Renee tried hard not to panic as she watched the young man's blood seep through her fingers. She pressed down more firmly on the makeshift bandage consisting of her once pretty pale yellow blouse and white sweater, both now wedged into the gunshot wound on the top of his thigh. Her jacket was rolled up and supported his head.

"Hey, hey...how are you doing?" she whispered tentatively. There was no response. Reaching out with her free hand, she removed the black mask concealing his features. Thick, wavy hair spilled onto her fingers. His green eyes were open, but were glassy and held no recognition in them. Something small clattered on the floor. A tiny microphone? Renee held it up and could hear, just barely, a faraway young voice.

"Michael, come in. Michael, report. Please.."

An overwhelming wave of relief washed over her. She was no longer alone. Alone to face the terrorists who had shot the police officer here at her feet and to bear all the responsibility of keeping him alive. She expelled her breath sharply in a sigh of relief and fumbled with the tiny, black tool.

"Swat team! Are you there? Please help me! SWAT team!"

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

It had started out as a really boring day of running errands, she reflected. Today had been her day off fom her nursing job and she had stopped by at the office building where her girlfriend worked to see if she was free for lunch. Then the boredom and any sense of routine ended.

While she was strolling down the corridor to her friend's office, she was startled by the sound of gunfire in the lobby below and almost simultaneously she heard glass shattering. Most terrifying of all had been the screams.

Running to the nearest door, her only thought was to hide. The sound of her heart beating was almost deafening in her ears and sparkling dots appeared before her eyes. She willed herself not to faint. The knee well of the sturdy wood desk looked like a good spot. She was just moving toward it when there were footsteps in the hallway and the door was flung open.

It was over in a second. One moment the gun barrel was aimed at her, held by a young blond man, with rumpled jeans and long dishwater-blond hair. All she could see in that moment were his pale eyes relecting no mercy. Frozen to the spot, she waited for the blast.

The gun fired, but she felt no pain. The cold-eyed shooter had been hit by someone in the hallway. Renee could barely see a black-clad figure aiming into the office. She watched in shock as the blonde returned fire before being felled by another bullet from the hero's gun.

Some inner resource kicked in and took over. Suddenly, she knew exactly what to do. Peeking out into the corridor, she saw that no one was there but the prone form of the man who had saved her life. She half dragged, half carried him the short distance into the office and shut the door. She began treating the gushing wound in his thigh, ignoring completely the body lying just a few feet from her.

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

"Swat team, are you there? Please!" Renee was beginning to think she had lost her connection- her ONLY connection--to help.

Birkoff answered her tentatively. "Who are you? Who's this? Where's Michael?"

She took a deep breath and decided to pretend she was reporting on a patient to the head nurse a work. She fought to control the tremor in her voice.

"I'm Renee Cook. Your police officer has been shot. He's bleeding pretty badly. Can you help get him out of here? He needs to be at the hospital NOW."

Birkoff didn't like what he had to tell her, but he had no choice. "The gunmen have our people pinned down in the lobby. I need you to do exactly what I say, O.K.?"

Again, an unlikely calm came over her. She trusted this voice. "O.K. Tell me what to do."

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

"All right, Renee, listen carefully. In Michael's vest pocket youl'll find a round object, sort of like a golf ball. Let me know when you find it".

"Understood." Still pressing her hand tightly to the wound to stop the bleeding, she tentatively used her free hand to feel the vest pockets.

Michael stirred under her touch and uttered a groan. His head came up a little off the makeshift pillow and she realized his eyes now held the comprehension they had lacked before and were focused on her.

"Uhhh, whaat...?" His voice was low and so soft she could barely hear him.

Renee paused to smile reassuringly at him. "Shhh, hey, it's O.K. It's going to be all right. I'm talking to your teammates right now and they're going to get you out of here." She gently touched his shoulder.

"Do you have the device?" Birkoff's voice came,startling, in her ear.

She turned again to Michael."Where's the golf ball thing? Can you tell me?"

Michael, in pain and beyond speech, managed to gesture to his right breast pocket for a moment and then lay still.

She removed the dark, round device and placed it carefully on the floor. She suddenly realized how she must look, with just her bra covering he while her clothes were wadded up on the leg wound.Blood smeared her hands and torso. She tried not to think about it being either Michael's or the Terrorist's. Her hand went to her hair and removed her hairband. She then used it to secure the bandages to Michael's leg.

"O.K., got it. What now?" The voice returned. "Go out in the hall and to the stairs."

Gazing back at Michael, she told him, "I'll be right back. Hang in there." She squeezed his hand as she stood up, as much to give herself strength as to reassure him. Cautiously, she moved into the hallway.

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

The hallway was empty. She could hear voices and whimpers from the lobby. With her back up against the wall, Renee inched toward the stairway.

"I'm at the stairs. What do I do?"

Birkoff spoke to her through the ear piece. "Twist the top half of the ball clockwise. Drop it down the stairs, and then run like hell."

She gulped and goosebumps covered her arms at his words. Her stomach did cartwheels and acrobatics.

"Gotcha. Here goes."

Swiftly, she gave the device a sharp twist and tossed it down the steps. Flying down the hall, she skidded back into the office, pulling the door shut behind her.

Michael lay where she left him, again, vainly trying to sit up.

"Sorry if this hurts you, love, but we need to hide NOW." Actions and words came at the same time as she dragged him by the vest just a few feet to right to position them under the desk.

She lay down across his body, covering him just in time when the blast went off. The concussion bomb shook the room under her and small bits of ceiling debris stung her exposed back.

The noise finally faded and she got her breath back. Propping herself again up on her elbows, she checked on the man she thought of as her patient. "Are you all right?"

Before she could receive an answer, there were footsteps at the door. Instinctively she grabbed the gun from its holster on the uninjured leg and turning, held it out in front of her while backing up protectively against Michael to shield him.

She screamed as the door was kicked in. Simultaneously Birkoff's voice in the headset said," Our people should be coming in now."

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

The van rumbled through the peaceful streets toward Section One. Inside, it was not as peaceful.

"How much longer 'til we get to the hospital?" Renee asked anxiously. She looked to the blonde woman dressed in black for an answer. An older, gray-haired man with earrings had very gallantly given her his leather jacket to wear. The remaining occupant in the van was the shockingly young owner of the voice in the headset.

The young woman's startling blue eyes gazed past her, then shifted downward."Soon, we'll be there soon."

The wounded man lay stretched out on the long side seat. Every now and then he would moan softly and toss his head.

"Look, I'm a nurse. I'm going to do everything I can to help. We have to keep him from going further into shock. What do you have to drink?"

Walter looked back at her. She realized he didn't quite understand her. She almost felt like laughing if the situation wasn't so damn grim.

"I don't mean for me! and I don't mean something alcoholic, either. Do you have any juice or water?"

Birkoff's eyes brightened as he said, "Will this do?" He pulled out two bottles of lemon-lime soda from behind his seat.

"Great! He also needs to be kept warm and have his legs elevated." Renee sat on the seat at Michael's feet and carefully lifted his legs across her lap.

"What's your name?" she asked the blonde woman.

"Nikita."

"Nikita, you sit supporting his shoulders and help him drink, all right?"

Walter lifted Michael's shoulders up from the seat while Nikita slipped in behind him. They leaned him back gently until his shoulders were resting against Nikita's. She put one arm around him while the other gently held the bottle to his lips. He managed to swallow a little.

"That's good. Keep on doing that." Renee instructed.

Birkoff looked over at them. "What can I do?" he asked.

"Take his pulse for me," she responded, adding,"in his wrist."

Birkoff sat on the bench in the middle of the vehicle and held the wrist deftly in one hand and looking at his watch on the other. He gave her a number after a minute.

"Excellent. Keep me informed, O.K.?"

Birkoff actually smiled a little.

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

After a few more reluctant swallows of soda, Michael coughed and gasped.His skin was an alarmingly pale shade of ivory. His eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back against Nikita's neck.

"What do we do?" Nikita demanded.

"Keep him awake!" Renee didn't want to think about the possibility of a coma. "Talk to him. Say things to keep his interest, but keep it reassuring."

Walter, who was standing, now sat down next to Birkoff and leaned toward Michael.

"Hey, Michael,I don't know how you do it. This has got to some kind of record for you, huh?"

Michael opened his eyes and focused. One eyebrow lifted in a question.

Walter continued in the only style he knew how. "Yea, you really can charm the ladies. This pretty little nurse knew you for---how long? Two minutes, maybe?" A big grin lit Walter's face as he delivered his punch line. "Two minutes and she had her top off and her hand on your leg. You gotta admire smooth work like that."

Renee blushed bright red, noticing at the same time that Nikita did the same. Birkoff and Walter were smiling. To their great delight, Michael gave a small laugh.

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

Renee battled between bursting into tears or making a snappy comeback. The past few hours had been the most stressful time she could remember. Swallowing her tears, she gave Michael and the others her best smile. "Yes, Michael is very special. I noticed that."

Leaning forward, she took Michael's fingertips into her hand and looked at him intently.

"You saved my life. Thank you."

Michael nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, then closed his eyes.

Renee looked up at Nikita, still cradling Michael against her. "Nikita, can you check and see if he has a temperature?"

Nikita put down the bottle she had been holding and very tenderly used both hands to caress his temples. Then she put the back of one hand against his forehead and laid the other on his neck, twining her fingers in the thick curls. "No, I don't think so. He feels fine to me."

Nikita looked away from Renee and back down at Michael. His eyes were now open and his gaze rested lovingly on Nikita's face. Nikita smiled at him and she lowered her hand and rested it against Michael's cheek.

Renee looked at them thoughtfully and smiled to herself. "He loves her," she thought. "I could have been naked and doing handstands and he wouldn't notice me if Nikita was in the room."

The lovers would make a charming tableau if only he wasn't injured, Renee mused on.

She roused herself to get back to business. "Birkoff, his pulse?"

This time the reading was better and less erratic. Renee noticed a little color had returned to Michael's face.

Turning to the two men, she said,"He's definitely going to make it. But why aren't we at the hospital yet? "

A frisson of unease swept her as she noticed the look Walter and Birkoff exchanged between them.

"Sugar, it'll be O.K. But the fewer questions you ask the better off you'll be."

Walter's kindly advice unnerved her. Renee sensed that somehow the terrors of this day were not yet over.

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

Despite Nikita's murmured reassurances to her, the hood had been terrifying. It had been bliss to have it removed. That had been about a half hour ago.

Renee now sat with her knees up to her chest on the small cot in the spartan room. Besides the cot, there were two chairs and that was it. The glare from the gleaming white tile and bright lights was almost painful. The only breaks in the monotonous expanse of tile were the two doors. One to the outside, whatever that was, and one to the bathroom. Renee had been able to shower off the blood and grime and was now wearing the white sweatpants and T-shirt that had been laid out on the cot for her.

Questions swirled in her head, so many crowding in for her attention. She had no answers for any of them. The fear was making it hard to think coherently. She jumped convulsively as the "outside" door opened.

Renee let out a breath and relaxed enough to smile and say "Hi" back to the pretty brunette woman who greeted her.

"Madelaine seems nice." Renee thought. "Maybe things will be all right afterall."

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

"How are you feeling, Miss Cook?" Madelaine asked her sympathetically. She took a seat in one of the chairs and looked at Renee warmly.

"I'm fine. A little scared, I guess..."

"That's understandable, but there's no need." She smiled. "All we need from you are the answers to a few questions and then you can go home."

A laugh, only partially hysterical, escaped her.

"What's so funny, Miss Cook?" Madelaine observed her calmly.

"I..I'm sorry, it's just..." Renee composed herself and looked at her. "It's just that I am so totally clueless about this whole wierd day.."

She took a deep breath and continued earnestly. "There are so many questions I'd like to ask you. Who were the people in the building, the ones who broke in? Was anyone hurt? My friend works in that building; I was going to see her. Can you find out for me if she's all right?"

Madelaine looked at her steadily for a moment. Renee knew she was being analysed, but couldn't figure out what conclusions the older woman was making from her inscrutable face.

"What is your friend's name?"

"Kelly Jamison." Renee told her eagerly. "She's a secretary on the second floor."

"Did you see your friend? Was she expecting you?"

"No, no...I just stopped in on the spur of the moment to see if she was free. I never saw her."

Madelaine leaned forward , looking into her eyes. "Now answer me very carefully. Who exactly did you see and who saw you?"

Renee rubbed her hands together for warmth. They had suddenly for some reason turned cold. She tried to ignore her sudden chill and continued.

"No one but the guy who tried to kill me and your officer on the SWAT team that saved my life. His name is Michael. I don't know his last name. Is he going to be all right?"

Madelaine sighed and rose from her chair. Renee assumed she had finished her assessment of her, but couldn't be sure what that assessment was. The only thing Renee was sure of was that Madelaine was satisfied with her conclusion.

"Yes, I believe everyone is going to be all right. Michael, your friend, and you."

Madelaine gave her one last and, it seemed to Renee, perhaps geniuine smile before she turned and left the room.

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

Two hours later, Operations was almost finished with his discussion with Madelaine. He took a satisfying drag on his cigarette, blew it lazily out, and smiled. " All in all, I'd say the mission was a great success." He took another happy puff. "Zando's men were taken out with no innocent collateral and miminal exposure. We're also, fortunately, not going to have to do without Michael." His smile grew broader.

Madelaine smiled back and came to stand next to him. "It couldn't have been done without our Miss Cook. If she hadn't been there, we might have lost Michael and had an uncontained situation. She proved very resourceful."

Operations looked back at her. "My, my, I thought you had planned on releasing her, but it sounds like recruiting her is on your mind."

Madelaine gave a little laugh. "No, no, I haven't changed my mind. Renee is too much like Nikita. Her humanity would get in the way of being a good operative for the Section." She turned to leave the room. "I'm going now to have a final talk with her before we send her on her way."

Out of idle curiosity, Operations set his laptop monitor so he could observe the room where Madelaine and Renee were talking.

"...and as long as you speak to no one about today's events, you and everything you love will be fine." Madelaine concluded her speech with a smile. "You can go now if there's nothing else."

"No, yes..I mean, there is something else." Renee realized she could be making a serious, if not deadly, mistake by delaying Madelaine. But somehow, she didn't think so. The instincts that had led her to cope with the overwhelming challenges of this day were now pressing her to take this next step. The inner calm was back, and the sure Knowledge from some deep space inside that this was an imperative, soul-making thing she must do.

She licked her lips and began. "Madelaine, I don't want anything from you. I just need to tell you something, O.K.?"

In his office, Operations cocked his head and listened.

"I want to thank you for what you do. I am profoundly grateful."

Madelaine's face registered surprise. This was the last comment she had expected.

Renee continued, "You see, I've been sitting here thinking about what you do and what I do, and there's no comparison." She looked up into Madelaine's face. "I help people as a nurse. I even have to deal with death on a daily basis, but not like you do." "Michael could have died. He risked his life for me." Her voice caught as she said, "This may sound corny, but I mean this. The Good Book says that to risk your life for another is the highest form of Love." She shook her head in wonderment. "I gather saving people's lives is an everyday thing for you."

Madelaine stood very still, listening intently.

Renee looked into her eyes. "How many people did you save today, besides me and my friend? How many lives did you save this week?"

Renee stood up and touched Madelaine's shoulder lightly, almost reverently. Her voice held nothing but the deepest respect. "How many? Try to count them, because that's how many jewels will be in the crown you'll wear in Heaven."

Madelaine mutely opened the door for Renee. There was an operative waiting in the hallway, ready to escort her out. Renee gave a stunned Madelaine a quick hug and "thank You" before following th man out.

"Damn!" said Operations to himself. "We should have made that kid our Morale Officer!"

The End

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