Written with One Lobo
NC-17

The apartment was dark. Alexandra knew as she let herself into Kim's apartment that it would be dark.

But it seemed darker than usual. It was a trick of the mind, but knowing that didn't make it better. The shadows loomed - long, dark, foreboding. Alexandra flipped on the light, chasing the shadows back. She stood there, looking around at the apartment. She'd been here hundreds of times, right? But how often in the last month? There were plants she didn't recognize, or perhaps they'd been rearranged.

Alexandra set Pepe by the door, stroking his back.

"Anyone comes down that hall, you let me know," Alexandra told him, trailing her fingers town his tail.

Pepe turned and licked her fingers. Alexandra smiled, and stood up, turning her attention back to the room. She was here to look for clues - a reason why that mission was set up to fail. What little that Alexandra had overheard between Michael and Darren told her that the mission had been doomed from the start.

Kim was the most likely to store data - find a way to hide it. Out of everyone on that mission - she had the most computer experience. But would she hide it here? And where?

Her computer would be the last place she'd put something. It would be the first place Section would look. But that would also mean she could hide it in plain site.

Alexandra unhooked the laptop, and set it on the kitchen table. Then she began the task of combing the apartment. She examined each piece of furniture. Each leaf on each plant. Each pot, vase, dish, glass, the windows, the rugs, the floor boards. She went through the linen closet, the bed and the sheets and blankets. She examined everything in the bathroom, slid her fingers under the door edges. The last place she looked was the closet. Each piece of clothing evoked a memory. Shopping trips, sounds, a phrase, a laugh, a feeling …

Her cane was in the back of the closet. Alexandra pulled it out, the sound of the tap tap tap as Kim used it, echoing in her mind. Kim, who was strong of heart and mind, but had a bad injury - but she hadn't it slow her down. Alexandra examined the cane.. Nothing. All that his apartment held were good memories. It fairly echoed with them.

When Alexandra scooped up Pepe, she turned around and looked one last time. I should have been here more. I should have found a way to make the time . . .

Alexandra pulled the door closed behind her, and left the building. She didn't have to break into the apartment. She had a key. They all had keys to each other's apartments.

A lot of good it had done them.

************

Darren was pissed - raging pissed. Someone had been here. Someone had thoroughly searched everything. The only thing missing was Kim's laptop. The dust around picture frames had been disturbed. He went to Tony's apartment next. He found the same thing. The laptop was gone - and the dust around picture frames was again - disturbed. But he wasn't going to dust for prints.

He flipped open his cell phone, and called Birkhoff.

"Tell me who was in Kim and Tony's apartment last night," Darren snapped. His leg hurt. But he wouldn't take the painkillers. He needed his senses to be sharp. It didn't matter that Kristie had found evidence to protect them - all that mattered was that Section had been willing to see them all killed. Not Section - but Madeline and Operations.

He heard Birkhoff sigh, "You're on the medical inactive list."

"Don't fuck with me right now Birkhoff!" Darren snarled.

"You want me to pull up video surveillance?" Birkhoff asked, his tone still somewhere between bored and irritated. He was used to operatives threatening him now.

"Yes," Darren snapped, "Both their laptops are gone. I want to know who has them."

"Hold on," Birkhoff sighed.

Darren listened to Birkhoff's fingers flying across the keyboard for a few seconds. Then he stopped.

"Alex," Birkhoff said, "Looks like she went through everything with a fine tooth comb. Probably like you just did."

Darren shook his head, his anger close to boiling over. He turned his cell phone off.

************

Kristie sat in the window seat, wrapped in a sheet from the bed. She'd been up for hours. She knew she'd only slept for maybe two hours at the most.

The sun was just clearing the horizon. She could see the glow peeking between the city buildings. Below, someone on a motorcycle revved their engine, and sailed down the road. She watched them disappear around the corner. How she'd love to do that - take a few days and just get away, out of the city - away from Section - away from Madeline.

"Did you sleep at all?" Stephen's voice said softly, from the bed.

"A little," Kristie said quietly, and turned to smile at him, "Of course, after you fucked my brains out, I passed out - more than slept, but hey, it works."

Stephen grinned, "I aim to please."

She looked back out the window, "I was thinking that I'd love to get out of the city - but we'll have to settle for a small memorial of sorts."

"The Italian place?" Stephen suggested.

"Yeah," Kristie said, "I think we can get them to give us the place for a few hours - without drawing a lot of attention."

"You think Madeline will figure out it was you that did the backhacking?" Stephen asked her, getting off the bed, and moving to stand behind her. He pulled her hair back, kissed the back of her neck.

"If she doesn't, I'll be disappointed," Kristie told him, "Between Michael, Nikita me, you, Darren, and Alex, - I'm the best hack."

"You're going to get a serious ass chewing," Stephen warned her.

Kristie smiled, "Maybe, if I'm lucky - she'll decided I'm a shitty apprentice and put me back in the field."

************

Nikita knew where Michael was. She slipped down the stairwell quietly. She'd woken up in bed alone - and that only happened when Michael was out on a mission - or if he needed to escape into the paint and portraits.

She slipped quietly into the room, and gently slid her arms around his waist, pressing her thinly glad body against his naked torso. She felt the tension ebb from his body in the next few moments as she held him.

"Is this from memory?"

The portrait was just in the early stages, but Nikita could already make out who it would be. A man and a woman - Kim and Tony.

"Giovani's," Michael answered her softly, his free hand sliding down to cover Nikita's hand, "I got a phone call on my cell a few moments ago."

Nikita breathed in the scent of him, her face pressed to his neck, "From who?"

"A contact at the center. O'Reilly is his name. You met him at our wedding," Michael told her, "Very Irish."

"Oh yeah," Nikita said, "I remember him . . . I take it this wasn't a social call."

"Section is going to be audited. Mr. Jones and George will arrive today. Madeline and Operations will have no warning," Michael told her.

Nikita stilled against his back, "Audited . . . because of what happened on the Chak-chow mission?"

"That - and many other problems that have come up. Audits happen every 5 years regardless."

"The last audit we had was 3 years ago," Nikita commented, "Right after Alexandra and Darren made Level 3 . . . Did Kristie's investigation trigger this?"

"No," Michael said, "Chak-chow might have. Some of the Intel came from the Agency. George and Operations have been in a power struggle for years. George probably pushed the Center to do one early. We've had an unusually high number of missions fail - even with the talented operatives leading them."

"And some of those talented operatives would be you," Nikita finished.

"Yes, and you, Darren, Alex, Stephen's . . . The center and Oversight always watch potential candidates for the Operations position - even when the current Operations is not close to promotion or retirement. I've known for a while that I'm at the top of the list. So they'll watch me - give me a little more leeway, see what I do with it, evaluate my choices, watch my friends, my support systems."

"And we know Madeline and Operations are doing their best to undermine you - per usual," Nikita sighed, "This is never going to end, will it?"

"Not until they're gone."

************

Alexandra felt Pepe jump up, a low growl coming from his tiny throat. She sat up, grabbing her gun.

The door to her apartment swung open, slamming against the wall, and Darren hopped through on his crutches.

"Ever hear of knocking?" Alexandra snapped.

Darren waved his key at her. He made his way over to her kitchen table, scowling. Both laptops were there, a program running on each.

"I'll have to do something about that," Alexandra snapped, sliding off the bed. She was clad in a tank top and panties, but didn't bother grabbing a robe. If he didn't like it, he didn't have to look.

"Don't be stupid. Do you honestly think a new lock would keep me out?" Darren snapped at her, "And who the hell gave you the order to take their laptops?!"

"Pissed I got there first?" Alexandra asked, her voice sugary sweet, and somehow sarcastic.

"What are you doing to them?" Darren asked, leaning down to look closely at the screens.

"It's a sweeper program. It will search for all encrypted files. I didn't find any disks in their apartments," Alexandra told him.

He looked her over; taking in the way the tank top clung to her breasts, the curve of her hip and thigh, the long bare legs. A few months ago, he'd have been pulling the remains of her cloths off of her, or just pulling them aside. But not now - no matter how much he wanted to.

She noticed the way he looked at her. He knew it.

"Put some god damn cloths on Alex," Darren snapped.

"Don't like it, don't look. This is my apartment, and you're uninvited," She reminded him, "I'll pass on what I find to Michael and Nikita. You can go."

Darren looked over at her, "You actually think you'd be able to find something? You're not exactly a gifted hack."

"It's Kristie's program," Alexandra told him, "I'm a good operative - and a good operative knows when to use someone else's tools. Get out, I'm tired, I was up all night."

"Let me know what Kristie's program comes up with," Darren called over his shoulder, as he slammed her door closed behind him.

She sat there, feeling tendrils of despair starting to grip into her heart.

She could still hear the echo of the door being roughly yanked closed - and it only served to emphasize the finality of her relationship with Darren. She knew he really did love her once - but the only thing left was a little bit of lust. The same lust he felt and relieved with a prostitute.

Pepe whimpered next to her, and Alexandra lay down on the bed, and snuggled the little dog close. What would become of Pepe if she were cancelled or killed? Surely by now Kristie was on thin ice too. Madeline would be able to figure out who did the computer hack to find their evidence. There was no room in Michael or Nikita's life for the Chihuahua. Tears started to fill Alexandra's eyes, envisioning her beloved surrogate child in some animal shelter - or worse yet - becoming lap ornament to Madeline.

Walter would take care of him - or at least be able to place him with a good family. A sob racked Alexandra's body as the fear built inside her - and then the phone rang.

She yanked it up, "Yeah?" she answered, hoping her voice wouldn't crack.

"Sapphire," The voice asked.

"Yep," Alexandra replied.

"Come in."

************

"Audit?" Kristie said, crossing her arms, "Wasn't there something like that going on when I was brought in?"

"Yeah," Walter said, "Something like that. We're scheduled every 5 years - unless they have a reason to do one early. Someone found a reason."

He handed her a panel, "Help Brianna with the small firearms. I gotta account for everything."

Stephen sighed, crossing his arms, "I gotta start calling people in. I'll come back and help you, as soon as I've accounted for all the bodies I'm responsible for."

Walter briskly nodded, "Care to join in on a pool I'm putting together?"

Stephen stopped in mid-stride, "Who are the players?"

"Current management," Walter said, "Five bucks an entry."

"Has anyone put in for a total changeover?" Stephen asked him.

"I got that one," Walter told him, "Try again."

"Put your finger on the sampler," Nikita told him, "And look at that screen. We have to genetically and visually account for everyone."

Darren placed his finger over the sampler. He felt the smallest pin prick, and then sucked his finger into his mouth, barely tasting a faint coppery taste. He looked at the panel for a moment, until the text at the bottom of the screen indicated his image had been captured.

"Where can I help?" Darren asked her.

"Actually - since you're on the injured list - your up early for the psych evaluation," Nikita told him, "Report in to room 43 - they'll tell you where to go from there."

"Pysch evaluation . . . shit

She smiled and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, "Relax - you're not even close to abeyance. And right now - operatives are not the ones who are fucked - trust me."

Darren sighed, and started to hop out of the room. As he went down the hall, he saw Alexandra and her entire team come around the corner. Three of them moved closer to her when they saw him. Several pairs of eyes watched him warily.

"Hey," Alexandra said, stopping in front of him, "Got any good gossip for us?"

"Nothing good," Darren sighed, looking around him, "I gotta go report for a psych eval.

Alexandra groaned, "Great . . . you'll pass. Ask them if they know any great ways to get your head out of your-"

"Alex," Darren cut her off, "I know I'm an ass. In case I don't come back-"

She quickly pressed her hand over his mouth. Just like earlier, he didn't fight her.

"Don't talk like that," Alexandra said quickly, "You're still an asset."

Darren gently reached up, and pulled her fingers from his lips, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to them.

"Good luck," Darren said, and then his eye's drifted from her, to the rest of her team, "To all of us."

The small crowd parted to let him pass.

"So is that on again - or off again?" Kamal asked her, "Cause with you two - it's hard to tell."

They started to walk again, slower.

"We're like a storm," Alexandra sighed, "It's always changing - and not even we know in what direction."

They reached the room Michael was checking his personnel into. There was a short line of people, and the line was moving quickly.

"Hey," Seth said, "So what's the deal with this audit - I heard that this was sprung on us a little early."

The question was directed at Alexandra.

"I have my suspicions," Alexandra told him, and the rest of her team, "But they're just that. I don't know this to be fact."

"Go on," Seth said.

"Well, we've had a lot of problems lately. We just lost three cold ops from Darren's team - and he's a damn good team leader. Kristie and Stephen were kidnapped because of a security breach - granted from the agency - but it happened. There have been some poor choices in personnel for undercover work too. I suspect that the management team is being evaluated - as much as the existing personnel."

"So - in blunt terms - Operations is in the hot seat," Kamal said quietly.

"Maybe," Alexandra said, "and maybe Madeline. But I can't be sure."

"Hey," Sasaki chimed in, "You're a team leader - so you're gonna be reviewed too then?"

"Yes," Alexandra nodded calmly.

************

Michael had been dreading his psych review. Being bluntly honest could cost him - and some of the people close to him. Holding back could do the same. It was nearly impossible to tell right now. In the past, he'd avoided playing politics as much as possible. But the game had changed, so the rules had changed. He'd known for years that he was one of the top potential successors to the Operations position. He knew that his mistakes were graded a little more harshly. His successes watched closely. His personal relationships constantly watched and probed. Five years ago - if someone asked who he was close to, anyone could easily say that he had an attachment to one operative - and it wasn't a healthy relationship. But his relationship with Nikita had changed. In the past he'd called it a weakness. Now - it was his source of strength. Her loss would be devastating to him - but now, he knew he'd survive it, but just barely, and only because he had some other close friends.

He expected to be questioned about a number of things. They'd ask him how his relationship with his wife was. They'd ask some very personal questions about their habits, their sex life, the arguments they had. They'd raise issues about who did what in the household.

He also expected them to ask questions about his relationships with his female friends - and how that affected his marriage. Michael was all to aware that he'd slept with Nikita's closest friends - all in the context of a mission - but the act had still happened. Michael knew he'd been lucky that Nikita had accepted it, and not dwelled on it. But he also made sure his wife had no doubts as to who the love of his life was. Where he cared deeply for Alexandra, Kristie, and the late Kim, Nikita was Michael's one true love.

Most recently, there would be the issue of Kim's death. A past lover - someone Michael had brought in instead of canceling - against orders. Michael had bent rules over and over for his closest friends - and for some people that weren't friends - but didn't deserve what was headed their way.

Kim had been one of those people. She'd just been unlucky enough to have stumbled across some Intel Section needed. Michael had seduced her to get to it - and when it was all over, he'd realized he wouldn't have needed to seduce her. She'd probably have helped him. She wasn't a saint by any means - but she was a good person overall - and she didn't deserve to die, nor did she deserve the life she had to lead in Section one. It was the final insult that she'd been killed on a mission. Michael could still close his eyes and see the woman he approached in the Everett nightclub. Alive, loving life, living every moment to the fullest - and still managing to reach out to help a stranger. Surely - she'd been missed when she vanished into thin air that night. She would sorely be missed here.

Michael had been fond of Tony as well - but it was different. He was a friend - but Michael felt no responsibility for his presence in Section One. Tony had earned his position by taking matters into his own hands - and planning poorly. But Michael could understand that. He'd earned his own life sentence to Section One in a similar way.

Michael was just about to knock on the door to the small conference room, when Kristie walked out. She was dressed in black leather today. Black leather slacks and a black leather top. She'd pulled her hair up and fastened it with a pair of chop sticks only. She smiled smugly at Michael - the same smile she'd given him when they'd first met. She'd been another target - one he and Section had underestimated. She was also responsible for bringing back one of Michael's first friends in Section One - Stephen.

"Hey," Kristie said, "Ready to be wired, read and dissected?"

Michael looked from the door to her. Kristie had a remarkable talent for Psychology - given her lack of formal training. He knew she hated being Madeline's apprentice over the last two months too.

"No," Michael said honestly, answering her question, "When is yours scheduled?"

"Just did it," Kristie replied, "Since I worked so closely with Madeline - they wanted to get to me quickly - right in with the level 5's. I don't know what they think, but I know what I think."

One of the flaps of her collar was folded in. With gentle hands, Michael straightened it. It was an affectionate gesture - and they both knew it. Kristie and Michael would always be close.

"What do you think?" Michael asked her.

"That the king and queen are pretty much fucked," Kristie said bluntly, "I'm getting a few people together tonight at Giovanni's - a memorial of sorts for Kim and Tony. I'm telling people that we'll get together at 8."

"I'll be there," Michael told her.

Michael pushed the door to the evaluator's room open. It was time to reopen old wounds, for the greater good.

************

There were two people in the room. They had Michael apply the monitoring tabs in place. Michael knew as he did it, that even this was part of the evaluation. A blood sample was taken by a technician. He knew all kinds of bio-rythms would be monitored - and evaluated in conjunction with his body language, and his answers. He decided to be brutally honest. Kristie, his contact, and what he'd seen with his own eyes told him he was not the real target here.

"Comfortable?" The man asked.

"Yes," Michael replied, taking a sip of water, and setting the glass down.

"You've had numerous evaluations in the past, so you can probably anticipate a lot of what we're going to ask," The woman told him, "How is your personal life Michael?"

"Surprisingly good - even though I recently lost 2 close friends in the field," Michael replied.

"That would be Kim and Tony?" the woman prompted him, "And Darren was almost lost."

"Yes," Michael replied.

"How would you say this has affected you?"

"It's sad," Michael replied, "I don't think their deaths were necessary."

"How so?" the man asked.

This was a crucial moment. Now he would have to play the political game. He'd had to for months. Now it became cutthroat.

"The Intel was altered on purpose . . ."

************

Nikita was irritated. She'd gone through this before. Different faces, same type of questions. What picture would they paint of her?

"How would you compare your relationship with Michael - to the relationship you'd have with a father?" The woman asked.

Nikita sighed, "I wouldn't - and I really can't. I never really knew my father."

"But you must have some experience with father figures," The woman prompted her.

"If you count my mother's numerous boyfriends - perhaps, but I don't think there was any similarity," Nikita replied.

"How would you compare your home life now, with your home life that you had a child?" the man asked.

"Night and day," Nikita replied, "My home life now is fine. My home life then wasn't fine."

"You resent these interviews, don't you," the woman said.

"Yes," Nikita replied, "I do. If you want to know something - why don't you just ask?"

"Sometimes operatives are not honest," the man said, "And we learn things from how you say them, what you don't say."

"Maybe if you weren't always looking for ways to mess with our minds, we'd be a little more honest."

"Nikita, we're not looking for ways to mess with your mind, or anyone else's. Not today," the woman said, "Section One has always had the highest performance ratings - until the last 18 months. The numbers say there's been a 6 drop - and there's an indication that it could be random Intel problems, that it could be a problem with cooperation between agencies and there's been some indication that it's been from direct sabotage. If we ask directly - we get accusations. We're trying to salvage an organization, and the staff we've invested in."

"And my personal life affects this how?" Nikita asked.

"You're part of that staff. What's been done to you, and how it's affected you, is important."

"Let me tell you in plane English what's happening here in Section One. You can choose to believe me, or not. We get incomplete and erroneous Intel. The most recent disaster was the Chak-chow mission. We were able to confirm that someone from inside section changed it - and we think it was Madeline and Operations. They - Madeline and Operations - want to undermine and tear Michael down - because they perceive Michael as a threat. They are more concerned about their power base, than the greater good we're supposed to be fighting for. We're still an effective organization, but we spend too much time on political bullshit - and making alliances in appropriately. Look for something called the Gemstone file - and I'll get you the evidence on Chak-Chow. For gemstone - you'll need a damn good master hack. You look at those to files, and you'll find out what the problem is."

"What do you think the problem is?" The woman asked.

"Operations and Madeline are in a contest with George. Operations wants to move up, George wants to protect his position. Even if Operations gets George out of the way - Operations still doesn't have complete power because of people like Michael - because they still think we can do some good here - and they won't agree to the power base building mechanisms we've done in the past."

"How do you think operations would handle the operations of the other Sections?" The woman asked.

"If he was the head of oversight? You'll see their numbers fall - you'll see their emotional support systems start to disintegrate. You'll see the same thing happening there, that happens here. It's how they keep people under their thumbs. And it may work great for a while. But don't think the greater good will always be their end goal."

"So you don't think they should hold their current positions?" the man said.

"No," Nikita said, "And I don't know who should. It's a horrible job to have. That's your job - as the resident brain pickers, to find out who can handle that job."

************

"Darren, tell me how your mission at the genetic facility has affected you," The man said.

Darren shook his head, "It's been a nightmare. I have nightmares. It destroyed my relationship with Alex. It's hurt my relationship with my friends."

"Has it affected your sex life?" The man asked.

Darren laughed bitterly, "Yes, It has."

"How so?"

"I can't fuck a woman now, without worrying that I'm going to hurt her," Darren said bitterly, "And that's all it is now - a fuck."

"You also impregnated a girl on that mission," the woman said, "And the girl took her own life. There are notes in your file that you feel responsible."

"Well, if I hadn't fucked her, she wouldn't have been pregnant, and she wouldn't have been suicidal."

"But you were under orders," The man pointed out.

"I should have disobeyed the orders," Darren snapped, "They were wrong."

Alexandra was vastly uncomfortable. The chair was fine, it was being all wired up - and knowing everything was being picked apart.

"Have you ever wanted to kill anyone in Section?" the man asked.

"The thought crossed my mind," Alexandra replied, "But it was just one of those passing thoughts - stuff you think

"But you did follow through with it, with Juan Henry," The woman pointed out.

"That wasn't a passing thought. I blamed him, I planned it out, and I followed through. Totally different."

"Have you killed anyone since you've been in section - that wasn't in the mission parameters?" The man asked.

"No," Alexandra replied.

"Have you had any of these passing thoughts about Madeline, or Operations?"

"Yes," Alexandra replied.

"Tell us about it," the woman said.

"One time in particular. It was when Operations reassigned Nikita and Darren to Section three, and we all thought they were dead. I was sure Operations and Madeline killed them - just to show us who were really boss around here. I was sitting in Madeline's office one day - and I thought about wrapping my hands around her throat, and strangling her to death. I wondered if Operations would mourn her death as much as I mourned Darren's and Nikita's."

"Do you think he would?" The woman asked.

Alexandra sighed, "He'd miss her - but not like he'd miss the loss of someone he loved. He'd get over it fast. I don't think he allows himself to love."

"What makes you say that?" the woman asked.

"It's the way he does things. I think he has the capacity to hate, resent and be cruel much more than the capacity to Love. I've heard about his time as a POW, I know he's survived some bad stuff, so I can make some guesses - like he won't allow himself, won't risk it - but I don't really know for sure, and in all honestly, I really don't care. It's a gut feeling. Everything is all power with him - but I know a good part of that is the position he holds."

"Why didn't you kill Madeline?" the man asked.

Alexandra smiled a little, "A passing thought - not something I seriously entertained doing. Besides - in the end, she suffers for the unnecessary stuff she does to people."

"Unnecessary?" The man asked.

"I can see where she has to know what makes up tick. But it's like if we get too good at something, she's got to find a way to knock us down. If we find a way to enjoy part of our lives outside of Section - she finds a way to ruin it. I just don't see where that's necessary. But every now and then it's like she's looking for ways to shore us up, but that hasn't happened in a long long time."

"You don't think she's a team player then," the woman asked her.

"No," Alexandra said, "And I don't even care if she sees the video of this. If I could get her into a conversation, I'd tell this her to her face even. But she doesn't have time for chats with the underlings - because there are political coups' to plan, relationships to destroy, and minds to play with. She's good at picking apart a person's mind and using it against them - but I think she uses it poorly more often than not, and all the time lately. It's like she's snapping."

"Would you like us to tell her that?" the man asked her.

"I don't care either way," Alexandra replied, "I don't chose to spend so much emotional energy on her. I have a team to keep track of, a dog I adore, and friends who make life in this hell we call section one livable. I don't want to spend the energy on something so fruitless."

"Your dog - if Madeline is so awful - why would she let you have the dog?" The woman asked.

"Because he has tactical advantages. Pepe goes on undercover missions. He can have a tracker and listening device placed in him - and his initial presence here was an experiment. Now even she likes him," Alexandra replied, "Besides - if you met him, you'd like him. Hardened psychopaths melt for this dog."

************

Stephen wanted to rip ever last sensor off of himself, and strangle his evaluators with them.

"The physical similarities between Kristie and your sister are extraordinary. Do you always seek out woman to replace the sister you lost?" The woman asked.

"I'm not replacing my sister," Stephen snapped, "If you'd done the dirt digging correctly, you'd find that Kristie is the first blonde I've dated in 10 years - and not a damn thing like my sister."

"How as your physical relationship with your sister?" The man asked.

Stephen grimaced, "There wasn't one."

"Do you feel like your relationship with Kristie replaces that?" the man asked.

"That's pretty fucking sick. I'm in this place because I took out the guy who raped and murdered my sister. The only physical thing with my sister was hug on her birthday or if we passed each other in the hall at our mother's place - like any normal healthy sibling relationship. You can't even compare my relationship with Kristie, to the one I had with my sister."

"So you feel your relationship with Kristie isn't healthy?"

"No," Stephan snapped, "The relationship itself is fine. What causes tension is that if we seem to be doing well, Madeline and Operations seem to look for a way to mess things up. It's like they're the two most miserable human beings who just ended up being on the good guys side, but really don't want to be - and since they're so miserable, everyone else has to be. If Operations gives a woman a passing glance - like that analyst from oversight that was here for one of the missions - Madeline goes a little insane. If Madeline pays a little too much attention to a male operative - Operations becomes super asshole - and if anyone has a romantic relationship - they both take cheap shots at it. If there were no romantic relationships in section - they'd either start working on the platonic ones, or just go even more insane."

"So you don't think they're good leaders," The woman said.

Stephan laughed, "I think they suck as leaders. I think they're motivated by power - and not the greater good. They might have been good at one point, but they're not good at it now."

"You're a level 5, do you think you could do better?" The man asked.

"Me? No," Stephan said, "I'm a good tactician - I'm good middle management - but I don't have the charisma and people skills to lead large masses."

"Who would you recommend?" the man asked.

"Michael," Stephan replied, "Or someone similar to him. He's not power hungry - but he's good at watching the political wheels turn. And he keeps his eye on the greater good, without unnecessary loss."

"Who else besides Michael?" The woman asked.

Stephan sighed, "Nikita could do the job, but she'd hate it - and she'd need Michael - or close friends to lean on when the day was done. But then, so does Michael."

"You think she's more compassionate," the woman commented.

"I think she weighs her compassion a little heavier than Michael - and she shows it more than he does. But they're both qualified, and they'd both do a better job than the existing people, and I don't think either one of them would pull underhanded crap to get there," Stephen said.

"What do you mean by underhanded?" the man asked.

"There's a mission that just went bad. We lost three operatives, wounded two to others. Two of the operatives happened to be friends, and the team leader who was hurt, is a buddy of mine. They were given bad Intel on purpose. Your audit staff will find out - if they're any good that is - that the Intel DRV found was not the Intel that the team was given. It was changed - and the end result was that Darren and Michael looked like incompetent fools if you don't look beyond the results at the poor Intel. Everyone around them knows they had bad Intel, and that there was nothing they could do. But someone looking at just stats will just see three dead, two out of commission for a month, and tactical support that couldn't help. I think it was all some big scheme to nock Darren and Michael down a peg, cause it's no big secret here that Michael is our best level 5, and we all think he'll eventually run Section when Paul's time is up."

"What makes you so sure?" The woman asked.

Stephen groaned, "I'm a cold op - level 5. I'm trained to see things, watch things, and make contacts. I hear things. I've got contacts in other sections, the agency. Any of us that have half a brain cultivate them. You two probably have contacts to get information between the sections and the agency. If you don't - you should."

************

Nikita was in her office. She was waiting for Michael, and taking a few minutes to collect herself after her psych analysis. Darren was lying on his back, on her sofa, with Pepe sitting on his stomach. Neither one of them had found their evaluations pleasant, but neither one of them felt damned to the abeyance pool either.

"I feel like every nuance of my physical, emotional and sexual identity has been laid bare, examined, played with and then closed up like an old book," Darren sighed.

"Gee, I thought you were doing that already," Nikita commented, her tone light, but resigned, "An amazing insight."

"I'm either more fucked up that even I know - or I'm gonna survive and do well in this hell hole," Darren sighed, "They really worked over my relationship with Alex - and the genetics mission, and my father a little - they did that last time too - and Kim and Tony."

"Three big components of your life," Nikita commented.

"What about you," Darren asked her, "How did yours go?"

"It was a lot like being coerced into sex - like mental rape," Nikita told him, "My relationship with Michael was picked apart. My relationship with my friends - they asked me if I was sleeping with you or ever thought of it - they asked if I had sexual feelings for my female friends - they really worked over the whole guilt thing with canceling recruits."

Darren turned his head, "They asked if you were sleeping with me? That's a new one. Usually I know about the rumors."

"I don't think anyone in section ever wonders about that - not seriously. But you're a close friends - we've worked together a lot - and it was mostly about that time when we were supposedly dead, but really weren't, and we were away at Section three," Nikita told him.

"We didn't have time," Darren replied, "Besides - it would just be weird. I can acknowledge that you look good - but no lust, you know?"

"Disconnected," Nikita sighed, "See what I mean? It's like mental rape."

"Yeah," Darren said, sighing, "Alex is in right now. I want to be there for her after - but I'm afraid to. We're so fucked up."

"You," Nikita told him, "Are both stubborn, emotional creatures. You jut gotta find that balance."

Darren smiled, and stroked his fingers down Peep's back, "And I really can't imagine being with anyone else. You know they asked about that prostitute. Even they thought I fucked her."

Nikita looked over at him, "I thought you fucked her."

Darren shook his head, "I made it look like I did. I wanted to piss Alex off so bad, that she'd get away and stay away - and think about just taking care of herself. I'm so fucked up. After today - I doubt I'll even make level 5."

Nikita laughed, "Sure you will. You're still thinking you are your father. What you don't see are the differences that make you a good operative, and overall a good person - and stubborn as a mule."

"Hey," Kristie said as Stephen walked up to her. They were at Giovanni's. Michael, Nikita, Darren, Walter and Brianna were there. Alex was on the way.

"How'd it go?" Kristie asked him, "Nikita and I equated it to mental rape."

"Good analogy," Stephan commented, pouring himself a glass of wine, "I thought Madeline could play head games. These people are sick."

"It's a deep probe," Kristie told him, "They pushed us to see our reactions - but you know how that works."

"Yeah, I do," Stephen sighed, "But there are some things you just don't even suggest . . . hey, where's Alex?"

"I saw her talking to one of her team members, she looked like she was doing fine," Darren commented, "They asked a lot about the 'management'. I hope this isn't just a witch-hunt to politically assassinate them. I'm no fan, but I hate to think we were all just mentally tortured so they can have a letter in their personnel files."

Alexandra announced coming into the room from the back door, "I just lost one of my team members."

Everyone turned and looked at her. No one moved.

"There not supposed to cancel anyone without -"

"Melissa went home, and put a gun in her mouth," Alexandra said, her voice quieter, almost resigned, "She said she couldn't handle the constant strain anymore. She sent the email to me, and carbon copied Michael, Madeline and Operations. As soon as she sent it, she went into the bathroom, got in the tub, and pulled the trigger. By the time I got to a phone, it was apparently too late."

"Damn," Kristie sighed, reaching out to her friend. She slid her fingers into Alex's.

Pepe whimpered from his place in Alexandra's shoulder bag. Alexandra reached for him, pulling him out, and set him down on the floor. Giovanni had set up bowel for him in the corner.

Nikita leaned over into Michael's side. Michael tightened his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Too many people have died," Nikita announced softly, "Something has to change. We can't go on like this - and it's not just us that are getting . . . abused."

Darren reached for one of the bottles of wine, and turned it to look at the label. It was one of Tony's favorites. Tony and Michael had often had lengthy discussions on wine.

"This," Darren started, "Was one of Tony's favorite. If he was here, he'd pour a glass, raise it up - and offer up some bullshit toast that he just made up, and he'd get us talking about happier times. So Tony - here's to the good times - like that pub in Belfast."

Stephen raised his glass, "That club in New York."

Walter chuckled, "Those dinners when the girls go out shopping."

Michael smiled, "The bachelor party."

Nikita laughed, "That toast at the wedding reception."

"Cairo," Alexandra added.

"He was always a good friend - even when he thought you were dead wrong," Kristie said, "And Kim . . . One of the best shoppers I know."

"A great hack," Darren announced.

"Those girls nights out," Alexandra said, shaking her head, "She could really live for each moment."

"She had one of the strongest hearts I know," Nikita offered.

"A forgiving heart," Michael added.

"And a good friend," Stephen said.

They were all silent for a moment.

"May we never forget that they made a difference, in and out of the job," Nikita finished.

The door to the private dining room opened. Giovanni stopped, seeing all the glasses in the air.

"I'll come back later," He started.

"No, please," Kristie said, "Come in. We're here to celebrate their lives - not dwell on their passing."

Giovanni nodded, and stepped in, and held the door back while three waiters brought in several platters of food. He waited until it had been laid out, and the waiters were gone, and then he started to refill wine glasses.

"I don't really know what he did, or what you all do, and I don't need to know . . . but they were together, yes?" Giovanni asked.

"Yeah," Darren said, "They were."

"They were good people," Giovanni said, "You get whoever did it?"

"Getting," Kristie said, "And we'll get them good Giovanni, don't worry."

"Good, Good, you need any help, anything done discreetly, I know people," He offered, "If you need it."

The last drop of wine drained out of the bottle, filling a last glass that he picked up.

"To good people," Giovanni offered.

They all drank, and Giovanni excused himself. As soon as the door was closed, Alexandra turned her gaze on the rest of the table, "This is rich, a mafia connection man offering to help out Section One cold ops."

"Hey," Kristie said, "They way things are going lately, I can't see my way clear of writing anything off."

************

She walked into the room that was ghosted white by some sort of fog; the sheer material of the white gown she wore billowed out behind her as if blown by an unseen wind. Darren pushed himself up from his reclined position to sit on the edge of the bed and watch her come to him. Long blond tresses coasted over her shoulders, one now exposed showing milky white skin where the fabric had fell to the side. The gown pressed against her skin in a way that made him jealous of it, hugging her every curve and flat plain of her body. She was only a few feet from him now and she stopped, her small feet together, arms dropping to her sides. Darren smiled at her, wanting to show his approval and appreciation…she did not return his smile with one of her own. Her eyes lifted to meet his and he watched one of her small hands lift from her side. The gleaming blade of the steak knife seemed to catch unseen rays of light and refract it into his eyes. Her other hand rose and he saw her turn palm and wrist up, the soft skin of her wrist now exposed. Darren started to push himself from the bed thinking only of grabbing her and throwing the knife as far away from her as possible. He only made it two inches off of the bed, his wrists constricted by something which held him tight. He looked down to them quickly and saw a cascade of red hair sliding away from his arm and the heavy leather shackle that was fastened to it. Turning his head as far to the right as he could, he saw Alexis coming toward him…ball-gag in hand. Darren started to shake his head from side to side, seeing the gag drop in front of his mouth. He heard a laugh beside his ear and stopped moving for a split second, long enough for the gag to be yanked backward toward his face…the ball splitting one lip as it forced its way into his mouth. It seemed to fasten on its own, no amount of struggling could stop it from tightening down. The bitter copper-penny taste of his own blood flooded across his tongue making him grimace. He felt the bed sag slightly on his right and glanced over to see Alexis settling in beside him. When she spoke, Darren watched a forked tongue slip from between her teeth and suddenly she was no longer Alexis…she was Madeline.

"Now that you're comfortable Darren, shall we sit back and watch the show?"

Darren felt his head turn on its own accord and saw that the knife and her wrist had met. She stilled the blade, holding it only slightly against the thin skin and finally spoke to him. The words were clear and echoed back punctuating her question.

"Why did you do this to me Darren?"

He felt the sting of tears as they brimmed in his eyes, turning the room into a watery Monet before they spilled and his vision cleared once again. The knife pressed then slid, serrated blade ripping the skin open in an uneven jagged tear. Darren waited for the blood to spill but didn't see any at all. Instead, a red bloom of color appeared and began to spread across the lower front of her gown. Her virgin blood spilled again, staining the white gown to a scarlet mess as Madeline laughed beside him. Darren could not tear his eyes from the scene before him, could not scream for the gag in his mouth even though he begged God in his mind to let him do both…to let him do both right now.

She switched the blade to her other hand now, the skin from her open wrist dangling in horrible strips. Her still uninjured wrist was turned up and laid open in the same slow grotesque manner…and now the blood did come. It came like a torrent, spilling from both wrists and coasting across the white floor toward the bed and his feet. The Madeline thing beside him laughed again and dropped her own feet to the floor, waiting for the blood to reach them. What little color there was in the girl's skin drained like water from a cracked vase, her hair lost its luster and her blue eyes faded to a dull gray. Darren tried to lift his feet from the floor, noticing at last the matching shackles encircling his ankles. The blood was coming faster now, a red tide rushing forward, swallowing the expanse of white in front of it. The wave hit his feet, the sudden impact sending droplets high into the air to settle on his pants, his arms, chest and face. The Madeline thing cackled and swung her feet back in forth mimicking a child playing in a wading pool, kicking the blood high into the air and back in the direction of the girl. Darren watched the blood splatter what was left of the white gown and streak the now lank strands of hair that hung limp over her shoulders. The girl started to waver on her feet, swaying side to side. She closed her eyes against the blood flying at her and lost what balance she had left. She fell forward to her knees, opened her eyes for a moment and found Darren's gaze on her. He saw one single tear, as bright as sun on an icicle, track a path through the blood that now covered her face leaving that small area clean. Darren felt one of his own tears mimic the same path on his face just as he watched her fall face down into her life's blood with a hard thump that woke him from his worst nightmare.

Sweat streaked his skin, tears flooded down his cheeks and his heartbeat a hard rhythm against his ribcage. He shook his head to clear it of the images but they felt branded to his mind's eye…perhaps forever.

Madeline watched his fitful sleep, how he thrashed against the covers seeming to fight against someone or something. His head rolled from side to side on the pillow, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Surely, it was about the girl…Donika. She watched him jump in his sleep, waking with a start that nearly sent him sprawling onto the floor. He sat up, flipped the covers up and off of his naked form and shook his head from side to side quickly. She saw the imprint left on the sheets, his body's shape left in sweat on the cotton. He looked down at his feet for a moment, seeming to almost examine them and walked unsteadily to the bathroom. Madeline flipped off the feed as he disappeared from camera view, she had seen all she needed to see.

Darren walked into Section thirty minutes later, sweats and sneakers donned moments after the frigid shower water had been dried from his skin. His hair hung around his shoulders still dripping slightly at the ends. Madeline watched him cross the main floor, knowing that he would be taking his second shower of the day after he beat the hell out of the bag in the training area for a while. She gave him a good two minute head start before walking to the large viewing window to observe him. She could have accomplished the same thing from her office but wanted to be there instead near him, in case he should want to talk. He was already hard into the bag, never giving its momentum time to swing back at him. He pummeled the hard canvas with hands left bare, something he rarely ever did in case a Valentine mission came up. Cut knuckles were sometimes hard to explain to a beautiful woman. Of course, it was the image of a beautiful woman that had him in here this morning…and cut knuckles were part of his medicine. The bright flash of pain that came to his brain through his hands reminded him that he was indeed awake. The demons and the bloody angels were at bay, at least for a few hours.

Madeline watched the surface of the bag turning red with his blood, the skin being shredded on his fists. She knew she should stop this, at least before he did any real damage to himself…but she knew this was a catharsis of sorts. Some ghosts were harder to rid yourself of, especially when your bore the blame for the person becoming a ghost in the first place. She decided to just let him go at it awhile longer.

Walter noticed the shadow in the hallway and approached the training area to see what was so interesting. Madeline glanced up at him as he got closer and nodded greeting at him. Walter looked into the room and saw Darren beating the hell out of the large bag, then looked at Madeline again.

"What's wrong with the kid?"

"It's of no concern to you Walter…"

"Don't give me that shit. If you can't see that you're looking at an operative in self-destruct mode, then your next stop should be Dr. Marc's office for an eye exam," Walter fumed.

"I know perfectly well what I'm looking at and what he's dealing with. I also know that you are not privy to all information…therefore, back off Walter," Madeline leveled her gaze at him, took one last glance at Darren and left for her office. Walter watched Darren for two minutes longer, then left to seek out Michael or Nikita…whoever he saw first. Instead of finding them, he saw Kristie heading down the hall toward the workout room. She had finally started to put some of her weight back on and the tone was returning to her muscles he noticed admiringly. She lifted her gaze to his, catching him looking and grinned.

"What's up you sexy devil?" Kristie stopped in front of him, now seeing the concern and worry in his eyes. He tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt and fell well short of the normal infectious grin. He took Kristie's arm and she allowed herself to be pulled from the main hallway and into a small culvert.

"Are you on your way to work out with him?"

"Him who?"

"Darren! You haven't seen him this morning?!"

"No Walter, but you're freaking me out just the same…what's up?"

"Madeline…it must have something to do with that mission…he looks like he hasn't slept…" Walter rambled until Kristie put a finger to him lips to quiet him. He stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"Now, breathe deep, then pick a sentence and go with it. I feel like my head's on one of those Madeline style roller coasters. And, I heard you mention her name in that confusion, what's up with that?"

"She was watching him…Darren. He's in the workout room nearly killing himself punching that bag. He didn't even bother to wrap his hands, you know that's not like him at all. He's got bags under his eyes that rival Samsonite and she knows how bad he is but she's just letting him go at it harder and harder," Walter rubbed his forehead, pushing his bandanna down and back up again in a disconnected way.

"Where did she go when she left him?"

"How should I know? Probably to her lair to analyze what she saw so she can fuck with his head some more," Walter stepped partway into the hall looking from side to side then stepped back into the shadows.

"Cool. You go find Birkoff and tell him to run a backtrail for me. I want to know what files she accessed in the last twenty minutes. Tell him to use the encryption that we've been working on and load it onto a panel for me. Then, you go and get either Michael or Nikita and send them down here. Go to Birkoff first, that'll give me time to talk to him…if he'll listen. And thanks Walter, you take good care of us."

"Ah baby…who else would if I didn't?" He flashed her a more Walter-style smile and went to find Birkoff. Kristie turned in the opposite direction and headed to the gym. She saw Darren laying into the bag, streaking it with blood. The bag looked like some macabre object d'art. He was hitting flat-footed, the energy going out of his blows. The bag spun under a glancing hit and Darren felt himself turn, his ankles tangling one over the other and saw the floor rushing up. Kristie bolted from the doorway, let one knee bend as the other stayed straight feeling her hip and butt graze then slide across the slick floor. She executed this sliding-into-first-base maneuver just in time to allow Darren's head to fall into her lap. She turned him onto his side, pulling the wet strands of his hair off of his sweat slick face. She knew he had fainted, or passed out…or whatever guys called it when they did it…so she waited for him to come around. She felt him stir and spoke to him quietly.

"Darren, are you back with me or are those black roses still blooming for you?" The few times that she had gone into a faint, usually due to blood loss, she remembered and sometimes welcomed the black roses. They would start as small spots, then bloom fully covering the rest of her world until that was all that remained. Kristie supposed if you had to see something on the way to oblivion, black roses weren't necessarily the worst thing in the world to have to stare at.

Darren heard a voice that seemed to come from a million miles away and distantly felt a hand in his hair. He tried to open his eyes and found it was a hard thing but they finally fluttered open. A small white Reebok tennis shoe was in front of him and the room was on tilt. It took him a moment to figure out that it was he and not the room itself that was…misaligned to put it simply. He heard the voice again and this time was able to recognize it as Kristie's.

"Darren…wakey-wakey funny man, it's time to make the doughnuts," Kristie ran her hands through his drying hair trying to rouse him. She felt him stir a little and knew he was coming out of it.

"Damn mama, just five more minutes…I'm getting' up!" Darren rolled onto his elbows, lifting his head to see Kristie staring down at him and smiling. He looked at how she was still seated on the floor, one leg bent slightly under the other, "Did you walk in and find me face down in the floor? If you did, I'm glad it was you and not Operations."

"Nope. I was getting quite the eye-full of pent-up cold-op workout rage when I saw you going down for the count. You really missed the best part of the performance…I was safe at first to load the bases!"

"You slid under me…before I hit the floor."

"Well, I could only keep the important part from hitting the floor. I didn't want your pretty face to match your hamburger hands. I think we need to talk…correction, you need to talk. Grab a towel, we're outta here."

"Kris, I can't just…"

"Madeline caught the first part of your act but didn't stick around for the grand finale. Like I said, we're outta here…NOW."

She stood, grabbing a spare towel from the rack and tossed it at him. He caught it deftly with one bloody hand and stood to follow her out the door and out of Section. They exited into the bowels of the parking garage, Darren not even thinking to ask Kristie where she was going. He saw one of the large black Suburbans backed into one corner and assumed they were taking it. Kristie walked to the driver's side and Darren stepped to the passenger's side waiting for the electronic click to sound the unlocking of the door. What he heard instead was Kristie asking him what he was doing.

"I'm waiting on you," Darren answered.

"Well damn, didn't know you needed curbside service," came her curt reply. Darren was about to question her, but shut his mouth when he was temporarily silenced by the roar of a loud motor starting up. Kristie emerged from the far side of the Suburban on a black and chrome Harley Davidson, holding the rider's helmet out to Darren. Darren couldn't help but smile. She was so petite but handled the bike like it was no larger that a bicycle. As he mounted, he saw her pull a PDA from her pocket and key something in quickly before hitting send and storing it inside her jacket once again. Darren pulled the strap of the helmet tight and put his hands on Kristie's waist. He saw her shake her head and pull his arm around the front of her waist as she gunned the bike and pressed his arm tighter around her. He got the point…she was going to fly and he better hang on. Without time to ask where they were headed, she kicked it into gear and they were on the street and away.

************

Michael and Nikita felt their pagers go off simultaneously. Walter nodded when they reached for them and smiled.

"That'll be Wild Thing with your evening meeting address no doubt."

Nikita nodded first, then looked puzzled at Michael and Walter.

"Jester's? What's Jester's?"

Walter peeled laughter, thumping Michael on the back with one hand.

"It's a biker bar way out Route 9. It's so damn loud, rowdy and crowded, she had to know there would be nothing that Section could do about eavesdropping in there! You guys definitely need to change clothes," Walter laughed again and walked away. His work was done…for now.

************

Michael steered the bike into the space beside Kristie's and Nikita got off stretching her back and rubbing her butt. Michael stowed the helmets in the saddle bags and they headed for the bar. The festive purple and white three-pointed jester's hat on the neon sign was tempered quite effectively by the skull with blazing eyes upon whose head it sat. The jaw was rigged to open and close in an eternal grin. Nikita looked uncertainly at Michael who laced his fingers into hers and went first through the door.

************

The place was small, loud and crowded. A house band was cranking out a not too shabby version of Hotel California by the Eagles and the crowd seemed at least a little appreciative of their talents. In a place like this, that meant that no one was tossing their bottles at the stage which was a good thing. The bouncer to the right of the door nodded at Michael as they entered, Nikita noted the size of the man's forearm was nearly that of her thigh. She heard a familiar voice beside her and turned to see Walter talking to the bartender. He nodded his greeting at them, then motioned to a small back room off of the main bar.

************

They threaded their way through the crowd, both of them garnering admiring looks from many of the other patrons. Michael saw the lust in the women's eyes, most who would look away quickly to avoid the flack from their boyfriends and Nikita saw the long gazes and heard the comments from the men. She marveled at how, in a life long ago she had hid her beauty under dreadlocks, unwashed skin and baggy clothes to fend off just that type of attention. Now years later, she had claimed the full power of what her beauty could do for her and following hand in hand with her husband she walked proud. She felt pride in herself for surviving all these years, first on the street then under the scrutiny of Section One, pride of gaining the heart of a man she had wanted for years, first through friendship, then with love. Michael glanced back at her once and seeing her smiling felt his own heart swell with pride.

************

The bar had a short hallway at the far side and they entered the darkened space then took a turn to the left to enter a small private room in the back. They found Kristie and Darren sitting at a round poker table, both with cold beers in their hands and neither talking. Kristie smiled as they entered but they both noticed the red eyes, the resigned look that accompanied it. Michael pulled a chair out for Nikita then took the other for himself.

"Okay…" Kristie started, "thanks for coming. I know this place is a little out of the way but I thought…"

"It was a good choice," Michael quelled her fears about any tactical bad decisions, "it's loud and crowded. Nikita and I both swept the place when we came in and picked up nothing. Walter is still at post in the front right by the door and I'm sure he'll let us know if anything comes up."

"I told Kris that there was no need to call you guys, I can only see one way out of all this shit," Darren stared at the label on his beer, thumbing one wet corner back.

"And you don't need any help taking yourself out, is that what you're trying to say?" Nikita still held hands with Michael, under the table now and he could feel her grip tighten as she asked the question.

"That's right," Darren felt a sudden blast of anger heat his gut, "or do you think I'm capable of fucking that up too?" He felt a hand fall hard onto his wrist and grip.

"Hey! Ice your nuts Junior, I think you forgot who you're talking to! I told you that I wanted Michael and Nikita here to give us some extra insight on how we can help you get through this. Look at all the shit that they've gone through separately and together in Section," Kristie slackened her grip just slightly and watched the anger slip from his eyes.

"Darren, we came because we're worried about you…isn't that enough?" Nikita watched as his gaze first met hers then drop to the table.

"I told you, I don't know if there's any fixing this Kita. I've lost so much. I can't believe what I did to those girls. I've lost Alex and damned if I don't think I've lost most of my mind," Darren let his head fall into his hands, rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

"What happened on that mission was not your fault, your mind can heal and most of all, you have not lost…" Michael started.

"Me," Alexandra voice reached his ears and his head flew up to look at her. She stood in the doorway, casually leaning on the frame with her hands in her pockets of her jacket. Alex saw the relief in his eyes, saw the beginnings of a smile…right before he pushed it all away.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Darren looked around the table at each of them.

"You know, the bad boy image you project for the job is fine, but you can't bullshit other professional bullshitters. Get over yourself and admit that you want her back you damn fool," Kristie slapped him on the arm lightly.

"She's right, you damn fool," Michael cocked his eyebrow at Darren and waited for his reaction.

"And this time…I think you should be the one to go to her. She's earned it," Nikita winked at Darren, whose stone face was quickly slipping away. Alexandra still held her place at the door, waiting for his decision.

Finally, the sound of his chair scraping backward on the wooden floor signaled his first step back from dark depths. He stood and took the three strides that it took to reach her without lifting his eyes from the floor. Stopping in front of her, waiting for some cue for his next move, some sign from above on how to begin to fix this…Darren merely stood. His mind warred with his heart. The voices chambered within his ears echoed insane thoughts and grandiose ideas back and forth. …you'll hurt her…this is what love is, forgiveness…you have a rage within…touch her…yes, touch her…' His right hand, till now hanging limp by his side started to lift palm up but his eyes did not track its path. Halfway to its destination it was captured by one of Alexandra's hands then enveloped with the other. She pulled it to her lips and brushed one delicate kiss across the healing skin of his knuckles. His eyes flew to meet hers, flitting between them and her lips…that mouth that he had so missed kissing and hearing endearments fall from.

She tangled one hand into the mass of hair hanging free down his back and pulled his head down to meet hers. Their lips met with no reserve on either party's part. All the pent up anger, hurt and neglect of the past few weeks seemed to be crushed with that one kiss.

Breaking the kiss when he felt a quick whiff of breeze on the nape of his neck, Darren turned to the table to thank his friends. The fire exit door to the right of the room swung shut slowly, the breeze being all that was left in the room save for a small scrap of paper under his beer bottle. He crossed to the table, Alex in tow behind him and read Kristie's familiar script…There is much work ahead of us and none of it pretty. Get your mind ready for this and don't take your time about it…K

************

The Harley drummed along underneath her, the chill from the wind had a slight bite to it. Kristie turned off onto the side road that she had found months ago, the smooth blacktop of the highway changing abruptly to old hard-top under the bike's wheels. She eased it into the first curve and watched as she came out of it into the long straight stretch. Almost five miles, straight as a stick and deserted as she always found it on this rare occasions. Her mind raced with thoughts as she jammed into a higher gear and felt the bike lurch forward under her with a life of its own. It wanted to go fast and she needed to. Kim and Tony's deaths were so unnecessary, the conflict between Darren and Alex was so unnecessary, posted speed limits on this road were so unnecessary. At the half mile mark, she glanced down at the speedometer hovering around ninety and gunned it upward past one hundred. She lay forward on the bike cutting the wind resistance even more as she flew down the road. Michael and Nikita were facing some of the most difficult times of their lives in the next few months, as they all were, but she knew that everyone's welfare would rest on their shoulders and hearts. Over the last month, with all of the missions gone wrong, losing Tony and Kim, that horrible mission that Darren had to be on with the girls…Kristie knew that they were building up to something big. The planets were aligning and all hell was getting ready to break loose inside of Section One.

The road started to narrow and Kristie slowed the bike to fifty to ready for the curve she knew was coming up. As she rounded the bend, she saw another rider on a familiar bike pulled off on the shoulder of the road. She nodded as she went by, briefly hearing the rev of the other bike and seeing it catching her fast in her mirror. They rode along, the drone of the engines soothing her thoughts away till she saw the marker that she was looking for. The old oak had one branch that grown out to shadow the road below it and they slowed their Harley's as they approached that shadow. The path beside it was covered with the vines and sparse leaves of honeysuckle, just beginning to yellow with the first cool evening temperatures. The bikes crept over the uneven pavement and gravel that soon gave way to an almost sandy surface path. They rode on slowly, dodging washed out areas where puddles lingered till they came to a small clearing and a dilapidated barn. Kristie pulled her bike to the side of the barn, then waited as he did the same. She unbuckled her helmet, removed it and stored it on the seat behind her, running a hand through her hair as she did so. Stepping off the bike, she glanced back once to see him just standing up to follow her. The old door creaked open, sunlight filtering in to cast golden rods onto the old hay that covered the ground. The ladder to the loft had a couple of missing rungs, but nothing that really hindered reaching the upper level. The few times that they had come here, first hesitant in their explorations then more bold in now familiar surroundings, the loft floor had been examined and found sturdy. The barn itself still smelled faintly of horses and sweet-feed even though the years had worked on the outside quite a bit. The rafters were starting the show the first signs of true disrepair, large cracks forming from time spent under heavy snows and thunderous downpours.

She climbed the ladder, he following behind still with no words passing between them. The loft was warm, a large square of sunlight formed on the soft pallet they had formed and added to with each visit. Always stowing an old blanket in the saddlebags, a discarded pillow here and there and candles for the couple of nights they were able to get away. She turned to look at him, both understanding the silence between them. Too much talking could ruin anything, any talk at all could waste the time they had and no words were needed on any account. Her jacket dropped to the floor as she scuffed her boots off and pushed them to the side. She watched him do the same, then stepped forward into his embrace. The air was still cool enough that a slight stir of breath could be seen between them as she tilted her head for the kiss. His lips met hers and any thought of cold on either of their minds was banished. Clothing was discarded in a slow and languid way, he tracing the skin being exposed as he pulled her tee-shirt up and off. His jeans unbuttoned, the rasp of the zipper loud in the serenity. She dropped to one knee in front of him, pushing the jeans over his hips and down across the large muscles of his thighs. He stepped out of them, watching her as she watched him and she eased them out of the way. His boxer-briefs hugged him, outlining his erection against the fabric. She traced along his shaft with one fingernail, feeling him shiver under her attentions. Pulling the fabric out and down, she placed a light kiss to the head of his cock before pushing the briefs down to his ankles so he could step out of them as well. He tugged his tee-shirt off and threw it to the floor, bringing his hands back to rest on her shoulders. Her tongue snaked out, tracing a path along the large vein that ran the length of him. Its path carried her up and onto his hip where she nipped at his skin lightly. Her hands encircled his ankles, then slowly she began dragging her nails up the back of his legs before gripping his buttocks firmly in each hand, holding him stock-still. She wet her lips, letting them graze the head of his cock before she took it inside her hot mouth. He groaned, the first real sound to come from either of them and she froze for a moment. Holding him in her mouth, she circled him with her tongue, tracing patterns back and forth as he swayed slightly on his feet. She felt his heartbeat increasing, the size of him growing even more and pulled away. He groaned again, this time not in pleasure, but in frustration. He stepped away from her, knowing she was right, they didn't want to rush this, didn't want to end before they had even began.

He watched her stand, bare-breasted, her jeans unbuttoned but still on. She walked toward the pallet, the spot in the sunlight and he watched the rays light her hair and form a halo around her body. She unzipped and pushed the jeans ever-so-slowly over her hips, dragging her panties with them as they went and stepped out of both. She stood in front of him, strong and sure of herself just as he was and offered him to lie with her. He went to her willingly, urgently and wanting to be engulfed by her. He drew her into his arms, lifting her and feeling her body mold itself to his, their heat blending as their flesh met. He lay her down gently onto her back, stroking her shoulder and collarbone with his tongue. She didn't try to stop him as she did when the need was so strong, this time she let him have his way. She closed her eyes, taking in the feeling of the warmth of his mouth, the warmth of the sun and the coldness in the pit of her stomach. This may be their last visit to this place, could very well be their last day alive…so this would be her last memory if the fates willed it to happen that way.

His mouth worked its way down her body, delaying his decent at each breast, working her nipple with his teeth and soothing it with his lips. He followed the hollow trail in the middle of her stomach ending at her navel. He toyed with the small barbell she had placed there. The jewels on the ends of it sparkled in the light as he flicked it back and forth. He pushed one of her legs up and over his shoulder, resting it across his back before starting with his tongue. He teased her, nipping and licking slowly then speeding up again. The teasing continued as he brought one of his hands up to close over her breast, toying with her nipple coaxing it to arousal under his fingers. She moaned and rocked her cleft against his mouth relishing in the ministrations of his tongue and lips. He lapped her fully, grasping the small bud between his teeth and pulling gently and tapping with the tip of his devilish tongue once again. Kristie could feel the heat building inside of her, the hard thud of her heartbeat against her chest as the orgasm started to build. He brought her to the edge, letting her skate on the precipice of ecstasy before slowing again and pulling her back again and again. Feeling her nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him up, sliding that one leg down from its resting place on his shoulder to urge him forward by wrapping her foot behind him. He fought for a moment, but only for a moment since the passion had been building in him as well. From the second he heard her bike coming toward him, or maybe before just at the anticipation of their elicit meeting it had started to build, making him force it down under a shred of control. Now with her hot limbs wrapped around him, here in their special place with the taste of her still on his tongue he let his will slip, the control sliding away as he slid forward into her heat.

Their flesh met, separated and slammed together again and again, rocking in abandon. She slowed him, rolling to her side as he did the same till she came to rest seated on top of him. For a moment, she only sat still, their eyes locked on one another sharing a split second in time when no one else existed. No wars were being waged, no innocents suffered, no arm-chair generals were sentencing young men and women to their deaths from half a world away. For this now, this when, this where, they were all that mattered in the universe and it was enough. No words passed between them, no sound to spoil this perfect time came forth save for the soft coo of a dove in the rafters of the old barn. The sunlight shone on two lovers, one man, one woman together as they were meant to be from the beginning of time.

She moved slowly, just rocking a bit, watching the emotions wash across his face like clouds on the ocean surface. He lifted his hands to twine them in her hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers before letting them sift loose once again. Her heat gripped him, the muscles clenching and unclenching around him, her heartbeat drumming under his palms as he let them slide across her breasts. The ridges of her ribs rippled under the smooth flesh as she undulated her hips, rolling out a figure eight atop him. He gripped her hips, the fingers of both his hands clenching in the soft skin as he moved her now, forcing her away from him before pulling her forward again and grinding into her. She gave as much as he did, riding him roughly, sliding along his full length on each thrust till she felt him tensing up, his movements slowing gradually as his climax started. He forced her down again, urging her on, working her back and forth. She felt the friction building, the tightening beginning deep within her as she felt his cock expanding and lengthening even more. She closed her eyes tightly as it began and he slowed her at just the right moment, their peaks intermingling, their cries of passion rousing the sleepy dove from its perch with a flurry of wings.

She fell against his chest and he rolled them to one side, he still embedded deeply inside of her. Brushing soft kisses against her temple, he coaxed her back down, feeling their heartbeats slowing finally. She smiled as her eyelashes parted and she gazed up at him. She traced small patterns in the hair of his chest and listened to his breathing evening out.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," she answered.

The night stretched out before them, a candle was lit, a call was placed and the slow and languid lovemaking that followed sent them into a restful sleep in this old and private place. In the dark the small hurried steps of a field mouse went unheard by the lovers but not by the barn owl that made his home in the corner of an old stall. Soundless wings spread, talons outstretched and a very small life was taken to provide sustenance for another. As always, the world had moved on and the time for killing was once more at hand.

************

Mr. Jones was the last to walk in. They were all seated at a round table. No head - no foot - but everyone knew where the power was.

It had just walked through the door.

It was an unusual feeling for Madeline and Operations. They had to answer to oversight - but it was a very different situation than this. Audits had never been a problem. They'd always been prepared.

Mr. Jones pulled out his chair, and took a sip off of his glass of water. He wasn't gong to drink from the pitcher or the glass sitting on the table - directly in front of him. Just in case.

George was seated at the table, as where the two head psychological analysts.

"I've had a chance to read through the psych evaluations already," Mr. Jones said, "As they came in. I want to discuss some of them now. Your house is a mess."

Madeline new better than to argue. She saw Operations open his mouth out of the corner of her eye. She could stop him with a simple nudge from her foot. But she wasn't going to. It was time to think about saving her own skin - not his as well.

"We do the impossible here!" Operations snapped, "Our operatives are stretched to the breaking point!"

"I know," Mr. Jones said, "Allow me to tell you about your operatives. You have a core group who could easily overthrow you - but they're not interested in taking over Section One. The best choice among them - and the one person most of the operatives would elect - if this were a democracy, which it is not - isn't interested in digging your graves and throwing you in it. But If I were to do just that - he'd have no problems assuming your position Paul. You have another level that never should have been brought here - yet that individual is excelling. There are three level fives that shouldn't be leading teams because they're about to crack up, and worse yet - they're not the most worked either. Among the rest of them - we found varying levels of paranoia. Four of them have potential to be alcoholics. Two others had street drugs in their systems. Then we move on to your level 4's. Half of them are struggling - which is the whole point of being a level 4 operative. Of that half - a third of them have potential to reach level 5. The other half that isn't struggling will be ready in the next two years to be promoted. Of the level 2 and 3 operatives, three will probably have committed suicide by tomorrow. One has already. You have 7 more drug users in this pool. For two of them it was traces of Marijuana. For the rest the drugs were meth, cocaine derivatives, and some acid. The good news is that your 2 of your suicides are in the drug pool. Before all of this started, we were aware that one of your level 4's had become an addict and managed to kick the habit on their own. Of course, you never knew about it, but you did send them out on missions that put that individual there."

"You keep using words to hide the sex and identity of these individuals," Madeline said slowly, "When I see the reports, I'll know who they are."

"You won't see the reports Madeline," Mr. Jones replied, "Nor will you Paul. Someone else is going to clean up your house for you. You will both be working on a special assignment in the field. I realize that neither one of you has had much field experience in the last 10 years, but I feel that it will be beneficial for you to have a little refresher. When you come back - assuming you survive the assignment - then perhaps you won't feel the need to set up missions to fail - like Chak- Chow."

Silence hung in the air.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about," Operations said slowly, "Chak- chow was not set up to fail."

Mr. Jones actually laughed.

"Oh it was Paul, and I know both you and Madeline were well aware of it. So are a group of operatives, and a few people in DRV. They had found all the evidence, but they hadn't used it against you. Perhaps they just hadn't used it against you yet. Which surprised me. One of them will one day make an leader for one of the sections," Mr. Jones said, "Very careful, very brilliant. Pity he isn't a little more power hungry. But it's that trait that makes him good at what he does."

"Who will be cleaning up our house," Madeline said, her tones even, calm, despite the panic she felt.

"Someone from the center will run Section One while you are away. Your assignment will last a few weeks. If and when you return, you'll find the remains of Section 5 have been absorbed by Section One. They failed their audit even worse than you did," Mr. Jones said, "Elaine and Robert will accompany you out of Section One, and brief you on your mission."

The two Psychological Analysts stood up. They obviously had been well aware about the results of the meeting. Madeline looked over at George. His expression - though reserved - indicated that he'd been surprised. He'd expected a different outcome. George looked over at Paul, and a flicker of animosity could be seen in George's eye. Madeline knew then that George had planned on their cancellations. Now, he didn't seem to think that might happen.

Of course, a lot could happen in the field. Madeline had made the arrangements more than once.