naked and sun-burned, golden hair flying about her face like an unruly lion's mane. She smiled at him, seeing his need, evident with the bulge in his swim trunks. Kneeling, she leaned forward using her tongue to trace small, delicate ---

Nikita ripped the sheet out of his hands before he could continue.

"It was just getting interesting Kita!" He smiled at her, again amused at the anger a few written words could evoke in her.

"I know you're enjoying this, because you always get the girl, I mean ME! We have to stop this Michael, I'm not leaving Section until we do!" He took her arm and propelled her towards the cafeteria. They both needed food. She folded the page and stuck it in her elastic waistband.

The next few hours both she and Michael patrolled Section, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning and they were tired, but determined. Every circuit one of them would pause and check in at the comm station, reviewing internal monitors for ten minutes at a time. Nikita saw Michael looking in on the Medical Bay, then leave and walk towards the gym. Not many others were active. Nothing was irregular or out of place according to the monitors. She rubbed her eyes, this was infuriating. She had to stop it.

The next day shift Operations came walking towards them at the comm station, he held a sheet of paper in his hands. Nikita swallowed, it looked like, oh no, it couldn't be…

"I found this on my desk when I arrived. It's very entertaining, but I don't care for the subject matter." He handed it to Michael who stood up from his station. "What's the progress on identifying the writer?"

"Nothing so far. We've looked at every monitor tape and even patrolled ourselves all last night. We were about to break for some sleep."

"All right. Get some rest, assign help to assist you. I want this nonsense stopped." He turned and left abruptly, heading back to his office.

Michael held the sheet up, beginning to read it to himself. Nikita sat back in her chair, exhaling sharply and closing her eyes. She was exhausted.

The sentry fell without a sound. Michael dispatched him quickly and dragged the body a few feet over to get it out of the way. Nikita smiled at his effortless action. He was so good and with so many things, she tried not to let her memories of the previous night intrude, but it was proving difficult. He had been so very virile, wanting to couple again and again until she begged him to rest...

Several hours later as he exited his sleeping area he was met with sideway glances from everyone he passed. He continued on to Birkoff's comm station meeting Nikita walking towards him.

"What's going on? Is everyone giving you the eye too?" she asked as they continued walking. He nodded and kept a straight face. He was fast becoming not so amused with all this.

Operations and Madeline were waiting with Birkoff. Birkoff didn't look happy, in fact he looked ill. Operations nodded at them and spoke aloud.

"Good morning. An interesting development has arisen. It seems these stories are coming from your laptop Michael."

Michael stood quietly, but his eyes were engaged in an internal battle not to show his anger. "How is that? I have passwords in place, I change them often… I'm certainly NOT the writer." He looked to Birkoff for clarification.

"I did an analysis of the sheets. It points only to your laptop and the printer in your office." He swallowed nervously, he was confused as any of the rest of them, but he knew his data was correct.

"Curious-er and curious-er… I want that equipment microscopically analyzed. Save Michael's files and folders then strip it down inside and out." Operations spoke to Birkoff but kept his eyes trained on Michael, looking for a reaction. "The person responsible for this will regret wasting my time." It was a simple statement, but came across as a clear threat.

Michael accompanied Birkoff to his office and gave him the access passwords for his files. The equipment and all cabling were removed carefully, under strict evidence protection protocols to the Section lab. Michael kept out of the way and did not help or interfere, lest more suspicion be cast his way.

Nikita watched from outside in the corridor. She felt sorry for him. Unless he could prove beyond a doubt that he wasn't behind this, there would be hell to pay from Operations. Madeline came up behind Nikita in the corridor.

"We have a new mission. Briefing Room in 5 minutes."

Operations was briefing them on an armored car theft ring operating so far with impunity. The artwork showed an ugly looking thug as the ringleader. As they were all staring at the face, committing it to memory the image buckled a moment then re-appeared, then morphed into scrolling text. They all began reading it as it slowly passed by.

...cabin was small but large enough to accommodate the two hot bodies.

"Oh Michael, yes! Yes! Yes! Please, no more… I can't stand it! No don't stop! Yes! Yes! Ah-h-h-h-h!!!"

Nikita writhed in his embrace, not wanting him to ever stop, but worried that they may be discovered. He was an animal! Oh how he made her feel, it was incredible! His touch, his every move sent shivers of ecstasy through every part...

Everyone else stood and filed out, Birkoff remained sitting there, still staring at the space where the text had scrolled by on the holo-display, mouth agape. He couldn't understand it, that system was his own custom creation. Nobody could possibly have hacked into it. It was utterly impossible. Madeline came back for him, brushing his shoulders to get his attention. He jumped, startled and stood to leave as well.

The Section was in a controlled uproar, nobody thought this prank humorous any longer. No one had reported finding any more sheets either. Standard procedures were followed for a Level One, which meant everyone, was restricted to Section and all outside access blocked. There were a lot of unhappy campers walking about, suspicion now turned towards anyone and everyone. They proceed at this high anxiety level for the next 12 hours until finally -- a breakthrough. The Section lab reported nothing amiss with Michael's hardware, but the ghost of an odd file fragment was detected using ultra-sensitive virus detection software. Birkoff couldn't identify it as anything of his or his associates' creation. Thus began the intense scan of all Section computer equipment, links, portable comm units and anything with any kind of a chip in it whether stand-alone or networked.

No assumptions were made, everything was scrutinized, nothing got a clean bill of heath without a thorough scrub, including Operations own equipment. After a grueling 16 straight hours of non-stop scrubbing, Birkoff declared success.

"I positively guarantee that if those files were coming off anything in house it's dead now. Nothing has been left un-scrubbed, all redundancies are in place and are running smoothly. If it comes back we'll know it's an active act of sabotage, not a leftover fragment or ghost file." Operations continued the Level One for another 12 hours then stepped it down to a Level Three, near normal activities. No sign of any stories were evident in paper or electronic device. People were happier campers due to the lifting of heavy restrictions. Things began returning to normal and Nikita was feeling a well-deserved bit of relief. She sat with Michael in the cafeteria, he was having lunch while she nibbled off his plate. It annoyed him, but after twice scolding her, he gave up and just ate faster.

"We may never identify the mystery writer Michael, does that bother you?"

"Not really, except in that it says something was inadequate with our internal security. I won't miss reading the stories."

"Madeline never even came up with a possible suspect from the profiles. Do you think she was the writer? Think about it Michael, who else would have that knowledge of us, the intimacy, the sheer..."

"Don't even say it Kita. It was all a fiction, not reality. Keep your fantasies to yourself, for your own protection. I intend to."

"So you DO fantasize about me? Well, well, now that's a revelation."

"I didn't say that, just keep them to yourself Kita."

"You kept the stories, didn't you? I bet you have a whole file of them, hidden away somewhere... for future reference Michael?"

He simply stared straight ahead and kept chewing, not giving her the satisfaction. Of course he had the stories and they were locked up, very safe indeed.

Madeline came near holding her tray, on her way back to her office to eat her lunch. She nodded to them in passing, her thoughts swirling with another installment of the Nikita and Michael Story.

THE END