Shoving back a lock of dark brown hair that had fallen into her eyes, Kathy Ferguson paused in her labors, wiped her hands on her jeans, and stood looking around her dorm room, surveying her last hour's handiwork.

She had cleared space in the closet, the dresser drawers, the desk, and on the bulletin board. The shelf in the small bathroom she had also rearranged, careful to leave exactly half of its space open and ready.

She had been preparing for the arrival of a new roommate, a mid-semester transfer from another school. Until now, Kathy had had the room to herself. She didn't really mind the intrusion into her space- after all, there was already no privacy here at Larkhill Women's Academy anyway. What would one more pair of eyes on her matter?

Kathy sighed wearily and collapsed onto the small single bed on what would now be her side of the room. As usual, the stifling sense of being closed in, trapped, and imprisoned, assailed her. She felt that way not just here in her room, but everywhere on campus.

Larkhill was not what most people thought of when they thought of college- this was not a place where young people, away from home for the first time, tested their new freedoms, spread their wings, and along with their studies, indulged in the joys of exuberant youth, often in excess-perhaps partying too hard, perhaps falling foolishly in love, perhaps finding out who they are.

No, Larkhill was not about freedom at all. Girls were sent here by their rich parents to ensure that they were safe, and protected, and cocooned from all such joys and freedoms- Here there was a curfew, and strict rules about where students could and could not go. No one was allowed off campus without written permission.

There was no partying, no drinking, no smoking, no gum-chewing, no loud music, no movies, no dancing, and, of course, no MEN. The students were to behave with proper decorum at all times. Security was tight- no one came in, no one got out. There were security guards outside, and inside there was.... Mrs. Mallory.

Mrs. Mallory's official title was "Dorm Mother", but most of the girls just called her "the Warden"- behind her back, of course. Her function was to look after the girls and see that the school's rules were enforced.

In other words, she was a spy for the Powers That Be. Kathy suspected that Mrs. Mallory had been a bloodhound in a previous incarnation, or perhaps a member of Spanish Inquisition- whichever it had been, it seemed to Kathy that the older woman's only role in life was to make hers a living hell.

Kathy resented Mrs. Mallory's popping in, unannounced, at all hours. "The Warden" had a master key, and she used it unsparingly to check in on her charges.

She resented being watched at every turn, resented having every minute of her day scheduled and regimented for her. She resented being locked in her room at lights out, ten p.m., and resented being awakened at reveille, six a.m., every morning. She resented being told what to eat, what to wear, what to do--- but most of all, Kathy resented being told what to think, and what to feel.

"You should be so grateful to your father for sending you here, My Dear," Mrs. Mallory told her often. "You should feel so glad to be safe."

Well, Kathy WASN'T glad. Not at all. Her father was just being paranoid after a kidnapping threat made against her last year. Daddy had never told her what it was all about, but from what Kathy could gather, he suspected one of his business rivals was behind the plot.

Why they would want to kidnap her, and even what their particular business together had been, her father did not explain. Kathy only knew that one moment she had been living a perfectly normal life, and the next she was here in this prison.

Life at Larkhill sucked. She felt sorry for the new girl, whoever she might be. Kathy jumped at the sound of a key in the lock. She knew it must be Mrs. Mallory, who never knocked- just opened the door and barged in.

Kathy stood up as the door swung open. Mrs. Mallory, thin, spare, and gray-haired, was in the doorway, smiling with false sweetness at her. Her dark eyes gleamed.

"Hello, Dear," the old lady said. Kathy stiffened; the Warden's constant use of endearments and her pose of feigned affection always revolted her.

"Yes, Ma'am?" Kathy said warily.

The Warden stepped aside and ushered in a blonde, strikingly tall and very beautiful, before her into the room. The girl looked a little anxious, and maybe a little scared, thought Kathy, who felt an instant compassion for her.

"Here she is, Dear," said Mrs. Mallory in a smarmy voice. "Your new roommate."

"Hi!" said Kathy warmly, stepping forward to greet the new inmate. She held out her hand. "Glad to know you," the prisoner said. "I'm Kathy."

The blonde dropped the suitcase she had been holding on the floor and stretched out her hand in return. She shook hands gratefully.

"Hi," the pretty blonde captive said. "My name is Nikita."

Mrs. Mallory nodded approvingly and made her exit, locking the girls into the room together, then bustled off to interfere somewhere else.

Kathy made a face at the closed door through which the old lady had gone. "That's the Warden," Kathy told her new roommate. She grimaced and gestured at the room around them.

"Welcome to Leavenworth, Nikita," said the prisoner wryly."What are you in for?"

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

Nikita laughed and flopped down on the bed opposite to Kathy's. Yes, she had had the eerie feeling of deja vue as she had followed Mrs. Mallory down the hall and watched the older woman take out her keys and open the locked dorm room door. Larkhill Academy really did remind her of her time in prison.

One oppressive institution was so much like another, she thought. The atmosphere of this place reminded her of Section as well.

"Leavenworth instead of Larkhill, I presume?" Nikita said smiling. She already liked this pretty, spunky girl with her soft brown eyes and dark hair.

"Yeah, but don't laugh too hard," said Kathy with an answering smile. "This place is probably worse than Leavenworth...."

"Oh?" said Nikita, looking around at the small, but comfortable sunny room. "In what way?"

Kathy grinned. "Well, I hear Leavenworth at least has men."

Nikita laughed louder. "Is that why you're here?" she asked in a light teasing tone. "Because of a man?"

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Don't I WISH!" she complained. "No, no such luck, I'm afraid.."

She shook her head and her smile faded. "I'm here because my father thinks this is the safest place for me to be..."

She sighed heavily. "Daddy thinks some people want to kidnap me..."

"Oh!" said Nikita feigning surprise. Of course she knew all about Kathy's background, and about her father, a notorious arms dealer. The kidnapping attempt that had frightened Kathy's father into sending her here to Larkhill had been a failed endeavor of Section One's to use Feguson's only weakness against him- his daughter.

It was Nikita's assignment to find a way to get her out of this prison and bring her to another one, even more sinister- Section One.

"Jeez, are you scared?" asked Nikita sympathetically, leaning forward on the bed toward her roommate.

Kathy shook her head in disgust. "Naw," she answered. "It's sounds like it should be kinda thrilling, or exciting, or dangerous, but it's not.'

She sighed and looked down at the floor, pensive and suddenly sad. "I don't even think there was a kidnapping attempt. I think my Dad just imagined it. He's always been so paranoid about security, so totally uptight about people finding out his business secrets..."

"His business?" prompted Nikita. "What is that?"

The young brunette shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know exactly- he never talks about it..." she looked up into Nikita's bright blue, attentive eyes.

"He's in import/exports- how much intrigue and danger could there be?" said Kathy in genuine bewilderment.

Nikita nodded. It was as they had thought. Kathy Ferguson knew nothing of her father's traffic in guns, bombs, chemical weapons, and nuclear devices. Kathy was an innocent.

Nikita shuddered. She hoped Ferguson relented quickly once Kathy was taken- otherwise she would be in the tender care of Madeleine, who would make the loathed Mrs. Mallory look like a Fairy God-Mother in comparison.

"At least your father cares enough about you to want to keep you safe," said Nikita softly. "He justs wants to protect you.."

Kathy made a face. "I wouldn't mind being PROTECTED, -like having a body-guard or something-that wouldn't bother me..." She shivered as if trying to shake off the feeling of oppression that hung like a permanent cloud around around her.

"I just don't like being buried alive in this hell-hole," Kathy finished dramatically.

"Yeah," said Nikita, understanding completely. From what she had seen so far of Larkhill Academy, Nikita didn't think Kathy had exaggerated the situation greatly. "I get what you mean."

The girls sat in a glum but companionable silence for a few minutes.

Kathy was the first to stir from her depressed reverie. "I'm sorry," she said, rising from the bed. "I didn't mean to dump all my problems on you..."

She waved her hand at Nikita's suitcase. "Why don't you unpack and I'll make us something to eat?"

Nikita watched as Kathy lowered herself to the floor and pulled something out from under the bed. It was a large, flat box.

"I thought one of the rules was we couldn't have food or drinks in our rooms?" said Nikita, hiding a smile.

Kathy gave her an innocent look. "Absolutely right," she said with a straight face. "No food or drinks."

Kathy lifted the box onto her bed and opened the lid. Inside was a coffee maker, an electric skillet, and various boxes and bags of assorted foodstuffs and snacks. The brunette reached inside and tossed Nikita a bag of corn-chips.

"Munch on those while I start on the cofee and macaroni and cheese," Kathy told her with a saucy grin, carrying the coffee carafe into the bathroom to fill it with water.

Nikita laughed. "Damn, if only you had some booze and a pack of cigarettes in that box, I'd could feel like we were REALLY getting away with something..." she joked.

Kathy poked her head out of the bathroom door and grinned again. "Bottom desk drawer, on the right," she said smirking impishly. "No booze or cigarettes, however, there is contraband chewing gum....."

Nikita giggled. "Everything we need to be very naughty, indeed..."

Kathy left the bathroom and came out to stand in the middle of the room. She tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at Nikita. "Well," she drawled, "Maybe not EVERYTHING...."

The women held a look and then burst into giggles together. "MEN!" they squealed in unison, and dissolved into laughter.

Kathy got control of herself, and continued to bustle about, preparing the illicit meal. Nikita helped her in her task, feeling a close kinship with this girl whom she was deceiving with her friendship. She tried not to think about what was ahead, and just get into her role now.

They sat on the floor, the coffee cups and plates in front of them, ready to be pushed quickly under the bed if Mrs. Mallory should return.

"This is nice," said Kathy impulsively. "I'm enjoying your company."

Nikita blushed from guilt, feeling awkward. She quickly covered her embarrassment by asking a question. "But don't you get to hang out with other girls?" she queried. "Don't you have friends?"

Kathy chewed a corn chip and considered the question. "Well, I like most of the other girls, and we get along and all, it's just..."

"Just what?" prompted Nikita.

Kathy sighed. "They watch every move we make here. Everything we say is listened to, all our activities are supervised; then at the end of the day, we're locked away from each other...."

She looked up from her plate into her roommate's blue eyes. "It makes getting close pretty difficult, you know?"

Nikita closed her eyes, and thought of Michael. "Yeah," she answered softly. "I know."

Kathy took in the sad, wistful expression on Nikita's face and wanted to do something to make her smile again.

"Hey, I didn't mean to depress you, I'm sorry." Kathy nodded emphatically. "It's not that bad, really..."

Nikita looked up at her in puzzlement. "Weren't you just saying how this was worse than Leavenworth? A hell-hole, and all?"

Kathy laughed, and poured her new friend more coffee. "Well, yeah, absolutely! It is a hell-hole, BUT....." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"....What if I told you I found a way to get out of here, and it involved MEN?" She grinned. "Would that cheer you up?"

Nikita's eyes widened. "W-What?" she gasped. "A way out?"

"Kathy nodded happily. "Yeah! Cool, huh?" She held up one finger, and rose from her cross-legged pose on the floor. "Wait a minute, let me get the gum and then I'll tell you all about it...'

She crossed to the desk and fumbled in the drawer, humming to herself.

While Kathy's back was turned, Nikita spoke softly into her com-unit.

"Michael," she reported in a whisper, "We're in."

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

Nikita, My Dear," said Mrs. Mallory from the front seat of the Larkhill Academy van. "How incredibly sweet of you to volunteer to help your friend Kathy with her charity work."

She turned around in her seat to look at the two girls seated side by side in the seat behind her. They were accompanied by two security guards that flanked them, as well as another guard who was driving the van.

"It's nothing," said Nikita meekly. "I'm happy to help."

Mrs. Mallory was feeling very proud. Mr. Ferguson would indeed be pleased to know that his daughter was not only safe, and protected, but learning to take the proper attitude toward her role in Society. Mrs. Mallory had always sensed a hidden rebellious streak in the young woman, and had done her best to stamp it out.

It seems I am last succeeding, she thought.

Kathy squirmed in her seat and put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Her idea was a brilliant one, if she did think so herself, and everything was working out perfectly.

There were only a few things one was permitted to leave campus for- family emergencies, doctor visits, going home for the holidays, and a catch-all category called 'community activities'. This included going to church (chaperoned, of course), attending the theatre or ballet (again chaperoned), and volunteer work.

This last had seemed as void of possibilities as the other categories, until Kathy had learned that these activities went unchaperoned for the most part. She had had no desire to sit through a play, a recital, or a church service, however appealing they might be, in the company of Mrs. Mallory or one of her minions. Being bored in her room was infinitely preferable to that.

But by asking around, she had discovered that Mrs. Mallory balked at the idea of spending her time in such depressing places as the town's nursing homes and hospitals. It was perhaps cowardly of the old lady, or perhaps she was too delicate in her sensiblities, as she preferred to think of it, to expose herself to the sight of blood, or sickness.

No, thought Mrs. Mallory to herself, seeing her volunteers to the door of the hospital was quite enough for the school to ask of her, their most dedicated employee.

*Let these young ones with strong stomachs do this,* she thought, shuddering. *And while they're there doing their charity work, I can have a few hour's peace in the nearest tea shop down the street.*

The van pulled to a stop, and one of the guards opened the door for the girls and helped them out.

Nikita and Kathy looked up at the tall, white-stone building and exchanged a quick, conspiratorial look. Kathy's eyes twinkled.

"See you later, Mrs. Mallory," she called, waving to the old lady in the front seat of the van. "Yes, later, my Dears," the Warden answered, a little impatiently, and told the guards to drive on.

"C'mon," Kathy urged her new friend, taking Nikita by the arm and leading her inside the huge building. "We've got the whole afternoon to spend unsupervised...."

Nikita nodded, and noted that they went past a room labeled "Commissary" on their way to the elevators.

Kathy pulled Nikita back toward it. "I TOLD you this place had everything!" she gloated.

"Let's go in here and get your booze and cigarettes!" Kathy said with a giggle. "Then we can go upstairs and visit the MEN!"

Nikita shook her head, and laughed at her young friend. Then, arm in arm, she accompanied the unwitting Section target through the Veteran's Hospital, where she knew Michael lay in a bed in a ward on the fourth floor, posing as a patient.

"On our way, Michael," she whispered into her com-unit.

In his hard hospital bed several floors above, Michael turned his face away from his ward-mates and spoke a soft reply.

"I'm ready," he whispered.

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

The Commissary trip proved to take longer than what Nikita had thought. They left the store laden down with shopping bags full of what small treasures the store had available- cartons of cigarettes, cards, stuffed animals, candy, gum, newspapers, magazines, and various kits of toiletries- shaving cream, aftershave, soap, toothbrushes, and combs.

Nikita had watched in amazement as Kathy had collected her purchases, put them on the counter, and then gone back for more. Kathy's eyes gleamed as she paid for everything with a platinum credit card her father had given her.

Nikita grinned. "Aren't you going just a little bit overboard?" she asked.

Her companion giggled. "No way!" she denied. "I'm just having fun..."

She waggled one of the stuffed animals, a fuzzy, garish neon-yellow duck, at Nikita. "I haven't been shopping in MONTHS, and who knows?" She said, kissing the toy playfully on its orange beak, "THIS could be the way to some handsome man's heart..."

Nikita smiled. "Yeah, who knows?" she answered, while shaking her head indulgently. "You could be right...."

"One look a that duck, who is realy UGLY, by the way, and WHAM!" joked Nikita, "Any man would be our love slave for life..."

"Ya think?" grinned Kathy. "Well, then, let's save Ducky to give to someone special- you know, the cutest one we find, O.K.?"

"Yeah, Silly," Nikita said, shaking her head and smiling. "O.K."

She knew Kathy had no serious intentions to slip away with one of the patients for a rendezvous or a romance. The girl was just enjoying her lark, feeling the thrill of doing something forbidden after the months of pent-up frustrations at having the smallest of freedoms taken from her by the oppressive school environment.

Kathy was just a bit giddy with her freedom, and in a ebuillient mood. Nikita knew the girl's happiness would not last long. Section would see to that.

The girls boarded the elevator with their packages. When the doors had closed, Kathy sobered suddenly and swallowed hard. She looked up at her companion, whom she saw as more worldly-wise and experienced than herself. Kathy knew instinctively that Nikita was someone who knew how to handle herself in all situations.

Kathy asked for advice. "Do you think they'll like us?" she asked uncertainly in a small scared voice, her brown eyes innocent and wide.

Nikita looked at the pretty girl who had an open, generous heart and a naturally sunny nature. The only flaw she had that Nikita could see was her naive trust in Nikita herself.

"Are you kidding?" the blonde beauty assured her. "They'll LOVE us. Trust me!" She winked and held up one of the shaving kits. "Men can't resist a woman with free toothpaste..."

Kathy laughed, and relaxed. The elevator doors opened and they began their conquest of the veterans.

And a conquest it was. They toured the floors, visiting the private rooms as well as the wards, flirting, laughing, handing out their treasures, and lavishing their attention on the patients.

To the men, most of whom were older than Kathy's father, and were disabled with chronic conditions as the result of their wounds from battles fought long ago, the surprise visit of the beautiful girls was a wonderful break in the monotony of their days.

It let them know they weren't forgotten. They, not unlike Kathy herself, felt themselves to be prisoners of a sort as well. The men chafed under the stifling hospital routine, and the incredible boredom and hopelessness of their lives.

Some few were there for treatable conditions, and knew their incarceration would end someday. But a majority of the patients were "lifers"- in for the duration, until the doctors pronounced them free to go, in a wooden box.

Even the grumpiest, most taciturn of the patients made an effort to flirt back with the pretty girls, one a tall blonde and the other a petite brunette. The men smiled and clutched their contraband gift cigarettes or magazines to their chests, and felt as if a spark of life and light had touched them, in their stale and dusty world.

Nikita, watching Kathy joyously hand out her gifts to the old soldiers and listen wide-eyed to their war-stories, found it fleetingly ironic that the child of a viscious war-monger and killer would be the one to comfort the victims of war.

Nikita also felt an emotion she did not often feel- a sense of pride in her work, and a knowledge that her actions on behalf of Section had prevented this hospital from being more filled with casualties than it already was.

She was filled with new resolve, seeing the results of what weapons could do to human beings- maiming, disabiling, destroying-so close up and personal as she met soldier after soldier that had been their victims.

Ferguson had to be stopped. He couldn't be allowed to sell more guns, more bombs, more death, more ruin. He had to be taken down.

Nikita just wished she didn't have to hurt Kathy in order to do that.

She bit her lip and linked her arm with that of her innocent target.

"Let's go in here," she said, steering Kathy toward Ward 4, where Michael was. "Maybe you'll find someone handsome enough to give that hideous duck to."

Kathy smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Works for me!" she said with a laugh. "And I still have lots of toothpaste yet...."

The lively brunette winked. "Think we'll get lucky?"

Nikita forced a laugh. She hated deceiving her new friend, but there was no choice. It had to be done.

"Of course," she lied with a smile. "I have a feeling this is your lucky day."

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

They swung through the double doors of Ward 4 and the conquest began again. The room was large and sunny, and somehow not depressing, even though it was painted a pale, drab green. Beds lined the walls, twenty in all, most occupied by the now familiar assortment of soldiers- some few middle-aged, most old, and a small percentage of heart-breakingly young victims of the latest battle, the Gulf War.

From the far corner of the room, Michael lay on his hospital bed and watched as Kathy and Nikita made their rounds. Nikita looked beautiful, dressed youthfully in casual jeans, turtleneck, and jacket, her hair in braids. She was smiling, full of charm and life, as she flirted with the old men in an affectionate, teasing manner, so reminiscent, to Michael, of her familiar bantering with Walter.

His face softened. *My sweet angel of mercy* he thought silently to himself. *Have pity on a poor, war-scarred soldier like me...*

He forced himself to pull his eyes away from Nikita to get a good look at their target. Kathy looked even younger than he had expected, with her wide-eyed, innocent expression as she listened raptly to the old soldiers' tales.

She seemed less like a woman and almost like a little girl as she blushed and shyly handed out her offerings to each soldier in turn. He saw how each old soldier's face brightened under the warmth of her sweet, child-like attention.

He too, like Nikita, felt remorse at having to use her. But it had to be done.

At last, the visitors worked their way around the room to the very last bed at the end of the ward where Michael lay. Kathy, turning from his ward-mate's bedside, looked up into his green eyes and stopped in her tracks. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Tousled auburn curls framed a face of almost angelic strength and beauty. His eyes were his most compelling feature, clear gray-green, with a light in them that was somehow both tender and fierce at the same time.

Although younger and seemingly less physically damaged than the rest of the men, this man seemed to fit in well with his compatriots here. Kathy sensed somehow that this was a brave man, a man who, like the others, had given his all in battle, had fought for and had been willing to die for a cause, a man who had made many sacrifices.

In short, a Hero. A Prince Charming. He seemed almost unreal in his beauty, as if he had stepped out of a fairy-tale, or a fantasy. *Am I dreaming?* she wondered.

"Oh!" Kathy could only gasp, standing open-mouthed and staring at him.

Michael sat up a little higher in bed and looked back at her. He gave her a slight nod of his head and a shy smile, which lit up the green eyes further. "Hello, he said softly.

From behind Kathy, Nikita shot Michael a look, and then pushed her roommate toward Michael's bed with an encouraging shove between the shoulder blades.

"Go on, talk to him," she whispered softly to Kathy, but loud enough for Michael to hear. "I'm sure he won't bite."

Kathy blushed prettily and at last found her voice, her words coming out in an embarrassed rush.

"Hi," she said back, looking up at Michael through lowered lashes. "We're from the Larkhill Women's Academy and we're visiting all the patients today...." she said a little breathlessly. "I'm Kathy and this is my friend, Nikita," she introduced them, still flustered.

The Prince bowed his head in acknowledgment. "You are both very kind, very generous young ladies," he said sincerely in his soft, almost seductive voice. "I'm glad to meet you..."

He held out his hand. "My name is Michael."

Kathy shook the proferred, warm hand hastily and said another shy, "Hi."

She stepped aside so that Nikita could grip the strong hand next. The blonde lay her hand in his, and let it linger there. The Hero carressed her fingers, and seemed disinclined to let go of them. Blue eyes met green, and Kathy noted how the fire in the green eyes flared brighter as he gazed at the beautiful blonde.

Kathy couldn't suppress an excited giggle. "I think he likes you," she whispered loudly to Nikita.

It was Nikita's turn to blush. She dropped Michael's hand hastily and stepped back. Then she bent down and plunged her hands in the large shopping bag at her feet and pulled out an armful of goodies and dumped them gracelessy on the bed.

"For you," she said smiling to cover her embarrassment.

Michael nodded. "Thank you," he said in the soft, sincere voice again. He threw both women a smile and rummaged through the items on his lap- a magazine, a packet of combs, a small bottle of after-shave, a candy-bar, a pack of gum, and a plastic case containing a travel toothbrush and a small tube of tooth-paste.

He picked up this last item and held it up, looking pleased. The wattage of his smile increased to a dazzling level. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed gratefully. "It's just what I wanted!" he said, beaming at them.

Kathy gasped and darted a shocked look at Nikita. "Jeez, you were right!" she said to her friend, trying not to laugh.

Nikita smirked, and stifled her giggles. "Told you so," she whispered, leaning her head toward her roommates.

"Did I miss something?" Michael asked in feigned innocent confusion. He had been listening to their conversations the whole time, and was in on the joke.

"Uh.. no..." Kathy said, covering them. "It's just a... a...."

She blanked out, staring first uncomfortably at Michael who watched her expectantly and then looked pleadingly at Nikita.

Nikita rescued her. "A girl-thing," the blonde responded quickly with an emphatic nod.

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

Kathy giggled. *Toothpaste! So that was the secret....* she thought.

She composed herself as she noticed that the beautiful green eyes had settled back on her again, still bright and curious. Kathy tried diversionary tactics.

"So, Michael," she blurted out breathlessly, "Have you been here in the hospital long? How are you feeling? Will you get to go home soon?"

Michael paused and then began answering the bombardment of questions.

"I've only been here a few days," he said, answering her first question first. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and rubbed his hand down his left thigh, massaging it slowly through the thin blanket. He sighed and Kathy thought she saw a flicker of something -pain? anxiety? fear? - cross his face.

"My leg's been bothering me a lot lately," he told the women solemnly. "I was shot three separate times in almost the same spot..." He shook his head, and looked up at his visitors with a rueful smile. "Can you believe it?"

"Really?" said Nikita sympathetically. "That is hard to believe."

The operatives exchanged a look. Nikita knew Michael was telling the truth. In their line of work, being shot was just one of the many dangers they faced each time they were on a mission.

Kathy was impressed, both with the fact that this soldier had been wounded in more than one battle, and with his courageous attitude toward his injuries.

"Wow," she said softly, in awed admiration. "You must be very brave."

She put her hand impulsively on his shoulder and patted him sympathetically. Kathy felt her compassion for this heroic soldier welling up inside her, and wished there was some way for her to help- cigarettes and toothpaste seemed so paltry a way to repay him for his sacrifices.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Michael?" she asked fervently. "Is there anything you need?"

Michael looked up into the face of his ardent young admirer. Everything was going as planned. The generous and impressionable Kathy was playing right into their hands.

Michael steeled himself for what was to come.

"Yes," he said with another sweet smile that captivated his target still further. "There is something you can do for me....."

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

"Yes, there is something you can do for me.."

The petite brunette's eyes widened. "What? Tell me..." she urged him.

Michael leaned closer and went on in a conspiratorial whisper. "I haven't been here that long, but I'm starting to go stir-crazy in here..."

He nodded his head, and the auburn curls fell charmingly around his face. "I feel like I'm in prison or something...."

He looked up pleadingly into Kathy's soft brown eyes. "Can you help me get out of here?" he begged. "Just for a little while? Maybe for a walk on the grounds?"

Kathy could identify immediately with Michael's feelings- after all, she was out on a jail-break of her own. She smiled in delight and was at once filled with firm determination. Nothing and nobody was going to stop her from springing her handsome hero-- she was going to get Michael out of there.

She glanced quickly up at Nikita. "Can you check the hall and see if it's clear of nurses?" she whispered to her friend.

"Sure," Nikita said, with a nod and a smile. She exchanged another look with Michael over Kathy's head and then went to the door.

Meanwhile, Kathy spotted a wheelchair shoved in a corner of the room and went to confiscate it for her patient. She wheeled it over with a flourish to the side of his bed and positioned it so that he would have little trouble, even with the bad leg, to get into it.

"Let's go," Kathy said, beaming.

Michael grinned and pulled back his bedcovers. He was dressed in a short faded blue hospital gown, and Kathy blushed and lowered her eyes, after having gotten a tantalizing view of long, lean legs and well muscled thighs.

As he struggled to manoueveur his legs over the side of the bed, Michael winced and Kathy heard him grunt in pain. He stopped to rest a moment before making the attempt to get in the chair.

He leaned toward the foot of his bed to retrieve his robe, and Kathy got a glimpse of a white scar on his left thigh peeking out from under the hem of his gown as it rode up higher with his movement.

"I'll get it," Kathy volunteered, and quickly snatched up the thin white terry cloth robe from the end of the bed and held it out for him to slip his arms through.

"Thank you," he said softly, and then let her help dress him. Kathy blushed again as she got another tantalizing view of smooth skin and well-defined muscles all along the length of his spine where the gown did not close completely in the back.

She couldn't help letting her eyes drift lower to admire the shapely magnificent curves below. *Wow* she thought. *Nice rear*

The glimpse was fleeting, as Michael shrugged into the robe and pulled it closed in front, then tied the sash in a knot at his waist. He looked up at his helper with an eager expression on his face and she held out her hand.

"Here.." she said, and Michael leaned heavily on her arm as he lowered himself carefully into the chair. When he was all the way in the seat, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

"O.K.?" Kathy asked, concerned.

Michael opened his eyes and smiled at her, more dazzlingly than before. "Yes," he said gratefully, and reached for her hand. Kathy froze at his touch. Without taking his eyes off hers, he brought the hand to his lips and kissed it.

"Thank you," he said in one sensuous breath.

Kathy felt her face grow warm as she blushed furiously once again. She was too flustered to even stammer out a reply. This man had a way of getting under all her defences. He was beautiful, desirable, brave, heroic, strong, and yet so vunerable.

There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. Especially if he kept looking at her that way....Suddenly Michael broke their locked gaze, staring at something behind Kathy's right shoulder.

The young student turned to look behind her and saw that Nikita had returned from her reconaissance mission.

"All clear," the blonde reported with a smile. She noted with a touch of sad amusement that it was obvious from Kathy's face that Michael had cast his spell again- the girl was totally entranced, totally charmed, and totally unexpecting of what would come next.

Nikita forced another smile and stepped behind the wheel chair and started to push Michael toward the door. "We're going to kidnap you now," she said to Michael, but she was looking at Kathy.

The brunette giggled. She nodded happily and fell in step with the others, walking beside the chair. They had only gone a short way when Kathy stopped suddenly in mid-stride.

"Just a minute," she said, and turned back to return to Michael's bed. She found what she was looking for- her now almost-empty shopping bag, depleted of all its treasures but one--- the ugly, hideous garish yellow duck.

Kathy smiled and gave the fuzzy animal another kiss on its neon-orange beak, and then tucked the toy in her jacket pocket.

"Ready!" she called smiling as she joined Michael and Nikita where they waited for her just inside the door. Nikita cracked open the door and gave the hall one more piercing search, and then, signaled that the coast was still clear.

The trio slipped out, making their escape.

Back in the ward, an old man near the door hooted and slapped his thigh. "Okay, pay up," he said grinning at his fellow ward-mates. "I TOLD you that boy could charm those girls outta here in less than five minutes...."

With some good-natured grumbling, the men laughingly agreed and reached for their wallets.

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

Out in the sunshine on the hospital grounds, Kathy laughed happily and gazed fondly at her companions. Behind her on the path, Nikita, blonde hair blowing in the breeze, still pushed Michael in his wheelchair. The sun had caught in his hair, turning the dark brown locks to fiery red-gold. He was relaxed and smiling, and Kathy felt a rush of joy at their joint achievement.

*We did it* she crowed to herself. *We broke out of jail*

She skipped, child-like in her delight, a few yards ahead, and twirled ina giddy circle on the path, enjoying the wild taste of freedom and the joy of being outside, unfettered and unsupervised by nurses, the Warden, or any authority figure of any kind.

She laughed outloud and turned to exult with her fellow escapees. "Is this cool, or what?" she gloated, spinning around to look at her friends.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Michael was no longer seated in the wheelchair, but was standing steadily on his own two feet, unassisted. Nikita stood next to him, a sad expression on her face.

"Kathy, I'm sorry," said her roommate softly. "We need you to come with us."

The brunette blinked in shock. She took a step back from them, suddenly chilled with fear.

"W-What?" she stammered, gazing from one to the other. The patient's green eyes glittered, their new coldness chilling her further. Where was the warm, friendly, charming soldier who was there just a few moments ago?

"Michael?" Kathy gasped, backing away further.

Michael pursed his lips in a grim line and stepped toward her, reaching out to grab her by the wrist.

Kathy yelped and managed to twist away before he got a good grip. With her heart pounding in her ears, the young girl whirled on her heel and sprinted blindly away from them, running down the wooded path.

She heard Michael's grim voice faintly behind her. "Target is fleeing west," he intoned solemnly. "Team Two, pursue," he ordered, adding, "Remember, we need her alive. Tranqs only."

Panting in fear, Kathy ran faster. From out of the trees on either side of her, two black-clad men appeared, guns drawn. They headed toward her, intent on her capture. Kathy choked back a scream and turned to run back the way she had come.

As she changed direction, she saw that Michael and Nikita were coming up behind her at a run, blocking her way of escape on the path.

She was trapped.

"No!" she screamed. "No!"

Though she knew it was futile, she had to make an attempt to stay free. She ran, veering sharply to her left, and plunged into the woods. She had only gone a few feet when she felt the sharp sting of a trang dart in the middle of her back.

She staggered and fell, sprawling to the ground. She was sobbing, still conscious, and trying to crawl away when Michael reached her.

He knelt beside her and brushed back a lock of tangled brown hair from her face as she lay helplessly looking up at him from the ground.

"I'm sorry," said the Hero softly, and lifted her gently in his arms.

His sad green eyes were the last thing she saw before she went limp, her head falling back on his shoulder as the world dissolved into blackness.

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

A needle had sent her into darkness, and now another brought her back up out of it. Kathy was aware first only of a sharp pain in her forearm; from there her awareness expanded, consciousness crashing back in, and, yanked abruptly out of the darkness, she jolted, completely and painfully, awake.

She groaned and opened her eyes, then shut them again as they were stabbed with glaring bright light. Slowly she blinked and looked around her.

The first thing she noticed was that she was strapped in a metal chair, tied down at both wrists and ankles, unable to move. Her panic rose higher and did not lessen when she looked up to see three pairs of eyes watching her.

The first two she recognized as Michael and Nikita, the former now dressed in black instead of the hospital gown and robe that she had seen him in last. Nikita had also changed, wearing a black dress and her hair up in a chignon instead of the youthful braids.

Both looked much more menacing and intimidating than they had earlier when they had pretended to be her friends. Kathy felt enraged at their duplicity, and found she didn't want to look at them, with their identical expressions of pity for her on their faces.

Kathy twisted in her chair and turned her head to look at the third kidnapper, for she had surmised that that is what the three of them must be. Her father had not been so paranoid after all. Obviously these were the people her father had been trying to protect her from.

She turned defiant eyes to the graceful, elegant brunette that stood smiling before her.

"Who are you bastards?" Kathy demanded angrily. "What do you want from me?"

The brunette gave a high tinkling laugh, obviously not offended by her prisoner's curses. "We are Section One," answered Madeleine, coming closer until she stood just a few steps away from Kathy.

"And you are here," she went on, reaching out a hand to stroke the young girl's smooth cheek, "to help us stop your father's terrorist activities."

Kathy flinched away from Madleine's touch, her anger flaring higher. "Terrorist?" she yelled. " What are you talking about?"

She shook her head in bewildered disgust. "My father's a business man; he buys and sells things......"

Madeleine remained as calm as ever following this outburst. "Yes, he does," she went on unperturbed. "He buys and sells weapons of war, to be exact...."

Kathy blinked. "You're crazy!" she gasped out. "I don't believe you..."

Madeleine's smile faded and her expression and voice grew stern. "It doesn't matter what you believe," she said with asperity. "You will still be the key to bringing him down."

Kathy blanched, and felt herself grow cold all over. She had been angry before, but now she was afraid. And not just for herself, but for her father as well. She knew better than to try to appeal to the implacable woman before her for mercy; she turned to Nikita instead.

"Please," she begged the blonde, who, despite her betrayal, Kathy sensed was still her friend. "Please don't let them hurt my father!"

Nikita sighed and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said softly, voice full of regret. "It has to be done."

"No...." Kathy whimpered, closing her eyes as the tears started and spilled down her face.

Madeleine gave a nod to Michael, and he approached the young girl, stepping behind her chair and laying his hands lightly on her shoulders.

Kathy trembled and tried to twist away from his grasp. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. For the young soldier she had so admired before she now had only a feeling of strong loathing. Michael did not release her, but instead he gripped her face in both hands, and tilted her head up, forcing her to look straight ahead.

She found herself staring directly into the lens of a video camera.

Madeleine began her voice-over narration while the camera recorded Kathy's tear-stained, frightened face, held helpless and immobile in Michael's firm grasp.

"As you can see, Mr. Ferguson," Madeleine began, "We have your daughter..."

She paused for the impact of the words to set in, and then took a breath and went on. "If you ever want to see your child alive again, I suggest you do exactly as we say..."

Kathy was crying in earnest now, the tears rolling down her face. Michael felt her trembling in his hands and felt her tears hot and wet on his fingers.

He clenched his jaw tightly, feeling grim disgust at the part he had to play in this drama. He hated having to hurt the innocent young prisoner who had done nothing to deserve this; her only crime was being related to their slime-ball target.

"Daddy.." the little one sobbed piteously. "Daddy....."

"You have twelve hours to surrender yourself to us," Madeleine continued her threat. "If you do not come to us by the end of that time...."

Madleine nodded again to Michael, and his grip tightened further as he jerked the girl's head sharply back. Kathy yelped in pain.

".... If you refuse," the cold-eyed woman concluded relentlessly, "You will never see your daughter alive again."

Madeleine paused and then gave a satisfied smile. "That should be sufficient," she stated complacently. "Send it."

"Of course," said Michael, gratefully releasing his victim, and stepping back from the chair with a relieved sigh.

Nikita turned her head away in disgust. Michael was right when he had said that sometimes their job was unbearable. She heard Michael's soft voice apologizing to their captive.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't enjoy hurting you."

Kathy's anger returned and she glared with tear-filled, blazing eyes from one kidnapper to the next. "Go to hell!" she cried at them, enraged.

Madeleine only smiled and gave a final order to her operatives. "Take her to Level 5. See that she gets settled in her quarters," she said, and turned on her heel and left the room.

Kathy flinched back as Michael approached her and lowered a black hood over her head.

Nikita released her from the chair and with a kidnapper holding her each by an arm, Kathy was led, blind and helpless, through the hallways until they reached another cold, sterile room where was locked in.

As the door to her cell closed ominously behind her, Kathy found herself feeling a longing for something she had never wanted before.

*I wish I was back at Larkhill* she thought fervently. *I wish I could see that wonderful Mrs. Mallory....*

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

In her cell, Kathy paced the small space, back and forth, back and forth. Except for the lack of windows, it was not unlike her room back at Larkhill- it was tiny, sparse, utilitarian, and claustrophobic.

There was a bed, a table, a chair, a small bathroom, and an even smaller closet. The girl had prowled the room restlessly for an hour or so when she had first arrived. Then she had paused to go take a shower and change into a new set of clothes she had found in the closet.

Now she had resumed her pacing again, her mind racing.

Although she realized it was a definite possibility, Kathy had no real fear that she would be killed. She was supremely confident that her father, always so capable and commanding, always so in control, would find a way to resolve the situation and set her free from her delusional kidnappers.

She shook her head in bewilderment. Why in the world did they think he was a terrorist? It seemed incomprehensible to her. Anyone who knew him would know her father was incapable of such a thing....

Or was he?

The uncomfortable truth hit Kathy that perhaps she didn't know her father that well herself. He had always been a cold man, a distant, private, person. She knew he could be relentless and unforgiving from some things he had told her about his business dealings.

But could he really be as cold and ruthless as they had said? Cold enough to deal in death...*NO!* she told herself sharply. *They're lying.* They're lying.*

A noise behind her made her jump, as she had jumped a thousand times before in her room in Larkhill. She heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and the door was pushed open. This time the person who entered uninvited was not the Warden, but Michael.

He stepped inside and closed the door shut behind him. He stood, hands clasped in front of him, with a solemn expression on his face.

"Hello," he greeted her softly.

Anger and disgust welling inside her, Kathy gave him one swift, contemptuous glance and then very deliberately turned her back to him, facing the wall.

"Get out," she said sharply, not looking at him. "I don't have anything to say to you."

She heard him approach her, heard his footsteps cross the room to come stand behind her. Then very lightly he placed his hand on her shoulder. Kathy stiffened.

"I don't want you to say anything," he said very gently. "I just want you to listen."

Kathy hissed out a breath and then whirled to face him. She was trembling with rage, her eyes blazing.

"Why in hell should I listen to you when everything you've told me so far is a lie?" she shouted angrily.

"You lied about being one of the soldiers in the hospital," she went on furiously. "You lied about not being able to walk. And you lied about my father..." she spat out.

Michael's green eyes gazed solemnly into hers. "No," he said quietly. "I didn't lie about your father."

Kathy sobbed in rage and lifted her hand to slap him. Michael held her by both wrists in a firm grip, easily stopping her. He pushed her back a few steps until she was up against against the wall, firmly pinned, and unable to struggle.

Kathy still fought him. She stared into his eyes, hers fiercely blazing. "Let.... me.. GO!" she demanded in frustrated rage.

The green eyes played softly over her face. "Not until you listen," he said softly, with infuriating calm.

Something in his voice made Kathy pause. A note of.... sadness? Regret, perhaps, that he was about to inflict more pain on her? Her anger quickly dissipated, to be replaced by a conflicting combination of feelings for this man- deep wariness and caution, and at the same time a deep desire to trust.

She took a deep breath, and held very still, looking up into the haunted green eyes. "O.K.," she capitulated breathlessly. "What is it you want to tell me?"

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

Michael released her wrists immediately, but did not step back. Before he moved away from her, he brushed the back of his hand very gently against her cheek in a soft-as-a-feather caress.

Kathy stood perfectly still, mesmerized. They stood together, gazes locked, for a long moment, then Michael finally dropped his hand and strode away from her, crossing the room to stand near the table.

Kathy watched curiously as he reached in his jacket pocket and brought out a small, oblong black device that he set upon the table.

"What is that?" she asked him, taking a hesitant step forward.

Michael looked up at her. "A holographic projector," he answered. "I just want you to watch this."

He slipped a small silver disk into the slot at the top of the machine, pressed a button, and the small room lit up with the sounds and 3D pictures of another place.

Kathy found herself immersed in images of a narrow street in Northern Ireland, alive and bustling with shoppers at the noonday hour. The air of her cell was filled with the sound of traffic noises and the murmur of lilting, Irish voices.

"What is this?" Kathy asked, bewildered, gazing across the images to look at Michael on the other side of the room.

"Your father's handiwork," he answered gravely.

Kathy shook her head, puzzled, and turned back to study the images once more.

Suddenly the street was transformed from the ordinary scene of hominess to one of horror and carnage.

Simulataneous bombs went off up and down the street in a chain reaction of fire and death. The windows of a tea shop blew out, scattering glass and debris and smoke onto the sidewalk. At the same time, several vehicles parked on the street exploded, bursting into flames that rose high into the sky.

People screamed and panicked, running through the narrow streets. The injured and dead lay scattered across the cobblestones; one man, his leg gone, torn from him in the blast, lay bleeding to death in the gutter.

Kathy paled, and felt her stomach wrench in sudden nausea. As she turned away from the horrible sight of this pathetic victim her eyes met a sight even more horrible- A school bus full of children, blazing and overturned on its side in the middle of the street.

The children's screams filled the air, and Kathy was almost grateful for the cloud of black smoke that enveloped the bus, obscuring the sight of these smallest and most vunerable of victims....

She gagged and collapsed on the cot, burying her face in her hands.

"Michael, please," she moaned. "Please, no more..."

Instantly the sounds stopped and the images faded; her room was again the quiet, tomb-like cell of before.

Gasping and trying not to wretch, Kathy lifted her head up and met Michael's gaze.

"Why?" she asked tightly, afraid of the answer, but knowing she must hear it. "Why did you show me this?"

"So you'll know what your father does," Michael answered tensely. "So you'll know why we will do anything to stop him."

He stepped toward her, and when he spoke his voice was full of compassion, but there was an element of hardness, too.

"Your father planned this attack," Michael went on. "Hundreds dead, hundreds more wounded, maimed, blinded...."

"No! No...." Kathy sobbed.

Michael cut her off sternly. "YES," he said sharply. "YES. Your father did this-- you have to face that."

He paced restlessly, twisting his hands nervously together in front of him.

"This attack was only one of many he has prchestrated over the years. His security is air-tight he had no weaknesses. We had no way to stop your father..." He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at her. "Until now."

Kathy burst into tears. "You're going to use me to get him to come to you," she sobbed brokenly. "Then you're going to kill him..."

Kathy had no choice but to accept the hard truth of what kind of man her father was- a cold-hearted killer. But he was still her father. She didn't want him to die.

"No, we won't kill him...." came Michael's startling reply.

Kathy looked up in shock as Michael went on. "....Not if he agrees to our demands. We'll use him to take down the entire terrorist web he deals with- his assosciates, the buyers and sellers, his contacts..."

The young girl on the bed gave a sigh of relief, and wiped her eyes. She looked up at her captor hopefully.

"Then, when he agrees to do what you want, you won't hurt him? And then you'll let me go?"

Michael looked away, his jaw clenching. Then he turned back to her, his eyes full of pain.

"No," he said hoarsely. "We won't let you go. You'll stay here, as insurance. We need you as leverage, to keep him in line."

Kathy gasped, feeling the walls of her small cell closing in on her. "No.." she whispered in soft despair. "No...."

"You'll be a prisoner here," concluded Michael, looking around the tiny, airless room.

"For how long?" the young girl cried out.

"I don't know," came the sad-voiced answer. "Probably for a long time." Michael lowered his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry," he said very softly.

Kathy stirred herself and stood up from the bed. She walked up to Michael and confronted him with yet another hard question.

"Why did you show me that.. that..." she gestured toward the disk player. "Why?"

Michael put his hand gently on her shoulder again. "Because I thought it would help you endure your imprisonment better if you understood its purpose..."

His eyes had a faraway look and Kathy sensed he was also speaking as much to himself as he was to her.

He turned back to look at her. "Your presence here saves lives," he declared gravely. "You have to hold on to that."

Kathy stood stunned and overwhelmed by emotion. Her anger was gone, replaced by an even more painful sorrow. Her tears returned, and new sobs shook her. She turned to the only source of comfort that remained in her universe- Michael.

Instinctively she buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him, desperately crying.

Michael paused for a moment, holding perfectly still. Then his arms came up around her and he enveloped the sobbing young girl in his embrace. He rested his head on hers and closed his eyes, rocking her.

She felt his tears wet her hair as he held her, and knew his sorrow was as deep as her own.

The two stood like that for a long time, inmates comforting each other in the prison called Section One.

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

Nikita was lounging near Birkoff's station, looking over his shoulder and munching idly on her gum, when the encoded message from Ferguson came in. Michael had been hovering nearby, pacing nervously, ever since he had come back from visiting Kathy a few hours ago.

Everyone had been on closed quarters standby, so Systems was more crowded than usual; several operatives, including Walter, were loitering in the open space of Section's main staging area, impatiently waiting for Ferguson to take the bait.

Now the waiting was over.

"Sir, we have incoming," announced Birkoff in a crisp, excited voice.

"On my way," came Operations' swift, if curt reply.

The crowd around the computer genius' station became instantly alert. Michael went to lean over the young Birkoff's shoulder and look at the screen- there was nothing to see yet- The message was still down-loading.

Nikita straightened from her chair and stood up, going to stand just behind Michael. She was glad it was almost over; Ferguson would give himself up and Kathy, the innocent in all this, would no longer be under a death-sentence.

She tried to catch Michael's eye, but he was still absorbed in his contemplation of the still empty computer screen. Nikita knew he was as anxious for this mission to be over as she was.

The crowd parted as both Operations and Madeleine swiftly converged from two different directions to meet at Birkoff's station.

"What do we have, Birkoff?" Operations demanded, striding into Systems. He cast a quick glance at Madeleine who joined him at his side.

The young computer genius looked up at them and vacated his chair, letting Operations take his place.

"It's a recorded message, not a live feed," cautioned Birkoff. "You won't be able to interact with him."

Madeleine tilted her head and looked surprised. "You mean, Ferguson just sent us a statement and logged off?"

The young man nodded. "That's what it looks like."

Michael frowned. He had a bad feeling about this. "Why wouldn't he stay on line to receive instructions?"

Nikita looked scared. "I don't understand. Wouldn't Ferguson want to at least talk to Kathy? To make sure she was all right?"

Operations dismissed their speculations with a wave of his hand. "Enough," he ordered sharply. He looked over his shoulder at Birkoff.

"Play the tape, dammit," he said impatiently.

"Yessir." Birkoff tapped the keyboard and the screen came to life.

A dour-faced, dark-eyed man in his forties stared back at them from the monitor. His face was lean, with deep frown lines around his thin mouth. There was nothing soft or warm about this face, thought Nikita, shuddering. No tender expression in those eyes- there was nothing but utterly cold determination.

She felt a chill of apprehension go through her as Ferguson began to speak.

"Section One," the terrorist sneered in contempt. "You thought you would defeat me," he began harshly. "You thought you could bring me down with your cowardly attack on my daughter."

Ferguson's mouth tightened and Nikita saw that he was barely keeping in his rage.

"But you will not succeed," the killer went on. "You thought to break me, to get me under your thumb, by your lies and your tricks..."

Ferguson shook his head. "But I am not as stupid as you think I am..."

The dark eyes flashed and Kathy's father raised his voice to shout out his rage.

"You are my deadly enemy," he ranted. "You have no honor. There is no truth to what you have shown me; there is no chance that you will keep your word..."

"Oh, God," breathed Michael, going pale with dread. "Oh, God, no..."

"Sh*t," swore Operations. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, knowing with certainty what would come next.

On the screen, Ferguson had leaned closer to the camera, and his maniacal face filled the screen, his eyes dark with an almost insane expression of radical fervency. Nikita recognized it as the same look she had seen on many faces in her years in Section One- the face of the terrorist caught up in the Jihad, the Holy War, the Cause that took precedence over everthing else, even their very lives or the lives of their families....

She held her breath, and felt her stomach tighten in fear. *Kathy* she thought, anguished. *Oh, Kathy....*

Ferguson lifted his chin proudly. "I know my daughter is already dead," he declared savagely. "And the way I will honor her sacrifice is to go on fighting, stay free, and continue the struggle for Justice against the Oppressors."

He cast them one last triumphant look, and then the screen went blank.

There was a breathless quiet in the large room, as the reality sank in. Their mission had failed.

Michael felt numb. He ran a hand restlessly over his chin, fearing what would come next.

He didn't have long to wait. Madleine turned to look at him and the beautiful blonde beside him, fixing them both with her stare.

"Michael, Nikita," she ordered in a tone as cold and determined as Ferguson's had been, "In my office. NOW."

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

The day wore on, became night, ended, and another day began. In her windowless room deep underground in the bowels of Section, Kathy had lost track of time. It seemed like weeks since she had been there.

The endless hours crawled slowly by; the only thing to punctuate the unrelieved boredom was her sudden bolts of fear and anxiety. Kathy had gone through several long crying jags, each leaving her more exhausted and drained than the one before. Between jags she sat limply on her cot, feeling numb.

After this last bout, she had at last managed to fall fitfully asleep. She was having a nightmare about children dying on a Belfast street when the sound of the door opening awakened her. Gratefully, she jolted upright and rubbed her eyes as the door swung open.

A grim-faced Michael entered, followed by an equally hollow-eyed Nikita. If Kathy didn't know better, she would have suspected that both operatives had been indulging in tears at least as much as she had.

She scrambled off the bed and greeted her visitors with genuine gladness.

"Hi," she said shyly, looking from one to the other. "What's going on?"

Michael only gave her a blank stare, his back stiff. Nikita would not meet her eyes. The blonde held out a garment and shoved it toward the prisoner.

"Here," she ordered. "Put this on."

Kathy took it from her obediently and noted that it was her own coat, the one she was wearing when they had taken her at the hospital.

Kathy shrugged into the jacket meekly and then looked up at Michael. "What's going on?" she asked again, this time with a little trepidation.

Michael held the door open wider and stood to one side. He jerked his head toward the hallway outside. "Let's go," he said tensely.

Kathy's eyes widened. "I don't understand," she said in confusion. "Am I free?" the young girl asked hopefully.

Nikita bit her lip hard. Kathy was leaving Section all right, but she would not be going free.

Earlier in her office, Madeleine had ordered Nikita and Michael to cancel Kathy personally.

Nikita closed her eyes, remembering the moment. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had voiced her immediate protest.

"Don't you want to even TRY to get Ferguson again?" the angry blonde demanded. "You could send him video of Kathy, with proof of the date. Then he would know she was alive..."

Madeleine had been firm. "Ferguson has made up his mind, Nikita," she went on grimly. "He has convinced himself his daughter is dead, and nothing will persuade him differently."

Michael knew it was futile, but he had to make the attempt. Madeliene, in her own way, was as proud and as stubborn as Ferguson was.

"If we presented his daughter to him in person, he would have to believe..." he began.

Madeleine shook her head. "No, Michael," she denied. "It won't work. Ferguson will still believe it is some trick on our part."

The auburn-haired beauty sighed and repeated her order. "Ferguson expects a dead daughter, so we will give him a dead daughter...."

She fixed them both with her stare. "Kill her."

Nikita gasped. "Madeleine, please..."

Michael stopped her from saying more by touching her lightly on the arm. Nikita looked up at him, and he gave the slightest shake of his head, as if to warn her not to say anything further.

Nikita reluctantly subsided, realizing Michael was right. Madeleine was becoming impatient and angry with them, her obvious frustration at the failure of the mission taking its toll on the Section's Chief Strategist's nerves.

"Naturally I want it done in the discreetest way possible," Madeleine had continued. "The story of a kidnapping will draw too much attention."

She sighed again and went on. "On the other hand, there would be nothing remarkable about a story of a rebellious young girl who runs away from her strict school, and is later found to have died in a tragic car accident."

Michael swayed on his feet, and closed his eyes, struggling to keep down the contents of his stomach. *Merde* he thought. *Merde, merde, merde....*

Nikita swallowed hard, and tried again. "Madeleine, are you sure..." she began.

"Yes, I'm SURE," the brunette hissed out. "You have your orders. I want it done by the end of the day tomorrow, is that CLEAR?"

Michael answered for them both in a trembling voice. "Yes, very clear," he said softly.

He took a numb Nikita gently by the arm and led her from the room. Madeleine glared at their backs as they left, her eyes never leaving them until they had dissappeared through the doorway.

As soon as they were out in the corridor outside Madeleine's office, Nikita turned to Michael. "Can't we do something?" she begged, looking up into his face with pleading eyes. "She's so young," she choked out, referring to Kathy. "She's just a kid..."

Michael gripped her hand and looked away, his eyes becoming suspiciously bright. "I'll see what I can do, Nikita," he said softly.

"Michael?" Nikita had looked up at him with hopeful eyes, but he would not tell her anymore.

"I have work to do," he said grimly, and strode away from her.

Nikita had clung to that shred of hope that Michael had offered her. It was the only thing that kept her from bursting out into tears now as she watched Kathy look up at them with trusting eyes and ask if she was free.

Nikita found herself choked up and unable to answer.

Michael took the young girl by the arm and propelled her toward the door. "We're going for a ride," he stated flatly, his expression blank.

*Oh, no* thought Nikita, her heart sinking. *Oh, no....*

Kathy interpreted his statement differently. "Kewl!" she declared happily, and linked her arms with her rescuers as they went out the door.

She was still smiling between the grim-faced operatives when they emerged from the underground prison of Section into the cold daylight and made their way toward the waiting car.

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

"But.. But this is MY car!" Kathy said in surprise in the parking lot as Michael unlocked and held open the door of a small red sedan.

She turned bewildered eyes up to Michael, then gazed quickly at Nikita.

"What's going on?" the teenager asked uneasily, suddenly feeling somehow less than secure in the situation, bu not knowing exactly what it was that bothered her about the scenario, just that something did.

"Get in and drive," said a grim-faced Michael tersely, holding out the keys to her.

"Okay," she capitulated, with a shrug of her shoulders. Maybe when they were on the road, Michael would relax a little and break down and tell her what was going on, she speculated.

She slid behind the wheel and Michael and Nikita went to the passenger side of the car and got in, he in the front seat, she in the back.

When they were seated with the doors closed and their seat belts on, Kathy started the engine and backed slowly out of the parking space. It had been a long time since she had driven, and she was determined to be careful and show her friends that she was a capable driver and could be trusted.

It was the car her father had given her for her last birthday; unfortunately, she had not been able to enjoy her present much- basically, she had driven it to Larkhill when she arrived at the school and then had left it parked in a lot near near the dorm; Mrs. Mallory having strict ules about students having access to such easy and tempting means of escape as their own personal automobiles.

"Where to?" Kathy asked her silent passengers as she reached the exit to the parking lot.

"Turn left," Michael ordered.

Kathy swiveled the wheel, obeying him, and eased gently into traffic.

The ride continued, no one saying anything, except for Michael's occasional terse directions. If Kathy was tense, Nikita was even more so.

The blonde rubbed her forehead repeatedly, trying to ease the huge headache that assailed her temples, as if someone was banging on her brain from the inside.

*We're going to end up killing her, after all.* thought Nikita to herself in despair. *God, I don't know if I can do this.*

Michael had directed Kathy onto the freeway, and as the car sped on, Kathy realized they were returning the way they must have come.

She glanced sharply at Michael in the seat beside her, noting that he was staring blankly ahead and that his black-gloved hands were clasped together in his lap, as he twisted them nervously.

"This is the way back to the school," Kathy commented apprehensively. "To Larkhill...."

"We're not going back to your school," said Michael hoarsely, not looking at her. "We'll be stopping before then."

"Where?" asked the young driver, a frisson of anxiety running chillingly up her spine.

"Just take the next exit," Michael intoned solemnly.

Kathy licked her lips nervously, flicked on her blinker light, and obeyed.

Both women gasped at once as they saw the sign for where the car had turned off.

"But.. But you're taking us to the cliffs, Michael...." Kathy protested. "The roads up here are really dangerous- narrow and winding, and the last time I was here, there weren't even any guard-rails.."

She turned to him in alarm. "I don't know if my driving skills are good enough for these kind of conditons..." she said anxiously.

"Lots of people get killed on this road," she whispered fearfully. "It's deadly...."

Michael glanced quickly at Nikita in the back seat, a vast sorrow flickering briefly in his eyes. Then he turned to stare at the young girl beside him, his face an unreadable blank once more.

"Just be quiet and drive," he said softly.

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

"Faster," ordered Michael, as the car sped along the narrow curves.

They had reached almost to the highest point of the mountain. Once past this point, the car's engine no longer strained under the effort to climb the steep grade; now the young driver's task was to keep the vehicle from plummeting downhill, like a rollercoaster car out of control.

The petite brunette gripped the wheel and swallowed hard, every nerve tense, every fiber of her being alert and on guard, as the adrenaline rush of fear flooded her senses. This road was challenging her unpractised skills and reflexes to the limit.

Kathy took her foot completely off the gas and tapped her brakes. She contemplated the gears, wondering if she should put on her emergency brake to slow the car further. Gravity was pulling them swiftly down, the car picking up speed alarmingly as it slid down the almost vertical slope.

"Don't slow down," Michael shouted at her tensely. "Faster!"

"Michael, please!" Kathy sobbed, barely keeping the car upright on four wheels as they rounded a curve. "Please, let me pull over!" she begged for what seemed the hundreth time. In the back seat, Nikita held on, bracing herself agianst the seat, wondering if Michael ahd gone crazy and was planning on killing them all.

"Not yet," came his terse answer to Kathy's plea. "At the NEXT curve...."

"What?" said the young girl in shock. "What do you mean?"

"Just do what I tell you," he said in a clipped tone, concentrating his gaze intensely on the road.

His next order surprised them.

"Undo your seatbelts," he said tersely, fitting actions to words. He unbuckled his own and helped Kathy with hers, then turned to the back seat to see that Nikita had obeyed him.

Kathy felt like screaming. She wanted to flail her fists at Michael, to yell at him, but she dared not vent her feelings- she needed every ounce of emotional strength to keep the hurtling car under control as it sped ever faster down the steep cliffside.

"Open your doors NOW," shouted Michael.

Kathy gasped. "Are you completely out of your mind?" she yelled back angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"

Michael ignored her protest and glanced tensely up at the road. The timing had to be perfect. There was no margin for error.

"I said NOW!" he yelled again.

In the back seat, Nikita recognized with a jolt what he was doing, and moved to help him with his scheme.

She leaned over the seat behind the young driver and unlocked her door, then lifted the handle and pushed it open. Wind whipped and howled into the car, sending blonde hair and brown curls flying, the sound almost deafening in their ears.

Kathy was sobbing openly now, gasping out little screams of terror. Beside her Michael shifted and got into position, readying himself to jump.

He looked up at the road and knew the moment had come.

"GO! GO! GO!" he yelled over the deafening noise of the wind. Kathy looked up to see him leap toward her; at the same time from behind her, Nikita did the same.

Kathy was too numb to scream as she felt the two passengers lift her, grip her by the jacket and push her from the car. The trio went hurtling together through the door; Kathy felt herself flying freely for one sickening moment unsupported through empty space.

*I'm dying* I'm dying* I'm dying* I'm dying* I'm dying* she thought, closing her eyes and letting go, her body surrendering, going completely limp.

The fall downward seemed to last a lifetime, but was actually over in a matter of seconds. The landing came, and a corner of Kathy's stunned mind registered with surprise the unexpected softness of the impact.

She opened her eyes and realized she was being held firmly against Michael's broad chest, his arms around her protectively. Kathy realized as well that another pair of arms sheltered her from behind- Nikita had pressed her body to the young girl's back and was holding her as tightly as Michael was, both of them shielding her from the impact of the jarring fall. The world was still spinning, however, as they rolled tangled together down a slope, tumbling, tumbling, limb over limb, ever downward, over and over.

At last the rollercoaster ride came to a halt, and the three lay panting in the blessed stillness, breathless but unhurt.

"Ohhhh," Kathy groaned, wriggling out from between her protectors and collapsing dizzily to the side on the soft ground.

She was lying near the bottom of a pile of soft, yellow sand, that rose high in the sky in a obviously man-made, carefully angled incline.

She realized that the three of them had landed in one of the run-away truck embankments that were spaced here and there on the steep road. The saftey features were positioned off on the shoulder just beyond the tighest of the road's curves, providing truckers with an alternative place to go beside over the edge of the cliff to a fiery death below- the truckers could plow into the soft mound of uphill sand, and stop themselves, living to drive this road anther day.

Wide-eyed, Kathy caught her breath and stared at Michael and Nikita sprawled across the sand behind her. She was relieved to be alive, but she was still angry and enraged at Michael, and his inexplicable recklessness and insanity.

She scrambled to her feet, and peeked cautiously over the edge of the road jsut a few feet away. Far below, on the barren mountain side, her shiny red car lay like a broken toy, crumpled and smashed, flames rising from it in billowing waves of black smoke.

Kathy gasped and felt her rage returning. "What were you trying to do, Michael?" she shouted angrily. "Did you want to get us all killed?" she demanded, eyes blazing.

Michael gave her an infuriating smile and stood up, dusting yellow sand off his black suit. He held out his hand to Nikita and helped the blonde to her feet. Then he turned back to answer Kathy's rhetorical question.

"No, he said, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I didn't want to get us all killed." He paused, and smiled wider. "Just you," he added.

"You wanted to kill... ME?" Kathy gasped, taking a wary step back from him.

Michael nodded, and peered over the side of the cliff edge at the disintergrated, blazing car below. He grinned at Nikita and she, to Kathy's surprise, grinned back.

"Looks like you did a good job, Michael," Nikita commented happily.

Michael smiled wryly. "Yes, I did." He gazed softly at the pretty young girl who stood staring at him in bewilderment.

"You're dead now, Kathy," he stated with a grin. "At least, OFFICIALLY you are, anyway."

The young girl stared at him as if he was out of his mind as she had first supposed, then comprehension dawned. Michael had orchestrated her escape, her rescue from Section One.

He was the Hero, the brave Knight, that she had always suspected him of being from the first moment they had met.

She let out a scream, but this time not in fear- she whooped in delight and went running toward Michael and Nikita again, and threw herself back into their arms.

The trio went tumbling down on the soft sand again, as Kathy did her best to hug and kiss them both at once in puppy-like enthusiasm and glee.

Over the noise of the crackling blaze of the wreck's inferno, the sound of the three friends' riotous laughter echoed joyously through the mountain air.

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

One week later, a pretty, dark-eyed young student that now called herself Brenda Miles locked the door to her dorm room with her own key and went whistling down the hallway of the co-ed dorm.

She pushed open the unlocked door at the exit and walked outside, heading off toward the center of campus to meet her new friends at the local hang-out spot, Papa Bear's Pizza.

No Warden stopped her and inquired as to where she was going. No prying eyes watched her every move, no security guards accompanied her outing.

She knew she would not have to be in bed by ten o'clock that night, unless, of course, she wanted to be. It was entirely up to her. Her decisions were now just that- HER decisions. Sometimes that was a little scary, being responsible for herself, the girl, who used to be known as Kathy Ferguson, thought. But she found her new adult freedoms here at the State University much less frightening than her bout of stifling, regimented captivity at Larkhill had been.

And, of course, it was infinitely preferrable to being buried alive in the dungeon of Section One.

Thanks to Michael, she was free. He had arranged it so that her father and Section One both believed she was dead, and he had set up a new life for her here at the University. The future lay open and brilliant ahead of her, full of endless promise and possibilities.

She paused in her walk to close her eyes and send a grateful thought his way. "Thank you, Michael," she said like a prayer under her breath. "You'll always be my Prince...."

Then she sighed contentedly and hurried on to meet her friends.

Back in Section, the Prince looked up from his computer in his office as his door opened and Nikita burst in.

"Michael, do you have a minute?" the blonde asked, casting a pointed glance at his desk where she knew he kept his surveillance jamming equipment.

"Come in," Michael invited, and punched a code in on the pad that would ensure them a few moments privacy.

Nikita perched on the edge of his desk and leaned over, smiling warmly at him. "How's she doing?" she asked with an impish grin.

A small smile curved the Hero's lips. He knew Nikita was referring to Kathy.

"She's fine," he answered, keeping his reply cautiously worded. "We have complete closure."

His smile widened at the thought of his last surreptitiously obtained intel on Kathy. She would have the full and happy, and FREE, life that she deserved.

"No, not quite," Nikita replied shockingly.

"What do you mean?" asked Michael, feeling a little alarmed. "We don't have closure?"

Nikita stood up, and walked around the desk to stand by his side.

"No, there's something else," she told him, struggling to keep a straight face. She had the sudden urge to burst out laughing at Michael's wide-eyed discomfort.

She didn't leave him hanging in anxiety for long. "It's not over until I do one more thing," she announced.

"What's that?" inquired Michael, swiveling in his chair and looking up at her anxiously. He was sure he had remembered everything.... What loose end could there be?

Nikita grinned and plunged her hand into one of her deep coat pockets. She pulled out a garish yellow object from its depths and held the fuzzy aquatic creature to her cheek.

It was the ugly duck that Kathy had purchased at the V.A. Hospital a while back, it's bright button eyes staring goofily at Michael.

"I promised Kathy I would give you this," smirked Nikita. She planted a hard smack on the duck's garish orange beak and held it out to the man in the chair.

"For you," she said softly.

Michael smiled and took the ugly toy from her, holding it gently in his palms. "Thank you," he said, looking down at the hideous stuffed creature in his lap.

To his surprise, he felt Nikita's lips press quickly against his own in a soft, brief, but sweetly meaningful kiss.

He looked up at her with a question in his eyes. "What was that for?" he blurted out.

Nikita laughed and walked to the door. "Kathy was right," she said saucily as she pulled open the door and made to leave. "You ARE the cutest soldier we found..."

She blew him a kiss and then was gone, shutting the door behind her.

Michael leaned back in his chair and laughed.

Happily, his heart glowing warmly, the Knight slipped the cherished token of his fair ladies' favor into his pocket and then turned back to his desk and resumed his work.

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