For those of you who suffered through the birth of this story, many thanks. And for a special lady, I would like to lead into this story with a magnificent poem she wrote in honor of the final completion of Unlocking Michael.

Section One property

Somewhere, VA

0700 hours

March 27, 1998

"Michael, heads up!" Birkoff almost screamed over the com-set. "We have an unknown on premises. Can't make out just what you have out there, but the unknown is three klics to your south east and moving about 6 to 7 miles and hour."

Michael stopped in his tracks and adjusted his glasses. "Com-set active on two way. You should have visual in 3, 2, and 1 ..."

"I have visual, com-set clear." He confirmed. "Unknown is not hot. Do you want me to notify Operations?"

"Not yet, Birkoff. Let me identify." Michael moved through the wooded area with a cat's grace and silence, shifting visual range, looking for the unknown.....something. He came across a two track and simultaneously heard and saw.... someone on horseback.

"What the hell..." Birkoff responded, and before Michael could react the horse spotted him, threw on the brakes, came up on hind legs and then did a complete roll back the other direction. The rider, though balanced through the sudden stop did not make the turn with the horse. Michael was helpless to stop the coming action. Birkoff watched on visual with him as the rider left the horse and was slung with a great deal of force directly sideways into a large tree. The distinctive snap of bone accompanied the impact as the rider hit the tree about six feet off the ground.

Over the com-set all Michael heard was a loud, "WOW!" from Birkoff before he went into action. The horse had stopped, going no further than 10 feet the other direction. Michael dropped his field pack and assault rifle, then crossed to the rider quickly.

"Man, oh man, is she alive?" Birkoff's question hung in the air as he observed Michael checking out what was now obviously a female.

"I have a pulse." Michael carefully checked and discovered what caused the snapping sound. "Broken collar bone, " he announced as he rolled the girl gently to her back.. "Get Walter out here with the ATV and a board. Better send some pain meds, too."

"On the way, Michael. Now do I notify Ops?"

"No Birkoff. That won't be necessary. " He continued his examination with a scanner.

Suddenly a familiar voice came over his com-set. "Michael, it is best to cancel and sanitize. We take no chances that way."

"Is that an order?" Michael continued not waiting for an answer, "There are no weapons, no audio or visual devices, and I have scanned for tracking devices as well. There is nothing. I suggest we hold in abeyance until we determine the status of this individual."

"Very well, this will be your headache. See it doesn't become mine or the Sections."

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

Crouched beside the girl, Michael took a better physical inventory: small frame - 5'2" at the most; brunette, probably in her late twenties, freckles across her nose (most obvious because she was so pale), full generous lips...altogether a nice visual package. He shook his head unable to make sense of the whole scenario. A woman riding a horse.... him on a routine conditioning run.....CRASH! A coincidence?

Birkoff broke the silence, "How's she doing Michael?"

"Still breathing. Still unconscious." He answered in his usual succinct manner. "You do have Walter on the way?"

"That's confirmed. I sent Tallie with him. He'll deal with the horse."

Michael glanced from the girl to the animal. The horse must be well trained. He hadn't moved a step in the last 5 minutes. Suddenly, the girl made a low moan and moved her left hand slowly to her right shoulder, wincing, but still not opening her eyes.

"Miss," Michael spoke softly as he reached for her left hand, and continued, "Don't move, I have help on the way. You've broken your collarbone. Let me remove your helmet. Perhaps you'll be more comfortable." He gently released the clasp and as he slid the helmet slowly off her head, a profusion of golden brown curls spilled out. " I think you should be grateful for this helmet. It cracked against the tree instead of your head." Her eyes fluttered open and he saw dark brown eyes trying to focus. "Can you tell me your name?"

In the barest whisper, causing Michael to lean forward to hear, she said, "Key. My name is Key. I'm..."

Michael placed two fingers gently on her lips and said, "No more for now."

She shook her head slowly, still trying to focus. "Lost....I don't know how." She paused, then she did focus on his face and even through her pain she saw eyes - so green - but so masked. "My horse?" She managed to choke out.

Michael silenced her again. "He's right down the trail. Very close. He knows you're hurt and has not strayed." She heard some kind of accent to his words, but from where? He continued, "Now please don't be alarmed. I'll see to everything."

He glanced up as he heard Walter and Tallie approaching with the ATV, then looked to the horse to see if he might be frightened by the noise. When the horse didn't move, he returned his attention to the girl.

"Who are you?" Key pushed for more information, her throat was so dry and the pain.....almost unbearable. She clasped the hand holding hers tightly and tried to communicate her need for an answer.

She heard someone else say, "Michael." Her question answered for now. Then he gestured to the person with his other hand to come forward. "Just relax now. You're safe."

As she faded in and out of consciousness, she heard fragments of conversation, words like 'government', 'section', 'brought the medication', then she felt a prick in her arm and everything went black.

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

0800 hours

March 28, 1998

"Michael?"

"Yes, Madeline." Michael looked up from working on the computer at his desk.

"Our guest is asking for you", she continued with a little half smile, "Actually, she's demanding to see you."

"What is the smile about Madeline?"

"I don't think you have any idea what you have gotten into with this one." Madeline shook her head.

Michael rose and they left his office and moved down the hall slowly. "Is that the information Birkoff has developed on Miss York?" He gestured at the file she was holding.

"Yes," Madeline hesitated for a moment, then continued, "and it's very interesting."

Michael took the file and began looking through. "And....any anomalies?"

"Yes again. Quit a few actually. Several that can't be explained without Miss York's help."

Michael stopped, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He hid his surprise. "Please briefly apprise me, I'll read through this information more closely after we speak." They both resumed walking.

"Our Miss York is a licensed veterinarian in the state of Missouri. We know where she was born, went to school and college. Her parents are deceased. No extended family. That much we know is true, however; there is a space of three years completely unaccounted for. This occurs within her 21st to 24th year. NO RECORDS. Nothing. Our guest is presently 33 years old."

"This is perhaps something she can explain easily."

"That's the least unusual part of the puzzle."

Now Michael was truly intrigued. "Go on...."

"Our medical personnel set Miss York's collar bone. They also did a thorough exam to determine if she had anymore injuries. She, in fact, has two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and several minor cuts and bruises."

They stopped again, this time in front of the door to the medical room housing Miss York. "Why do I think that's not the unusual part?"

As Michael looked through the one way window, Madeline continued, "Miss York was discovered to be wearing contact lens, and not to correct her vision. They were designed to cosmetically change her eye color from blue to brown. Miss York is also not a natural brunette. Her natural color appears to auburn."

Michael did not stop observing the young woman, but asked, "And how did we determine that piece of the puzzle?"

"Really, Michael." Madeline paused, "Think about it."

A slight, but momentary look of amusement crossed Michael's face and he said, "Yes, I suppose there are some things you can't change, or don't bother to."

"Precisely." Madeline continued, "She has had extensive facial reconstructive surgery. Her nose, chin and cheekbones have been altered, as have the shape of her eyes and lips. It would be very difficult to assimilate a picture of her previous facial structure. Not closely enough for Birkoff to do a facial match on the computer."

"Interesting. Perhaps Miss York is not as innocent as she appears."

"Well, I wish you luck. This is certainly an intriguing mystery. You know Operations will want a full briefing as soon as possible." She added, " He was very disappointed you ignored his suggestion to cancel her and then do a cleanup."

"Things did appear to be non threatening at the time." Michael turned and looked at Madeline. "Sometimes you get tired of the killing if it's something random and not connected to a mission."

"I too hope this does not have to evolve into a cancellation. But....you should be prepared."

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

The door opened and Key looked up to see Michael, dressed completely in black, looking very business like. At that moment just the sight of him made her blood boil.

"There you are, you son of a bitch. You get me out of here. I'm a US citizen and I have rights. This is not a hospital, and I don't know what you drugged me with out there in the woods, but I want some answers." She paused for a breath; "I want to know what you did with my horse. I want to make a phone call. I want my clothes....." her voice was rising with each demand and she was trying desperately to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed, but collapsed back in pain. " If this really is a government installation," she pointed her finger at him, " you write me a ticket for trespassing and get me out of here!"

"Miss York," Michael began in his level but controlled tone, "If you'll calm down, I can try to address your concerns."

Key mumbled, "You better do that, Bub." And she turned an equally cold look his direction.

Michael's voice caught for just a moment - no one that didn't know him would have given thought to the silent hesitation - but now he locked eyes with her and he found himself looking into not just average, ordinary blue eyes. Her eyes were almost a violet color, most unusual, very beautiful, and very alive.

"Kathleen..." he began and she immediately interrupted.

"Look I told you my name is Key. I prefer to be addressed that way. I'm sure you know my full name by now, Kathleen Elizabeth York. Well, that's K.E.Y. for short."

"Very well, Key, I want you to know that we will do everything we can to make you comfortable." He made a sweeping gesture directed at the room "This is a medical facility. You'll receive excellent care. You have broken your collarbone as we first suspected, but you have also broken some ribs and fractured your wrist."

"Well good for me," Her sarcasm hung in the air. "Just give me a phone. I'll call someone to pick me up. I'll make arrangements for the horse, and we'll both be out of your hair."

"I'm afraid we can not oblige you with a phone." He noticed a downshift in her anger by locking eyes again. " If you'll tell me the name and number of someone to call, I'll notify them on your behalf." He paused, "Do you have family, perhaps a husband or parents we can call?"

Key did not believe this. She was utterly blown away by this man. He was speaking in soft measured tones without emotion, no expression or voice inflection. It was like her situation was totally normal to him.

"You are joking...Right?" Key looked at him for any kind of confirmation. "This is just a big joke. You can't keep me here against my will - that would be kidnapping."

"No, Miss York, I deeply regret, especially due to your distress, that I'm not joking, as you put it. This is a covert government facility. Not only were you trespassing, you were very deep into our compound. There are many things that will have to be worked out before you are released." He ended this silently in his head with 'If you are released.'

"What about my horse - where is he? You better not have hurt him."

Michael walked to a video screen in the corner of the room and punched a button. It showed a view of her horse.

"As you can see, we've made him comfortable in a stall. He's being fed and cared for. You need not worry."

Key shook her head like she was trying to wake up. This is a bad dream. It's got to be. She felt like Dorothy and she wasn't in Kansas anymore.

"Look Mister..."

"Michael, will do."

"All right Michael," she was quickly tiring. He saw it in her face. "I'm not from Virginia, but you probably know that. I'm staying at a local farm, training for an endurance race with my horse. The farm is called Irish Meadows. The people that own the farm are wealthy and I don't really know them that well. They sponsor some of my expenses through their equine foundation. You can call the barn manager, her name is Carol."

"We will make an attempt to contact this Irish Meadows farm. Now you must rest." He looked at her and added, "Is there any thing you require for your comfort?"

Key looked up at him. His eyes.....they were green, no gray, or maybe a mixture. That wasn't the whole of it though. His eyes held no warmth. None whatsoever. She looked away unable or unwilling to hold his gaze.

"I would like another blanket. I'm cold, and maybe you could find me something warmer to wear than these cotton scrubs?"

He gestured at someone in the background and before she knew it, he was handed a blanket. He spread this over her and responded, "I'll work on obtaining the clothing you requested. Anything else, Miss York?" He asked, and prepared to leave.

She didn't bother to correct him this time about her name. "Tell them no more pain meds. I don't want anything narcotic."

He blinked, focused all that inhuman control and added, "Surely you would rest better with something to ease you discomfort."

Key looked at him, now ready to meet his disturbing stillness, thinking at the same time she had no intention of making this easier for them by being drugged out of her mind. "No. Just aspirin or ibuprofen is fine. I'd rather look and feel human since no one else in this godforsaken place appears to be."

She almost regretted the remark, but he just stared at her with those blank eyes and turned to leave the room.

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

1300 hours

March 28, 1998

"You wanted to see me?"

Operations turned from his computer and looked up at Michael. " Yes, I want to know how our guest is and what we know other than Birkoff's report, along with the medical findings."

"She has no family to contact. That matches our information. Her story about training for this endurance race appears to be true." He paused and his eyes shifted around the room and back, "I've had her things gathered from the farm where she was staying. Explanations have been made to the proper parties."

"You don't think she is someone's attempt at infiltration?" he asked with interest.

"No." Michael answered confidently. "My impressions are not of danger or deception. Quite the opposite... I think she has masked a wealth of fear with anger and defiance." He quickly added, "However, it is not safe to assume anything at this time."

"I want this resolved. You have a grasp on this situation, so take the time you need. I'll change your status and put you on stand by." He finished with, "Any mission that needs a specialized team will still require your presence."

"As you wish." Michael turned to leave and Operations stopped him.

"Michael, " he said pointedly, "From what you have told me, our guest needs someone to trust. I think you can handle that?"

"Yes...you're correct. I can and will."

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

1730 hours

March 28, 1998

Key tried to eat some of the meal provided to her by yet another robot like individual. No one would answer her questions. She finally pushed the tray away. 'Can't even eat,' she thought. The food provided required the use of both hands, and rather than make a mess she just gave up.

At that moment, the door hissed open and in walked Michael. He was holding what appeared to be a sweat suit. 'Yippee," she thought, 'Another exciting round of conversation with ghost man.'

"Good afternoon." He nodded toward her tray of food, "I see no one has realized you can not eat that kind of menu one handed."

She hid her surprise at his observation, but then she knew with certainty he didn't miss much...if anything. "Yea, well, some finger food would be better, hamburger and french fries maybe?"

"That will be arranged. I apologize." He paused beside the bed, "I have something warmer here for you to wear. They may be a little big."

"Just so they're warm. This place is cold," she mumbled, "in more ways than one."

Michael just lifted an eyebrow at her statement and continued, "Would you like some assistance with these? I'm sure dressing one handed is a bit awkward."

"Sure." Key sat up, threw back the blanket and swung bare legs over the bedside. She was clad at the moment in just a cotton tee shirt and panties. Michael saw not only the fact that she was in good physical condition, but also she had all the right curves in all the right places. Not something he usually indulged in observing.

He took the sweat pants, gathered them to the ankle and slid one small foot through, then repeated the action for her other foot. Key reached for his arm so she could slide off the bed to stand and pull up the pants. Before she could react, strong hands spanned her waist and lifted her to the floor. Michael released her, and she pulled the drawstring on the sweats to secure them, muttering, 'thanks.'

"I suppose this should have had a zipper in front." Michael held up a large gray sweatshirt, which would swallow her small frame. "Can we do this?" he looked at her questioningly.

"I think so," she started fumbling with a buckle and Velcro, "Let's unhook this shoulder harness thing. They have my wrist stabilized and my ribs are wrapped pretty tight."

"Here," Michael stopped her, "Let me." He gently moved her hand out of the way and started working to loosen the harness. "Are you in much pain?" He questioned and looked down at her, those strange greenish, gray eyes searching hers.

"That depends on your definition of pain, Michael." She let out a gasp as he now freed her from the supporting harness, and after a conspicuous gulp she continued, "I'd say it's at a tolerable level."

"You would?" Michael could not help but admire the defiant manner she had employed to hide her fear. He couldn't blame her for the bravado she had displayed so far, even if it was false. "Let's get this over your head and then get your arms situated."

It was a bit of a struggle, and not a pain free one at that, but worth it in the end because she was finally warm. "This is yours?" she asked, smelling the shirt and knowing the answer. His scent was there, very male, very basic....earthy.

"Yes, I did not have time to look through your things for something appropriate." He dropped that little bomb and went on, "I hope these are comfortable."

Key snapped her head up, as she has been looking at her bare feet, wishing for socks. "My things?" Her tone was condemning and questioning at the same time. "What do you mean, my things?"

"I contacted the owners of Irish Meadows and made apologies for you regarding your sudden disappearance. I explained you had a personal emergency and needed to withdraw from the upcoming endurance race."

"And just exactly who did you tell them you were, Mr. Bigshot." The sarcasm rolled off her tongue.

"Wouldn't you like to get back in the bed?" He changed the subject. "It would perhaps be more comfortable to have this conversation while you can rest." He said that in such an infuriatingly calm manner. "This may take a while. I have many questions." Michael gestured to the hospital bed and started to help her up the same way he helped her down.

That hit her switch, and with a fire building rapidly, Key slapped his hands away with her free one. Then she slid past him and across the room, placing some distance between them before she began her verbal tirade. "Who did you tell them you were?"

"I introduced myself as Dr. Brian Keegan, a colleague of yours from the University Veterinary School in Missouri." He turned and looked at her across the room. "You do know him?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes I know him." Her voice was rising now and she started pacing. "You know I do, and you also know he's out of the country for the next six weeks. So you probably know these people aren't going to check any further. You have it all figured out. I told you this was kidnapping." Key stopped pacing and now turned her back to Michael and faced the wall. "Can't you just turn me over to someone...."

Michael interrupted, "Someone?" His voice was still calm, deadly even. He continued to speak as he walked over and positioned himself behind Key, "You have a suggestion as to who this someone should be?"

Key placed her left hand against the wall bracing herself. Sudden chills started up her spine, and ended at the back of her neck where his breath had moved the hair curling around her ear. "I meant someone less secretive..." She trailed off again.

"Let's discuss secrets, Miss York." Michael shifted into a more intimidating role. Still standing behind her speaking low and controlled he went for the heart of the matter. He decided the trust thing was going to take too long with this one, and for some reason his patience had come grinding to a halt. "Tell me about why you're hiding your true eye color and hair color." He noticed she straightened with a small, but imperceptible jerk and he pursued his advantage, "And how would you explain the extensive reconstructive surgery you have had done to your face?"

The silence seemed like an eternity, then she turned slowly, backed up against the wall and looked directly at those cold, hard, ice colored eyes. "You don't know?" She questioned, "I would think with all your vast resources you would have all the answers." she paused then added, "Am I mistaken?' A slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she gave a small disgusted snort, "What I've done to change my appearance is absolutely none of your business." She pushed past Michael and got back in the hospital bed.

Michael didn't even turn around. The only reaction he had was the nearly undetectable clenching and unclenching of his hands. He headed for the door and exited. Unbeknownst to him, Birkoff and Walter had observed the entire confrontation.

"You owe me ten bucks." Walter stated gleefully, while clasping Birkoff on the shoulder and looking at the video screen.

"How did you know she was going to win round two?" Birkoff was amazed.

"I'm a great judge of character.... And this young lady has grit." He paused and smiled, "But the most important part of this equation is she lost Round One."

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

2230 hours

March 28, 1998

That evening, Michael was at his apartment rethinking his afternoon conversation (or confrontation) with Key. After several hours of good, hard, physical activity in the Section's gym, his temper had abated. Now he needed to solve the mystery of who she was, and quickly.

The three years of her life that could not be accounted for would be the means of access to her psyche. Once he had that knowledge, he had his edge. How many times would he go through this file before.... suddenly a thought occurred to him and he grabbed his cell phone, hitting auto dial.

"Birkoff," he could barely control his excitement, "I need you to look up something."

Birkoff groaned, "Michael, I'm off duty. Can't you call someone else at the Section?"

"No, this is about our guest, and since you and Walter have shown such and interest..."

"You know we've been watching?" he asked in disbelief.

Michael laughed, "No, Birkoff, I didn't know...but now I do."

"Oh crap....," he trailed off, then in a voice consigned to doing what Michael wanted, he said. "Okay, what do you need?"

"I want you to make your way into the files of the US Witness Protection Program. Check for anything that might remotely look, sound or feel like it involves our guest during that three years we can't pin down."

"Yeah! That's it Michael! Why didn't I think of it." He was almost shouting over the phone. "The information we already have fits the protocol they use. Wanna bet someone didn't finish building her new identity?" He finally took a breath, " Man, will they be in trouble."

"Do this as quickly and as surreptitious as possible. I think the US Marshal's office is in charge of WP." He paused, then added with emphasis, "NO red flags, and don't set off any alarms."

"I'm on it now, Michael."

Michael terminated the call, leaned his head back on the couch and rested his eyes. 'This has got to be what we are looking for,' he thought. Somehow the witness protection thing made sense. If it was the answer, his gut told him things were going to get a lot more complicated. Miss York, if that's who she was, will not be pleased.

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

0700 hours

March 30, 1998

Michael entered through the left wing door to the conference room. Madeline, Operations, Walter, Tallie and Birkoff were all present. He took a position, still standing, near Birkoff and began the meeting.

"Let me direct your attention to the screen," and he nodded at Birkoff. A young woman's picture is displayed before them. "Meet Kirsten Eliese Yager. In this picture, Miss Yager is 20 years old. Vitals are: 5'2", auburn hair and blue eyes. This particular picture was her student ID from Northwestern University." He cast a glance around the room and continued, "She graduated, with honors, in 1985 with her Master's Degree in Journalism. Miss Yager tested very high on the IQ scale, thus her accelerated study brought her out of college and into the work force at an early age." Michael paused and Birkoff brought up another picture, "Miss Yager went to work for the Chicago Tribune as an investigative reporter. This is a picture of her taken in the early spring of 1986 with her boyfriend, Thomas Patrick O'Neil. Mr. O'Neil was 26 at the time, and employed as a junior executive with Bank One's international services department."

He nodded again at Birkoff, and a picture appeared depicting the aftermath of an apparent car bomb. "This was taken in November of 1986. It is what it appears to be," he paused, "Officially this resulted in the deaths of Mr. & Mrs. Randall Yager and their daughter Kirsten." Birkoff changed images once again, and the picture was one of Miss York. "I'd like you to meet Kirsten Eliese Yager."

No one spoke for several moments; just a few looks were exchanged. Finally Ops took the floor. "This is another one of our good fortunes, much like the circumstances surrounding Helix, Tripoli and the power plant." He acknowledged Michael and Birkoff; "Good work you two." Then he continued, "The rest of the story is of great interest to us. Miss Yager's friend Thomas O'Neil was and still is a member of 'Chimera.' Chimera is the deep cover support for the Irish Republic Army. Unfortunately for Miss Yager, Mr. O'Neil was a bit careless with documents outlining funding for a weapons buy he had arranged through connections made with his position at the bank." All was quiet as he continued; "Our Miss Yager was most resourceful with the information. She did some Intel on her own then contacted the FBI with her suspicions. She agreed to cooperate in a sting, designed to flush out several organizers on both sides."

He stopped for a moment and changed the picture to a video of the hospital room. Key was sitting by the screen that monitored her horse, watching, but obviously deep in thought.

"What happened next was certainly a tragedy. Chimera found out about Miss Yager's involvement. The bomb; however, took the lives of Miss Yager's parents and her best friend. The FBI capitalized on the opportunity to try and preserve Miss Yager's life and her future usefulness by publicly portraying her death along with her parents."

"So they put her in WP, but had to do more than just hide her and change her name," Walter added.

"That's correct." Michael jumped back in. "She spent the next three years undergoing reconstructive surgery and laying down a foundation for her new life. The lack of history for those three years is an unfortunate oversight on the part of the US Marshal's office. We can't bring this to their attention, so Birkoff has developed info to fill in the blanks from here. We don't want anyone else to stumble across this discrepancy."

Now Madeline asked, "What, then is our objective and our intentions for Miss Yager?"

"Our objective is the ultimate extermination of Chimera." Operations added, "Our intentions for Miss Yager will greatly depend on how well Michael does his job."

Birkoff finally spoke, "Will she be considered disposable?"

"We are all potentially disposable, Birkoff. You should know that." Operations snapped. "Let's see how willing she is to help us. I don't have to tell you this stays in this room. It's up to Michael what our next move will be. Dismissed."

Everyone filed out leaving Michael as last. "I don't have to remind you how important her cooperation is, do I Michael?" Ops confronted him at the door.

"No, I understand. If she refuses," he shrugged, "She will be canceled." He looked away for a moment, then concluded, "I don't think she will refuse."

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

0900 hours

March 30, 1998

Michael activated the door opening just as Key was finishing her breakfast... an apple.

"Uh oh, the bad news spook has arrived," Key grumbled to herself.

"Good morning." She couldn't help but notice Michael didn't address her as Miss York, or use any other name for that matter. She observed he was still dressed in black and looked more solemn than ever, if that was possible.

"I know it's morning 'cause that's what the clock says. As far as it being good, that's a matter of opinion," she leveled a glare his direction.

He thought to himself, 'she has practiced these remarkable "go to hell" looks more than once.' Not to be distracted from his purpose, he launched right back; "We will omit the pleasantries then. I was going to ask how your injuries are progressing, but we won't waste time going there."

She inclined her head and suggested. "Let's get on to the big stuff then, shall we? I'm not a fan of wasting time, either."

Michael walked over to the bed and pulled the metal tray designed to hold meals up in front of her. He took the photograph of her and Thomas O'Neil out of a folder and placed that directly before her. To her credit, she didn't make a single sound. The only acknowledgment she made was placing her free hand flat on one side of the picture, studying it slowly.

Michael could almost read her mind. He could appreciate the mental struggle going on inside, 'do I admit anything, or do I play dumb.' Once again she gave him cause to admire her substance.

She brought her attention back to him, and with the determination to remain detached she said, "Is that all you have?"

Removing the picture depicting the scene of her parents' death, Michael placed that on the table. She focused her attention on this, and for what seemed like an eternity, she did nothing. Michael remained quiet by the bedside, hands folded. Then he noticed her hand, still resting flat beside the picture, slowly draw up into a fist. Last, but not least, from seemingly no where, he watched as one big tear dropped and hit the top picture.

"You bastard." She whispered, still looking at the picture. And like the good operative he was Michael pressed his advantage.

"Is this what you call the 'big stuff', Miss Yager?" His voice held no sympathy or betrayed any emotion.

She continued to look down as she quietly asked, "What do you want from me?"

Michael broke the stillness by walking to the end of the bed and grasping the footboard. He was somewhat affected by her grief, that much of him was not dead, but putting some distance between them eased the chance he might actually succumb to a reaction.

"This organization is called 'Section One'. We are an elite, covert operation and our purpose is to track down, destroy and dispose of terrorists and criminals who seem to elude all other efforts." He noticed she still wouldn't look at him. "We need your help to locate and destroy the base operation of 'Chimera'."

She looked up now, "And if I agree?"

"You'll be considered Class One Collateral, protected at all costs by the operatives here and on any mission you might be a part of."

"What if I don't agree to help?"

He directed a very cold look right at her and without blinking said, "You'll be canceled."

She pushed the tray aside, pictures and all, then got out of bed. Michael watched as she began to pace.

"I guess that's another way to say you will 'execute me', 'kill', 'murder', 'put me to death', 'do away with me'......." She paused, "You know in my business, we call it euthanasia."

She stopped, looked right at him with those drop-dead gorgeous eyes and asked; "Does the Marshal's office know about this?"

Michael saw no reason to lie, "No," he answered, "and we are not prepared to notify them."

"Because they would pitch a screaming fit, most likely." She continued, "Look, I hate the people that murdered my parents and best friend. I have no reason to not want them wiped off the face of this earth."

"So you'll help?"

"I didn't finish." She continued to hold his gaze and pointed a finger at him; "I don't like you. I haven't known you two days, but I believe you're as ruthless, cruel, and barbarous as they are." She hissed and continued, "The only difference in Chimera and this place, is you have the government's blessing and that makes everything you do honorable and just."

"You're quite right, Miss Yager."

"At least you're honest about that much." Key ran her hand through her hair several times. "This is such a crock. What do I have to do and how long is this going to take?"

Michael showed a momentary look of relief, and she did notice. "You'll do this?" He asked again.

"Do you have a piece of paper you want me to sign saying I will?" She shook her head. "I don't have a choice unless I want to die," she gave him another steely look, "now do I?"

"You'll need at least six weeks to heal from you injuries. Fortunately you're in good physical condition and I think we can have you at 100% in at least eight." He paused, "In the mean time you can help me build a profile of Chimera by telling me everything you remember. Together with our own Intel, we will draw up a mission plan."

Michael proceeded to gather the photos and prepared to leave the room. He stopped suddenly when she spoke.

"How would you do it?"

"Do what?" He turned to look at her.

"You know," she made a cutting gesture across her throat while saying, "how would you eliminate me?"

He held for a moment then said, "We would arrange for you to have an unfortunate accident."

She nodded in understanding, then held out her free hand to shake his, saying with tartness in her voice, "Truce?"

He took her hand and replied, " I was not aware we were fighting and needed a truce."

We aren't fighting." She said bluntly, as she released his hand. "You started a war....." She looked over her shoulder as she turned away and finished with one final comment, "That means 'watch your back, Michael'."

The judgment from the peanut gallery was swift and almost in unison, as Birkoff and Walter both said, "Round three is a draw."

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

The next two weeks flew by and Key was left alone for the most part. She had limited access to certain areas of the facility and she was moved to a more comfortable room. It was designed like a college dorm room, but she was sure the place was used as on site crew quarters.

Someone, usually Birkoff brought her a schedule of her day, until she suggested installing a computer. That gave Birkoff a thrill. The laptop afforded her a chance to access her schedule, start a journal (old journalists never die), and even surf the web. She only had search capability, no communication access, but it kept her boredom at a minimum.

Key had a regular pool of dinner companions, all so different and all intriguing. Birkoff and Walter were the most frequent. Madeline dined with her on occasion, though she made Key nervous and she didn't like the psychoanalytical version of Madeline. Even an older man, who called himself 'Operations' (strange name), joined her once for dinner. He never said anything to confirm her guess, but Key suspected he was the 'Big Chief.' The only person conspicuously absent from her schedule was Michael. She knew better than to think her threat had kept him away.

She was allowed to see her horse. They even gave her time outside in an open arena, weather permitting. The main part of the facility was located underground, which was not too surprising for what she now privately referred to as her own little "section of hell'. On the occasions she was allowed to go up, at least four operatives were assigned to accompany her. They were armed, but to their credit they blended in with the scenery.

Key really didn't like the situation she was in, but she didn't like it when her parents were killed and she was forced into changing her identity. Except for working with the animals, she hadn't liked much of anything about the last twelve years. Never trusting anyone sure cut down on the possibility of having friends. One thing she had learned from talking to Walter and Birkoff, the operatives of Section had to live much the same way, and like her, many of them chose to take a new identity over death.

As much as she wanted to ask questions about Michael, she didn't. Key had done her own evaluation of him: he was completely immersed in this way of life, professional to a fault, loyal without question. To most women, his aloofness and rugged good looks would signal a challenge. And what female this side of heaven wouldn't fight to bring someone like him back from the other side of hell. Curse that ancient female flaw, 'I can fix him.' What a lie.

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

1100 hours

April 16, 1998

"Miss Yager?" Key was suddenly jolted out of her musings by her latest attending operative.

"Yes." She answered and closed the book she had been reading and looked up at the young Asian man.

"Michael has signaled me to escort you to his office."

Key rose from the library table and said, "By all means we mustn't keep Michael waiting."

As they progressed down the hall, and through several code activated doors, Key observed areas she could only assume were for training. One appeared to be a computer center; another occupied by several students studying martial arts. They stopped just past this area and her escort knocked on a door, opened it, and then stepped aside for her to enter.

She immediately saw the office was modest in size and very starkly furnished. Michael stood up from behind his metal and glass desk to greet her.

"Come in Key and take a seat." He said this in the same controlled voice she remembered. He was also still dressed in black, nicely tailored dress pants, black T-shirt and a black tailored jacket. It was like a uniform for him.

Key just couldn't resist, she didn't sit down immediately, she walked around and stood behind the chair and said, "Do you ever wear anything else but black?"

To Michael's credit, he didn't take the bait, he blinked that familiar blink, leveled that blank stare and said, "Do you always say whatever comes to your mind no matter how rude?"

Key grinned, then retorted, "Touché, with all the unpleasant things I've had to deal with in this lifetime, I've found it best to be a little irreverent at times."

"If you'll have a seat, we can get started." He requested once again.

Key moved around the chair to take her seat and as Michael started to sit down, she asked, "Where does your accent come from?" She could tell that pricked at his magic control, so she pushed, "Or is that something you're not permitted to reveal about yourself?"

Michael locked eyes with her and as calm as he appeared on the surface, she swore she could see steam coming out his ears.

"Are you through?" He asked quietly.

"Am I through with what?" Key responded innocently, then on a more solemn note, "I just thought we might want to get to know each other if we're going to be sharing a death wish."

Michael could see that on a certain level she was now being moderately serious. "Is that what you think the out come of this mission will be?"

"No." She paused, then with some conviction she said, "I guess I believe from what I've seen of this place and the people involved, failure is not a part of the equation."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Michael took out a small tape recorder, and before he could continue Key said softly, "That still doesn't mean I believe I'll live to see my 34th birthday."

Michael's head snapped up and though he may not like the feeling, the way she looked at that moment made his gut hurt. "July 28th," he stated, then went on, " I'll personally see to it that you have your heart's desire on that date, if it is within my power." Then he concluded with one word and a dead on look, "French."

Key glanced up and mentally kicked herself. Those eyes of his did have some life after all, and a little, tiny, piece of her heart started to warm. She smiled, somewhat shyly for her, then relaxed. "Let's get started. What would you like me to tell you about Chimera?"

Michael clicked on the recorder and they began.

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

Not long after Key left to be escorted back to crew quarters, Madeline appeared at his office door.

"Come in Madeline." Michael invited. "I'm building an outline of the information Miss Yager provided and what we have from the FBI files Birkoff located."

"How did your first meeting go?" She inquired.

"It went fine." Michael added, "For someone asked to remember twelve year old details, I think she did remarkably well."

"And did the two of you reach an understanding?"

"You did not monitor the meeting?" Michael looked surprised.

"There was no need. This is your project. We know you can plan and execute this mission without any supervision." Michael noticed she didn't use the word interference. She continued, "We will want updates as usual and once you assemble your team, include us in your last strategy session." There was that 'Madeline' pause. "Now let's get back to Miss Yager."

Michael looked down at his folded hands, in thought about his answer. Then he looked up and began, "Miss Yager can be very antagonistic and sarcastic. She uses this to conceal her anxiety."

"I quite agree." Madeline smiled softly. "But don't forget Miss Yager is also very intelligent, and she is not a trained Section operative. She has a very impetuous spirit..... is very much alive. All this is tempered with a low threshold for trust." Madeline stopped for a moment and looked pointedly at Michael and added, "She despises me when I analyze her, so don't make the same mistake."

"She may never really like me," he offered. "But I believe she will trust me. In the end she may have no choice."

"Michael, I only caution you about her turbulent nature because she could make an emotional attachment to you." She paused, "In this scenario I think that could become critically dangerous."

"Don't worry. I only need to encourage her continued opinion of my character."

"And that is......?"

"She considers me barbarous, cruel and I think the other word she used was ruthless."

"Excellent." She gazed at him calmly and added, "Just don't give her any reason to believe she can rehabilitate your disposition."

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

Two weeks from that first meeting, Key had worked very hard to help set up a twelve year profile, tracking as many of the events credited to Chimera as possible. It became the time line from hell, but the more they studied it the quicker a pattern would emerge. She, Birkoff, and Michael also prepared the list of Chimera target operatives. Once completed, it would be distributed to Section contacts for tracking and further Intel.

It was a tedious process, but so far she liked this spy stuff. Her respect for Birkoff's computer talents had grown in proportion with her admiration for Michael and his ability to evaluate every sliver of information objectively. Removing any emotion from the mix made it easy to run all the plausible scenarios, and Michael was nothing if not perfect for the job.

That particular day had been a long one.......10 hours. She was starting to see double looking at the computer, when suddenly Michael announced it was time to break off for the day.

May 1, 1998

1800 hours

"Let's save this until we have a fresher perspective." He said as he looked at his watch.

Birkoff breathed a noticeable sigh of relief and logged off his computer, jumped up, grabbed his coat and said; "I'm outa here. You two can fry some more brain cells if you like."

Key swiveled in her chair and called out to him as he headed for the exit, "Tell Gail I said, 'Hello'." She added with a smile, "And take her to pick out that kitten she wants!"

She turned back and finished her log off procedure, removing the disk to take back to her room and study at her leisure. She noticed Michael had done the same thing.

Key held up her disk and said, "Great minds think alike." She grinned.

He glanced her direction and commented, "I do some of my best work at night, alone."

"That's one of your problems Michael." Key stood and stretched her back. "You work too much and you're entirely too fond of your own company." She paused, "Where are you off to? Your office or your cave?"

He looked at her with that blank stare, then turned to pick up his coat, "I thought you would have tired of your taunts by now."

"Just trying to stir up a reaction of some kind." She dropped her attitude. "How about some time in the gym? It feels good to be out of that harness for my collarbone. Except for my wrist, the rest of me could stand some physical activity."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, "Yes, that's a good idea. We need to work some on your balance, turning and kicking. Your reaction time could use some improvement, too." He paused at the entrance to crew quarters. "I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

As she headed for her room to change, she tried, but she couldn't remember anyone she knew that had as much emotional control as Michael. She saw how this place could easily breed that into someone. People used different tactics to protect themselves.

She beat Michael to the gym and was doing stretches to warm up when he arrived. Key was dressed in a full black body leotard, her curls tamed into a hair band on top of her head. Michael was wearing sweats and a sleeveless tee shirt, carrying a jacket.

For the next hour he had her do sets of turns and kicks, going for targets of heavy blocks he had in a sequence. He was a hard taskmaster, but it made her feel good to be this active. There were days before her bones began to heal that she thought she would go crazy before she got to exercise again.

Michael stopped their session by throwing a towel at her as she collapsed on the mat. While toweling off, Key asked, "Is this similar to the training that new operatives go through?"

She looked at Michael as he was moving the props they used back against one wall. "It takes much more time than this to train an operative." The statement made, he finished and came over to sit on a bench by the mat.

Key glanced up at him, "I'm sure it takes a lot of time to kill all their emotions."

"Is that what you think we do?" He leveled that unblinking look at her.

She didn't answer, so he changed the subject, something he was quite good at. " Have you ever handled any weapons?"

Key was folding and unfolding the towel when she answered, " I hate guns."

"I didn't ask if you liked guns. I asked if you knew how to use one." He responded with a small loss of patience.

She mumbled something smart-ass about his ancestry and without thinking it rolled out of her mouth in French. Michael grabbed her arm and yanked her up off the floor.

"What did you say?" He responded back in French.

"You heard me, and let me go, you're hurting my arm." Back to English, she jerked free and started rubbing where he grabbed her.

"Why did you not tell me you spoke another language?"

She leveled that great 'go to hell' look at him and said, "I speak Japanese, too, and Gaelic and a little Welsh. So what?"

"This information could be useful."

She retorted, " Why? So we can fight in different languages?"

This time he reached for her and wrapped one arm around her waist, and brought her hard and fast up against his body. With his free hand he jerked out the band holding her hair and clutched a handful of curls at the back of her head, effectively tilting her face up very close to his.

"I'm growing weary of our verbal sparring," his voice was quiet, but modulated and a touch threatening as he continued, " Shall we try harder to get along?"

Her heart was beating rapidly and she realized she was a little frightened of him....and unfortunately greatly attracted. As he loosened his hold on her, she decided bravely to try one more zing, just because he was such a bully. "Why don't we get it over with Michael?"

He looked down at her with cold, hard eyes and said, "Get what over with?"

"You know you want to kiss me, why don't you?"

She watched his face change and saw a flicker of confusion, a millisecond of emotion; just enough to convince her he wasn't dead inside. If she was not sure having seen all that, he lowered his head and did just what she suggested. The kiss was like setting off major dynamite and she knew at that moment her soul belonged to the devil.

When he started to break off the kiss, she didn't let him. She pushed back, bringing him into the fire with her. Reaching up from between them, she threaded her fingers through his hair, effectively pulling him closer. The kiss was not gentle; it was hunger, need, and desire all colliding at the same time. Suddenly they both heard voices approaching. Key panicked and as Michael released her, she grabbed her sweatshirt and headed out the door as the others came in. Several of the new arrivals exchanged greetings with him as he pulled on his jacket. He went into the hall, thought of pursuing her, but wisely let her go.

He leaned against the wall for just a moment, thinking, but not very clearly. That was the most impulsive thing he had done in years. He was dismayed to have lost his restraint so suddenly. Now he had to think of a way to stop this. Under no circumstances could they become involved or form any kind of attachment. For all he knew, he might be instructed to cancel her when this was all played out. From a different perspective, he hadn't ruled out asking to bring her in as his material. Her circumstances were perfect from the standpoint of her background. She was intelligent, athletic, attractive, learned quickly and with time, she might accept Section as her family. He was just not sure putting a bridle on all that irreverent passion was possible. One thing he did know, she was the most wildly intriguing woman he had ever met.

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

May 3, 1998

0800 hours

Sunday dawned into a glorious day. Springtime had come to Virginia and Key intended to ride her horse and enjoy. As she looked around the farm, it was hard to believe it provided cover for an underground facility. Everything looked functional, even the farmhouse, which was really just a shell. There were other horses out in the surrounding pasture area, and at any given time of day a good number of warm bodies was about. They apparently used the wooded area for different training scenarios, which explained how she ran into Michael.

He came to seek her out. He thought they needed closure from the other night. Standing up on the knoll closest to where the woods began, he watched how finely tuned she and the animal were. Together they operated as a team. The horse trusted her, did her bidding. It was uncanny how a prey animal could form such a bond with the human predator. In this case he was sure kindness and strong discipline had bred that trust. In the world of Section, he was used to playing the role of predator. He disliked the cruelty, the fear and hate he sometimes had to employ and incite during the training process. Many lives more important than his depended on how well he performed his job, and how well he brought an operative to completion.

There were some parallels to their lives, reasons why they could be close, but he had been emotionally unavailable for so long, he didn't believe he could conduct a successful relationship. He was not going to take something physical from her and then walk away. She had too much taken from her.

When it appeared she had finished working the horse, Michael approached one of the operatives on look out and explained he would escort Key back to quarters. She noticed him even before he stepped down the hill, over a distance of three hundred yards they locked eyes. Key groaned to herself as she guided D.B. around at a walk to cool him out. Something told her this was not going to be a conversation she wanted to have.

Michael stepped up to the fence and his eyes traveled over her, taking in the rather noticeable bruise on her right arm, his handiwork. She was damp from perspiration and though she had braided her hair this time, it hadn't confined all her curls. The ones that had escaped framed her face and made those big violet colored eyes almost the only thing you noticed. Michael took another mental photograph of her. It may be all he was left with once the mission was complete.

She came to a halt in front of him and he said, " If you would join me for a walk, I need to outline the coming week."

Key swallowed, then blinked and found her voice, " Let me go take care of D.B."

Michael walked to the gate and opened it, " That's not necessary," he paused, "Bring him along. There's a short trail through the woods that will bring us out by the barn, we can take that."

She dismounted, secured the English stirrups and unclipped the reins from the bit to use as a lead with the halter bridle. She came through the gate and fell into step with him as they headed for the perimeter of the woods.

"I would like to accelerate your training schedule." He began, "In the morning I want you to report to Walter. He will help you become more familiar with the weapons we use." He paused, glanced at her, waiting for her to object, and when she didn't he continued, "You don't need to handle anything you're uncomfortable with, but I would like you to pick something and work on your proficiency." Still no response. They strolled on down the path in silence neither one looking at the other. "I did not mean to grab you so hard as to cause a bruise." He said it so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

Key stopped; D.B. stopped, so Michael had to stop. She found her tongue finally, "I know you didn't." She scuffed her boots in the dirt. "I provoked you and I promise to stop doing that." She looked up at him. Her breath caught, as his eyes were very green at the moment.

He began, " You need to understand...."

She raised a hand and stopped him. "Don't Michael." They resumed walking and she went on, "Don't try to explain the other night, and don't launch into your 'my first loyalty is to the Section' speech. Trust me when I say I understand."

"Do you?" he sharpened a look at her and stopped again, focusing her attention from the ground to him with the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

"For the last twelve years I haven't had any close relationships. It's a necessity." She paused and he heard the resignation in her voice. "I live a lie. I can't offer a normal person with a normal life even the barest foundation for trust." Her voice wavered some and she reached to scratch D.B.'s head looking for comfort in the act.

"This is a little different, Key." Michael responded, wished he hadn't known where this was headed.

"Not so different. I don't think you can allow yourself to trust anyone, and the Section...." She laughed sarcastically, "well they have their own agenda, and you do work for them."

"What do you mean?" His reaction to her intuitiveness, hidden for now.

"You would lie, cheat, steal, manipulate and kill for these people...this organization." She hesitated a moment, "I suppose that should be 'you have' and 'you will'." She took a deep breath and went on, "Here's the really stupid part of the whole thing. I trust you. I am trusting you ...with my life."

He considered her words for a moment, "If you believe what you have just said, why would you trust me?" He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She hesitated, looked all around them, wondered if 'they' were watching or listening. "It's that stoic sense of honor you have, Michael."

He looked up from her, eyes doing the same scan of the area. She hated this, because she could tell he was paranoid, that her confession had both pleased him and made him uncomfortable.

"I don't care what they told you to do with me, what they instructed you to do to gain my trust." She rushed on; "You're probably trained to use a physical attraction to get what you need from your mark." His eyes settled on hers, finally. "You and I both know that kiss started out as just a physical reaction to my challenge, but when I pressed you it went to a different level. It meant something. You and I know each other much better than we want to admit."

As she stood there fumbling with D.B.'s reins, and suddenly wishing she was anywhere but where she was, he reached out, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and whispered, " That is why we are having this conversation."

Key closed her eyes, remembered the caress, the softness of his voice and she dropped her head, "Then we both agree." She said quietly. "I do understand." They started walking again and quickly came up to the barn.

Key nodded her head to Michael, acknowledging the conversation was over. He stopped and she continued down the aisle to take care of her horse. When she looked back, he was gone. She hugged D.B., pressed her face into his neck and breathed that comforting horse smell, willing the ache inside to go away.

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

May 4, 1998

0800 hours

She reported to Walter the next morning and spent all day looking at, handling and learning the names of what she regarded generically as just guns. Key was the perfect student, but the most she came away having learned that day was if you see a small red light mark you or anyone, hit the deck. She tried to joke with Walter, but that didn't come off very sincere. He asked her what was wrong and all she could do was shake her head and change the subject, then pretend to be interested in his weapons arsenal. When they were done for the day, she had chosen the nine-millimeter glock.

No Michael that day. No wonder. She went to Birkoff, updated the time line onto her disk and went back to her room. She wasn't hungry and she was more determined than ever to find the linking clue so they could get this over with and she could get out of this place.

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

May 14, 1998

0600 hours

Key was awake. She felt she had been awake for days and even after a hot shower she still felt as if she was operating in slow motion. When she dressed that morning she noticed her jeans were loose, knew she had lost weight, looked like hell and she didn't care. As she made her way to the staging area, where she worked with Birkoff, Key heard, then saw a lot of activity. Michael was right in the middle of it. He was moving calmly from one station to another speaking to the different operatives, giving instructions. He was nothing if not organized and he kept things well orchestrated. Something had obviously happened. Key noticed even at such an early hour, Madeline and Operations were there. Both were visible on the upper level within the glass enclosed observation area.

She hung back waiting for the right time to approach Michael. He had noticed her immediately and motioned for her to join him the minute he completed talking to someone on the com-set.

"What's happened Michael?" She searched his face for any clue, but there was none. He steered her away from the activity. Just the touch of his hand on her back made her aware of the tension he hid so well.

"Chimera hit last night." As he spoke he looked up and scanned the room. "They kidnapped the eighteen year old son of an important member of the British parliament." He paused, glanced back at her, "We will have more Intel in an hour and I'll call the team together. In the meantime....."

She interrupted, 'I'll stay out of the way." He nodded his affirmation and walked back to the row of computers.

Key went to her workstation and quickly typed in last nights' date and asked for all data comparisons over the last twelve years. She had set up the program to look at more than just date, but till Michael's briefing; at least this search could be done. It wasn't her nature to sit still, so she got up and paced around behind her station, then in front of her station. Little did she know she was the topic of conversation upstairs.

"Our guest," Operations began and nodded to Key, "has lost weight and she doesn't look very rested." He turned to Madeline looking for her confirmation.

"You're quite right." Madeline paused, "She was doing very well up until about two weeks ago."

"Why the change?" He looked over at her expecting an answer.

"I'm not sure." She looked down at Key, tapping her finger on her chin at the same time. "She has healed quickly from her injuries, has had her choice of recreation time, has even appeared most eager to help us complete this project." Then Madeline saw the first hint of the problem.

"Stay close to this." He slipped off his glasses and prepared to leave. "We do not need a single hitch in this mission."

Madeline nodded her understanding. She continued to watch the activity below, and saw the unmistakable series of pauses Michael had made since Key arrived. All those minor interludes had been brief flashes of troubled concern directed at Miss Yager. It was too early to tell if that was going to be a problem.

Back at her station, Key heard the program as it beeped three times signaling its' search completion. Nothing. She sighed and sat down to widen the search parameter to four days, two days on either side of the Chimera action. This was hopeless, Key thought, as the second search began. She had added some really stupid search criteria like numerology, astronomy and astrology last night. Then she got up, began to pace again, wondering what else it would take or if they would ever establish a pattern. Maybe there wasn't one. When the machine beeped it had completed the next search, she just kept pacing, didn't even look at the screen. She wasn't watching where she was going and suddenly she ran right into Michael, because he had come over to her area and stopped in front of her station. He reached out to steady her and turned her around at the same time to look at her screen, it was flashing 'MATCH' in big bold letters.

"What kind of match did you get?" Michael propelled Key into her chair with urgency.

"I don't know...." She started typing, fingers flying over the keyboard. "I added a four day span to this last search.... And, oh my ...." Key trailed off.

Michael read the screen. "Every credited Chimera action in the last twelve years has occurred within forty eight hours of a full moon." He shook his head as though he didn't believe it.

"I know this sounds stupid, but I just added the astronomy parameter on a lark." Key said looking at the screen. "This hasn't happened after every full moon, but it is somewhere to start."

Michael was looking over her shoulder, his face very close to hers. "This is excellent work, Key." He whispered. His breath caressed her cheek and she couldn't stop the chill running down her spine. He turned his attention from the screen to her, looked directly into her eyes. "We have some things to discuss later." Then he straightened and gestured for Birkoff to join them at her station

Within a few hours, the team was assembled and from what Key knew they were Section's best operatives. She sat in the back of the room trying to look inconspicuous as Michael outlined the information that had been verified, the rest was a surprise.

"We will all be involved in carrying out the hostage exchange." Michael flashed up a picture of the boy that had been kidnapped last evening. "The hostage exchange will be made as Chimera requested."

That started some significant speculation and Michael held up a hand for quiet. "The individual they want in exchange for the boy is Thomas Patrick O'Neil." Key jerked up straight in her chair unable to guard her surprise. She had no idea he was incarcerated, and suddenly she didn't like where this was going.

"O'Neil may have blundered twelve years ago here in the states," Michael paused, glanced at Key then continued, "but once back in Ireland he quickly rose through the ranks of Chimera. He had been a significant organizer of creative financing for the group, until his rather careless attempt at a jewelry heist three years ago."

Several questions were addressed and Michael continued, "Make no mistake, this will have to be a precision operation. Everyone has a very specific assignment, but overall, we will be there watching Chimera watch us, watch them. You can be sure, they will have gathered as much Intel on us as possible."

"Who is going to tag O'Neil with the tracking device?" Walter asked.

"I'll be responsible for arranging that. You and Tallie will be in one van to monitor this exchange, and Birkoff will be in the other van." He paused and looked around the room, "I know there will be more questions, so let's meet again at 1300 hours."

Everyone filed out of the room, but Key. When they were alone, Michael quickly got to the reason they needed to talk.

"Your assignment in this will be to reveal yourself to O'Neil." Michael watched her face go somewhat white then proceeded, "Just how you'll do this is yet to be determined, but the element of surprise gives us an advantage. O'Neil will be completely off guard, giving you a chance to tag him with the tracking device....." He looked away from Key, eyes shifting around room. He was remotely aware that Madeline was observing their exchange. He continued, "There is no other way to do this. O'Neil would be too suspicious and observant of anyone else."

Having recovered some of her color she began, "I seem to recall earlier you said we needed to discuss some things." Key folded her arms, and looked at Michael with distaste. "This sounds like a mandate."

"Categorize this any way you care to." He looked directly at her, eyes blank. "The fact remains that your survival beyond this point rests with your ability to perform certain functions." His voice was quiet, controlled and cold as ice.

"So we're back to 'do what you're told or be canceled', 'follow orders and don't ask questions' .... 'live or die'." Key shook her head, disgust was written all over her face. "At least the US Marshall's office consulted with me before they made decisions about my life." She turned and left the room.

Michael watched her leave, wanted to go after her, wanted even more to touch her again and offer.....what did he have to offer her? It was much better to encourage her indignation. She would be sharper and less vulnerable this way.

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

Same day

1300 hours

The mission briefing went as planned. There would be four operatives in one mobile unit with Walter and Tallie, four in another with Birkoff. They would be responsible for sweeping the area in a wide arc, half coming from the north, the other group from the south. Chimera would be out, and with how many, no one knew. That was part of the mission: remain undetected, seek out Chimera agents, identify how many and who was present. The only real action would be occurring when Key revealed herself to O'Neil. Michael dismissed everyone but Key and set mission departure for midnight. After every one filed out of the room, he led the way to his office.

Once inside, Michael shut the door, and invited Key to take a seat. "I have some background about this mission I want to share with you." He watched as Key focused her attention on her feet. "We've known from various sources that Chimera was planning to launch some terrorist event in order to attract media attention to their cause. And we know from your analysis when they are likely to implement. They need O'Neil to help set up the funding. This situation is only a minor step leading to something bigger, something deadly we want to stop."

"So my participation in this and the lasting effect this will have on my life is of no consequence compared to the greater good." Her tone of voice was bitter, but when she looked up at him he saw her fatigue, her disappointment and resignation.

"I know this is painful and will change things on a major scale for you once again." Then he softly said, "I regret that," he paused, swallowed and went on, "But if we can stop Chimera, eliminate their organizers and contain any further damage, this will strike a fatal blow to the heart of the IRA."

She closed her eyes; breathed deeply and tried to think of all the innocent lives this would save. Then she thought about the scum who deserved to die and would. In the end, she still felt empty and alone. If she survived, that much about her life would not change. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't hide the tears that had welled up and threatened to spill.

Brushing away the wetness, Key shook off her despondency and tried to focus on Michael. He had quietly taken his seat behind his desk. There was something in his face...maybe understanding.

"Look, I know you can't be holding my hand through all this. Sometimes, I need to gather myself and I can usually do that in private." She trailed off....then said, "I apologize."

Michael looked down at his hands folded on the desk, then back at Key. Inside, she would never know how much his heart hurt for her. "I can tell you're exhausted. It will serve us much better if you'll get some rest now. We can go over your role in detail later this evening."

"No, we can do this now." She tried to sound sincere, and didn't quite pull it off.

"I think not." He stood. "I'll send for you later. I want you to try and get at least four hours of sleep."

As he moved around the desk to her, he continued, "We could get something to help you sleep from Medical."

She stood up, shook her head, "I can rest without the help."

"Do you want someone to see you back to quarters?"

"I know the way." She stopped at the door, "Thank you, I guess I do need some down time." Then she was gone.

Michael made his way back to his desk. Sitting down he looked at his computer, the list of notes he had made, and all he could concentrate on was Key. Suddenly, his intercom came on and Birkoff was calling to him urgently, "Michael, get out here now. Key fainted on the way to crew quarters."

He was out the door, past Birkoff, and down the hall so quickly, all anyone could do was get out of his way. She had made it to the entrance of quarters and fainted right at the door. Walter was kneeling beside her patting her face and saying her name when Michael reached them. He moved to the opposite side of her from Walter and gently began to pick her up.

"Don't you want to wait for Medical?" Walter looked worried.

"Let's just get her to her room. She's exhausted and probably hasn't been eating." Walter buzzed them into the hallway and then led the way to her quarters.

Key came to enough to realize she was being carried, then stirred and mumbled, 'sleep'. Michael looked at her again as he put her on the bed, kicked himself for not having noticed the dark circles under her eyes and even the weight loss. He removed her shoes then tucked the covers around her and motioned for Walter to turn down the lights.

They both stepped outside her door and Walter launched into Michael. "What is your problem? Didn't you see this coming?" He was very agitated. "I can't believe we leave on this mission," he looked at his watch, "in eleven hours and you expect her to be fully functional?"

Michael didn't answer for a moment. Then he spoke quietly, "I haven't been around her very much in the last two weeks." He looked from the floor to her door and back to Walter. "I believe four or five hours of sleep will help. Her role tomorrow is important, but limited."

"Michael, there's more than the lack of sleep going on here."

"Walter," Michael looked at him directly and with dismissal in his voice he said, "Do not concern yourself with this. We will all need you to concentrate solely on your part in this mission."

"Whatever you say, Michael." The tone of his voice was not in the least agreeable, but he knew when to back off. "See you in about eleven hours and let me know when you want to check the inventory." Then he headed for the exit.

Michael turned and went back into the room. The low light cast an eerie glow, and he moved quietly looking around at all the ways she had marked the room as hers. She had riding boots and socks kicked under her desk. They were next to a trash can full of wadded up papers, some that were littering the floor. Her computer was off, and she had neatly stacked note pads, boxes of diskettes and CD's, all arranged in precise order. That was a contrast to the clothes box that had tee shirts, riding pants, jeans and numerous other garments in disarray, having never made it into the dresser. There were sticky notes everywhere. One said, 'ask Michael - horseshoer?' another, 'hair cut/color - ask Michael', proving he had not been around for her to ask.

He walked quietly over to the vanity that had hair bands scattered around her toiletries. He picked up a bottle of fragrance and immediately connected it to her......fresh, light, very free. As he leaned against the vanity, he thought about everything he knew of her. The tragedy, the danger, and then the loss of her life's foundation all suggested she should be living a shadow's existence. Not Key. She had reached out from her despair, built a new life, found something approaching normalcy. Even the slightly jaded part of her had found a way to trust him. He had truly given her no reason to do so. Michael thought he was nothing if not an expert at masking his emotions. A necessary survival skill he had taken years to perfect. It was becoming increasingly hard to be in proximity of her and not show some feeling, some empathy, to be engaged in some emotional identification with her situation. But that sounded like he wanted to be her brother and that wasn't what he felt at all.

"OH NO.......MOM...DAD!" Her anguished cry brought him out of his thoughts and back to the moment. He crossed to the bed, sat on the edge and took her by both shoulders as she sat up.

"Key, wake up," he shook her gently. "It's just a dream, a nightmare....wake up."

She had covered her eyes with her hands like she was trying to rub away the ugly picture he knew she was seeing in her mind. He cursed himself for having shown that picture to her, blamed himself for this, until she sobbed and flung herself against his chest, crying, "I saw it happen, Michael. I saw the car blow up...." She whimpered like a wounded animal, "another few minutes and I would have been in the car with them. They were waiting on me to finish meeting with one of the FBI agents." Michael tentatively put his arms around her and she continued, "Carol, my best friend...she was with them....." She pushed away from him just enough to look up at him with tears streaming down her face; "I killed them." She said with finality.

He drew her back to his chest, cradled the back of her neck with one hand, and lightly stroked through her hair with his fingers. "You didn't kill them, Key." He whispered quietly. "It wasn't your fault, you were trying to stop thousands of unnecessary deaths by exposing O'Neil."

"Oh God." She choked out, "I want to make him pay for that. I really do."

"You will. By helping us tomorrow, you'll help to seal the whole organizations' fate." He stopped stroking her hair and then cupping her face he brought her back into his view. "You have to put this away for now, Key. You need to rest. I'll be with you tomorrow and I know you can do this. Once we can track O'Neil, you won't have to be physically exposed to any more of this."

"Will you stay...for just a while?" She looked so forlorn, knew he shouldn't, but.....

"Will you promise to go back to sleep if I do?" He asked.

She nodded her agreement. Michael got up and removed his jacket, then stretched out on the bed, his back against the headboard. He drew Key up against his chest, wrapped his arms around her and said, "Now sleep." He willed himself to relax; he didn't want her to feel his tension. As she settled and her breathing began to even out, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head and whispered in French, "You are safe little one."

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

Same day

1600 hours

Michael dozed for about an hour. The down time actually helped him and as he extracted himself from Key's bed, careful not to wake her, the mission profile started running through his head. He paused long enough to splash some water on his face, pulled on his jacket, then left her room, now doing a mental check list of things he still needed to do before they could leave.

As he exited crew quarters and headed for his office; he felt rather than saw Madeline watching from "the glass tower." Without looking up, he paused, turned and took the stairs.

"You wanted to speak to me?" His question hung in the air, as he entered the observation area. A hint of challenge was in his voice, and that other half of him he kept neatly in check threatened to step out.

"Ever perceptive aren't you Michael." Madeline stated with a slight smile. "Could it be you know what I'm concerned about?"

"She will be ready and able to perform her part in this mission." He looked at Madeline blankly, then chose to turn and gaze down to the axis area below. "I suppose you know about her fainting." He didn't wait for an answer; "She just needs some sleep and a good meal."

"While I am concerned about our guest, the true reason for my interest lies with you, Michael." She turned and looked below, too. Then she shifted her gaze back to him, willing him to return her stare.

He was very quiet and she could tell he was considering his next words carefully. He did not turn to look at her, only she noticed his grip on the rail tightened when he said, "I have developed an affection for Miss Yager."

Madeline was not sure she was surprised by his admission. Sometimes, even she had a hard time distinguishing Michael's true sentience, sometimes not. That had made him a very valuable operative. "Can you still carry this mission to completion?"

Now Michael turned and met her gaze, "There is nothing about this mission that will be compromised." He said firmly and with purpose. "I'm not inclined to make any declarations to her about my feelings." Then quietly he added, "I merely thought you should be informed about my proclivity toward Miss Yager."

Now Madeline was very curious. She considered what he had revealed and asked. "Is there any special reason you wanted to share this with me?"

"I think we should bring Miss Yager into Section after this is over." His eyes shifted briefly from her to his hands, now clasped in front of him, then back to her. Once again, obviously considering his words, he said, "If the decision is made to cancel her," he blinked then continued, "It would be best not to tell me."

"And why is that Michael?" Operations' voice boomed from behind him.

Madeline looked at him, not sure what to expect. Michael had never really exhibited this kind of verbal defiance. She watched as he turned smoothly, squared himself and said with conviction, "If you choose to waste her life, I will try to stop you."

Operations raised an eyebrow, was obviously not angry, but he looked annoyed. "You would defy us......defy Section? This is not how you were trained."

Those two statements appeared to be just the thing to light Michael's fuse. The next declaration he made was deadly calm, but what gave him away were his eyes....they were on fire. This was all so completely out of character for him that Ops and Madeline were momentarily speechless.

"Miss Yager is not a Section operative, yet she has worked tirelessly to assist us. She made the mistake of stumbling on to this property and has clearly become an unexpected asset. She knows what it means to live like a ghost." He stopped, gathered himself and continued, "This woman has a great deal to offer Section One, if not as an active agent, as an equal to ...say... Birkoff." He looked at both Madeline and Ops then finished, "I want to bring her in permanently. If you don't.....I will contact the US Marshall's office."

Madeline found her voice, was surprised when Ops didn't do a lift off right in Michael's face. "You realize you can't make demands like this without repercussions."

He looked from one to the other and stated with intensity, "Then cancel me." That was all. He ended any further comments by leaving.

Operations watched Michael as he reached the first floor, then crossed the axis area and disappeared. He then looked at Madeline and said, "When we reach End Game, make her an offer."

"An offer?" Madeline looked startled.

"You heard me correctly." He paused, "Offer her life with Section One or tell her we will deliver her back to the US Marshal's office."

"You intend to give her a choice?"

"I always did intend to give her a choice." He removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued, "I contacted the Marshall's office when we discovered her identity, they have always known where she was. They will support whatever decision she makes." He put his glasses back on. "I strongly believe when this is over, she will run back to them and do everything she can to distance herself from this place."

"What if she surprises us and chooses Section?"

"Then she will be your material." With that said, he added, "If Michael has a problem with that decision, send him to me."

"He's not going to walk away from this one." Madeline said with assurance and some measure of sadness.

"Maybe not." He hesitated only a moment, "But I think is Miss Yager will walk away from him." He turned to leave and made one last comment, "Let's get through this mission, until then, I believe Michael will conduct himself appropriately."

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

Same day

2100 hours

Key woke suddenly. She checked the time and jumped from the bed to answer the knocking at her door. When she opened it, the aroma of food hit her and she knew her appetite had returned

"Walter." She exclaimed. "If that nourishment is for me, please come in."

"Yes indeed, sweetheart, this is just what the doctor ordered." He grinned and set the tray on her desk pulling up another chair so he could join her. "I'll just stay and visit, drink my coffee...."

"And watch me eat this instead of taking my word for it that I will." She smiled and started chewing on French fries.

Walter looked appropriately embarrassed, then said, "I think we need to add mind reading to the list of your many talents."

"Just so you don't make note of my high drama fainting spell." She took a huge bite of hamburger.

"You did have me worried," he paused, as if considering whether to make the next statement. "Michael was concerned." He sipped his coffee, "Something else has him worked up, he's been in the gym kickboxing the hell out of that dummy for the last hour."

Key looked at him, chewing slowly, trying to decide if she should comment on either of Walter's previous proclamations, and decided not to. "I'm a little embarrassed, I woke up having a nightmare. He was still here." She paused wiped her hands on a napkin. "I sorta blubbered on him a little."

"Well that didn't provoke his visit to the gym." He looked into his coffee cup, then at her. "How much do you know about Michael?"

Key almost choked on her next bite of hamburger. She answered when she finished chewing. "No personnel history." She shook her head, "I do understand his demeanor, you know......why he acts so cold and distant. He has to protect what's left of his soul." Walter watched her eyes loose some of their light, saw her sadness and heard it in her next statement. "This place has forced him to lock away feelings that could be used against him. Feelings like compassion, kindness......the basics, all those feelings would be considered weak."

"Maybe I should call you Madeline Jr." Walter said jokingly and tried to lighten things up.

Key smiled. "Michael is Michael. Maybe I understand because I've had to bury part of myself just to survive this last twelve years."

"That's about how long Michael has been in Section." That said, he plunged ahead, "Michael was married. She was an operative named Simone. Three years ago she was believed to have been killed, and Michael blamed himself. Didn't speak much, if at all for at least a year...."

"Walter, " Key held up her hand as if to stop him from continuing....

"No, let me tell you just this little bit. I think you should know." He paused, raised an eyebrow. She nodded for him to continue. "Then there was Nikita. She was new material brought in and given to Michael to train." He sipped on his coffee. "There was something special between them."

Key hated to gossip, but now she was intrigued. "What happened to her?"

Walter continued, "She was offered a position of some importance at one of our largest substations in Europe. She took it." He chuckled, "They were either going to kill each other or..... get each other killed."

"Somehow, Walter, I don't picture it being that funny to either of them."

He sobered quickly, "No it wasn't, but they sure had their moments." Then he smiled again and said, "You finish that burger....NOW"

"Okay, papa bear." Key grinned and took a huge bite of hamburger, started chewing, then winked at Walter.

After he left, Key took a long hot shower and tried very hard to not dwell on thoughts of Michael. She dressed in black leggings, a dark purple turtle neck, a pullover polartec lined windbreaker, also in dark purple, and her nice, sturdy, but comfortable paddock boots. She French braided her hair, grabbed a stocking hat, then headed out to locate Michael. If she was going to take part in this mission, he better let her in on what to do. They must have been on the same wave link, because just as she exited crew quarters she ran into him.

"Michael, I was on my way to find you," She noticed he was the one that looked sleep deprived now.

"Yes, let us go back to my office. I have an outline for you, different sims for the mission." He was running one hand through his hair. It was still damp from a shower she presumed, and he was definitely distracted.

He was also moving fast, and she was taking several strides to keep up with him, when he normally paced himself with her. Finally she reached out and touched his arm.

"Michael, I don't think there's a fire, slow down."

He did slow and he looked down at her hand on his arm and said, "I'm sorry, I have to check on the transport after this and then...."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Michael." She looked up at him and smiled. "Did you finish abusing the dummy in the gym?"

They arrived at his office, entered and he shut the door behind her, then responded, "You're obviously feeling better."

Key sat down as Michael moved behind his desk to sit, "And you didn't answer my question." She added.

"We are not here for you to ask me questions about anything other than the mission." He paused, locked her with a serious 'let's get down to business', stare and continued, "I appreciate that you feel better and have recovered your charming insolence, but I need to brief you about this meeting with O'Neil."

Key narrowed her eyes, scrutinized him for just a heartbeat, then proceeded, "Let's get started, but....." She added in an equally frigid voice, "don't dare mistake my compliance in any way for enthusiasm."

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

May 15, 1998

0100 hours

An hour into the flight on the C1-11 transport, she certainly wasn't impressed with the flight accommodations. Her seat was hard, she felt sure she had lost her hearing and the gun she had to carry was pressing into the small of her back. Everyone else looked right at home and relatively natural in this setting

Suddenly she heard Michael, his soft accented voice right in her ear, "Key, if you can hear me over the com-set, give me a thumbs up."

She leaned forward and glanced down toward the cockpit where Michael sat and gave him the sign. Another eight hours of this and she was sure to be irritable and cranky. Then she felt someone tug on her sleeve and she looked up to see Birkoff motioning for her to follow him. Gratefully she unhooked the safety belt and followed him through a door to the cargo area. The two vans they were going to use for transport and communications for the teams were locked into place in the holding area. Birkoff led Key into one. Once the door was shut, the noise from the transport engines was blessedly gone.

"Thank you!" Key sank into one of the cushy chairs.

"Don't thank me, " Birkoff smiled. "Thank Michael. He thought you might like to grab some more sleep."

"What a guy." She knew she sounded sarcastic and when she started to remove her gun so she would be more comfy, she suddenly heard Michael's voice right in her ear again.

"You're very welcome, Key."

She looked up at Birkoff and her eyes were as big as silver dollars. She gestured for something to write with and he threw her a notepad and pen. She wrote out in big letters: TURN THIS THING OFF.

Birkoff shrugged and smiled, then wrote her a message: I can't.... he has the control link.

Key made a smirky face, finished taking off her gun, and then stretched across the arms of the chair. In a matter of minutes she was asleep.

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

Same day

0900

"Key," Michael gently shook her, "Key, wake up."

"Um....oh," Her nose woke up first, and she smelled the tangy scent that was Michael, then the coffee. Slowly her eyes opened, she blinked and focused on those luminescent green eyes.

"We'll be landing in about 30 minutes." He handed her the coffee, then took a seat across from her. "I would like to remind you what to do when we land."

She straightened in the chair, then noticed Birkoff was gone before she said, "I know Michael, I'm suppose to keep my eye on you for movement instructions, and pay attention to my surroundings." She sipped her coffee.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

"I haven't had time to be nervous." She threw a sharp look at him. "Should I be?"

"No, everything should go as planned." He looked from her to the floor, and continued, "If for some reason it doesn't......" he didn't get to finish.

"Is that why you added two more teams?" Key interrupted. "Do you know something you're not telling me?"

Michael looked up this time and Key almost lost her breath, because he looked troubled and there was unmistaken concern in his voice as he said, "I just want you to know what your options are.....if something happens to me."

"Michael, nothing will...."

He stopped her by grabbing both her hands in his, "Listen to me," he stated almost harshly, "I've set up a fail safe. If I don't get back to deactivate it, the Marshall's office will be notified where you are and instructed about what to do to retrieve you."

Her eyes were huge, as she couldn't believe what he was saying. "I don't understand....."

"You don't need to understand. Just stay close to the British operatives and get yourself back to Walter or Birkoff." He let go of her hands, stood up and started for the door. She set down her coffee and got up to follow. He stopped at the door and turned to her, "And remember," He cupped her chin in his hand to bring her eyes up to meet his, "We did not have this conversation.....agreed?"

"Yes." She said softly and then he was gone.

They landed without incident at a cargo airfield normally used for airfreight deliveries. There were two Hummers waiting to escort them to an abandoned military base where the exchange would take place. Once the vans were off loaded and everyone was in place, Key and Michael joined the agents in one of the Hummers. Halfway to the base, the two vans broke off from them to establish perimeter locations.

Key started to prepare herself for the meeting. She controlled her breathing, calmed her thoughts and pulled all her emotion inside and stashed it in that remote place she'd established twelve years ago. Michael was, she assumed, communicating with the teams, because she could see his mouth moving occasionally but could hear nothing over the vehicle noise. They arrived at the base in about thirty minutes and were ushered inside what looked like an old barracks. She stuck to Michael like glue. Once inside, brief introductions were made.

They had Thomas already there in a small office waiting for the exchange and without any delay she was escorted to the door and given two cups of coffee. Then she entered the lion's den. Thomas was handcuffed with his hands in front and he was standing by a small space heater trying to stay warm. Dressed in prison overalls, he appeared to be thinner, but he hadn't changed much physically in any other way.

She set the coffee down on a desk for the time being, cleared her throat, and said, "Hello Thomas."

The look on his face was.....disturbed for a moment, he narrowed his eyes and spoke. "Who the hell are you and when do we get this exchange over with?"

"Awfully impatient aren't you," she paused, "and I think you should sit down before I tell you who I am."

Now the look on his face needed to be preserved with a photograph. It was obvious he recognized the voice, but couldn't reconcile that with her appearance. He walked around the end of the desk he had been standing by.

She picked up the coffees and rounded the opposite end of the desk, extending one of the cups. Then she said, "It's Kirsten Yager, remember..........your dead girlfriend."

It all happened like it was suppose to happen. The coffee reached his hand about the same time as her announcement. With both his hands cuffed, the cup never made it. It upended all over both his forearms, not hot enough to burn, but just enough to cause him to jump back.

As he stood there shaking the wetness off his arms, Key stood still and prayed, holding her breath. Then she heard Michael's voice, "Good job, Key. Birkoff says he is radioactive and he has a clear lock on his position." She let the breath go.

"Sorry I didn't mean to be so clumsy." She looked at Thomas and smiled. "Just a little surprised are you?"

Thomas stood still, locked into place, coffee dripping off his arms, and slowly he started to smile. "So Section One has really cooked up a good one this time."

Before she had time to react with much more than a shadow of surprise, Key walked straight up to him and held up her ring finger on her left hand, "Remember smashing this in the car door?" The finger was crooked, broken at the first joint. As she waved the finger in front of his face she began again, "If you're questioning my identity, think again. I don't know what or whom you're talking about, but I'm here at the request of the British government under the protection of the US Marshall's office. You know, the guys that handle Witness Protection?"

"I'm not sure what game you're trying to play......." He began.

"GAME!" She yelled, "This is about your life Thomas! This is about what you did to my life! This is about what your 'associates' did to my parents and my best friend." Key had almost backed this man twice her size into the corner. She pointed her finger, was close enough to poke him in the chest, as she continued. "This is about you doing something to stop this crazy terrorist group from killing more innocent people."

Tears in her eyes, she stopped when she realized Michael had entered the room, come up behind her and gripped her upper arm. "Miss Yager, time to go." He said softly.

She jerked her arm away from him, looked daggers at Thomas one last time, then turned and brushed past Michael, saying, "I'm done with this scum."

Once outside the room, she collapsed against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt, rather than saw Michael as he stepped up beside her.

"Don't you have something else to tend to?" She opened her eyes and looked over at him, not trying to hide her annoyance.

"No." It was amazing how that one word from Michael spoke volumes. He continued, "Things will happen quickly now," he turned to her, "You're ready?"

"Yes, Michael." Key pushed away from the wall and followed him outside where the activity was heating up.

The exchange was to take place out on the tarmac. One British operative, the boy's father and Thomas were to approach the Chimera representative accompanied by the boy. Thomas was to remain hand cuffed. No one on either side was naïve enough to think the other would not have perimeter coverage. When they brought Thomas out, he paused after he and his escorts had passed her and Michael. He looked back, glanced at Michael, then at her, and he smiled a creepy smile. Then they continued down the tarmac.

Suddenly, she heard Michael talking to Birkoff, asking him to repeat something he said. The next thing she knew, he had instructions going out to Walter and Tallie.

"Tallie, you're on your way here, now!" He stated firmly. "You pick up Key and get her back to the van with Walter." He still hadn't taken his eyes off the impending exchange on the tarmac. "Team one and two, I want the two operatives on the western most grid to break off and investigate Team three. They are not responding. I'll be there," he looked now at his watch, "in less than 10 minutes."

"Michael, what's......"

He held up his hand to stop her question and then spoke to Birkoff, "Birkoff, do not leave the van, no matter what you see. You'll have back up in less than five minutes." Now he switched his attention to her. "You'll remain here until Tallie comes for you." Then he glanced out to the tarmac, saw the exchange had been made, and still watching, he continued, "Team three is not responding, and I think they have been compromised." Michael then swept her with a glance that left her cold at first, then scared......for him.

She reached out took a firm hold on his arm and said, "Be very careful, Michael."

Michael disengaged her grip, and held her hand briefly, then with a quick squeeze, he released her, turned and loped off toward the wooded area. As soon as he disappeared in to the trees, Key edged away from the building, looked all directions, then heard a burst of automatic gun fire from the vicinity Chimera had gone with Thomas. The boy and his father were being pushed into an armored car by the British operatives, and Key decided in an instant to not wait on Tallie. She headed the same direction Michael had gone.

He had, at best, a two or three minute head start and the advantage of knowing where to go. Quickly she got her compass out, and then she pulled her gun and chambered a round. Heading west, she went carefully watching the forest floor and underbrush for signs of Michael's passage. The ground was soft from spring rains and she soon found his tracks. She followed much slower than she wanted because she didn't want to miss the trail. Time seemed to drag by as Key made her sweep of the area by looking and listening for anything unusual. Then she heard distant gunfire, not the chatter of an automatic, but straight rounds. She hit the ground with her arms out front, gun ready. After lying there for no more than sixty seconds, what surely felt like an eternity, the gunfire ceased. There was no movement coming her direction. Suddenly she heard a helicopter approaching. It got louder and louder, then it sounded like it held position and after another minute, it faded off to the north.

Key got to her feet and continued west toward the area she last heard the gun fire. A cold chill swept over her as she moved slowly, trying not to make any noise. Then she heard Tallie on the com-set. "Key, where are you?" He sounded more panicked than angry, "Birkoff, Key isn't here at the meet point."

She stopped then, and answered softly, "I'm in the woods, Tallie. There were shooters right after Michael left, so I followed him."

"Stop! Stay where you are Key!" Birkoff shouted, nearly blowing her eardrum. "Activate your tracker now," he paused, "Tallie, get to her quick."

"What's going on?" She asked, starting to panic. "I heard gun fire again, and then a helicopter. Are you okay, Birkoff?"

"I'm fine. Stay where you are, I'm picking up your signal. Tallie will be there shortly and he will take you back to Walter and the other van." Birkoff was speaking in short clipped words.

She knew something was terribly wrong, and started moving again. "Key! Stop! Stay put!" He commanded again.

"Birkoff, you aren't my boss. Where's Michael? Why haven't I heard him yelling at me?" She was really becoming alarmed now.

"Key!" Birkoff yelled again, "DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER!"

Then she saw what she wasn't supposed to see. The four Team three operatives all tied to trees facing each other in a circle......dead. Key ran past them searching the woods, now in full-blown panic. She started screaming, "Where's Michael?" Then to the area in general, "Michael, answer me, where are you?" Her hysteria increasing, she suddenly tripped and she looked down, this time at another operative (this one a backup named Simon from Team one) on the ground, also dead. As she swept the surrounding area, she saw three more bodies.

She became confused, started turning in circles, looking for him, praying the only way she knew how, "Oh God, please not Michael." Then she saw him, on the forest floor leaning against a tree. She ran to him, dropped and slid up to him on her knees. "Michael," her breath rushed out in a loud whisper and she took inventory quickly seeing the blood on his left hand that was pressing against his side. She jerked off her stocking hat, and pressed the thick knit against the wound. The bullet had hit him low, just where the Kevlar vest ended.

His face was white as paste, and while she watched for a sign he was conscious, he licked his lips and spoke softly, "Leave me. Get to the van with Birkoff, it's only....."

Key stopped him with fingers gently placed against his lips; "I'm not leaving you. Chimera is gone. I heard the helicopter pick them up. There's no more danger." She brushed some of his damp hair away from his eyes. "Look at me, open your eyes, Michael."

Slowly he opened them and she saw he was already in shock. His pupils were dilated and a very small amount of electric green was visible around them. Her hat was almost soaked with his blood, and she knew if they didn't get help soon, Michael would bleed to death. "Tallie will be here soon, we'll get you to a hospital."

Michael shook his head slowly. "No hospital. They won't take me."

"What do you mean they won't take you?" She asked incredulously.

"Can't afford to draw attention to this incident, that's what they want." He grimaced. "They need to believe they killed us all." His voice was weaker and he closed his eyes again.

"Michael, stay with me. Stay awake," she begged, then she reached out and took his main com-link. "Birkoff, where is Tallie? We need to evacuate Michael, now!"

"I'm right here, Key." Tallie came up behind her, squatted down with a hand on her shoulder, "how's he doing?"

She turned and whispered to him. "He's dying. We've got to get him out of here and find some help. Can you carry him to the van?"

"That's why I'm here." He moved her out of the way and started to pick Michael up. "You've got the com-link, tell everyone left to meet at Walter's van and egress to the air field."

The van was about 500 yards away, and to Tallie's credit, he moved quickly. Key issued the evacuation sequence and once they reached Birkoff, the first thing she did was demand to speak to Operations.

Birkoff didn't argue with her, all he could do was look at all the blood, on her, on Michael and then on Tallie. She pushed him to the floor beside Michael, found a blanket under one of the benches, then a clean towel. She instructed him to apply pressure to the wound and keep Michael warm. Tallie had started the van and headed out on the two track toward the airfield.

Then she heard Operations over Michael's com-link, "Birkoff....Report." He demanded. She threw Birkoff a look that suggested he keep his mouth shut.

"You've got eight dead and Michael's going to be number nine if you don't let us get medical help." She waited for a response.

"Miss Yager, put Tallie on, he is In Line command."

"Not right now. He's driving this van." She said bluntly. "I suggest you listen to me carefully. If we can't take Michael to a hospital, you better have a faster plane and a doctor waiting at that airfield."

"And if I don't?" He asked.

"I still have my gun chambered and I will.....how do you Section people refer to murder? oh yes... 'Cancel' Birkoff." She pointed her gun at Birkoff. "I don't think you can afford to loose him right now. He's the only one that is set up to track Thomas."

Birkoff looked up at her, his eyes huge, as the silence dragged on for a few moments. "Very well, you'll have your plane and doctor waiting." Another pause, "I understand the boy is safe and Mr. O'Neil is tracking well...... good job."

Key unchambered the round in her gun, ignored Operations last remark and handed Birkoff the com-link. She didn't want to be in charge or even think about Section anymore. She dropped to her knees and took over keeping pressure on Michael's wound. When they finally arrived at the airfield, the back doors to the mobile com were opened and two men with a stretcher were waiting. Key thought this was a very quick response to her demand and she assumed at this point the arrangements for Michael's care were already made when she did her 'play hardball act' with Operations. Now she felt a little foolish, but that moment passed quickly.

Once they were aboard the Lear jet, and she saw it was a full-blown medical facility, she not only breathed a sigh of relief, but she silently thanked Operations. They started pumping blood, fluids and antibiotics into Michael as soon as they got him on the plane. She knew he had to be stabilized before anything could be accomplished. There was a trauma surgeon and an anesthesiologist on board. When she told them she was a veterinarian, they drafted her to be the nurse. First they sent her to the shower room to clean up. It was going to take them less than half the time to fly back on this plane than on the C1-11 and they could also fly at a higher altitude, with less chance of turbulence.

She returned after her shower and they had the bleeding under control. The x-ray showed the bullet had lodged against Michael's hipbone. Thankfully instead of shattering the bone, the bullet had just chipped it. They were preparing him for surgery and Key asked if he had been conscious. The doctor motioned for her to come see for herself.

Key walked up to the table. Michael was as pale as the feathers on a snow goose and they had him swathed with blue surgical drape....but he was awake. She swallowed hard as she inched up closer to him. He was focusing on her, as well as he could. She knew he was in certain pain or at least pain blurred by the drugs.

Softly she said, "I'm so sorry, Michael." Then without thought she reached up to brush a hand across his forehead smoothing back the curls and wisps of damp hair.

He whispered, "Not sorry....mission successful." She watched him blink then swallow and she hurt for him.

"Look I know I broke all the rules today.....I just had this feeling there was danger and you were walking right into it. Something about the way Thomas looked at us as he walked by made me suspicious." She paused. "You need to rest, they are going to go ahead and remove the bullet." She smoothed down the drape across his chest and started to leave.

"Key." He said in a little stronger voice, "Not mad at you." He reached for her with his left hand and she turned to take it. His skin was so cool, almost clammy. She squeezed it, looked at those gorgeous eyes and died just a little more inside. Then she heard him ask, "Why?"

Thousands of alternative answers to that question flashed through her mind. Why what? Why did he get shot? Why did he loose half his team? Why did Chimera feel it necessary to kill innocent people to make a point? Why were they even trying to change that? He must have registered her confusion, she was sure it was painted all over her face. Then she felt him squeeze her hand with what had to be all the strength he had left and he whispered again, "Why?"

She looked at him with tears welling up in her eyes. The question she chose to answer was not any of the ones that had just run through her mind. When she looked in his eyes the question she saw him ask was, "why do you care about me?"

"Michael, you are a good person." She couldn't stop the tears as they tracked down her face and she took a deep breath to steady herself. " I understand you and where and why you hide that good part of yourself." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, moved her mouth to just beside his ear and whispered, "That's why I love you."

He made an audible gasp as he sucked in a breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it go as he squeezed his eyes shut. She straightened quickly, wiped her wet face with her free hand and said louder, "Don't you dare think you're going to get out of this by conveniently dying." She gently placed his hand back beside him on the table, smoothed her hand over his brow once more. Slowly he opened his eyes, and she saw what she wanted to see and she managed a slight smile before she stepped back. The anesthesiologist moved to the IV on Michael's other side and turned up the drip on his medication, preparing to take him under for the surgery.

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