Madeleine looked up from her desk as the door to her office slid smoothly open. A small smile played over her lips when she saw the dark-haired young man standing timidly in the doorway.

"Come in, Brian," she invited warmly, her smile widening.

Dr. Brian Whicker, a tall young man in the surgeon's greens took another cautious step forward, eyeing her warily. He had been working in Medlab, seeing patients when she had called him in. He hoped never to have to meet with her again after last time.

He was already disconcerted by being in her office again; her friendly smile unnerved him further.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked tensely, and went to stand at the bottom of the two steps that led up to the door. At his movement, it slid closed silently behind him.

He turned to look at its blank, solid metal surface. No handle. No way out. He was trapped.

Shit, he thought. I don't want to be here again. Not again.

"Please, come and sit down," she said pleasantly.

Brian was not fooled by her friendly tone- he knew from experience that her words were not an invitation, but an order, however politely veiled.

Swallowing nervously, he did as he was told and sat in the chair she had indicated in front of her desk.

"How have you been?" Madeleine asked in a casual, conversational tone.

Brian looked down at the floor, and then raised his eyes to meet hers, anger flaring. If she was going to bring him in for some unpleasant Section purpose, he wished she would just come out with it. He was apprehensive enough without having to put up with her games of pretence.

The mulishly stubborn look that everyone that knew him was familiar with was back on his face. He stared at her in silence for a moment before speaking in an angry tone.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want so I can get out of here?"

Madeleine smiled, seemingly unoffended by his outburst.

"Very well," she continued serenely, "What I want from you is the answer to a question."

Brian let out a sigh. More games, he thought. "And what question is that?" he asked wearily.

Madeleine leaned toward him, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Would you enjoy... performing on another mission again?"

Brian stiffened in shock at her deliberately chosen word- perform.

It had been three months since he had been locked in a room with two operatives, Michael and Nikita, and told to have sex with them while Bauer, a green-listed terrorist, watched. It was Bauer's price for giving Section some vital intel they needed.

Brian, repulsed by the idea, had initially refused vehemently, until Madeleine had let him know that he would not be the only one punished for refusing. Madeleine had cooly held a gun on Nikita and told him she would die if Brian did not co-operate.

He'd had no choice after that. He did what they asked.

But he didn't have to now. He rose abruptly from his chair and stood glaring at Madeleine for a moment, fists clenched at his sides.

"To answer your question," he said through clenched teeth, "NO, I would NOT."

He stalked to the door, mounting the steps to the exit, and came up short with his face inches from the hard, smooth surface. The door had not opened for him. He bowed his head, shoulders heaving in a frustrated sigh, and turned back to look at his captor, eyes wide and wary.

"That's very interesting," commented Madeleine, still unperturbed by his anger. She smiled brightly. "You seemed to really enjoy it the last time...."

She pressed a button on her keyboard and swiveled the monitor on her desk to face him. A video began playing on the screen, complete with sound.

"Oh... Oh, God, yes...yes...." Brian heard himself moan on the tape.

He closed his eyes sharply to cut off the sight of the three bodies entangled together on the bed, but he could still hear the sounds of their fervent love-making, words punctuated with incoherent cries of pleasure...

"Do it, please..."

"Come here.... touch me..."

"I want to see you use that mouth...."

"Ohh, Jesus ...... so beautiful...."

"Ah... Oui.... Oui...."

And despite his eyes being closed, Brian could still see the image of Michael's face as he had looked up from the bed where he lay entwined with Nikita, and pleaded for Brian to join them...

"f--- me," Michael's voice begged on the tape. "Please..."

Brian heaved a sigh of distress. "That's enough!" he pleaded. "Please..."

Madeleine nodded and hit another button. The screen went blank, the voices silent.

"Sit down," Madeleine told him again, not unsympathetically.

Brian slumped heavily in the chair, distraught. He had been sorting out his feelings about the incident, mulling over in his mind just what it meant to him, in the long weeks since it had occured.

He had finally come to a realization, an emotional truth.

He was in love with Michael.

Brian, though bi-sexual, had never been promiscuous. Had never gone into any physical encounter casually. He had had only a handful of relationships, and those few had all been serious and committed ones on Brian's part.

When he loved, he loved heart and soul. The coupling with Michael had been more than physical for him. His tender feelings, his caring emotions had been engaged by the extraordinary duress of their situation, and he had as yet been unable to disentangle the two things- his physical desire for the other man and his emotional bond to him.

Not that Michael knew. Or cared. They had parted on friendly terms the last time they had seen each other over two month ago. Brian knew Michael thought of him with no animosity, if he thought of him at all.

It was plain that Michael loved only Nikita, and if relationships were possible in Section, that's who he would be with now.

Brian put his hand over his eyes and rubbed his forehead. It was miserable, loving someone who didn't love you. He carried that misery with him all the time, feeling foolish, cursing himself...

He didn't need it thrown in his face now by Madeleine.

"What do you WANT?" he demanded in desperation.

Madeleine sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers, regarding him thoughtfully.

"There's a mission that requires... incredibly delicate handling. There is a very specific profile we have as yet been unable to fill with Section personnel to date. You and Michael, so far, are the only two people who would be suitable to be sent in."

Brian stared at her silently, stunned.

Madeliene went on. "This mission requires both of you to go undercover. To play a part...."

Brian flinched. That's what they had called it the last time. A performance. A role..

"Needless to say, you must be believable in this role for things to work. That's why we chose you..."

"What role?" Brian gasped out, finding his voice. "Why me?"

Madeleine smiled. "You and Michael will be going to an exclusive resort in the Florida Keys. Together..."

Brian's eyes widened. "Why?" he said again, bewildered.

Madeleine tilted her head and told him the rest.

"Because we think you'll be convincing as two people in love," she said merrily.

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

"In .. in love?" Brian stammered, gulping.

Did Madeleine know somehow? Did she know of his conflicted feelings about Michael? Wanting to love him but knowing it was impossible, knowing Michael did not feel the same way....

"Yes," Madeleine went on. "Our target is a man named Carlos Alonzo. He is an arms dealer and information broker with a very high sense of self-preservation."

Madeline sighed. "His security precautions are at a level so sophisticated and impenetrable that we have never been able to breach them."

"But you think you can now?" said Brian, puzzled. "With Michael and me? How?"

" We found a weakness. Alonzo is openly gay. We think he will feel more comfortable having business dealings with people of his own ..... persuasion, shall we say?" Madeleine smiled.

Brian flushed bright red, and looked at her warily. "You want Michael to .. seduce him? You want ME to do it, is that it?"

Anxiety mounting, he shifted nervously in his chair, waiting for her answer.

She gave him a relaxed, warm smile and a little laugh. "No, Doctor. Not at all. Nothing like that."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Brian's tension did not abate despite her assurances.

"Alonzo is throwing a party next weekend for some of his friends and associates. If you and Michael can infiltrate into this group, gain his trust, we'll have our way in."

Brian was silent, digesting this news.

Madeleine went on in a soothing tone. "It will be nothing like the last assignment we gave you. Nothing will be demanded of you other convincing Alonzo you and Michael are in a relationship..."

She laughed again. "No sex will be required, unless you both care to..."

Brian paled, and clenched his fists where they rested on the chair arms. "What, then?" he whispered.

"Just hold hands, possibly kiss a little. Give each other... hot looks. Use endearments. Pretend..." she paused to look at him again, knowingly, "... pretend to be in love."

She tilted her head. "Do you think you can do that?"

Brian looked down at the floor. If he did go on this mission, there would be no pretence on his part. He realized suddenly he wanted to do this. To spend time, intimate, private time, with the man he loved.

But how hard would it be, to be so close to Michael, knowing that, to him, it meant nothing?

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "What does Michael think about it?"

His blue eyes looked up pleadingly into hers. He almost did not want to hear the words he expected, the words that would make it oficial. That Michael was just doing a job, and would tolerate Brian's presence because he had to, nothing more.

"No need to worry about Michael," she returned. "Who do think it was that came up with the mission profile in the first place?"

She went on, her tone amused. She told him what she knew would hook him, what she knew would bring his instant co-operation and compliance.

It was just like the last time when she held the gun to Nikita's head- Madeleine knew just what methods to use to persuade the compassionate young doctor. Only this time she was using the carrot instead of the stick.

A very sweet, very tempting carrot.

"Michael asked for you," she told him. "He said you are the only person he would even consider for this mission....

"As you know, Michael is very careful about who he allows to become-- emotionally or physically close to him."

She smiled, baiting the hook. "And you are one of those few people..."

Brian swallowed the bait, gratefully, joyously. He was so entranced with the flavor of it, that he did not even feel the hook catching in his throat, piercing deep..... That is, not until much later.

"All right," he agreed smiling. "I'll go."

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

Brian removed his sunglasses and stood blinking in the glare of the bright Florida sun. He let his mouth fall open in shock.

"Holy Sh*t!" he gasped. He had never seen anything like this.

He turned his gaze to the two men who stood beside him, still gaping numbly.

Michael said nothing, just gave Brian an enigmatic smile. The other man with them was more responsive.

"Oh, yes, indeed! The pool area is quite impressive, is it not?" the man said, laughing in delight.

He was the concierge for the small, exclusive resort where they were staying in Key West. He was a small, compactly muscled man, tanned from the sun, with dark, wavy hair cut short, and merry gray eyes. His name was Greg Wilson.

Michael, looking relaxed and comfortable in shorts and polo shirt, gave Wilson a knowing glance.

"I told you," he said drolly, "My friend here has never been to Key West before."

"Ahh, so I see," said Wilson, laughing again.

Brian blushed and lowered his eyes, embarrassed.

The Conch House Resort was a small, but elegantly perfect hotel built in the 1920's. It had only a few rooms for a small, select number of guests- all men.

The pool area, although only a few yards from the bustle of Duvall Street, was completely private. A tall solid wall surrounded the pool, its surface almost invisible beneath its covering of bougeanvilla vines in bloom, flowers ablaze in hot pinks and purples. Palm trees circled the pool, flanking one perfectly placed Royal Poinciana tree, buds already showing orange.

But it was not the flowers that had shocked Brian, but the people. They were even more colorful and outrageous than any of the profusely wanton blooms surrounding them.

Most were handsome young men in their twenties or thirties. Some were older, bodies no longer perfect, but still impressively attractive. They swam and dove in the pool, or lay on lounge chairs around it, in couples or small groups.

Some of the couples held hands, some kissed, flirting openly. Some of the men were only minimumly attired in skimpy swim briefs in bright colors.

Most were attired in nothing at all.

"The pool area is clothing optional, of course, as you can see," their host Wilson went on. He looked Brian up and down in open appraisal.

"Wear what you want," he told the young man, smiling.

Brian blushed again.

"The bar is open all day, as is the restaurant..." Wilson explained as he led them away from the pool to their room, which opened off of a flower- covered path nearby.

Wilson lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"There's a party at nine this evening- a very private party. But I'm sure I can wangle you an invitation...."

"Thank you," said Michael, slipping him a large wad of bills as he opened the door to their room for them.

Wilson smiled widely, and gave the still wide-eyed Brian a pat on the cheek.

"Your friend is as exactly as you described him," the older man said to Michael. "So very young, so very sweet..."

Michael gripped Wilson by the wrist and firmly removed his hand from Brian's face. Then he put his arm around Brian and pulled him close, making it very clear that Brian was his, and his alone.

"Yes, I know," said Michael. The words weren't menacing, but his tone was.

Wilson backed off, raising his hands in an apologetic gesture.

"I'll just let Mr. Alonzo know you're here,then," he said, giving Brian one last surreptitiously appreciative glance. "He'll be soooo pleased..."

He turned to leave, then addresed Michael. "'Til later, then?"

"Yes, later," responded Michael, and led Brian into the room, shutting the door behind them.

Brian let out a breath and laughed. "That man is a TRIP!" He said, stepping further into the room and looking around, noting that their suitcases were already there just inside the door.

The room was comfortably large and spacious, an uninhibited and unlikely combination of casual and formal pieces that somehow worked together beautifully. Antique furniture melded with wicker and rattan, all adorned with fabrics in wild island prints.

There was only one bed.

Michael tossed the keys on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. He bent to remove his sandals and then straightened, next pulling off his shirt.

He gave Brian an impatient glance. "Well, c'mon, let's go."

"What?" squeaked Brian, staring at him.

"Let's go, said Michael. "Take off your clothes."

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

Michael stood up and undid the button on the waistband of his shorts, pulling down the zipper. He was all business.

"We're going out by the pool, Michael told him. "Our contact should be there soon, if he isn't there already."

He pulled off the shorts with one swift movement and tossed them with his shirt on the bed. He straightened, standing totally naked in front of Brian.

"Jesus...." the doctor gulped, and looked away. He had seen Michael naked before, in Medlab as well in the enforced encounter in the white room while they had been watched by eyes as well as cameras. But this was different.

He had never had Michael naked before him in the privacy and intimacy of a shared bedroom...

Michael gave him a slight smile. Nudity was nudity; he had long ago ceased to be embarrassed by it.

"No need to be nervous," he reassured the younger man. "The worst they'll do is flirt with you. Just stay close to me.."

Michael strode toward the bathroom, grabbed two large towels, and walked back out. The green eyes fixed on Brian's blue ones were unreadable; he was totally focused, in mission mode.

"We're supposed to be a couple, so don't flirt back too much." He smiled. "Act like you're infatuated with me..."

Brian blushed. "Yeah, no problem.." Michael had no idea just how easy that would be, he thought.

"Well?" siad Michael impatiently. "Take it off."

Brian nodded and pulled off his short-sleeved shirt, revealing a broad muscled chest with a light covering of soft, dark hair. From his chest the hair trailed downwards in a narrow line and dissapeared into the waistband of his slacks.

Looking behind him, Brian reached for his suitcase and pulled it toward him.

"What are doing?" said Michael.

Brian looked up. "Just getting my swim trunks...."

"Don't bother," Michael ordered. "Just take off your pants and come out with me," he said, one hand already on the door handle.

"Uh.. right." Brian took a deep breath and removed the rest of his clothes, then straightened, standing naked in front of Michael. He resisted the urge to cover himself. Instead, he crossed his arms nervously across his chest.

Michael tossed him one of the towels and then turned and pulled the door open. "C'mon. Let's go," he said again.

Brian caught the towel, grateful to have some cover, and followed Michael out the door.

Holy Sh*t, Brian thought again, as Michael gave him a sudden, brilliant smile and put his arm around his waist.

"C'mon, My Love," Michael said in a husky voice, and kissed him. Smoky green eyes looked into his.

"Relax. We're on vacation...."

Brian closed his eyes. God help me, he thought, and kissed him back.

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

Brian found it easier to relax than he thought it would be. After two dauquiris, heavy on the rum, and a few dips in the pool, Brian lay down on the chaise lounge next to Michael's and closed his eyes.

This time the towel was under him and not on his lap. Michael reached out to him and held his hand again. Brian squeezed the fingers back and turned his head to look into the green eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" Michael asked, smiling.

Brian smiled back. "Yeah, thanks.."

"I told you you'd get used to it."

Michael was right. It hadn't been as bad as he thought. The setting was beautiful, the sun warm, and the water cool and inviting. Brian enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers and the feel of the light breeze across his bare skin.

And he enjoyed having Michael, lazy and relaxed, beside him.

The other guests had hardly looked up when he and Michael had first entered the pool area. No one had said anything to make him feel uncomfortable. No one had stared at him.

The most they had done was start a friendly conversation. Michael and Brian had exchanged greetings with several of the other 'couples', and the usual information was offered, the conversation astonishly ordinary.

Where are you from? How do you like the Keys? How long are you here for? Have you been diving yet? The weather and sight-seeing tips made up the bulk of the conversations.

Now drowsing in his chair next to Michael, Brian jerked awake as two men ran past them to jump in the pool, making a loud splash. They came up together from the water, bodies glistening wet, mouths meeting in a kiss. The men broke apart, laughing. One of them swam off to start doing laps in the pool.

The other man caught Brian's surprised expression and swam over to the side of the pool.

"Hi, I'm Tony," he said, stretching out a wet hand to Brian.

Brian sat up from his chaise and clasped the hand in his. "Hi, I'm Brian," he said shyly.

Michael reached to shake hands as well. "Michael," he said, nodding.

Tony folded his arms on the pool edge and turned back to Brian. "First time in Key West?"

"Uh, yeah.."

Tony laughed. "I could tell." He leaned toward him, brown eyes twinkling. "You love it, right?"

Brian lowered his eyes shyly. "It's different from what I'm used to."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, I bet. I bet what you're used to is being buried deep in the closet. Having to pretend all the time that you're just friends, just roomates, right? Having to hide how you really feel..."

Brian looked at Michael and then suddenly glanced away. Tony's words were hitting close to home.

"Yeah, pretty much like that," he answered.

Tony put his hands on the side of the pool and hauled himself out of the water. He rested one bare hip on the pool ledge while letting his legs dangle in the water.

"Here it's different," he said thoughtfully. "It's an island, you know?"

He smiled and went on. "Here you can walk down the street and hold hands in broad daylight, just like any straight couple, and no one thinks anything of it. Here you can relax, be free."

Michael and Brian were both listening intently. Tony looked mischieviously from one to the other, then laughed.

"Come on OUT, Brian!" he yelled. "The water's fine!" And with a resounding splash he jumped back into the pool.

Brian leaned back on the chaise and sighed. "Out. Yeah. What a concept."

Micahel turned his head to look at him, green eyes thoughtful. "So, you and John- you were in the closet?"

Brian's eyes widened a the mention of his former lover. His life partner, his true love. His beloved, until cancer had taken him from him.

"Uh.. yeah. No one knew." Brian looked away, eyes unseeing. "But not because I wanted it that way..."

He went on, his voice soft as he remembered the past. "I wanted to marry him, to have a ceremony. I wanted everyone to know how much I loved him..."

Michael took a sip of his drink. "But John didn't want to?"

Brian sighed. "He loved me the same, it wasn't that. He just couldn't bring himself to be open about it after... after what happened."

Brian's mouth tigtened in a grim line. "And I didn't blame him..."

"After what happened?" asked Mchael softly.

Brian ran a hand over his face, feeling suddenly cold in the warm sun. "When I met John, I was in Med School. He was my patient. He was in the hospital for a very long time..."

Brian stared at Michael. "He had been nearly beaten to death by a gang of local boys who didn't like the fact that he was gay."

Sighing, he turned his head and noted that Tony and several others around them were looking at him. They had all been listening raptly.

Brian lowered his eyes, flustered.

He felt Michael's hand in his. "I'm sorry," said the soft French-accented voice.

Tony reached up from the pool and slapped Brian on the leg. "It's O.K., Kid. We understand.."

Tony grinned, deciding to break the tension. "It explains why you're so uptight and shy..."

He paused dramatically. "But we'll fix that..."

"Yeah, we'll fix that," agreed the man Tony had kissed in the pool.

They reached up in unison and dragged the unsuspecting Brian out of the chaise and and tossed him the deep end.

Sputtering and laughing, Brian bobbed to the surface, brushing back wet dark curls from his eyes. He heard a loud splash next to him and turned, astonished to see that Michael had jumped into the pool next to him.

Body glistening, lashes dewed with moisture, hair streaming down his shoulders, Michael looked at Brian and gave him a slow, heart-stopping smile. He reached for Brian and took him a tight embrace.

"Michael?" asked Brian uncertainly, hardly believing what the look and the embrace might mean.

Not speaking, Michael leaned forward and kissed him.

Brian closed his eyes. The world tilted. There was no ground beneath his feet, nothing to hold on to but Michael. He was floating in sweetness, adrift in the passion, aware only of the feel of the man he loved next to him, of Michael's mouth on his...

"Jesus..." Brian groaned, breaking the kiss.

Loud laughter erupted around them, coming form the couples in ad around the pool. Tony was laughing the loudest.

He gave Michael a huge conspiratorial wink. "Don't you just love the shy ones best?" Tony asked.

Michael smiled, dazzling Brian further. "Yes. I do," he said huskily.

He pulled Brian close again, locking his lips with his, and then pulled them both under the water.

A second later, Brian laughed happily when Michael brought them up for air. "Let's go to our room," whispered Michael in his ear.

"Christ!" Brian breathed. " Holy Sh...." he started to say, but was silenced by Michael's mouth on his.

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

Michael kissed him all the way back to their room. Brian, delerious and dizzy, hardly noticed they had arrived there until Michael broke the kiss to open the door.

In a daze, Brian followed him into the room and shut the door behind them.

Michael was just a few steps from him, but it was too far away. Brian reached for him, maoning his name.

"Oh, God, Michael..."

Brian found himself held not in a soft embrace but in an almost painful grip, Michael's hands biting into the flesh of his upper arms. The green eyes were no longer warm with passion, but suddenly and completely icy cold.

Mission mode. The machine Michael was back.

"That was good," Michael commented cooly.

Brian gasped. "What?"

Michael released him and strode to the window, lifting one of the slats of the blinds to look out.

"Our contact knows we're here now, and will inform the target." He looked back at Brian where he stood leaning up against the wall for support.

"We'll be going to the party. We'll take him down tonight."

"Contact?" said Brian, bewildered. "But we didn't meet anyb..."

He froze, eyes widening. "Tony?"

"Yes," Michael nodded, turning back to scan the area outside the window.

"But how do you know he's accepted us?"

Still turned away, Michael answered. "He threw you in the pool. That was the signal."

Brian slumped against the wall. Nothing was as it seemed, he was learning.

"And just how are we.. you.. going to take Alonzo down?" he asked.

Michael gave him the blank stare, not explaining.

Brian gave a small laugh. "All right, DON'T tell me. ..."

He smiled shyly up at Michael. "I'm just the dumb... bimbo on this trip, right?"

Michael smiled wryly, just one side of his mouth curling up slightly. "Right," he agreed softly.

He hadn't meant the word cruelly, but Brian felt the sting of it just the same.

Michael fell back into watchful silence, still looking out the window.

Brian brushed past him to go further into the room, heading for his clothes on the chair.

Suddenly, he felt Michael's arm on his again. Michael dragged him, grip tight, the few steps to the bed, then pushed Brian roughly down on it.

"What are you doing?" Brian gasped, surprised.

He tried to sit up, but found himself pinned when Michael's full body weight came down on him. He felt the full, sensuous lips at his throat, then the sensitive hands roaming...

"Oh, God, Michael..." Brian whimpered. "I .. love you....."

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

"I love you, Michael," Brian groaned again.

The declaration had just come out, the words slipping past his lips easily after being held back for so many months. It was like something painful in him had been released, like something broken in him had been put back together...

Brian tried again to lift his head and pull Michael closer, to kiss him, but the older man did not allow it. With one hand firmly on Brian's chest, he held him down. The other trailed over the muscled abdomen and found and gripped Brian's tumnescent manhood.

Brian gasped and surrendered to Michael's touch, no longer struggling.

Moaning, he arched his back, twisting on the bed. He closed his eyes, head thrown back, incoherent sounds coming from his throat, while Michael stroked him quickly into a full erection.

"Hunh... uhhh... uh... ahhhh..." Brian was almost crying, the pleasure was so intense. He grimaced in ecstacy, face contorted in passion as he tossed his head back and forth on the bed, hands digging into the coverlet while Michael relentlessy aroused him, hand squeezing, moving.....

"Michael, yes...." Brian panted."Oh God, yes...."

He was pulled rudely from his world of delirious passion by the sound of the door opening. Brian jerked up, eyes coming open. Wilson, the concierge, stood in the doorframe, calmly contemplating the sight of the two men on the bed.

Brian tried to twist out from under Michael's grasp to sit up, but Michael laid his forearm across his throat, effectively stopping all movement, rendering Brian helpless.

He stared at Michael in dismay as he responded to Wilson's presence in a way that shocked him.

"What is it?" asked Michael calmly, as if he had been interrupted while playing chess instead of in the most intimate of moments.

"My, he is just as beautiful as you said he was," cooed Wilson softly, gazing steadily at the fullness of Brian's erection resting in Michael's hand.

"I asked you a question," said Michael in a cool, level tone.

"What? Oh, yes, yes. It's so distracting, sorry..." stammered Wilson.

He cleared his throat and smiled. "It's all set. Mr. Alonzo will meet you tonight at midnight."

He grinned one more time before leaving and closing the door. "Oh, and don't forget to bring the gift," he added, laughing.

At the sound of Wilson's exit, Michael released his grip on Brian. The younger man backed up on the bed, crawling away from Michael to rest his back against the headboard.

He was badly shaken, staring at the other man in distress.

It was all an act, a performance for the mission. There had been no passion on Michael's part, only cold calculation. He had used Brian's fervent response to him to further their cover story; that was all.

With deep shame Brian realized he just had confessed his deepest feelings to a man who had no feelings at all for him.

"What gift? What kind of gift was he talking about?" asked Brian, trying to calm his incoherent thoughts and bring them around to the mission as well.

Michael sat on the side of the bed and sighed. He turned to look at Brian, green eyes infinitely sad.

"You," he said.

"What?" said Brian, not wanting to understand.

"You're... the gift," explained Michael softly, voice full of regret. "Alonzo likes.... shy young men."

Brian stiffened in shock. "Oh, sh*t," he said again.

**********

In a flash, Brian was up and off the bed. He wanted to put as much distance as he could between him and Michael. Between him and the site of his humiliation.

He was also afraid.

Grabbing his clothes off the chair, he pulled them hastily on, angry words of self-recrimination spilling from him as he dressed.

Brian was grateful for the rage he felt. Better anger than the tears that threatened, he thought. He didn't want Michael to know how deeply he was hurt.

"Wow, stupid bimbo was the right phrase for it, wasn't it?" Brian shouted. "I was such an IDIOT..."

Michael gazed at him calmly, sitting quietly on the side of the bed, eyes fixed on the younger man.

"I actually BELIEVED that BITCH Madeleine when she told me that THIS TIME all I'd have to do is hold hands and make goo-goo eyes at you..."

Brian finished dressing and now paced agitatedly in front of Michael, chest heaving, eyes wild.

"Jesus, I am so STUPID..."

"Brian, calme toi..." said Michael softly. He stood up and approached the other man slowly.

Brian backed away from him. "No! Don't touch me!"

"Brian, listen to me," soothed Michael, taking another step toward him. "I don't want to hurt you..."

"No!" Brian's eyes searched for a way past him, desperate for escape. "You set me up! You wanted me on this mission so that some Sleaze-bag worse than Bauer could rape me...."

Michael shook his head, and took another step forward. "No, it's not like that. I want you to trust me...."

"NEVER! NO WAY!" shouted Brian, reaching the limit of his emotional tether. He tried to rush past Michael to the door.

Michael caught him easily, despite Brian's advantage of height and weight. Brian found himself back on the bed,this time face down, with his arm twisted up behind his back and Michael's knee digging into his kidneys.

"BASTARD!" Brian yelled as he struggled. "Let me GO!"

Brian gasped in shock as he suddenly got his wish; Michael released him. When he turned over, however, Michael's fist was there, connecting sharply with his face.

The blow sent him reeling back on the bed, head lolling. The world blinked out into blackness, to be replaced by starbursts of painful light, before reality winked on again.

"Uhhhh...." he groaned, twisting on the bed. When Brian could open his eyes again, it was to see Michael above him, holding handcuffs.

"No..." Brian protested weakly. Heart sinking, he felt the cold metal snapped onto his wrist, then heard the snick of the lock as Michael chained him to the headboard.

He struggled to sit up, but Michael pushed him back and he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his neck.

"No..." The cool green eyes were the last thing he saw before the world went black.

***********

Michael watched Brian's eyes go wide with shock as the needle went in, then flutter closed, head rolling to one side as his body went limp.

Michael sighed and rested one hand on the young man's cheek where he had struck him. There would be glorious bruise there tomorrow.

If he lived til tomorrow. Michael shivered, trying to banish the thought. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly.

Straightening from the bed, Michal walked swiftly to his suitcase near the door and pulled it up on the bed. Instead of more resort wear, he chose to dress again in his usual black. His fingers fumbled in his haste over the buttons of his suit coat.

Glancing once more at the unconscious Brian, Michael walked brisky to the door and locked it behind him.

He had a lot to do and little time in which to do it.

His first task was to see Wilson. He found him in his office, which was a small, cozy room just off the lobby of the hotel. Michael barged in, unannounced, slamming the door closed behind him. He had no patience for the nicieties.

"Michael!" Wilson looked up from his desk, unalarmed, his usual grin still in place. "Well, well. What can I do for you?"

"I'm leaving for a while," Michael answered. "On business."

"Oh? Going to a funeral perhaps?" quipped the concierge, eyeing Michael's dark clothing with amusement.

Michael ignored his comment. "I need you to do something for me until I get back."

"And what is that, my dear man?" Wilson said, unperturbed by Michael's cool tone.

Michael glanced away, then looked back at Wilson. He wasn't sure he trusted the man, but there was no one else to ask.

"Brian is in our room," Michael told him, turning back to stare in the other man's gray eyes. "Make sure he stays there."

Wilson's eyes gleamed. "I see," he said gleefully. "Well, well.... I'll take of him for you..."

"Personally," Wilson added, laughing.

It was the wrong thing to say.

Michael had him by the throat in a second, gloved hand spanning his neck, applying uncomfortable pressure. Michael lowered his face to Wilson's eye level and stared at him while the hand squeezed tighter.

Wilson got the message. "O.K.! O.K.!" Wilson whined, "I won't bother him. You can trust me..."

Michael did not let go of his grip on the other man's throat. "If you touch him, I'll kill you. Understand?"

Wilson nodded his head as best he could with Michael's hand on his neck. "Of course," he gasped. "That's why you can trust me."

Gray eyes met green for one long moment. Then Micchael released him and strode to the door. He gave Wilson one last hard glare before he turned on his heel and was gone.

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

Jilly snuggled into her pillow with a happy sigh. Things had improved greatly since her last mission with Michael two weeks ago. The tracker that had been placed in her leg without her knowledge had been removed, and the constant pain it had caused her had dissapeared with it.

At last, now she could sleep.

It was early in the evening, but Jilly had decided to go to bed anyway. For weeks, her nights had been long ordeals of brief, usually drug-induced, escapes from the pain interspersed with lengthy periods of restless tossing and turning. Night time had become a total torment, not the blessed respite it should have been.

But now, she could luxuriate in the total bliss of lazy, comfortable wallowing in bed.... alone.

She smiled. So what if it was only eight o'clock at night? She would indulge herself. She deserved it.....

A creaking noise brought her sharply out of her drowsy musings. The sound did not come from her movements on the bed, but from somewhere beyond it in the dark bedroom.

Instincts and training kicking in, she lifted her arm swiftly up and out, her fist encountering hard bone. She turned, unable to make out who it was in the darkness, but noting with satisfaction that the shadowy figure above her had grunted with pain when her blow had connected with his jaw.

Sensing rather than seeing where he was, Jilly lifted her knee up sharply, hoping to do damage to her assailant's male parts. That usually stopped them, she thought ferally.

But instead of connecting with sensitive male organs, her leg encountered a hand that gripped her painfully around the newly-healed thigh.

She groaned in pain as well as frustration as she felt herself lifted up and pulled back against a hard wall of male chest, her attacker's arms holding her there by her elbows.

She struggled and cursed him. "Damn you, let me go!"

A soft, familiar French-accented voice in her ear stopped all her struggles.

"Jilly, please. It's me....."

"Michael?" she said, stunned, as he released her.

She stretched out a hand to turn the light on, but he turned it back off.

Jilly sighed. "Michael, did you ever hear of a little invention called the doorbell?"

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up beside him. Jilly continued in her flippant tone.

"You know, Michael, people are really going to think you DIG me or something if you keep sneaking into my bedroom like this...."

He gripped her wrist tightly, stopping her jokes.

"I don't have much time," he said in an urgent, anxious tone. "I need your help."

"Sure," she agreed instantly. Michael had saved her life; she owed him. "What do you want me to do?"

Michael told her.

He couldn't see her puzzled expression in the dark, but it was evident in her voice.

"Yeah, O.K., I can do that," she said, aquiescing. "But why don't you just go in to Section and get the stuff yourself?"

"I'm supposed to be in Florida now on a mission," he answered. "I can't be seen in Section."

Something in the tone of his voice made Jilly reach out in the dark to pat him on the shoulder.

"Could you use some back-up?" she offered. "After I get the stuff I could go back with you..."

"No," he said sharply. The vehemence in his tone made her jump, then she realized he had probably refused her assistance in order to keep her out of danger. Obviously something had gone very wrong with this mission.

Or possibly it had been wrong from the start.

She got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, grabbing up her clothes hastily and taking them with her. She began to dress hurriedly, speaking to Michael through the partially closed door.

"Are you alone on this mission?" she asked.

"No. Dr. Whicker is with me," Michael answered in a grim tone.

Jilly startled. "You mean Brian?"

He had been the doctor to treat her when she had received her first gun shot wound a year ago. Somehow she knew immediately that the shy young doctor was not cold op material.

Why would Section send someone lkie that, so gentle, so .... vunerable on a mission, unless...

Section must be using him, Jilly realized instinctively. And Michael is trying to protect him.

She finished dressing and came back out to the bedroom. "Is he all right?" she asked.

Michael grimaced in the dark. "He will be, if you help me," came the tense answer.

"I see," she said, feeling a sudden rush of affection for this man.

To Section, she and Brian, all of them, really, were cannon fodder. Expendable. Acceptable collateral. Their death and their suffering meant nothing to Section, as long as the mission succeeded.

But they mattered to Michael. For some reason, he had gone out of his way to see that she survived. And he was risking himself now to save Brian.

To save him or to cancel him? She thought suddenly. Did Michael perhaps just want to bring Brian a quick and painless death instead of the slow torture Section might have planned for him?

She shook her head, stopping her futile speculations about Michael's motives. Whatever he was trying to do, she would help him.

Jilly went to her dresser and picked up her purse and car keys. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said, pulling open the bedroom door.

"Hurry." Michael hoped he would have enough time. Enough time to retrieve what he needed from Section, fly back to the Keys, and be back in time to take Brian to the party with Alonzo. To offer him in trade for the intel Section wanted.....

"Hurry, please," he said again.

He sounded so forlorn, Jilly felt compelled to go back to him, to pat his shoulder again and offer words of comfort.

"I will," she told him. "Trust me."

He caught her hand in his and held it a moment before he let her go.

"I do," he said.

Jilly nodded, taking the words with her- they seemed to light her way in the dark, making her feel warm in the cold night.

"Same here, Michael," she whispered at the doorway, and then she was gone, leaving him to wait silently in the night.

***********

Michael strode quickly down the path to his room at the Conch House Resort. He brushed past the hibiscus flowers hanging over the sidewalk, ignoring their touch on his coat as well as the smell and sounds of the soft tropical night.

All his awareness was centered on getting to Brian, all of his concentration on preparing himself for what he would have to do.

He had thought things over on the plane, trying to look at the situation from all angles, trying to see it all from a new direction. But there was no alternative.

He patted his coat pocket where the small packet Jilly had given him lay nestled against his chest. It was his only option.

It was Brian's way out.

Turning the corner, Michael found himself in front of his room. The door was guarded by a beefy-looking young man with a bored expression on his face. He was obviously one of Wilson's security men.

Or was he working for Alonzo?

A chill ran down Michael's spine and he shivered, in spite of the fact that he he was wearing a black coat in the 80 degree heat.

The guard yawned at his approach and straightened up from where he had been leaning against the door frame.

"O.K.," he said in an indifferent tone. "He's all yours."

Michael gripped him by the arm, preventing him from leaving. "Were there any visitors?" he asked tensely. "Did anyone go in this room?"

The large man looked bored. "Nah," he said. "Just the one."

Michael stiffened, freezing for a moment as the fear went through him. After a second he shoved the guard away from the door and fumbled with his key, hands trembling.

He pushed the door open and slammed it shut with a bang behind him, eyes searching the room.

Brian lay on the bed where Michael had left him, face turned to the wall. At the noise of the door slamming, the young doctor turned his head toward him, eyes glazed, still groggy from the drug.

"Brian?" In a few quick steps Michael was standing beside the bed, looking down on the younger man. His eyes searched over him, looking up and down his long torso to see if the "visitor" had hurt him.

That's when he saw it.

Brian's shirt had been pulled up and out of the waistband of his slacks, revealing the hard muscles of his abdomen with their covering of soft hair. Just where the narrow line of dark hair dissapeared into Brian's pants, a small envelope had been shoved, its edge peeking out over the waistband of the slacks.

Michael looked at Brian, who tossed his head and shifted on the bed.

"Who was here?" Michael demanded.

Brian groaned, but said nothing. He was looking in Michael's direction, but his gaze was soft and unfocused.

Angrily, he snatched the note from Brian's body, the younger man flinching at his touch. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to focus, coming slowly awake.

"Huh? Wha...." Brian moaned. He blinked again. "Michael?"

Michael watched him, relieved to see he seemed all right. Saying nothing, he opened the envelope and took out the slip of paper inside.

It was an engraved invitation, stating the time and place of the party, complete with printed directions on how to get to the house. At the bottom was scrawled a handwritten note.

"Don't be late. Remember, Hostess gift required." it said. Underneath it was signed in a large script, C. Alonzo.

"You're going to give me to him, aren't you?" said Brian's voice quietly from the bed.

Michael lifted his eyes from the note to meet Brian's calm blue gaze. He was fully awake now, and seemed resigned to his fate, the will to fight gone out of him.

Michael lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

Brian sighed and turned his head away. "Is he going to let me go after he has his fun with me, or is he going to kill me?" he asked softly.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing painfully.

"Alonzo likes to play with his.... captives a long time before he disposes of them," he forced out hoarsely.

Michael was reliving in his mind the long weeks of torture he had endured in prison when he first came there-- gang raped daily, never knowing when the brutal sexual assaults would turn even more violent, wondering if they would kill him, praying that they would....

God, he thought. I do not want that for Brian.

"Do you really ....hate me that much?" Brian asked, voice catching in his throat. He turned his head back on the pillow to look at Michael.

A muscle in Michael's jaw twitched. "No, he said softly. "I don't hate you."

"I'm going to help you," Michael told him, taking the packet that Jilly had purloined from Walter's vast array of weapon's supplies.

"How?" asked Brian, sounding suddenly hopeful.

Michael opened the packet and took out one of the vials of rare isotopes. "With this," he said.

"What is it?" asked Brian, trusting.

Michael pulled up Brian's shirt, exposing his bare chest to view. With his gloved hand, he smeared the entire contents of the vial over Brian's bare skin.

"Just something to make it easier for you," Michael answered.

**********

They were silent on the ride to Alonzo's house, Brian sitting numbly in the passenger seat. His wrists were handcuffed together behind his back, the seat belt pulled across his chest, securing him in his seat.

He had followed Michael docilely to the car, knowing that fighting him was futile. He still felt a strange lassitude and peace that he knew was partly due to the drug Michael had given him.

But not all of it. Brian sensed his feeling of resignation had to do with the fact that he had accepted that Michael did not love him in return. How could he, when they were entrapped here in Section?

What love Michael did have that hadn't been ground out of him by the relentlessly cruel requirements of Section One belonged to Nikita.

But Brian was grateful that Michael's heart still held the capacity for mercy toward him, even if he couldn't love him in return.

"I'm sorry," Brian said suddenly.

Michael turned his head toward him sharply, shocked at his words.

"What do you mean? Why would you have anything to be sorry for?" Michael burst out.

Brian looked out the window at the night traffic, not seeing it. He tried to compose his chaotic thoughts.

"I'm sorry .... that I expected things from you that you couldn't give," Brian said quietly. "But I meant what I said."

He turned in his seat to look at Michael. "I do love you, Michael."

Brian leaned back, suddenly weary, against the head rest, closing his eyes. At least everything would be over soon.

An unexpected peace filled him. At least he'd had the chance to say the words before it was too late.

Michael drove on in silence, staring at the highway. He found that all at once the road had grown blurry before him, and he hastily reached up to brush away the harsh tears that suddenly stung his eyes.

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

Michael walked confidently into the private wing of the house where they would meet Alonzo. The sounds of a party in the main part of the house echoed dimly through the walls, sounding very far away.

Holding Brian by the back of the neck, he guided the younger man forward. They were flanked by two guards who led them down the hall, stopping in front of a pair of large double doors.

One of the guards knocked on the door sharply, then opened it, indicating that Michael and his prisoner should enter.

Michael took a few steps into the spacious room that was both living room and office. He and Brian looked around, but the room seemed empty.

A door on the far side of the suite opened. A man emerged out of what was obviously a bathroom, wearing a robe and toweling his hair still wet from the shower.

"Wait outside," came his muffled orders to the guards from under the towel.

They nodded and left, closing the door behind them.

"Alonzo?" said Michael in a question, as the robe man walked toward them.

He lowered the towel to his shoulders and with one hand brushed back his short, wavy hair. Gray eyes twinkled at them, lingering longest on Brian.

"That's me," said the man they knew as Greg Wilson.

He perched with one hip on the huge desk in the center of the room, staring at them challengingly.

"Carlos Alonzo, at your service," he said with a small bow of his head. "Or call me Wilson, if you prefer."

He laughed when the two men remained silent, staring at him in shock.

"Playing the flighty concierge gives me a chance to check out who I do business with, you see," he drawled.

His gaze swept over Brian again, lingering on the young man's hard thighs and the outline of the bulge between his legs revealed by the clinging material of his slacks.

Alonzo laughed again. "And who I take pleasure with, as well," he leered, licking his lips.

Michael flinched, pursing his mouth in a grim line.

"So you see, Michael, you already know me to be a fair business man....."

Alonzo walked to the sideboard, where he poured himself a drink. "I could have taken your .... offering anytime I wanted," he said, nodding his head toward Brian.

"But I didn't." He walked back to his desk with the drink. "I like to do things fair and square."

Michael tensed and watched him warily as Alonzo went behind the desk and started to take something out of the top drawer. Michael had been releived of his weapons by the guards before he entered the house. He disliked the feling of being unarmed in Alonzo's presence.

Under his friendly persona, Michael sensed that Alonzo was much more dangerous than he seemed.

"Relax, my dear friend," Alonzo told Michael. Instead of taking a gun out of the drawer as he had expected, Alonzo pulled out a shiny computer disk and held it up for them to see.

"I'm just an honest business man, like I told you."

He walked toward them, again, eyes riveted as before on Brian. The young doctor took a hesistant step back from him, eyes wide. Michael tightened the grip on his neck, jerking him still.

"so let's get down to business, shall we?" Alonzo grinned. "Here is your information, my dear Sir," he said, offering the disk to Michael, who took it from him with one gloved hand.

"And now," Alonzo went on, smiling broadly at Brian, "this tender young plaything is mine....."

Alonzo caressed Brian's cheek with one hand while the other opened the robe he was wearing to reveal pajama bottoms underneath. His tanned chest was bare.

Brian flinched back from Alonzo's hand.

"Now, now," laughed the older man. "Don't be so shy...."

With a sudden violent movement, Alonzo ripped Brian's shirt open, leaving it hanging in shreds from his shoulders, revealing the younger man's bare chest to his gaze.

He pulled Brian from Michael's loosened grip into a a tight embrace, and kissed him. Brian wriggled fiercely, trying to escape, but Alonzo pressed him closer, bare chest abrading bare chest, bodies rubbing across each other as Brian struggled.

Michael stood back, a small smile on his face.

The small smile widened slightly when Alonzo pushed Brian abruptly away from him with a sharp scream.

"Ahhhh...." he wailed, clutching his chest. "I'm.. burning... I'm burning..."

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

Brian felt the burning, too. Whatever it was that Michael had smeared on his chest earlier had dried there, leaving a faint trace of stickiness on his skin, but otherwise had had no effect at all. Brian had almost forgotten about it.

But he couldn't forget aout it now. The pain was increasing, moment by moment....

With his hands cuffed behind his back and Michael's hand gripping his neck to hold him still, Brian had had no choice but to endure Alonzo's swift assault. When the other man's body had impacted against his, the contact had seemed to ignite Brian's chest into a field of flame...

It was if he was burning from the inside.

When Alonzo quickly released him to scream out his own pain, Brian fell to his knees, gasping. "Ahhh.. oh, God..... ohhh..."

Eyes narrowed in pain, he squinted up at Michael, looking to him for help.

He saw that Alonzo was doing the same.

The older man had staggered back against his desk, one hand clutching his chest. He glared at Michael in disbelief. The other hand reached for a button on his desk.

One cold word from Michael stopped him. "Don't."

Alonzo paused, hand in mid-air, as he watched Michael swagger toward him.

"I don't know what you did to me," Alonzo gasped out angrily, "but I'm having my men take me to the hospital."

The pain was too great. Alonzo prioritized his needs- hospital first. He would deal with getting revenge on Michael later.

"The hospital can't help you," said Michael calmly. He reached into his coat pocket and took out another vial, holding it temptingly in front of Alonzo's face.

"This can," Michael said.

Still gasping, Alonzo eyed Michael warily. "What is it?" he asked.

Michael gazed at him coldly. "The pain you feel now is from a rare radioactive isotope eating away at your skin. The pain will get worse for a while, but in three hours, you won't feel a thing."

Michael smiled. "You'll be dead."

Alonzo cried out. "No! Please..." he blubbered.

Michael waggled the vial in front of him again. "But this is the antidote," he teased. "Right here."

So far in all his dealings with Michael Alonzo had formed the opinion that Michael was a very serious man. He believed him now.

Michael went on taunting him. "I have just enough antidote to use on either you or my friend here," he said, indicating Brian, who had collapsed onto his side on the carpet, moaning softly.

"I can't save you both," Michael continued with deadly composure.

He stared at Alonzo with cold green eyes. "Persuade me to help you."

The older man was openly sobbing now. "What do you want?" he begged. "I'll give you anything, anything..."

Michael paused for a moment as if to savor his triumph. "Download all the information about your organization for me. All your deals, all your contacts, everything.."

He tilted his head, regarding Alonzo thoughtfully. "Then I might consider letting you live."

Alonzo did not hesitate, needing no time to think the offer over. Hastily he fumbled at his desk, turning the computer on and collapsing into his chair.

"All right," he moaned. "All right, just give me a few minutes..."

It only took a short time to complete the task. He had had a program already set up in case of emergencies, so that he could retrieve all the data from his computer and escape with it. Alonzo was grateful he had taken such precautions, been so careful...

Alonzo waited the agonizing minute that it took the computer to download the files to the disk. As soon as it was ready, he fumbled it out of the disk drive and tossed it toward Michael.

"There it is," he gasped feebly, collapsing across the top of his desk. "Now, give me the antidote... please...."

"Of course," said Michael politely. He slipped the disk in his pocket with a smile and then placed the vial in Alonzo's outstretched hand.

The older man snatched it greedily and fumbled the vial open. He spilled the contents over his chest, rubbing the liquid in from shoulders to waist, while he panted in relief.The liquid numbed his skin, a pleasant tingling sensation replacing the unbearable pain.

He caught his breath, tears and panic fading, and turned to give Michael a slow evil smile. He lifted the almost empty vial over his head and then smashed it hard on the desk, the pieces shattering across its surface.

He grinned at Michael. "I've lost the disk, but you've lost something, too."

Alonzo nodded his head at Brian, curled up half-conscious on the floor, eyes glazed with pain.

"You get to watch your lover die," he smiled. "Enjoy your last hours together, Michael," he chuckled.

The smile faded. "Take him and get out," Alonzo commanded.

Michael nodded, and bent to Brian's side. He lifted the young man in his arms and rose, holding him agianst his chest.

Brian managed to open his eyes to look at Michael one last time before oblivion claimed him. He sighed, giving himself up to the darkness.

His last thought was that if he had to die at least he had been held in Michael's arms one last time.

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

Brian's first impression of Heaven was that it was noisy----- not noisy with beautiful music, or angelic choirs, or ethereal melodies, but just... noise.

thump thump thump whump whump whump whump thump thump thump

The constant, unrelenting noise aroused him from his eternal rest, keeping him from enjoying his well-earned Nirvana.

Annoyed, he frowned. He needed to tell someone to make it stop. Couldn't he get any PEACE around here?

He cracked open one eye and looked around. He had a view of fluffy white clouds floating in a clear blue sky. That's what he had been told to expect. But no one had told him about the noise...

He gave a frustrated moan, and shut his eyes again. "Make it stop..." he whispered.

"Michael!" said an unknown young female voice . "Michael, I think he's coming around.."

The next voice Brian heard was familiar. More than familiar. Cherished. Beloved. It was Heaven here after all, Brian thought.

"Brian, can you hear me?"

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

Brian opened his eyes again, blinking. Reality returned, perceptions reoriented.

This time he could see that the heavenly clouds were there as before, framed in a window of the Black Hawk helicopter he was riding in. The whirr of its blades had been the noise he had heard.

He wasn't dead, and Michael was there.

Turning his head, he met the concerned green eyes. "What happened?" Brian asked as he tried to sit up.

The intense burning in his chest had subsided to a general feeling of soreness, and now he felt little discomfort other than an overwhelming sense of fatigue and bewilderment.

From off to his right the female voice answered. "You went to Florida on vacation and got one hell of sunburn," she quipped.

Brian carefully sat up on the bench where he'd been lying and looked at the source of the voice. His eyes took in a small, lean female form in black mission-gear, her mask removed to reveal laughing light blue eyes and a tumble of shoulder-length honey-colored hair.

"Jilly?" he said, recognizing her from before.

"How do you feel?" Michael asked from the other side of him.

Brian ran a hand through his hair and sighed, shakily. "Pretty good, I guess," he replied uncertainly. "For someone who's supposed to be dead."

He looked at Michael, his tone holding more confusion than condemnation. "You gave Alonzo the only antidote..."

Michael smiled one of his slight, almost imperceptible smiles. "No. There was no antidote. What I gave him was the isotope. He's dead now and his organization is destroyed."

Brian stared at him, still bewildered. He put a hand on his chest where the skin was red, rough, and peeling. Looking down at the damage, he asked, "But what did this? What was that stuff you put on me?"

"It's an exfoliating agent. It was in an emulsified form, so that it wouldn't be activated until you touched or rubbed it..." Michael answered.

"Or until Alonzo touched me," said Brian, comprehension dawning.

"Yes," said Michael.

Brian laughed suddenly. "It sure felt like it could kill you," he said, rubbing his chest. "That stuff hurt like Hell."

Michael frowned, and looked away. "I'm sorry I had to do that to you," he said tensely. "And that I had to deceive you. But your reactions had to be convincing."

Brian laughed again. "Well, I was scared out of mind, all right."

He was suddenly embarrassed, remembering their talk in the car, his "death-bed" confession of his love for Michael and his regret for wanting something that could never be.

"So you had it all planned from the start," Brian mused on, relieved. "You never were going to leave me there with him."

Michael straightened abruptly and walked stiffly toward the cockpit of the chopper. "I'm going to check on our flight pattern," he said, and dissapeared behind the half wall in the machine.

Brian felt more bewildered. What had he said to offend Michael like that?

He turned to Jilly, who took a seat beside him on the bench. "Brian, when you get back to Section, you can't tell anyone about the isotope, or how Alonzo was brought down."

Brian started at her, not understanding. "Why not? Don't they know about it already? Wasn't that the mission profile from the beginning?"

Jilly put a gentle hand on his arm. "No," she said softly. "It wasn't."

Brian waited in tense silence for her to continue.

"Michael went against Section, lied to them, in order to protect you," Jilly went on in a whisper. "Their original plan was for Michael to sell you to Alonzo, then for him to break into his computer files while Alonzo was.."

"While Alonzo was raping me," Brian finished.

"Yes," she said gently. "Michael asked me to sneak out the isotopes from Walter's supplies for him. You can't tell Section about that either. Or that you've seen me here."

She grinned. "You got a sunburn, and I was home in bed, sleeping. That's all, got it?"

Brian closed his eyes, a rush of intense gratitude flowing over him. He took Jilly's hand in his and squeezed it, hard. "Thank you," he said hoarsely as he looked into her eyes.

"Sure," Jilly said, embarrassed. "No big deal."

Brian was suddenly embarrassed as well. "Why would you do that? You hardly know me. Why would you risk your life for me?" he asked shyly.

Jilly inched closer to him on the bench, still whispering. "Because Michael asked me to do it as a favor. And I owed him for saving my life."

"Oh," said Brian, comprehending. Michael, behind the ruthless, cold exterior, was a caring, tender person, trying to save his friends the only way he knew how.

The absurdity of it hit Brian and he laughed again. "So," he asked Jilly wryly, "Did Michael give you a sunburn, too?"

Jilly laughed with him. "No. But he had them put a tracker in my leg because my wound wasn't healing and they would have cancelled me, otherwise. He wanted Section to think of me as useful to them, not expendable."

"If it's any consolation to you," she added, "it hurt like hell, too."

Jilly sobered, but she was still smiling. "Brian, you have to realize that Michael only does this kind of thing for those he .... cares about. He feels deeply for you, otherwise he could have just followed the mission profile and let Section add you to the acceptable colateral list."

Brian nodded. Song titles swirled in his head. "You only hurt the ones you love". "It's a strange way to tell me you love me.." Shaking his head, he turned back to Jilly. "Did Michael do anything else to show you he cared?"

She laughed again. "Well, he let me get kidnapped by a terrorist and stuck a needle in my neck.."

"Really?" Brian couldn't help laughing again. "Me, too. Sounds like a pattern..."

A thought struck them at the same time, and they both broke into a fit of giggles.

"Poor Nikita," they said in unison.

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

Michael paused in the inside doorway of the chopper, listening to the voices. He had heard his name mentioned, heard Jilly explaining to Brian that Michael cared for him, that he had tried to help her as well.

Michael sighed, and shoved an errant lock of thick hair behind his ear. He had gotten up abruptly from Brian's side when the younger man had looked at him so gratefully, so trustingly. Brian was even about to THANK him, for God's sake, for tricking him and using him....

He couldn't stand it. He hated the thought of what he had done, he loathed all the tricks, the lies, the deceit, the cunning, convoluted machinations of the truth that he performed in order to just survive.

To help his friends survive. How cruel he had been to them. To Nikita. It occured to him that he was getting to the point where he treated his friends almost as cruelly as he did his enemies.

He was getting to be more and more like Section every day, he thought. His ends were just, but his means were ruthless.

He didn't know what else to do. Didn't know how else to show them he cared other than by doing the best he could to protect them...

He leaned his forehead against the bulkhead of the helicopter, and closed his eyes, only half listening to Brian and Jilly.

His head came up suddenly when he heard them mention Nikita's name.

Nikita. He had hurt her more than anyone. He loved her more than anyone. He had protected her more than anyone.

Her words came back to him, echoing painfully in his mind.

"I never asked for your protection."

"I don't expect your support, but I do expect your ... love."

How else could he love her? How could he love her not try to protect her? To keep her safe?

He turned his attention from his own thoughts back to Jilly and Brian's conversation.

"Poor Nikita," they said in unison, laughing.

Jilly smiled. "She told me that Michael once threatened to shoot her in the leg and carry her if she didn't leave the area with him."

"Wow," laughed Brian. "He must really love her if he'd shoot her in the leg..."

"Yes, you could say Michael has a unique way of showing affection..." Jilly said with a giggle.

Brian looked at the pretty, laughing girl next to him. It felt good to have a friend like this. Her kind words had healed him inside, had brought everything into focus.

He had essentially told Michael good-bye in the car on the way to Alonzo's. He thought he would be dead soon, and he needed to say the words before it was too late.

He had wanted Michael to know he loved him, and he forgave him, and that he understood how things were- that a relationship between them could never be, because Michael loved Nikita.

Brian realized suddenly that his being alive now, with the possibility of being able to pursue a relationship with Michael, hadn't changed anything.

A door had been closed that night. Brian had said good-bye, had let Michael go. Brian knew he would always love him, but there was no way to go back. He had set Michael free, and he knew it was impossible to open that door again. He had to move on.

All these thoughts flashed through his head in an instant as he looked into Jilly's eyes. Suddenly light-hearted, he continued his conversation with Jilly.

"I don't use such exotic methods myself to show someone I care," said Brian. "I've never shot a girl in the leg or anything romantic like that...."

"Oh?" said Jilly, still laughing.

"Yeah, I have really boring, mundane ways of showing affection," Brian said softly, lowering his eyes.

"I usually go for asking a girl out to a movie and bringing her flowers."

"What!" Jilly exclaimed in mock dissaproval. "No shooting? No kidnapping? No torture?"

Brian smiled. "No torture. Unless you count holding hands and kissing...."

Brian lifted his head then, and Jilly eyes met his. Their gaze locked, and Jilly could read all his feelings there in the blue depths. He was shy and serious, and completely vunerable to her.

He is so sweet, she thought. No wonder Michael wanted to protect him. No wonder I'm feeling this way looking at him....

A little breathless, Jilly spoke, the words tumbling out all in a rush. "Well, you know, sometimes boring and mundane can be good.."

Brian look startled, then smiled shyly. Maybe, just maybe, Jilly was feeling the same way he did.

Also breathless, he spoke tentative words in return. "Does that mean you'll go out to a movie with me when we get back?"

Jilly blushed, and took his hand in hers. "I'd love to," she answered.

"Then it's a date," said Brian happily. "There's just one question I have to ask.."

"What's that?" asked Jilly, suddenly afraid he would turn her down after all.

Brian smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "What kind of flowers do you like?"

Laughing joyously, Jilly answered him. "I'll like any kind of flowers you bring...."

She turned her head toward him and very carefully avoiding touching the burned shoulders, she kissed him.

Brian, eyes closed, kissed her back. Lips touching only, they explored each other, tasting each other's sweetness. Jilly learned of Brian's tenderness and he learned of her gentleness in return.

After a moment that had seemed like a lifetime to them, or at least a major turning point in that lifetime, Jilly broke the kiss.

Sighing, she said softly, "I think Michael could learn something from you about the ways of love...."

Brian smiled shyly, heart soaring. "Are you sure about that? I mean, don't you want me to shoot you in the leg or something?"

Jilly laughed, and with her hand on the back of his neck, drew him closer. "No, Silly. Just kiss me again...."

Michael watched the couple sitting side by side on the bench. Watched their lips touch again.

He smiled to himself and paused before turning back to go sit with the pilot again. He thought it somewhat ironic, and at the same time heartening, that two people he had tried to save individually had found new life and new hope together. Had found love, he realized.

Maybe my ways of love aren't that bad after all, he thought to himself somewhat defensively. Maybe I do know how to show someone I love them...

Michael pushed himself off from the doorway he'd been leaning on, and walked the few steps back to the cockpit.

The thought occurred to him, that maybe Jilly was right. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about love from Brian.

"Hmm", Michael said to himself, a slow, dazzling smile crossing his face. "I wonder what kind of flowers Nikita likes...."

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