The wildly tossing branches reached out to entangle her as she struggled up the steep path to the brink of the precipice. Her senses were numbed by the roiling darkness around her, the world reduced to the broken path under her feet and the incessent buffeting of the wind in her ears.

At last she reached the top and stood looking down, swaying a little in the wind, the whips of her hair stinging her cheeks and obscuring her vision. Below her, the base of the cliff was a seething cauldron. Wind-whipped waves dashed themselves furiously onto the jagged rocks, retreating afterward and leaving their foamy trails curling behind. The rocks were shiny, black and beckoning, their siren song promising sweet oblivion in exchange for only a moment's agony.

Suddenly Michael was there. "No!" he shouted, then calmed his voice, afraid he might startle her. "Please." His hand was extended toward her in entreaty.

She turned to face him, shaking her head. "I can't do this any more," she said, a sob in her voice. "You don't understand…No one cares…" She glanced back over her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she said to Michael, anguish and regret clear on her face.

Abruptly she took one step backward and Michael leaped forward to hold her, covering the distance between them in only a heartbeat. His hands closed on empty air. She was gone.

He fell to his knees and let his head drop back, screaming his agony to the uncaring heavens above. Nikita burst through the trees behind him, gasping for breath. "Is she…? Oh, no, Michael…."

He beat at the ground with his closed fists. "Enjoue`…Enjoue`…" he said brokenly, over and over. "She let me be a nice guy." His voice broke in sorrow. "She let you rescue me for a change…"

Nikita knelt beside him, hugging him close for comfort and beginning to cry herself. "Now we'll never get to sleep together," she sobbed. "The LFN writers never let us fool around in the shower or have two days off in Ireland…." She could not go on.

Suddenly Walter and Birkoff arrived beside them, also breathing heavily from the climb.

"She's gone, Walter," Nikita cried in anguish.

"She jumped," Michael added. "It's my fault, I couldn't reach her in time." He began to sob afresh with guilt.

Walter patted Michael's head awkwardly. "There, now, don't carry on like that. She'll be OK."

"What are you talking about?" Nikita exclaimed. "She's drowned by now!"

"No, no.." Walter said, his words whipped away quickly by the wind. "She let me go out in the field with you guys in The Price. Do you think I'd take a chance that anything would happen to her? The LFN writers NEVER let me out of the place!"

Michael looked up, hope dawning in his face. "What do you mean, Walter?"

"Well," Walter said, a sheepish look coming over his features. "I installed a flotation device into her…um…brassiere." He grinned. "She won't be drowning today."

Birkoff chimed in then. "And I've been keeping a backup team on standby. I notified them when I heard from you, Michael. They're probably already picking her up below in the Zodiac." He looked proud of himself. "She never did much for me, but I'm hoping that when she sees what I did to rescue her she'll write something where *I* get to be the hero for a change." He gave Michael a dark look.

At this Operations and Madeline came panting up the slope, looking wildly unkempt in the howling wind. "She jumped?" Operations barked at them.

Birkoff answered quickly. "Yes, sir, but…"

Operations cut him off with a gesture and shook his finger in Michael's face. "You're responsible for this! You weren't prepared! If she dies I'll cancel you myself and buy Madeline a new rug!" He peeked over the cliff in trepidation before facing them all again. "She actually had people starting to like me." He crossed his arms petulantly. "And she let Madeline kiss me on the cheek. I was really hoping for a little more. Why would she do this?!"

Madeline stepped to his side and touched his arm soothingly. "She's a writer." Madeline smiled her best enigmatic, Mona Lisa smile. "She's insecure. Only five people left her comments on her last story." She shrugged. "She was afraid that they were getting tired of her, or that she was monopolizing the story board. Or even….that she'd written herself out and the stories just weren't interesting any more." Madeline sighed. "It will take quite a bit of re-training to get her back in shape, I'm afraid."

"Make it a priority," Operations snapped, then gave her a private wink. "I'm not half done with you yet."

Still sniffling a little, the small group made their way back down the steep hill, each hoping for his or her own reason that Enjoue` would live to write another day……

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