She woke slowly, eyes opening a fraction before closing hurriedly against the painful glare of intense light. With her eyes squeezed shut, she tried to get her sluggish mind to focus, lost in the twilight between dreaming and reality.

She tried again, eyelids moving protectively as though seeking to spare her any more pain. This time opening to darkness, a gloaming vagueness, soothing and peaceful.

She tested movement. A hand came easily off the surface where she lay, floating in the space in front of her. Slowly, vague shape become flesh, detail emerged as skin, nail, hair.

Her mind relaxed as control returned.

In the haze of her vision darkness mutated, shadows turning into a doorway, a cupboard, the glint of a mirror. The scene vaguely familiar, her mind strained to place it.

She sighed, satisfied. The bedroom of her apartment. She hadn't been here in a while. Preferring, instead, the convenience of her quarters in Section.

The thought had no sooner entered her head when she was again assailed with blinding light.

Eyes closed quickly, shutting out the pain. Her senses reeling, scene after scene flashing at a terrifying pace, faces, objects, buildings, rooms, corridors.

Panic, pure and simple, the sensation altogether alien.

No!

Search for comfort, familiarity.

Her mind slowed as she fought for control. The images slowed in response, coalescing into a whole that was intrinsically familiar, mind working to calibrate detail.

Restoring calm.

Back in control.

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

"Madeline?"

The achingly familiar voice brought her eyes instantly open.

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Operations gazed across at her, a look of concern etched stiffly on his face.

"Yes" she murmured uncertainly, then more forcefully "yes, I'm fine." She shook her head slowly, finger rubbing absently at her temple. She gazed around, the familiarity of her office bringing her back to the present with a dizzying alacrity. "I must have been daydreaming" she offered reluctantly.

"Daydreaming" Operations scoffed, "that's not like you. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes."

"You look tired" he disagreed.

She struggled with a thought, it exploded suddenly to the surface. "Dreams" she murmured.

"What?"

"I haven't been sleeping well ... vivid dreams" she said vaguely.

"Perhaps you need a few hours downtime. I can arrange for Peter to take you home."

"No, I'll be fine." She glanced at her screen, surprised at seeing nothing there. She processed this anomaly as a pounding began in her head. She turned to him expectantly, unclear of what they had been deliberating.

"We were discussing the Genefex mission" he stated impatiently, eyes watching her suspiciously.

"I thought ..."

She rubbed her temple again, her mind suddenly clouding as thoughts tried to reach the surface. She glanced around, the room seemed to shimmer and then start to dissolve.

"You thought what?" Operations voice prodded, reestablishing focus.

"It doesn't matter" she sighed.

"Madeline, what's going on. You're starting to worry me." He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over her hand, where it rested on the desk.

The touch seemed to anchor her, dispelling random thoughts and doubts, allowing her mind to converge on the present.

"Just a headache. Nothing to worry about" she smiled, resting her other hand on his. "Now where were we?"

"The profile" he stated brusquely, "you were telling me where we were up to with the Genefex profile."

She looked vague for a moment before flicking her eyes back to the empty screen. "Yes, of course" she replied, detail flowing in with reassuring familiarity. "Michael has completed the primary, he and Birkoff are following up on penetration of the security system. We should have something by this evening." She thought for a moment, then looked at him. "That's not really the information you wanted, is it?" she said, surprised by her need to ask.

"No" he smiled reassuringly. "You know me too well."

She looked at him curiously, momentarily puzzled by whether this was a question or statement of fact.

"Yes" she agreed in answer to both options, finally returning his smile.

"I'd like to see it, as soon as it's ready. Have you finished the trial?"

"Yes, the short term results are encouraging. I've done some projections, but the long term efficacy is still fluid."

"So you're not sure if it will hold?"

"No."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"I don't think so. Long term stability of the procedure is just one of the issues we need to consider. I need the added data on non-subject reaction, and I can't get that from the current environment in which we're running the tests. Nikita is the perfect subject for the next test. Michael's reaction should give me all the information I need to make the necessary adjustments to allow us to bring it into mainstream reconditioning."

"Are you still convinced the relationship is proceeding?"

"Yes, all my analyses suggest the level of intimacy has reached a level that seriously compromises our productivity."

"I've been over the tapes a dozen times. I still can't find anything."

"Michael knows the system as well as we do."

"No-one knows the system better than you" he scoffed.

She went to answer then stopped, suddenly, feeling a shift in equilibrium. She gazed at him, rubbing a hand over her forehead to appease the pounding in her head.

"I'd like to go over the specifications for the unit with you" he urged gently.

"Why?" she asked, a frown creasing her forehead.

"I'm curious, I still don't understand how it works."

"I'll send you the file."

"No, I'd prefer if you told me, in your own words."

She hesitated for a moment, incredulous, resisting the urge to ask why again.

"Now?" she finally inquired, "I'm busy."

"Yes ... now" he demanded. He leant down and pressed the intercom on the desk, "Birkoff?"

"Yes Sir" Birkoff's voice replied instantly.

"I'm in with Madeline, we're not to be disturbed for the next three hours."

"OK" Birkoff replied breezily. Operations switched off the intercom and leaned casually against her desk.

"I'm impressed with what you've done here Madeline. I don't want some cold technical report. I want to hear the detail from you."

He held her gaze for a moment, making it obvious that he was working hard to temper her suspicion.

"It's intriguing" he persisted, standing and moving his chair around to her side of the desk. He sat close, his leg rubbing against hers. "I don't take the time to go through the detail of the work you do." An elbow moved discretely to rest on the arm of her chair. "I'd like to get closer" he said softly.

"To my work?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes" he whispered, face softening under the guidance of an encouraging smile.

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled the plans of the Adjustment Module up on her screen. With a small frown she watched him, intensely, trying to gauge his intent. Seeing nothing but sincere interest in his eyes she relaxed a little.

"I'm glad" she said softly, "I've always thought that you took me and the work I do here for granted Paul."

He sighed and looked idly at the screen for a moment before turning back to face her. "I'm sorry if I've given you that impression." He took her hand and stroked his thumb across her palm, his face contrite. "Sometimes the machinations of our relationship have meant that I haven't always been willing to give you the kudos you deserve." He hung his head low then looked up, a small grin on his face. "My ego gets in the way of things sometimes" he said soberly.

"Sometimes" she ceded, smiling.

He reached up and ran a finger gently down the side of her face.

"Will you tell me about your latest creation, Madeline? I'm sure you don't even need to look at the screen, just tell me, I want to know" he whispered, bringing his face close to hers.

"With pleasure" she answered. Pressing a button under her desk, a panel on the wall behind silently withdrew, revealing the luxurious expanse of her quarters hidden behind. "Perhaps we'd be more comfortable on the lounge" she offered.

"Perhaps" he agreed.

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

She sat on the edge of the bed, dressing slowly, as Paul's hand meandered teasingly around her waist.

"Mmmm... Madeline. That was ... nice" he said drowsily, resting his head against her leg.

She looked down at him, studying his face for a long moment, "yes" she concurred, still somewhat astonished at what had just transpired.

"You sound surprised" he smiled, reaching a hand up to caress her cheek.

"Yes." Her finger traced the line of his shoulder, absently stroking the red marks that marred his skin, the imprint of her teeth and nails. "Pleasantly surprised."

Paul laughed and pulled her face towards him, lips brushing her jaw as they sought out her mouth. She returned his kiss, allowing him to smoothly pull her back down to the bed. The gentle caress of his tongue inside her mouth matched the delicate movement of his fingers as they played with the silky fabric of her bra.

Raising his head and resting on his elbow his eyes devoured her body. A finger traced a line down her forehead to her chin, then along each eyebrow. "You're beautiful" he murmured, blue eyes glassy with desire.

He leant down and placed a fervent kiss in her cleavage, his tongue drifting slowly in a zig zag across the exposed skin. She moaned, softly, as his hand reached down and stroked the inside of her thigh, pushing up the fabric of her skirt as it inched higher, teasing her skin with a whisper soft caress.

"It can't be what it was" he murmured, "but we can make it ... something."

She nodded her agreement, helping him remove her clothes, again. This time slowly, in contrast to the frenzied disrobing of an hour ago. With her skirt and panties removed he turned his attention to her bra, mouth hovering over the soft shape it enclosed, warm breath seeming to chill her hot skin. His fingers moved deftly, pushing the fabric down to expose her breast, mouth moving quickly to enclose it.

She felt her body writhe, the familiarity of his tender ministrations again bringing a welcoming calm to the mental turbulence she had been experiencing.

The touch of his lips on her neck left a throbbing path, continuing on to her ear. He pulled an earlobe into his mouth, hot moist breath against her skin causing a shudder of arousal.

"I want you" he whispered, mouth moving purposely towards hers. He looked up for a moment, hands moving to rest against each cheek, thumbs caressing soft skin. "I need you" he whispered urgently.

He pulled his body across hers, weight resting on his arms as he slowly lowered himself against her. She looked up at him, a hand reaching out to run gently through his hair and down his cheek.

"Yes" she agreed softly, unequivocally, prepared to lose herself again his embrace.

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

She stared at the blank screen in front of her, her image a featureless outline in the bright light of her office. Mind ticking over, input, analysis, output, action, the sequence almost as familiar as breathing. This time, however, she found herself fumbling, as though taking in a breath she was at a loss as to what she should do next, her body and mind feeling the pain of this indecisiveness.

She rarely trusted to instinct, preferring the more cognitive process of intuition. However, she was certain it was instinct, this time, causing the feeling of intermittent disquiet. That, coupled with the headaches and nausea she had been experiencing, had captured her in this pose for an indeterminate period of time.

With a sigh her fingers moved mechanically over the keypad of her intercom.

"Birkoff?" she inquired. Receiving no response she tried again, about to call his name as the door to her office opened and he entered.

"Birkoff!" she exclaimed.

He gave her a puzzled frown. "Yes" he responded to the obvious.

"I ... was just ..." she suddenly dismissed the need for an explanation. "I didn't call" she stated irritably. Yet, she thought to herself.

"No" he said, drawing the word out as though she was a bit a dense. "I came to give you an update of the Genefex profile and fill you in on some systems work I've initiated."

She nodded and sat back in her seat, crossing her legs delicately. "I see, proceed" she invited.

"The recon is in and Michael's finished the tactical. We've been able to download the schematics of the building, the material is being held in a laboratory on the second level. The security system is proving problematic, but we should have a solution in a couple of hours. Everything is on schedule" he provided eagerly.

"Good. I'll expect the completed profile by midnight. Get Michael to bring it by my office, I want to discuss the personnel assignments."

"Sure, I'll let him know, we should be about done by then. Now, about the systems ..."

"What about systems?" she interrupted impatiently. "Do you have an explanation as to why I can't access the network."

"Yeah" he replied, apparently impervious to her tone, "that's why I'm here. I'm running a back-up for the next few hours, the Category One classified stuff as well as yours and Operations. Access is limited while the programs running."

"But this has never happened before when we've done backup cycles. Why now?" She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, feeling a sharp pain behind her eyes that almost took her breath away.

"Are you OK, Madeline?"

"Just answer my question" she said wearily, heartily sick of hearing that question.

"I don't know what to tell you, seems your memory is a bit cloudy on this." He fidgeted uncomfortably. "You never have access when I run backup. Usually I try and do it when you and Operations don't need your systems, but I haven't had a window in the last two weeks and it needed to be done urgently. Operations gave me approval to go ahead."

"I see" she said calmly.

"Do you want me shut it down? Means I'll just have to start it up again later today or tomorrow though" he shrugged.

"No, that's fine. Find Nikita and send her to me."

"No problem" he replied and turned to leave.

"Birkoff" she called, suddenly remembering.

"Yeah" he replied, turning to face her.

"My intercom also seems to be faulty. Fix it."

"I'll get someone on it immediately" he assured.

"That's all, thank you."

He nodded and disappeared behind the quiet hiss of the doors.

Madeline watched him leave, the headache pounding against her eyes, causing her vision to flicker nauseatingly. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the desk for a moment, slowing her breathing as she tried to calm herself. After a few moments she felt the pain subside and raised her head slightly, pouring herself a glass of water from the jug by her phone. She focussed her attention on the delicate etching in the crystal glass, the water creating an appealing density of shape and form. Her eyes followed the pattern, finding a relaxing quiet in the detail.

With a deep breath she laid her head back on the desk. Opening the top drawer she fumbled around looking for the jar of aspirin she kept there. Feeling her hand come in contact with the smooth plastic cylinder, she flipped the top off and spilled a couple of small white tablets onto the desk in front of her, before replacing the lid and tossing the jar back in the drawer. She placed the tablets in her mouth, washing them down with some water.

She folded her arms and rested her head against them, waiting for the pain to subside. Hoping, but not hopeful, all she had was a simple headache.

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

"You wanted to see me" Nikita announced, sauntering through the doors to her office and slumping down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Without invitation, she observed coolly. A baggy pair of sweats hung off her frame, the folds of fabric hiding the contours of her body.

She watched her. A look of amusement at this grand entrance played rapidly across her face as she stared at the blank screen in front of her for a moment, feigning interest as she made Nikita wait the requisite amount of time.

"Yes, I did" she finally responded. Eyes reserved as she turned to face Nikita. "I'd like to discuss your relationship with Michael." She charged in without preamble, hoping to catch Nikita off guard.

Nikita sighed and rolled her eyes. "Big surprise" murmured as she crossed her legs then rapidly uncrossed them.

"It will continue to be a topic of discussion, Nikita, until you provide the asseveration that I require" she said tersely. "Let's start with why you haven't ended the intimate component of your relationship with Michael, as I directed."

Nikita glanced absently around the room, twirling a strand of hair between two fingers. She watched as Nikita's gaze came finally to rest on her, a feral grin erupting on the attractive face. Slumping further into the chair, Nikita splayed her legs further, hands dangled over the ends of the arm rests. She observed the posture, challenging and petulant. Interesting.

"Tell me why" she repeated, an edge of irritation in her voice.

Nikita seemed to consider her response, then with a challenging smile she stated glibly "the sex is great."

She worked hard to hide her amazement at this extraordinary statement, moulding her face into an impassive mask as she leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk in front of her. She had been trying for months to get Nikita to reveal the details of her clandestine relationship with Michael, and here it was being offered to her on a platter. She determined to proceed slowly, enjoying the distracting stimulation of playing with her food before eating.

"I think it's more than just sex, Nikita" she admonished, her tone carefully measured to impart just a hint of disapproval while maintaining the air of a confidante. "Do you love him?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

Nikita sighed. "Probably" she murmured, eyes wandering. "Despite everything that's happened, well ... it's hard not to."

"Yes." She surprised herself with this ready agreement to Nikita's comment.

She sat back, perplexed by what had prompted this sudden turnaround in disclosure, her watchfulness on full alert. She turned back to her computer to review Nikita's activity records for the last few days, instinctively keying in a sequence as she looked up at the screen. Blank, of course. Recognition of this rudimentary lapse made her head start to pound, again. She turned her attention back to Nikita, a sigh forming on her lips as she assessed her options.

"Why are you telling me this Nikita?" she finally asked.

Nikita hesitated for a moment then shrugged her shoulders, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I've asked many times before, but you have chosen to lie or engage in subterfuge to avoid answering my questions. Why the sudden change now?"

Nikita stood slowly, unfolding long limbs in a slow stretch. "You seem to want to know, so I'm telling you" said slowly, a puzzled frown attesting to her own amazement at the direction of the discussion. Nikita moved restlessly, wandering over to inspect the bonsai's against the far wall. Her back to Madeline

"Yes, I do want to know" she affirmed, watching Nikita's back as she opened the top drawer and removed two more asprin, the last, she noted with a twinge of anxiety. She slipped them into her mouth following with a mouthful of water. With a deep breath she stood, ready to continue, walking slowly to join Nikita.

"Do you enjoy doing this?" Nikita asked, nodding towards the plants.

"Yes, it's very relaxing, very ... satisfying" Madeline replied.

"Torturing trees?" Nikita smiled, a soft snort of laughter escaping. "They ... umm ... make jokes about it you know."

"Yes, I've heard the whispers" Madeline smiled.

"Doesn't mean anything, you know, its just talk" Nikita responded quickly, resting a hand momentarily on her arm.

She frowned at this overt gesture, considering what lay behind it. Feeling a wave of vertigo overtake her she eased herself back onto the stool that stood under the large monitor on the wall. She waited for it to pass, watching Nikita.

"Does Michael know you are in love with him?" she finally asked.

"I think so. It's always hard to know with him" Nikita grinned shyly. "He holds back so much. I think he's afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

"Afraid of having everything ripped out from under him, again" Nikita replied.

"I see. And how do you feel about that?"

"It makes it hard, for him ... and for me. But we take what we can get. Its not like we're leading a normal life here, Madeline."

"No" she confirmed, "I'm glad you finally understand that."

"I understand lots of things, but it seems the more I know the less I understand."

She smiled. A change of tack. "When was the last time you and Michael had sex?"

Nikita shook her head dismissively at the crudeness of her question, golden hair swinging to accentuate the movement. "Like you said, we don't just have sex, Madeline" Nikita contested. "But I know what you're getting at. Last night. I went over to his place for dinner." Nikita glanced down at her feet, pivoting the toe of one shoe against the floor.

"I see" she nodded. "How often are you seeing him, outside of Section?"

"For a while there we were sort of living together, but then we eased back, now it's just a couple of times a week, depending on mission assignments and his workload. You haven't exactly made things easy, Madeline."

"Would you describe your relationship as casual."

"No, it can never be casual between us." Nikita turned to Madeline, clear blue eyes revealing nothing but honesty, one hand tracing the path of one of the delicate branches. "Why do you need to know all this?" Nikita asked, curious.

"As I've told you before, anything that affects your work or performance here is my concern."

"Our lives are circumscribed by the work we do here. Does that make everything your concern?"

A smile spread across her face, as she nodded slowly. "Yes, of course."

Nikita reached up, finger following a wire forcing one of the branches into a delicate curve. "I'm curious Madeline, with so much going on, so much of which is life and death, why is our relationship such an issue for you. We get the job done, better than most and certainly to the standard required by the Section, isn't that enough?"

She hesitated momentarily, taken aback by the utter simplicity in the reasoning underlying the question. Struggling to find an answer that would appease both Nikita and herself, she drew a blank. Nothing satisfactory came to mind. At least, nothing that she was ready to admit to.

With a sigh she retreated to the hackneyed defence she had fabricated to shroud this pursuit.

"Michael's percentages have been off, as have yours. You might think a percent here or there is irrelevant but, as you point out, when we're dealing with life and death even trivial numbers becomes highly significant." She swiveled slowly on the seat, taking up the small pruning shears as her fingers began the reassuring process of identifying and removing errant foliage.

"To secure balance the relationship must end, sine qua non" she continued after a while. "In time you will understand the rational behind this." She sat back, observing her work, making minor adjustments to a leaf here and there.

"Maybe, but it would make it easier to follow your directive if I understood the reasons more completely now" Nikita replied softly, watching her work.

"It's complicated" she replied, rubbing a finger methodically over her temple. She blinked slowly, trying to control the trembling that had started in her fingers.

"I've got time" Nikita said confidently.

She was suddenly gripped with a feeling of vertigo that made her sway slightly.

"Madeline, are you alright?" Nikita asked, concerned, reaching out a hand to steady her.

"Yes" she replied shakily, closing her eyes as the room started to spin wildly out of control. She vaguely heard the door opening behind her as she fought to maintain her balance. The trembling in her fingers increased as she dropped the pruning shears, one hand reaching out to the wall to stop her forward movement.

"What's happening here?" Operations demanded as he placed a steadying hand around her waist.

Nikita looked baffled. "I don't know, we were just talking and then ... "

"I'm fine" she interrupted. "I'm fine" she repeated, "everyone stop fussing over me" she added irritably. Standing slowly she gave her legs and head a moment to equilibrate. "Nikita, we'll finish our discussion later" she said quietly.

Nikita nodded. "I'd appreciate that." Turning and leaving, blonde hair swung around as Nikita directed a concerned look back towards her, just discernable on the other side of the closing doors.

Operations waited till they were alone before sitting her firmly back on the stool.

"Madeline, I'm worried about you. What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"It's just a headache" she said softly.

"Do I have to order you down to Medical."

"No, that's not necessary. I've taken some aspirin, they seem to help."

"If they're helping I'll get you some more" he said gently, moving a hand to rest on her shoulder.

Madeline felt her pulse start to race as she struggled to keep her face calm.

"How did you know I needed more?" she demanded, a firm wedge of ice clipping each word.

Operations looked confused for a moment, hands gliding into his pockets. He shrugged, "what does it matter, if you're out I'll call Medical and get them to send some up."

"Thank you" she replied, smiling grimly. She walked over to her desk and sat, her mind starting to race out of control. She breathed slowly, in, out, using the rhythm to restore her focus.

Operations followed her back to her desk, standing behind her. Hands moved to rest on her shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles. He leaned down, his breath warming her ear.

"You're very tense, Madeline. Perhaps you just need to relax ... again" he whispered invitingly.

"I have work to do."

"I can fix that" he replied, undeterred, lips pressing softly against her ear.

"No. I have to finalise the Genefex profile, it can't wait" she said tersely.

"Alright" he said slowly, hands disappearing from her shoulders. "Perhaps I can drop by later, when you're done" he said hopefully.

"Maybe ... you should go now."

He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek as he passed her on his way out.

"Madeline?" he turned, poised in the doorway.

"Yes."

"Are you sure everything is OK?"

"Everything is just fine" she smiled coldly.

Input, analysis, output, action. She let out a slow breath, back in the groove again. Why was she being drugged, and who, other than Operations, was involved? The question formed easily, the answer still needed some work.

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

Light danced.

Opaque shadows filtering through closed eyelids.

Movement. Vague and indistinct but still discernable.

Out of reach.

The muffled sound of drumming.

Solid. Steady.

Her heart?

Muscle pumping blood.

Squeeze. Flow.

Listen. Does it have a message?

The heart.

Isn't it supposed to sing songs of love, happiness and joy?

But not for her.

No love.

No joy.

No happiness.

The message simple.

Alive

Simply, alive.

But why?

The answer floating out of reach, as always.

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

She woke with a start, momentarily disorientated. Memory and perception colliding to give form to her surroundings. All familiar. Lying on her bed in her quarters at Section. She glanced at the clock by the bed. Shit! Past midnight. How long had she been asleep? Hours or minutes, no sense of time. Feeling the panic start to grip her she concentrated, confronting the fear and letting it pass over her as if were a wave at the beach. Powerful but transient, as long as you were in control. Every emotion could be dominated and smothered with control. Until it is nothing. But a memory.

With a deep breath she sat up, waiting for the dizziness to pass before she stood and strolled into the bathroom. Turning on the tap she splashed water on her face, grabbing for a towel as she inspected her reflection in the mirror. She reached out with a finger, tracing the severe lines of her face against the cool, smooth plane of the glass. She fashioned her mouth into a smile, experimenting. The image accommodated this adjustment, but the face staring back didn't really change. Cold, hard eyes still looked out at her, accusingly. She hung her head down, catching her breath. Looking up again, she passed a hand in front of her face, the mirror, peculiarly, recorded no such movement. She rapped her knuckles against its solid, familiar surface. Tricks. Tests. Something going on.

She left her quarters and moved back into the adjoining office, sliding into her chair. The familiar contours surrounding her, comfortable, calming. She tried again to boot up her computer, still nothing. Keying in a code she depressed the button on the intercom on her desk.

"Birkoff?" Silence returned. Dialing another code, her fingers punched angrily at the buttons.

"Michael?" she tried this time. Again, silence.

With an angry sigh she pushed her chair back and stormed towards the door, reaching the bottom step as the door opened in front of her to reveal ... Michael. Serene, confident, as though there was nothing untoward in their near collision.

"Madeline" he stated, accent dancing delicately over syllables.

"You're late, I was just coming to find you" she replied irritably.

"Yes. It took longer than expected."

She turned, returning to her desk, gesturing for him to take a seat.

He sat slowly, placing a disc on the edge of her desk.

"I understand your system is down" he noted indifferently, "would you prefer to do this somewhere else?"

"No. I'll look over the details when Birkoff has the system up again. I'm sure you've done a thorough job" she said crisply.

He didn't acknowledge the compliment, merely folded his hands in his lap. His eyes flicked rapidly to the open doorway to her quarters before moving back to her.

"Do you anticipate any problems?" she asked.

"No. It's straightforward. Small primary team and backup. We can isolate all variables on site."

"Good."

He nodded.

"Your team?"

"Nikita and I primary, Johnson and Chen backup, Birkoff on comm, I'll run tactical on site."

"Fine."

A slight raise of an eyebrow before he nodded again. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes" she stated with as much authority as she could muster.

Holding his steady gaze she considered her earlier discussion with Nikita. It struck her suddenly that the most rational course of action for her now was to let it go, as Paul had suggested. Let it go, and let things take their natural course. Stop wasting her time and the Sections resources on this depressing pursuit. Together they were a formidable team, apart they were distracted and problematic. An easy truth to acknowledge and all the justification needed for a change in approach.

Yet ... what? Why couldn't she let it go? Perhaps for the same reason she had offered-up Simone to Glass Curtain. The same reason she had been so ruthless in using Elena to reach the endgame in the Vackec mission. The same reason she hovered over Nikita.

The reason was sitting opposite her now, waiting patiently. She couldn't let go. Not without ... something. Some sort of closure to the only emotion she could subdue but not obliterate.

"I spoke to Nikita this afternoon" she finally announced, as though offering him a biscuit with his tea.

No response, he waited patiently for what was to come.

"She told me that you were still engaged in a relationship outside Section."

"Yes."

She couldn't subdue the flicker of surprise that passed across her face at this response.

"So" she paused dramatically, "you're finally willing to give me the truth. I asked her why the two of you were still defying my direct orders. I'd like to hear your explanation."

He leveled his calm gaze at her. "I have certain needs, it is usually preferable to meet these from within the existing framework, rather than the outside."

"And Nikita meets these 'needs'?"

"Yes ... mostly."

"Mostly?"

"She has a certain immaturity about what is practicable that is both beguiling and irritating, at times."

"I see." She stood and walked around to the front of her desk, positioning herself in front of Michael as she perched on the edge. "She thinks she is in love with you, and that you might be in love her."

"It's possible."

She smiled at the ambiguity of his answer. Possible that someone might be in love with him, or that he might be in love with Nikita.

"And if I was to sanction, rather than discourage, this relationship?"

"Then anything is possible." Delivered with something close to a smile, as if to confirm that, indeed, anything was possible.

"Do you understand why I have been discouraging this relationship?"

"Do you?" Michael replied.

She smiled. "You think I'm not clear on the reasons."

"I think you are ... conflicted" he said softly.

"In what way?"

"I think that's a question only you can answer."

"Perhaps. But I would like to hear your impressions."

Without hesitation he replied. "I think you perceive Nikita as a threat to my performance and also to your long-term role here in the Section, among other things."

"Your numbers have dropped since you became intimately involved with her" she observed.

"This is not a singularity, my numbers have dropped before."

"That's true, but previously you were able to recalibrate quickly."

"Nikita was one of the reasons I was able to recalibrate quickly."

"That's not really the issue here, though, is it?"

"Then what is?"

Madeline smiled, penuriously impressed with his response.

"In what way is she a threat to my position?" she asked, changing tack again.

Michael allowed a hint of enjoyment to flicker across his face. "Operations will not always be in charge of Section. You have made yourself vulnerable by becoming closely aligned with his methodology and approach."

"Much of his methodology is my methodology."

"Precisely."

"And you see this as a potential weakness?"

"Perhaps."

"Nikita is your weakness."

"Perhaps" he smiled.

She smiled in response, leaning back and clasping her hands in front of her.

"What are the other 'things', you mentioned?" she asked, curious.

Michael gazed past her, letting the seconds stretch by in a well established pattern of attack and counter attack. Finally his attention fixed back on her.

"Your ... attachment" he said cryptically.

"Attachment?" she repeated, puzzled. "To what?" added cautiously.

"Me." A breathy whisper.

She looked away for a moment, mind working furiously as she considered her response, aware of Michael's eyes watching her every move.

"Are you saying you think I have an emotional attachment to you?" she finally asked.

"Do you?" he challenged.

Good question, she thought, before answering emphatically, "yes."

Michael sighed, a finger rubbed slowly across his chin for a long moment. In one fluid motion he rose from his chair and stood in front of her, his body dangerously close. Perhaps just ... dangerous.

"I'm not going to give up Nikita, and you're not going to relinquish the opportunity to deny me this" he summarised quietly, eyes boring into hers. "How do you propose we should resolve this impasse?"

"I have one or two options in play, but I'm open to your suggestions."

"I see" he replied, fingers moving again to rub at his chin. He looked past her, shoulders lifting slightly with a deep breath before settling into their customary rigidity. He clasped his hands, glancing down at them as he seemed to arrive at some conclusion. Settling his gaze on her again his eyes seemed to reflect an inner turmoil, transmitting in their cool green depths both resignation and contumacy.

"Perhaps ... I can offer an alternative option" he whispered.

She paused for a moment, fingers brushing gently at some imaginary imperfection on the lapel of his jacket. A pause as she anticipated capitulation and the intoxicating sense of triumph this produced.

"I'd like to hear it" she finally replied.

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

Synchronicity, the word played on her tongue. Or perhaps that was his tongue, playing on her tongue. No need for intelligible words, better not to think about what was happening. All unnecessary, just the raw noise of passion, seeping lazily from her lips.

Michael's sinuous movements beneath her matched her pace perfectly. His body achingly familiar, so much new and perfected since she had been his teacher. The touch of his fingers as they moved sensuously across her skin almost scalding, finding places she had long forgotten.

She gasped as he shifted position again, rolling her on to her stomach this time, hands cupping each breast, gently massaging. His tongue traced a languorous path down the contours of her back, lips brushing gently against sensitive skin on the return journey. Strong hands moved to capture her hips in a vice, increasing the pressure, adjusting the friction. His lips whispered words and kisses against the nape of her neck. A hand moved lightly across her stomach, fingers tracing a steady path to the apex of her legs. His fingers found their target, stroking slowly at first, then with more insistence as he set up a deliberate, leisurely rhythm.

She closed her eyes, cheek rubbing the softness of the pillow with each thrust. Needing more she pushed herself up, feeling him move instantly to accommodate her. An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back against him. They moved at an agonisingly slow pace, like a thunderstorm gathering on a hot, humid summer day.

Her hands reached behind, one finding a tangle of soft hair, the other kneading a taut buttock. Lips and teeth caressed her neck, forcing out desperate moans of pleasure. She grabbed a handful of hair, pulling his head down as she turned hers sideways to allow her lips to fasten on to his. Her tongue explored his lips and mouth, her own scent still lingering from the passion of their foreplay. His tongue roamed around hers, perhaps seeking the same confirmation of the pleasure she had given him.

With a twist of her hips and leg, she changed position to face him. Thighs clamping on his hips, heels resting against the back of his knees. Her arms circled his neck, fingers roaming greedily through his hair.

One of his hands slid underneath her, fingers splayed to support her buttocks, the other slowly navigated around her shoulders, following the path of his mouth. His fingers came to rest firmly on her shoulder. It began. One hand lifted her and then with a strong upward thrust of his hips the other pulled her back down onto him. Deep, torturously deep. Again, and again.

She arched her back, crazed, falling back against the bed. Michael followed, her legs still wrapped around his hips. His thrusts increased in velocity and intensity, their sweat slicked bodies locked in a tantalising rhythm of crush and release. Her mouth wandered desperately over his face and neck, fingers clutching well defined muscle, nails biting into his skin to pull him closer.

She felt the grip of her orgasm drive the breath from her lungs, all sensation closing down for an excruciating instant before her body exploded. She moaned in blissful agony as it continued, thrashing wildly, Michael's frenzied pounding maintaining her hypersensitive state. His fingers pulled her hair, teeth biting and sucking the flesh on her shoulder almost painfully. With a final shuddering movement his body slowed, muscles twitching around and inside her, breath coming in ragged gulps.

With a deep breath he rolled to her side, still inside. Still everywhere, her senses drenched in him.

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

Madeline watched him sleep. Surprised that he had stayed after their tryst finally ended, even more surprised that he had felt sufficiently relaxed in her company to yield to sleep.

Sleep. Relaxing and regenerative. She craved it, but was too afraid to close her eyes. The dreams hovered on the edge of her waking now, closing in. Straining to get at her.

"Sleep Madeline" Paul had whispered, as they had lain in this precise position earlier in the day, "I'll watch over you." The reassurance she had been seeking, that she could be safe, at least for that moment, in his arms. Warm, comforting sleep, knowing his eyes were on her.

Watching, like now. Though she knew Michael would derive no comfort from the knowledge that she watched him. She always watched, looking for something, anything, in the endless battle for domination. He sighed softly in his sleep, his head burrowing deeper into the pillow. She longed to touch him, but knew the slightest contact would wake him. Or worse, make him recoil, even in sleep, from her touch.

There were no illusions, this was no doting lover sharing her bed. He would consent to this intimacy for what it might return, just as she did. Like lions, the mating ritual was fraught with danger, both knowing the other could deliver a fatal injury for the slightest error in judgement. In this ritual the wounds would not be physical, though they would scar just as deep.

Approach with caution, the facade Michael had perfected, etched with indifference and intimidation. His protection against the world in which they lived. Partly her doing, mostly his. She had, after all, driven him into this mould, perfected it to an art-form in herself.

And the both of them, so different from Paul. He used his power like a sledgehammer, emotions bubbling to the surface at the slightest provocation. Just like Nikita. She smiled at the thought. The attraction of opposites. She and Michael similar in this respect too.

Michael stirred, muscles stretching lazily then relaxing, eyes opening slowly. He glanced at her, and then at the clock by her bed.

"I should go" he whispered softly, instantly awake.

"Yes." A lie.

He looked uncertain for a moment, eyes soft and glistening from sleep. "I could stay, if you want that."

His response started the slow pulse drumming in her head again.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, suddenly feeling the need to be alone.

He shrugged and sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor. "Please yourself" he said quietly, reaching for his clothes. He dressed quickly, then turned to face her. "Thank you, the sex was good" a thin smile accompanying the comment.

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open as his words mirrored those she had been about to say, even down to the facial gesture.

She wavered for a moment, Michael became a blur in front of her. Bright lights exploded on the periphery of her vision. She blinked slowly, trying to focus. A sudden thought sprang into her head.

"This isn't how I wanted it to end" she blurted out.

Michael sat down beside her on the bed, taking one of her hands in his. Back in focus, clear, defined. His face surprisingly tender and open.

"You can make it whatever you want" he said slowly, deliberately.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"If you want me to stay, I'll stay" he shrugged. He watched her, a finger moving to rest under her chin. "If you are uncomfortable with this" he said, gesturing around them with his eyes, "we could get away from Section, go to my place."

Her mind reeled as she processed this comment. A pattern forming, slowly but surely. She cleared her mind, experimenting. Focusing on Michael's face as she let a fleeting idea of hunger hover near on the periphery of her thoughts.

"What is it, Madeline? You seem confused" he whispered soothingly. "Come, let's get out of here. We can spend the morning together, they don't need us till midday. I can make you some breakfast and you can get some sleep. You look exhausted."

He leant across and kissed her softly on the lips, a hand stroking her cheek.

"No." Emphatic this time.

He drew back immediately, looking down at her hand for a minute before releasing it. "Fine" he responded quietly, nodding his head. He stood promptly and without a backward glance made his way out the door towards the exit through her office.

She watched him go, hand rubbing against her face in a useless effort to calm the headache building with renewed intensity. She lay back against the pillows, trying to work through what had just happened. The pattern of thought translating so readily into action. Action. But not hers?

The harder she tried to focus the worse her head pounded. She rolled over, clutching the blankets around her chin. The unfamiliar sensation of utter confusion held her rigid, afraid. More familiar was the feeling of loneliness that washed over her, though the familiarity brought little comfort.

She buried her face in the pillow to stem the flow of tears that suddenly blurred her vision. Who to trust, except herself. And she wasn't even sure of that anymore.

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

Floating.

Trying to escape the suffocating shadow of fear.

Empty space and all this, nothing.

But the fear. And loneliness.

Nothing, passing the time.

Doing nothing.

Except thinking.

Thinking of everything, and anything.

Thinking of taking a chance.

Because, somehow, I know I'll never be here again.

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

"You wanted to see me" Nikita stated as she entered the office.

"Yes, have a seat, Nikita" she directed.

Nikita sat obediently, settling into the seat, crossing her legs.

She smiled. "I thought we'd finish our discussion."

"Yeah, I thought you might want to" Nikita replied.

"I've decided to sanction your relationship with Michael."

Silence. Nikita just stared at her, suspiciously.

"Suddenly you have nothing to say on the issue?" she prodded.

"I ... ummm ...I'm not sure what to say. Is this for real, or some kind of test?"

"It's real." The slow pounding starting again in her head.

"Good. I mean great ... thanks" Nikita stumbled over the words, searching.

A magnificent smile erupted on Nikita's face, lighting the room. A smile she had never seen, pure, uncorrupted joy. A hint of what she had been, before. A hint of what she offered Michael. Joy ... and hope. A rare commodity in their lives. The thought made her unaccountably sad and lonely.

She watched as the smile faded.

"Are you OK, Madeline?" Nikita asked, concerned.

"Why do you ask?"

"You look kinda tired." Nikita shifted nervously in her seat before continuing. "I umm ... well, I just overhead snatches of a discussion between Operations and Michael."

"You were eavesdropping, Nikita?"

"Not deliberately, I was at my workstation, it was sort of hard to tune out."

"What did you hear?"

"They're worried about you."

"What did they say?"

"Michael said something about you not sleeping, that your judgement might be impaired, I didn't hear the rest."

"What was Operations response?"

"I couldn't hear exactly, but something about the medication you were taking."

She sighed and looked around the room, comprehension bringing the pieces together in an all too familiar pattern.

"Fine. That will be all Nikita" she said softly.

Nikita's eyebrows arched as she looked at Madeline, confused. "Don't you want to talk about the other stuff? Chew me out about protocol?"

"No, you can go."

Nikita shrugged and stood, taking a couple of steps towards the door before turning back towards Madeline.

"Something's going on, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's none of your concern Nikita."

"I know, but ..."

"But what?"

"You ... umm, you look like you need ... a friend."

Madeline sat back in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap. It took all her rapidly waning energy to sit upright. She looked up at Nikita, wanting desperately to trust her, to have someone to confide in.

"And your proposing you might be ... a friend."

"Yes" Nikita replied quickly, taking her seat again. "As much as anyone can be in this place. You've helped me out, been there for me. I'd like to think you'd trust me enough that I could do the same for you."

Madeline sighed, closing her eyes briefly. She opened them again, the sensation of vertigo she had felt earlier returning. Nikita's face floated then gradually came back into focus again.

"Madeline?" Nikita implored, "please, let me help."

"Alright Nikita" she sighed, "what did you have in mind?'

Nikita looked puzzled for a moment, then shook her head slowly, smiling. "I was just thinking we could talk, maybe go somewhere, get a cup of coffee ... or tea" she grinned, "away from Section."

There it was again, something not quite right. Just out of reach, again.

"That would be nice" Madeline replied, deciding to go with it, see what happened. She leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. She forced her mind to blank again, then thought only of wanting to be alone. "Maybe later" she said tersely.

Nikita went to say something, lips poised, then stopped. She shrugged. "OK, later" she smiled rising from her seat.

As Nikita reached the door it opened. Operations stood on the threshold, regarding Nikita for a moment as she passed him on her way out. She nodded curtly and the door closed behind her.

"I've just spoken to Michael, the Genefex mission is cued for 10:00 hours tomorrow, and we should have the preliminary numbers for Berlin and Jakarta by this evening" he announced.

Madeline nodded vaguely in response, holding a hand to her temple. She heard him sigh as he moved closer, eyes conveying concern.

"This has gone far enough, Madeline. I'm ordering you to take some downtime." He walked slowly around her desk to stand next to her. "This isn't like you" he said softly, his words almost caressing. "Your behaviour of late is erratic, to say the least." He rested a hand on hers, fingers gently drumming against the back of her hand where it rested on the desk. "you need to rest, get your focus back. There's a car waiting at my private access, Peter will take you home."

Madeline felt emotions spill over, out of control. "Why is everyone trying to get me to leave Section?" She was appalled at the shrill, tremulous quality of her voice but seemed unable to control it.

"You need a break and you can't rest properly here, there are to many distractions" he said soothingly. "We're worried about you." His fingers gently caressed her hand. "I'm worried about you" he whispered into her ear.

"Stop patronising me and answer my question" she demanded.

She jerked her hand out from under his as she swung around in her chair, trying to put some distance between them. As she spun, her hand made contact with the fine crystal glass perched on her desk, sending the fragile vessel crashing to the floor.

Operations glanced at the broken glass on the floor, eyes watching as water dripped slowly from the pool on the desk to ground. He shook his head sadly as though acknowledging some uncomfortable truth.

"See, this is just what I'm talking about" he said tenderly, moving closer.

"What is going on!" she moaned, wiping angrily at the tears that had started streaming down her face. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered, pleading.

"Madeline, you're out of control" he said steadily, moving closer to her.

"Stay away from me" she threatened, clutching at the edge of the desk to steady herself. The pain in her head was excruciating, a constant pounding that made her vision blur and her limbs tremble.

The door opened as Michael entered, taking in the scene and then moving to stand in front of her desk, an equal distance from both of them.

"What is going on here?" he asked calmly.

"This doesn't concern you, Michael" Operations threatened.

Michael ignored him, walking around the desk and examining the broken glass on the floor. His eyes swept over Madeline, scrutinising her closely. He moved slowly until he stood beside her, taking her hand in his and rubbing a thumb gently over her palm. Madeline focussed on his face, feeling the hypnotic movement of his finger as she struggled to remain upright. Withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it delicately around her hand.

"You cut yourself" he said softly, moving an arm around her waist as she started to slump. He pulled her body against his, supporting her weight, drawing her head to rest on his shoulder.

She struggled ineffectually for a brief moment before collapsing into his embrace. Ragged sobs bubbling up in her throat.

"Shhh ... " Michael whispered gently, "it's alright. Just relax, Madeline."

She felt Michael's strong arm circling her, his fingers gently stroking her hair. Desperately wanting to believe the lies he whispered. The pain in her head forced her eyes closed, barely slowing the stream of tears down her cheeks. Her head felt ready to explode, no strength left in her limbs. She tried to speak, but no words would issue.

"She won't leave" Operations finally hissed.

"I told you she was strong."

"What now? Times running out, we've tried everything."

"No, not everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Not here." A pause. "Execute dormant cycle" he commanded.

Madeline dropped, world spinning, Michael catching her, effortlessly, in his arms.

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

Nothing.

Nothing to fill the emptiness.

Nothing to alleviate the monotony,

of nothingness.

Except vague form and shadows.

Not quite peaceful, but close enough.

I know this feeling.

Am I hiding?

Maybe.

Don't let them know.

That the steel on the outside serves only to hide ....

The inside ...

Fragile.

Desolate.

I know this feeling.

I know it well.

Nothing happens.

But a lot goes on.

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

"Team two, report" Michael commanded, eyes scanning the distance, observing the position of his teams in the industrial wasteland surrounding a large, decrepit warehouse.

"On mark" Nikita's terse voice replied. He gazed across to her position, seeing a vague shape in the rapidly fading light.

"Movement?"

"Nothing. Perimeter is secure" she responded.

"Teams three and four move into position and hold."

He watched as dark shapes suddenly appeared, hugging the ground, moving swiftly forward and then disappearing from view.

"Birkoff?"

"You're clear Michael, the thermal resolution isn't great. I'll need you to activate the booster, once your inside."

"Understood. Starting sequence."

Michael gave a slight nod of his head to the three Operatives behind him and sprinted towards a rusty stairwell at the rear of the warehouse. He slowed as he reached the wall, eyes scanning the perimeter before focussing on the door in front of him. Reholstering his gun he placed a small detonator into the door lock and surrounded it with a thin strip of incendiary tape.

"Birkoff, initiate disarm procedure" he whispered, turning and crouching on the ground a couple of metres away.

"Engaged" Birkoff replied after a moment, "You've got five minutes to proceed to second mark."

Michael detonated the charge and with a muffled bang and flurry of dust the door swung off its hinges.

"Convergence pattern, all teams go" he directed, drawing his gun and walking slowly inside the doorway.

He moved quietly down the corridor, gun scanning shape and form, eyes processing detail. He came to the interior access to the laboratory, the building within a building. He followed the wall until he reached a small panel by a steel door. Looking up he saw three cameras mounted on the ceiling, all pointed at him.

"Birkoff, I've found it. Starting download" he whispered, noting Nikita and the rest of his team coming up behind him. Removing a small electronic device from his pocket he secured it to the panel and then activated the relay, watching as numbers cycled rapidly on the LED screen.

"OK Michael, I'm receiving ... very nice ... just as we thought, they're using a gyroremanent magnetization field."

"Can you breach it?"

"Yeah, we just have to set up an alternate field ... give me a sec ... that's got it ... OK, place the toroidal binder unit directly above the panel. There should be tube connecting the panel to the floor, the unit has to be lined up with that."

Michael turned as Nikita passed him the equipment, then set the unit on the wall following Birkoffs instructions.

"Done" he indicated.

"I'm running an interated function system on the fractals, it'll take a couple of seconds ... done, I'll need you to do the deepening sequence as we go."

"Fine, the codes?"

"Key in the following sequence on the panel 3-1-4-1-5-9 then let it run."

"Nothings happening Birkoff, I'm going to try and jackknife."

"Good idea, when you're done key in hash - star- hash, then 0-0-0."

Seconds passed. "Done" Michael whispered.

"Finalising input ... OK ... that should do it."

Michael heard a soft click as the door lock disengaged.

"We're in. Go!" Michael ordered, pushing open the door and sweeping the interior with his gun. Responding to a slight inclination of his head, the other Operatives moved past him, taking positions inside the entrance foyer. One of his team passed him a cylinder, and he quickly pulled out the tripod legs and set it on the floor, activating the electrical panel on the upper surface, making some adjustments.

"Birkoff the booster is activated, report."

"Let's see ... where's your team?"

"In entry."

"Seven on the ground floor, mobile, currently moving through the northwest corner and the southern passage; eight on the first floor, in a room opposite the main stairwell; another three mobile, second floor, eastern passage."

Michael turned to his team, indicating where they should go with a flick of his fingers. Leading the way he moved towards the main stairwell, Nikita behind him, four others spread out behind them. They moved quickly, climbing the stairs, finding the door to a laboratory, a small glass panel on the door allowing a view of the interior.

Michael stood to the side of the door, peering in for a brief instant then withdrawing to the side.

"Michael, status" Operations voice barked into his ear.

"We are at the entrance to main lab, ready to proceed."

"Good." A pause, then "advise me the minute you have the area secured."

"Of course."

Michael looked at Nikita for an instant, her cool gaze revealing nothing. He inclined his head towards the door, indicating she should watch the interior of the lab as he placed a decoder on the panel by the door. Pressing a series of buttons he swiped a magnetic card down the groove in the panel, hearing the click of the door opening.

With a quick nod to Nikita he pushed the door open and rolled in to the right, taking out the two guards stationed by the door. Nikita moved in quickly, launching herself onto the floor and sliding on the smooth surface to shoot the guard stationed by a door in the far corner. The rest of the team poured into the lab, taking up positions around the perimeter, weapons aimed at the remaining occupants of the room.

Michael reholstered his weapon, eyes taking in the scene around him. Two people sat in front of a massive electrical console, hands in the air. To their left, two bodies sat upright inside a large, perspex shell, heads obscured by a metal casing suspended from the roof of the apparatus. Hands jerked within large gloves, from which flowed fine cables connected to the circuitry winding in a labyrinth within the casing of the shell. Lying beside and connected to the shell was a large, cylinder. The metallic, convex surface slopped down to a series of levers and electrical panels.

Michael moved over to stand near the electrical console, eyes flicking dismissively over the two agitated men seated behind it.

"Dr Liu?" he enquired politely, looking from one man to other. When no answer was forthcoming he nodded towards Nikita. She prowled behind the two men, then in a sudden movement held her gun to the temple of one and shot him. The other man cried out in horror, watching as the body of his colleague slid slowly to the floor. His eyes flicked nervously from Michael to Nikita, and then back again.

"I am Dr Liu" he said quietly.

"Good" Michael stated, moving closer. "Now that we have your attention, shutdown the chamber and disengage the subject."

The man hesitated for a moment, then quickly moved into action as he heard the click of a gun and the feel of hot steel against his temple. Nikita pressed the gun in hard, as though this might provide the necessary incentive for the man to move faster. Michael watched as the hand movements of the two men in the shell decreased and then stilled. He looked questioningly at Dr Liu.

"It's done" the man replied nervously.

Nikita reached around with one arm and grabbed the man's throat in a deadly grip, pressing her gun harder into his temple.

"Are you sure" she hissed.

Unable to speak, the man nodded his head vigorously. Nikita increased the pressure on his throat, and he started gagging.

"Nikita!" Michael cautioned, as he moved towards the cylinder. "Detach them and take them to egress " he ordered, nodding towards the men in the shell. Nikita and two other Operatives moved quickly to do his bidding.

Michael examined the smooth, metallic surface of the chamber, searching for and finding a small control panel. He examined it for a moment and then pressed a sequence of keys. The whirl of a hydraulic lever hummed in the silence, accompanied by the slow hiss of air as the pressure seal of the chamber cracked open. The cover moved smoothly upwards, finishing the arc and locking into place with a solid thud.

Michael took a step closer, gazing down at the body inside for an instant. Removing a glove with his teeth, he rested a finger gently against the neck, exhaling slowly as he felt the slow, sluggish beat of life. He worked quickly and efficiently to remove the maze of connecting electrical wires and life-sustaining tubing. Pushing the debris aside he slowly eased his arms under the body.

"Target secure, material acquired, sequence complete" he said softly.

"Status of target" Operations tense voice responded immediately.

"She's alive" he whispered as he stood and carefully lifted Madeline's limp body from the chamber.

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

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, as they had for the last ten minutes. Operations waited, impatiently, watching, fingers playing gently against her hand. Her eyes opened slowly, then closed, then opened again.

"Hello, you're finally awake." He smiled, stating the obvious.

She blinked slowly in recognition, eyes drifting to the jug of water by her bed. He poured a glass, placing a straw in and holding it to her lips. She drank slowly, savoring each mouthful.

"Thank you" she said softly, mouth drifting into a smile for an instant. "How long have I been out?"

Operations stared at her for a moment, assessing, before providing both answers to her single question.

"Michael's team brought you in two days ago. You were missing for ten days."

Madeline frowned at this. "Ten days?" she reflected, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked gently.

She nodded, then returned her eyes to him, a questioning gaze indicating she wanted more.

"They found you in a virtual cognition chamber that was hooked up to some sort of phasing shell, similar to the one we recovered three years ago. Michael, Walter and Birkoff are looking it over now. They're quite impressed. I'm expecting a report later in the day."

"I'd like to see it" she requested, shifting slowly to sit up in the bed.

Operations moved to help her, hurrying to reposition the pillows behind her as she eased herself back.

"Off course" he replied, standing hesitantly by her bed, hands moving to his pockets.

They locked eyes for a moment, words streaming, unspoken.

"I almost lost you" he finally whispered.

"It was close" she conceded, leaning back against the pillows. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, memory unfolding too vivid to ignore.

"Who was in charge?" she asked quietly, opening her eyes.

"A newcomer, Dr Liu Thom."

"And where is he now?"

"Michael's entertaining him in the White Room."

"I'd prefer to do it personally."

He smiled. "That's what Michael said when I handed it to him."

She nodded vaguely, her gaze drifting into the distance.

"I'll let him know" Operations replied gently. "What would you like done with the two we found in the shell?"

"Any analysis?"

"Unclear at this stage, it seems they provided an additional dimension to the procedure. Michael's preliminary analysis suggest they are non-essential to understanding the apparatus."

She blinked slowly, face suddenly blank, eyes tracing a slow arc back to his.

"Cancel them."

Operations smiled. "That's what I thought, it's done."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure" he replied graciously, perching casually on the edge of her bed. His hand moved slowly to cover hers, fingers lacing and gripping strongly. "It's good to have you back" he whispered softly. Taking his glasses off he wiped vaguely at his eye before turning his gaze back to her. "Very good" he repeated slowly, smiling.

Memory, both good and bad, secured in the strength of those fingers, etched in the blue depths of those eyes. A great deal more than nothing. Perhaps even enough. A reason to live.

"Dr Liu" Madeline said genially as she entered the White Room, "I'm pleased to have this opportunity to get to know you." A smile worked across her lips for just an instant. "Of course, you have the advantage. You already know me."

He looked up, not returning her smile.

"You've already described to Michael how you worked for Delore Industries on the Phasing Shell project we neutralised some time ago, and that last year you approached Red Cell seeking funding to support development of a new design." She circled him leisurely as she talked. "What I'm in interested in, Dr Liu, is the details of that arrangement. You'll answer a few questions about that ... and the procedure you put me through."

She looked him over, a finger traced a bruise deepening on his cheekbone. "It seems Michael felt the need to make an impression on you" she smiled. "I hope you've learned something about the need to respond to our questions truthfully and quickly. Let me assure you, whatever transpired during your chat with him will seem quite pleasant by comparison with what's to follow, if you resist."

"Yes, yes ... I understand. Whatever you need" he replied, nodding his head eagerly.

"Good." She stretched her mouth into a meaningless smile as she took a step closer. "Shall we begin?"

Liu shifted slightly in his seat, nodding his head in resignation.

"What information did Red Cell want in return for supporting the development of your design?"

"Information about the location of Section One."

"That's why you had everyone in the VR program urging me to leave the Section."

"Yes. They wanted your egress and ingress access codes. Also, I thought if we could get you to leave voluntarily we could pinpoint a location based on the visual images you registered."

"The apparatus is able to synthesize and authenticate virtual image output into a readable format?"

"Yes, I used a system of Augmented Reality. It requires hard information about the subject and their environment to develop the virtual template the program uses to build the scenario. Red Cell was able to provide me with visual footage of the Section. Taken, I understand, by one of your Operatives during a failed takeover bid some months ago. I was also provided with a copy of the Directory acquired some years ago. We had to restrict the program so that your interactions were only with those people with whom you are most intimately familiar. Your own perception compensated for inadequacies in the information and provided us with the detail to fill in the background to a satisfactory level. I was reluctant to move the program out of your office and quarters for the same reason."

"Irrespective of your confinement of the program parameters, the information was out of date. I would have registered the inaccuracies."

"You did, in a sense. The drugs we use assist in freeing perception so that the subject works to compensate from memory to fill in the necessary detail. . Full cooperation results in the subject achieving a sense of balance and well-being while in the chamber. The headaches and nausea you experienced were a by-product of your sub-conscience being ... uncooperative, for want of a better word, against the detail we were stimulating you to provide."

"So you're saying that the subject creates their own version of reality within the predefined scenario created by the program."

"Yes, it's important for the subject to take control. It's achieved through a process of residual self image. The subject makes themselves and those around them into what they would like to perceive. Once they have fully engaged, reality becomes a relative concept. The program processes and incorporates all the relevant thought patterns to build on the scenario."

"Yet it's important to maintain reality if you want to get the outputs you require."

"That's why we use the animators."

"I presume you're referring to the two we found in the Shell. Explain how that works."

"I've found the subject becomes to isolated without external stimulus. The animators are looped into the program through a ring network. They essentially play the role of the various characters generated by the subject, providing the necessary repetition or stimulus to direct the subject to divulge the information required. They're provided with the available background information of the character, and adjust according to the subject's apperception of what they should do. Or, what the subject would like them to do."

"Very impressive, though imperfect. I became aware of the lag between my perceptual response and their reaction."

He shrugged. "It's a trade-off. If you allow the animators too much or too little latitude to direct the scenario you run the risk of them moving out of character, either way the subject becomes suspicious."

"So you built in a corresponding thought pattern. Through auto-suggestion you made me suspect the physical symptoms I experienced were the result of the Section attempting to manipulate me for some purpose. Intimation of conspiracy to hide the obvious, divert my attention."

"Actually, you were the one who gave me the idea" he replied warily, "it was one of your early responses to the anomalies."

"The computer system, the intercom?"

"Your memory and recall is good, but not that good. Just as I am good, but not that good" he replied arrogantly. "It was easier to fabricate a lie to overcome this obvious deficiency in the technology you invoked in your office."

Madeline moved behind him, out of view for moment, processing the information he had provided so far. A myriad of emotions passed through her as she remembered the sequence of events she had, apparently, 'invented'. She closed her eyes to the pain of comprehension that it hadn't been real. Just wished for. A cruel exposure and manipulation of her most private needs and wants. With a deep breath she buried the feelings of recrimination and vulnerability. Burying them deep, replacing them instead with controlled anger. Well, nearly controlled she admitted to herself.

"Why did you select the Genefex mission as a background to the program" she continued, moving to stand in front of him, hands clasped behind her.

"I had been following the work of Dr Gellman. Red Cell informed me that you had contacted him regarding the neural modification experiments he has been conducting over the last few years. I was interested in what you might have come up with." He shifted again, fists clenching within the restraints. "I must say, Madeline, I was dazzled with the design you provided us with for the Adjustment Module."

"Thank you" Madeline smiled thinly, commencing her slow, circular pacing again. "Is that the only reason?"

"No" he replied, slowly, cautiously.

Madeline stopped her pacing, turning slowly to face him. "Why else?"

"We ran a number of possible backgrounds for which we had information. The Genefex mission seemed to produce the most overtly emotional responses from you. I considered this the best environment for developing the program parameters. The more emotionally retrograde the environment the easier it is to control the subject."

"One final question, Dr Liu. Why did you select me?"

"The procedure and apparatus are still in development. We needed someone who could provide the psychological and environmental input needed to build a believable scenario. In reviewing our options you were the only person considered suitable." He smiled, hopeful that what he intended as a compliment would be taken the right way.

"I see" Madeline said thoughtfully, ceding to his conclusion. "I'd like to thank you Dr Liu, you've been very helpful."

"I'm glad" he said, daring an eager grin, "I want to cooperate, do whatever is necessary."

"Of course" she nodded in agreement.

"I expect that my cooperation will be ... rewarded" he smiled hopefully, confidence increasing.

"It will" she smiled, withdrawing a gun from her pocket and aiming it at him as she chambered a round. "Your death will be quick, which is more than you deserve" she whispered pleasantly as she pulled the trigger.

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

The click of her heels echoed down the empty corridor, as measured as a metronome keeping an allegro beat. The weight of the still warm gun in her pocket imparted a certain reassurance to this, her return to the halls of the Section. She passed faces, greeting the familiar and irrelevant with a studied ease, purposefully in control. As she turned the corner she spied an all too familiar face.

"Nikita" she smiled effusively, "you're just back from the Manila mission, I understand it went well."

"Yeah, it was a quick in and out, no problems" Nikita replied. "Good to have you back Madeline" she added, smiling face radiating as much warmth as a heavy frost.

Madeline frowned, memory suddenly replaced by extant reality. She sighed, drawing no comfort from contemplation of what might have been as it had played out in her head over the last few days. The enormity of what she had engineered stared back at her through vapid blue eyes.

"Thank you" she said graciously, "it's good to be back. How are things with you?" She watched for a response, waiting, the silence as incriminating as words.

Nikita shifted restlessly, eyes flitting, searching for some anchor in the distance. With a shrug she finally replied "I'm fine, 'things' are ... same as always."

"Good" she responded blandly, the corners of her mouth flexing hurriedly into and out of a curt smile. "Come by and see me after you debrief, there are some issues I'd like to discuss with you" her statement both an invitation and command.

Nikita nodded then turned, strolling off down the hall. Madeline watched her departure for a brief moment. Memory of a joyous smile almost painful. Reality, however disquieting and regretful, was now fully restored. She would move on, as she always did, neither regretting nor dwelling on the lure of 'what-ifs'.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Move on, a corridor, a decision, whatever was required. Denial as much a part of her reality as breathing.

The beat maintained, click, clack, click, clack.

Each step reinforcing her resolve.

Click, clack, click, clack.

And with each step another memory buried.

Deep.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Down, deeper, private and inviolable.

Click, clack, click, clack.

With a deep breath she rounded the corner, into Analysis.

At the sound of her approach Michael looked up from the screen he was hunched over, a slight arc of movement, accomplished and dismissed in an instant. The obtrusive expressions on Birkoff and Walter seemed almost garish by comparison.

"Have you been able to ascertain anything more about the apparatus?" she inquired, a finger running slowly along the cold metal of the cognition chamber retrieved from the laboratory.

"It's a piece of work" Walter said admiringly. "Makes the phasing shell look like an arcade game."

"Yeah, this time they've incorporated an entire new dimension" Birkoff added enthusiastically. "Not only does it have the capacity to provide a visual relay of the thought function, with the addition of the modified phasing shell they can augment the virtual program with any range of backgrounds and direct the response of the target."

Walter grinned. "It peels your head open like a banana, then let's others inside to watch and participate in what's going on."

"Interesting" Madeline replied, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with Walter's choice of words. She walked over to the far wall of the lab to stand behind Michael, leaning in to read the screen in front of him. She noticed the almost imperceptible tensing of his shoulders as a result of her proximity. He disguised it quickly with a slight shift to allow her better access the data scrolling in front of him, his fingers working speedily across the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" she asked, curious.

"I'm decoding the dye-polymer discs we found in the subnetwork attached to the chamber" he replied softly, removing the headphones from his ears.

"What are they?"

"They recorded the optical and auditory feedback from the chamber while the program was running."

"So they recorded my response."

"Yes"

"Have you been successful?" she asked diffidently.

"Yes, it was a relatively simple time dimension multiplexing. I'm about halfway through the recorded segments."

"I see" she replied, eyebrows lifting in a questioning gaze. "Have you been able to observe the segments."

"There were some problems with transient errors in the viewing plane, but, yes, I have viewed the preliminary output."

"I see. Has anyone else seen this?" she demanded.

"No, after a reviewing the first few segments I decided to isolate the data." He turned to face her for the first time, his expression scrupulously nonchalant.

"Thank you" she said candidly.

"There's no need" he rebuffed, voice whisper soft. "We all have things which should remain private, when it is does not compromise Section requirements." He examined her closely, eyes measuring and evaluating.

Madeline returned his too perceptive gaze, weighing the import of each of his words.

"Privacy is merely a euphemism for secrecy. It's an indulgence that leads to weakness and error" she responded perfunctorily in a well rehearsed litany for the masses.

"In our world of stealth shrouded in secrecy, this must surely be a conundrum, even for you Madeline" Michael observed, a faint smile softening his gaze. His eyes moved to appraise her, wandering insinuatively before resting on her face. "Denial of what we need can also lead to weakness and error" he added pointedly.

Madeline's eyes swept the room before returning to Michael, a smile emerging on her face. "Are you comfortable with the potential ramifications of continuing this analysis?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering "perhaps it would be more appropriate for me to discontinue and seal the files 'for your eyes only'."

"Perhaps" she agreed, smiling. "However, I want you to continue. Bring the decoded files to my office as soon as you're done" she commanded.

"Yes, of course" he replied, eyes connecting to her hers.

She reached out, a shaky hand brushing fingers against his cheek for an instant before withdrawing. His eyes never left hers, a slow blink the only indication he had registered her touch. She sighed, memory washing over her, guilty tears threatening to break through. Stealing her composure as she had stolen his hope.

With a sudden shift he turned back to the screen, eyes and body immediately refocused on his task. Madeline watched for an instant, accepting this rebuttal. She folded her arms in front of her as she walked back towards Walter and Birkoff.

"When will I have an update?" she demanded.

"It'll take another couple of hours to get this apart" Birkoff replied, looking up from the electrical panel they were engrossed in.

"How long Birkoff?"

"Four hours, max."

"Good. Let me know as soon as you're done" she replied wearily.

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

Safely back in her office, Madeline sat with an uneasy sigh. Leaning her head back against the chair she surveyed her surrounds with a penetrating analysis.

Everything as she remembered, the manifest in her memory scrutinising every detail. Everything was as it should be.

Finally.

Her hand reached under the rim of her desk to expose a small keypad, fingers moving in a well practiced sequence to disengage the surveillance in her office.

Privacy, almost. Secrecy, definitely. Michael's accusing words played again in her head. Too much to consider now, she stored them away for another time.

Her mind drifted lazily through memories of the last few days.

On one level she could appreciate it for what it was, a simulated reality designed to breach her defenses, force her into exposing critical information about Section.

On another, more acutely personal, level, she acknowledged the experience for what it had produced - a painful exploration and exposure of her wants and needs. Each thought, each action, each sensation so tangible it was impossible to believe it wasn't real.

It wasn't! Real.

She forced the thoughts out as words, as though this might help to dispel the lingering doubt. And pain. And aching melancholy as she confronted what might have been. The realisation that, had she chosen more wisely, the power to make this alternate reality become real had been there all the time. The thought almost too painful to bear.

She watched, fascinated, as heavy liquid drops splashed on the desk in front of her. Tears. She wiped angrily at the spots on her desk, disgusted by this self-indulgent display of vulnerability.

A small glint on the floor suddenly caught her attention. Using the toe of her shoe she flicked it out from under the corner of the desk, where it had been partially concealed. As thought moving in slow motion she bent to pick it up, fingers reluctant to grasp the delicate piece of glass.

She held it up to the light. The intricate pattern etched in the crystal as surely as memory of its origin was etched in her mind. She forced out a shaky breath. Thoughts, again, trapped in the nothingness between illusion and reality.

Her eyes scanned the office. Everything as she remembered, the manifest in her memory scrutinising every detail. Everything was as it should be. Just like last time. The same, but, perhaps, not the same.

Input, analysis, output, action.

The questions formed easily ... but the answers?

Too overwhelming, at least for the moment, to contemplate.

Panic and fear, too close to the surface.

The tests, the tricks, the uncertainty never end.

But life goes on. Regardless.

And, after all, she was alive, wasn't she?

Alive.

She remembered what that was like.

Click ... clack ... click ... clack ...

Finis

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