The doors slid open in well-oiled silence and released the small group of returning operatives. All were beautifully dressed for what had turned out to be an unproductive evening of surveillance at a fashionable new nightclub in town. The aroma of cigarette smoke followed their elegantly clad figures as they trooped down the hall to turn in equipment.

Madeline fell in with Michael and Nikita as they walked along behind the main group. "I'd like to see you both in my office before you check in with Walter", she said with her customary pleasant smile. "I have a little personnel matter I'd like your help with."

"Personnel?" Nikita said curiously.

Madeline looked at them, something unreadable in her expression raising the hairs on Nikita's neck. "Yes," she replied, then explained further as they walked along. "We have a new operative recently arrived from the European sub-station where he trained. He passed evaluation there, but due to 'extenuating circumstances' we felt that we needed to do a final evaluation here."

She paused and gestured for them to preceed her through the open door of her office. The man seated before the desk rose at their entrance and turned to face them. He didn't speak at first, but let his eyes travel over Nikita, from her soft, loose hair to the sequined shoes just showing under the clinging black dress she wore. Then he smiled. "I see you're still hanging around with the wrong sort of people, Nikita."

"You!" Nikita had stopped short in surprise, but recovered herself quickly. "Yeah, and I see you still need a haircut", she retorted. Michael watched, vaguely annoyed by the man's close perusal of Nikita. With a hand at the small of her back, he propelled her toward a chair, taking a seat himself between her and the other man.

Madeline stood before them, leaning comfortably on the edge of her desk. "I expect you both remember Mr. O'Brien." She raised an eyebrow slightly. "And the unusual circumstances of his recruitment."

Michael sat back wearing his usual detached expression, his eyes never leaving O'Brien. "What is it you want with Nikita and me, Madeline?"

Nikita glanced at him, surprised a little at both his impatient question and his choice of wording that linked their names. Madeline also paused a beat to look at Michael, then resumed speaking.

"Mr. O'Brien will be with us for the couple of weeks. We'd like him to work with you and Nikita on selected missions both for the purpose of evaluation and for the furthering of his education." Madeline glanced around the trio. "Questions?"

Michael and Nikita looked at O'Brien. O'Brien looked at Nikita. No one had any questions. "Well, then", Madeline said briskly, straightening up. "I'll see you all at the briefing in a half hour."

Madeline smiled to herself, noting Michael's hand again lingering possessively at Nikita's back as they rose to leave. This would be more interesting than she had expected.

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

Operations stood before the long conference table. His customary annoyed expression was enhanced by peering at them all over the top of his glasses. "We're going to give the nightclub one more chance tonight. If we can't get Calabro this way we're going to have to do something less subtle. Michael has the surveillance plan and your positions. See Madeline for outfitting, as usual." With a last fierce look, he departed.

Michael rose then and put up an image of the nightclub floor plan. "We will stay with the same positions we've been using." He paused and gave O'Brien a neutral glance. "To recap for Mr. O'Brien's benefit, we are dividing into teams to cover the bar, dining area and dance floor."

O'Brien spoke up then with a quick sideways glance at Nikita. "Great, I love to dance." Nikita rolled her eyes and looked away.

"The dance floor is covered", Michael said in a cool tone, also glancing at Nikita. "You will be a drink waiter, serving from the bar to all dining tables. Keep your eyes and ears open. If Calabro comes in you will have first access to him. Do nothing to arouse suspicion and wait for my instructions."

He snapped off the floor plan visual and went on. "Our objective is to take Calabro quietly and alive." He looked around the table. "It is imperative that he be brought in alive."

O'Brien loitered near the exit and stepped out after Nikita. She wasn't sure what to say to him. He had been an innocent'a clean cop who had inadvertently latched onto Nikita after a serial rapist/murderer had foolishly tried to target her. Thinking she could handle the situation on her own, Nikita had not reported it to the Section, and the entire matter had mushroomed. In the end, the only solution was either cancellation or recruitment for O'Brien.

"Look," she said to him. "I can imagine how you must feel about me getting you involved with all this. I know what the last two years have been like for you." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You must hate me."

"Actually, I did for a while", he said as they walked along the silent hall. "But I have learned enough to understand now what the situation was on your end." He stopped her with a hand on her arm and looked at her intently. "You *tried* to keep me out of it. I have wondered for two years if I'd ever see you again to tell you I understand that now."

Nikita smiled sadly at him. "You're a nice man, O'Brien. You were a good cop and I've always regretted getting you into this. If I'd done things differently you would still be out there'.with a life." She looked down at the floor, feeling afresh the guilt of bringing this innocent man into the pseudo-life of the Section.

O'Brien lifted her chin and smiled into her eyes, shaking his head. "No, don't. I don't blame you. I've always loved being a cop and the way I look at this, now I get to chase the *really* bad guys." He stroked her cheek once, then lowered his hand abruptly as they heard approaching footsteps.

Michael did not pause or speak as he came upon them in the hall. Without changing stride he only looked at Nikita and nodded curtly before passing by. Nikita's eyes followed his retreating back. "Well'", she said, smiling uncomfortably at O'Brien. "I'd'better go see Madeline'.for tonight's get up."

Self-consciously she walked away, leaving O'Brien looking after her and grinning to himself as she disappeared around the corner.

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

The atmosphere in the nightclub was festive but restrained, the patrons being mainly people of means who were momentarily diverted by the novely of having a new place to spend their money. It would not do to be raucous.

Nikita yawned behind her hand. It was late and Michael was checking in with everyone before deciding whether to give up waiting. Over his shoulder Nikita saw O'Brien approaching carrying a small tray with a glass of white wine perched at its center. He placed it before Nikita with a flourish. "This comes to you from an admirer," he said formally.

Nikita looked around briefly before turning back to O'Brien with a puzzled expression. "Somebody sent me a drink? Who?"

"Well", said O'Brien, "he didn't give his name, but he was a good looking guy, seemed real friendly. Had on a red flower." He smiled again at Nikita and raised his eyebrows once.

Nikita's eyes went involuntarily to the scarlet carnation tucked into the lapel of O'Brien's waiter uniform. Michael's eyes never left O'Brien's face as he spoke in a chilly voice. "We are here to do a job. Get back to your position and pay attention."

O'Brien did not reply before turning around to depart the way he had come. Pausing to take a drink order a couple of tables over, he looked up briefly and winked at Nikita.

A beautiful old big band ballad began then, and Michael rose from his chair at the small table to hold out his hand to Nikita. "Everything is quiet for now", he said. "Would you like to dance?"

Nikita nodded and put her hand in his, feeling some relief at his invitation. Michael had been distant and cool this evening even by his usual standard of behavior. She suspected it had something to do with O'Brien, but, as usual, she could only guess at what was in his thoughts.

They made their way out into the loose crowd already on the dance floor, each looking over the other's shoulder in an ingrained constant awareness of their surroundings. Nikita raised her arms to begin dancing and found that Michael's hand at her waist was holding her firmly several inches away from his body. She looked at him with narrowed eyes but said nothing, waiting for him to explain if he chose to.

He gazed into her face, his expression unreadable. "You need to make sure that your' friend'understands the Section's policy on relationships."

Nikita raised her chin in a defensive gesture. "I will. Don't worry."

"It's my job to worry." His voice was still cool, but the hand at her waist moved down a few inches and pulled her close in to his body. Agreeing to the unspoken truce, Nikita rested her head on Michael's shoulder and they followed the music without speaking. Michael's fingers brushed her back, left bare by the construction of the dress she wore. The lush music drew them in, and she felt his fingers press gently against each individual vertebra as he moved his hand down as far as decency allowed. Where their other hands met neither noticed how tight the clasp had become. Drawing a deep breath Nikita lifted her head, forcing herself to focus on the reason they were here. Their lips were a handsbreadth apart and Michael's gaze was irresistibly drawn there from her eyes.

"He's here", Michael murmered, still looking at Nikita's mouth. She quickly straighted up, putting a few safe inches between them and whispered back, "Where?"

"Being seated at a table directly behind you, far side of the room." He turned with her then so he could make eye contact with O'Brien near the bar. "You're on, O'Brien."

As the dance ended Michael and Nikita returned to their table and continued to observe Calabro and his small party drinking and dancing.

O'Brien maneuvered his way to their tables, taking orders and making small talk, his waiter act having every appearance of normalcy. "They're here for a quick one." O'Brien's whisper came into Michael's ear through the com set. "Apparently his girlfriend is getting cabin fever being cooped up in the hotel and he's humoring her with a drink and a couple of dances."

Calabro again ushered his mistress onto the dance floor. "Pay attention. Our window is small and opening soon", Michael notified everyone as he and Nikita rose to dance again a moment later, as near as they could to their target.

"I've had enough", they heard Calabro saying over the unintelligible protests of his date. "After this we're getting out of here." Calabro nodded toward his table and four of his half-dozen entourage members headed for the door.

Michael spoke quietly into his com set. "They're getting ready to leave. Team Two you have four coming out to get the car. Let them." The music began to wind down to its conclusion and Calabro took his date by the hand, collecting her wrap and bag from the table and heading for the back exit. "Now."

In the back hallway Michael and Nikita overtook Calabro, his date and the two remaining bodyguards. After silently dispatching the bodyguards, there was only token resistance from Calabro, and Michael subdued him without effort. Nikita covered the girlfriend, who quivered soundlessly against the wall. "Team Two, neutralize the exterior, we have Calabro. We're coming out now."

They opened the back door slowly, alert for surprises. In the streetlamps Calabro's black limousine shone expensively, the slumped forms of his remaining bodyguards barely visible in the shadows. The Section van quickly pulled to a stop between the restaurant and the limo. Nikita kept her position next to the restaurant door while the other Section operatives began boarding for departure from the far side of the van. Michael pulled their captive toward the open near-side door.

Nikita's peripheral vision registered a furtive movement and she turned in alarm to see Calabro's girlfriend creeping quietly away from the back door of the restaurant, a small pistol aimed waveringly at Michael's unprotected back. The woman's face was tear streaked and terrified. She was too far away to take down by hand, and Nikita felt a familiar sorrow as she raised her silenced pistol and shot the woman. Michael turned instantly upon hearing the tiny spit of the silencer. Their eyes locked for a moment over the fallen body, then Michael turned back and shoved Calabro headfirst into the van.

O'Brien and another operative came quickly to retrieve the body of the woman. O'Brien shook his head regretfully. "Was it really necessary to kill her? Couldn't we have taken her in?"

Angry at herself and the part she was forced to play, Nikita responded sourly, "Well, O'Brien, in this job we don't have to worry about the rights of the criminals. You'll just have to get used to that."

"Sure", he said sarcastically. "Like you have." Nikita shook her head and turned away from him, boarding the van in silence.

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

O'Brien, Nikita and Michael left the debriefing very late. The grab at the restaurant had been perfectly clean, and Calabro would be a fountain of information on an arms dealing syndicate they were trying to break up. They left Operations actually looking pleased for once.

"Anybody want to go get coffee?" O'Brien not wasn't tired, he seemed actually pumped by the evening's experience. "Michael? Nikita?"

"No." Michael knew he wasn't invited, and he had no interest in going if he were. He looked at Nikita and a smile barely touched his lips. "You go ahead."

Nikita sighed in mild exasperation. "I'm tired, O'Brien'," she began.

"Oh, come on", O'Brien wheedled. "Just for a little while. I'm too wired to sleep and could use some company."

Nikita relented, feeling obscurely pleased that someone desired her company. "All right," she sighed. "But just one cup then I'm going home to bed." She looked at Michael, frowning a little. "Well'good night then," she said, feeling awkward.

Michael watched them walk away from him, O'Brien gesticulating as he spoke words that Michael could no longer make out. As they turned the corner he heard Nikita laugh out loud, a clear ringing sound that caused a familiar clenching in his chest. He stared down the empty hallway a moment longer, unseeing, then turned away to bury himself in the evening's report.

He didn't know how much later it was when he heard steps approach, then stop at his door. He concealed his surprise at seeing Nikita's face appear around the corner. "Busy?" she inquired.

"I'm finished," he said, clicking off the monitor and leaning back a little in his chair. "What happened to your coffee?"

Nikita sat on the edge of a chair facing Michael's desk and looked at him with a smile and a slight shake of her head. "We left an hour and a half ago, Michael." She glanced at the computer screen and small stack of diskettes at its side. "I guess time flies when you're having fun."

Michael ignored this. "Did you want to talk about something?" he asked quietly.

Nikita met his even gaze and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well'.yes, I guess I do." She got up and moved to stand at the window, peering out between the slats of the blinds. She spoke again without turning around. "You don't like O'Brien much, do you?"

"Whether I like or dislike him is unimportant. I will evaluate him based on his effectiveness as an operative." This was not an unexpected response. Nikita sighed then and turned back to face Michael.

"You know, I think he really *likes* being in the Section", Nikita said musingly. She walked back to the chair she'd been sitting in and leaned her arms on its back. "He kept talking tonight about getting these people off the streets. About being able to really do something for a change."

Michael considered for a moment before speaking. "He's been a cop for a long time'" he began.

Nikita broke in immediately in a sarcastic tone. "Yeah, yeah, I know'and he likes not having his hands tied any longer by the Bill of Rights." She shook her head in frustration. "It's more than that. Something just seems'wrong."

Michael said nothing. Straightening up, Nikita looked at him with a frown. "Never mind. You don't believe in intuition. I don't know why I imagined we could have a conversation about this." Her lip curled. "You'd give him extra points for actually *liking* it in here, just like you do."

She turned her back on him then and continued in a lilting, sing-song tone. "Or maybe'.you can't be objective about him at all because he's a little t-o-o friendly with me." Nikita gave a sarcastic laugh she turned to face Michael again. "He and I are possibly the only two true innocents in this place. That gives us a lot in common."

Michael looked at Nikita with a detached expression on his face. His eyes narrowed slightly but still he said nothing.

Nikita gave a snort of disgust. "Right. Well, I'm going home to bed. Thanks for your input Michael. It's always good talking to you."

Slamming the door behind her, Nikita did not see Michael close his eyes and rest his forehead on his palms, frustration and sadness showing on his face now that there was no one to see.

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

"Hey guys." Birkoff's face peered at them from the open doorway. "Briefing in five."

Michael surveyed the desktop between himself and Nikita, covered with printouts and disks. Clearly they were in the middle of something. "We'll be there," he said briefly.

"Yeah. OK." Birkoff paused. "Have you guys seen O'Brien?"

"Not for days", Nikita responded, sounding a little surprised, as if she hadn't realized until that moment how long it had been. "Why?"

"Can't find him. No answer at home, no answer on the cell phone. He hasn't been in." Birkoff shrugged. "Not my problem." He sounded relieved to be able to say so, then pulled his head back from the doorway and disappeared as Michael began clearing the desk.

Operations' pale eyes looked around the table, long experience allowing him to assess each individual at a glance. He noted O'Brien's absence without surprise, then began talking.

"Thanks to the cooperation of Mr. Calabro we are now able to target the next level up in the arms trade hierarchy we're hitting." He paused to bring up the image of a darkly handsome man of about 40. "This is Alberto Pima. Former drug runner now graduated to arms dealing. His family has deep pockets, which has undoubtedly contributed to his meteoric rise in the arms world at a fairly young age."

A sudden commotion then at the door brought Operations up short. He looked over his glasses in annoyance as O'Brien hurried to the table, his appearance even more unkempt than usual. "Sorry. Didn't realize my cell battery was down so low'sorry," O'Brien finished lamely and dropped into the chair next to Nikita.

"See that it doesn't happen again, Mr. O'Brien", was Operations' acid response. He went on then, taking the time to meet the eyes of each person sitting before him. "Pima is the best link we've ever had to getting at the top of this syndicate. As with Calabro, bringing Pima in alive will be top priority. Anyone around him is expendable, but we must have Pima for questioning."

Nikita heard O'Brien draw his breath in sharply and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring intently at the image before them, recognition clear in his face. Nikita softly bumped his leg beneath the table to bring him back before he drew attention to himself.

"I'll fill you in on what you missed", Nikita said aloud as the others were rising to leave. Pulling a file of photos and data toward them she busied herself, saying nothing, until the room cleared.

She stood then and swiveled O'Brien's chair by its back until he was looking up at her. "All right. What is going on?" Her tone was demanding and without humor. "Where have you been?" She grabbed a photo from the table. "And what do you know about him?"

O'Brien stared at her for a long moment before looking away and drawing a deep breath. He scrubbed his bristled hair and seemed to be deciding what to say. Finally he spoke in a low, poisonous tone, staring at the picture. "That man murdered my parter. And did this to me."

He stood. Turning away from Nikita he drew his shirt partway up, revealing what should have been the unmarked skin of his back. Instead Nikita looked with revulsion at a torturous mass of scar tissue forming a large patch from his shoulder blades nearly to his waist. "My god", she whispered. She raised her hand hesitantly but let it fall back to her side without touching him. "What happened?"

O'Brien turned and tucked his shirt in, not meeting Nikita's eyes. He spoke matter-of-factly. "It was when Pima was into drugs. We were undercover. Didn't know we'd been blown." He looked up at her. "Pima had us for two days before they got us out. He made me watch while he burned my partner to death'." His voice trailed off and he looked away. "I have to kill him."

After a moment of heavy silence O'Brien suddenly sat down again in the chair next to Nikita and leaned toward her, speaking in an animated voice. "Do you know what I've been doing lately when I'm not in here?" His eyes were avid with a secret itching to get out. Nikita shook her head briefly, saying nothing.

"I've been cleaning house!" With this triumphant announcement O'Brien grabbed Nikita's hands and leaned closer to her. "You made me see it, after you shot that woman and said something about not worrying about criminals rights." He squeezed her hands tighter. "Every punk, every pimp, every dangerous asshole I've ever had to put up with on the street when I was a cop.'it's open season on them now. And I have a permit."

He leaned back in the chair and spun once around, euphoric, unable to sit still. "Don't you see, Nikita. This is a way for us to make some sense out of our life sentence with Section. Get the big guys on their time and the little guys on our time."

Nikita looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "O'Brien, I shouldn't even have to tell you all the reasons that's a bad idea."

He went on as though she hadn't spoken, jumping out of his chair and going to stand behind Nikita, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We could do this together, Nikita. You and I." He leaned down close and whispered next to her ear. "It would be a good thing to do. And we would be good doing it."

Slowly he turned her chair so she was facing him. He leaned his hands on her chair arms and moved in even closer. Still speaking in a whisper he continued. "What do you say?"

Nikita closed her eyes against the sight of his face so near. "No", was all she said.

O'Brien straightened up, surprise and affront on his face. "No? No what? No cleaning house or no us?"

Nikita gave sigh of frustration. "Look, your idea of cleaning house is going to get you cancelled. I shouldn't have to explain to you the risk of exposure. That's what got you involved in this mess to begin with. "As for the other'. " She shook her head and looked away.

"Well?" O'Brien prompted. "Don't stop now." He folded his arms and waited.

Nikita rose from her chair and spoke with her back turned to him. "Nothing like that is possible. Ever. The Section owns you. The Section owns me. There is nothing else."

O'Brien closed the few steps between them and spun Nikita around with a hand on her shoulder. "No'you don't belong to the Section. It's him, isn't it? Michael owns you."

Nikita said nothing in response but O'Brien saw in her face that he had hit home. He took his hand off her and his voice was filled with disbelief. "How can you love someone that cold? He's a machine."

Nikita headed for the door, her face hard and her voice low and grating. "Give up the house cleaning, O'Brien, if you know what's good for you."

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

Nikita stood outside Madeline's office, an internal debate raging. Although it was difficult to admit even to herself, she knew O'Brien was not seeing the big picture. Both his vigilante activities and his intent to kill Pima would be unacceptable to Section. Beyond the consequences to himself, the killing of Pima would break their link in the tenuous chain they were building to the top management of the arms syndicate. It could have consequences to thousands or even millions of people. The choice seemed to come down to either turning him in now to face possible cancellation, or waiting until they found him out, when cancellation would be certain. Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Nikita knocked gently at the door. Hearing Madeline's summons, Nikita entered the room and was surprised to see Michael looking at her from a seat near the desk.

Madeline smiled warmly. "Yes, Nikita?"

Nikita glanced uncertainly from Madeline to Michael, trying to decide whether he should hear what she had come to say. He looked at her patiently then crossed his arms, looking like he was not going anywhere. Nikita sighed.

"Madeline, I think we may have a problem with O'Brien", she began. Madeline looked at her with interest but said nothing. "I hope", Nikita went on slowly, looking intently at Madeline, "that as I tell you this you'll remember that O'Brien is still new at this, and that he has a different background than most of'us."

Madeline nodded slightly, her soft brown eyes unreadable. "We take everything into consideration, Nikita. Weighed according to its importance to the Section. Please go on."

Nikita's shoulders sagged in resignation then and she began to relate what she had learned about O'Brien's activities and his connection with Alberto Pima. It sounded damning even to her ears and when she had finished she sat expressionless, knowing that she had signed his death warrant.

Finally, when she could stand the silence no longer she looked up to see Madeline smiling at her with approval. "Nikita," she said, speaking gently, "you did the right thing in coming to me with this. It's right for the Section and it's right for O'Brien. I am pleased with your judgement."

Nikita glanced at Michael's calm face, then looked down at her hands. "Will he be canceled?" She dreaded the answer.

"I doubt it", Madeline replied in a business-like tone. "Actually, we were expecting this to happen, given his history. We brought him back here for the express purpose of flushing this out. I believe he has enough potential value to outweigh this 'indulgence' of his personal feelings." She stood then and nodded to Michael.

Nikita felt his hand on her shoulder and looked up into his face, surprised to find an expression of understanding there. He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Let's go get some coffee."

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

In the dim light the wine sparkled and glimmered as it flowed from the bottle into the large, stemmed glass in Nikita's hand. She regarded it in fascination for a moment before wandering out of the kitchen in the direction of the balcony. She studied her own reflection in the window glass and she realized she'd had too much wine; she recognized the self-pitying mood that was fast approaching.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her grape induced self-analysis. She threw back her head and laughed out loud. "Of course. Perfect." She weaved her way to the door and threw it open without looking through the peephole. "Come in Michael", she said cheerily. "Have some wine." She turned and peered into the kitchen. "If there's any left'"

Michael closed the door softly, then stood watching Nikita as she aimed the neck of the wine bottle carefully at an empty glass, managing somehow to pour without spilling.

Nikita handed him the glass with a wide smile. "So, Michael, what could it possibly be that brings you here this evening? A briefing in 10 minutes? Looking for hidden boyfriends the Section wants to threaten?"

She looked at him coyly, then winked, pretending an expression of great surprise. "I know!" She walked over to him and draped her arm around his neck, bringing her lips within an inch of his and whispering softly. "Section thinks I'm about to run off and they've sent *you* to seduce me again." She smiled then at her own wit.

Michael put his wine down on the counter next to him and closed his arms around Nikita's waist, pulling her into close contact with his body. "Could I?" He looked into her eyes. His hands gently stroked her back and his voice was like silk. "Should I?"

Made defiant by the wine and her own dangerous mood, Nikita decided to push back. Placing her wine glass next to his on the counter, she looked Michael in the eyes and worked her hands inside his jacket and around behind. She let her eyes stray deliberately then to his mouth as she smoothed her hands slowly down his back and closed them caressingly on his rear. Their lips were all but touching as she whispered to him. "You could."

"Nikita'.about your conversation with O'Brien..." He did not pull back or raise his voice. Undaunted by the change of subject, Nikita pulled up Michael's shirt and spread both her hands wide on the warm smoothness of his back. "I'm glad you told Madeline about his vigilante scheme. It would have been bad for you otherwise."

"Ah, Michael, always trying to save me," Nikita whispered this into his ear before closing her teeth on his earlobe and tugging gently. His hands tightened around her back. "Why, oh why?", she continued mockingly.

He moved her back from him enough to allow them to focus on each other. "You really don't know?" he whispered intensely.

"I really don't know", she responded, mimicking his tone playfully.

He cupped her chin in his hand then and pulled her lips to his in a slow and eloquent kiss. Several minutes later his voice was low and soft as he spoke. "O'Brien was right about one thing. You *do* belong to me." His eyes moved over her face caressingly. "Part of you I created when you came to the Section. The rest you have given to me yourself." He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip, then set her away from him with bitter regret in his eyes. "I only wish I knew what to do with it", he finished.

Nikita looked back at his solemn face and wondered for only a moment if this was just another game. A gentle smile came to her own face then and she reached over to put his wine glass into his hand. Picking up her own glass she linked their free hands and pulled him up the stairway. "Even Operations knows we're a good team, Michael", she whispered, turning into his arms at the doorway of the room above. "We'll figure it out."

*****

FINI

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