It was a beautiful Fall day. Christie breathed in the crisp air and smiled at how the golden light caught the leaves along the path, the light breeze making them dance. They shimmered and rustled, it seemed to her, like the golden bangles on a belly dancer. She had the whole park to herself. She smiled at the peace.

She was at the end of the jogging path and was just about to turn around when she heard running steps behind her. She turned to see three men, all dressed in black, racing toward her.

Through the trees, she could see a black van keeping pace with the men on the road beside the jogging trail. Christie veered sharply left, running back into the deep woods of the park.

It was her only option. Gasping and trembling with fear, she raced through the trees and fallen leaves, her adrenaline pumping. They were gaining on her.

Panic engulfed her. This is how a deer feels when the wolves are about to leap, she thought.

The wolves leapt.

Suddenly, she was face down on the leaf-strewn ground with her arm twisted behind her back. Her screams were stifled by the hood they placed over her head.

The leaves still danced brightly along the path; they were the only witnesses to the van departing to Section One.

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

Michael left Operations' office and walked quickly down the hallway. He had been told the van had arrived with their captured target, and he was on his way to the holding cell to fulfill his orders concerning her.

Since Nikita had been lost on the last Shays mission, Madeleine seemed to assign him to duties involving young women, as if to distract him. Maybe she thought he needed someone new to care about, but so far that hadn't happened. The wounds were too deep, too raw and fresh.

This time, the one he had been assigned to watch over was an innocent.

Michael opened the door to the white room and entered. Two operatives were strapping Christie down to the gurney. One of the men, Jerry, was laughing a little in enjoyment as his hands roved over her, one slipping under her thin T-shirt under her open jacket, the other sliding up her thigh. The girl whimpered, and tried to twist away from his touch.

Instantly, Michael was on him. Jerry found himself with his throat being constricted by Michael's arm across it, and one wrist painfully twisted up behind his back.

In his ear, Michael spoke with deadly calm. "Do this again, and you're cancelled." He tightened the pressure on Jerry's windpipe. "Is that understood?"

Jerry couldn't speak, but managed to nod.

Michael released him. "Get out, both of you." His mouth was set in a grim line as he glared at them.

The men left quickly.

Michael turned back to look at Christie. She was still struggling against the bonds, her eyes full of fear.

Michael took in a sharp breath. She even looked a little like Nikita; she had the same slender fragility. This Christie was shorter, though, and slightly curvier.

"I'm sorry about that." He touched one lock of her short, blonde hair gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The fear shone unabated in her eyes He had seemed genuinely angry with Jerry, but she wasn't sure. Maybe they were playing some good cop/bad cop game with her. Although why, she had no idea.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" she said, panting.

Michael didn't answer. He lifted the cellphone to his lips and gave a brief order. "Come in," he said.

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

"Who are you?" Christie shouted.

"My name is Michael. We need you to stay with us for a while. At the end of your stay, we'll...."

"You'll kill me," Christie said, closing her eyes and lying still.

"We'll release you," Michael finished.

The door opened and two people in white lab coats entered, pushing a medical cart between them. Although one was a tall man and the other a short woman, they looked incredibly alike. Christie thought it was because of the expression, or lack of it, in their eyes. They frightened her more than Jerry did.

Michael nodded at them, and the woman moved to pull one sleeve of Christie's jacket down her arm. The man picked up a long needle from the tray.

"Don't, please! Please, don't drug me..." Christie pleaded.

The woman ignored her, and started swabbing her arm with alcohol. The man positioned the needle and inserted it into a vein. "No drugs," he said. "We're drawing blood."

The woman held her arm down while he proceeded. Christie gave up struggling and looked over at Michael. "What's the matter? You can't go to the Red Cross?" She shook her head. "This makes no sense."

"You don't have to understand," Michael answered. "Just co-operate."

The 'Twins', as Christie now thought of them, took the full plastic I.V. bag of blood and left.

Michael approached her and released the restraints. Christie got shakily up from the cot, staggering away from him, her back against the wall.

He poured orange juice from a thermos carafe on the tray into a paper cup and held it out to her. "This will help with the weakness."

Christie stared warily at him, making no move to take the cup.

Michael smiled slightly at her. "It's O.K., it's just juice, see?" He said, and took a small sip of it himself. He held it out to her again.

"Drink," he said firmly.

She knew a veiled threat when she heard one. She knew he would force her if he had to. She drank.

He took the empty cup from her. "Good," he said.

"What happens now?" she asked. "Are you done with me?"

Michael looked down at her. "You'll be taken to more comfortable quarters. When you've recovered enough, we'll take more blood again."

Christie looked at him and laughed ruefully. "Why don't you just suck it out of my neck, like a proper vampire?" She took a deep breath and asked more calmly, "What is this about?"

Michael looked at her intently. "Christie, get this straight. Asking questions could be bad for you...." He paused and smiled slightly. "Believing you have been abducted by vampires is as good an answer as any." He held her gaze for a minute. "Understand?"

She nodded, but said nothing. Yes, Barnabus, she thought.

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

Christie sat on the couch in her new quarters, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head resting on her knees. Six weeks was the usual time to wait between blood donations. Would she be here that long? Would they take more blood before then? Would they kill her? Why her blood, anyway?

She raised her head and looked around. It looked like a small, efficiency apartment, except that there were no windows. She was alone, but she could feel the eyes on her. She knew they were watching her.

Christie had already showered and changed into jeans and a white top that she had found in the closet. Everything fit; they had been prepared for her coming.

The small kitchen had everything. Nothing was unusual, except that all the untensils were plastic. There were no knives and no scissors. She had checked.

Christie got up and made a pot of coffee. She leaned against the counter while she waited for it to finish brewing. She had turned to open cupboards, looking for a coffee mug, when the door opened.

She pressed herself up against the cabinets, eyes searching. There was no where to run.

She relaxed, but only slightly, when she saw it was Michael who had entered.

"Hello," he said.

She stood frozen, watching him warily. He walked toward her, stopping several feet away.

"I just came to check on you." He paused. "Finding everything you need?" he asked.

She let out the breath she was holding. "No, actually," she answered him. "I was hoping to find some garlic cloves to make myself a necklace. And some wooden stakes...."

He smiled at her joke. "To protect yourself from vampires..." he said. She was brave, he'd give her that.

"Want some coffee?" she asked.

Michael was a little surprised by her offer. "Thank you," he said.

She poured two cups and handed him one. She sat on the arm of the couch, he on the chair opposite.

"O.K., we've covered the official story," she began. "You're all vampires, and I'm the flavor of the month." She looked down. "What can you tell me about the unofficial version? Hypothetically speaking?"

Michael smiled at her and leaned back in the chair. "I told you, it's best not to speculate beyond the official version."

Christie put down her coffee. "But I have been speculating about that already."

She smiled and approached him, standing next to his chair. She slowly reached out with one hand to fondle a strand of his thick, wavy hair. It gleamed with deep russett highlights, almost like fiery maple leaves, she thought.

She moved around behind him. "I've been speculating what I'm supposed to do here for entertainment..." She let her hand drop down to caress his shoulder.

"I've been speculating how it would be if I got to play vampire, too..." She pulled back the collar of his coat and shirt, exposing the skin of his throat to view. She leaned closer. "I can't stop thinking how it would be if...." she breathed in his ear, "I could bite YOUR neck.."

She leaned forward, kissing the skin under his jawline and running her hands down the front of his shirt.

When her hand closed over the gun in its holster, Michael moved. In a second, he had pulled her down and pinned her, without getting out of the chair.

She found herself lying across his lap, her arms at her sides, held there in his iron grip. Looking up at him, trembling, Christie was shocked to see his face held no anger. His expression was one of amusement and sympathy.

He stood, carrying her with him, and deposited her gently on the couch. He stood over her.

"Rule number two," he said. "It's safer for you not to play with firearms."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she sat up, backing into the far corner of the sofa. "You're right." Christie bit her lip. "I don't know anything about guns." She looked up at him. "I wasn't going to shoot you..."

"Oh? What was your plan?"

She shook her head and sobbed. "I don't know. I just want to get out of here.." She raised her and looked at him. "Please, Michael..."

She realized that she trusted him. Here she was asking for his help...

He knelt down beside her so their eyes were on the same level. "Christie, it's all right. You can trust me..." He said, as if he could read her mind. "You do exactly what I tell you, you follow my rules, yes?"

Her gray eyes looked into his green ones. "Yes, all right," she whispered.

He stood up and went to the door, pausing on the threshold to look at her.

He had tried to protect Nikita from Section One, tied to save her. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded. It ate away at him.

He would try to protect Christie. Of the various schemes and scenarios being contemplated for her, he would try to push for the ones most likely to keep her alive.

It was the best he could do.

He closed the door softly and left.

She let out the breath she was holding.

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

Operations and Madeleine looked up at Michael as he entered the glass tower office. Operations indicated by a nod of his head the monitor showing Christie's quarters. "She's very pretty, Michael. And I think she likes you." Operations grinned. "But try not to get too attached to the material. She may still have to be sacrificed.."

Michael flinched. His words were like the twist of a knife in the open wound that was Nikita.

"I thought we were making progress," said Michael.

The older man nodded. "Yes, so far. Time is still the enemy we're up against. The more people working on it, the higher our chances of success."

Madeleine cut in. "Without her, we have no chance at all. I say we hold off on harvesting any more from her until we see there is no other option."

Michael remained impassive, but both of the others sensed his relief.

Operations nodded. "Very well. We'll give Med Team I and Christie some slack." He paused. "For now." He turned to Michael. "Meanwhile, Michael, I want you to see that she stays healthy and happy. Provide her with the...entertainment..... she needs." He smiled, leering.

Michael only nodded.

Operations pierced him with a look. "Whatever it takes..."

Michael nodded again. "Of course," he said, and left.

"Do you think that was wise, lying to him?" asked Madeleine thoughtfully.

"We need to get him refocused anywhere but on Nikita." Operations scowled.

Madeleine hoped he was right. Michael's despair was almost more of a problem for them at this juncture than their concern over the success of this mission.

She put a hand comfortingly on his arm for a moment before she left.

Operations lit another cigarette and turned back to the monitor. He hoped fervently that Christie could help in more ways than one.

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

When the door was opened this time, Christie was ready.

Michael swung the door back with his hand and peered past it to meet Christie's eyes. She was pressed up against the wall with a fry skillet in her hand, raised to strike.

"There's no need for that," he said, slowly bringing up his other hand so she could see the shopping bag held from his fingers. "I brought you dinner."

She lowered the pan and let out a sigh. "I thought you might be that Jerry...person."

Michael walked in and put his burden on the counter. "You don't have to worry about him. He won't bother you again." He smiled at her. "Do you like Chinese?" he said, taking little white cartons out of the bag.

She laughed and walked toward him "Yes," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Do vampires like Chinese?"

"In this case, yes," he answered, taking off his coat.

Christie stared at him, looking pointedly at his left side, noting the obvious absence. There was no holster nestled against his ribs this time. She looked back up at his face.

Michael's smile widened. He raised his hands. "Yes, Christie, you have....DISARMED me..."

Laughing, she slid the skillet onto the counter. "No, Michael, I think your puns have disarmed me." She sat on on a stool. "Your really bad puns..."

She toyed with the package of chopsticks, turning the thin wooden shafts in her hand thoughtfully. She pointed one at him. "Maybe I'm not totaly defenceless. Would this work as a stake through your heart?"

Michael's face took on a serious expression. "Please don't threaten me. It may lead to dire consequences..."

She took in a sharp breath, suddenly frightened. What would you do?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Michael pulled something small out of the bag and held it out to her. "I would withold your fortune cookie.."

They both laughed.

As dinner proceeded, Michael stayed in the same playful mood. Michael had also brought her a package of assorted books. He picked up one paperback on health and healing. "This one I thought might interest you," he said.

She took it from him. "Anything in here about dealing with the Undead?"

Michael tensed. The Undead. It was as good a description as any for his life in Section. The vampire metaphor was more apt than you know, Christie, he thought.

She put down the book and reached for her fortune cookie. Michael's hand closed over hers. "Save it for later," he said. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Goodnight, Christie." He picked up his coat and left.

She sat staring at the closed door for a few minutes, thinking. She got up to pour herself more tea, taking the fortune cookie with her to the counter. In the kitchen she cracked it open.

The thin strip of paper read only "page 32."

"LAME, as usual," she said aloud for the camera's benefit, crumpling up the paper. Casually, she picked up the book Michael had emphasized and tucked it under her arm. She carried it and her tea mug into the bathroom.

Hoping this would be her best chance for privacy, she ran water in the tub. When it was filled, she slipped, naked, into the water and pulled the shower curtain closed.

She opened the book to page 32.

Certain words had been underlined ever so lightly in pencil. They didn't form grammatical sentences, but, together, they told her all she needed to know. Virus. Antibody. Serum. Cure. She closed her eyes. Opening them again, she saw two more words she had missed. Death toll. Serious.

"Ohh," she sighed. It had been a long time ago, and she had been so young. Her memories of that time were few and mercifully dim. Her parents had been medical missionaries, already fighting overwhelming disease when the devastating epidemic had broken out. She rememembered seemingly endless days in the hospital. She remembered when they told her she was the only survivor. Their whole village, and several surrounding ones, had been wiped out. Her family with them.

She put the book down on the edge of the tub and buried her face in her hands.

It's happening NOW. It's happening AGAIN. I have to STOP it. Her thoughts were anguished.

She lowered her arms and saw the bruise on the inside of her elbow where the needle had gone in. Her tension eased and she allowed herself a trickle of hope.

Perhaps, she had already stopped it. This time. She relaxed, leaning back into the water. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would find a way to ask Michael...

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

"Excellent!" said Operations.

Madeleine smiled and looked at him. He was perched with one hip on the edge of the desk. They were alone in her office.

They had just received the good news. Serum was being rapidly produced in quantities sufficient to inoculate everyone infected and stop the outbreak. Fortunately it was not a new strain of the virus as they had feared, but the same one that Christie had survived.

Their rapid action in taking her had saved many lives. They had stopped it at the earliest possible stage, before it had spread beyond the handful of people infected. No lives would be lost.

"Nipped in the bud," said Operations, smiling. "Very satisfying."

"Should I tell Michael to release Christie?" said Madeleine, her hand on the phone.

"No, not yet," he said. "Tell him things are going well, but we want to keep her one more day, just in case." He grinned. "Let's see what our little Buffy can do."

Madeleine smiled at the reference to the Vampire Slayer. "Yes, let's hope that she can slay some of Michael's demons as well."

They both laughed.

------------------------------------------------

Michael knocked on the door before opening it with his key. He was eager to tell Christie the good news. Relief flooded him when he was told she would go free. At least the pain of her ruined life would not be added to his already massive torment about Nikita. He allowed himself to feel just a glimmer of happiness. Stepping into her quarters, Michael realised she was not in the room. He heard the shower running.

From the bathroom door, Christie appeared, wrapped in a towel. "Michael?" She came toward him, water glistening on her skin. "Michael, what is it?"

He smiled at her. "I've had a report on your blood from the...er...Dracula Consortium. They are a fickle bunch. The vampires have decided that they have all they need of your particular flavor..." He put his hand on her wet cheek. "You'll be free to go soon."

She sobbed in relief and went into his embrace, her hair dampening his shoulder. Neither one of them seemed to mind. She rested her face next to his ear and whispered, "We need to talk.."

He nodded imperceptively and kissed her lightly on her lips, her cheek, and her hair. "Christie," he breathed softly in her ear. Even more softly he added, "Follow my lead..."

He caressed the side of her neck with his fingers and then bit her lightly on the same spot. He kissed her hungrily on the mouth and then moved back to her neck again.

"I guess you are the one vampire who hasn't had enough of me yet," she murmured into his hair.

"Were you finished with your shower?" he said against her mouth.

"No," she said, following his cue. She started pulling his shirt off. That done, she said invitingly, "Want to join me?"

Michael kicked off his shoes and reached for her again. This time his kisses trailed lower to the fascinating curves just above her towel.

Christie, excited, returned his caresses, running her hands down his back and biting his neck. "Oh, please," she moaned softly. "Please, Michael, let me have you, let me taste you..." She kissed him deeply, then bit his neck harder, her hands lowering to cup his buttocks, pulling him tightly against her. "Please," she begged, "Let me suck your...."

"Blood?" he said.

They laughed, and he lifted her up in his arms and carried her into the shower.

They stood under the spray, Michael in nothing but pants, Christie clutching the towel around her. Both struggled to regain their breath.

"Are you sure it was enough? You don't need any more blood from me? I'll do whatever it takes..."

"Shh, it's fine. Everything's under control now," Michael answered. "It won't be like it was before."

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. She leaned against him. "Michael, thank you."

His arms came up around her. "No, you're the one who should be thanked. Christie, I'm sorry about...."

"Shhh, don't apologize.... for anything..." She held him tighter.

Michael felt himself growing aroused again and tried to pull free from the embrace. "I'll go now," he said shakily.

She pulled him back by his belt against her, so that their hipbones were firmly touching. "Michael, are you sure you don't want to take another sample of me?" She kissed him while pulling off the towel and tossing it out of the shower onto the bathroom floor.

Michael's only answer was to groan and bury his fangs in her neck.

Good Little Vampire Boy, Christie thought happily.

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