This story is set during the events of the Season Two episode "Off Profile" and contains massive spoilers for that episode. All the characters of La Femme Nikita (and the words they speak that were not written by myself) remain the property of WB, USA and Fireworks Entertainment.

This story is told in both Michael and Nikita's voices

"A Woman Scorned"

'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'

"This is Andrea Karsov. She was transferred to Section Two from our Bejing sub-station nine weeks ago. Ever since Andrea's promotion to Level Three, Section Two lost four key operatives on seemingly low-risk missions."

"To all intents and purposes, the missions were perfectly profiled. No hint of incompetence, with one exception. Each of the operatives who died on a mission profiled by Karsov had, at one point or another, been involved in an altercation with her."

Operations pauses, exchanging a pointed look with Madeline before continuing. "Andrea will be joining us tomorrow for an indefinite period."

I study the head and shoulders shot on Operations' wall screen. She's not unattractive, although the brightly dyed red hair clashes with her pale skin. Andrea Karsov is small-boned and petite, like Simone. And Elena.

"Is she in abeyance?"

"No. Section Two has not been able to prove that the anomalies were deliberate, and our counterparts in Bejing have been less than cooperative." He smiles at me cynically. "Their official stance is that she was one of their best profilers, and they were sorry to lose her."

"Are we to evaluate her?"

"Not quite. If Section Two is mistaken and the deaths were accidental, then we will work with Karsov in order to eradicate any further errors on her part. However, if the intel proves to be correct...." He breaks off, not bothering to point out the obvious. If the intel from Section Two is correct, Andrea Karsov will be cancelled.

"The problem is that we are still waiting for Systems at Two to fully analyse the mission tapes for all anomalies. We need to push her to her emotional breaking point in such a way that Section One won't be compromised should the accusations against her prove to be unfounded.

Operations studies the face of the woman on the screen carefully. "Her profile shows a cool and analytical mind, not given to outbursts of emotion. Any show of emotion, to be more accurate. But we have found a weakness."

And how does this involve me? This private meeting is being held in Operations' office, rather than the briefing room. It's three o'clock in the morning, and Section is almost deserted.

I suppress a yawn, trying not to think of Elena's unhappy reaction a few hours ago when my mobile rang. Adam has his first judo lesson tomorrow. Today, I correct myself, thinking of the time. Elena was more than a little upset that my demanding new client in Madrid had called an urgent board meeting to discuss his account. Adam will have to discover this new experience without his father...again.

I sigh silently as Operations reaches for the remote control once more.

"Eighteen months ago, Karsov was in a relationship with this man, Joseph Lee." An image of a good-looking Eurasian man flickers into life. "Lee was a Level Five operative in Bejing, specialising in profiling. It was only after the Asian Sector sustained one too many losses that Lee was investigated and found to be an agent for Red Cell."

Operations flicks the remote and the glowing display vanishes, darkening the room slightly.

"Madeline?" Operations invites her to speak. Madeline turns to face me, her dark eyes unreadable as she continues the briefing.

"Needless to say, Andrea Karsov was not pleased by this revelation. She had been intimate with him for six months, and he had fooled her completely. Our intel suggests that Lee was her first serious relationship inside Section. Karsov was furious for two reasons. Not only had Lee attempted to implicate her, claiming that she was also an informant for Red Cell, but at their last meeting before he was cancelled Lee calmly informed Karsov that although the sex had been quite pleasant, she had never meant anything to him."

It suddenly becomes quite clear to me what direction this briefing is taking.

Operations clears his throat. "Madeline has run this scenario through many times. Andrea Karsov may be emotionally unstable to the point of being pathological, but she is also a brilliant profiler capable of covering up any trace of off-profile activity. Dredging up suppressed anger regarding her rejection by Lee should be enough to open up old wounds and force her emotional hand."

Madeline smiles at me pleasantly. "It's a valentine mission, Michael. Nothing more. Nothing less. I understand that we haven't had to use your...skills in this area for quite some time, but I assume that this will pose no problems for you?"

"No."

She tilts her head slightly, studying me.

"I also hope that there will be no problems with any members of your team regarding this scenario?" It's a challenge, rather than a question. I meet her gaze calmly. We both know what she is inferring.

Nikita.

I give Madeline a wry smile. "I'm sure there won't be." I walk slowly away, my heart sinking.

I'm sure there will be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Medlab technicians rush past us, Simpson lying pale and still on their gurney, the white undersheet rapidly turning bright red. Roberts and Morton trail slowly in their wake. Roberts is limping badly, but he'll live...which is more than I can say for Simpson.

Nikita and I walk through van access, exhausted and more than a little shaken, only to be greeted by Operations at the door, his face as grim as I've ever seen it.

"Why did you abort?"

I take a deep breath. I have just fended off several invasive questions from Nikita during our return. She's no fool. She might not realize that Operations and I deliberately skewed the profile five minutes before the mission sequence commenced, but she knows that something is not right. My terse non-committal replies finally silenced her, but I felt the weight of her stare all the way back to Section.

"We had to. We went critical ten minutes into the Mission."

He glares at me. "We lost Korda. We'll have to start from scratch."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my real target walking down the long corridor towards us. I look at Operations, my words a deliberate accusation.

"Deployment was off by a factor of two. The Mission Profile was faulty."

A feminine yet strident retort rings out in the quiet hallway.

"No."

Direct hit, I think as I turn to catch my first glimpse of Andrea Karsov in the flesh.

She's smaller than I thought she would be, her head only just reaching Nikita's shoulder.

And she is attractive. A strange mix of the exotic and the plain. Her hair is dyed a fiery red, but she wears hardly any makeup, no jewellery. She is dressed in black from head to toe, but that is not unusual in Section. You learn after a while that blood doesn't show as much on black clothes.

She ignores Nikita and Operations, focusing solely on me. "There was nothing wrong with the Profile."

I turn to Operations, hoping that I will manage to convey just the right tone of quiet outrage. "Who is this?"

"Andrea Karsov. A new Mission Profiler." I swear the man is fighting the urge to smile, damn him. It's bad enough, having to do this ridiculous play-acting in front of Nikita and Birkoff. Now Operations almost looks as though he wants to wink at me. Our little private joke.

Andrea looks me up and down before meeting my angry stare quite calmly. "The flaw was in your execution."

Operations flings a terse order over his shoulder as he walks away. "Check the tapes, get this settled. You'll be going out again soon."

~*~*~*~*~*~

I watch Michael as he follows the new mission profiler through to Systems. Normally, I love finding a new female to work with in Section. A girl gets a bit tired of all the testosterone posturing that goes on around here. But...okay, I'll admit it. I met Andrea all of ten seconds ago, and I've already decided that I won't be adding her to my Christmas card list. I study her, struggling to keep my inner bitch at bay, but it's not a battle I fight very hard.

What is with the hair? Bright red and very spiky. It would be okay if she was planning to single-handedly bring back the punk movement, but she seems to have forgotten the makeup that goes with it. Listen to yourself...you sound like an old nana.

Andrea is still insisting that the profile was not at fault. "Look at Sector Five."

I try to concentrate on what Birkoff is showing me on his computer, but I can't. I can't keep my eyes away from the other workstation, where Michael and Andrea are going over the tapes from our disastrous mission.

Andrea points out something on the screen to Michael. "They didn't penetrate as the plan required."

Michael replies almost disdainfully. "They couldn't. The perimeter was unsecured." Your fault, is his unspoken meaning.

Andrea refuses to back down and shifts her body closer to his, almost as though she is trying to intimidate him. Hmm. Good luck. "For less than thirty seconds."

Michael throws Andrea a quick glance, clearly unimpressed by her statement. "That's unacceptable."

I glance quickly down at Birkoff, feeling guilty about not paying attention to his figures. But I shouldn't have worried. He's raptly watching Michael and Andrea as well. We're a spellbound audience of two.

"We'd have captured the target."

"No. The window was too narrow."

Well, well, well. Call me a bitch, but I don't like her. I shake my head, wondering at my almost violent reaction to Andrea. Watching them argue, I can literally see the sparks flying between them.

Sparks flying. My mind latches stubbornly onto that one thought as I watch Michael and Andrea glare at each other. It slaps me in the face then, the realization of why my chest suddenly feels tight, why my stomach is flip-flopping.

I felt it, that zing in the air when she and Michael stared at each other. I have never seen him like this with anyone. I look down at Birkoff's computer quickly, trying to distract myself from my next thought. Wrong...he's been like this with me. Why is she getting to him so much?

Andrea's insistent voice breaks into my confused thoughts. "The window was wide enough for two units to make an entry."

I don't think I want to watch this any more. I'm just opening my mouth to ask Birkoff if we could do this later when Operations returns and swiftly takes in the little scene before him. Given that the village idiot would pick up on the tension in the room, it only takes one look at the arguing couple to realize that nothing has been worked out.

"Hasn't this been resolved yet?" I do feel a bit sorry for Michael, but I can't help but feel glad that for once I'm not the one being yelled at by Operations.

I can almost see Michael gritting his teeth from here. "Not yet."

Operations looks at Michael then at Andrea, displeasure creasing his brow. "Deal with it later. Right now, we need a new mission design."

Michael turns his back on Andrea and stares at Operations.

"I want a different Profiler. ... She doesn't have any field experience. Her designs are too theoretical."

I've never seen Michael dismiss someone so quickly, so thoroughly. Almost as though it was personal. He's being so antagonistic towards Andrea and he's only just met her. It's not like him to be so rude to a woman.

Well, I don't like her but she's got guts, I think as I watch Andrea stare down both Operations and Michael at the same time.

"My designs are correct."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Operations looks first at Andrea then at me, his pale eyes glittering as he realizes that Andrea herself has just handed us the perfect opportunity to see how she reacts under fire.

He almost seems to be musing to himself. "Field experience might be useful."

As though he has come to a snap decision, he turns to me. "Michael, she's on your team for the next mission. Make the necessary arrangements."

Andrea is easy to read. Supremely confident in her own abilities with a well-defined sense of self-worth. It should be easy enough to provoke her into wanting to prove herself.

"We can't protect her out there."

It is easy. Andrea immediately takes up my unspoken challenge. "I can take care of myself. "

She's got courage, I'll give her that. And a strong belief in herself. Good. She'll need it by the time Section has finished with her. I wince to myself. By the time I have finished with her.

Operations gives us both a hard stare before turning on his heel and walking away. I watch him as he leaves. His part in this profile is over for the moment. I let my gaze drift over to Andrea once more, an intense look that she holds for only a few seconds before she looks away.

Mine is just beginning.

~*~*~*~*~

Operations' face is bathed in the pale green light of the holographic screen. "Six weeks ago these genetic codes were stolen from a lab in Zurich. These codes could be used to manufacture designer viruses."

I study the screen, trying to make sense of the complicated intel. Great. Another psycho with a world domination complex. Andrea's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Designer viruses?" Well, I'm glad someone asked. I just didn't want it to have to be me, as usual.

"Plagues genetically programmed to attack specific ethnic groups."

Operations flicks a button on his remote and the screen is suddenly filled with the face of our target. He looks more like a bank manager than a crazed terrorist, but hey...you can't judge the psycho by his cover any more.

"This is Hans Korda. A geneticist connected with the group who stole these codes. The aborted mission," he pauses for effect, "not only failed to capture him, it exposed our intentions."

I glance at Michael just in time to see him looking at Andrea, an intense stare that she is returning. Suddenly uncomfortable, I look away.

"You leave in two hours." Operations turns to speak directly to Andrea and Michael and I linger in the background. I don't know why. I watch as Operations leans forward, the reprimand in his voice more than clear. "No mistakes this time." Operations glares at them. "In design or execution." His face hardens. "Bring...back... Korda."

He stalks off and Andrea and Michael slowly get to their feet in silence, still exchanging those intense glances. Feeling strangely ill at ease in their presence, I turn and walk away.

~*~*~*~*~

"What's up, Sugar?"

I glance up at Walter, then down at the backpack that I've just slammed down onto his workbench.

I smile at him in apology. "Sorry. Bit of a bad day."

Walter gives me an inquisitive look. "Don't tell me. Michael?"

"Isn't it always?" We smile at each other, knowing that I'm only joking. Well, almost joking. "It's nothing. It's everything." I flash Walter a sheepish grin. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I hear he got off on the wrong foot with the new profiler."

"News travels fast around here." I reply sourly.

Walter sidles up a bit closer to me, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "She's a pretty lady...but a bit icy, you know what I'm saying?"

Oh yeah...I know exactly what you're saying.

He hands me my comm. equipment, talking all the while. "She's okay, I guess...but she doesn't like to talk about anything that's not about Section. One hundred percent business, all the way." He gives me a mock leer. "Not like you, Sugar."

I look down, watching my fingers trace an invisible pattern on the top of Walter's workstation. "Have you talked to her?"

Walter starts to walk towards the ammunition storage area but turns around at my question. "Earlier, when she filed her weapon requisition form."

"She's never been out in the field before. What if something happens to her out there? Tracking down Korda when he knows we're after him is going to be hard enough without having to baby-sit some..."

Walter's eyes widen slightly as he looks over my shoulder and he clears his throat, suddenly very interested in a GPS unit lying on top of his workbench. I swallow the words I was about to say and turn my head slowly, somehow already knowing who is standing there.

Andrea's stare travels slowly from Walter to me, the only indication that she's overhead my tirade is a spot of colour high on each cheekbone. Walter mumbles something about getting our weapons and disappears into the depths of his storage shelves. I watch him enviously, wishing I could drop through a hole in the ground.

I wrack my brain for something to say that might dispel the sudden air of awkward tension in the room, but I'm drawing a blank. I settle for what could be taken as an apologetic smile and hand Andrea her comm. equipment.

Unsmiling, she takes the two digital patches from my hand and turns her back to me. Fine. Be like that. I shake my head at my own thoughts, annoyed that I seem to be reverting to sulky teenage mode whenever this woman is around. I'm not usually like this with other females.

Twisting my body slightly, I reach one hand around to stick the body patch to the correct spot on my back, just under the shoulder blade. I smile slightly as I finish up, thinking of how Walter likes to pretend that I can't quite manage to do this by myself, that I always need a helping pair of hands. He never misses an opportunity.

I glance across at Andrea, and realize that Walter is missing an opportunity now. Andrea is trying to put the body patch on her back, but she can't quite get the hang of it. I hesitate. I'm not quite sure she will want any help from me. But...as far as I can tell, the only other pair of hands is still hiding out in his weapons storage shelves.

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to Andrea and take the patch out of her hand. Our eyes meet, but there's no animosity in her dark stare, only indifference. I move behind her and fix the patch in the right place. Just as I'm finishing Walter strolls back in, as though he was just waiting for the right moment. I resist the urge to give him the evil eye and turn my attention back to Andrea, making sure that the patch is secure. As I move away she looks up at me again.

"Thank you."

I give her a small 'think nothing of it' smile, trying not to think of the harsh words she must have heard me saying to Walter. I look up quickly as Walter puts Andrea's choice of gun on the bench in front of her, grateful for the distraction. He frowns as he looks at her and seems to hesitate, as though he's not sure how to put what he wants to say.

"Most field ops prefer to use a lighter weapon."

Andrea only smiles briefly at him and starts to examine her gun, checking the chamber and testing its fit in the holster strapped to her thigh.

"I trained with this." It's clear that she isn't going to consider Walter's opinion, but he gives it one more try.

"Shooting at people isn't the same as shooting at holograms.

Andrea stares at Walter coolly. "Why is that?"

Walter hesitates. I think Andrea's snooty manner towards him has caught him off guard. He's not used to pretty ladies speaking to him this way. I try to bite my tongue but I can't.

"Umm, people shoot back?" God, I sound like such a bitch, but I can't help it. There's something about this woman that is bringing out the worst in me.

"Not if they're dead." She flips me a calm look before walking off.

Ouch. I look at Walter, who only rolls his eyes at me.

"I guess she told us, Sugar." We both turn and watch Andrea as she walks away

~*~*~*~*~

I stretch my legs out in front of me and mentally review the last four hours. The mission went smoothly and without incident. The underlying tension during the entire operation is another matter. Adjusting to a new operative on the team can be difficult, but team members can usually sort out any differences given enough time. But as I sit in the transport on the return journey to Section, watching Nikita watch Andrea, I am reminded that some differences can never be 'worked out', no matter how long you wait.

I don't flatter myself that I can read Nikita perfectly, but I do know how to read her eyes. She doesn't like Andrea and she doesn't like the fact that Andrea is on our team. I also know Nikita well enough to realize that she is uncomfortable about the way that she is feeling. Nikita likes to like people and she usually bonds quickly with other female operatives.

Andrea seems oblivious of Nikita's barely concealed animosity towards her. To be brutally honest given Andrea's psyche profile, if she did notice, she wouldn't care. Nikita's thoughts or emotions would be of no interest whatsoever.

I don't think that Nikita quite knows why she dislikes Andrea, but I don't think that I'm about to help matters.

Finally, we arrive back at Section. I let Andrea proceed me into van access, leaving Nikita to bring Korda through on her own. Although I am trying to detain Andrea long enough to invite her to dinner, I can't quite relax until Nikita has brought Korda into the relative security of van access. Leaving her to deal with the hostile alone, even though he is heavily restrained, is not something I am in the habit of doing.

Andrea walks quickly through van access and I know I need to make a connection with her now before she leaves Section for the evening.

"Good work."

"It was a simple enough mission." She tries to brush my remark aside, but she is quietly pleased at the compliment.

"First time under fire is never simple." The irony of my words is not lost on me. According to her psyche profile, Andrea has never had to shoot another human being. And yet she has just killed two men with a calm and deadly accuracy that most field operatives take years to display.

I turn around just as Briggs and Gibson arrive, intent on taking Korda off our hands. Nikita is standing just outside the van access door still gripping the captive's arm tightly. She looks at me, waiting.

"Prepare him for interrogation." I let my gaze sweep vaguely over them all, careful not to meet Nikita's eyes. I'm too distracted by her presence as it is. I don't particularly want to see her reaction to what I'm about to say to Andrea.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Nikita nod to me as she surrenders Korda to the other operatives' keeping. To my consternation, she doesn't move away with them, but stays where she is, obviously waiting for me to join her.

Damn. I swear softly to myself. I didn't want to have to do this in front of Nikita but I have no choice. I don't want to hurt her. I catch myself. Why do I automatically assume that this will hurt her? She cares deeply for me, that much I know. Her actions after the Perez mission only served to reinforce my belief that she can no more suppress her feelings for me than I can deny mine for her.

With these unsettling thoughts whirling through my mind, I turn my back on Nikita, forcing myself to ignore the look of confusion that clouds her face. Walking away from her, I reluctantly accept the disturbing reality. I am going to have to block Nikita out of my thoughts completely in order to make this seduction of Andrea convincing.

Having Nikita for an audience isn't going to help, not when I'm already feeling so ambivalent about this particular valentine mission. As yet, the allegations against Andrea are still unproven. If Operations is mistaken and she is innocent...

Three long strides are enough to bring me close enough to Andrea for her to hear my question.

"Would you like to join me for dinner?"

Andrea stops, but doesn't turn around. Her reply is quietly uncompromising. "Mmm. No, thank you." Almost as an afterthought, she continues. "I don't go out much."

Standing beside her I notice again how tiny she is. She is wearing high-heeled boots and she still only reaches my shoulder. I try again, unhappily aware of Nikita's stare almost scorching the skin on the back of my neck.

"With anyone?" I take a half step closer to her and she turns her head slightly towards me. "Or only operatives?"

"With anyone." She tilts her head back finally to look me in the eye. "Especially Section operatives." Given her relationship with Joseph Lee and its disastrous consequences, her emphatic statement is hardly a surprise.

Recognising the need to erase any lingering resentment that she might be feeling towards me, I make my tone soft and apologetic. "We got off on the wrong foot. It was partly my fault." A slight understatement. I let my eyes travel over her face, studying her reaction to my words. "I'd like to make amends."

Wariness still flashes at the back of her eyes, but her face softens slightly. "It was nobody's fault." It's obviously a reluctant admission on her part, but an admission nevertheless. "No amends necessary."

I speak softly, wanting to create an air of intimacy between Andrea and myself and also to keep Nikita from hearing our conversation. "No amends then. Just pleasure."

Andrea's mouth tightens somewhat at my audacity and she starts to walk away "Forget dinner, Michael. It's not going to happen."

"Okay." I nod slightly, appearing to accept her refusal graciously, but move quickly around to her other side, effectively blocking her path. Operations' words to me earlier this morning are ringing in my ears.

"Do it now, Michael. Oversight are pushing me on this one. They want the matter cleared up in seventy-two hours."

"How about a cup of coffee? I'd like to know you better." The words give me pause. According to her profile, Andrea has never been on a live mission, never had to take a life. And yet she has just killed two men without blinking. I'm not sure that I want to get to know Andrea any better, but that decision is not mine to make.

Andrea sighs as she realizes that I am not going to take "no" for an answer. She looks at me and I study her face, intrigued despite myself by the inner struggle I can see in her eyes. After a short silence, she nods quickly. I touch her elbow lightly with my hand and we start to walk towards the ground level exit. I have no concerns about missing the debrief. Operations is not expecting either of us.

~*~*~*~*~

Would you like to join me for dinner? Such a simple little sentence, eight little words. So why am I standing here feeling as though I've just had the wind knocked out of me?

Korda is long gone, having been escorted to containment by Briggs and Gibson. I stand alone in the corridor watching Michael and Andrea walk away, a dull ache of regret in my stomach as I watch Michael talk to her animatedly. Animated? Michael?

I have never seen him talk like this with anyone. I swallow hard, my mouth and throat suddenly dry as an insidious little voice taunts me. He's never been like that with you.

I narrow my eyes at them as they walk away, the thought lingering in my mind. He's never been like this with anyone. Even what Michael was saying to Andrea, his words...he was like a totally different person. And he did it right in front of you. I raise my eyebrows at Michael and Andrea's receding backs, my lip curling in my best Billy Idol sneer. Whatever.

~*~*~*~*~

Chirrup. Chirrup. I frown and burrow deeper into the bedclothes but I can still hear the ringing of the phone, even with the pillow over my head. Muttering several unmentionable words under my breath, I pull the pillow off and reluctantly open my eyes.

Chirrup. Chirrup. Snaking out an arm from underneath the covers, I fumble for the receiver, grateful at least that I put it on my bedside table last night.

"Yep?" I don't bother being polite at four o'clock in the morning any more.

An unfamiliar voice intones the very familiar greeting. "Josephine."

No Michael. I let out my breath in a frustrated hiss and hang up, not bothering to say anything. Not wanting to think about why Michael didn't call me in, I throw back the covers and stomp into the bathroom. This is not a good start to the day, and I have an achy sinking feeling that it's not going to get any better.

I strip off the long t-shirt that I slept in and throw it onto the bathroom floor. Climbing into the shower, I slam the shower screen shut irritably, wincing at its loud clank of protest. I think I'm getting a headache, and I'm pretty sure I know why.

What a pity I don't work somewhere that lets a girl call in sick.

~*~*~*~*~

Birkoff is already at his workstation when I arrive at Comm via the long way, having studiously avoided walking past Michael's office. Relieved to see a friendly face, I stroll over to his desk.

"Morning Birkoff."

He's staring at his monitor with unusual intensity, but manages to flip me a reply. "Hi."

"You're here early." I plonk myself down on the top of his desk, ignoring the pained expression that flits across his face.

"The Bahrain situation is heating up." He rummages though several piles of god-knows-what on his desk. "Your mission is too."

Just as well. Nothing I like more than getting up at four o'clock in the morning just to come in to Section and do nothing. Thinking of last night's mission, a question pops into my head.

"Did Madeline interrogate Korda?"

"She's doing it now. He won't put up much of a fight. Most of these scientists are pretty lame."

He finally tears himself away from what he's working on and gives me a cheeky grin.

"I'm an exception."

I return his smile, very happy to see that not everyone has turned into a pod person while my back was turned. I see a blur of bright red hair out of the corner of my eye and turn my head. Speaking of which...

"Have you seen Michael this morning? "

Birkoff looks back down at his computer and suddenly seems very busy. "Yeah, he came in."

There's an awkward pause. He doesn't volunteer any other information, and I don't really want to ask, but...

"Alone?"

I hate myself. I can't believe I'm asking Birkoff, of all people, if he knows whether Michael got lucky last night.

Birkoff just keeps working, but I can see a deep flush of colour travelling up his neck.

"I didn't really notice. "

I drop the subject. I'm only making myself crazy, thinking about Michael and Andrea. As though he can hear my thoughts, Birkoff suddenly looks up at me and brings the subject right back up again.

"What do you think of the new profiler?"

"Andrea?" The truth? I want to scratch her eyes out. I look at Birkoff. I don't think he's up to hearing that little tidbit right now.

"I don't know." I push down the hard little knot of jealousy in my chest, trying to stay objective. It's a lot harder to do than I thought it would be. "A little arrogant, maybe."

"Yeah. Profilers think they know it all." He sighs. "Sometimes they do."

"Does she?"

"Too early to tell. She just transferred in from the Asian Sector."

I try to act as though I couldn't care less. "What's her reputation?"

"Asia thinks she walks on water. Totally dedicated to Section."

"The perfect operative." I say flatly.

"That's what they say. Nothing gets to her. Nothing and nobody."

It hits me then, like a slap in the face. She sounds just like Michael...a perfect match. Not wanting Birkoff to see the agitation that I just know is plastered all over my face, I hop off his desk and give him a quick nod. I start to walk away, but then swivel around as an idea occurs to me.

"When do you need me?"

He looks up, distracted. "In about an hour."

Good. If I hurry, I can get in at least forty-five minutes of throwing people a lot bigger than me over my shoulder, which should work wonders for my mood. I turn on my heel and head for the dojo.

~*~*~*~*~

Shutting down my computer, I sit and stare at the dark screen for a moment before rubbing my tired eyes. Operating on four hours sleep a night never used to be a problem, but my inner clock seems to have been disrupted this month by a combination of Adam starting to sleepwalk, early morning briefings and late night seductions.

Seductions? I grimace to myself as I think of how little progress I seemed to make with Andrea last night. We went to a new coffee shop three blocks from Section. At first, Andrea suggested an espresso bar closer to Section, but I demurred. The only person I had ever been there with was Nikita and I suddenly felt as though I would be betraying her in some small way if I took Andrea there. Impatient with myself for such inappropriate thoughts, I suggested the other. After an hour or so of caffeine and polite chatter, Andrea had become more open, softer somehow. I hedged my bets and repeated my dinner invitation. She looked at me for a long moment before giving me a resigned smile of acceptance.

We left the coffee shop and caught a taxi to a Thai restaurant along the river. I let her direct the conversation along the lines she was comfortable. As a result, we spoke of various missions that were coming up and I heard a great deal about her time in Bejing. When she asked about my life before Section, I smiled and gave her the usual tale, an edited life story that bears very little resemblance to the truth. I was strangely relieved that she didn't mention Section Two or Nikita but found it odd at the same time.

Andrea refused both dessert and more coffee, saying that she needed to be in Section very early the next morning. I acquiesced immediately, not trying to persuade her otherwise. She seemed slightly surprised, but hid her reaction very well. I walked her to a taxi, kissing her lightly on both cheeks before opening the door for her. She pulled her coat tighter around her body as she gave me an appraising look. Good night Michael, was all she said.

Standing now at the window of my office, I gaze out into Section, thinking of the next step. I know that Andrea has arrived in Section. I sigh softly. So has Nikita, for that matter. Both women seem to be avoiding me. Hardly a satisfactory result for a Valentine Op.

I leave the office and make my way towards Comm, unable to stop my eyes from searching for Nikita's distinctive flash of blonde hair. Satisfied that she is nowhere to be seen, I go straight to Andrea's desk.

"Good morning."

She doesn't look up.

"Hi."

It appears that we are back to square one again. Merde. Recognising my own emotional defenses in this woman, I stroll around the front of her desk, making it harder for her to pretend that I'm not here.

"I had a great time last night."

Andrea keeps punching in figures on her keyboard and replies without looking up.

"You talked me into coffee, then you managed to talk me into dinner." There is an air of grudging acceptance in her voice, but then it hardens slightly. "But that's as far as it goes."

"Why?"

She finally raises her head and looks at me.

"Because I like it here."

Almost as if her statement embarrasses her, she drops her gaze back down to the monitor.

"Most people hate Section, or pretend to." She keys in more figures, frowning at the monitor briefly. "But I like it."

Hoping I won't choke on my own words, I hasten to agree with her. "So do I." I press on, lowering my voice slightly. "It doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves."

Andrea looks at me again, the seductive overtones of my words finally filtering through a mind totally focused on its work.

"Section isn't exactly about enjoyment. The cyberware, the weapons, the missions. Those are real." She flicks her gaze up at me. "Everything else is an illusion. People who forget that don't last long."

Despite my dislike of this situation, I can't help feeling a grudging admiration for her. Her view of Section is not unlike my own used to be before...I try to clamp down on the direction that my thoughts are taking but it's too late. Before Nikita came to Section.

"Everything is as real as we make it. No more, no less. It's up to us."

The echoes of the past continue to ring in my head, the memory of another woman who believed my lies taunt me, making my words to Andrea seem even more hollow than they already feel.

Let's not fight what's between us...let's take what we can get.

I force my mind back to Andrea, feeling almost persecuted. Damn you, Nikita. Must you infiltrate every thought in my head, every feeling in my heart?

An unexpected surge of unfocused anger shoots through me and I have to force myself to concentrate on the woman in front of me. But resentment simmers dangerously and the sudden urge to finish this conversation wins out over Section duty.

"If you change your mind, let me know."

I wait until I see the almost reluctant flicker of interest dance across Andrea's face and then quickly walk away. Mentally rearranging my schedule, I make my way to the dojo. I have the sudden need to hit something very hard.

~*~*~*~*~

There is no privacy in this place, I fume as I lean against the tiled wall in the shower stall. First I almost slam headlong into Michael when I was finishing up at the dojo and now this. I thought I had the place to myself, but the chattering of female voices has now invaded my thoughts. My skin prickles cold then hot again as I recognize the voices. Wouldn't you just know it?

"So...Andrea." It's Delia, a Level Two cold op that I just can't stand, for two very different reasons. She almost always manages to accidentally kill a couple of innocents on every mission, and she has a very annoying habit of flirting with Michael. "I hear you had a date with the Ice King last night?"

There is a slight silence before I hear Andrea's reply. "We went for coffee. It was not a date."

The other woman laughs.

"Well, that's probably just well."

"What do you mean?" For all her insistence that it was not a date, Andrea certainly seems put out by Delia's remark.

"You haven't been here long, have you?" Delia sighs dramatically. "Have you met Nikita yet? Tall? Blonde? Looks like a supermodel, only with brains?"

"I've met her. What about her?" She couldn't sound less interested in me if she tried.

"She and Michael...." Delia trails off, baiting Andrea rather obviously.

She doesn't have to wait very long for Andrea to "bite".

"What about her and Michael?" Andrea sounds more than a little annoyed and I can't help smiling. Take that, Miss Perfect Operative.

Delia is only too happy to fill her in. "She and Michael have a...history, shall we say? The story is that there's been something going on between them ever since she came to Section."

There's a short silence, broken only by the sound of running water in the hand basins. I stand perfectly still beneath the stream of warm water, almost holding my breath as I wait for Andrea's reply. The realization that Michael and I are such a hot topic of conversation almost overshadows the thought that Michael took Andrea out on a date.

"Are they together now?" Andrea's voice is so calm, so emotionless. If I were Andrea, I'd be pretty ticked off at this little titbit of gossip. Maybe she doesn't give two hoots about Michael after all.

"Well...I couldn't say." Delia sounds quite put out that she doesn't know. "Things seem to have been slightly tense between them lately, but I still wouldn't want to get caught in between the two of them when they're looking at each other. Third degree burns, you know what I mean?"

I have to swallow a snort of outrage at this. Third degree burns, my ass! The way he looked at me when I literally ran into him near the dojo was cool enough to freeze a polar bear's behind.

The tap at the hand basin is turned off abruptly.

"Thank you for the advice, but as I told you...it wasn't really a date." Andrea sounds so casual. I almost believe her until her next words totally ruin the effect. "But as far as I can see, there's nothing between them. He practically ignores her."

"We-eell..." Delia sounds reluctant to relinquish her control over the conversation. "I guess so. I haven't seen him really talk to her since you arrived in Section."

My thoughts exactly. I press my hot forehead against the cool tiles of the shower stall as if to cool my fevered thoughts. It doesn't work.

~*~*~*~*~

Neither Madeline nor Operations are at the final briefing for the Korda mission and I can't say I'm not relieved. I don't seem to have much of a poker face today and I just can't look at Andrea and Michael without scowling. I definitely don't need an audience for my bad mood.

When I walk into the room, Birkoff is already at the computer, flicking different images up onto the holograph screen. I'm the last one to arrive, but my tardiness doesn't even rate the usual glance of annoyance from Michael. I sigh silently. Ignored again.

I walk over to them and reluctantly stand next to Andrea in order to see the screen properly.

Birkoff looks up at us. "Korda didn't know the location of the lab, but he said Glasser calls it twice a day from a secure phone in his office."

A new image flickers up onto the screen, a floor plan of the building we will be paying a courtesy call to this evening. Birkoff keeps talking, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of us.

"He's hosting a charity fund raiser tonight. Two hundred guests, security should be focused on the main floor. That should give us an opening."

Andrea almost saunters to Michael's side. How cosy. I look away, feigning great interest in the floor plan, wishing I could afford to ignore her.

Unfortunately, I have to keep paying attention. "Team One will secure the perimeter." I feel, rather than see, Andrea direct her next words to me. "You, Michael and I will work the inside."

I've been staring at the holograph, mainly to memorize it but also to give me something else to look at than Michael and Andrea standing together at the head of the briefing table. Andrea's words snap me back to the unwanted reality that is my life.

Andrea, Michael and me. Even cosier. "What's the configuration?" I have the feeling that the answer is not going to make me happy.

It doesn't.

Michael answers. "I'll work with Andrea." He doesn't meet my eyes. "You'll work solo."

I look at him in surprise before I can stop myself. I almost feel as though I've just been put in my place. Puzzled, I quickly search his face, hoping for some clue as to his behaviour.

Nothing. He seems to be deliberately ignoring me...again. Without being smug, that's pretty strange in itself.

I just nod at him and look away, but my mind is racing. Why is he working with Andrea, a woman he hardly knows, instead of me? Despite the problems between us, we work well together. As Michael himself once told me, we are convincing as two people in love. We can't afford to make any mistakes on this mission. What is going on? It's not like Michael to jeopardize a mission for the sake of an attraction.

"Get ready. We leave in an hour." He still won't look at me. I bite back the smart remark that I'm very tempted to make as I watch him leave with Andrea, but it doesn't stop me thinking it. Off to help your date pick out something to wear, are we?

I sigh and head for Munitions. This is just great.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The party has hit its peak by the time we arrive and it is easy to blend into the dozens of people hovering in the main entrance hallway. I glance quickly at the two women beside me. Andrea is surveying the crowd. Nikita is studiously ignoring both of us. I study her unobtrusively. She looks beautiful, her clothes an exotic mix of elegance and 'arty'. The profile requires Nikita to enter the premises first in order to enable Birkoff to scan the surroundings. As I watch her, Nikita touches a finger to her tinted glasses, starting the live video feed to Comm.

She throws me one last unfathomable glance and disappears into the crowd of fashionably dressed guests. I watch her walk away, suddenly wishing that it had been possible to change the mission configuration, or that I could have found a reason to pull Nikita from the team for this mission.

Sighing inwardly, I tear my eyes away from her receding figure and face the frightening truth. I'm no longer comfortable playing the part of a valentine op. It's not as though I ever enjoyed it, but it seems to be a lot more difficult that it used to be. And I know why. Nikita. The longer we go on circling each other, becoming entwined in each other's lives, in each other's hearts, the less capable I feel convincing another woman that I want her.

It's not Nikita's fault, I think grimly. It's mine. I set her free, only to bring her back into hell the first chance I had. I lived those six months without her in a numb uncaring daze, torn between being afraid to believe that she was dead, and being unable to accept that she was still alive and I couldn't reach her, touch her. Then came the disastrous mission in Lyons and a well-timed bullet that saved my life. I saw her and my world tilted on its axis, my heart wrenched into life at the sight of her. All thoughts of Elena, Adam and the Section dissolving in the face of a desire so intense that I felt I would wither and die if I didn't touch her, make love to her.

The few hours that we had together are scorched into my heart, my body. Ten months later, a certain smile or gesture from her still has the power to bring the memory of that night rushing back, flooding my body with a scalding longing for her, a longing that I am growing very weary of fighting. The weeklong mission to take down Joaquin Armel only served to rekindle that yearning, a few hours of temporary gratification that only made having to be without her afterwards more painful.

When I force myself to be brutally honest, I can admit that I was overwhelmed by the realisation that I loved this woman more than my own life. Consumed by my feelings for her, I felt as though I could no longer trust my own judgment to keep us safe. The bond that we had forged threatened more than just the two of us. If the Vachek mission had been compromised, Adam and Elena would have been considered acceptable collateral and there was no way I could tell Nikita the real reasons for my emotional withdrawal.

So I pushed Nikita away, wordlessly telling her to go. After a while, she did. And I hated it. And so the pattern began. She would drift away from me and I would draw her back with a word or a touch. I would see the hope spark in the depths of her eyes and hate myself more and more every time. I could no more be without her than I could be with her.

I stare after her, watching her bright head disappear slowly into the teeming crowd at the entrance. Asking me to play this role in front of Nikita was an inspired thought on Madeline's part. She, more than anyone else, understands how the lies, the touching, the art of seduction works in Section. She knows only too well the effect that this scenario will have on Nikita. Damn her.

All the way here, I could feel Nikita watching me, and then studying Andrea. She doesn't quite know what is going on, but I know that she suspects something. Either way, her opinion of me is about to plummet about as low as it can go.

I turn to Andrea and take her hand. We walk slowly towards the heart of the party, a central room with a dance floor. I sense a change in Andrea's attitude since our discussion this morning. It seems that backing off only served to pique her interest. I make a mental note never to second-guess Madeline's instructions when it comes to Valentine missions.

"You need to make a strong impression with Andrea and it doesn't necessarily have to be a favourable one. She is the type of operative who is fiercely proud of her work and will not stand for her abilities being called into question."

Madeline looked at me then, watching for my reaction. When I gave her none, she continued mildly. "But once you have made that impression, you will have gotten past her defenses. You will then need to...smooth things over. If you apologise for any misunderstandings, her pride will be salvaged. If you make a romantic overture towards her at this point, she will be intrigued enough to accept. Any attempt on her part to appear uninterested after that first contact will be a token one, a last effort to reassure herself that she is in control of her emotions."

Madeline stood and walked towards me, coming to stand right in front of me, her eyes filled with a dark knowledge that I chose to ignore. "She won't be, of course. You'll see to that, I'm sure."

My only reaction to Madeline's instructions was to nod abruptly and leave her office. But she was right. Andrea's hand is cool in mine, but not entirely steady. I rub my thumb lightly over the inside of her wrist a few times, feeling the pulse leap into sudden life at the contact with detached satisfaction.

We walk into the main room and I lead Andrea slowly through the dancing couples, nodding to the operative on point as we make eye contact. The music is slow. Andrea turns and puts her arms around my neck, holding her eyes with mine. I slide my arms around her small frame, tilting my head towards hers. We're not really dancing, our feet hardly moving as we sway together in time to the slow beat.

I half close my eyes as I gaze down at Andrea, trying to clamp down on my distracting awareness of Nikita's presence in the room. Birkoff's voice in my comm. unit confirms the reason for my discomfort.

"Nikita, twenty degrees to the left."

I keep my eyes on Andrea, disturbingly aware of the fact that she no longer wants to keep me at arms length. She moves closer than the mission profile requires, brushing her hips against mine subtly. She is attractive and she has decided that she wants me, and I will my body to respond convincingly. I slide my hands down her back, knowing that I must convince her that the attraction is mutual, not wanting her, wanting Nikita, my body and mind at war.

"Use the South Entrance...as soon as the guard moves away, you go." I listen to Birkoff's instructions to Nikita, hoping to gauge her position from his words.

I haven't heard Nikita speak once, only Birkoff guiding her. "Shouldn't be long."

I break into their one-sided conversation. "Okay, Birkoff. We're in position."

Andrea's heartbeat is steady against my chest. She feels so small in my arms, so unlike...I catch myself, trying not to let myself remember but I can't stop the images from flooding my mind, my body.

The last woman I danced with was Nikita, nearly four months ago. She doesn't know that I remember it. I lied to her. She risked her own life to cover up the fact that chemical torture had affected my memory, wiping my mind clean. It was only for three days but the memory of those hours with Nikita is seared into my heart. Unburdened by guilt and past sins I could remember nothing about my life apart from the fact that I loved this woman desperately. I close my eyes and try not to think about how it felt to hold Nikita in my arms, to feel her heart fluttering urgently beneath her skin as I pulled her close to me. The way she pushed me away when I tried to kiss her still haunts me.

I can feel the heat of Nikita's stare now. The tingling in my body has nothing to do with the woman I'm holding in my arms, although holding Andrea is much like holding Elena. So small and delicate, almost as though they are taking shelter in my embrace.

Not Nikita. Dancing with her is an erotic experience, almost a prelude to making love, so lush is the feel of her body pressed against mine, swaying sensually in time with the music.

For a long time, I could not work out why just standing next to her in Section could send sensual shockwaves through my body, until one day about eight months after she was recruited. We were walking quickly through the hallway to Munitions and I stopped abruptly, making Nikita almost run into me. As I turned to apologise to her, I realised belatedly that we were nearly the same height, something that life with Simone and Elena had not prepared me for. As I started to speak, I turned my head, only to find that we were standing literally face to face, hip to hip, her mouth only a whisper away from my own. I had to swallow hard and push several distractingly erotic impulses out of my mind. Muttering a vague apology, I literally stalked off to Munitions, more than a little disturbed by the effect that this recruit was having on me.

Now, I let my hands roam over Andrea's willing body as I look into her eyes, my mind a million miles and three years away.

"Nikita, the sequence is under way." Birkoff's voice suddenly flares to life in my comm. unit again.

There is a slight pause, and I have stop myself from looking for Nikita. I know she's watching. I can feel her eyes.

Nikita's voice is flatly abrupt in my ear. "Got it."

~*~*~*~*~

I can't help myself. I can't take my eyes off them. Jealousy coils hotly in the pit of my stomach, making me almost feel like I want to throw up. What is going on here? Andrea looks amazing in that black dress, stunningly petite. I feel like a six foot tall Pippy Longstocking compared to her, an unattractive frump. No wonder Michael is attracted to her. You don't know that. I swallow hard as I watch them dance, their eyes locked in a heated stare. Who am I kidding? Look at them!

It's like a road accident...I know I shouldn't look and yet I feel powerless to look away. Frustrated longing seizes my heart as I watch Michael slide his hand down Andrea's bare arm in a sensual caress, trailing his fingertips lingeringly over her bare skin. I swallow hard, jealousy and disbelief churning in my stomach as I watch them staring at each other intently. They look perfect together.

"Nikita, where are we?"

Birkoff's voice in my ear jolts me back to reality, making me realize that I'm just standing here on the stairs like an idiot. What the hell is wrong with me? Angry with myself, I pull my attention away from the dance floor and look up towards the door. The guard is gone.

"I'm going through."

At this point, I don't really care if the guard is lying in wait for me. Anything would be preferable to watching those two try to outstare each other.

~*~*~*~*~

Nikita has finally gone up the stairs. She hesitated so long that I was almost tempted to break position to check her status, but I held back, not wanting to bring any more attention to her lapse in concentration. Guilt pricks the back of my neck. I know very well what is distracting her.

I gaze down at Andrea, my mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. As distasteful as I find the entrapment style of this particular valentine assignment, I can't deny that this woman has begun to intrigue me. She withholds so much emotion, channeling any passion in her soul into her work for Section.

After watching her taxi disappear into the traffic last night, I returned to Section and spent several hours studying her previous work. Her profiles are quite unique, almost flawless in their design and execution, a fact made even more remarkable by the fact that she had not been on a live mission until yesterday.

I find it incredible to think that this woman, so dedicated to Section, so painfully proud of her work could be possessed of a mind so volatile that she is willing to take the lives of her fellow operatives for no reason other than bitter retribution. Section Two still hasn't been able to confirm her involvement. My stomach is churning with suppressed trepidation. Am I about to emotionally destroy an innocent woman on the strength of an unsubstantiated report?

Andrea's arms tighten slightly around my neck, bringing my face down closer to hers. Her eyes locked on mine, she sways closer, bringing her body flush against me. I run my hands down her bare back, putting a hand on the small of her back to press her hips against mine. The breath catches in her throat at the contact and she leans into me, her breasts brushing lightly against my chest.

I close my eyes and let my body take control, finally letting the tangle of heated memories of another woman flood my mind. A hundred erotic images flicker behind my eyelids as I inhale the heady scent of Andrea's perfume and feel the heat of her body seeping through my clothes, warming my skin. Despite my inner conflict, my body tightens in response to the combined sensual arousal of mind and body. But, the desire flowing hotly through my blood feels wrong, a betrayal of both the woman in my arms and the woman in my thoughts.

Surely the sequence must be nearly complete. "Birkoff." I flinch inwardly at the obvious note of urgency in my voice. "How long?"

"Twenty seconds."

Twenty seconds. It feels like an eternity.

What is taking her so long?

Birkoff's next words have the disturbing effect of a stay of execution. "We're clear."

~*~*~*~*~

The tension in the van on the return trip to Section is almost palpable.

I feel Nikita's eyes on me before her gaze slowly moves to take in Andrea, sitting next to me. I deliberately sat next to Andrea when we entered the vehicle, ignoring the empty seat next to Nikita. I watch her face now, marveling at the kaleidoscope of emotion that dances across her face before she realizes that I am looking at her.

Our eyes meet and the look of puzzled hurt in her eyes makes me want to look away. I resist the urge and meet her stare, unblinking. It is Nikita who finally raises a cynical eyebrow, before turning away to speak to Hobson who has come to sit next to her. She starts to chat to him in a more than slightly flirtatious manner and his whole face lights up. Just one of the many operatives who seem to be head over heels in love with her. I eye him disdainfully. Nikita has never given him the slightest bit of encouragement before, but she certainly seems to be making up for it now.

Andrea sits close beside me and I can feel the warmth of her body, her perfume still teasing my senses. She lets her thigh brush against me every now and then, just enough for it to be obvious that the contact is not accidental. It seems that post-mission adrenalin is doing most of the work for me.

We sit in silence. I know that I should be concentrating on Andrea. But even as I am letting my arm brush against Andrea's breast as the vehicle takes a sharp corner, all I can think of is the churning jealousy in the pit of my stomach as I watch Hobson put a teasing arm about Nikita's shoulders. She laughs half-heartedly at the joke he is telling her before looking up to find me watching her.

There's not enough time to either look away or disguise my rather intense thoughts. Nikita's smile becomes hesitant as she takes in my unguarded look. She meets my eyes with a challenging stare for a few seconds. Her gaze then moves to Andrea, lingering on the other woman rather pointedly before lifting her eyes to mine once more. A humourless smile curves her generous mouth and I feel my heart flutter in my chest at the empty look in her eyes. And then she is gone, turning away from me to flirt with Hobson again.

This is a dangerous game that Nikita and I are playing. How much longer can this go on before we both get hurt?

~*~*~*~*~

Section. Thank God. I could not stand another minute in the back of the van with those two. It's bad enough having to watch him make goo-goo eyes at Andrea, but I may as well have stayed in the van for this entire mission for all the attention that Michael paid me. I feel so petty and small, but I can't help my thoughts. In all the times that Michael has been cruel to me, lied to me, seduced me in the name of Section, he has never ignored me. But now he is, and it hurts more than I want to admit. It is as though he can't even see me any more, not when Andrea is around.

I lag behind them as we come through van access, not wanting to have to see any more than I already have. They may as well be strolling arm in arm, they're giving off such a 'couple' vibe. When I could tear my eyes away from Michael, I was watching her face. She wants him. He's broken through that ice maiden routine and I bet he wasn't even trying.

"Nikita." It's Birkoff. "Madeline wants to see you in her office."

Well, this day just gets better and better, doesn't it? I wonder what I'll be doing next? Going out to cancel half a dozen innocents? I scowl at Birkoff.

"Madeline? Why?"

He shrugs at me, obviously not wanting to know what my scowl is all about. "She didn't say."

I watch Michael walk with Andrea around the corner and out of my sight. Out of my life. I shake my head, confused. Where did that come from?

I look at the ceiling, blinking back the hot tears that threaten to totally embarrass me in front of Birkoff, then make my way reluctantly towards Madeline's office.

~*~*~*~*~

I bite back a weary sigh and look at Madeline. I don't know why she asked me to come to her office. Apart from a vague question about how the mission went, all she's done for the last ten minutes is quiz me about Walter, her questions hovering around the subject of Belinda, and Walter's feelings about Operations.

Surely she knows better? Walter's one of my best friends. If he were running around Section saying that he was going to shove Operations' head up his own butt, I wouldn't tell Madeline.

I've had just about enough of this day. A little twinge of sadness somewhere deep inside me reminds me of why I've had such a bad day. I won't think about him. I won't.

"Is that all?"

I don't bother waiting for a reply. I'm already out of my chair and heading for the door by the time Madeline answers me.

"No. No, it isn't."

I watch Madeline as she brings up something on her screen. Shit. It's not enough that I had to watch it live, now I get the action replay. It's the party we have just left. The dance floor, to be precise. Michael and Andrea dancing, to be even more precise. Oh, zooming in now. Thanks Madeline. Just what I needed to see. I tear my eyes away from her monitor just as she turns back to me, trying to keep my expression bland.

Madeline's eyes meet mine, speculation gleaming in their depths. "You let your camm view drift, for a full three seconds."

I feel my face flush. "No harm resulted."

"Nevertheless, it was a lapse."

Looking everywhere but at Madeline's computer, I struggle to keep my face from betraying my thoughts.

"I'll be more careful next time."

Madeline swivels her chair around to gaze at her computer screen. "They work well together. They may even be entering into a relationship."

Before I can stop myself, I follow the direction of Madeline's eyes and find myself staring at her monitor.

I never used to be a jealous person. Now, looking at the image of Michael holding Andrea in his arms, totally oblivious to everyone else, I feel sick. A painful sense of dejection seeps through my heart and I struggle to hide my thoughts from Madeline. Blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes, I sniff in what I hope is a convincingly disdained manner.

"I wouldn't know." I shuffle my feet slightly and try to look unconcerned.

Madeline is not going to let me off the hook that easily. "I hope they are. For their sake...and for yours."

I look at her blankly. That doesn't make any sense to me. "For my sake?"

"It's better for Operatives to find relationships that won't affect their work. Your passion for life is very strong, Nikita. It enables you to accomplish things that no one else can." She flicks another quick look at her computer monitor. "It can also destroy you."

I stare at Madeline as her insinuation becomes clear. Human translation of that little gem of wisdom? It's better for Section operatives to have meaningless sex with that special someone, rather than find someone to love, someone who will love them back.

In other words, love distracts you in a way that meaningless sex can never do.

A slow-burning anger starts to build inside me. It's bad enough that I have to watch Michael pursue Andrea. My days are spent watching him trying to charm the pants off her, my nights spent running from dreams so painfully erotic that I almost blush when I run into Michael the next morning. Now I have to listen to Madeline telling me that the fact that Michael and Andrea may soon start to have a nice little relationship based on sex would be good for me. How nice.

I can't say what I really want to say, so I say nothing. If you can't say anything nice...

I nod my head at her, feeling desperately as though I need some fresh air. "Now are we done?"

Madeline regards me with those dark eyes of hers that can be so warm, lulling you into a false sense of security before turning to pure ice only seconds later. But for the moment, she seems satisfied that she's made her point.

"Yes."

I can't get out of her office fast enough.

~*~*~*~*~

"I though we were going to dinner?"

I slip Andrea's coat from her shoulders and toss it carelessly onto her sofa. "Only if you want to. I was hoping to spend our time somewhere more...private." Andrea insisted on coming to her apartment first so that she could change.

I have no intention of taking her out to dinner again. While Andrea was dropping off her comm. unit on our return to Section, I had a brief but damning conversation with Operations.

"The head of Systems at Section Two has completed his analysis of the last mission profiled by Andrea to incur an unexpected fatality. The configuration of the mission profile was altered by Comm after the profile had been set. The updated intel was not relayed to the operative on point, who lost her life as a result."

He looks at me with perturbed eyes. "Erin Wilden, the operative who died, had apparently challenged Karsov the previous day in front of the Operations of Section Two and several operatives, complaining that she was incompetent and insinuating that perhaps Joseph Lee hadn't been the only operative sympathetic to Red Cell. Twenty-four hours later, she was dead, a result of incomplete intel on a mission apparently designed single-handedly by Andrea Karsov.

Operations sighs wearily. "She is Level Three, Michael...her cancellation cannot be ordered lightly. Oversight require irrefutable evidence that she is capable of deliberately changing the mission profile in order to effect Wilden's death."

He fixes me with a pale uncompromising stare. "Get it."

Andrea's voice brings me back to the present with a jolt.

"We could have dinner here." It's a statement, not a question. I'm almost ashamed of how easy this has been.

"Perhaps later." I smile at Andrea and reach for her, my mind filled with thoughts of Elena and Adam.

And Nikita.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I wander aimlessly around my apartment, feeling too wound up to go to bed, but too distracted to read a book.

Don't think about them.

Pulling open the French doors to the balcony, I lean against the doorframe and let the cool evening air tease my heated skin.

Don't think about him.

Music. I need some music. Leaving the doors open I flick through my CDs, trying to find something that won't remind me of Michael.

Don't think about it.

How can every single bloody CD possibly remind me of Michael? Irritated beyond belief, I head for the shower.

Don't think about her.

Hot water doesn't soothe me and the aromatherapy shower gel stubbornly refuses to calm my increasing dejected thoughts. I wind a towel into a turban around my wet hair and shrug into my dressing gown. I feel hot and restless. I want to go out, but I don't want to see anyone. I can't bear the thought of having to make conversation with anyone, but I feel as though I can't be in the apartment by myself a minute longer.

I flop down onto my unmade bed. It's back...that old feeling of being unwanted. That miserable ache of not belonging that was my constant companion for so long, a constant niggling voice telling me that I'm not good enough. A voice that I thought I'd banished long ago.

Don't think about them.

I'm tired of running from this. Closing my eyes, I give in to the thoughts pounding to be let in. I think about him. And her. The acute misery that has been waiting to pounce on my heart ever since I watched Michael and Andrea leave Section together floods through my whole body. I knew that letting myself face this would hurt.

I brush my tears away angrily. I just didn't realize that it would hurt this much.