This story is set sometime after Maddy's few-day break, following the events of "Psychic Pilgrim." Part 1 is a character study; Part 2 is Madeline's profile of Nikita's effect on Section One. I'd rate it MA-14 for descriptions of violence and sex. Part 1--it should be noted, as well--is especially downbeat. The whole story is pretty heavy on the speculation, too. It includes spoilers for "Psychic Pilgrim" and "Gambit." No infringement of any sort is intended with the following.

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Whenever she spent an hour staring at her plants, she knew the facade was cracking. That was unacceptable. . . . She had spent too many years of her life building it.

Madeline took a deep breath and slowly turned to walk back to her desk. The last several weeks had been difficult ones. The news of her mother's final decline had brought back memories she hadn't prepared herself to face. She ran her hand unconsciously along her desk, as she approached her chair. She wondered if she was still strong enough to do this.

Madeline finally sat but continued looking at her plants. It wasn't her ability to do her job which troubled her; she had full confidence in herself there. . . . No. It was her ability to live this life she had unconsciously chosen which worried her.

It had been Gregor Kessler who had first made her recognize this problem. She had tucked away her memories of that terrible, last day with her sister, until he had used them to taunt her. Sometimes, consciously, before then, she had even forgotten it--had forgotten the event which had come to define her life.

Kessler had known, though--had brought back to her that horrible day: two little girls at the top of a flight of stairs, fighting over a doll. She could still remember the way Sarah looked, as her little body tumbled down the stairs, twisting as it went. . . . She hadn't screamed--Sarah did, at least till about half-way down, but not Madeline. . . . No. She had simply watched her sister die.

Madeline blinked. Then, to stop her mind from replaying the images again, she began visually tracing the petals of one of her orchids. . . . She still wasn't certain whether she had pushed Sarah or not. She had tried to remember, but that part of the event was always a blur; she couldn't focus on it. . . . She suspected, however, that may be because she didn't want to. . . . Perhaps she was better off not knowing.

Still, the choice had been made then . . . maybe two days later. It was at Sarah's funeral, actually. Partly, she realized now, the choice hadn't been hers. During the two days from the incident to the funeral, everyone seemed to look at her as though she were marked by the devil. Some had tried to hide it, certainly, but she could remember no one approaching her without at least a bit of either fear or recrimination in their eyes.

She tried to look back on her actions before then, while still mentally tracing the orchid. She hadn't been a bad child, really. Rebellious--yes, a bit selfish--no doubt; all children were, to an extent. Still, she hadn't really been a problem before then.

Sarah and she had never been particularly close, though. They were too near each other in age, and Madeline had always been a bit resentful of how everyone coddled her younger sister. It was a classic case of sibling rivalry. Had Sarah had the chance to grow up, they might well have grown out of it.

That one day had defined everything, though. Madeline sighed softly and looked down at her desk. She wondered for the thousandth time now what her life would have been like had she not chosen this path. If she had given herself the benefit of the doubt--had allowed herself to believe that event might have been accidental, would she be where she was now? Would she have made the decisions which had led her here? She looked up at the plants again. . . . No. She would have been very different.

She had tried, once or twice, to picture what she might have been, had she taken that other road. The image she always came up with, though, was Nikita. . . .

The young woman was strong but could be compassionate; she was extremely intelligent and logical but could still feel deeply. . . . It was what Madeline wished she could have been, in many ways.

It didn't matter, though. Madeline sighed. Her decision had begun forming from the moment her mother had looked up at her from Sarah's body. From the moment she had perceived the look in her mother's eyes as horror at her living daughter, everything had begun to change.

It had been at the funeral, however, that it had become irreversible. As they had sat at the graveside under the rain-soaked canopy, her mother had kept silently mouthing Sarah's name. When Madeline had tried to touch her arm, her mother had shivered. . . . It had only been recently that Madeline had realized that her mother had probably never even felt the touch of her small hand through her thick coatsleeve.

Madeline allowed herself to lean back in her chair. The young girl she had been then had had no way of understanding just how momentous that lack of recognition would be. It had led, though, to her determination to carry out her new role as the bad seed, as the child touched by demons. She had learned mind games and betrayals, had completely destroyed anyone who tried to touch her heart.

It hadn't been a very big leap from there to Section One, really. In fact, she had been a bit of a Section prodigy--enjoying the wanton destruction and pain she had now been free to cause. She had been discriminating, though; she only killed who she was supposed to. She had never gone against orders, never allowed the ones in charge to think her unstable.

She had been best known in those early days, however, for her seduction work. She could profile any target and become their heart's desire. She had even enjoyed some of the missions; not all of their targets, after all, were sexually inept. None of them, though, had made any dent in the hard casing she had wrapped around her heart.

She had moved along well in Section, really, gaining experience in most of its important areas. There had come a point, though, somewhere in her mid- thirties, when she realized that she needed to start planning her future. Her days on seduction missions were numbered, after all; Section could be every bit as patriarchal as the outside world. Neither one much understood beauty in women over thirty, much less over forty. Just as in the society outside it, Section saw its men get "distinguished"; its women simply got "old."

That didn't mean, however, that there weren't other jobs for them, and Madeline had had every intention of having one. In order to make certain, though, she had needed an ally. Who better, then, than Section's new leader?

Madeline's relationship with Operations had been a calculated move on her part. It wasn't that she had no fondness for him, all these years later, but she had seen him more as job insurance in those early days.

It wasn't enough to just seduce him, however. He was more than capable of finding sexual partners on his own. No, she had needed to aim deeper--at his psychological needs.

Madeline had recognized in Operations, early on, a lack of understanding of love; it was a lack she shared. For him, love was either duty or need. His wife had been duty; Madeline became need. After a while, he didn't remember what it was like not having her nearby for an insight or profile. . . . On a personal level, she satisfied desires he wasn't aware he had; it was intoxicating for him.

Madeline was not devoid of feeling, though, and she was not without emotion for Section's chief. She cared about him, in a detached sort of way. She had no problem, either, being the power behind the throne. She had no real desire to rule; it was far too time-consuming and rather dull. She infinitely preferred being allowed to play her mind games.

She sighed and punched in a command on her terminal. This situation had worked very well, in fact, until recently. Now, however, Section had a problem --not one which had to be particularly dealt with, but one which had thrown an unusual quirk into its normally smooth patterns. It could be summed up in one complex little word: Nikita.

***********

A few minutes later, Madeline smiled at Christopher, as he brought the tea she had ordered. She poured herself a cup, as he left, and then resumed her train of thought.

Nikita was a fascinating conundrum. She always had been, but her influence lately was spreading. Over the past several months, it sometimes seemed that the whole of Section was under her spell. It certainly hadn't started out that way. At first, she had simply been a distraction for Michael--a bit like giving a puppy to a bereaved child. Still, even then, her effects on him had been intriguing.

It had been Madeline's suggestion that Michael be forced to pick and train a new recruit. He hadn't reacted to Operations' decision to cancel his wife--by handing her over to Sparks--quite as the older man had hoped. Simone had become a distraction for Michael. He and his wife had reacted to Section's various, sometimes--admittedly--emotionally difficult, assignments by clinging more closely to each other. Michael, though, had been too valuable to lose; getting rid of Simone had been their only choice.

Simone's assumed death, though, hadn't really brought Michael back to them. He had been following his orders, certainly, but he had closed himself down; he had been running on automatic. They had needed his mind back, needed to know that he wouldn't find an excuse to get himself killed; Madeline's plan had seemed like their best option.

He had resisted her order at first, however; he had had no desire to invest himself in anyone new. When it had become clear that he had no choice in the matter, however, he had reluctantly agreed.

His choice had been intriguing to Madeline. To this day, she was unsure exactly what had motivated it. It hadn't been simply sexual; Michael was too lost in grief to notice any woman physically. Besides, in all the years she had known him, she had only ever seen him truly aroused by one person--Simone. She doubted that the crime the girl had been convicted of had had much to do with it, either. . . . She had no way of knowing that it was the spark Michael had seen in her eyes which had caught him--the fire in them which hinted at so many emotions he no longer felt capable of.

It had become obvious to her fairly quickly that Michael was deeply connected to his new material. Madeline continued sipping her tea. In those early days, though, Michael was really the only person Nikita had particularly affected--even if he had tried to hide his emotions from himself.

Since her return from her supposed imprisonment by the Freedom League, however, everyone seemed to be following her, unintentional, lead. It was actually right after her assumed cancellation that her effect had become evident. Parts of Section had seemed to go into mourning; at least half of the operatives had been affected.

In some, though, the changes had been even more evident. The open, unspoken hatred which had flowed toward Michael--especially from Walter and Birkoff--could be stifling. Michael had seemed almost unaware, though. He had simply ceased to exist. He hadn't even been running on automatic; there had been no one left inside him. The outer shell that had been left was merely a trick of the light.

Madeline had been happy when Nikita had returned. It seemed that things might finally return to normal. Instead, however--even though Nikita was now following Section's orders more regularly, the influence of her compassion was spreading like a virus.

Everyone seemed affected, lately. Birkoff and Walter had begun forming a friendship, and Birkoff had even tried to protect Walter's new lover by changing her abeyance records. Michael, too, had helped protect two young children at Nikita's request and had even wasted valuable time to search for their parents, all in the middle of a mission; he had tried to rationalize it during debrief, of course, but it had been obvious that he had simply been responding to Nikita's compassion.

The most surprising change, though, was to be seen in Operations. Ever since Nikita had helped save his life--and Section--by trapping Petrosian, going against her own immediate self-interest to do so, Section's chief had been trying to win her respect.

Madeline smiled wryly and poured herself some more tea. It was an odd change to watch. It had only been about a year, after all, since Operations had ordered Nikita's death. Now, he was constantly trying to get her to understand his reasoning.

He was still, however, trying to eliminate Nikita's compassion, but he was failing miserably. It was, in fact, working the other way around. Only a few days ago, for instance, he had ordered the release of a child he would have cancelled a few months ago; Nikita's influence was telling on him.

He didn't fully understand what he was doing, Madeline was sure. It wasn't a wholly conscious decision which had led him to put Nikita on track to one day have far greater power in the Section. It was where she had always been heading, of course--Madeline knew, but Operations was only now coming to understand this fact.

Madeline set down her cup, thinking. Most of Nikita's effect on him wasn't particularly dangerous, but there had been one incident lately where it had been harmful. Operations' decision to follow his emotions by calling off Michael, by any means necessary--when Madeline had been abducted, had been a dangerous precedent.

Madeline had understood the young operative's unconscious influence on Section's leader. She had taken out her anger, therefore, on the younger woman --after she had acted to save Madeline, Michael, and the mission--unable to fully confront Operations. With Section's chief, she had simply pulled back, cutting off any non-work relationship. He couldn't be allowed to put Section at risk again. She looked down at her desk, thinking. All in all, Nikita wasn't a problem; her compassion was no longer getting in her way, as it once had. So long as her effect on her colleagues didn't compromise Section's goals again, Madeline actually found her influence rather interesting to watch.

She sighed and turned to her computer, punching in codes to access the material she was looking for. It had been a few days since Michael and Nikita's last mission together, days Madeline had taken off. She only now had the chance to review the tapes.

When the mission against Armel had been forming, Madeline had allowed Michael to pick his companion for it. If she had had any doubt who his choice would be, however, she wouldn't have allowed it. She had wanted to see the two of them in this situation; she had theories to test.

Madeline had ordered Michael, before the mission began, to have sex with Nikita during the course of it, to keep things believable. She had been distracted by the situation with her mother, while the mission was ongoing, however, and hadn't been able to keep track. By the time Michael and Nikita had briefly come back in, though, she had been assured by Birkoff that Michael had not followed this instruction.

Madeline watched selected fragments of the mission tapes now, assessing them. Michael had made overtures a few times, apparently, but he had always backed off immediately when Nikita rebuffed him. . . . Interesting.

Madeline had wanted to know, originally, who would initiate any intimate contact between the pair. She had started by ordering Michael to see if they were still functioning as trainer and recruit. Evidently, though, they weren't.

Michael, of course, Madeline remembered, had always been protective of Nikita. Madeline had suggested several times during Nikita's first two years that he should train his new material for complete seduction work. He had found excuses not to every time, though, despite his very obvious attraction to her.

Evidently, he had no intention of changing that pattern now.

Madeline, however, had tried another angle--giving Nikita the order instead. While the younger woman had obviously been a bit taken aback by this command, she hadn't refused.

Madeline found the recording of that night now. Michael had resisted Nikita's suggestion at first, probably--Madeline suspected--because he was unsure whether she was truly willing or whether she was simply following orders.

She smiled, as she watched the tape. Once Michael had assessed Nikita's willingness and had agreed, he had taken control of the experience, although he had Nikita's obvious consent. That dominance certainly wasn't unusual for him. The tape of that night was fascinating. While the coupling Madeline saw was not violent, it was also far from gentle. Michael, too, was obviously still conscious of the cameras early on--having had more experience with them, as he kept Nikita's body covered by either himself or a blanket at all times. The way he did it was subtle enough to not be obvious to Armel's paid watchers, but it was blatant to Madeline. . . . He was still trying to protect his former recruit. It seemed, too, that--despite the situation--he was attempting to keep the act as private as possible.

Madeline pondered the relative roughness of the act in front of her. Whereas, in some cases, such actions might denote a lack of deeper affection, she was convinced that was not the case here. . . . No. In fact, by several minutes into it, it was obvious that neither of the operatives were thinking about the cameras at all; she suspected, indeed, that they were unaware of anything outside of the other. They didn't seem to simply be lost in each other's bodies, either; they were lost in each other as a whole.

Madeline thought back to past experience with Michael, as she watched. When he and Simone had been together, although there was practically a library of mission tapes of the two of them engaged in various sexual acts, she had only once seen them make love, and--then--they had been unaware of the camera. It seemed, then, to be a pattern with Michael. He would perform with women he felt some deeper connection to in a very physical manner; the more emotionally- based acts he refused to willingly let anyone watch.

Madeline fast-forwarded the recording a bit; otherwise, she would be watching all day. Her theory was being borne out. . . . There was nothing tentative or awkward in Michael and Nikita's coupling; they, in fact, seemed quite comfortable with each other's bodies. That, added to the relative roughness of the act led her to an inevitable conclusion. . . . This was not their first time together. Madeline was sure that Michael would be far gentler with Nikita the first time, partly for emotional reasons--partly out of fear of losing her trust.

She blinked and ran back the recording to a much earlier point, where Michael seemed to be holding himself back somewhat, apparently afraid of allowing his passion for Nikita to fully show itself--for fear of accidentally hurting her.

Nikita, however--although both of them were cleverly whispering into the ears which didn't have links behind them, was obviously goading him on; there was no fear at all, on her part. . . . It was, in fact, the most trust Madeline had ever seen in the young operative--especially toward Michael.

Madeline almost turned off the tape but then decided to run it the fair way forward to the climax of that evening. She watched it, smiled, and then turned off the recording. She had wanted the two of them together on this mission, and she rather enjoyed their obvious emotions for each other; she was glad it had seemed worthwhile for them.

They were lovers, then. The level of comfort and trust between them on the recording made that indisputable. How long had that been going on, though? It couldn't have been too long; while they were far more comfortable than new lovers would be, an experienced eye could clearly tell that they were still unfamiliar enough with each other's bodies to have yet to fall into patterns or routines. Fortunately, your average terrorist-hired voyeur, such as Armel's men, were not well-trained enough to see this.

Madeline continued pondering. When had this relationship begun? It certainly hadn't before Nikita's supposed cancellation; there had been *far* too much tension between them then. Madeline couldn't really think of much opportunity for them since Nikita's return, however. . . . That really only left one option. She smiled. She loved being right.

She punched a few buttons to rearchive the recording and leaned back in her chair. . . . Nikita was unconsciously creating interesting situations in every direction lately. She was glad Operations had come to approve, generally, of the younger operative; it kept Madeline from having to defend her quite so much. Still, there were certain things he didn't need to know.

Michael *had* helped Nikita escape Operations' wrath a year ago, then, and had also helped bring her back in. Sometime during those missing six months, as well, they had become lovers. Madeline looked thoughtful. It must have been toward the end of that time; Michael's absolute desolation during most of it seemed to argue that he hadn't always been aware of her survival. She smiled. Although she suspected that they were not together on any sort of regular basis, it explained the growing closeness--along with much of the discord--she had sensed between them, as well as the havoc which Michael had caused to several missions following Nikita's return, in order to cover their tracks.

Madeline sighed, contentedly. She still had a fondness for Nikita, despite the younger operative's coup attempt a few months ago; she still saw her as what she herself could have been. Michael, too, had always been a favorite of hers. . . . This was going to continue to be an intriguing partnership to watch.

Madeline smiled, pleased that her deductive skills had proven accurate once again, and then began working on reports, wondering what interesting new dilemmas Nikita would unknowingly bring in her wake in the future.

[The End]

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