"We have incoming," said Birkoff.

Operations, Michael, and several teams were standing tensely by. They had been waiting for this.

Operations walked the short distance to the computer and sat down in the chair Birkoff had vacated for him.

"Hoban," he said when the screen showed a tall blonde man in his fifties. Gregor Hoban was roughly comparable to Operations in his own organization, but Hoban's group had less noble goals than Section One's. Hoban was a viscious terrorist with ties to Ilya Benko, but Hoban was even more cold-blooded and ruthless.

"Section One." Hoban smiled. "We've cracked your Directory." He grinned even wider.

"Oh?" said Operations cooly. "None of our people have been touched. All we have is your word for it." He spoke as if Hoban was something smelly he was planning to wipe off his shoe.

"Ah, but there is no need to be as crude as Benko was, wasting resources on a killing spree. I can be more subtle."

Hoban nodded at one of his men behind him. He turned back to the screen. "All I need is one target in my possession and all of Section One goes down..."

"Really?" said Operations. He puffed on his cigarette, seemingly unconcerned.

"You will not be so calm when you see who it is I have..."

Two of Hoban's men came into view, dragging a small figure between them. It was a woman in her twenties with large, pale blue eyes and light brown hair shot with blonde. Her hands were tied behing her back. She was very petite, the men dwarfing her.

Hoban laughed evily. "We have your daughter..."

A wave of shocked murmurs went through Section. "QUIET!" Operations barked.

He pursed his lips into a thin line and closed his eyes for a moment. Nikita watched him; it was the first time she had felt sorry for him.

"How much do you want?" Operations asked.

"Very good!" Hoban laughed. "Forty million to start, and there will be other demands later."

Hoban gestured to the men to bring the hostage closer to the camera. The girl peered into the screen, straining to see Operations.

"Daddy?"

Hoban smiled, then backhanded her savagely across the face. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She slumped in the arms of the men holding her up.

Hoban grabbed her by her collar and pulled her toward him. He ran his hand down the front of her shirt, lingering on her left breast. She gasped and tried to pull away from him.

"Don't worry, "Daddy"." Hoban taunted. "My men and I will entertain her until we contact you again."

He laughed and cut the transmission.

There was a long pause before Operations said, "Birkoff, trace?"

Birkoff shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. There's no way to find her until they contact us again..."

"Michael."

"Yes." Michael stepped closer to Operations.

"Is your team ready?"

"Yes," came the succinct reply.

"You'll go as soon as we have a location. Did you activate the tracker?"

Michael nodded. "Yes. As soon as we had visual on her."

"Good. Keep me informed." Operations tossed his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his shoe. "I'll be in my office."

Birkoff watched Operations walking away for a moment before turning back to his computer. He clicked and keystroked for a few seconds.

"Confirmed," he announced. "Tracker activated."

They waited.

After a few minutes, a green light blinked on Birkoff's screen.

"Got her!" said Birkoff triumphantly.

Michael looked at Nikita. "Let's go," he said.

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

Hoban's fortress of a house was well-protected and guarded, but he was not expecting the swift and expert onslaught of Section One. They took him completely by surprise.

Hoban was caught by a Section bullet while trying to sneak out of the house through a window. His men did not fare any better than their commander; they were easily taken out.

Stepping over bodies, Michael led his team inside the house.

"Look for the Directory. Check for and destroy all computers." Michael ordered. "Nikita, come with me."

The two of them headed down the stairway to retrieve the hostage. The tracker showed her to be in a storeroom in the basement.

Michael kicked in the door and he and Nikita burst into the room. The hostage was huddled on the floor in a corner.

Her ripped clothes and bruised face told them what she had been through. She was shaking, and her eyes were distant and unseeing.

"It's O.K. You're safe now..." Michael said softly.

Nikita had an eerie sense of deja vu. It was uncannily like the day they had found Simone...

"Michael, she's in shock," Nikita told him.

Michael took off the black jacket he was wearing and wrapped it around the girl's shoulders.

Nikita knelt down to look in the girl's face. "Sandy," she said gently. "We're going to get you out of here. You're going to see your father.."

She looked up then, comprehending. "Daddy?" she said faintly.

"Yes." Michael lifted her gently up in his arms and carried her to the van. She leaned her face into his shoulder, quietly sobbing.

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

Operations was waiting in the hallway when the van returned to Section One. He watched as Michael stepped out, carrying Sandy. He placed her carefully on the waiting stretcher.

Operations looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her head was turned to one side. Unconscious, she looked even younger and more vunerable than she had earlier in the images from Hoban's house.

Operations indicated to the men carrying the stretcher to wait. Nikita expected him to go to Sandy and touch her hand or kiss her, but he did neither.

Instead, he looked at Michael. "Do we have the Directory?" he asked.

"No," said Michael. "It wasn't on any of the bodies. There was nothing on the computers..."

"You searched everywhere?"

"Yes."

Operations glared at him. "All right," he said. "Interrogate her. I want it done now."

Michael nodded and followed the men and the stretcher down the hallway.

Nikita stared at Operations in shock. Then her anger took over. She stood, outraged in front of him.

"They raped her. They beat her up. She's your daughter, for God's sake!" Nikita raged. "Don't you care? Is all you care about the Directory?"

Operations sighed. "Nikita, go help Michael get the information from her. NOW." He ordered.

Nikita searched his face intently for evidence of any emotion on his face. Exasperation was the only thing she found there.

She bit her lip to keep from calling him a name outloud. You inhuman son of a bitch, she thought.

She turned and followed Michael and the gurney down the hallway to Interrogation.

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

Sandy blinked against the glare in the white room. She had been given a stimulant to bring her around. As she slowly came awake, she realised she was restrained in the chair. She fought down her panic at being unable to move,helpless....

As she struggled against the bonds, she felt her M.I.A. bracelet against her wrist. "Daddy, help me," she said silently in her head.

For most of her life she had lived with his absence as well as the tantalizing possibility of his being alive. She remembered him. She remembered his tenderness and how safe and secure she had felt in his loving presence. More than anything, she wanted to be in that presence now.

"Please, I want to see my father..." she begged.

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

Madeleine paced slowly in front of her, hands behind her back. Michael and Nikita stood flanking the door.

Madeleine ignored her comment. "We're sorry about what you've been through. But we need to find the Directory. Where is it?"

Sandy was silent, her slight trembling the only thing betraying her fear.

Madeleine admired her composure. It was remarkable considering her recent experiences. Madeleine needed to shake that composure, and quickly....

"Hoban and his men did some horrible things to you," Madeleine commented sympathetically. She leaned her face close to Sandy's.

"I assure you, we can do worse to you. Much worse," she continued sweetly.

Nikita looked at Michael. She was appalled at how Operations was letting his daughter be treated.

"Why doesn't Operations come and talk with her, be with her?" Nikita whispered.

"We have to retrieve the Directory," Michael whipered back. He turned to look at her. "First things first, Nikita."

Nikita gave him an angry look and turned back to Sandy.

"Where's my father?" the girl sobbed. "I just want to see my father..."

Madeleine slapped her across her already bruised face. Sandy moaned.

"Answer the question. Where is the Directory?"

Sandy met her eyes. "I...I can give it to you.."

"You have it?"

"Yes..."

Madeleine indicated to Michael that he should release her bonds. He stepped forward and unstrapped her from the chair.

Sandy pulled up her knees to her chest and retreated further back in the chair.

The girl looked up at Madeleine and Michael. "I told you, I want to see my father. Then you can have it."

There was a moment of silence while Madeleine regarded her intently. "All right," Madeleine relented. "We'll arrange it. You'll see him soon."

"Nikita, stay with her until we call you.." Madeleine ordered.

Michael and Nikita helped Sandy up from the chair. With great dignity she walked between them out of the room.

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

Nikita hadn't expected to be present at the reunion between father and daughter, but she was.

Sandy had been given a chance to shower and to have the worst of her cuts and bruises tended to in MedLab. Now, in her borrowed clothes, she let Nikita lead her to the briefing table, where Operations waited.

Also around the table were Michael, Birkoff, and Madeleine. It was plain this encounter was about retrieving the Directory and not about fatherly love.

"First things first," Nikita muttered under her breath.

Father and daughter stared at each other. Sandy's eyes roamed over every feature, studying him.

"Daddy?"

"You have the Directory?" he said bluntly.

She closed her eyes and after a long pause said, "Yes."

"How did you get it?"

"When he... when Hoban..." Sandy paused, then started again. "He had the only copy on him. He bragged about it. He showed me where he kept it, in his pocket..."

She took a deep breath and continued. "When he was going to... When he wanted me to.... I offered to co-operate and he freed my hands. I took it from him then.."

Sandy hung her head, then looked up at Operations.

"You look like him," she said, "But you're not my father..." It was a statement.

"No, I'm not."

Nikita was in shock. She looked around the table. Michael and the others seemed to be in on the mystery.

"My father's dead, isn't he?" Sandy said quietly.

Operations regarded her not unkindly. "According to our intel, he died in a VC POW camp. I'm sorry."

Operations paused and then went on to explain further. "Your father resembled me enough, both in background and appearance, that it was useful for security purposes for me to assume his identity in the Directory. Some of the information in it is deliberately false, as a safeguard..."

"So, you used me as a target, a decoy...."

Operations said nothing.

"You used my father, too. His life, his memory.. so YOUR family could be safe and you could endanger his...." Sandy said in disgust.

Nikita was disgusted, too. If Operations ever said anything again about the important work Section One did, protecting the innocent, she thought she would be sick.

"Give me the Directory," said Operations. "NOW."

Sandy sighed and looked up at him. "You're right. We had a deal..."

She launched herself at him, leaping on him. Operations stood still, doing nothing to defend himself.

Michael stood up. He thought her intention was to scratch Operations' face, but instead, she held his face in her hands and kissed him roughly, pushing her tongue into his mouth.

It was over quickly. Sandy stepped back from him, panting, angry.

Operations took out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth, spitting something out onto the white cloth.

It was a small gold micro-chip. The Directory.

He looked up at Sandy.

"Choke on it," she said.

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

The next day, Sandy jumped when the door to her room opened. She had spent the time since meeting Operations here. It was not unlike the interrogation room, white and sterile. The major difference was this time there was a bed instead of a chair.

Michael entered. "Hello," he said smiling. "How are you doing? Are you all right?"

Sandy took a few steps back away from him. "Did you get everything you needed?" She had no desire to be questioned by Madeleine again.

"Yes, it was all there on the chip." Michael gazed at her with a soft, sympathetic expression in his eyes.

Sandy, not trusting him, backed up further until she was against the wall. "So, you're through using me now. Are you going to shoot me?"

Michael shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently. He took another step toward her, the expression in his eyes becoming warmer.

"You were almost finished with your P.A. training. You were going to set up practice as a family doctor, a physician's assistant..."

"Yes?" She was puzzled by what seemed to her to be irrelevant details of her former life that was now over.

His next sentence explained why he had brought up the topic of her career. "They want to use you on our MedTeam..."

She let out her breath in a sigh of relief, realizing they were not going to kill her after all.

"There's something else," Michael began, his voice kind.

Sandy stiffened with apprehension. "What is it?"

"Because you handled yourself so well, retrieved the chip, survived their torture..." Michael touched her shoulder gently, his green eyes looking into hers.

"They want to train you as an operative as well.." He explained softly.

She looked up at him in shock.

It's something new they're trying. You'll train in both areas, in MedLab and with me..."

"With you?" she asked.

"Yes. I'll be close. I'll look after you.."

Sandy stepped back from him, absorbing this news. She laughed ruefully. "I guess he's not through using me..."

Michael knew she was referring to Operations. "When did you realize he wasn't your father?" he asked.

Sandy closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. "My father always treated me like I was ... special ...priceless.." She searched for the right word. "He cherished me, protected me..."

She looked up at Michael. "He would never have done anything to put me at risk. I guess I knew, really, when I was put in that interrogation room. That would never have happened if my father were running this place."

Michael nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.

He stood close to her again and, lowering his voice to a whisper, said,"I wish your father was running this place.."

He brushed his hand gently across her cheek, careful not to press on her tender bruises. "I'm sorry you were brought into this. I wish things could be different..."

Sandy thought his voice held regret, as well as a promise that if there was a chance, he would like to be something more to her than just her trainer.

He walked to the door. "You'll start training tomorrow. Five a.m." He left, shutting the heavy door behind him.

Sandy settled her sore and battered body carefully back on the bed. As much as she hurt physically, her emotional pain was greater.

Her dream of seeing her father alive again was irrevocably gone, ripped from her. She had been lied to and used as a pawn in their games.

She felt more violated by the deceptions of Section One than by anything Hoban had done to her.

She lay down on the bed, her face in the pillow. She let the tears come. "Daddy..." she cried softly to herself.

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

Less than two weeks later, Sandy was called in to Madeleine's office. Operations was there as well.

"We wanted to review your progress," smiled Madeleine. "How is everything going?"

Sandy had been training in MedLab in the mornings and with Michael in the afternoons. So far, morning classes were easier.

"Fine," answered Sandy curtly. She had no desire for a cozy chat with the intimidating Madeleine.

"Coffee?" offered Madeleine, pouring herself a cup.

"No, thank you." Sandy was anxious for this encounter to be over.

She glanced over at Operations. He was rubbing his forehead, looking glassy-eyed and pale.

His appearance alarmed her. " Are you all right?" she asked.

"It's just a headache," he said in a strained voice.

"Sit here," she ordered, her training taking over. She had dealt with lots of patients who insisted they were fine when they were ready to pass out.

Operations dropped in the chair. Sandy stood in front of him and felt his forehead. His skin was clammy and cool. She took his pulse and found it to be way too rapid.

Alarmed, she took his hands in hers and looked at his fingernails. They were cyan-blue.

"You're going to MedLab NOW," she ordered.

Operations sat listlessly silent, not responding to her.

Sandy looked up at Madeleine, who was just about to take a sip of coffee.

"No!" Sandy yelled. "Madeleine, don't!"

She ran the few steps to the other woman and wrested the cup out of her hand. "He's been poisoned...."

Sandy continued, speaking rapidly. "I don't know how it was introduced. The food and water supply in the whole Section may be contaminated, compromised..."

Sandy reached for the phone on Madeleine's desk. "I'm calling MedLab.."

Madeleine stopped her by placing a hand on Sandy's arm. "It's already been done."

Two men with a gurney entered the office just then and helped Operations to lie down.

"Madeleine, what is going on?" Sandy demanded.

"They'll administer the antidote to him in MedLab. You can supervise his recovery. He'll be fine..." Madeleine smiled.

Realization dawned through the confusion. Operations had taken the poison himself.

"You were testing me?" Sandy asked, appalled.

"Yes. You passed."

Sandy gasped. "You think I can't tell a sick person when I see one?"

Madeleine simply looked at her, not speaking.

Sandy was in shock. "You wanted to see if I'd let him die, is that it?"

"We had to be sure," answered Madeleine calmly.

Sandy was overtaken with anger at the cavalier attitude of Section One toward human life, even their own. They had used her once again.

"You sick Bitch!" She spat the words out at Madeleine and ran out of the room, following the gurney to MedLab.

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

The next afternoon Sandy was enduring another martial arts class. It was going well, so far, considering the fact that she had no desire to be there. Fighting was not her thing. She didn't even like sports.

Sandy had very few, if any, aggressive tendencies. It had never been a liability until now.

She had no desire to throw the other two students, both male, to the mat. She glanced at Michael, who was standing nearby, supervising.

He wore a sleeveless black T-shirt which showed off the muscles of his chest and arms. He caught her admiring glance and smiled at her. She smiled back.

Sandy found his presence comforting, while it had the the effect of unnerving the other recruits. She had come to trust Michael more than anyone in Section.

He had watched over her training; he was unfailingly kind to her. He had rescued her from Hoban and his men.

Sandy shuddered. She didn't want to think about that...

She brought her attention back to the instructor. "Now let's work on breaking holds," he was saying. "If you are attacked like this..."

He motioned to Sandy to step forward so she could demonstrate.

Sandy expected to be thrown on the mat again; that was no surprise. But she hadn't expected to be pinned there, held down, helpless....

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. The instructor's face above her turned into Hoban's. She thought she would black out.

The instructor released her. It had only been a moment. She hadn't slapped the mat as a signal like she had been taught. She had signaled her distress with a high, keening wail.

Sandy didn't realize she had made any sound, lost as she was in the silent horror movie re-running through her mind.

She leapt up and scrambled blindly to the far wall, trying to escape. She still couldn't get her breath.

Then Michael was there, like he had been before...

"It's O.K. You"re safe," he said, holding her gently. "I won't let them hurt you. Shhhh..." he soothed.

Her vision cleared of the nightmares and she stopped struggling with him. "Michael..." she sobbed, clutching him and crying into his shoulder.

Michael continued to hold her, giving her time to recover. He looked over the top of her head and spoke to the the recruits and the others who had gathered around to gawk.

"Class is over. You're dismissed."

Sandy's sobs subsided and she pulled away from him, intensely humiliated. "I'm sorry," she said.

"C'mon, it's O.K." Michael kept his arm around her, shielding her from the stares, as he walked her back to her quarters.

Back in her room, Sandy felt a little calmer, but she fought the despair that threatened to engulf her.

"How... How do you do it, Michael?" she asked.

"Do what?" he said, sitting on the edge of her chair, his arm still around her.

"How do you survive this living hell?"

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

"How do you survive this living hell?"

Michael's eyes clouded with pain. "It was wrong what they did to you. They shouldn't have pushed you into training so soon when you weren't ready."

Michael's voice shook with anger. "That bastard...."

"You mean Operations?"

"Yes." Michael caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry for what he's put you through..."

She leaned her head on his shoulder again. "It's not like we have any choice about things, any control..."

He kissed the top of her head. "Maybe we do," he whispered into her hair.

"What do you mean? If you don't follow orders, they kill you..."

"They've hurt you, but you have the power now to get even..." Michael said softly.

Very slowly, he leaned his face close to hers and gently kissed her.

The world tilted once again for her. She returned his kiss hesitantly at first, then relaxed as it deepened. Michael tightened his embrace. His hands stroking her back sent a jolt of desire through her.

The kiss was a wondrous, healing thing. If only he would keep on kissing her, touching her, he could kiss away the memory of those other touches....

She wanted to touch him. Almost involuntarily, she lowered one hand to his knee, her fingers resting lightly on the hard muscles of his thigh, the other caressed a curl of his long, thick hair.

Michael groaned and shifted their positions, lifting her up so that he was sitting in the chair and she was on his lap.

He broke the kiss and lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat, kissing all along her sensitive skin to the cleft between her breasts. He took her hand in his and moved it further up his thigh so that it rested several inches higher than it had before.

"I want you," he said. "I want us to be together.."

Sandy pulled him more tightly against her and rested her cheek against his. She wanted him, too. In spite of her joy at his touch and his words, her voice was infinitely sad in his ear.

"But how? How could that be?"

Michael took her face in his hands and kissed her again before answering.

"If Operatons were out of the way, I'd be put in command. I could change the rules. We could be together..."

"Michael, no!" she said, alarmed. "You can't risk doing anything to him. Please! It's too dangerous for you..."

"I know," he said, stroking her hair. "I can't touch him. But you can.."

She held perfectly still. "Me?"

Michael licked the skin just behind her ear and then whispered into it, "You have access to him. You can change the dosage of the antidote. You can get rid of him..."

Sandy's universe shifted once again. She froze in shock. It hadn't occured to her that she could indeed even the score. And have Michael, too. She only had to uncouple herself from her inner moral compass, her soul...

She leapt up from his lap. "I... I can't. I'm not a killer, Michael..."

"I know," he said, taking her hand in his and looking deeply into her eyes. "But he IS. You're the only one who can stop him.."

Michael stood up and took her in his arms again. "Please...," he begged, before kissing her once again, with great sweetness.

He pulled back from her, letting the suggestion sink in. "Please.." he pleaded again.

Sandy studied his face. His eyes held deep pain and torment. He was anguished, not with desire, but with veangence. What had they done to him?

Michael sighed and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead. "I'll check on you later, O.K.?"

"O.K.," she said numbly.

He released her and walked to the door, giving her one last pleading look before he turned and left.

Sandy went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror after splashing her face. What was she becoming?

Michael's suggestion should have disgusted her, but she found it tempting instead. Very tempting.

"Daddy, help me..." she prayed silently to herself.

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

Less than an hour later, Sandy sought out Nikita. She needed some answers, fast.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked the tall blonde.

"Sure." Nikita paused and looked at her. "We'll do some sparring. Collect our equipment from Walter and I'll meet you in ten minutes."

"O.K., thanks." They both knew the cavernous exercise area would provide them some privacy.

Sandy approached Walter's station cautiously. She knew he had a reputation for hitting on recruits and she she didn't think she could handle that today.

She shouldn't have worried.

Walter smiled at her kindly. "Hi, Kid."

"Hi. Can I get some boxing equipment from you? Nikita and I are going to practice..."

"Sure, Kid." He led her back into the equipment room and handed her the package of head-gear and gloves for two.

"Don't hurt Nikita too bad," he joked.

Sandy smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about that.."

Walter smiled back at her. "Have a seat," he said, indicating a spot on the bench.

She sat down and put the gear beside her, then twisted her hands in her lap. "Walter, who can I trust here?"

Walter gave a short laugh. "If you're smart, NOBODY."

She sighed. "But I have to..."

"No, Kid." He bent toward her, lowering his voice. "It's all about games here. Just when you get one game figured out, you realize they're playing another one with you..."

"What kind of games are they playing with Michael?"

"Hell, Kid! Watch yourself. Michael is more "Section" than Section itself..."

He looked past her. "You'd better go now," he said.

Nikita had arrived. She strolled up to Walter and Sandy, smiling.

"Be careful," Walter cautioned.

"I'll take care of her, Walter," said Nikita, thinking he was referring to their boxing.

Later, after they had gone through a few lackluster rounds of sparring, the two women stopped and sat down side by side on the mat.

"Nikita, what has Section done to Michael? What has Operations done to him?"

Nikita sighed. "What did he tell you?'

"Nothing. That's why I'm asking you. What do you know for sure about him?"

Nikita looked down at her shoes. She wondered that herself. She used to be sure that he cared for her, but now she didn't know. It hit her how little she really did know about him.

"Please, Nikita," Sandy pressed. "He trained you. You must know something about him.."

Nikita looked up at her. "All right. He had a wife, Simone. She was an operative, too."

"Oh!" Sandy said. "What happened to her?"

"She was captured during a mission that Michael was in charge of. He thought she had been killed."

Nikita took a deep breath and continued. "Three years later, he found out she was alive and that she had been tortured by her captors, Glass Curtain, all that time.."

"Oh, God...."

"He went back for her and she died. Again." Nikita finished.

"Oh, Lord, no....." Sandy thought of her father being tortured in the camps, her anguish wondering if he was alive or dead. Her heart ached for Michael.

"Nikita, how come Section One didn't know she was alive?"

Nikita exhaled a breath slowly. "I've thought of that alot. I think Michael suspects that Operations knew she was alive and didn't tell him.."

"That BASTARD!" Sandy was stunned. Operations was even more callous than she could have imagined.

"There's something else," Nikita went on. "I never got the courage to ask him about it, but when Red Cell had the Directory and Michael and I were captured, they taunted him with something in his file. Used it to try and break him.."

"What?"

"He and Simone had a baby, a son. Michael suspected that Section had something to do with the child's death..."

"No! Oh, God, no! Michael...."

It was clear now. This explained Michael's anguish and his hatred. Operations had destroyed his family, killed his wife and child. And Simone hadn't died easily. Operations had let Michael's wife be tortured first...

"Nikita, what Michael suspects is true, isn't it? Operations destroyed his family, didn't he?"

"I think so." Nikita answered sadly.

"Damn him!" Sandy jumped to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Nikita asked.

There was fury in Sandy's eyes. "To MedLab," she said.

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

Sandy entered Operations' room quietly. He was sleeping, looking very pale. He had never seemed vunerable to her before now.

He looked so much like her father. She went up to his bed, her anger dissipating.

Tentatively, she reached out and stroked his cheek. His face carried the marks of stress and hard experience, each line a hard decision made.

Maybe she could identify with those hard choices. Like the one she had to make now.

She smoothed the hair at his temple. It was silky to her touch, the silver strands gleaming.

He used to be a young soldier, too, like her father, she thought. A young kid in Vietnam. What had the war done to him? What had Section done to him?

Sandy checked his vital signs on the monitors, and then took his pulse in his wrist.

The young, innocent soldier he had been had ended up here. Right here in this bed. With a weight of past sins layered on his soul. With no hope of redemption or freedom. With all innocence gone.

Sandy realized she pitied him deeply.

He looked like her father on the outside, but he wasn't anything like him on the inside. Her father had led a life of integrity. Her father had a loving soul of immense decency, strength, and goodness. Operations had none of these gifts.

Sandy sighed. Operations may have lost his soul, but she hadn't lost hers. She would be guided by the example of her father's life; she would try to live up to his moral legacy.

She knew what to do.

She touched his cheek briefly again, and left.

When the door closed behind her, Operations opened his eyes. He looked over to the alcove off the far side of the room. Michael stepped into view, coming up to the bed.

"She passed the test," Michael said.

"Yes, she did," said Operations. "Maybe you need to work on your powers of persuasion a little more, Michael," he taunted.

Michael closed his eyes for a moment. "Is that all?"

"Yes," said Operations wearily.

Michael turned and left.

While she still had the courage, Sandy went to Madeleine's office.

"Come in, Sandy," Madeleine greeted her. "I'm glad you're here. We've been re-evaluating your case..."

"Me, too," Sandy said quietly.

"And we've reached some conclusions about you," Madeleine continued.

"Yes?" They were going to cancel her. Sandy almost welcomed it.

"The type of person we need in a MedTech and a cold op are almost completely opposite. We see now that it is impossible for one person to be both," Madeleine explained.

"The qualities needed for each job are too conflicting..." She continued. "You'll be reassigned to Dr. Pierce in MedLab. We think your talents lie in that direction.."

"Oh.." said Sandy, stunned. She paused. "Michael won't train me anymore?"

"No," smiled Madeleine. "His part with you is done."

"I see." She didn't, but she would try to figure that out later.

"And Operations?" Sandy asked.

"You tell me. How is he?"

"It may take a few more days for the poison to clear his system. He's doing well. He should be fine...."

"Good." Madeleine said. "Take the rest of the day off. You can report to Dr. Pierce in the morning."

Sandy nodded. "Thank you, Madeleine."

Madeleine smiled. "Keep passing your tests and you'll be fine."

Sandy looked at Madeleine, unsmiling. "I'll try," she said solemnly.

As she closed the door on her way out, she felt something in the air around her. It was her father's presence, always with her.

"Thanks, Daddy," she whispered. With a lighter step, she continued down the hallways of Section One.

The End.

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

This story is dedicated in loving memory to
Kenneth E. McDonald
February 8, 1920 to January 11, 1992

As a young marine in WWII, he served his country. As an adult, he served his fellow veterans in the Veterans Administration. He was a devoted husband and father, a man of integrity and leadership, who remains to this day his family's Guardian Spirit.

We miss you, Dad.

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