Michael sat in the chair next to the bed in Medlab. He had wanted to check on the very young recruit who had been injured on last night's mission.

It had been a total success, according to Operations. Michael shook his head and looked over at the sleeping girl. A total success. Sherry had been raped and savagely beaten, but she had gotten the job done.

She moaned, stirred, and opened her eyes. Michael went to stand next to her. "Hello," he said.

"Michael." She smiled at him in spite of her bruised face. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"You know for what." Last night, as soon as they had found her and retrieved the micro-chip she had been sent in to get, Michael had pressed the tranquilizer gun to her neck, bringing merciful unconsciousness.

She still smiled at him. Michael realized it was the first smile he had gotten from anyone in Section since Nikita had....died?....gone free? He didn't know. Walter and Birkoff, as well as others, looked at him in disgust. Operations and Madeleine scrutinized him for signs of weakness.

Sherry's look was one of friendship.

"I owe you one, Michael. If you ever need a favor, let me know, O.K.?"

"O.K." He touched her hand briefly. "Rest now," he said.

He tried to pull his hand away, but she gripped it. "Michael, you have a serious problem..."

"What?"

"You talk too much. WAY too many words, man. Can't you just shut up sometime...."

He laughed. It had been a long time since he had laughed.

"Sherry," he said, "You did a great job . I'll come and check on you later."

She grinned and said, "WOW! Two whole sentences! I hit the mother-lode..."

"No, not the mother-lode. Just a vein.." he said as he was leaving.

"Does that mean you want me to keep digging?"

Michael smiled. "Get some rest," he said, and left.

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

Before he left Section for the day, Michael stopped by again. Sherry was sleeping, fitfully. He sat in the chair next to her. She began to twist and moan, reliving the rape in her nightmares. "Nooo, don't..." she said, her face contorting.

Michael decided it was time to wake her. He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. "Sherry..."

She opened her eyes wide, then leaned her face against his hand, trapping it between her cheek and her shoulder. She closed her eyes again, slowly regaining her breath, resting that way for a minute.

She opened her eyes again, and raised one hand to cover his, keeping it on her shoulder. "Thanks for waking me. That was a bad one."

Michael said nothing, just looked at her.

After a moment she released his hand and sat up. "Yeah, the worst nightmare I ever had." She looked up at him , actually smiling. "Scooby Doo was about to be eaten by Godzilla..."

Michael's eyed widened in surprise, shocked that she was able to joke about it. She's so young, he thought. Cartoons were to him something from several distant lifetimes ago. He felt ancient.

Sherry lay back on the pillows, her face now serious. She looked away from him to hide her tears.

"Sherry, it will be fine.." He tried to comfort her awkwardly.

She turned back to him. "You're right. No matter how much trouble Scooby Doo was in, he always got rescued by his friends.." She smiled at him, her eyes bright. "Thanks, Michael."

He made to leave, but Sherry called him back. "Michael, this sounds stupid, but I think if you stayed with me I could sleep. Somehow, I think Godzilla wouldn't bother me with you here." She looked shyly at him. "Please, just for a little while?"

He paused. It seemed strange to be trusted and needed, for someone to want his company, for someone to look at him without loathing or fear.

"All right." Michael settled in the chair. "Go to sleep. It's O.K...."

She sighed, and turned on her side, facing away from him. He stayed, sitting watching her long after the steady, even rhythm of her breaths told him she was asleep.

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

The next morning Michael checked on Sherry again. Maybe because no one else was happy to see him like she was.

The bruises were lightening, and she seemed stronger. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes brightening when she saw him. "Hi, Michael."

"Hello."

"Come to talk my ear off again?"

He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Four words! Good start!" She smiled back. "I'm much better, after some good sleep." She paused, then said, "Michael, you are in the completely wrong line of work, you know."

He tilted his head, curious. "What?"

"Yeah, you're wasted here. There's something much more important you should be doing."

He crossed his arms over his chest, realizing there had to be a joke coming. "And what should I be doing?"

"Six words! WOW!" She grinned. "You should be reporting the eleven o'clock news on t.v."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"See," she explained, "instead of hearing stories about murder and turmoil and brutality and..." She gulped. "And other disturbing things to ruin their rest, it should just be you saying,'everything's fine. Go to sleep.' You know, with authority. Everyone would feel safe, like I feel safe with you..."

Her voice broke on the word 'safe', her cheerful facade crumbling. She looked away from him, tears spilling from her eyes. "I'm sorry..." she sobbed.

"It's O.K." Michael went over to her. She lowered her head and he took her in a gentle embrace. "It's O.K. to use humor to deal with it," he said. "But it's O.K. to cry, too."

Nikita had taught him that. Sherry had a right, as did he, to feel any way she wanted.

Sherry recovered her composure a little and leaned back in the bed. Michael looked at her. It was time to try a little humor of his own.

Seriously, and with great authority, he said, "Everything's fine. Go to sleep."

It worked. He made her laugh. The pillow hit him in the back as he was turning to leave.

He tossed it back to her, giving her one last smile before he left.

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

"No, Birkoff! Not a chance!" Sherry said. She had been assigned to work with the young computer genius during her convalescence until she was recovered enough to go on missions again.

Michael walked by as they were tussling over a package Sherry had. Birkoff was trying to take it from her in a teasing way. They looked about the same age, Michael thought. They looked like squabbling siblings.

"I TOLD you," she said, her voice rising, "They're not for you..."

"Problem?" asked Michael.

Birkoff stopped his teasing and tried to look business like. "No, no problem." He sat back down in front of his computer.

"What's going on?" he asked, turning to Sherry.

"It's nothing."

Michael nodded, and walked down the hall to his office. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Sherry coming toward him.

"Yes?" he asked, stopping.

She looked down at her feet and held the disputed bag behind her. "Sir, can I talk to you a minute?"

He nodded."In my office."

They walked down the hall together. She seemed to be recovering well, physicaly and emotionally. He hoped her need to speak to him wasn't a sign that she was worse. They arrived at his office.

When the door was shut, she placed the bag on his desk. "For you," she said.

He gingerly opened the paper sack and took out the contents. A bag of double-stuffed Oreos and a quart of milk.

"Aren't these Birkoff's?" he asked, surprised.

"No, these aren't 'Birkoff Cookies.' These are 'Michael Cookies'." She smiled and opened the cellophane bag, taking one out.

"'Michael Cookies' because..." she twisted it open, pulling the two halves apart, "It's hard and black on the outside, see..." She said, looking pointedly at his all black clothes and grinning. "And it's all sweetness and light on the inside...."

She held both halves out to him. He took them from her, numbly.

Her words were shocking and unexpected. He should have dismissed them as childish and silly, but they had affected him deeply. He was profoundly touched.

"See, everyone thinks you're so tough, but I know better." She went to the door, and paused before she opened it.

She looked back at him. "Remember, I still owe you one."

Michael looked at her and smiled. "No, you don't. I think this makes us even." He held up the cookies.

She laughed and left.

Michael got out the coffee mug he kept in the desk drawer and poured himself a glass of milk. He rummaged around his desk until he found the newspaper. He opened it to the entertainment section.

Let's see when the cartoons are on, he thought, reaching for the cookies.

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