"Are you ready to tell me what I need to know?" Madeleine asked quietly.

She had released the captive a moment before from the metal chair and the victim, a young girl, had gone sprawling, collapsing onto the cold floor. The girl moaned and curled into a fetal position, eyelids fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious.

Madeleine walked carefully in a tight circle around her, heels clicking on the hard tile. She stopped and looked calmly down at her prey.

Long, brown hair lay snarled and disordered around the young woman's thin shoulders. The hair had been pretty earlier that day, before the Section's men had worked her over. Her face had been pretty, too. Now it was sickly pale except where the bruises darkened it and blood flowed from a cut on her temple onto what had been flawless skin.

The girl caught her breath and had managed to open her eyes. She stared up at Madeleine, an expression of calm knowing replacing the fear. Blue eyes, lashes still wet with tears, locked with brown.

Madeleine found herself unable to look away. It was as if the girl held her captive now with her gaze. It penetrated her, went down to her soul, pierced the dark depths there, shining a light, searching.....

Madeleine gasped. She was caught, helpless, as the girl looked into her soul. Madeleine went cold; she had never experienced anything like this. She couldn't move, couldn't look away...

From the floor, still crumpled and dazed, the girl spoke quietly, her eyes still ensnared in Madeleine's.

"What you need to know," the girl whispered softly, "is that you didn't push your sister down the stairs.."

Madeleine flinched in shock, but was still unable to break away from the mezmerizing blue eyes, the soft voice.

The girl went on in the same level tone. "That's what everyone assumed, that's what everyone said, over and over- the police, the lawyers, your mother, the neighbors, the town....'

"They kept saying you pushed her. Kept saying it over and over until YOU believed it. But you know deep down it wasn't like that, don't you?"

"Try to remember now. You can if you try," the girl continued. "Think, really THINK...."

Madeliene whimpered. The voice went on. "Sarah hit you, and she pulled the doll from your arms. You were trying to hold on to it, weren't you? That's all. She ripped it from you, yanking it out of your grasp. And that's when she tumbled back...."

"No," the older woman moaned. "No, I pushed her. I did...."

"No, don't you remember, Madeleine? It wasn't you who pushed her. It was the force of her greed that sent her falling, it was her will to possesss your toy that killed her..."

"The world twisted everything around. Said you were the bad one. They didn't want to blame Sarah. She was always the favorite. So they told you you were evil. Told you so many times that finally you believed them...."

The girl's voice went on, still calm, but unrelenting. " But you're not evil, Madeleine. You never were..."

"It wasn't your fault. That's what you needed to know..."

The girl suddenly shuddered and coughed, the blue eyes closing. She lay still on the floor, the trance broken.

Madeleine still could not look away. She stood staring at the girl in shock. Such an ordinary girl, weak, pathetically broken and helpless at her feet. A stranger, yet..

Yet she had known her, known all about her. Her deepest memories, her needs, her soul's naked cry for forgiveness..

These were things she hadn't been able to face, truths about her life she didn't want to uncover, but now they were out, the words spoken...

Madeleine sighed and closed her eyes. These words had been kind. She realized she didn't feel violated and stripped naked by thees words, like she had been when Gregor Kessler ahd taunted her about her past, rubbing salt in her old, but painfully raw and unhealed wounds..

The girl's words had been gentle. They had brought the hidden, ugly, dark things, to the light, out in the open. And in the light, the shadows of her past had dissipated, losing their power to frighten her..

She remembered now. Remembered how she went along with everyone else's version of Sarah. Sarah, the sweet. Sarah, the perfect. Everything was all Madeleine's fault. She wasn't Sarah. She was some flawed version of her perfect sister, never good enough...

Madeleine remembered more. The doll was hers. A special birthday gift from her Uncle. The one who liked her better. But Sarah had wanted it.

Sarah always thought that Madeleine's right to things was unimportant, that Madeleine's toys were her due. And she wanted the doll. Not to play with. Not because it was beautiful. No..

She wanted it so that she could destroy it, as she destroyed all the things that Madeleine loved. Madeleine couldn't be allowed to have something so special. SHE, Sarah, was the only special one. In a jealous rage, she had shoved her sister closer to the edge of the landing, then pulled the doll viciously from her arms, then fell.....

Shivering, Madeliene opened her eyes. The past was clear now. The lies of her childhood were out in the open. The gentle words had made her see it all.

She felt calmer now, after the initial shock. A heavy weight of self-hatred had been lifted from her. For the first time in years, she felt light... she felt free of the pain she always carried with her. She felt.... healed....

With a deep shuddering sigh, Madleine glanced one more time at the prisoner and then walked, head held high, to the door.

"Take her to a cell. We'll start again tomorrow," she told the guards outside, her voice steady and calm.

With a lightness in her step that hadn't been there before, she walked with swift assurance back to her office.

Operations flipped off the view screen in his tower where he had been watching the interrogation. He had wanted to interrupt when the girl started speaking, but he, like Madeleine, had been held mesmerized by her words.

His hand shook as he lit his cigarette. Nothing bothered him more than things being out of his control, and they felt very out of control now.

What the hell had just happened in there? he thought.

"Michael!" he yelled, slamming his hand down on the intercomm button. "In my office. NOW!"

***********

"Yes?"

Michael stood in the tower office, hands folded in front of him, face impassive. Outwardly calm, he, too, had been shaken by what he had seen that afternoon in the white room.

Operations shoved his hands violently in his pockets and huffed out a breath. "Did you monitor the Bruehaf interrogation?" he demanded.

"Yes, I saw it," said Michael levelly in his soft, accented voice.

His calmness annoyed the older man, exacerbating his already strained nerves. "AND?" he yelled. "Why weren't we prepared for this? What the hell happened in there?"

Michael paused, letting Operations glare at him for a moment before he attempted to answer. It was an intellectual answer from a man who did not want to deal just yet with the emotions the scene had brought up in him.

"From our intel, we know that Liesel Bruehaf was a rather..... precocious child and that her father, Werner, exploited her from a young age..." Michael began.

"He was a petty con-man then. Not into high-profile drug and arms dealing like he is now. He used her to make money, performing parlour tricks, traveling from side-shows to small town theaters. She was the sole support of her family..."

Operations frowned, and fished into his pocket for another cigarette. "And? what else?" he asked testily.

"Apparently she was quite successful. Bruehaf made several gambling bets based on her predictions. He accumulated enough wealth to branch out into other areas of crime, expanding until he got where he is now..."

"Hmmm, yes," Operations commented, puffing on his tobacco. "Big enough to come to our attention..."

Michael nodded. "And Liesel has always been at the center of his organization, privy to everything. She could tell us of his whereabouts, his next arms sale..."

That was the reason they had brought her in in the first place. Section wanted to bring down her father, Werner, very badly.

Operations let out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, voice still exasperated. "That's not telling me anything I don't already know, Michael."

He fixed the younger man with his cold blue-eyed glare. "I want to know how she gained access to highly classified information about top Section personnel. Dammit, that information about Madeleine isn't even in the Directory..."

"Nevertheless, Gregor Kessler knew about it," replied Michael, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Liesel might have heard about it from the terrorist community she is immersed in.."

He sounded doubtful, even to himself. That just didn't seem to feel right. He wondered why...

"Are you saying Liesel Bruehaf is as savvy a con-woman as her father? Or... Gregor Kessler?" Operations gulped nervously. "And that that whole scene with Madeleine was another stage show for her?"

He didn't like the implications of that scenario at all. Operations disliked intensely the idea that a master-mind equal to Kessler was here in Section, brazen enough to mess with his Madeleine.

He stubbed his cigarette out visciously. "Well?"

"It's one possibility," said Michael tensely.

"And you have have another?" demanded the silver-haired man.

A muscle in Michael's jaw twitched. He was sure Operations would like the second explanation even less than the first.

"What Liesel told Madeleine was not ... harmful to her," Michael said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Her words were kind. In fact, it was almost .... therapeutic for her..."

"What are you saying, Michael?" Operations glared at him again.

Michael hesitated, then bit his lip and spoke. "I'm saying Liesel might have a genuine psychic gift...."

Operations went pale and silent for a moment with rage, anger choking him. Then his voice returned to him, and he shouted at the other man. "Is that supposed to be funny, Michael?"

Michael shut his eyes, then faced his commander again. "No, it was a serious answer. You asked for ... possibilities," he replied softly.

Sighing loudly, Operations grabbed Michael by the lapels and pulled him close until his face was inches from his own.

"You get this straight, Michael," he hissed, glaring into the younger man's green eyes. "You interrogate that little psychic and break her..."

His chest heaving, he shouted the order again, shaking Michael with each word. "BREAK her, do you hear me?"

Michael managed to stay calm, staring back at his enraged boss. He knew Operations was not so much angry with him as afraid for Madeleine. Any threat to Madeleine always hit a raw nerve...

"Yes, I hear you," acknowledged Michael softly.

Operations relaesed him and slumped back against the railing. "Go," he said.

Michael nodded, turned on his heel, and walked to the stairs. Before he reached them, Operations called him back for one last order.

"Michael," he said tersely, his teeth clenched. "Whatever it takes.."

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

Liesel groaned and shifted on the hard cot in her cell. It was a small room, stark and spare like the interrogation room had been, but she was grateful to be here. Very grateful. Anything was preferable to being in the white room again.

The bad feelings had started even before they had strapped her in the chair. At the touch of the strap on her skin, the feel of the cold metal of the chair against her body, the memory echoes had descended, flooding her mind, almost overwhelming her.

She wanted to scream. Scream like all the others did....

So many had died there, slowly, in agony. She could feel them, their experiences still imprinted there.

The walls of the room had been scrubbed clean of blood, but for her it still lingered, as did the screams. They echoed in her mind.

With very little effort, she could have opened herself up and become lost in the terror. It took all her will to clamp down on the images, to shut off the input from her extra senses. Usually, Liesel liked to remain open, but it wasn't safe. Not here. Not in this white room...

Liesel winced and turned on her side. It hadn't mattered after the beating they gave her, anyway. None of her shields worked then; everything flooded in. Including the past of the woman who had interrogated her...

She had been lying on the floor, fighting the pain and the fear, when she suddenly found herself lost in a little girl's past. A little girl named Madeleine, with brown eyes and auburn hair.

She WAS the little girl. Felt her feelings, lived her experiences. Knew her bewilderment, her sadness. No love.. there was no love for her. All the love was for Sarah... Poor, poor little girl....

Liesel shook her head, trying to free it from the images. It was a burden sometimes, to understand another's pain so completely. Many people would not consider that particular ability a gift, but Liesel had always been glad she had been born with her special talents.

She would not have traded those abilities for anything. She had no desire to be "normal". It was as if she lived in a world of deaf people, and only she could hear the beautiful music everywhere. And everyone thought there was something wrong with her, because, of course, to them there was no such thing as music...

Suddenly, Liesel jumped, and moved off of the cot to crouch in the far corner of the room. She stared apprehensively at the door.

Before her physical ears heard them, her inner senses told her someone was coming. They were going to question her again. They were going to take her back to that horrible white room....

"No.. no... please... no...." She was whimpering even before they opened the door.

By the time they entered she was screaming.

"No! No more.. Please! No!" she sobbed, as Michael and two guards surrounded her.

Through her tears she looked up at him. His eyes were not hard and cold like the others, but soft and deep. Despite his impassive expression, she could read the pity there in those green eyes, eyes that revealed a soul that was quiet and still, like a lake, but so very, very deep....

Now the quiet one handed a black hood to one of the guards that flanked him. Liesel shrank back further into the corner, her back pressed against the wall.

Green eyes locked with blue. "Take her," ordered Michael.

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

Operations went to let himself into Madeleine's office, eagerly punching in the numbers on the key-pad lock and anxiously waiting for the door to slide open.

He had wanted to go see her as soon as his meeting with Michael was over, but he had been delayed by several urgent matters, including a phone call from the President, a conference call with several leaders of Section 5, and a request from Birkoff for instructions on several missions that were already in play.

Now he was free to check on Madeleine. He hoped she was all right after what that fraud of a girl had put her through, dredging up her past like that...

The door slid open and Operations at first did not see her. Had she left Section? Had she gone home to lick her wounds? Liesel Bruehaf would pay for this, he vowed. As would her father....

"Hello," said a soft-voiced Madeleine. She had turned in her chair, of which the wings and high back had hidden her from view.

"How are you feeling, My Dear?" Operations asked anxiously.

She smiled like he had seldom seen her smile. It lit up her face, reaching her eyes. She looked... happy.

"I'm fine," she chirped, a lilt in her voice.

Somewhat stunned, Operations moved closer to get a better look. Perhaps she had resorted to taking some kind of drug to ease her distress, but then he realized the smile was not from any narcotic, but was genuine. Her eyes were too clear and shiny, her manner not dull and drowsy, but sharply alert.

The next thing he noticed was the necklace.

"You've decided to wear it?" he gasped out in shock. He had given her the strand of rubies and diamonds for her birthday months ago, but she had never worn it. Until now.

"Yes," she said, still smiling at him. "It is lovely.." She touched the glittering stones at her throat, fingering the fine strand of jewels lovingly.

Madeleine paused. She didn't know how to tell him that since talking to Liesel, she didn't hate herself quite as much. Didn't feel the need to punish herself like she usually did. Didn't want to deny herself those things in life that could make her happy...

Instead, she looked at him warmly and asked, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Uh.. that would be nice. Yes..." Operations stammered lamely. He was still processing his surprise. He had expected to find her distraught and tense. Not like this, so carefree, so light-hearted.

"Are you sure you're all right, My Dear?" he asked again.

"Positive," she assured him.

He nodded. "I thought you might be upset after the Bruehaf interrogation," he told her. "You don't have to worry about her from now on. I sent Michael to handle it."

Madeleine's smile dimmed. "Handle it how?" she asked warily.

"The usual," he commented absently. "Whatever it takes.."

"I see," said Madeleine thoughtfully, the smile almost gone now.

"Marcus, I really think..." she began.

Before she could finish, the intercom on Madeleine's desk beeped. "Sir?" asked a young, disembodied male voice.

Operations slapped it on in annoyance and responded. "Yes? What is it, Birkoff?"

"George is on-line through the sattelite link-up. Wants to talk to you about the latest from the South African incident..."

"Tell him I'll be right there," Operations huffed. He turned to Madeleine. "Dinner later, right?"

"Right," she said, trying to smile again.

He nodded and left, humming a tune under his breath, his step definitely lighter than when he had come in.

Madeleine swiveled in her chair, looking thoughtful again. She wasn't exactly sure how she wanted to handle the Bruehaf girl, but she knew more violence was not her first preference.

She might have to be very subtle on this one. Perhaps she could work around Operation's orders. She had done it before. She wasn't going to lie to him exactly; perhaps just handle things her way and then just forget to go into actual details with him....

She smiled again. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Hmmmm..." she said softly to herself. "Perhaps I should monitor the situation first..."

Tapping her chin thoughtfully with her fingers, she turned on the surveillance screen at her desk.

***********

"Sit down, please," Michael said politely.

Liesel stood blinking at him from the corner of his office, her back to the wall. The hood had been removed and the guards who had escorted her there were now on the other side of the closed office door. She was alone with the quiet one. And very, very scared.

Her lower lip trembled and her breaths came in short gasps. Michael's eyes flickered quickly over her, making an assessment. Whatever else she might be, whatever abilities she did or did not have, right now Liesel Bruehaf was just a very frightened and bewildered sixteen year old girl.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a soft, soothing voice. "I just want to talk to you, O.K.?"

He pulled out the chair again for her, and then very cautiously retreated to the far side of the desk and sat down in his own chair. He kept his movements slow and deliberate so as not to frighten her further.

"Please," he said again, gesturing at the chair.

Liesel stared warily at him for a moment, letting her senses open up to him and to the room. As in the white room, there were some disturbing echoes here as well, but she felt no immediate threat emanating from the quiet one. She could trust him ..... for now.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, she moved out of the shelter of the corner and sat gingerly in the chair. There were memory traces in this chair, too. She closed her eyes, hearing the words in her head that had imprinted from an emotionally charged moment in the past from another occupant of the chair Liesel now sat in.

[How could you do this, Michael? Not to him, to ME? Did it really happen, that night we had together? Or was it just a dream?]

The anguished questions washed over Liesel and she felt the hurt that another woman had suffered, and underlying the hurt Liesel sensed the deep love that the speaker of the words had for this man....

Liesel opened her eyes and looked across the desk to the quiet one sitting opposite her. "You're name is Michael," she stated levelly.

Michael's eyes widened in surprise, but he kept his voice calm. "Yes, that's correct. Who told you that?"

Liesel sighed. "No one. I just.. I just know."

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

"That's very interesting," said Michael in a friendly tone. "I'd like to hear more about your abilities, about what you can do...."

Liesel was silent, but she had stopped trembling now and looked a little calmer than before. He judged she was a little more relaxed and could handle a harder question. Michael forged on.

He took a small pack of cards from his pocket and held them out to her. They weren't ordinary playing cards, but instead had symbols on them in heavy black outlines- a star, a circle, a square....

They were ESP cards. They were used in parapsychology experiments to test telepathy. The subject would guess(?) which symbol the experimenter was looking at on the card. Sometimes the tests were run with the subject in a totally different room than the reader, just to insure there was no fraud involved.

Liesel stared at the cards, making no effort to take them from Michael.

"Shall we play a game, Liesel?" he said softly, and started to select one card from the pack.

Suddenly, the girl's face crumpled into tears and she jumped up quickly, almost overturning her chair, flinching back from him.

"No!" she sobbed. "I don't want to! I don't want to play any stupid games!"

"Liesel..." Michael soothed, still holding out the cards.

Chest heaving, Liesel snatched the deck from his hands and flung the cards at him. "No! No more!" she cried, her body shaking with sobs.

Michael sat perfectly still, not reacting as the cards impacted harmlessly against his chest and slid down his jacket front to his lap and then clattered on the floor.

Liesel stood gasping, the trembling starting again. Michael looked at her calmly and reached into his jacket again. This time what he offered her was his handkerchief.

"Here," he said in genuine sympathy, holding it out to her. "I'm sorry I upset you."

Liesel hesitated, then cautiously took the white linen cloth from him and sat down in the chair again. She began wiping her eyes.

"I suppose you've been tested by a lot of people," Michael said in the same friendly tone as before. "Scientists? Psychologists?"

Liesel sniffed and scrubbed her eyes one more time with the handkerchief. "Yes. All sorts of people. All the time. I..."

She looked up into the sympathetic green eyes. "I never liked it. They all looked at me as if I were some kind of .... freak. Treated me like I wasn't human. It was degrading, always being asked to perform like some kind of trained monkey or something..."

"I see," said Michael, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So, the officials all treated you with contempt?"

"Yeah, I guess that's right."

Michael tilted his head and looked at her. This time the soft voice had a steely edge to it. "And the drug pushers and the arms dealers?" he asked. "Do they all treat you with respect?"

Liesel flushed in embarrassment and looked down, twisting the handkerchief in her lap.

"I hate them," she whispered. "I hate what they do..."

"Then why do you help them?" Michael asked.

She lifted tear-filled eyes to his. "I don't want to. But Daddy..." She stopped, her voice choking on a sob.

"But Daddy gets angry with me if I don't tell him the things I know. If I don't help him make money...." The soft blue eyes looked pleadingly at Michael for understanding.

Michael's jaw clenched, and he pursed his lips in a grim line. Liesel was no master criminal, but an innocent, gifted child who had been abused and exploited her whole life by her father.

"What would you like to do with your gifts?" Michael asked quietly. "What if you didn't have to help your father and his.. friends? If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?"

Michael asked the fantasy question to buy time. He needed a moment to think. How was he going to help Liesel? Operations would no doubt order her cancelled as soon as they had the intel Section wanted to know from her.

Michael doubted Operations would ever believe that the girl's talents were genuine. He was probably like the doubting scientists that had tested her over and over. No matter what she did, it would never be enough proof...

Liesel smiled a little at the question. She had thought about it a lot, but no one had ever asked her before what SHE wanted. She found the experience of being listened to with genuine interest and respect a heady one. She could sense Michael's very real concern for her.

"Well," she began shyly, "What I really want to do is help people...."

She leaned toward him eagerly, encouraged by his attentive silence.

"Once, I got to help the police. Daddy took me there because there was a reward for anyone who could help find a kidnapped little boy...."

"And you found him?" asked Michael.

Liesel nodded, her smile widening. "Yes! I told them exactly where to look and the S.W.A.T. team got him out of there. They shot the kidnapper..."

"You must have been very proud," commented Michael softly.

Liesel blushed, pleased with his praise. "You want to know what the best part was?" she continued. "The best part was when I got to meet the little boy's parents and his Mama was so happy, she kept hugging me...."

Liesel sighed. "I liked that," she said wistfully. She missed having her own mother to love her, but she had died years ago.

"It felt good to help people," Liesel went on, her happy smile fading. "But Daddy didn't want me to do that anymore. He said there was more money to be made selling drugs...."

The girl looked down at her lap again, her face infinitely sad.

Michael leaned forward and stretched out his hand to take one of hers that rested on the desk.

"Would you like the chance to help people again, Liesel?" he said softly. "Would you like to help.... me?"

Michael paused, his body tensing. He was going to ask her to tell him where her father was, to tell him the location of the arms dealers and the drug sellers. Anguish knotted his stomach. Once he had that information, it was only a matter of time before the girl would be ordered killed.

He clenched his teeth, and swallowed hard. Sometimes this job was unbearable...

Liesel looked up at him with trusting eyes, and opened her extra senses to him. She cocked her head to one side, as if listening to music he couldn't hear.

She felt his anguish, and his fear. And a deep longing, a yearning need engulfed her. His emotions were imprinted on this room, the despair and desperate loneliness he had felt there washing over her.

The words hit her, repeating loudly in her mind. The same words over and over, Michael's anguished cry of loss....

[Nikita, are you there? Nikita, are you there? Nikita, are you there? Nikita.....]

Liesel gave his hand in hers a reassuring squeeze. "I'll help you, Michael," she said gently.

She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I'll help you with Nikita...."

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

Michael froze for a moment in shock, feeling the world tilt around him. Had he been fooled by her? Was the seeming vunerability and sweetness all an act on her part? Was Liesel some kind of mastermind like Operations thought, cunningly attacking him at his weakest point?

He looked into the soft blue eyes gazing gently into his. He saw nothing but a child's compassion for someone in pain. Liesel did not want to hurt him.

He let out his breath in a sigh and moved back in his chair, swiftly pressing the numbers on the keypad that would de-activate the surveillance in his office.

"What about Nikita?" he asked, breathlessly.

Liesel tilted her head, a puzzled look on her face. "Isn't she gone somewhere? Somewhere far away? You miss her..."

Michael paled, staying silent.

Liesel put her hand on his shoulder again. "I can help you find her, Michael. I'm good at finding people..."

Michael sighed, realizing suddenly that what Liesel sensed was the emotional distance between them now, the vast gulf of distrust that lay between him and Nikita. It was like a huge chasm, too deep and too wide to cross.

Nikita might as well be on the other side of the world instead of right here in Section, as far as their emotional closeness was concerned. Nikita was indeed far, far away.

"No, you're wrong. She's not lost," said Michael quietly. "Thank you, but I don't need your help.."

Liesel dropped her hand from his shoulder and sat back in her chair. She rubbed a hand over her face and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "Are you sure I can't help you, Michael?"

"Yes, positive," he said, regaining his composure and assuming his usual stoic demeanor again. His mask of impassivity was back on, though not quite as firmly in place as before.

"I'm fine," he told her, using his standard line of denial.

"No, Michael, you're not," she said calmly. "You're not fine."

Her blues eyes fixed on him and despite his shields, he felt as Madeleine had when she was with Liesel before. He felt the child's eyes look past his defenses and penetrate deep into his soul....

"You're very unhappy, Michael. You want to be with Nikita...."

Liesel's voice was level and calm, mezmerizing. Michael found himself unable to deny the truth of her words any longer. Before he knew it, he heard himself answer her honestly. She had opened up a window into his soul, pulling back the layers of all his defenses, and he was too entranced to lie.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I'm so lonely without her...."

"You love her, don't you?"

Liesel's words echoed in his mind, holding up a mirror to him. He saw himself there, saw the emptiness of his life reflected back to him. A bleak, empty life without Nikita...

"Yes," he said, with a little gasp. "I love her. I always have...."

***********

Love. Liesel understood love. She had known what it was to be cherished once, but now her Mother was gone. Perhaps she knew more about what it was to live without love, as she did now.

She and Madeleine had that in common. They both shared the sense of an irrevocable loss in their lives, the thirst for something they could never have.....

But Michael's pain was different. Liesel could sense the echoes of Nikita's caring in this room. The traces of her words were there, all around in these cold gray walls. Here in this underground tomb, they were warm and alive...

[Michael, I want to know how you feel..]

[I came back. For YOU. I want us to be together..]

[I was wondering why you hadn't come to see me..]

She was alive, and near, and she loved him, too. The one Michael wanted to be with wasn't beyond his reach, wasn't lost, wasn't indifferent..

Liesel frowned. Why weren't they together?

She closed her eyes and heard more echoes. Michael's replies to Nikita's ever more tentative and confused requests of him for closeness, for friendship, for anything, any crumb at all....

[Get over it.]

[Be patient.]

[Now's not a good time.]

[I'm busy.]

[I can't tell you... yet.]

Liesel sighed. No wonder Nikita wasn't here with him. He pushed her away, shut her out with his paucity of words. Nikita was starving from the lack of those words, her heart shriveling, her soul shrinking...

She could survive if she could only hear just a few words. Nikita's heart would be instantly healed if she heard those words, and Michael's heart would be, too...

Angrily, Liesel opened her eyes. "You've never told her, have you Michael?" she demanded in an exasperated tone. "You never told her that you love her..."

Michael shook his head. "No, I haven't..." He said softly, his voice full of pain.

"Why not?"

Michael turned his head away from the angry blue eyes. It was a question he had asked himself many times. He didn't know how to explain it to an innocent young girl who probably thought of love in terms of fairy-tale stories, of Cinderella and her Handsome Prince, of Happily Ever After.

He didn't know how to explain about life in Section One. How any hint that he and Nikita cared for each other could mean the end of everything for them both.

He floundered for the words. "Because it's not.. safe," he told her.

He was supposed to be stamping out the compassion in Nikita, not encouraging it. Not fanning her tenderness for him into the flames of passion....No, he thought, telling her would open the door too wide. All the demons he feared would be able to get out....

"Tell her, Michael." Liesel wanted to slap him, but she settled for shaking him slightly with the hand on his shoulder. "You have to tell her."

"No, I..."

Liesel put her hand under his chin and lifted his face up to look at her. "Look at me, Michael. I know that something scary is happening here that I don't understand. I know you're afraid of losing her. You may already have..."

Michael's eyes widened in shock. What did this uncanny young girl sense that he didn't? Had something happened to Nikita?

"What do you mean?" he gasped out. "What do you mean, I may already have lost her?"

Liesel let a small, wry half-smile play over her lips. "Not every woman you meet is a mind reader, Michael. Nikita needs to hear the words out-loud. To her face. An unequivocal, unmistakeable declaration."

Liesel paused for emphasis. "And she needs to hear it SOON."

Michael looked at her uncertainly, a question still in his eyes. "Now's not a good time..."

Liesel did shake him then, crouching in front of him where he sat in his chair, grabbing him by both shoulders. She brought his face close to hers.

"Michael, listen to me," she said, looking into his unresisting green eyes. "I have a gift of knowing things. Things no one else can know..."

She took a deep breath. "And I'm telling you, if you don't tell Nikita soon, the future you want together with her will never happen...."

"If you don't tell her, she will close off her soul from you, shut off her feelings; she will withdraw so far away, in self-protection..."

Michael flinched at the painful image she drew for him. "No!" he choked out.

"YES, Michael. Yes, she WILL," Liesel went on unrelentingly.

"She'll close off that part of her heart that belongs to you, and it will die. And no matter how much you tell her later, no matter what you do after that happens, it won't make any difference...."

"Nikita will never be able to open up and love you again, because you would have killed that love with your indifference..." Liesel finished.

Michael nodded. "All right," he sighed. She could feel the tenseness in his shoulders relax, and he took another deep breath. Putting one of his hands on hers, he looked into her eyes again.

Michael realized he trusted this young girl. And perhaps he trusted the intuition inside him he had denied to himself for so long --- the little voice in his head that had been crying out to him for months in the same tone and with the same words as Liesel did now--

[Tell her. Go to her. Now. Before it's too late..] The little voice warned him. It begged him...

"I believe you," Michael said, his voice soft but his decision firm. "I'll talk to Nikita as soon as I can."

He paused for a moment, his voice becoming softer still. "Liesel, thank you..."

She smiled and sat in her chair again. "It's O.K. Maybe I can help you with your other problem..."

She knew there was something else bothering him. He had been upset about something else before they started talking about Nikita. Something to do with her and her father....

Their backs to the door, both Michael and Liesel jerked in shock as they heard it open behind them, followed by the words from a warm throaty voice.

Still holding hands, they turned to look at the intruder.

"Yes, I believe you can help us," said Madeleine.

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

"Madeleine!" said Michael in alarm.

He jumped up from his chair and stood protectively in front of Liesel, who shrank back a little in her chair, eyeing Madeleine warily.

He wasn't sure exactly how much of their conversation Madeleine had overheard, but he was sure it was obvious to her that he had not been following Operations' scenario for Liesel's interrogation.

Michael had not been "breaking" the young psychic as ordered. In fact, as with Madeliene earlier, it had almost been the other way around. His heart sank, wondering uncertainly what punishment would be meted out this time, and what price Liesel would pay for helping him.

Madeleine gave them both a small smile and then turned to speak to the guards who still waited outside the office door. She ushered them inside the office.

"Take the girl," she ordered.

"No! Not there! Please!" Liesel, frightened, cringed back from the men, not wanting to go back to the white room again.

Madeleine smiled again and knelt in front of Liesel's chair. "It's O.K.," she soothed. "I'm sorry about how you were treated before. You're not going back there..."

Madeleine straightened, and looked at the guards, who stood flanking Liesel's chair, waiting for orders. Michael had moved aside for them, but only marginally. He still hovered protectively near the young girl.

"Take her to my office," Madeleine told the men. "See that she's comfortable. Give her something to eat. I'll be there shortly..."

Liesel still looked uncertain, but stood up when the men approached closer, accepting the situation stoically. Her composure disintegrated, however, when one of the guards pulled out the black hood from his pocket.

"No, please!" she cried, eyes widening in fear as she flinched back from them.

Madeleine walked back to Liesel again and patted her consolingly on the arm. "Shhh, the hood is for your own protection. No one's going to hurt you..."

Madeleine's voice lowered further, becoming even more soft and soothing. "I want you to wait for me in my office until I can have a little talk with Michael...."

Michael stiffened and clenched his jaw. He wasn't looking forward to this "little talk."

"I know you are a person who likes to help people, Liesel, and Michael and I will discuss how you can best do that for us..." continued Madeleine.

Liesel looked up at her in amazement. "You'll let me help people?" she asked hopefully.

Madeleine nodded, still smiling. "Yes. That's all I want you to do," she reassured the girl.

Michael noted with amazement of his own that the perceptive Liesel seemed to trust Madeleine's promise. Liesel wasn't the only one with the power to charm and mezmerize, he thought.

"All right," the girl aquiesced, and went quietly to the door with the guards. She turned back to give Michael a shy smile.

"See you later," she said to him.

She accepted it unresistingly when one of the guards pulled the hood over her head and they led her through the door and down the hallway.

Madeleine closed the door firmly behind them and turned to look at Michael. She crossed her arms across her chest and took a business-like stance in front of him.

Michael noted with dismay that her smile and her aura of charm were nowhere to be seen.

"Well, Michael," she said sternly. "Now let's have our little talk."

***********

Madeleine fixed Michael with a stony glare. He returned it with the patented blank stare of his own. He armored himself by slipping his usual impassive mask back into place. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes and body revealing nothing.

"You've had time to get to know Liesel," Madeliene began. "You've been with her long enough to form an opinion..."

"Yes," said Michael tonelessly.

"I'd like to hear your impression of her," Madeleine requested. "And your recommmendations as to how to proceed..."

Michael stared silently at her, composing his thoughts. Behind the guileless green eyes, his mind was working furiously.

"Well?" She said impatiently into the pause.

Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully, took a deep breath, and plunged on. "I think it would be a mistake to dispose of her after we get the intel we want..."

"Oh?" said Madeleine non-committally.

"Yes," Michael continued. "Her instincts, her insights, her gifts--- whatever you wish to call them, are considerable ...."

His eyes flickered over Madeleine, and then down to the floor. He lowered his soft voice further. "Today, she... ferreted out the deepest secrets of both of us..."

"Go on," Madeleine whispered.

"You know what we are, how we are trained." Michael met her eyes again. "And neither of us could keep anything from her.."

Madeleine sighed and nodded imperceptably, unable to deny the truth of his statement.

"She would be an invaluable help to you, Madeleine," Michael said, then paused.

"Please don't kill her," he pleaded.

"Mmmmm, you have a point," she said, rubbing her forehead. "But there are some ... obstacles to that..."

She fixed Michael with the stony gaze again. "How do you think we should handle them?"

"There are ways around dealing with her father...."

"Such as?"

"I believe Liesel would be very distressed, perhaps to the point of non-functioning, if we asked her to give up her father.." Michael began.

"Obviously," Madeleine snorted. "What do you propose we do about him?"

"Don't bring him in..." Michael answered.

"What?" demanded Madeleine. "What do you mean?"

"Bringing him in won't be necessary. Werner Bruehaf appears to rely on his daughter for guidance in all his decisions," Michael explained quickly. "She's the real genius behind his success."

"Ask Liesel for the names of his cronies and contacts," he went on. "She has no loyalty to them; she won't give you much protest.."

"And then?"

Michael dared a small smile. "Then sit back and watch Bruehaf's empire crumble. Without his friends and without Liesel, he's nothing. He'll revert to being very small-time...."

"Hmmm," said Madeleine, nodding approvingly. "I like it. And we can use her father as leverage against her in the future, if we ever need to."

She smiled. "Let's do it."

Michael allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of relief that flooded over him at the thought of Liesel's continued existence. Her life with Section surely could not be any more limited and cruel than the one she now led with her father. And Michael thought the caring young girl deserved to have some kind of life.

He sobered quickly, however, his happiness dissipating at the thought of another obstacle to Liesel's chances for survival.

"What about Operations?" he asked tensely.

To his surprise, Madeleine simply smiled again. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about him," she said serenely. "I'll take care of it."

"All right," acknowledged Michael, still relieved. "Is that all?" he asked hopefully.

"Not quite," said Madeleine, regarding him thoughtfully. She walked up to him and placed her palm against his cheek, fixing his green eyes with her brown.

A shiver of apprehension went through him.

"We need to talk about you and Nikita, don't we?" said Madeleine sweetly.

***********

Michael gulped nervously. "What about Nikita?" he asked in trepidation.

He tried to keep his face calm but he was sure Madeleine could feel his pulse racing where her fingers rested on his neck.

Madeleine said nothing, merely smiled again. Michael found it unnerving.

She stepped back from him and reached into the pocket of her suit jacket, removing a small PDA from its depths. She held the device out to him.

"What's that?" asked Michael, not taking it from her.

Still silently smiling, she raised the device to his eye-level, the screen facing him. She pushed a button and a small video came to life in front of him, showing images from his office made only minutes before.

"Ye, I love her," he heard his own voice saying from the screen."I always have..."

Madeleine punched another button and the images stopped. She tossed the PDA on the desk where it clattered harshly in the tense silence.

"Well, Michael?" She challenged him. "Nothing to say?"

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to give her another blank stare. "No," he answered quietly.

"Really?" Madeleine responded, another smile, this one a tremulous one, quirking at her lips. If Michael didn't know better, he would have thought she was trying not to cry.

"Well, I have a few things to say to you." She walked the few steps to the window and turned her back to him, facing the view of the gray, deserted corridor outside Michael's office.

"Relationships in Section are problematic at best," she began, the unfamiliar huskiness of unshed tears still in her voice. "Relationships between operatives are particularly difficult, and not condoned.."

"I know," said Michael softly, rubbing his chin in agitation as the fearful thoughts whirled in his head.

What would Section do to them? Would they be cancelled? Would Nikita be taken away from him again? He didn't know if he could bear the thought of losing her again.

He realized he would prefer it if they would just kill them both. He couldn't endure the pain of being without her....

Madeleine turned to face him again. "This is Section policy, as you know."

Michael felt his throat closing up, felt his lungs fight for air. "Yes, I know," he choked out.

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, her expression and her voice sympathetic. It occurred to Michael that she would regret having them killed...

"But it's not MY policy," she said gently.

Michael looked at her, puzzled. His eyes widened in an unspoken question.

"I think sometimes a bond between agents isn't always a bad thing," she went on. "Sometimes operatives function more... efficiently if they are allowed to function as a team, to work in pairs..."

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. "It's too late for me," she whispered. "The bonds I... we.... my partner and I.... had were twisted and broken long ago.."

Madeleine choked out the last words and fell silent, except for her shuddering breathing. Something wet appeared on her cheeks.

Michael stood still, shocked to realize she was weeping. "Madeleine?" he said, tentatively reaching out a hand to her.

She smiled wryly again, amused at his stunned expression.

"It's too late for me. But it's not too late for you, Michael," she said softly. "For you and Nikita..."

Michael shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. "I don't understand," he whispered. "What are you saying?"

Smiling, she walked toward him again and picked up the PDA from the desk and pressed it into his hand.

"I'm saying that this is the only copy of surveillance on your office this afternoon, and it should be erased as soon as possible...."

He took the device numbly from her and blinked in surprise, too shocked to say anything.

"I'm saying," she went on, "that as of tonight, surveillance on both yours and Nikita's apartments will be discontinued..."

"Quoi?" he gasped.

Madeleine beamed at him. "My advice to you, Michael, is to do what Liesel recommended...."

She brushed her hand against his cheek, and gazed tenderly into the wide green eyes. "Tell Nikita you love her...."

Her voice fell to a whisper, but her smile still held the same strength. "Don't make the same mistakes I did.... Please...."

Michael finally found his voice. "Merci," he said hoarsely. "Mon Dieu, mn Dieu... mille Merci, Madeleine..."

She let her tears fall, and felt an answering wetness on her hand as she gave his cheek a final caress before turning to leave, closing the door softly behind her.

************\

"More coffee, My Dear?"

Madeleine held out the delicate china cup to her companion. "Please," she agreed, smiling.

Operations poured the fragrant brew for her from the silver pot and then placed it back on the tray on the coffee table. He sighed contentedly and leaned back against the couch cushions.

It had been a long time since she had invited him to her apartment for dinner. So far the evening had gone well.

They had shared an exceptionally delicious meal that had been prepared and served by her unobtrusive and efficient staff of servants, who had all discreetly dissappeared to their own homes once the coffee had been served.

Now Operations sat comfortably full and relaxed on the couch next to Madeleine. And, he noted happily, she, too, seemed in an exceptionally good mood. It surprised him a little, after what she had been through that morning with the Bruehaf girl.

"You seem recovered," he commented, smiling at her.

"Recovered?" she asked, puzzled.

"From this morning. That little psychic fraud putting on her act..."

His voice rose a little, his anger returning. The idea of anyone messing with Madeleine was intolerable to him.

The fact that it was even possible for someone, especially someone as innocuous-seeming as the young Liesel, to disturb Madeleine was an incredibly frightening one.

And fear was not an emotion Operations was comfortable dealing with. He had done what he usually did when something frightened him- attacked first.

Remembering that he had sicced Michael on the perpertrator in question, Operations let himself relax.

"But I suppose Michael took care of her satisfactorily for you?" He asked, smirking.

"Oh, yes," Madeleine said, smiling back. "Very satisfactorily."

"Good," he replied. "Has she been disposed of?" He reached for his cigarettes in his pocket and lit up, puffing complacently.

Her smile faded slightly. Madeleine knew she would have to be very careful in her answer.

"Actually, no," she replied.

Operations almost choked on the last drag of smoke he had just inhaled. "What?" he demanded. "Why not?"

His relaxed demeanor was gone. Every muscle in his body tensed as he looked at Madeleine.

"Don't tell me you haven't brought Werner in yet?" he said, glaring at her.

Madeleine stayed serene. "No, we haven't done that either," she answered, calmly taking another sip of her coffee. "And I don't plan on doing so any time soon."

Operations' eyes widened in shock. He wondered for a moment what kind of hocus-pocus magic spell that spooky little witch had put on Madeleine to get her to spare her from the total annihilation that was the inevitable fate of the enemies of Section One.

Then he remembered he didn't believe in magic.

"Explain," he barked, anger covering his disquiet. "Explain to me why they aren't both dead."

Madeleine laughed and a gave him a delightfully devious smile. "Darling, you should know very well that sometimes death is too easy..."

She put down her coffee cup and turned to him, caressing the outline of one of his ears with a light but sensuous touch. "I have more protracted punishments in mind for them...."

Operations smiled, relaxing again. Revenge was something he understood, having indulged in its pleasures over and over. It was one of the sweet things in his life, Section One providing ample opportunity for his enjoyment of it in the form of luckless targets and hapless operatives as well.

His eyes lit up. "Tell me what you have planned," he said in mirthful anticipation.

Madeleine nestled herself in the hollow of his shoulder, settling comfortably aginst his chest, her head under his chin. She sighed contentedly.

"Well," she told him, "Liesel will have the threat of her father's death hanging over her head if she doesn't co-operate...."

She felt him tense again under her. "Co-operate HOW?" he demanded.

Madleine snuggled closer. "You saw how she was. Her trance act is very effective. I think it will be of use to us to have her participate in some interrogations..."

She smiled again. "Her seeming abilities can be very.... shall we say, disconcerting?"

Operations nodded slightly. He certainly agreed. Seeing Liesel's effect on Madeleine had definitely disconcerted him that morning. But he still had reservations.

"Yes, but how is letting her live and work for us a punishment for her?" he asked, concerned about there being sufficient revenge for Liesel's disquieting actions.

"Oh, but it is," Madeleine assured him. "Michael forced her to talk about her methods and found out that her little....performances are very draining for her.."

She lifted her head and kissed Operations on the cheek. "Excrutiating, in fact," she said in a happy tone. "She despises doing it..."

"Ahhh, I see...." he said, finally understanding. He smiled and let himself relax, suddenly realizing that the woman he had been pursuing for months was here, in his arms, and that they were entirely alone and free to renew what they once had.

He lifted her chin with his hand and leaned his face close toward hers. "Let's not talk shop anymore tonight, hmmm?" he said, his voice roughened with desire. He kissed her.

"Mmmmm," she said after a moment, her lips still close to his. "Let's not talk at all...."

She reached for him, pulling him down on top of her on the couch.

Operations groaned, and nuzzled her neck. His hands began to roam over her, carefully pleasuring the sensitive areas the way she liked, arousing the body he knew so well.

Madeleine remembered what pleased him, too, and the way he liked to be touched. Expertly, efficiently, she began to arouse him as well.

Their careful, methodical love-making went on, reaching its inevitable conclusion. As Operations lay sated in her arms, resting after his exertions, Madeleine looked, dry-eyed, at the ceiling.

At a time like this she should be feeling some emotional closeness. She should be feeling happy. At peace. Physically satisfied, at least. But she felt nothing. She was dead inside.

She recalled Liesel's words to Michael that afternoon, her warning that if the love between him and Nikita was not nourished soon, it would wither and die, never to flower again.

Those words had struck Madeleine like hammer blows, shaking her to the core. She knew Liesel's words were true, because it had happened to her.

She had experienced the death of her love, the shattering of her heart, the delicate flower crushed under the hard boot of their life in Section One.

The flower was still there, in form only. She still had an outward relationship with her beloved, but it was an illusion. No heart beat inside it, no warmth flowed through its veins, no life animated it.

The flower of their love was as dry and lifeless as a rose pressed between the pages of a book. It lived in her memory only, having lost its life and fragrance long ago.

It was too late for the rose to ever bloom again. For her. But perhaps it was not too late for Michael and Nikita. She prayed that their love would have a chance...

The small hope of that possibility was the only thing that kept her from crying out in despair as Operations stirred and began kissing her again.

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

Michael unlocked the door to apartment 411 and held the door wide. "Here it is," he told Liesel. "I hope you like it."

Cautiously, she walked past him to stand in the middle of the spacious living room. Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains at the windows, reflecting off the hardwood floor and the gleaming counter-top in the kitchen.

Comfortable, plump couches in cozy chintz faced each other on either side of a large coffee table. A huge, deep arm-chair sat coveniently between a tall book-case and a large-screen t.v.

Across the living room Liesel could see that a small half-flight of stairs led up to the bedroom. She crossed the length of the room to stand at the French doors that opened onto a small terrace with a beautiful view of the city.

A smile of amazed delight spread over her face. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

She turned and rushed toward him, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you, Michael," she said, hugging him tightly.

Michael, startled, carefully hugged her back and then held her away from him at arm's length. His voice took on what he hoped was a stern, fatherly tone.

"Let's go over the rules," he said.

"Oh, all right," she said sighing, but still retaining her ear-to -ear smile.

"Madeleine will call you if she needs your assistance. You'll be able to do most of your work over the phone. If you need to come in to Section, a car will be sent for you."

Liesel nodded. "Got it," she said agreeably. She would much rather be here in this pretty space than in that horrible white room.

"Meanwhile, you will attend school...."

Liesel groaned.

Michael smiled slightly. "You will attend school," he continued, "where you will take a variety of subjects, including driving classes.."

Her eyes widened. "Driving classes?"

Micheal took her by the arm and led her to the window in the breakfast area that had a view to a small parking lot. "You see that red Mercedes there?" he asked, pointing.

"Yes, I see it. What about it?" Liesel asked.

Michael smiled broadly. "It's yours. When you get your license."

"Oh, Michael!" Liesel squealed, and hugged him again.

Michael felt the need to be stern again. "You will keep the door locked. You will behave in a lady-like fashion. No loud music. No parties. Don't talk to strangers..."

He stopped. He knew the world to be a scary place, and she seemed to him, despite her gifts, to be a small defenceless child who needed his protection.

Liesel almost laughed at the awkward way Michael was displaying his concern for her. And she was touched by the tender caring she felt emanating from him.

"I'll be fine, Michael," she said softly. "Really."

He looked at her a long moment then handed the keys over to her, along with a business card.

"This has all my numbers on it where I can be reached," he told her."I want you to call me if you need anything."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Call me anytime, about anything at all, understand?" Serious green eyes met her lively blue ones.

"Yes, Michael. I understand," she said smiling.

He nodded again and went to the door. Before he left, he turned and spoke awkwardly to her again.

"Uh, there's a present for you upstairs," he told her almost shyly. "I hope you like it...."

"I'll like it," she assured him, cocking her head and listening to the music no one else could hear.

"How do you know?" he said. "You haven't seen it yet..."

She grinned. "I just know."

Before he could leave she ran to him where he stood in the open doorway and turned him by the shoulders so he faced the apartment across the hall.

Number 412.

"You haven't told her yet, have you, Michael?" she whispered, standing behind him.

"No," he said softly.

There had been no time. And he was loath to admit it to himself, but he was a little afraid. What if it was too late? What if Nikita had already closed her heart to him?

"It's not too late, Michael," she told him confidently. "Your timing is perfect. She's home now, and she will want to see you. Want to hear what you have to say..."

He looked at her, eyes searching her face. She was so young, so wise...

"You think she will?" he asked tensely.

"I KNOW it," Liesel answered, nodding sagely.

She gave him an impatient push out the door. "Go!" she shooed him. "Go on! Go..."

He smiled nervously at her and walked across the hallway. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked timidly on Nikita's door.

Liesel shut her apartment door all the way, then opened it just a crack, and watched as Nikita answered Michael's knock.

Blonde hair done up in pigtails appeared around the door, above a pair of blue eyes that were round in surprise.

"Michael!" Nikita exclaimed. "What brings you here?"

"I.. I need to talk to you about.. about some things..." he stammered, fear closing up his throat.

"Things?" she asked, puzzled.

He swallowed hard. "About my feelings for you," he managed to gasp out.

Nikita was silent, staring at him with a stunned expression on her face for a full minute, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Michael's heart sank. She didn't want to talk to him, he thought in despair.

He was about to leave when Nikita roused from her trance and her face broke into a huge smile.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled Michael into the apartment. "Yes, come in," Liesel heard her say breathlessly. "Come in and we'll talk about it..."

With great satisfaction, Liesel watched as Michael let Nikita lead him unresisting further into the apartment and closed the door.

Liesel shut her own door firmly and locked it, as Michael had instructed. Then she let herself indulge in a fit of giggles.

[Ohhhh, it's sooo romantic] she thought to herself. [Just like a fairy story]

Suddenly she felt the urge to find out what Michael's surprise was that he had left for her.

Still giggling, she ran up the stairs and entered the bedroom. In a corner of the room she saw it. Set up on a table was a glorious edifice of mock stone, a delightful miniature doll-house in the shape of a castle, complete with turrets and a moat.

"Oh, it's beautiful..." she breathed in delight.

There had been plenty of money in her life with her father, and he had provided for her, but it had never occured to him to get her something like this. Something so totally magic, something so fresh and... innocent...

Liesel knelt on the floor and put her face close to the captivating structure, taking in the details. Reverently, she pulled open the tiny castle door to look inside...

She squealed again in delight when she saw the dolls. Standing amidst the perfectly appointed Great Hall of the castle were the Fairy-Tale Princess and her Handsome Prince.

Liesel picked up the dolls for a closer look, removing them from their home to sit them on her lap. The Princess had on a lovely white gown and a crown which adorned flowing blonde hair to her waist. She was exquisite.

The Prince was as impressive as she, resplendant in black courtier's velvet adorned with gold. He wore a crown, too, topping shoulder-length dark hair.

Instinctively, listening to the music in the air and sensing the currents in play, Lisel settled on the floor to play with the dolls.

The Prince knelt before the beautiful Princess, looking adoringly up at her with his painted eyes.

"Je t'adore, mon Coeur," declared the Prince, Liesel saying the words for him.

"And I you," whispered the Princess in Liesel's voice. "My Beloved."

Liesel sighed and placed the dolls side by side within the castle walls again, making sure their lips touched in a devoted doll kiss.

Then she softly closed the bedroom door on the royal couple and left them discreetly alone, and returned to the living room.

But even then she could still hear the invisible music of hearts singing.

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