Michael, resplendant in his tuxedo, put down his champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter and made his way casually through the throng to the balcony doors. Many in the elegantly dressed crowd of the wealthy and powerful, particularly the women, nodded and smiled at him.

Michael nodded and smiled back, but did not allow anyone to deter him from following his target.

"Focus on the mission" was the mantra he had taught all those he had trained. Right now, he was focused on Alicia Ashton, the hostess for the party. She had just stepped outside.

Exiting the french doors, Michael paused to let his eyes adjust from the brightly lit ballroom to the dark of the garden. There was no one on the terrace. He walked to the stone steps that led further into the garden.

"Alicia?" he called softly.

"Michael? Over here."

He turned toward the voice. In the faint light he could see the bottom hem of a cream-colored ball-gown extending past a dark hedge down the path to his right.

He quickly went down the staircase and walked a short way down the gravel path. A few steps further, and he saw his hostess and employer sitting on a bench tucked into the recess between two large yews.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Shhhh!" Her blue eyes glittered guiltily in the moonlight. "I'm escaping. I couldn't take it anymore..."

Michael sat down next to her on the bench. She had taken off her shoes and the high-heeled, elegantly strapped sandals now lay carelessly tossed on the grass just beyond the bench. Long slender hands with pink-painted nails massaged one dainty nylon-clad foot that she had rested on one knee.

She gave a small moan. "My feet are killing me... I think I must have danced with all three hundred people here at least twice...."

Michael smiled. "It's going very well. The donations have been larger than anticipated. And the party seems to be a great success."

Alicia nodded. She was very pretty, with dark hair done up in an classic french twist and delicate diamond-drops dangling from her small ears. She was in her late twenties, with a heart-shaped face and a slender figure.

Michael was reminded of Audrey Hepburn at the height of her youth and beauty. Alicia had the same combination of sweet vunerability and immense strength.

Alicia sighed. "I know. It IS going well. We've got nearly two-thirds of the funds we need. It's more than I ever hoped for. But....."

She stretched out her legs before her, heels resting in the grass, and leaned back, sighing again.

"Sometimes it just gets to be too much...."

"Too much dancing? Too much partying? Too much champagne?" Michael asked teasingly.

"Yes," she answered. "That, and the smiling and sucking up. And, basically, the begging. "

She shook her head. "I offer them what they want, a cachet into my fantasy world. I grant them entry into the fairy-tale castle..." She gestured at the garden and the mansion behind it.

"I give them an ego-stroke, basically, and they give me money." She grimaced. "Money for the new hospital wing, of course, but still, I feel so phony. Like I'm in a very old profession, if you get my drift..."

"It has to be done," said Michael solemnly.

Alicia laughed in delight. She put her hand lightly on his knee, letting it rest there just a moment.

"That's what I love about you, Michael....'

"What?" he asked, studying her.

She giggled. "Most people would be shocked that I compared charity work to prostitution, but you... " She shook her head, smiling. "You just understand completely."

Alicia gazed fondly at her assistant. Michael appearing when he did had been a god-send. She had been beginning to suffer the first stages of burn-out, rapidly becoming overwhelmed by all the details and planning involved in organizing the city's largest charity event three weeks ago.

That was when Michael appeared in her office, seemingly a gift from heaven, volunteering to co-ordinate and co-chair the whole affair. It was a thankless job that nobody wanted, and there he was, willing to lift some of the burden from her shoulders.

Alicia hired him on the spot, her instincts telling her it would be the wisest thing she would ever do. Or maybe it was just her fatigue and desparation, as well as Michael's charm, that persuaded her. Whatever the reason, she had not regretted her decision.

She insisted on paying him a salary. He certainly earned every penny, she thought. Michael had eased the pressures on her immensely. He had great organizational skills and was good with people. He worked long hours on the funding campaign, never seeming to tire.

Alicia was also sure the reason so many large donations had come in from so many wealthy women in the community was due to Michael's persuasive charm. That, along with his stunning good looks and air of sensual promise, had fluttered many a matronly heart, as well as check-book, open.

Michael was unfailingly friendly and open to his employer, but did not reveal much about his past or inner feelings. Alicia respected that and did not press. She knew often people got involved in charity work or causes when it touched their lives personally, frequently after having experienced a loss of some kind.

Once she had asked him why he was so devoted to seeing that the new hospital wing was built. A look of sadness had come into Michael's eyes and he had turned away from her for a minute, as if lost in a memory.

"Because children shouldn't die before their parents," he had replied softly.

Alicia nodded. After that, she had not asked about his past, reluctant to pry into obviously painful territory.

Over the weeks they worked together, an easy, comfortable friendship developing between them. Now, hiding in the dark garden, feeling somewhat like a school child playing hooky, Alicia smiled at Michael.

"You know, Michael," she confided, "I feel like I can be myself with you. You understand that THIS..." She gestured again at the house and her expensive gown, is not the real me..."

"And what would your real self like to be doing now?" Michael asked, smiling.

She stood up and twirled slowly in front of the bench. "Well, for starters, I'd be in my grubbiest jeans with my hair down, for sure. I'd be out here in the garden playing with my dogs on the lawn or digging in the flower-beds."

She shook her head. "AND, if I did any charity work, it would be the real kind, like visiting actual people in the hospital, not wheeling and dealing on the phone, luring money out of bored socialites with the promise of cheap thrills...'

"Or not so cheap, in this case..." Michael smiled wryly.

Alicia laughed. Then she gave him a look of mock offense. "Excuse me, but did you just call me a high-priced hooker?"

Michael bent and retrieved her sandals from the grass and held them out to her. "If the shoe fits..." he said, grinning.

Alicia gave a short laugh and snatched the shoes from his grip. She sat down next to him on the bench again and began putting them back on.

She sighed again. "My parents brought me up to understand that people with wealth and privelege have a duty to help those who don't have those advantages..."

"And you are doing just that. You are doing your duty, taking responsibility. Using your power to protect the unprotected...." Michael commented in a serious tone.

Alicia stopped in the middle of adjusting her shoe strap and looked at him thoughtfully.

"You're right, Michael. You always seem to help me see the big picture. The end result will be worth it all in the end. But sometimes...." She paused.

"Sometimes?" he prompted.

"Sometimes I find the means I have to use to achieve that end extremely distasteful, you know?"

"Yes," Michael answered. "I know."

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

Michael stood and offered his hand to Alicia. "We should be getting back."

She made a final adjustment on her shoe and then took his hand, standing up next to him. "All right. I suppose I have no choice."

"None," he said, almost grimly.

Alicia paused at his tone. "What is it, Michael?"

Michael delivered the distasteful news. "Senator Collins has been asking for you again."

"Oh, Lord," Alicia moaned, putting a hand up to rub her forehead. The politician had been persistently calling her ever since they had met at a city planning meeting two months before.

Alicia had tried to keep their acquaintanceship on a strictly business level, but she was painfully aware that the Senator was interested in so much more than that. He had an almost school-boy crush on her.

Her hints that she was disinterested, to say the least, went unheeded. He continued to send her flowers and extend invitations, in spite of her lack of response.

Inexplicably, Michael seemed to be on the Senator's side, almost approving of the courtship.

"Alicia, you should talk to him," he urged her now. "He's on the finance committee. As well as being extremely wealthy and well connected. He could be very helpful to us...."

She looked at Michael, pursing her mouth in an moue of disgust.

Michael recognized the mulish stubborness in her expression and knew he had to counter-act it.

"Please, Alicia. Don't brush him off."

"But, Michael..."

"No. Listen...." He gripped her arm and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "If you play it right, the hospital wing could be built before the end of the year..."

She hung her head, heaving a huge sigh. Then she looked up at Michael with a little smile.

"O.K., O.K.! You win. Anything for the cause," she capitulated. "I'll play nice with the Senator.."

Michael kissed her hand. "Thank you," he said fervently.

Alicia only shook her head at him and arm in arm they returned to the party.

Ten minutes later, watching the couple dancing in the crowded ball room, Michael knew his mission was in trouble.

The Senator, tall and athletic, his gray hair striking against his dark tan, was holding Alicia tightly in his arms. Collins was pleading in urgent whispers in her ear, an expression of longing devotion on his face.

The more he pleaded, the stiffer Alicia's posture became. Her frozen smile was dissolving, fast being replaced by her stubborn, angry look.

Michael stepped in to avert disaster.

"Excuse me, Miss Ashton," he said respectfully, interrupting their dance.

The Senator dropped his hands from Alicia and they stepped apart, she gratefully, he with reluctance.

"Yes, Michael?" she asked.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you," he apologized. "But you have an important phone call. In the study."

"Thank you, Michael," Alicia said, smiling at him. She turned back to the Senator.

"Will you excuse me, please?"

Collins was totally captivated by her sweet smile. "Of course, my dear," he said, admiration in his voice. "I'll be here waiting for you.."

Alicia's smile was forced. She wanted to tell him not to bother, but Michael squeezed her arm and gave her a warning look.

"How.... nice....." she managed to say. "I'll be right back..."

The Senator beamed.

"Michael," Alicia remarked playfully as he led her to the study. "Wahtever I'm paying you, it isn't nearly enough."

She gave him a genuine and dazzling smile. "Thank you for rescuing me..."

She received no answering smile from Michael. He stared at her intently, the grip on her arm tightening to an implacable grasp.

"Michael?" she asked uncertainly. She had never seen him like this.

They reached the study and he pushed open the door and led her into the room, locking the door behind them.

"Sit down," he ordered.

She sat in one of the armchairs set before the fireplace and looked at him in concern.

"Michael, what is it? What's wrong?"

He walked towards her and stood over her, his arms crossed across his chest, his expression grim.

"When we leave this room, you will go back and dance with the Senator. You will agree to meet with him..."

Alicia shook her head in protest. "No! I can wangle a check out of him without that..."

She tried to rise.

Michael grasped the arms of her chair, trapping her, cutting off all means of escape.

His face inches from hers, he stared into her eyes. "You will do exactly as I instruct you..."

Alicia backed up as far as she could in the chair, frightened.

"Wh..What's going on? Please, I don't understand..."

Michael stood, backing off and perching nearby on the the arm of the other chair flanking the fireplace. Without fanfare, he began his explanation.

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

Without fanfare, Michael began his explanation.

"As well as the finance committee, Senator Collins chairs the commitee on arms. Because of this position, he is privy to all secrets of new weapons development."

Michael leaned closer, lowering his voice, but not the level of intensity of his words.

"We discovered that he is negotiating with several terrorist groups to sell this sensitive information to them..."

Alicia's eyes widened in shock, but she remained silent.

Michael went on. "The Senator has been very careful. We believe the information is stored on a disk in his posession. We were unable to find it in any of the houses he owns, or in his office."

Michael heaved a sigh of frustration. "All of his personal things have been searched. We found nothing. Therefore, the disk must be at a private location unknown to us..."

"Who is 'us'? Who are you?" Alicia stared at Michael as if she had never seen him before. Perhaps, it occured to her, she hadn't.

Michael shook his head. "That's not important. What matters is that if this information is allowed to fall into the wrong hands, millions of people will die. Millions...."

"Why... Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michael's eyes softened. "Because you are his only weakness. You are our only way in..."

Alicia gasped and her lower lip trembled. "Oh, God..."

Michael looked around the room until his gaze lighted on the bar. He crossed to it and poured brandy from a crystal decanter into a glass. He returned and handed the drink to her.

She gulped it gratefully.

Relentlessy, Michael continued on. "Accept a date from Collins. Ask him to take you somewhere private and secluded. Tell him you insist that I accompany you as your body-guard."

Alicia closed her eyes and finished her brandy. Michael went on.

"When you get to his hideaway, have him send away any servants or guards he has with him. Tell him you insist on your privacy...."

Taking a deep breath, his voice full of regret, Michael told her the worst part. "I'll search for the disk while you.... distract him..."

Alicia gasped as it hit her fully what he was talking about. "While I sleep with him, you mean...."

"Yes."

"No!" she sobbed, shaking her head. "No, I can't..."

Michael went to her and put his hand gently on her shoulder. "Yes, you can. You can because you know you have no choice."

He spoke the words he knew would persuade her more than any threat could possibly do. "You can't stand by and allow all those innocent people to die.."

Alicia put her brandy glass down on the table beside her and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Michael waited, letting her cry.

He knew her repulsion at the idea of prostituting herself was strong. But her sense of duty was stronger, as was his.

He was not at all surprised when in a short time her sobs subsided. She lifted her head proudly and wiped her eyes. Her mouth was set in a grim line of steely determination.

She shuddered, but her eyes were steady and focused. "All right. All right, I'll do it."

He reached for her hand and helped her rise from her chair. They walked to the door together. Before he opened it, Michael put his back to the door and looked at her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She glanced quickly at him, then took a deep breath and forced another smile.

"Let's go," she said bravely, holding her head high.

Michael, admiration in his eyes, opened the door for her and allowed her to walk proudly ahead of him back to the ballroom.

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

Five days later, Alicia sat behind the desk in her study. She was wearing her favorite pair of old, faded jeans and an over-sized sweatshirt. Her hair was down, lying in soft, loose curls down her back.

The charity ball was over. The unexpected mission was over. She was home. She was safe, surrounded by all her old familiar things.

She looked around the room, restless. I should feel relaxed, she told herself. I should feel comfortable here. At home, with everything back to normal. It's over.

Alicia sighed and rested her head in her hands. A nervous knot of tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her stomach. It had taken two days for her hands to stop shaking. Sleeping had become impossible...

Stop it. It's over, she told herself again.

The mission had gone smoothly. She had done everything Michael had told her. She had insisted to Collins that they go to his private hideway, insisted that Michael accompany them, insisted on the guards and servants leaving.

Collins aquiesced to everything.

The senator was so love-struck, so infatuated, he would have gone along with anything she might have suggested. Anything except not having sex. On that point he was very determined...

Alicia shook her head, almost as if she hoped the movement would clear the memories from it. Don't think about it, she told herself.

The pictures in her mind ate away at her. She hated herself.

No, not hate, she amended. Hate implied some kind of grudging respect. She despised herself.

Had she become what she had so much contempt for? Was she a whore?

The knot in her stomach twisted again. There was no one who could answer this question for her. No one to discuss it with. There was only one person....

She jumped when she heard a soft tap on her door.

"Yes? Come in," she called out.

As if she had conjured him there with her thoughts, the person she most needed to see stood in the doorway.

"Michael?" she gasped.

He approached slowly, only taking a few steps into the room. He didn't expect her to be happy to see him.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't stay long. I only came to give you this..."

He took a white envelope out of his coat pocket and held it out to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

He crossed the room to her and again extended the envelope to her. She took it from him, looking up into his face in puzzlement.

"Go on. Open it."

Michael had obtained the contents of the envelope during the thourough and effective de-briefing of Senator Collins. Michael had used his scrambling device so that Section was unaware of what he had demanded from the terrified politician.

Michael considered the contents of the envelope to be his personal atonement to Alicia for how they, himself and Section, had used and deceived her.

Alicia undid the envelope's seal and took out the slip of paper inside. It was a check for the balance of the amount needed to finish building the new hospital wing. It was made out by Senator Collins from his personal account.

She took in a sharp, audible breath and flinched, as if someone had delivered a hard blow to her stomach.

"No..."

"Take it, please," Michael urged her. "You earned it."

He couldn't have chosen a worse combination, the money and those words. It was if he had stabbed her with a knife and twisted it in her wounds.

"Earned it?" she cried out, her voice rising. "Earned it? On my back, you mean?"

She dissolved into tears, her tenuous control breaking.

Cursing himself, Michael immediately realized his mistake. "Alicia, no.."

He reached for her. His hands on her shoulders, he drew her into an embrace. She struggled briefly, then collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

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

Michael held her close, letting her cry. He rested his cheek against her hair, murmuring in her ear. "Shhhh... It's all right...."

She pulled back from him and turned her tear-stained face up to his. "No! No, it's not!" she said, shaking her head. "Nothing's all right anymore..."

Michael had planned to come see Alicia one more time, to just give her the check and leave. But now, with her eyes looking imploringly into his, pleading for answers, he knew he had to stay. To explain...

He wasn't sure where to begin. He didn't know if he had any answers for her or any comfort to give. He had been where she was now, agonized and appalled at himself, shocked at what he was capable of. Had experienced the pain of questioning himself over and over.

Each time he killed an enemy, or played a role, or whored himself in the name of Section's greater good, he felt like he had lost another piece of his soul.

His only defence mechanism was to split himself in two. To compartmentalize the horrors he performed for Section from his real feelings. To keep the two halves of himself rigidly separate.

Sometimes this was impossible to do. Betraying his friend Rene had nearly broken him. So had pretending to Section that Nikita's loss, her death in the Shays mission, had not affected him.

The line between the two halves blurred horribly and painfully most with her, refusing to stay separate. Especially when he had to lie and manipulate Nikita, to hurt her and push her away, in order to keep her alive. It was difficult, but he did it. Because... Because he loved her? He didn't know what love was anymore. Or truth. He only knew duty. And duty was something he knew Alicia understood.

"Sit down," he said gently, guiding her to a chair.

He walked to the bar and poured her another brandy. She took it from him and lowered her eyes, staring into the rich liquid depths in the crystal glass.

"About the check..." Michael began.

Alicia stiffened but didn't look up at him. Michael continued.

"The people I work for don't know I acquired the money from him. For you..."

She let out a little gasp and looked at Michael, her eyes searching his face.

"Their only concern was stopping the Senator from selling the information. They don't care about compensating you for your... sacrifice..."

Michael sat down in the chair opposite hers. He leaned back in it and sighed. "But I do."

"Michael..." Alicia's breath caught in her lungs, and she found herself waiting anxiously to hear what he would tell her next.

"I knew funding the new hospital wing was important to you. The money was the only thing I could give you to ... " Michael searched for the right word.

"To honor you..." He finished. "You saved many lives. You did a brave thing, a noble thing..."

Alicia took a gulp of her drink and then gave a short laugh. "Noble?" She shook her head, then leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes.

"Before... I thought I knew who I was. A nice person. A good person. Doing good things...." She took another sip of brandy and continued. "With the fund-raising, I was bothered by some of the things I did. I didn't ....lie, not exactly. Just played a role, I guess..." She looked up at Michael. "It's like there was a line. A line I didn't exactly go over, but that sometimes I got very close to..."

Alicia's tears began again. "And then.. Then, you.... and this...." She sobbed. "Then I was suddenly not just over the line, but over the edge. Deep into territory I didn't even know was there before. I had fallen into a place where I didn't know it was even possible for me to go...."

Tears spilled over her cheeks. "When I look in the mirror, I don't know who that person is anymore..."

Michael leaned forward and took her hand in his, gripping it, as if he could impart some of his strength to her. "Alicia, no..."

He looked at her in complete understanding. He had experienced that moment of going over the edge of the abyss himself, so long ago...

He remembered how he was, those many years ago in Paris at the University. He was so young then, and impossibly idealistic. He thought of himself a good person, a hero of sorts. A person who saw the right thing to do and did it, no matter what the cost.

Taking action, fighting for the Cause had seemed noble then. Before the bomb went off, it had seemed perfectly justified. It was the only thing to do. It would change things. It would start things, push things to happen. It would make things better for everyone.

It wasn't until he had been arrested and was in jail that the impact of what he had actually done hit him. People had died in the bombing. He was a murderer. How could he not have seen that?

While he was still struggling with this truth, he "died" in prison and found himself even further over the edge into the abyss of Section One.

It was like falling into a moral black hole, an inverted, through-the-looking-glass world where killing in cold blood was the highest good and whoring was considered heroic.

The solid ground that he thought he was standing on shifted, the firm foundations of black and white dissolving like mist beneath him. There was nothing to hang onto; no good, no evil- just a shifting kaleidoscope made of countless shades of gray.

He clung to the only thing that was solid. The ends justified the means. And their ends were just. They protected the innocent, defended the helpless. Like Alicia.

"Alicia, remember what you talked about in the garden that night?" Michael said softly.

"The garden?" she asked, puzzled.

"You talked about what your parents taught you. About duty. About the obligation that people with power and position have to help those without those priveleges...."

Alicia buried her face in her hands. The mention of her parents wounded her, an incredible shame welling up inside her chest. "I... I failed them..."

"No." Michael knelt before her, pulling her hands away from her face and making her look at him.

"Alicia, you didn't fail. You were given a test and you ... passed. You made the only choice you could. A very hard choice, certainly, but the right one. You saved many innocent lives.." She lowered her eyes and turned her head away, but Michael took her face in his hands, gently turning her back until their eyes met again.

"Alicia, listen to me. You are a fine person, a good person..." His voice lowered, and he went on intensely, "When you look in the mirror again, I want you to see the heroine there..."

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "The heroine, Michael? Only the heroine and not the whore?"

"Alicia.."

She looked at him intently, her eyes searching his face. "What if the heroine and the whore are the same person?"

He leaned forward and gathered her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, still crying a little.

"Alicia, please trust me. Please believe me." He stroked her hair, imparting as much comfort as he could. "There is no whore here. Understand?"

She did not answer and Michael realized he needed her to say she understood. He needed her to be whole again. He needed to know the damage he had done would not be permanent. He had to know for his own peace of mind that the wounds to her soul would heal.

"Please, Alicia...." Michael begged. It was a plea for forgiveness.

Alicia understood that. She knew it was in her power to help Michael. She realized she was not the only one in the room with wounds, and that she was in a position that she could heal, at least partially, some of his.

At that moment, she knew it was her privelege to do so.

She pulled Michael closer and gave him a warm kiss on his cheek. Then she pushed back from him and smiled up into his face.

"Yes, Michael. I understand," she lied. "Thank you."

Michael felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He pressed his lips lightly to her cheek, his kiss just as tender as hers. He smiled.

"Take care, Alicia," he said, rising up and moving to the door.

"Take care, Michael."

She watched him leave, it seemed to her, with a lighter step than when he had entered.

Lowering her eyes to the floor, she saw the envelope lying there with the check. She had the sudden urge to rip it to shreds, to have the satisfaction of tearing it in pieces and scattering it across the carpet. But she knew destroying it would not bring things back to the way they were.

Evil had touched her, or she had touched it, and she was irrevocably changed.

With one swift movement, her expression determined, she picked up the light, almost weightless piece of paper that felt to her to be so heavy with duty.

She held the great burden of it in her hand and walked in dignity out of the room.

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