Michael waited in the bedroom of Madeline’s home. He knew that no one would be watching this place because no one knew that he was aware of its location. Not even Madeline knew that. In his third year at Section, Michael had decided to test his new skills and had tracked Madeline to her home. It was a secret he had shared with no one. He hadn’t even told Vanderwood his plan. Michael wasn’t sure why not, but that didn’t matter now. He heard a door open, then footsteps. Madeline was home. Michael moved into the shadows to wait.

Madeline climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. She hadn’t been home for three days and she was looking forward to a hot bath, a glass of wine, then bed. But even as she kicked off her shoes, she sensed a presence. Too late. There was a stinging pain in her neck then darkness washed over her and Madeline fell into it.

Stepping out of the closet, Michael crossed the room and stood over Madeline’s body. Smiling, he knelt down then lifted her into his arms. A moment later they were in a van and driving away.

Madeline opened her eyes and discovered that she was in a white room that was a reflection of Section One. She had already discovered that she was restrained, hand and foot, and she could guess who would be there to greet her. Vanderwood. But when she turned her head to the left, the man sitting in the chair was a surprise. “Michael...” Madeline whispered.

He stood up and moved to the bed. Reaching out with one hand, Michael smoothed a lock of dark hair off Madeline’s face. “Hello,” he said softly.

“What happens now?” Madeline queried. She could see that Michael’s eyes were glazed. He was being drugged somehow and she could guess that it was a psychotic derivative, allowing Vanderwood control over Michael. Madeline could also imagine what means Vanderwood had used to break Michael and a shiver rippled through her. Not too many things, or people, frightened Madeline. But Vanderwood did.

“Now it begins,” Drawled a soft voice. As if on cue, Vanderwood stepped into the room. He moved to the other side of the table and smiled down at Madeline. “Still beautiful,” he whispered, and then he laughed when Madeline thanked him, politely. She had class. “You know what I want, Madeline,” Vanderwood said. “To destroy Section One. And I will do that. But I want something else as well.”

Madeline nodded. “Rita. Sorry....can’t help you there.”

Vanderwood sighed, but it was insincere. “Come now, Madeline. We both know that you WILL help me. But the question is....how painful are you going to make it for yourself?”

“Suffering is good for the soul,” Madeline quipped, but she felt fear wash over her again.

“There is a fine line between pain and pleasure,” Vanderwood drawled, as he moved to add a syringe full of amber liquid to the IV solution that hung by the bed. It didn’t take long to hit Madeline’s blood stream and Vanderwood laughed as he watched her Madeline’s eyes darken. He looked at Michael and nodded.

Michael leaned down and kissed Madeline, using all of his considerable skill to illicit a response from her. It didn’t take long before Madeline was moaning, her tongue pushing into Michael’s mouth. It was then that Michael pulled back.

“What a perfect tool you gave me. He does whatever I say—perhaps I’ll ask him to kill you....when I’m done with you.” He gave Michael a pat on the shoulder and said, “Guard.” Without a word Michael turned to go to the door and Vanderwood faced Madeline, letting his eyes run over her slim form as he tugged his tie loose. “Now....shall we begin?” And walked off to the side to bring over a cart, smiling as he picked up his favorite instrument and moved over to Madeline. “This won’t break you, I know—but one of the first things we learn in this art is to establish the subject’s threshold of pain. I imagine yours must be quite high....nearly as high as Michael’s. But we’ll see, won’t we?” he added with a sunny smile, stepping closer to the bed.

Outside the door, Michael could hear a scream and a shiver went through him, his only reaction before he blocked out the sounds of pain.

The house wasn’t particularly remarkable, an old and faded Victorian that had seen better days, surrounded by a white picket fence, the lawn a little overgrown, only the rosebushes around it well tended. An initial glance showed nothing unusual about the house but all the same Jurgen waited until dark to approach it, using the night-vision goggles to see what the daytime had hidden: four guards in all, three inside the house and one to patrol outside, in an endless rotation. Not enough to repel a serious assault, but enough to keep someone from escaping.

One of Jurgen’s sources had said that the Section had kept Rita under close surveillance in the beginning but now with this latest location the operatives guarding her had only loose contact with the Section, sending weekly reports. Keeping her under wraps was still considered a priority but she was no longer monitored as closely as before.

Both Nikita and Jurgen were armed with tranq guns to take down the guards, planning to make the raid quick and bloodless. The perimeter guard was easily taken down; he had stopped to smoke a cigarette near the back porch and Nikita’s shot took him in the leg, the man having only enough time to slip a hand into his coat before he fell. Creeping across the lawn, Jurgen motioned for Nikita to take the back door while he went for the front.

With a lock pick he got the front door open and slipped inside, immediately dropping down to take out the second of the four guards, a young woman that froze for a moment at seeing the intruder, managing to get her gun out and a shot off before she went down. A call from the interior and then another thud, two quick shots and Jurgen met the third operative as he came staggering out of the kitchen, a hand clasped to his neck as he fell back.

Nikita joined him a moment later and said softly, “Two accounted for.”

“Other two are down. Upstairs.” And led the way up the staircase.

As was her usual routine, Rita was curled up in a chair, reading a book, a mug of hot chocolate at her elbow. She’d finish the book and then go to bed, the same routine she had followed for the last few years, and by now it had become solid and comfortable. There were times that it drove her mad, being confined to this house as she was, but when it got particularly bad all she had to think was that it was better than being dead.

It wasn’t that bad a life—she had her books to read, was allowed to work in the garden and tend the rosebushes a few hours a day, had whatever she desired....save her freedom. She’d sacrificed that when she’d gone along with her husband’s plans to bring the Section down—the only thing that had saved her was her intervention when Vanderwood had attempted to destroy one of the Section’s most prized operatives....Michael.

Setting aside her book Rita reached for the mug and took a sip of hot chocolate, the warmth of it soothing away the tension those memories brought. From downstairs she heard a faint sound and sat still, listening intently; a moment later came the sound of two shots and she stood up, the mug falling from suddenly nerveless fingers and crashing to the floor.

Vanderwood had found her....somehow he’d found her and he was coming to take her away. Rather than soothe her, the thought terrified her and she trembled as she moved back from the door, hearing footsteps come up the hallway. She had been under Vanderwood’s spell for a long time, barely managing to break free....she didn’t think she could survive him again. Frantically she looked around the room for something—anything—to use as a weapon, eyes falling on the lamp, and she hurriedly grabbed it, yanking the cord from the socket and hefting it as the footsteps stopped beside the door.

She hurled it at the door as it opened and ran at the same time, getting only a brief impression of two black clad figures before one tackled her. Writhing under the man, she struck out at him with her hands, struggling as he pinned her down.

“Rita!”

Abruptly she stilled, recognizing the voice, and stared up at the man over her as he pulled back the ski mask to reveal blond hair and a familiar face. “Jurgen?” Behind him a blond haired woman stood and Rita frowned as she glanced from one to the other. “I don’t understand—why....?”

“Vanderwood has Michael. You know all his haunts—I want to know where he’d take Michael.” Gripping her arm Jurgen pulled her up to her feet.

Michael....she remembered the young recruit, considered to be one of the best even in his first year of training, how much Operations had invested in him....and how badly her husband had wanted to control him. And how close he’d come to destroying the troubled young man.... “I....think I know where.” she said slowly, remembering the one base Vanderwood had never given up, having invested too much money and time in it. His sanctum sanctorum....

“Where?” asked Jurgen tersely.

Rita shook her head, hugging herself as a shiver of dread went through her at what she was about to propose. “Telling you how to get there isn’t enough—you won’t get in without me. I’ll have to go with you.”

“Then let’s go.” Still gripping her arm, he pulled her with him as he went back downstairs, the young blond woman following them silently.

Vanderwood looked down at the limp figure before him, pale skin slicked with sweat, dark brown hair clinging in dampened strands to the beautiful features, and leaned over to press a kiss against Madeline’s forehead. Amazing fortitude she had and it was no wonder, given her position....but as Vanderwood had broken Michael, so he would not stop until he had taken Madeline apart. But with her he was not interested in reassembling the pieces....

He passed a hand over her shoulder and then left her, going out into the hallway where Michael still stood guard, touching him on the arm. “It will take time but she will give us what we want....entry to the Section. And then you can repay them for what they’ve done to you....”

A flicker of remorse in Michael’s eyes as they flicked behind him and to the room Madeline was held in, Vanderwood’s arm going around his shoulders as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Remember Simone? And little Daniel? How they suffered....” He felt Michael tremble under his arm and hid a smile, stroking hair back from Michael’s cheek.” The Section is responsible for their pain....and for yours. You can stop that pain....stop them. Stop them from hurting anyone else. Don’t you want to?”

“Yes....” whispered Michael.

“She has caused you pain too, hasn’t she? Or don’t you think she had a hand in their deaths?”

Michael’s eyes closed as Vanderwood whispered the words in his ear, all the old doubts as sharp and fresh as they had been then. Section had wanted the perfect operative....and his family had gotten in the way....so they’d been removed. And taken with them his soul.... “First Madeline....and then Operations. Agreed?”

The voices of Simone and Daniel echoed in his mind, demanding justice for their deaths.... “Agreed.” said Michael dully.

Vanderwood’s base was a former medical research lab in the hills of Northern California, at the end of a long dirt road. Rather than take the road they approached on foot, Nikita and Jurgen armed this time with live rounds and Rita with nothing. Though she’d agreed to bring them in Jurgen didn’t trust her enough to allow her a gun, not when there was so much at stake....and not when there was even the slightest possibility that this time she might side with Vanderwood, if only to gain her freedom.

Again they went at night, using wire cutters to get through the fence, and one by one darted across the compound to the doors leading into the lab. As they huddled beside her, guns out and watching the perimeter, Rita took a moment to recall the codes she’d memorized so long ago, her second try meeting with success. Easing the door open she entered first, Nikita and Jurgen slipping in behind her, and reached out to grasp Jurgen’s arm.

“I know where he does the....interrogations.”

“Lead on, MacDuff.” said Jurgen ironically and she gave him a brief, stressed smile before leading them down the hallway. As they went, both Nikita and Jurgen kept an eye on their rear, following Rita through the twists and turns of the corridors.

And as they came around a bend, Jurgen saw the last person he was expecting to see.

Michael stood before a door, hands hanging loosely at his sides, and as he heard them approach, he pulled a gun from his shoulder holster and turned to face them, gun extended. “Drop your weapons.” No emotion at all in his eyes, no reaction that he knew them, just the blank mask of the Section operative he had worn so long.

“Michael.” Jurgen moved in front of Rita, his own gun held loosely at his side, and held up his other hand. “It’s me, Jurgen....Nikita’s here too.”

Michael’s eyes flicked briefly to Nikita as she moved up beside Jurgen and his other hand came up to grasp the gun, finger tightening on the trigger.” Stop.” he said coldly.

“You won’t shoot us, Michael.” said Nikita calmly, advancing step by step, holstering her gun and holding her hands out to show they were empty.

Michael stepped back as she moved forward, eyes going from her to Jurgen as he too began to walk slowly forward. “Not another step.” The calm started to crack, eyes a little wild as they both came forward, stumbling back before their advance. “I will shoot—“ He froze as Jurgen stepped up to him, one hand reaching out to touch his, Michael’s hands trembling as they held the gun. Jurgen folded his fingers over Michael’s, pressing tightly, and laid a hand against his cheek. Michael’s eyes closed at his touch, remembering as if in a dream the touch of the other man, the feel of strong arms around him, the comfort and peace he’d found in that embrace....and he let the gun fall from his hands, clattering to the floor. Jurgen caught him before he could fall to the floor, arms closing tightly around him as he laid his cheek against Michael’s hair, feeling relief sweep through him. For a moment there he’d thought that Michael had been lost....

Nikita came to put her arms around Michael’s waist, the familiar warmth of their embrace helping to drive some of the fog from his mind, and he blinked hard against the tears that threatened to flow, allowing himself the comfort of being held for one long moment before he pulled free. “Madeline....”

“Michael.”

A chill went through Jurgen at the sound of Vanderwood’s voice and he started to bring up his gun, halting when he heard the ominous click of automatic weapons preparing to fire. Slowly he turned to see men standing behind them, automatic rifles raised and aimed at them, looked back over his shoulder to see Vanderwood before them, three more of his men standing behind him.

Slowly, pulling free of Nikita’s hand, Michael turned to face Vanderwood and Vanderwood smiled as he regarded the three of them, the smile widening as he saw Rita. “Rita, my love—it’s been so long!” His eyes went from Rita to Jurgen, eyes sparkling. “And Jurgen—how kind of you to bring her here. The cavalry off to the rescue—a pity that the prisoner doesn’t want to be rescued.” The smile vanished and he turned his attention to Michael.

“Rita is mine—you can kill the other two.”

“No.” whispered Michael.

“No?” echoed Vanderwood, eyebrows upraised as he looked from Michael to Jurgen and Nikita. “I gave you an order.”

“And I said....no.” Michael was trembling and sweating visibly but his tone was firm.

“Michael....they’re Section, both of them. You think they came here to save you?” Vanderwood laughed mockingly, eyes full of scorn as they regarded the younger man.” Out of the goodness of their hearts? They want to take you back so you can be a good Section operative again....alone. Forever alone....”

Pain darkened Michael’s eyes, his resolve faltering a little, and Nikita reached out to touch him with hands and voice. “You won’t be alone with us, Michael. But you will be with him. He’s manipulating you, using your pain to control you.” She put her hands on his shoulders, gripping them tightly. “Don’t let him do this to you.”

“Kill them....and you kill your pain.”

Searching Nikita’s eyes, Michael could see only concern and love in the clear blue depths, no subterfuge at all, and he took her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze before he turned to face Vanderwood.

“I kill them....and I kill myself.” he said softly.

Vanderwood shrugged. “Oh, well, can’t say that I didn’t try....” Raising his gun he fired and hit Michael in the side, watching in satisfaction as the young man crumpled, hand clasped to his side. Nikita fell down beside him, placing hands over his as blood started to flow, tears in her eyes as she looked down at Michael, seeing the faint smile curving his lips before his eyes closed and he sank into unconsciousness. A hand grasped her arm and dragged her bodily away, two men holding her down while a third slapped cuffs onto her wrists.

With rifles pointed at him, Jurgen placed hands on top of his head and slowly sank down to his knees, letting himself be cuffed as well. Vanderwood came to stand before him, a cruel smile on his face as he regarded him. “It’s been a long time, Jurgen. It’s going to be a pleasure to get to....know you again.”

Jurgen spat at him, earning himself a hard cuff before he was dragged away. Vanderwood cast a contemptuous glance at the still form of Michael and waved at another of his men. “Put him in with the other two.” Nodding the man motioned to his companion and together they dragged Michael away.

That left only Rita, trembling slightly as Vanderwood approached her and flinching as he laid a hand on her cheek. “I’ve missed you.” he said tenderly and took her arm to lead her away.

Rita lay curled up on the bed. Vanderwood was gone after making love to her all night. Getting reacquainted he called it.

She didn’t even want to think about it now. He had left her feeling bruised and used and dirty. She was dressed again, but uncertain as to what she should do. One thing was for certain, she would not stay with Vanderwood. She’d rather be dead. And the other thought was that she had to free Michael and the others.

Rising from the bed, Rita slipped out of the room. She had played her part well, so Vanderwood felt he could trust her. He told her she was free to roam the facility, as it were. And she did so now, making her way to the sub basement level. She knew that it was there that he would keep his prisoners. Rita had a plan.

Michael lay on the floor, his head pillowed in Nikita’s lap. He was asleep. Exhausted by the emotional stress he had been suffering and from his injury. Luckily, the wound wasn’t as serious as it had first seemed, bullet grazing deep along his side, but not entering the body, so no vital organs were damaged. However, he had bled heavily, and blood still oozed slightly through the makeshift bandage that Jurgen had made.

The blond man sat hunched in the corner, eyes locked on Michael. He hadn’t spoken to Nikita being promising her that they were on their own. Section would not come for them. Wouldn’t know where to go anyway. And since they had taken Rita, Section would have no way to find them. Nor would they care.

What Jurgen didn’t know was that Vanderwood had Madeline. Not that he would have felt that would make a difference. They were alone and Jurgen was afraid. Vanderwood still had the power to terrify him. But he kept this knowledge to himself, and his eyes locked on Michael’s face. Michael was his strength in this moment. The only reason. He could think have not to give in to his fear. But it was a battle hard won.

Vanderwood was ecstatic. He had Madeline, Michael and Jurgen. And he knew who Nikita was, and extra bonus, since she could be used to control Michael. Vanderwood was very angry with the young man, but he would forgive him. He still needed Michael to complete his revenge. And Jurgen would help. Vanderwood was watching the trio via video monitors and he knew, instantly, that Jurgen was in love with Michael, and that the two men were lovers. It wouldn’t take much to break Jurgen now. He had always loved Michael, but it had been from a distance before. Now that he had loved Michael in all ways, Vanderwood would be able to shatter him like a fine, crystal glass.

Turning to the guard who stood by the door, Vanderwood ordered him to take Jurgen and Michael out of holding and confine them to the Blue Room. He would be there shortly. As the guard left, a smile crossed Vanderwood’s face.

Jurgen felt sweat break out and sheen his skin as he was restrained in the chair that resided in the corner of the room.

Michael was similarly restrained, but on a bed in the center of the chamber. When the door to the room opened, Jurgen didn’t need to look to know that it was Vanderwood who entered. Fear washed over Jurgen, crashing into him like a giant wave.

Vanderwood could smell Jurgen’s fear and it pleased him. But, for the moment, he ignored him, focusing all of his attention on Michael. Vanderwood sighed as he reached the bed and checked Michael’s wound. He had intended to wound rather than kill Michael, so he was pleased. Michael was weakened by blood loss, but he would live. And his physical weakness would make things easier. Tangling his fingers in Michael’s soft hair, Vanderwood leaned over and claimed a kiss. He was surprised when Michael offered no resistance. So he deepened the kiss, ravishing the mouth. Still no reaction.

Michael knew what Vanderwood intended to do. He would use him to break Jurgen. But that wasn’t going to happen. Michael wouldn’t let it. He no longer feared Vanderwood. And, seeing Jurgen and Nikita coming to his rescuing. Knowing the cost of their betrayal to Section, and that their loyalty had been to him, Michael suddenly found reason to fight back. Not so much to fight Vanderwood, but to fight his own doubts and fears. He would fight to live, and to find a way to free them all, one way or another.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Michael,” Vanderwood whispered against the sensual mouth. “I have to punish you.”

“Yes,” Michael replied, his eyes cold as they locked with Vanderwood’s. “If you can.” He spoke loud enough for Jurgen to hear, hoping that the other man would understand the message he was sending. That he was strong enough to handle whatever Vanderwood did to him. He had passed the breaking point without breaking. He was stronger than Vanderwood could ever know.

Vanderwood was stunned to see the cold fire in Michael’s eyes, yet it excited him as well. He did so love a challenge. Breaking Michael the first time had been relatively easy. This time would be far more interesting, and he would break Jurgen along the way. “It will be my pleasure,” Vanderwood breathed against Michael’s lips. Then he let his hands glide over Michael’s body, unbuttoning the shirt and peeling it away. Uncaring of the blood that stained Michael’s skin as he caressed the hard muscles of chest and abdomen. Then he reached the fastenings of Michael’s trousers, but first he caressed the bulge of Michael’s cock through the material, bending to nuzzle it as well. And that was his fatal mistake.

Michael’s hands were restrained, but not his legs. In spite of the pain he was in, Michael’s legs lifted and locked around Vanderwood’s neck. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy, that Vanderwood would be so foolish. But Michael didn’t question his luck. His thigh muscle tightened around Vanderwood’s neck then he twisted his hips and there was a snap. A moment later Vanderwood went limp and Michael unlocked his legs, let the body fall to the floor.

In that same moment the door opened and two guards entered. They had been monitoring the room from next door. Too late to save Vanderwood, but just in time to kill Michael and Jurgen. Only they were the one’s who fell.

Rita had made her way to the holding cell, systematically taking out guards as she went. They weren’t smart enough to see her as a threat so killing them was easy. Rita had been a good cold op with Section. Killing had never been a problem. When she reached the cell it was to discover that only Nikita remained. Rita turned pale. She could guess what that meant. Tossing a gun to Nikita, Rita had ordered the blond to hurry.

They made their way to the control room, but Rita froze. She sensed that something was wrong. Ducking into a side room that had surveillance equipment, Rita punched up the security logs, and brought up the guard stations. All she saw were blank screens. “We’ve been infiltrated!” Rita hissed.

Nikita was stunned. “By who?”

“I only know of one group who could do it,” Rita replied, a cold smile curving her lips. “Section One.”

“But....how?” Nikita countered, even as she realized that Rita was right.

Rita laughed, a coarse sound. “The moment you and Jurgen left Section to come after me, they would have known where you were going. They were watching. And they must have activated my implant.” At Nikita’s surprised look she explained. “There’s a tracker implanted just beneath my collarbone. We made it easy for them.”

Nikita was still confused. “But we betrayed Section. Why would they rescue us?”

“Not you,” Rita replied, with brutal honesty. “But Madeline. She’s here and Operations would move heaven and earth to get her back.” A wicked glint appeared in Rita’s eyes. “That’s his greatest weakness, Nikita. Michael knows it, and you should remember it as well.” With that she turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Nikita asked, grabbing Rita’s arm.

Rita pulled away, her eyes cold. “I’m getting the hell out of Dodge while the getting’s good.” That said, she ran off.

Nikita was tempted to follow, but only for a moment. Then she sighed and headed back the way they had come. She had to find Michael and Jurgen.

Nikita didn’t get far before she was met by Section operatives. By the use of Rita’s implanted tracker they had managed to trace the group to Vanderwood’s base, where they immediately retrieved the four of them. Madeline had already been lifted out and as Nikita surrendered to the team leader—Bishop—she was taken away with Jurgen and Michael, who was borne out on a stretcher. Once back at the Section, Michael was taken to Medlab and she and Jurgen were separated, sent to cool their heels in Holding. No word as to what was happening to Michael or Madeline, both left to their own thoughts as they contemplated what would befall them.

Hours later they were individually escorted to Operations’ office, Operations giving their escort a curt nod of dismissal, puffing contentedly on his cigar as he gazed out over the Section’s main floor.

“The only reason that neither of you have been cancelled is because you led us to Vanderwood.” said Operations, still not looking at them, his stance completely relaxed and his tone of voice matter of fact. “Since the extraction of Madeline was accomplished successfully, I’m willing to....overlook the methods you employed, Jurgen.” He turned to give Jurgen a look, eyes hard as flint. “But believe this....I will not have my authority undermined again. By either of you.” And turned his back on them, dismissing them.

But Nikita wasn’t to be put off so easily. “What happens to Michael?”

Operations turned to face her, exhaling smoke, and smiled thinly, showing white teeth. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It concerns us both.” She glanced in surprise at Jurgen as he stepped forward, folding arms over his chest and matching Operations look for look.

Operations stared hard at him for a long moment then turned away. “Michael’s status remains unchanged. That’ll be all.” he added when Nikita started to speak, tone uncompromising.

Jurgen nodded to Nikita and she followed him out of the office, letting out the shaky breath she had been holding. “What happens now?” she asked Jurgen quietly.

The question seemed simple but the potential answers were not so simple, depending on what exactly she meant. “With Michael?” he asked in turn, knowing that her question was for something else entirely and deliberately misunderstanding. “They’ll give him some time—encourage him to see a counselor....and in typical Michael fashion he’ll refuse. He just needs some space right now.”

Reluctantly Nikita nodded. “Okay.” She started to turn away but stopped in mid-motion, reaching out to touch Jurgen on the arm. “Jurgen—I didn’t think you really cared about him....but I can see you do. Just be....easy on him, okay?”

“I will.” said Jurgen softly.

Giving him a tentative parting smile, Nikita walked away and Jurgen watched her go for a moment before going off on his own.

Michael had thought that if he ignored the knocking long enough, the person on the other side of the door would determine eventually that he was not home and go away. But such was not the case and the knocking continued until he was forced to get up and answer it.

Jurgen stood in the doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, expression bland as he met Michael’s eyes. “Can I come in?”

Michael stood there with his hand on the door, thinking of his conversation with Operations and Operations mention that he see a counselor about his recent....experience, not pushing at all when Michael had said he didn’t need it. “I thought that Operations gave in a little too easily.” said Michael dryly.

“So—in what capacity are you here? Trainer or counselor?”

“I’m here as someone who loves you....and cares about what you’re going through.” replied Jurgen evenly. “Can I come in?”

Slowly Michael opened the door wider to let him in, shutting it behind Jurgen and turning to face him, one hand going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t need to come all the way over here. I’m....”

“Fine?” Jurgen finished for him with a slight smile, studying Michael for a long moment, taking in the disheveled appearance and circles under his eyes. Odd to see the normally impeccably groomed Michael in wrinkled jeans and t-shirt, stubble lining the strong jaw, brown hair looking as if it hadn’t seen brush or comb in days. “We both know that’s a lie. You’re not fine.”

Jaw tightening, Michael turned away from him and went to sink down into a chair, folding hands tightly into his lap to hide their trembling. Knowing that Nikita and Jurgen cared enough to risk their lives to rescue him when the Section had effectively abandoned him had gone a long ways towards restoring his emotional equilibrium, to giving him the strength—the need—to fight Vanderwood’s hold on him, but with Vanderwood dead and himself restored to the Section....all the old doubts had come back. Nightmares plagued him, a recurring dream in which he lost both Nikita and Jurgen....and the pain of their loss was the same as the loss of Simone and his son…a loss that he knew he wouldn’t be able to survive again....

Jurgen knelt before his chair, laying hands on his knees, and it took all Michael had not to flinch back from his touch, remembering the touch of other hands. “Talk to me, Michael.” he pleaded. “Let me in.”

“I can’t lose anyone else.” Not what he had intended to say at all, it had just slipped out, and he was appalled at his lack of control....but once the words had started to flow he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I can’t go through it again.”

“Michael....” Jurgen cupped his chin and forced his head up so that their eyes met, seeing a flicker of pain in the gray depths. “I’m not planning on leaving you any time soon. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily.” he added teasingly, expression softening as the troubled look in Michael’s eyes. He leaned forward to give Michael a gentle kiss, fingers threading through his hair.

Michael held himself still, allowing the kiss, closing his eyes, but in his mind he was in another place, restrained to a bed, one of his guards over him, mouth pressing greedily against his as hands tugged at his clothing. Too weak from the torture to provide more than token resistance and the humiliation of being forced nearly as strong as the pain—choking he twisted his head aside, hands coming up to push at Jurgen’s chest.

“Stop—“ He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t let go of the memory of hands touching, a voice chuckling at the sounds of pain it wrought, and he struck out at Jurgen as he hadn’t been able to with his rapist. Bewildered, Jurgen caught his arms, trying to calm him, but it had the opposite effect, Michael tugging frantically to free captured arms.

“Michael, it’s okay....it’s me....” Jurgen dragged him up from the chair, wincing as a bare foot caught him in the shin, and over to the couch, shoving him down on it, using his body to hold him down while he tried to reach him, laying a hand on his cheek. “Michael, I’m not going to hurt you, I swear....” Gently he stroked Michael’s hair, murmuring to him soothingly, and gradually Michael calmed, though he could still feel him trembling underneath him. Slowly he drew back, allowing Michael space, and Michael slid back, pressing against the arm of the couch and drawing up his knees.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know....” He started to touch Michael again and drew back as the younger man flinched away, feeling anger flare in him at the thought of what Vanderwood had done to him. It had taken a long time for him to get Michael to trust him enough to let him in....and now they were back where they had been before. Feeling suddenly very tired, he pushed himself up from the couch. “I’ll go—“

A hand touched him tentatively on the arm and he looked down in surprise at Michael, who swallowed hard before he whispered, “Don’t go....” Sinking back down onto the couch Jurgen turned to face Michael and was surprised again as the younger man reached out to wrap arms tightly around Jurgen’s waist, burying his head in Jurgen’s shoulder. Gingerly Jurgen put his arms around Michael, holding him loosely, one hand rubbing his back as Michael clung to him, finally letting down the barriers between them, tears soaking into Jurgen’s shirt. He held Michael until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep and then sank back into a more comfortable position of his own, content to just sit there.

Jurgen had held Michael as the other man slept and at some point had fallen asleep himself. When he awoke it was to find Michael gone, but an aromatic scent in the air told Jurgen that he hadn’t gone far. He made his way into the kitchen to discover Michael making pancakes. A Michael who had showered and changed into freshly pressed, black jeans, black t-shirt and boots, and the cinnamon hair was combed and smoothed back from the beautiful face. Jurgen felt relief wash over him. Michael was back. But was he whole? That’s what worried Jurgen now. But he put a smile on his face as he greeted Michael. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Michael replied. “Help yourself to coffee.” He pointed to the pot on the corner of the counter.

“Thanks,” Jurgen replied, grabbing a white mug off the rack and filling it to the rim. “How do you feel?” he asked, as he dumped in a spoonful of sugar.

Michael turned to face Jurgen. “I’m......confused,” he confessed.

Jurgen nodded. That wasn’t surprising. “What about?” he prompted.

“Returning to Section? You know that your status hasn’t changed.”

“Not about that,” Michael countered. He had been told that by Operations after Medlab had finished with him. Remembering how thoroughly the doctors had poked and prodded him made Michael shiver even now. But he dispelled such thoughts to concentrate on what he was feeling now. “I’m confused about you....and Nikita,” Michael whispered, his eyes locked on Jurgen’s face.

“What about us?” Jurgen asked the question in a hoarse tone. He knew that this was the moment of truth and he wondered if he was ready for it.

Michael shook his head. “I’ve loved Nikita since she first came to Section One. I wanted to protect from the darkness. I failed.”

Jurgen put down his mug and went to Michael. Gently he placed both hands on Michael’s broad shoulders. “You didn’t fail,” he said firmly. “Nikita still has her soul.”

“For how long?” Michael shot back. He felt himself tremble in response to Jurgen’s touch. Partly out of remembered fears, and partly out of a stirring of desire. But mostly it was because he equated the other man’s touch with being safe, and secure. Of feeling....protected....in Jurgen’s arms. Michael took a step back, putting distance between them. He needed a clear head.

“What about me?” Jurgen prompted. “How do you feel about me, Michael?” When silence seemed to be his only answer, Jurgen turned to go. But felt a hand on his arm. When he turned back it was to see tears in Michael’s eyes. Then Jurgen held his breath as he watched Michael bend his head and a moment later a soft kissed was brushed against his lips.

Michael felt Jurgen’s tension and wondered if he was making a mistake. He made to pull back but froze when he heard Jurgen whisper no. Michael swallowed hard, and then he lifted his hands to cup Jurgen’s face. Eyes wide open, Michael looked into the other man’s soul as he kissed him again. This time with more certainty. Suddenly the fear was gone, replaced by desire.

“I want.......to feel......again,” Michael whispered, as he pressed kisses along Jurgen’s jaw line and over to his ear. He let his teeth nip the lobe, and then he licked a wet trail down the side of Jurgen’s neck. Once he was back at the other man’s mouth, Michael breathed, “Kiss me.”

“My pleasure,” Jurgen replied, as his hands lifted so that he could tangle his fingers in Michael’s thick hair. But he was careful to keep the emotion tender. He covered Michael’s mouth with his own and let his tongue dance into warm sweetness, but it wasn’t an invasion, rather an exploration. And as he kissed Michael, Jurgen felt Michael’s hands roam over his body. When they brushed over his crotch, Jurgen moaned. Pulling back to stare into Michael’s eyes, Jurgen asked, “Don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish,” he beseeched.

Michael smiled and for once it reached his eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” he whispered back, even as his hand slid inside the waist band of Jurgen’s jeans.

Jurgen found himself grabbing Michael’s wrist as fingers stroked him.

“No,” he said firmly, tugging Michael’s hand away.

“Why?” Michael countered, feeling hurt and confused. And he let it show in his eyes.

“Because....I don’t think you’re ready,” Jurgen replied, his eyes locking with Michael’s. He was remembering how he had used force....rape....to get Michael to feel again. And knowing that Vanderwood had sanctioned his men to rape Michael as well, Jurgen felt certain that the younger man wasn’t ready to deal with that aspect of sex yet. “You need time to heal, Michael,” Jurgen whispered.

Michael understood what Jurgen was saying but he didn’t back off. Rather, he freed his wrist then pressed himself against Jurgen’s body, backing the other man up till he hit the counter and was trapped. “I need you to heal me,” Michael whispered. And he had never been more certain of anything in his life.

Jurgen wanted to believe Michael, but he had doubts. “What about Nikita?” he challenged.

“I will always love her,” Michael breathed against Jurgen’s lips. “But not the way I love you. She can’t teach me to love myself......but you can, Jurgen. Because you understand me. You know what I need. You won’t try to change me, or punish me for being who...and what....I am. You’ll accept me and all my flaws.” Michael was throwing all the words that Jurgen has said to him in the past, back into his face. “Were you lying to me?” Michael queried.

“No,” Jurgen whispered, and a smile curved his lips. “I meant everything I said, Michael.” To prove it, Jurgen cradled Michael’s head in his hands and kissed him. It was a passionate kiss, and a hungry one. But not demanding. He could feel Michael respond and it made Jurgen feel giddy. He broke the kiss and asked, “What do you want from me?”

Michael laughed, deep in his throat. “I want you to love me,” he replied.

Jurgen swallowed hard. “Show me,” he commanded, and then he fell silent as Michael claimed his mouth in a soul shattering kiss.

The sound of a ringing phone drew Michael up out of sleep and for a moment he lay still, a bit disoriented by the feel of a warm body pressed against his. A shift of the body brought back the memory of last night and with it a smile.

Stretching an arm out Michael picked up the phone and said into it, “Hello.”

He drew in his breath as Jurgen snuggled up against him.

“Michael.” Operations’ voice in his ear and Michael suppressed a sigh, wanting nothing more than to hang up the phone and take it off the hook. ”Michael? You there?” demanded Operations.

“Yess....” It was half sigh of pleasure, half acknowledgement, as Jurgen’s mouth nuzzled at Michael’s throat.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m....fine.” Jurgen began trailing kisses down his shoulder. “What did you want?” It was as noncommittal a tone as he could manage.

“There’s a....situation that needs to be attended to....Are you listening to me?” said Operations stridently.

He nearly lost the phone as Jurgen nibbled on his rear. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Bring Jurgen with you.” snapped Operations.

Reaching across Michael’s shoulder, Jurgen pressed the disconnect button on the phone and Michael let it fall onto the carpeted floor as he pressed back against Jurgen, laughter bubbling out of him as he thought of what Operations would say if he knew what the two of them were doing as Michael was talking to him. They lay in each other’s arms for a long moment before Michael turned to face Jurgen, stroking damp blond hair back from his face.

“Need a shower before we go....” he said with a sigh, letting his fingers trace the line of Jurgen’s cheekbone.

Jurgen smiled wickedly. “I’ll wash your back.”

“Deal.”

Needless to say they were a little late to the briefing.

Michael and Jurgen returned from a successful mission. Once they had debriefed, they both headed for Michael’s office. To anyone watching they looked as they always did, professional and slightly aloof. But there was a twinkle in Michael’s silver-green eyes that he was hard put to suppress. Still, he maintained his control, until they reached his office. Nikita was there, curled up in the chair across from Michael’s desk.

She jumped up when she saw Michael enter the room, then bit back a sound of surprise to see Jurgen with him. Nikita watched looked at Michael. “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” Michael replied, as he moved to close the door.

“Alone,” Nikita said slowly, eyes flickering to Jurgen.

He made to leave but Michael cut him off. They exchanged looks and Jurgen nodded, remaining in the room.

Michael looked at Nikita. “I want him to stay.”

“I see,” Nikita drawled, and in that moment she believed she did. There was an obvious intimacy between Michael and Jurgen now that had nothing to do with sex. It was emotional, and it was a bond that she and Michael had never shared. Nikita squared her shoulders, and then took a deep breath. She was about to speak but waited when Michael held up one hand. He moved behind his desk to press a button inside a drawer. Nikita nodded, realizing that he was making the room secure. Then she spoke. “I wanted to see how you were,” Nikita whispered, telling only half the truth.

“I’m fine,” Michael replied, his standard answer. Only this time it was the truth. He moved to stand before Nikita, one hand lifting to smooth a lock of her pale hair out of her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here, Nikita,” he said softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

Nikita was surprised. “For what?” she countered.

Michael leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips, then he stepped back, moving to stand beside Jurgen. Where he belonged. “For saving me,” Michael replied. “For loving me when I couldn’t think of any reason to love myself. And....for letting go.” The last was spoken hopefully. Michael didn’t want to hurt Nikita, but she needed to know that he had made his choice and he wanted her to accept it.

“Well....you’re welcome, Michael,” Nikita drawled, as his meaning became perfectly clear. She had wanted him to choose between her and Jurgen and it was obvious that he had. And he had chosen well. Even Nikita could see that the barriers that Michael had built around his heart had shattered. His eyes were no longer masked, and there was an aura of serenity about him. He deserved that. But Nikita still felt hurt that she was not the one.

“I want to thank you too, Nikita,” Jurgen said, even as he slipped one arm around Michael’s waist, drawing the younger man into a casual embrace. He did it not to hurt Nikita, but to help her to understand that Michael had made the right choice.

Nikita swallowed hard as she watched Michael accept Jurgen’s touch with an ease that had never been apparent between them. In that moment it felt as if her heart was about to shatter, but she had too much pride to fall apart in front of Michael. Besides which, Nikita sensed that it would hurt him to see her that way, so she forced a smile even as she moved towards the door. “I’m happy for you,” Nikita said, and she locked eyes with Michael to prove that she meant it. And a part of her did. She wanted to see him happy, and it was obvious that Jurgen was the one with the power to do that. Not her. Pulling the door open, Nikita paused only long enough to whisper, “See you around, Michael.” Then she was gone.

“Nikita....” Michael breathed, and then he took a step only to be brought up short by Jurgen’s hand on his arm.

“Let her go, Michael,” Jurgen beseeched. “Make a clean break. It will easier for her...and for you.” He knew that Michael’s feelings for Nikita were still strong. But he also knew that Michael loved him. Knew it because the young man had whispered them in his ear as they stood in the shower, beneath the hot spray. In that aftermath of lovemaking, Michael had finally spoken his heart and Jurgen had wept with joy.

Turning to face Jurgen, Michael nodded. He knew that Nikita was strong and she would learn to accept his decision. But he hated knowing that he had hurt her. Yet, seeing the love that glowed in Jurgen’s eyes, Michael felt a warmth envelope him and he brushed a kiss over the other man’s lips. “I made the right choice,” Michael whispered.

Jurgen was pleased and kissed Michael back. “No regrets?” he prompted.

“No regrets,” Michael replied. Then he smiled and pushed Jurgen away from him. “Go away; I have a report to write.” Even as he spoke, Michael deactivated the security button then sat down behind his desk. He was still smiling as Jurgen winked at him and the smile remained as he switched on his computer. They would be together again tonight, and that made Michael feeling warm inside. Something he hadn’t felt since Simone’s, first, death almost five years ago. And even then it hadn’t felt like this. For the first time in his life, Michael felt....hope. And he was happy. And for the first time in his life, Michael believed he had the right to be happy. He remembered how he had whispered I love you to Jurgen this morning, and tears filled Michael’s eyes. Healing tears, for he knew that he was loved in return. Section would never allow him a normal life, but at least Michael would no longer have to face the future alone.

THE END.