Michael strode away from the Medlab room door, unaware that Nikita was watching him. But, like her, his mind was filled with thoughts of them together.

He had wanted to tell her of his feelings, like she had asked him, but Section was not the right place for that. He, too, looked forward to the time they could be together in private, so that they could explore their newly born physical relationship as well as their even stronger emotional connection.

He loved her. He had as much as said so, when he told Nikita how much he had needed her; how he was lost when he thought she had died. For a man like him, a man who needed to have his emotions shut off in order to survive performing the tasks he was forced to do for Section One, it had been a baring of his soul.

His tightly held control over his emotions had been completely undone by Nikita. First by her absence and now by her warm presence. And no vestige of control on his emotions had remained when they had made love.

He realized that she needed him as badly as he needed her. They loved each other, but that was not necessarily a good thing to feel in Section One.

Michael quickly stuffed down the memories that came flooding in on him of Simone. He couldn't take any more losses. Not after this precious gain. Not after getting back his precious Nikita.

He entered Madeleine's office, intent on finding out more details about what Nikita's retraining would involve. He hoped for good news, but he was to be cruelly dissapointed.

Madeleine looked up from the computer screen on her desk, regarding him calmly. "Yes, Michael?"

"Have you assigned a new trainer yet to Nikita?" Michael asked. His face was calm, but his hands were clenched tightly together in front of him, betraying his distress.

Madeleine smiled. She debated with herself about whether to tell him now or wait until the training started. Might as well tell him now, she thought. Let him get adjusted to the idea.

"Yes, Michael. We have."

She leaned back in her chair with every appearance of relaxation, but she was inwardly tensed for the reaction she knew would come.

"It's Jurgen. The same trainer you and Simone had," she told him.

Michael closed his eyes and turned his head, an involuntary gasp of horror escaping his lips. "No...."

Madeleine's smile faded a little, a trace of it remaining on her face as she explained, "You know he was an excellent teacher for you. You were a difficult pupil at first, but he taught you the skills you needed to do the job."

Michael shuddered, remembering. He broke me, thought Michael.

Madeleine went on. "Nikita has some problems, not unlike the ones you had, that need to be corrected before she can return to active status..."

"Madeleine, please..." Michael begged.

"Michael," said Madeleine sternly, her smile fading completely, "If you want her to survive, you know she must be re-conditioned and Jurgen is the one most capable of doing that."

"He'll destroy her," said Michael, his voice breaking in spite of his attempts to control it. "The things that make her useful to Section One will be taken from her..."

"That's not true, Michael, and you know it." Madeleine went on relentlessly. "Her tenderness and sympathy have gotten in the way. And her emotional nature. These things may be important to you, but not to us."

She stood up and walked toward Michael, confronting him. Still in her sweet tones, she said, "If Nikita can't change, she'll be cancelled." She paused before asking, "Do you have any more questions?"

Michael, infuriated, clenched his fists more tightly and moved away from her to the door before he answered her. "No," he said. He had been afraid he would give in to the urge to strike her if he had remained in range to do so any longer.

He went to his office and locked the door. Sitting at desk, he put his hand to his mouth and tried to suppress the tidal wave of fear that threatened to engulf him. He failed. The memories escaped their dam and flooded over him....

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

Michael remembered how, long ago, he had smiled readily, and had even laughed out loud. He remembered being happy. Especially when he was with Simone. He was shy by nature, but her liveliness and sense of adventure, her outgoing ways had drawn him out of his reserve completely.

When he was around Simone, his easy charm showed itself. He felt confident with her; he felt secure. He felt loved. He felt he could do anything.

Once they were in the hands of Section One, however, any sense of control and confidence had been destroyed.

Michael remembered how helpless he had felt when he had first awakened to find himself in Section One.

At first, he thought he was in the prison infirmary. He was strapped to a gurney in a painfully bright white room, his head aching. No, this was not the infirmary. He had been there a few times when they had allowed him to accompany his wife, Simone, for her checkups.

He didn't know what this place was, but as he focused his eyes more, he realized Simone was also strapped to a gurney next to his, unconscious.

"Simone!" He yelled, pulling fiercely at the restraints. "Simone!" The leather chafed his wrists, but he didn't manage to free himself.

The door opened and Operations walked in, smiling at him. Thirteen years ago, he had been less gray, but his eyes had been the same cold blue, and his voice just as chilling.

"Hello, Michael," he said.

"What have you done to my wife? You drugged my wife! The baby..." Michael yelled angrily.

Operations crossed his arms across his chest and continued smiling infuriatingly at him.

"She'll be fine, as will the child." He walked closer to the glaring Michael. "Unlike your parents, whom you killed..."

Michael did not bother to deny the charge he had heard over and over against him. He had never killed anyone.

"Who are you? What do you want with us?"

Operation's eyes glittered. "A couple with your looks, who can kill in cold blood.."

He bent over the sleeping girl to caress a strand of her waist-length black hair.

"Don't touch her!" screamed Michael, strugglingly helplessly.

Operations smiled more broadly and placed his hand gently on the swell of Simone's abdomen. The baby was two and a half months from delivery.

Michael's wrists were bleeding now from his struggles to free himself. "Please!" he begged. "Please don't hurt her...."

Operations caressed Simone's stomach lightly while locking eyes with Michael. "Your entire family will be fine as long as you co-operate. You'll undergo training for two years. If you meet our standards, you'll work for us."

"If you don't..." The older man leaned and kissed the sleeping girl's cheek lightly.

"YOU BASTARD!!" Michael screamed.

Operations finished. "If you don't do exactly as we say, Sleeping Beauty will sleep forever. Along with her baby..." He looked at Michael. "And her Prince."

He paused, still looking intently at Michael. "Do you understand me?" he demanded.

Michael was very still, his eyes wide with shock. "Yes," he answered hoarsely. "I'll do whatever you want..."

Operations left Simone and approached Michael's bed. He leaned over and patted the younger man on the cheek. "Good Boy," he said, leering.

He walked to the door, turning to look at Michael again. "You start tomorrow, 5 a.m. I'm sure we will have your complete co-operation."

He smiled one last time and left.

Michael let his head drop back on the bed as the despair washed over him.

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

Training, though rigorous, did not prove that difficult for Michael. He was used to pushing himself to please his demanding father. He was used to discipline. And now he had the strongest of motivations---he wanted very badly to live, and for his wife and baby to live.

He and Simone were separated during the day, her training being of a less physical nature due to her pregnancy. At night they were allowed to share quarters together.

They spent the nights clinging to each other, the baby sheltered between them. They drew strength and comfort from each other, their embrace a refuge from the terrors of Section One.

They never talked of death, or their fear; they never discussed their chances of survival. Instead, they lived in the fantasy world of the future. They talked of the baby and what he would be like when he grew up.

They planned their imaginary house and its nursery, arguing over what color to paint the walls. But their favorite topic to discuss was picking a name for the baby.

Each night together was precious. Michael held her tightly on this particular night. He must have told Simone he loved her fifty times. He was never sure when the last night would come.

He vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to be the perfect recruit, the indispensable operative.

Just don't take her from me, he thought, squeezing Simone tightly to his chest before he finally slept.

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

The next afternoon, Michael's martial arts training was interrupted when he was told to report to Madeleine. Two male operatives in black escorted him down the hall. Michael recognized that they were heading toward the interrogation rooms, and not Madeleine's office.

The men grabbed him by the arms when his pace slowed in the hallway. They shoved him roughly into the room.

Madeleine looked at him appraisingly as the operatives, still gripping him by the arms, brought Michael up to where she stood.

His breathing was rapid and his green eyes were pleading. His face was flushed and his hair curled in disarray around his face from the exercise he had been doing. He looked very handsome. And very frightened.

"Hello, Micahel." She smiled at him. To the operatives, Madeleine said, "Secure him there," pointing to the set of restraints on the wall.

Michael found himself cuffed to the wall with his hands near his head on either side. His legs were also secured so he couldn't kick. The two men stood back from him, awaiting Madeleine's orders.

"Have I done something wrong? Are you punishing me?" Michael asked, confused. He had obeyed every order promptly, knowing what was at stake.

"No," said Madeleine, smiling as she approached him. She put her hand against his cheek. "You've performed very well so far. We are very pleased with your progress."

She dropped her hand and continued. "This is part of your training. Jurgen will be teaching you what you need to know."

Now Michael noticed the man for the first time. He had been standing next to the doorway, silently watching him.

He was tall and blonde and wore wire-rimmed glasses. His face was coldly impassive, his blue eyes somehow empty. Michael stiffened as he approached.

Jurgen backhanded him across the face, twice. Hard.

Michael grunted and struggled to regain his breath. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He quickly looked back at Jurgen, his green eyes blazing angrily. He swore at him.

Jurgen shook his head, a slight smile curving his lips. "No, no, no. That's not the response we want," he said, almost teasingly.

Swiftly, he gripped Michael by the throat, holding him immobile against the wall.

Jurgen continued in his soft voice, lilting with amusement, "When you're being interrogated by the enemy, you show NOTHING. No anger. No fear. No concern. No pain. Do you understand? NOTHING."

"We'll try this again," Jurgen said, as he released Michael and stepped back from him.

Michael stiffened involuntarily, waiting for the next blow.

Jurgen smiled. "First, we'll give you an incentive to do well with this lesson."

He looked at Madeleine. She smiled back.

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

Madeleine clicked a button on a remote control. A video began playing on a screen on the wall opposite Michael.

The tape was of him and Simone together in their quarters. The screen Michael was holding Simone against him in bed, kissing her gently.

"I love you," he was saying, one hand caressing the swell of her stomach tenderly, the other stroking the hair at the back of her neck.

Simone kissed him back and let her hands travel down his bare back to his lean hips. "Make love to me, Michael..." She moaned against his lips.

He gave a happy laugh, and bent his head to kiss her neck. "Whatever you want, my love," he said into her ear. He groaned as Simone's hand reached for him.

The tape ended.

Michael felt a chill go through him. They watched them, even there. He was glad he had never mentioned the escape plans he had thought of outloud to Simone.

"What does Simone have to do with my training?" Michael asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"It's simple, really," Jurgen began, still seeming to be vastly entertained by it all. "We'll videotape your lesson today. We'll record every reaction. For every moan, every word, every tear...." He paused to smile even wider, and continued.

"For every reaction you make, Simone will be punished." Jurgen grinned.

Michael bit his lip to keep from screaming. "What kind of punishment?" he asked, almost choking.

Madeleine answered him. "Nothing to harm the baby. No drugs. We would break her fingers, perhaps...."

Michael closed his eyes, willing himself not to curse them, not to cry. He stood very still, nothing betraying his emotions except the slight trembling of his limbs which he couldn't control.

"Very good, Michael," Madeleine praised him. She caressed a lock of his hair and then patted him on the shoulder. "You're a quick learner. I'm sure you'll do well with this lesson."

She nodded at Jurgen and turned to leave. The lesson began in earnest.

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

The beating went on through the afternoon. Jurgen and the two operatives took turns. Somehow, Michael found the strength not to react, to keep everything inside.

It was incredibly difficult at first, then became easier as his stoic mask settled into place. He distanced himself, his face becoming blank and impassive. It was almost as if it was happening to someone else. Michael drifted a long way away from the pain, dissasociated, uncaring.

He managed somehow to shut his emotions down, to keep in complete control his raging fear, anger, and pain. He had to. His incentive was too great. He couldn't let himself betray Simone by showing any weakness.....

That night, they released him and returned him to his quarters. Simone cried and attended to him, bandaging the worst of his cuts and bruises.

Michael didn't speak, even when Simone questioned him.

She put him to bed. This was the first night he slept with his back to her, not embracing her. He had shut down, and he had to stay shut down.

Michael thought that if he ever opened up again, he couldn't be sure if he could ever get control of himself again. And if he let go of his control, his whole world would be lost.

The ultimate cold op was born that day. That night, Michael had the first of his nightmares....

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

Michael lifted his head and leaned back in the chair in his office. Nikita. He must protect her from Jurgen. Jurgen had created Michael's mask, had clamped it down on him. Nikita had gotten under it, lifting it from him.

He had been freed from it completely when they had made love. He wanted to feel that freedom again. To be Michael again. To be a loving human being, and not a machine.

Nikita had returned him to life. He had been lost, as he had told her, and she had brought him back. He needed her.

She was the lifeline to his soul. She was the source from which love flowed. She was the light, after he had lived in the darkness for so long.

Together, they would find a way to survive. This time, he would use all his strength not to shut himself down, but to open up.

He made a new vow to himself. He would not allow this chance for happiness to escape them. Somehow, they would have a life together, in spite of Section One.

"I promise, Nikita," he whispered to himself. "I promise you. Be patient..."

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