The briefing started when Operations clicked on the holographic screen, showing the image of a handsome, smiling man with blue eyes and black hair. Nikita leaned forward to look at him more closely; there was something about his eyes... what was it that was so familiar? It came to her as a shock; this man had the same dead, vacant expression in his eyes as Charles Manson...

"Jason O'Brian is a viscious pyschopath with an insatiable appetite for carnage," Operations began. "He is an assasin and arms dealer. He was initially on the top of our list of suspects for the Oklahoma City bombing. It had his trademark of excessive collateral damage."

Operations clicked off the screen. "He likes to slaughter the innocents."

Michael asked, "Why are we targeting him now?"

"Because he's escalating. We believe he has plans to buy and sell nuclear triggers. He may all ready have some in his possession," replied Operations.

Walter winced. "And you think this guy would use them himself for entertainment?"

"We KNOW it." Operations face was grim.

"Weaknesses?" asked Michael.

"We hope so," responded Madeleine. "Birkoff, anything?"

"Yes." Birkoff looked around the table. "He has a daughter, Beth."

"Does she work with him?" asked Madeleine.

"No, just the opposite. This is what we found out. Not only no 'gray' days, but shiny, golden ones, too. She's Little Mary Sunshine, in fact. Sunday School, volunteer work..."

"What kind of volunteer work?"

"Let's see," Birkoff paused to check his laptop. "Center for the Blind and Hospice," he told Madeleine.

"Interesting. The handicapped and the dying." She paused. "She's trying to compensate for the damage her father has done. Is there more?"

Birkoff nodded and continued. "At Sunday School she taught an eight week Adult class. Wrote the lessons herself, each week a different topic of her choice."

"What were they? Can you get transcripts?"

Birkoff nodded again. "All ready got it." He handed her a disk. "Let's see... Mercy, Forgiveness, Random Acts of Kindness, Love Thy Neighbor... Sheeesh! Pollyanna City."

"We'll use it." Madeleine seemed pleased. "Michael, get ready."

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

Michael stood on the corner at the busy intersection, blocking the flow of traffic on the crowded sidewalk. People detoured around him, no one saying anything rude because of his dark glasses and his telltale white cane.

Beth sauntered leisurely down the street toward him; she was enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of this year's Street Fair. Families, food vendors, craft booths, and strolling clowns and acrobats spilled over the sidewalk and encroached on the road, where a tangle of cars slowly inched their way through the pageantry.

She noticed his cane simultaneously with his stunning good looks. Too bad he can't enjoy looking in the mirror, she thought.

Michael saw her approach from a block away and studied her through the dark glasses. She was pretty, very pretty, with the same coloring as her father. She was smiling and enjoying herself, stopping to watch the jugglers and browsing in the booths.

It was when she got a little closer that he saw the scar. It ran jaggedly down from her right temple, against her ear, and extended down her the side of her neck to dissapear into the collar of her coat. She had been burned.

Beth stopped in front of Michael when she reached his corner. "Excuse me, but do you need any help? Are you trying to get across the street?"

"No, but thank you for asking. I'm waiting for the transportation van to pick me up."

"They told you to meet them here??" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," he said, adding, "at the corner of Fourth and Elm."

Beth shook her head. "I hate to tell you this, but you're one block off. This is Fifth and Elm."

"Could you be so kind as to point me in the right direction?" he said, chagrined.

Beth gave a little laugh. "I could, but, no offense, you'd still get lost. This square is a zoo. Let me walk you there; is that O.K.?"

"That's great, thanks." He smiled widely. "I never mind being helped by a beautiful woman."

She was startled, but managed to reply with a smile, "Now, how would you know if I'm beautiful?"

"I just know."

Beth's smile faded. "No, you don't know." She sighed, but then regained her good mood. "You just know how to flirt."

He put out his hand in the air between them. "I'm Michael."

"Hi, I'm Beth." She shook his hand, and then retaining the grasp, turned and placed his hand on her shoulder. That way when she stopped or turned he could feel and follow her movements.

They made their way slowly across the street. Reaching the other side, she warned him of the upcoming curb. Michael said from behind her, "You've helped people with white canes before."

"Oh yes, for years!" she replied. "The first was a friend in school. I helped her get around to her classes." Beth laughed and continued. "Kim was sooo short, a little over four feet tall, maybe. We couldn't do the hand on the shoulder thing, so we held hands in the hallways." Beth laughed again. "This was way before Lesbian Chic; we sure attracted attention wherever we went."

Michael's voice was almost sad. "I hope you're not."

"Not what?" she said, puzzled.

"Not lesbian. I hope you like men."

Beth realized he was back in flirt-mode. "Now why is that?" she asked dryly.

"Because you're smart, beautiful, talented, and disposed to be kind to me..." He used his most sensuous voice in her ear.

This guy is too smooth, she thought. "Wow, I can't believe you need anymore girlfriends, Michael. With a line like that and your looks, you need that cane to use to beat them off."

Michael put on an innocent, puppy-dog expression. "I'm new here in town. I might need you to hold my hand again.."

Beth was relieved and at the same time dissapointed to see the black van pull up to the curb in front of them. "Here comes your ride, I think."

She turned to look at him, noting with shock he had removed the glasses. His green eyes looked intently into hers. The grip on her shoulder tightened. "Please get in the van."

A moment later the van pulled out into traffic; the only trace left of their encounter was the white cane abandoned in the gutter.

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

"This is about my father, isn't it?" Beth said from the metal chair in the sterile white room.

She was strapped down by her wrists and ankles. She twisted her head around to try and see all the faces observing her.

She knew Michael was behind her. To her left was the beautiful blonde woman she had met in the van. She looked at Beth almost apologetically, and threw Michael an angry glance.

An elegantly dressed dark-eyed woman came into her line of sight. "Good afternoon, Miss O'Brian."

"Is this Section One?"

Madeleine's face registered surprise."You've heard of us?"

"Discretion is not one of my father's strong points. Although I've done my best to distance myself from him and his repulsive activities, I've still heard things..."

Michael circled around her chair and leaned his back against the wall in front of her. He remained silent, but watched her intently as Madeleine continued.

"We're sorry to disturb your afternoon's enjoyment, but we're confident you can help us put an end to those repulsive activities, as you call them.."

"No, please don't do this! Whatever your plan is, it won't work." She looked past Madeleine and directly at Michael. "Your people will only end up being hurt."

"You should just let us worry about that," Madeleine said soothingly.

Beth grew more agitated and looked imloringly at Nikita. "He doesn't care about me. I'm no good to you as leverage."

"Oh, but we think you are." Madeleine stroked back a lock of her hair.

Beth leaned against Madeleine's hand and tilted her head so that her hair fell away from the horrid scar. "Damn it, look at me! HE DOESN'T CARE! He did this to me..." She gasped and continued. "He was bored one night. I happened to be around and provided him some entertainment." A tear ran down one cheek. "He burned me. He smiled the whole time.. "

She looked beseechingly back at Michael. "It amused him. I was fourteen."

Nikita felt the nausea rise in her throat. Only a few weeks ago, she had defended Lisa Fanning against her abusive husband, and she had tried to shield her from Section One and the emotional devastation of Michael's betrayal. This was so much worse. Her anger on Beth's behalf was equally directed against her monster of a father and the callous machinations of Section One.

"Please, don't do this. He won't come for me. Please, don't risk your people on a plan that won't work." She hung her head and her hair fell forward again across the scars.

"Thank you for your concern," said Madeleine softly, "but we know what we're doing. He'll come for you."

Madeleine motioned for Michael to follow her out. At the doorway, she said, "Nikita, stay with her until everything's ready."

Nikita said nothing, but Michael saw that her eyes focused on him and contained the full expression of her loathing.

He dropped his gaze from hers and followed Madeleine slowly from the room.

***********

Nikita sat on a chair across from Beth and looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry about this. And I'm sorry about what your father did to you." Being abused by a parent was something Nikita understood.

Beth nodded and shifted in the chair. "For years I tried to please him, to get him to love me. I thought if only I was better somehow, smarter, or prettier, that he would care. That he would change..." She shook her head and continued. "It was a great relief to finally realize what he was that he is incapable of loving anyone..."

"You must hate him," said Nikita.

"No, I don't hate him. I pity him. He's the worst kind of cripple-a sociopath. He'll never know how to love.."

Nikita sat up straighter in her chair and then leaned forward. She recalled her own mother's rages, the stinging words that hurt far worse than the beatings. She recalled the devastating, irrevocable moment when her mother threw her out to live on the streets.

"Beth, you're not angry, are you? About what he did to you then and what he does now. How is that? How can you be so.... forgiving ?" Nikita was genuinely confused about Beth's inexplicable inner peace.

Beth tilted her head and looked at her. "I had to be. Otherwise the hatred would have eaten away at me. I had to be forgiving of us both."

Nikita gasped. "You BOTH? What did you have to be forgiven for?"

"For not being perfect; for not being able to do impossible things, like give him a heart. For not fixing him, changing him.."

"Nikita asked softly, "How did you do that? Forgive?"

Beth closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. "I don't know, really. I guess I just realized that he has no control over what he does; that it's just the way he is. And that it wasn't ME. I could have been more than perfect and it would have changed nothing. I forgave myself for not saving him.."

Nikita flashbacked on her mother's face. Were there any tender moments? She couldn't recall. She did remember her attempts to please her mother. All failed attempts.

Maybe I should quit blaming myself, Nikita thought. She sighed, and relaxed into the chair. A peaceful expression, not quite a smile, played over her face. Some inner wound, one of the many, was slowly healing...

Madeleine turned off the monitor on which she had been observing Beth and Nikita. She stood up from her desk and began pacing, her mind racing furiously about how to use this to Section's advantage.

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

Madeleine was briefing Michael and Nikita. It was just the three of them at the long table.

"Everything you need is already there in the room. It won't take long."

Michael nodded, looking particularly impassive.

Nikita wasn't sure she wanted to know, but asked anyway. "Just what is it we're doing?"

"We're having an online hook-up with O'Brian in a few hours. We'll discuss the terms of the exchange then." Madeleine paused. "You and Michael must see to it that Beth makes a certain impression.."

Nikita tensed. She didn't like where this was going. "Madeleine, what does that mean?"

"It means I want you to rough her up. Leave bruises. We also need to take a certain amount of blood from her.."

Nikita flinched. "But why? Why?"

Michael wouldn't look at her as he answered. "Because O'Brian is not a man to take subtle hints. We have to send him a very clear message that we are in control of her and are as willing to ...inflict damage as he is."

"That will be all," said Madeleine. "Go."

Nikita waited until she made eye-contact with Michael. She threw him a look that said clearly 'you disgust me.' Then she stood up and followed him reluctantly down the hallway.

They entered the white-tiled room and stopped before Beth.

She already knew something unpleasant was coming and was strugglingly against the restraints. Her breaths came short and ragged.

She didn't speak. Pleading had gotten her nowhere so far.

Michael took a step toward her and raised his hand back to strike her. Nikita's hands were balled into fists at her side. Michael saw the pleading look in her eyes and froze. He couldn't do it.

He dropped his hand and walked to the medical cart. Silently he started rolling up the sleeve of his turtleneck. He swabbed the exposed skin with alcohol and positioning the needle, began drawing a large vial of his own blood.

Both women were stunned. Both were still, watching him.

Michael capped the vial and picked up scissors from the tray. He expertly slit open Beth's sleeve and started wrapping her untouched skin with bandages.

"Nikita," he said, not taking his eyes from what he was doing, "do you have any eyeshadow?"

Nikita was out of the room in a few seconds.

When she returned, Michael was applying some blood from the vial to Beth's nostril, letting it drip realistically down to her lip.

He took the makeup case from Nikita. "Now let's see about giving you a black-eye..."

Nikita squeezed Michael's shoulder and smiled gratefully at him. Turning to Beth, she saw that the younger girl's eyes were filled with tears of relief.

"Don't cry," said Nikita, taking a tube of eyeshadow from Michael. "You'll ruin your make-up."

Beth cried harder, as both operatives bent over her to complete their assignment.

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

"My precious Baby! My little girl! Are you all right?" O'Brian looked anxiously at his daughter's image on the screen.

"Daddy?" Beth was shocked that her father looked worried. No, not worried. Distraught.

Operations moved into O'Brian's line of sight. He bent over Beth in the chair and pulled her head up by the hair at the back of her neck.

The bruise was huge and long. Her face was pale. Operations held up the vial. "We tested her, Jason." He smiled. "Her bone marrow matches yours perfectly." He released his grip on Beth and stood up. "You know it's the only thing standing between you and your slow death from leukemia."

Beth sat stunned. She kicked herself for thinking that he actually cared for minute. As always, it was about the only person he did care about---himself. A sob escaped her.

"What do you want?"

Operations answered gleefully. "We want all the nuclear triggers in your possesion and the names and locations of the sellers. Give them to us, and you get to live."

Beth saw her father gaze at her longingly. The look made her feel even more dehumanized than the time when he burned her. She was a commodity, nothing more.

"Agreed," O'Brian said eagerly. "Where and when?"

It was the quietest time of the morning, before dawn set the birds to singing. The sky over the long bridge was just beginning to show color. This morning the quiet was disturbed by the sound of several vehicles at each end of the bridge.

Two figures walked slowly toward each other from opposite ends of the bridge. They met in the center.

O'Brian embraced his daughter, almost hungrily. "My Beth, my darling girl," he said, crushing her against his chest.

Beth stood numbly in despair. Section One seemed more like a safe haven, a merciful oasis, compared to being here in her father's grasp.

Beth felt his embrace loosen and his body jerk as the bullets hit him.

They collapsed together to the ground. From both sides came the deafening exchange of gunfire over their heads.

Beth twisted around, trying to lift her head up. The last thing she saw was Michael aiming his gun at her and pulling the trigger.

**********

Beth opened her eyes. Once again she was in the sterile white room, lying on a cot.

Madeleine's voice said behind her, "How do you feel?"

She sat up very slowly. There was a sore spot on her neck and she felt groggy. "Surprised. I feel surprised to be waking up at all." Beth looked at Madeleine. "How come I'm not dead?"

"We hit you with a tranq dart."

"And my father?"

"He'll never hurt anyone again." Madeleine did not go into the details of O'Brian's interrogation and disposal. Madeleine had not felt this so defiled, unclean, and contaminated since her encounter with Gregor Kessler.

Beth closed her eyes tightly and hung her head. Madeleine thought she might be praying.

Beth sat up straighter after a minute and looked at her. "You were right, then. You did know what you were doing."

She paused. "Why did you keep me alive? Are you going to let me go?"

Madeleine smiled a tiny smile. "No, you know better than that. We have made other plans for you."

Beth bit her lower lip. "If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer a quick bullet to being the guinea pig in your Torture 101 classes."

Madeleine's smile grew bigger. "No, that's not at all what I have in mind for you. I want you to work for us; I want you to work with me. Section One would hate to see your obvious talents go to waste..."

Beth held perfectly still for a moment, then shook her head. Her voice was low and level. "No, Madeleine, you'll have to kill me. I can't do what you do. I won't."

She looked up at her calmly. "I didn't know it then, but I know it now. When my father burned me, my life path had been set. Please understand, I want--I need-- my life to be about healing. Not physical healing, but ...soul healing. I know I have a mission in this life to restore to people their dignity and self-respect. To bring them peace."

Beth took a deep breath and said earnestly, "If my life can't be about that, then you need to kill me now."

"Good," said Madeleine. " Our goals mesh perfectly." She paused. "There'll be a place for you in Psych Rehab..."

Beth gaped at her, speechless.

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

Nikita stopped at Birkoff's work station and sat down.

Annoyed, Birkoff gave her a What Now? look.

"Hi, Birkoff," she said. "I was just wondering if you still had that file with Beth O'Brian's sermons on it?"

"Sure." He handed her a disk and returned his attention to his monitor. "This is all I need...," he said under his breath.

"What's that?" she asked.

He shook his head, indicating the disk she was loading into the computer. "I don't need you to turn into another Little Miss Goody Two Shoes on me. Beth already is more sweetness and light than I can handle."

"No problem, Birkoff." She made a rude gesture.

"Right. Why was I worried?" He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work.

Nikita searched through the file until she found the passage she wanted. Beth had written:

"Basically, none of us has control over what happens to us in life, over what we encounter. The only thing we do have control over is how we deal with those things, how we react.

"In an impossible situation, what have we done to ameliorate the pain, in even the slightest way? It is in these small acts of helping and kindness that our greatness lies..."

The passage ended with a quote from Mother Teresa: "We cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love."

Nikita turned off the computer and sat lost in thought.

She recalled Michael's actions to spare Beth. And how he had lied to Section about Julie.

The image of him supporting the young marine who had been held hostage filled her mind.

She realized that Michael had saved Gray's life. She had been too angry at him at the time for that fact to register.

Nikita's heart softened. Maybe she didn't need to feel so wounded by everything he did. Maybe forgiveness was possible. She would try....

She removed the disk from the drive and handed it back to Birkoff.

"Get all the saccharine you needed?" he asked.

"Yes, Birkoff, I got exactly what I needed." She leaned toward him and smiled. Then she kissed him fully and sweetly on the mouth. "Thanks, Seymour."

Birkoff sat, stunned, watching her leave. He looked down at the disk in hand, then to Nikita's retreating form, and back again.

Hhmm. Maybe I should assign Gail this as reading material. If she has the same reaction as Nikita, she might send a few 'random acts of kindness' my way, he thought cynically. Naww, he said to himself. He threw the disk on the table and went back to work.

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