"Listen up, Bozo," Nikita hissed in his face. "Experiments are OVER.."

She let him go with a shove, and the doctor staggered back, cowering away from her.

"Go see Mendez in the research lab," she told him coldly. "He just figured out that it’s not a blood-borne disease…."

The doctor’s eyes lit up. He’s got an etiology?" he gasped eagerly.

Nikita nodded. "That’s right," she told him.

The doctor beamed, and nearly knocked Nikita over in his haste to leave the room, racing down the corridor to join his colleague in his research.

Nikita didn’t spare him a second glance, but turned back to cross the room to the shaken girl on the bed. Nikita began working the straps loose, freeing her from her bonds, and helping her sit up.

"Thank you," Andie breathed, exhaling a sigh of relief, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and unsteadily stood up. She gripped Nikita urgently by the arm. "How’s Michael?" she asked anxiously, her eyes wide with fear. "They wouldn’t tell me anything…"

The blonde looked at her, her eyes softening. "The same," Nikita told her gently.

"Please, can I see him?" Andie begged, tears starting in her eyes.

"Yeah," Nikita told her huskily. She was not about to deny this woman access to the man they both cared for. Andie deserved to spend time at Michael’s bedside, Nikita thought, just as much as she did. Nikita only hoped there would be more time left for him, and that these precious few moments they would spend at his bedside would not be the last ones they had together.

Nikita put her arm around Andie’s shoulders. "C’mon," she said warmly. "We’ll go together…"

Andie looked up at her gratefully, and then slowly, silently, both too choked with tears to speak, the women made their way out the door.

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

Still clinging to each other for support, Andie and Nikita traveled the short distance down the hallway to the isolation ward. The cold glass doors and even colder white walls were guarded by a weary looking Med-tech in green scrubs. The nurse, a short blonde woman, was pale and exhausted, but managed to greet them with a sad smile, despite her fatigue.

"Hi, Nikita," she said softly, recognizing her from previous visits to Michael’s bedside.

"Hi, Sherri," Nikita returned. "How is he?" she asked tensely.

Sherri shook her head, her eyes tearing up. Nikita’s blood ran cold. Beside her, Andie let out a sharp gasp and staggered forward.

"No…." the young girl cried. "He’s not…." She choked out, unable to finish her sentence.

Sherri assured her quickly, "No, he’s not gone, but he is worse…." The nurse sobbed and looked away. "We’ve lost three more in the last hour, and I’m afraid Michael might be next….."

Nikita took in a sharp breath, feeling like she had just been kicked in the stomach. "Oh, God…." she moaned.

Andie blanched. "We want to see him…" she demanded urgently, looking longingly at the glass doors to the ward, behind which her lover lay dying.

Sherri nodded wearily, and stood aside to let them pass, holding the door to the ward open for them.

"He’s the fourth bed on the right," she told them, pointing.

Together, the women hurried down the passage. On either side of the corridor they entered were screened alcoves, each narrow enclosure containing a hospital bed, each with its still occupant. The patients’ idle immobility seemed offset by the frantic activity of the machinery they were attached to, as the ventilators continuously pumped air into useless lungs with noisy industry.

Nikita’s heart wrenched for the quiet, almost corpse-like victims, and then nearly stood still when she reached the alcove that was Michael’s. Even though she had steeled herself for this moment, she found she was not prepared for the sight of him like this.

His color had worsened since she had seen him last, his skin almost pale gray, hardly darker than the white sheets that covered him like a shroud. His dark hair that stood out in stark relief to his unrelenting paleness was matted with sweat, strands clinging to his noble forehead. The beautiful green eyes were tightly closed, and Nikita flinched at the thought that came unbidden to her mind, that he may never open them again.

She trembled and swayed on her feet, gripping the foot-board of his hospital bed to steady herself.

Beside her, Andie let out a low cry of pure pain. "Michael…." She moaned, overcome at this sight of such a strong man made helpless. "Michael…"

She had to touch him, had to feel him, just to assure herself he was alive. With this overwhelming need driving her, Andie rushed past Nikita to stand at the side of the bed, and took Michael’s hand in hers. It felt cold, his fingers that had so recently and skillfully danced warm and delicate over her body, now lay limp and unresponsive in hers.

Sobbing, her tears blinding her, Andie lifted her hand to Michael’s face, and stroked his pale cheek, her fingertips reading his face like the pages of a book in Braille. Again, he felt cold to her, as if the soul in him had already retreated to some faraway, better place, more hospitable than this heavy, cold body that lay so stilly on the bed.

"Michael…" Andie wailed again, her tears flowing freely now. Instinctively, she leaned down to embrace him, wanting urgently to impart some of her warmth to him, and perhaps to capture the wayward , escaping soul before it fled its useless prison.

She was hampered by the lines and equipment he was hooked up to, particularly the breathing tube that ran down his throat and was taped in place across his beautiful, sensitive-lipped mouth. Still, Andie sought to kiss him, lowering her face to his.

Watching numbly from the foot of the bed, Nikita did nothing to prevent this desperate, possibly last, caress. She could tell Andie was not trying to dislodge the breathing equipment, and that her movements were slow and gentle, her touch tender, as if in final farewell. Andie’s lips brushed Michael’s forehead, then his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw where she could reach, raining kisses on him, even as her tears flowed like rain over his face, warming his coldness with her harsh sobs.

Nikita closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of so much pain. Andie’s sorrow seemed to magnify her own, at the same time eased it, for being shared. Her heart tore in two, and she felt her soul scream inside her, protesting the wrenchingly sharp agony of their approaching loss.

Then, suddenly, a shrill chorus of loud screaming wails sounded with her own, and Nikita’s eyes flew open in shock.

The monitors had all flared to life, sounding their strident warnings. Michael no longer lay still on the bed, but was bucking and convulsing as his whole body jerked in a final death dance. Andie let out a scream, as Michael’s breath rattled his throat, and he gasped and choked for air, his hands coming up to claw at the tube in his throat, thrashing violently.

Andie refused to let him go. "No, Michael!" she screamed. "Don’t leave me! No….." Her hands clutched at him, and Nikita, moving as if in a trance, numbly approached the hysterical girl, hauling her away from the bed, and out of the way, as the Medteam nurses swarmed into the alcove in response to the monitors warnings, and immediately began working over Michael’s body.

Andie fought to be free, still screaming. Nikita dragged her several feet down the hallway, and then stopped, holding he shuddering girl in her arms. Andie subsided into broken sobs on Nikita’s shoulder.

As she stood comforting Andie as best she could, Nikita closed her eyes, and let out a harsh sob of her own.

A horrid realization stabbed through her in that moment.

"Dear Jesus," she prayed, "I didn’t get to say good-bye….."

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

Nikita stood in the hallway sobbing, holding Andie in her arms as the two wept out their fierce grief together. Nikita tried not to listen to the sounds coming from the Meb-bay alcove just a few feet beyond them. She wanted to shut out the disturbing, terrifying siren wails of the monitors, and the frantic voices of the doctors and nurses as they worked over Michael, but she couldn’t. Helplessly, she was forced to hear the last anguished moments of Michael’s life before the bright flame that was his life, and her heart and soul, was snuffed out.

Brokenly, tormented, she listened to Michael’s harsh, wracking coughing, as he struggled for life, choking out his last breaths. She heard him gasp horribly one more time, and then there was the most horrid sound of all.

Silence.

The monitors had stopped their disrespectful beeping, the doctors’ voices were stilled, as if in awe. The very walls of Section, the universe itself, Nikita felt, were hushed and reverent, as this bright light winked out, and passed from among them. Michael, she knew, was dead.

Before she could scream, or faint, or react in any other way to this unthinkable loss, the silence was shattered by an unwelcome, rude voice from behind the screen around Michael’s bed.

"Holy F*cking SHIT!" one of the doctor’s cursed in a loud voice. "What the HELL….????

Andie, who had been sobbing weakly in Nikita’s arms, flinched. The women pulled apart, and looked at each other in shock. There was a swift, murmured conference among the medical personnel, and then the curtain around the alcove was swept aside, and the doctor who had just uttered the harsh curse came flying out, headed right toward them.

"You!" he yelled at them, pointing his finger. "What the HELL did you do?"

"Mendez?" Nikita gulped, becoming angry. What was this boorish nemesis trying to do now, she thought, glaring at him, enraged at his violation of Michael’s last moments of life with his classless remarks, and disrespectful intrusions in their grief…

Mendez pressed on, ignoring the warning look in Nikita’s eyes. He walked up to them, staring accusingly from Andie to Nikita and then back again. "Well?" he demanded. "One of you is responsible for this, damn it! Which one of you did it to him?"

Andie paled and swayed where she stood. "Did it?" she yelped. "You mean, we….. I….??? Oh, God…." she gasped, realizing he meant that they were responsible for Michael’s death.

"Yes, of COURSE, Chicky, that’s what I meant," Mendez went on impatiently in an imperious tone. "You two are the last ones to be with him before the event," Mendez continued, exasperated with their denseness.. "Of course, it was your fault…" He shook his head in disgust. "Just tell me what the f*ck you did to get such a quick result?"

Nikita had had enough. Blood boiling, she grabbed the hapless Medtech by the lapels, hauled him up on his tiptoes, and slammed him against the wall. Mendez dangled there in her grip, his eyes going wide with fright.

"Listen, you little boorish Bastard," she hissed. "We didn’t do anything. We went to see Michael, to say g-goodbye.." she choked on the last word, and with a despondent sob, her anger dissipating into devastated sorrow, as the realization of her loss stabbed her anew, she stepped back, releasing him.

"Andrea held his hand, and kissed him good-bye…" Nikita sobbed. "That’s all we did…."

Mendez turned to Andie, his ears perking up as if he was a small, graceless dog. "You kissed him?" he said eagerly, his eyes brightening with passionate interest. "Really?"

Andie stared at him with an astonished look, mouth agape at his bizarre question. This doctor had to be the strangest, weirdest bird she had ever encountered. "Yes!" she yelled angrily. "I kissed him! I kissed him all over his beautiful face!" she choked out, beginning to sob again. "What’s it to you?"

Mendez froze, and stared at her, as if mesmerized by her tears. He reached out one hand to touch her wet cheek, capturing one salty tear, and then rubbing the precious moisture between his fingers. He stared at her some more, his eyes glazing over in astonishment, as if entranced by her weeping.

Suddenly, the doctor roused from his reverie, his face breaking out into smiles. He let out a harsh laugh of triumph. "Holy F*CK!!!" he exclaimed. "I can’t BELIEVE IT! The TEARS! It was the tears that did it…"

Nikita grabbed his arm hard and forcefully spun him around to face her. "What the HELL are you talking about?" she screamed. "Andrea’s tears did not KILL Michael!"

Mendez blinked, and looked from one angry, shocked woman to the other. "What?" he said blankly, slack-jawed with astonishment. "Michael’s not dead….."

Nikita let out a harsh gasp, and staggered back, releasing the hapless doctor. "Not…dead?" she squeaked out, not daring to hope.

Mendez nodded, shrugging back into his lab-coat after Nikita had disarranged it. "There must have been some kind of enzyme in her tears that counter-acted the virus," he explained, grinning happily. "We have our cure…."

He reached for Andie’s sleeve, and began to pull the girl down the hallway to the lab. "Come with me, and we’ll see if we can synthesize an antidote serum from you…"

"Wait, WAIT!" Nikita stopped him with another grab on his sleeve, pulling him to a halt. Andie stood numbly beside Mendez, white with shock.

"What about MICHAEL?" Nikita screamed in an agony of suspense.

Mendez’s eyebrows went up, as if in shocked disbelief. "Isn’t it obvious?" he said blandly, and tut-tutted in a supercilious tone. "Even the greenest med student knows that when a patient on a ventilator starts breathing on their own, they start choking, and the breathing tube has to be removed….." he continued arrogantly.

Andie’s face lit up in a tremulous smile. "Michael’s breathing on his own?" she asked in a hushed whisper, hardly daring to believe this good news. "He’s going to be okay?"

Mendez rolled his eyes. "Jesus, YES, isn’t that what I just SAID?" he exclaimed, exasperated.

Nikita began to laugh, her joy bubbling up in her.

Michael was alive. It hadn’t been good-bye. She would get to say "I love you" more than once, after all.

"Mendez!" she squealed, trembling giddily with relief.

"WHAT?" the doctor said in an aggravated tone.

"This," answered Nikita, and kissed him again.

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

A short, frantic ten hours later, Madeleine called another briefing to deal with Racer. This time, the briefing table was not conspicuous for the empty chairs of absent team members. All the players had returned, recovered from their sojourns in the valley of death.

Operations was pale and haggard, his voice rough and gravelly from the breathing tube that had been so recently removed from his throat. He sat straight in his chair next to Madeleine, and began the briefing.

"What’s our status?" he growled roughly, all business.

Nikita, sitting across the table, marveled at how quickly the victims of Racer’s plague had recovered from their ordeal, and were now acting as if nothing traumatically life-changing had happened.

She sluiced her eyes side-ways to drink in the sight of Michael in the chair next to hers. He was dressed in his usual black, his hair combed and neat, his strong face composed and alert. Except for his slight pallor and the faint trace of circles under his eyes, there was no evidence he had been ill at all, let alone on his death-bed a few hours before.

Nikita resisted the urge to slip her hand under the table and link her fingers with his, although the impulse to touch him, to reassure herself that he was there, was very strong. For her, the past few days had tumbled her world upside-down. She thought she had lost Michael, twice- Once to Andie, and once to the Angel of Death.

But she had not lost him. She had realized he was more alive, and more HERS, than ever before. And both of those gifts, Michael’s life, and the revelation of Michael’s love, had been due to the real angel among them- Andie.

Nikita smiled warmly to herself, remembering how quickly Andie had saved the day. Mendez had hauled her off to his lab, and in a very short time, she had provided him with enough of her tears to analyze for the antidote. As soon as she given the scientists the samples they required to get to work, Andie began the rounds in Medlab, going from bed to bed, bestowing her healing touch on as many patients as she could. Behind her, the Med-techs followed, tending to each awakening patient in turn as, like Sleeping Beauty in reverse, the Princess aroused them from their slumbers.

She cried for them.. She cried for joy that Michael was alive. She cried in sorrow for the ones who had died. She cried in humility that she was able to bestow life. She cried out her grief, her pathos, her heart; she cried for every sweet, good thing, and every sorrow of her life. When she could summon no more tears, she would pinch the tender bruises on the inside of her arm, using her own pain to generate the needed tears. She cried, and cried, and cried; each tear precious, each one a boon to everyone she touched.

And then she cried because she knew that none of her pain, her grief, her sorrow in life had been wasted, no moment of deep feeling in her life had been for naught. None of her losses and burdens had been useless- Here, now, among the patients that needed her, she turned her sorrow, her empathy, the wounds of her heart, into healing for others, freely giving them her life-tears as a sacred gift.

Just when the girl was reaching the point of exhaustion, and had no more tears to give, Mendez emerged from his laboratory, happily triumphant, with a supply of the antidote synthesized from Andie’s tears. The Med-Teams stayed at work, carrying on Andie’s healing mission, this time without her.

It was Mendez himself who supported Andie to a bed in a quiet room off of the lab, and carefully tucked her in, leaving her to get some well-deserved and much- needed rest. Even he, the most emotionally insensitive among them, had been touched into admiration for her selfless bravery, had been moved to awed respect.

It was with that same tone of respect that now Mendez, seated beside Michael at the briefing table, answered the Section leader’s question.

"We have a 100% cure rate," Mendez reported in a tone of awe. "Except for the fifteen operatives who died, everyone else effected has responded to the antidote, and has made a complete recovery." He shook his head in amazement. "That Andie chick was something else," he commented admiringly.

Operations gave the Med-tech an indulgent smile. "So you’re saying the crisis is over, and that Section is back on full status?"

Mendez puffed out his chest, basking in the leader’s approving smile, and this moment of heroic glory. This sure beat the heck out of having his life threatened every time he turned around, he thought. "Yup, that’s about the size of it, Boss," he announced proudly. "We’re A-OK."

"But Racer doesn’t know that," said Michael quietly, in a slightly hoarse-roughened voice.

Madeleine inclined her head in acknowledgement of this statement. "No, he doesn’t," she replied serenely. "He no doubt expects that his virus has decimated us, and that we are in a state of extremis, desperate for his antidote…"

She sighed softly and steepled her fingers in front of her. "He’ll be expecting us to be ready to give him anything he asks for…."

Nikita frowned. "What were his demands?" she asked tensely, giving another sideways glance to Michael. "I thought all he wanted was his granddaughter back?"

Birkoff, at the far end of the table, answered her. "That’s right," he told her with a nod. "That has been his sole request so far…"

Mendez leaned forward, looking confused. "I don’t get it," he said, scratching his short-cropped head. "Something’s really screwy here. If the S.O.B. really gave a rat’s ass about Andie’s well being, like he says he does, why the hell did he expose her to the killer virus in the first place?" He shook his head in disgust. "How did Racer know she would even live long enough to be traded for the antidote?" he demanded, angrily. "How does he even know she survived?"

Michael blinked, and shifted in his seat, as images from the first kidnap exchange flashed through his mind. He remembered how Racer’s man had aimed the gun right at Andie. Michael, leaping to the rescue, had caught the bullet meant for her. Only it hadn’t been a bullet. It had been a tranquilizer dart.

Michael’s eyes widened. Had Racer meant to retrieve Andie, and then contaminate Michael only, and send him back to Section, to contaminate and infect the others? Only Michael’s quick reactions in shooting Racer’s men had prevented this from happening. Michael had no doubt that Racer wanted his granddaughter returned, and he wouldn’t have exposed her to the virus unless….

"Racer must have known Andrea was immune to the virus….." Michael concluded softly, expressing his thoughts out loud. "There’s no other explanation….."

Madeleine tilted her head, and then nodded in surprise. "Logical," she said approvingly, raising one eyebrow. "But I thought you said that Andrea never met her grandfather, or had any dealings with him……"

Operations narrowed his eyes. "That’s what she SAID," he drawled suspiciously. "But it’s not the first time we’ve brought a Trojan horse inside Section walls…." He intoned grimly, remembering the time not so long ago when Section was tricked by Red Cell into bringing a virus into their midst, with deadly consequences.

Nikita sat straight up in her chair. "She didn’t lie!" the blonde protested, glancing apprehensively from one steely-faced Section leader to the other. "Andrea is a sweet, kind, person ! She wouldn’t have anything to do with a piece of slime like Racer, or be in on any plot with him…."

Michael let himself smile slightly, pleased at Nikita’s swift defense of Andie. But then he frowned, and let out a new suspicion of his own.

"To her knowledge, she didn’t," he amended Nikita’s statement, his eyes soft and sad. "But Racer MUST have had some contact with her at some point, otherwise he wouldn’t have known she was immune…."

"But, Michael!" Nikita protested. "Wouldn’t she remember getting a disease like this, and recovering from it?" she demanded, shaking her head. "I would think she’d recall having her lungs stop working, don’t you?" she added sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest and glared at the assembled team leaders defiantly.

Mendez, who had been idly doodling on a piece of paper in front of him, interrupted. "This isn’t a case of the mumps, you know," he said tensely, staring down at the drawing he was making. "That sh*t that just almost killed us was not your ordinary, every day little flu…."

The biological hazards specialist looked up at them, eyeing each face around the table grimly. "There was nothing natural about that f*cking bug we just fought," he went on, tapping his finger on the paper in front of him for emphasis. "That was a genuine, God-damned designer virus. The only way a person could be immune to it, would be if they were deliberately exposed to it, and in this case, given the virulence of the disease," he went on grimly, "it would have had to have been introduced under the skin in a very controlled amounts, sort of like an allergy test is done…."

He took the paper he had been doodling on and shoved it toward the middle of the table, where the others could see it.

Michael stared at the crosshatch pattern of parallel lines, something like a tic-tac-toe board, that Mendez had drawn. Something about it was disturbingly familiar…. Where had he seen these markings before?

"If the person had undergone this procedure, they would have a scar that looks like this…." Mendez concluded, nodding at the drawing again.

All eyes turned to Michael, who sat stunned in his chair, the green eyes wide with shock. "Oh, God…" he breathed out, trembling, and then shut his eyes, feeling like he had just been punched in the gut. "Oh, God…."

"Well?" said Madeleine with impatient coldness. "I take it by your reaction that Miss Racer does indeed have such a scar?"

The glittering green eyes opened, and looked into hers. "Yes," Michael answered somberly.

Mendez squirmed with excitement and scientific enthusiasm. "Hey, KEWL!" he exclaimed, beaming, almost bouncing in his seat.

Michael silenced him with a look that promised certain death if Mendez said one more word. The med-tech subsided in his chair, and Michael turned back to Madeleine and went on, after being so rudely interrupted.

"Andrea told me she had been very sick as an infant," he forced out in a scratchy, low whisper. " She almost died….." he choked out, his mouth twisting in anger. "She thinks the scar is from a treatment she received for her illness," Michael spat out in disgust. "But it wasn’t from the treatment, it was from being deliberately infected…."

Nikita gagged. "Racer EXPERIMENTED on his own grandchild?" she gasped, appalled. "When she was a little BABY?"

Michael nodded. "I think Andrea’s father must have known what Racer did to her, because father and son quarreled violently about that time, and never spoke since…….."

"Were there any symptoms or side-effects, other than the scar, from her exposure to the virus?" Mendez asked in a serious professional tone, daring to speak again.

Michael turned his head to look at him. He stared at the med-tech intently for several long moments, studying the young man critically, as if measuring the motivation for this question and his reasons for this eager curiosity. Deciding that Mendez , despite the horribly gauche and tactless way he went about it, was, in this instance, totally sincere and pure in his pursuit of Scientific knowledge, Michael answered.

Michael nodded slowly. "She said she had never been sick a day in her life since," he told the scientist softly. "Not even a cold."

Mendez’ eyes grew big. "Holy F*ckin’ CRAP!" he declared loudly. "The Bastard must have subjected her to more than one of his friggin’ designer disease creations, to get a result like that…" he shook his head and gulped, an expression of angry fury coming over his face. " Jesus Christ!" he swore. "What a complete, total F*CK-WAD…"

"Agreed," said Madeleine in a lady-like tone. Her eyes twinkled with an anticipatory gleam. "And the f*ck-wad, as you call him, needs to be taken out…."

The assembled company let out a collective gasp at Madeleine’s echoing of Mendez’s crude curse. None of them, even Operations, could ever remember hearing her swear before.

Still smiling serenely, she tilted her head, and swiveled her chair in Birkoff’s direction. "Send Mr. Racer a message from us," Madeleine ordered tightly.

Birkoff blinked. "What do you want me to tell him?" the young genius asked, wide-eyed.

Madeleine smiled dangerously. "Tell him we’re ready to agree to his terms," she said sweetly. "We’re going to give him his granddaughter."

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

Andie lay sleeping on her side, her back to him, when Michael entered the small room. Against the stark white sheets and white walls of the sterile hospital environment, her soft, brown hair and dewy pink skin stood out with all the richness of a Monet watercolor against a blank canvas. She WAS beautiful, just as he had told her.

Silently, he approached the bed, and looked down at the delicate face of the sleeping girl. Scrubbed clean of make-up, her features were almost those of a child, a true innocent, her mouth soft and relaxed…….

Giving in to an impulse, Michael swiftly bent and kissed those soft, sweet lips, brushing the sweetness with his own.

Blue eyes popped open, and the next moment Michael found himself wrapped in an embrace as warm and sweet as their kiss. Andie slipped her arms under his, and held him tight, crushing him to her, her hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

She sobbed, and laughed his name out at the same time. "Oh, Michael…" Andie cried happily, her breath hitching in her throat. "Michael, are you really all right?"

She hadn’t seen him since the awakening kiss in Medlab, and she had only been told of his recovery. She wanted to assure herself that he was indeed back among the living.

"I’m fine," Michael told her softly. He caressed a tendril of sweetly curling hair that lay on her neck, tempting him to touch it, and the velvet skin underneath. His fingers stroked her with sharp poignancy. He knew this was probably their last private moment together.

Andie sighed happily, then pulled back to look at him, taking his face in her hands. Sparkling blue eyes met solemn, darkened green. She knew immediately what was wrong.

"My grandfather?" she asked him, eyes wide.

Michael did not answer right away, but took her hand in his and pulled her down to sit beside him on the bed. Her fingers trembled in his, but then gripped his hand hard, taking and imparting strength from the warm touch.

Michael swallowed hard, and began. "In a few hours, we’re going to be at a meeting place designated by your grandfather," he said in the soft voice she loved. "Section is going to exchange you for the antidote…."

Andie gulped. "But you already HAVE an antidote…." She protested half-heartedly. She knew it was futile to try to buck Section’s plans.

Michael turned to look at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Racer doesn’t know that," he went on softly. "He thinks we’re dying, desperate…."

Andie nodded, and then let out a shaky sigh. "You want to get him," she stated tremulously.

Michael gripped her hand harder. "The swap will take place as planned, then we’ll follow you and your grandfather to his hiding place, and then.."

"Then you’ll bring him down," Andie finished for him in a tense voice.

"Yes," answered Michael simply, closing his eyes, as the pain of their anticipated separation stabbed him anew.

Beside him, Andie let out an anguished sob. "I’m afraid…" she choked out.

Michael immediately turned to her, and gathered her in his arms. "We’ll do everything we can to protect you," he vowed fervently against her shoulder. "I promise…."

Andie stiffened in his arms and pulled back. "No, Michael," she told him, shaking her head, her eyes brimmed with tears. "That’s not why I’m afraid…"

She tried to smile bravely through her tears, her lower lip trembling. She reached out one hand to gently stroke his cheek. "My grandfather won’t hurt me, he’s made that clear…." She took a deep shaky breath. "But he’s tried to kill YOU, and he almost succeeded…." Andie sobbed, looking at him wide-eyed. "How can I know you’ll be safe?"

Michael blinked in shock at the loving selflessness of this question, his soul warming inside him at the evidence of her caring concern. He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly once more.

"I’ll be fine, I promise…." He told her, struggling between laughter and tears. He was a cold op; it was his job to be at risk. His personal safety was not on a high priority list, except for those few that valued him as a human being, and not a killing machine- Nikita, and Andie.

"What happens after you get him?" Andie asked tensely, in a worried tone, not soothed after the kiss.

Michael put his arm around her shoulders. "Racer will be brought back here to be interrogated, and you’ll be returned to your school," he answered quietly. "Then it’ll be over."

Andie sobbed and slumped against him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her hands twisted tightly in his lapels, clutching him fiercely. "Then I’ll never see you again…" she cried.

Michael closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "No," he answered in a voice wracked with pain. "I’m sorry…."

Andie tensed at these words, then remained very still against his shoulder. Her sobs quieted, and she exhaled softly all the air in her lungs. It seemed to Michael as if she were gathering herself, looking inward for the strength to say her next words.

After a few, quiet, somehow peaceful, moments, Andie raised her head, and this time, Michael noted admiringly, her efforts to present him with a brave smile were successful.

"Don’t say that," she said, her tone light, her voice almost teasing. The brave smile held, despite the tell-tale quiver of her lower lip. "You’re not sorry you met me, are you?"

Michael’s eyes widened, and then he carefully matched his playful tone to hers, his voice surfacely flippant but with an underlying ocean of seriousness. He smiled back. "I’ll never be sorry about that…." He said, and then almost choked out the last words. "For any moment we had together…."

Andie almost dissolved in tears, but her smile held, and gulping back a sob, she tilted her head coquettishly, and went on in the teasing voice, "Me, too," she whispered, and then stroked her finger down his cheek. "So," she challenged, "Are you going to take it back?"

Michael smiled again, continuing the game. He realized what she was doing was making the good-bye easier on both of them. "Yes," he said warmly. "I take it back….." His eyes met hers in deep communication, and both knew that Michael was about to lie. "I’m… not ….sorry…" he said with an effort of will not to cry.

"Good," Andie replied, her words as warm, and as false, as his. "I’m not sorry, either."

She returned to her position of before, arms under his, her head on his chest, snuggling closer. "Promise me something," she said, exhaling a sigh.

Michael stroked the silky-textured brown hair. "Of course," he replied quickly, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t ask of him anything it wasn’t in his power to give.

"When this is over, you said you’d be okay," she began softly. "But I won’t have any way of knowing that for sure…" She looked up at him, meeting the soft green eyes, her blue ones bright and intense, her flippant tone gone.

"I have to KNOW, Michael," Andie pleaded softly. "I think it’s the only way I’ll be able to go on, to … recover…." She stopped, struggling to control the tears that threatened to overcome her. "I just need you to find some way to get a message to me that you made it, some signal that you’re all right…"

Michael nodded, his eyes as soft as hers. "All right," he vowed tenderly. "I promise…."

Andie laughed, her face brightening as if his answer had relieved her of all concerns. She snuggled back against him, and wriggled onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and looked up at him, batting her lashes innocently. " I’m very bossy and demanding, aren’t I?" she asked, openly flirtatious, her tone light one more.

Michael smiled. "Yes, your Highness, you are…." He answered teasingly. He inched closer, pulling her more firmly down on his lap, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. The look in his eyes made her tremble with sudden desire.

His next words took her breath away. "Command me," he begged hoarsely. Then, before she could order it, he obeyed her heart’s unspoken request, stealing what was left of her breath away with a long, passionate kiss…..

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

There was only a little time left before the mission for the handsome Prince to serve the commands of the sweet Princess, Queen of his heart, but he managed to fulfill them all, to her Highness’s complete satisfaction.

Without her having to say a word, Michael obeyed her every request, reading his orders in her touch, the look in her eyes, and in the fervency of her kisses. Just as fervently, he obeyed his own desires as well, finding fulfillment of his own in his strivings to please her.

Time stood still for them, or at least, later, in her cherished memories, that is how Andie thought of these moments in Michael’s arms. They savored each other, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world, instead of just this swiftly ebbing, and heart-breakingly brief, hour. The sorrow of their impending separation did not touch this magical time, joined as they were- body, heart, soul- in the mystical union of timeless love.

"Michael…" Andie breathed out in a sigh as she lay basking in the afterglow in the circle of her strong lover’s arms. "You are so good to me…." She whispered, kissing the soft down of hair on his chest. "You’ve made me so …… happy……."

Michael’s arms tightened around her, even as he stiffened and frowned, his eyes going dark.

"No…." came his automatic response, the word out of his mouth before he could recall it. He had kidnapped her, imprisoned her, endangered her by bringing her into Section, had exposed her to her grandfather’s biological weapons, had placed her in the middle of the mission, the crisis, the crossfire of Section’s war to bring down the criminals no one else could get. And more than that, Michael was tormented by the idea that he, personally, had taken advantage of her vulnerability and helplessness to get what he wanted. Hadn’t he?

"I’m not…good…" he protested in a hoarse whisper. "I…."

Andie pressed her fingers to his soft lips before he could go on. "Shh, Michael…" she soothed him, understanding instantly his self-doubts and fears. "You think you …..used me?" she asked very softly, pulling back to look in the suffering green eyes.

The green eyes fluttered closed, then Michael nodded. "Yes…" he forced out in a harsh, anguished gasp. "I…."

This time, before he could go on, Andie stopped him with a kiss, quick and tender, on his mouth, then followed it by others, raining caresses on his face, each kiss as sweet and light and pure as the heart that beat inside the young girl’s chest, each one as loving, and bright as her glorious soul.

"Stop it, Silly…" she teased him in gentle voice, warm with love. "You didn’t use me…." Her eyes glittered with tears. "You took care of me, you … cherished me, you made me feel… b-beautiful…"

This time, it was Michael who stopped her words with a kiss, hard and fierce, his arms crushing her to him in a fervency of love, remorse, and the desire to tell the truth.

"You ARE…. beautiful……." He insisted urgently. "So utterly beautiful…." Then, with a wrenching cry, he turned his head away from her. "God, what will I do without you?" he moaned roughly.

Andie knew she had to stop him, before she broke down in tears, knowing that if she started to cry, she would never stop. She pushed him back down on his back, and in a moment, to his surprise, she had straddled him, and had pinned him by his wrists down to the bed, holding him prisoner.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, eyes wide, making no move to escape his lovely captor.

Andie smiled at him. "The Royal Princess has a few more commands for you…" she teased.

Michael managed a small, startled smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up in delighted amusement. "Yes, Your Highness…." He acquiesced meekly. "Am I under orders to please you?" he teased back, his voice suddenly roughened with desire.

Andie took in a sharp breath, almost undone by those words, that smile. But she forced herself to focus on her purpose, even though her body cried out to melt into his, to succumb to desire……

"Yes.." she groaned, allowing herself one, sweet, but brief kiss, before continuing her mission. She was determined that in these last moments together, she would leave Michael with no regrets, no guilt, no sorrow, only warm love and sweet memories.

"You can please me by following my orders…." She taunted him, with a tremulous smile, tears welling in her eyes.

Michael blinked, and held perfectly still. "I’m yours to command.." he vowed, in a solemn tone, his eyes searching her face in rapt attention; The mood had shifted from light-hearted teasing back to utter seriousness again.

Andie let out a sigh. "You have been a loyal and devoted Servant to me, My Prince…" she whispered softly. "You sought me out, you rescued me, you awakened me—HEALED me --- with your kiss…." She released one of Michael’s wrists and brought his hand up to rest lightly on the jagged scar across her breast. Michael caressed it with his fingers, his eyes never leaving hers.

Hot tears fell on his chest from her eyes. "Just like Sleeping Beauty…" she told him with a tremulous laugh.

"Andrea…" Michael groaned, trying to sit up.

Andie pushed him back down again, her fingers lingering on the rise of hard chest, and then moving up to stroke a soft tendril of hair off his cheek. "You’re my Hero, My lovely, lovely Prince…" her voice caressed him as tenderly as her fingers. "And I command you to do one last thing for me…."

His eyes glittered brightly as he watched her, enraptured by the lovely woman above him. "Anything…" he promised rashly in a fervent whisper. "I’ll do anything…" he begged. Andie knew he begged not only for her next command, but, for her forgiveness, her blessing, and, wrenchingly, for her sweet farewell.

"Good," she laughed, her eyes crinkling into poignant merriment, halfway between tears and a smile. She kissed him, light and quick. "I command you to live…."

Another kiss. Deeper, slower. "….happily…"

She kissed him again, her mouth warm and yielding on his. "….ever….."

She breathed the last word of her command into his parted lips. "….after……" she moaned, and then plunged her soft tongue in his mouth, kissing him with fervent passion, as her tears fell like blessings, like angel kisses, on his face.

Michael could hold back no longer. With a groan, he turned her in his arms to lie under him on the bed. Covering her body with his, his strong arms gathered her to him, and he began returning her fervent kisses with all the passionate fervency of his own, his heart, though breaking, was light and free….

A sound from the doorway abruptly ended the magical moment of the entwined couple’s enchantment.

"Holy God-damn SH*T!" exclaimed Mendez as he burst into the room, candy-bar in hand. He took a bite of his Snickers and eyed the naked lovers avidly, as if he was a spectator at the movies. "Are you two going at it AGAIN?" he said with a grin.

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

Michael gave Mendez a look that could have frozen Hell. Andie was shocked with the swiftness of how Michael’s expression had changed to icicle coldness from hot fire.

The passionate green eyes that had only seconds before regarded her with such warm adoration, now were icy green shards of frozen malice, aimed laser-like at Mendez. Andie shivered. Along with her very natural resentment at his intrusion, she could not help but feel an involuntary pang of pity for the incredibly tactless and blundering Mendez, who was now the target of Michael’s icy wrath.

"Get out," ordered Michael sharply, sitting up on the bed and gathering Andie to him, shielding her from the Med-tech’s avid gaze.

Mendez, to Michael’s shock, did not obey. "No can do," the med-tech said stubbornly, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He took another bite of candy bar. "I’ve got orders from Operations himself…." He told them proudly. Mendez had been basking in the glow of the Section leader’s good favor, and, for now, foolishly, he felt that he was untouchable, and that Michael’s ill-will was no longer a threat to his well-being, or his survival.

Michael gathered up the sheets on the bed, wrapping Andie in one, and himself in the other. His movements were slow and deliberate, seemingly calm, but Andie could sense the leashed anger building up inside the Section operative, and marveled at how clueless the cocky, self-important Mendez could be, not to be afraid of Michael’s quiet, poised tranquility, not unlike the silent stealth of a panther just before it strikes.

*Could he be that STUPID?* Andie wondered, watching Mendez in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Orders to do what?" Michael asked softly. The ice in the green eyes had not thawed one bit. In fact, it had grown to glacial proportions.

Oblivious to his own mortal danger, the obtuse Med-tech smiled and pulled a rather alarmingly large syringe out of his lab-coat pocket. "I’m supposed to inject the Andie-babe here," he indicated the girl next to Michael with a nod, "with a tracker before the mission," Mendez explained in a proud tone. He waggled the needle and grinned. Girls always got grossed out by needles and blood and other cool stuff, he thought with a superior smile.

Andie swallowed hard and resisted the urge to cower against Michael. Bravely, she held out her bruised, needle-punctured arm. "Okay," she said meekly, biting her lower lip. "Go ahead and get it over with…" she said in a resigned tone.

To her surprise and dismay, Mendez shook his head. "Not THERE," he told her happily. It’s not supposed to go in your ARM," he informed her with a lopsided, almost leering, grin.

Andie tensed, and she felt Michael stiffen beside her. He put his arm protectively around her shoulders and then fixed Mendez with his piercingly cold gaze. "Where does it go, then?" he asked in the deceptively soft voice, feeling his control slipping. If Mendez asked Andie to bend over for a shot in her very pretty, charmingly curved derriere, Michael didn’t know if he could keep from throttling the haplessly rude med-tech. Michael was already fantasizing about getting his hands around the dim-wit’s throat….

Mendez, to their astonishment, was perceptive enough to read their fears. "I’m not going to give you a shot in the butt," he explained to Andie eagerly, unable to contain his excitement. "It’s WAY cooler than that…."

"Cooler?" Andie said, blinking. "Cooler, HOW?"

Mendez perched on the end of the cot, next to Andie, leaning forward. His words came out in a rush of excitement and eager Snicker-scented breaths. "It’s like this," he began enthusiastically. "Walter and I got together and worked it out…."

"Walter?" Michael asked, controlling his lust for Med-tech blood, for now.

"Yeah," Mendez answered, nodding vigorously. "You know, the Hippie dude with the bandana?"

Michael sighed impatiently. "Yes," he said tightly. "I know who Walter is. What did he say?"

"Well, see…." Mendez continued enthusiastically, searching his pockets for his candy bar. He found it, took another bite and went on. "We determined together that the best place to place the tracker would be, logically, in the part of her body that was already f*cked, so to speak…"

Andie flinched. Michael clenched his fists and counted to ten. "Go on," he commanded icily.

Clueless to the imminence of his approaching death, Mendez obeyed. "Yeah, I mean, the tissue there is perfect, ya know?" he told them in wide-eyed eagerness. "Smooth, perfect for concealment, and the number of nerve endings is ideal…." He grinned, and gestured with the needle toward Andie’s middle. "All we gotta do is just slip this baby right in there in her little …."

No longer able to endure the med-tech’s prattling on about the most intimate of Andie’s body parts, Michael lost control. With a growl, the panther struck. In an instant, Michael was off the cot, springing up in one smooth movement to grip Mendez by the lapels of his lab-coat, whirl him around, and pin him to the wall.

Mendez found himself staring straight into the panther’s green eyes. "Finish that sentence and you die," Michael stated tensely, coiled like a predatory animal ready to strike in defense of its mate.

Andie shrank back on the bed, watching the two men anxiously. In spite of her discomfort and fear, she couldn’t help admiring how Michael looked in that moment- the sheet knotted low on his lean waist, the muscles working in his bare chest and shoulders as he held Mendez helpless in his strong grasp, his whole stance the embodiment of sheer strength and power, his eyes glittering with dangerous wildness—He was magnificent, Andie thought. Simply magnificent.

"What IS the problem?" the dense Mendez protested, clueless as to what he had done to offend the furious operative before him. He shook his head, and turned hurt innocent brown eyes to Michael’s glittering green ones. "Hey, man, YOU’RE the one who told everybody about it in the first place, at the briefing table …."

Michael and Andie gasped at the same time. "WHAT?" Michael demanded. His hands tightened measurably on Mendez’s collar. "What are you talking about?" He spat out in disgust.

Mendez blinked, totally confused. "I’m talking about her SCAR, man…" the would-be doctor explained in a bewildered tone. "What do you think I was talking about?"

Michael froze, holding perfectly still for a long, tense moment. No one breathed, no one moved. Then, with a sigh, Michael released him, and then walked a few paces away. Crossing his arms across his chest, and careful to not look at Andie, Michael turned back to fix Mendez with his intense gaze.

"Explain," he ordered curtly.

Mendez smoothed down his rumpled collar, and adjusted the lab-coat back on his shoulders. "Jesus Christ, man, I already told you," he whined. "The scar tissue’s already raised and puffy, puckered so that the tracker won’t be noticeable to the naked eye…" He let out an exasperated sigh. "And I told you about the nerve endings…."

"What about them?" Michael demanded tightly.

Mendez threw Andie a pleading look. "Walter and I just wanted to work out a way to make things easier on you, Kid," he told the startled girl. "After you being such a trooper and all…"

Andie blinked. "I don’t understand…" she said, bewildered.

Mendez eyed her softly. "Some of the nerves in the area of the scar have already been cut," he told her in a surprisingly gentle voice. " Putting the tracker there would hurt less than placing it in more sensitive areas with full nerve function," he explained in a serious tone. "We wanted to spare you some pain…."

"Oh!" said Andie, startled. She was having trouble processing this new Mendez, with his compassion, and his gentle sensitivity. She was also struggling mightily with the shock of knowing Michael had discussed her most intimate secrets- her scars, her wounds- with the whole of Section, at a public briefing, no less.

"I see," she said quietly. She turned solemn eyes to Michael. "Why don’t you leave now, so that the doctor can carry out his orders?" she asked tightly.

Michael’s eyes widened and he took a step toward her, his hand raised to touch her cheek. "Andrea?" he inquired uncertainly.

Andie shrank back from him, avoiding his touch. "Go," she said coldly, averting her face. "Just go, please….." She bit her lip to keep back the sob that threatened to escape from her throat.

Michael hesitated, torn between gathering her in his arms and explaining things, or quietly leaving, complying with her request, in the hopes that there would be time to talk and sort things out later. As much as he wanted to hold her, soothe her hurts, wrenchingly, he made his decision to opt for the latter alternative, mostly to spare her more pain.

Michael had not wanted Andie to find out just how badly her grandfather had used her, subjecting her to experiments when she was just an infant. He was hoping that she never found out about that, and could keep the illusion that the callous Racer truly cared for her.

It was just this impression of Racer’s caring regard for her welfare, Michael knew, that gave Andie the confidence to submit to the kidnap exchange, and go through the mission, without being afraid for her own life. Michael wanted to do nothing to subject her to more terror, or add to the stress she was already under. Discussing the origin of her scars now, before the mission, would only shatter and wound her more.

Slowly, his heart breaking, Michael dropped his hand and retreated. "All right," he said softly, submitting to her request. "I’ll go."

He gave Mendez one last cold, warning glance, and then left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Devastated, Andie buried her face in her hands and let go her pain in wrenching tears. This time, the tears held no magic or healing in them, no peace or consoling sweetness, as before. Michael was gone. She wept, the harsh tears stinging her cruelly this time with only an achingly bitter sorrow.

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

Mendez stared at the weeping girl, somewhat at a loss to know what to do to comfort her. He wasn’t even sure exactly why she was crying.

Thoughtfully, he chewed another bite of candy bar, then carefully swallowed. What the hell did women cry about, anyway? he mused, feeling decidedly out of his depth. He KNEW microbes and bacteria, was in his element in a laboratory with his head bent over a microscope, but this girl thing was a total mystery to him.

"Don’t cry," he admonished her uncomfortably, clearing his throat. He took a stab at consoling her, surmising that her upset had had something to do with Michael leaving.

"You know," he began gently, "This is Michael we’re talking about here…" He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "You gotta be glad he pays any attention to you at all, him being so busy with the others, I mean….."

Andie looked up at him, blinking back her tears. "What?" she asked him, startled. "What others?"

Mendez nodded sagely, as if wise in the ways of the world. "Like I said, this is Michael we’re talking about here.." he went on in a commiserating tone. "He may have been in the sack with you a few times this week, but you’re not the only dessert on the menu, if you get my drift…."

Andie’s eyes widened. Others, she thought. Other women. Other… lovers.

"Oh, God…" she moaned. It was clear now. How could she have been so blind? How could she not have seen it? It had all been right there in front of her, plain as day….

"It’s Nikita, isn’t it?" she whispered hoarsely.

Mendez nodded, and perched beside her on the bed. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder again. "Yup," he answered. "One of the guys in Medlab told me she was his woman…" He sighed, envying Michael down to his scuffed tennis shoes. Some guys were just babe magnets, and some guys, like himself, seemed to just drive them away. There was no explanation for this curious phenomenon. It was a mystery that even the best scientific minds, his in particular, were at a total loss to understand.

Andie began to cry again.

"Hey, Kid," he ventured, groping for words of comfort. "At least, he cares about you a lot, you know?" He nodded emphatically. "I mean, he threatened to kill me twice already because of you……" He grinned. "That has to mean SOMETHING, right?"

To Mendez’s surprise, his words had the desired effect. Andie giggled, and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at the absurdly earnest young Med-tech. His attempts at counseling were pathetic, to say the least, but he was TRYING.

She decided she preferred to have him in his professional capacity rather than this amateur role he had assumed of psychologist. Whatever types of intelligence Mendez might possess, and she acknowledged that in some areas it was considerable, Andie knew emotional intelligence was not among his strong suits.

She sat up straight and nodded at him, pointing to the needle he held in his hand. "Well, why don’t we get this over with, then?" she said brightly. Taking a deep breath, she carefully adjusted the sheet so that it draped down over her shoulder, revealing the jagged scar that skimmed the top of one soft, creamy-skinned breast.

"Here you go…" she offered, and closed her eyes, waiting for the needle’s sharp sting.

Mendez gaped at her in fascination. "Wow!" he blurted out, stunned. "Michael didn’t tell us about THAT one!" he exclaimed in excitement. "We just heard about the OTHER one…."

Andie opened her eyes, and blinked at him, confused. Talking to Mendez was a bit like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with some of the pieces missing.

Or maybe it was like playing cards without a full deck, she thought wryly. She let out a sigh.

"Other WHAT?" Andie asked, exasperated. Other shoulder? She thought? Other breast? What the hell did he mean? And why would Michael be discussing any of those things in a briefing?

Mendez gave her an equally exasperated sigh. He didn’t know why it was that conversations with people were always so difficult. Give him a good computer any day, or any other type of machine. Now MACHINERY he could interface with, unlike humans…..

"Other SCAR, of course," he answered impatiently. "We talked about the scar your S.O.B. of a grandfather gave you…."

"WHAT?" Andie gasped. She was so shocked, she almost lost her grip on the sheet that covered her, letting it slip precariously low before she retrieved it again.

"There!" said Mendez, his eyes alight with fervent interest. He pointed to the spot she had just revealed to him , to the scar below her right breast. "That’s the one…"

Eagerly, but with an instinctive tenderness, Mendez carefully pushed back the sheet to take a good look at the scar he had glimpsed a moment before. His fingers, very lightly, wholly gentle, traced the outline of the regular pattern of marred flesh over her ribs.

Andie sat perfectly still, and numbly allowed the examination. She sensed instinctively that there was no lascivious intent to his touch, only a keen and purely scientific interest.

"My grandfather… scarred me?" she whispered, anguished, still struggling to process this concept. "Why?"

Mendez withdrew his hand from her skin and then carefully drew the sheet back up to her shoulders, tucking it in to cover her modestly. Settling beside her on the bed, he let out a sigh, his mouth twisting with disgust. "Because, number one, he’s a sick, totally f*cked up bastard, and number two, " the medical man went on, "he was probably trying to see if he could create in you a walking, talking, antidote supply cupboard on legs…"

Andie blinked, and shook her head. "I don’t understand…." She gasped. "Antidote…? … Supply cupboard??""

For once, Mendez was not impatient with her questions. He patted her knee gently. "Infants have the most responsive immune systems," he began softly. "Your grandfather was into some pretty exotic and volatile designer viruses and assorted deadly bugs, SO…." He continued with a sigh, "I guess when you were born, he saw his opportunity to get the fail-safe he needed, a back-up in case any of his nasty little bacteria creations got out of hand…."

Andie clutched her midriff, her hands folded protectively over the scar that she knew now had been deliberately inflicted by her own flesh and blood. "My grandfather exposed me to his… his man-made plagues, and I recovered, and that’s why my tears cured everyone… "

She let out a sharp breath, and turned angry eyes to the doctor beside her. "I thought it was some MIRACLE or something, a special blessing, that I was able to cure this plague, but it wasn’t a miracle at all, was it?" she choked out. "It had nothing to do with chance, or Providence….."

"No," Mendez answered sympathetically. "It didn’t." He let out a sigh of his own. "Michael figured it out in the briefing. He realized that your grandfather wanted to retrieve you because you had all the immunities he needed, and he didn’t want you falling into anyone else’s hands…"

Andie blanched suddenly, the idea that came to her next almost making her gag. "Do you think it was no accident that Section located me?" she blurted out. She turned wide, frightened eyes to Mendez. "What if my grandfather leaked that information himself, so that he would have a chance to poison Section, or any other enemy that showed up to kidnap me?"

Mendez nodded slowly. "You may be on to something," he commented softly. "Hell, your theory is a little paranoid, but it makes damn good sense…"

He scratched the dark fuzz on his scalp, and let out a wry laugh. "Jesus, the bastard could lure out all his enemies with that trap. He’d infect them at the swap, they’d go back to their headquarters and infect everyone else. And then they’d die, never knowing that they had traded away the antidote they needed all along…."

"But his plan didn’t work this time," Andie whispered. "He didn’t retrieve me, and you discovered the antidote before it was too late…."

She sat up straighter on the bed, a determined look coming over her face. "We have to make sure he never uses me that way again," she declared stubbornly. "We have to make sure he never gets the chance to hurt anyone again…."

Strangely, the idea of her grandfather’s insidious manipulation of her did not sting her at all, it only made her angry. The idea that Michael might have used her just as callously was what had hurt her to the quick. Now a new joy sang in her heart. Her hero had not betrayed her after all- his love, his words, his touch , had all been real, not a cruel illusion.

"Michael will take care of your grandfather," Mendez warned her gently. "That’s his job.." He held up the needle, and gave her a bright smile. "Your job is to let me stick you with this needle, and then play the damsel in distress, got it?"

Andie grinned back, and offered him her scarred shoulder once more. She hardly felt it as the needle went in- he was right, she thought- the tracker didn’t hurt when inserted in nerve-deadened tissue. "Got it," she agreed happily. "Thank you," she told Mendez softly, and then, impulsively, overcome with gratitude, she kissed him.

"Holy SH*T!" Mendez shouted, then grinned ear to ear.

Life was good, he thought. Really good. That is, it would be, as long as Michael didn’t find out that all his women had a weakness for a certain irresistible man of science, he thought smugly……….

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

Before she knew it , the mission was underway. Andie, dressed now in her school clothes of jeans, blouse, and sweater, found herself in the staging area outside of van access among the swarm of milling operatives loading for the mission.

Mendez stood protectively beside her in the crowd. He, too, would be going along with the teams that would be following Andie to her grandfather’s hide-a-way, and his storehouse of biological weapons of death. The med-tech was thrilled to be in on this great adventure, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Isn’t this just too f*ckin’ COOL?" he gushed enthusiastically, eager as a child on Christmas morning.

Andie ignored the hubbub and Mendez’s comments, looking forlornly around the corridor at the operatives rushing by, wondering if she would see Michael. She longed to speak to him, just one last time, to apologize. She didn’t want his last memory of her to be her words of cold rejection. If only she had the chance for one last good-bye, she thought, or even just a glimpse….

A soft voice behind her made her jump, her heart leaping in her throat.

"Andrea…" the rich, musical voice said her name, low and sweet.

She whirled, her eyes lighting up. "Michael!"

He was wearing an intimidating array of weapons over mission blacks, gun strapped to his thigh, Kevlar vest bristling with ammo, his ear sprouting a sleek communication device, also in black. The look in his eyes was intimidating as well. Gone was the warmth, the emotion, and the humanity- Michael had turned that part of himself off. It was the machine-Michael that stood in front of her now, his soul and heart as distant from her now as if he were on the other side of the earth, and not right here, close enough to touch….

Still, she dared to touch…

She reached for him, but he side-stepped her hand, deftly. For a moment, Andie thought she saw a flash of pain in his eyes, but it was there, and then gone, covered by the cold mask, so fleetingly quick that she thought she might have imagined it. To her hurt dismay, Michael did not respond to her calling of his name, or even look at her. He addressed his remarks to Mendez instead.

"Is the tracker in place?" he demanded curtly.

Mendez nodded happily. "All right and tight," he acknowledged with a grin. "Up tight, outta sight…."

Michael quelled him with a look, cold as ice. His stare was as blank as a closed door, which is how Andie viewed that his heart was to her. The look wrenched her, and filled her with despair. She wished she could talk to him, touch him, reach him somehow, before the mission was over, and there was no chance at all……

Again, Michael addressed Mendez, not Andie. "Take her to Walter and have him check to make sure the signal is transmitting," he ordered abruptly.

Mendez gave him another unabashedly smug grin. "Been there, done that, man," he answered. He leaned toward the auburn -haired operative and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’m digging the sh*t out of this Spy stuff, Dude…." Mendez confided. "Do you think you can get me a gun or something to carry on the mission, or maybe, you know, some cool gadget or nifty bomb or something?"

Michael paled, the idea of the bumbling Mendez handling firearms making him blanch. "Here, use these…." He offered, removing a pair of silver hand-cuffs from his belt and handing them to Mendez.

The med-tech/would-be-Spy stared at him dumbly, dangling the cuffs from one finger. "Use them on WHO?" he asked, confused. He had been hoping for something more high-tech than cuffs. Michael really knew how to snub a guy, he thought. Must be some kind of operative vs. Scientist rivalry thing, he guessed shrewdly.

The green eyes fell fully on Andie for the first time, his gaze chilling her with its remoteness. "On her," Michael said softly.

Mendez blinked. "WHAT?" he blurted out, bewildered. "Why?"

Andie stood numb with shock, until Michael answered. "Because we need to give Racer the impression that she is our prisoner," he explained flatly.

Mendez said nothing, the cuffs still dangling slackly from his hand. He was beginning to think this cool Spy stuff had its down-side, after all. He made no move to shackle the girl beside him.

The three stood frozen and silent for a long, tense moment, then Michael snatched the cuffs from Mendez’s hand. "I’ll do it," he said tightly, and before Andie knew what was happening, he had clicked the cuffs closed around her wrists, binding her hands in front of her.

"Michael?" she gasped. "Michael, please…." She reached for him again, lifting her hands up to caress his face, but he pulled back from her once more, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Get her to van access," he ordered Mendez, and then turned on his heel and walked away, his back stiff with the effort to remain in control. He had not wanted to restrain her this way. Instead, he had wanted to cuff himself to her, had wanted to bind her to him always. He longed to touch her, to pull her into his arms for one last time, but he couldn’t. Not here in the middle of Section.

It was not the good-bye he wanted. He did not want this cold parting, but it was better this way. Better that Andie be angry at him, and disappointed. Perhaps disgusted, repulsed, even. She would get over him more quickly that way, not spend her days pining over what might have been, like he would……

Andie trembled with shock as she watched him walk away. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. This couldn’t be the last memory she had of him , his stiff back moving away from her, cutting her off from his presence, his touch, his love….

No, it was too horrible, she thought. She couldn’t endure it. She WOULDN’T. Not as long as there was breath in her body….

"STOP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Everybody, STOP!"

Beside her, Mendez jumped in shock. The operatives rushing by held still, and paused in their activities to look at her curiously. The room quieted. Michael’s quick steps slowed and came to a halt, his back still to her.

"YOU!" she yelled at her handsome lover. "Get back here, NOW!" Andie ordered, distraught and angry.

Slowly, Michael turned to face her. He held her look for a long moment, but came no closer, not trusting himself. It had taken all he had to reject her just now, and he didn’t know if he would be able to do it again. Still, he tried.

"Let’s go," he demanded, feigning anger. "We don’t have much time before the mission….."

Andie’s chin went up, defiantly. She planted her feet squarely apart, and glared at him. "I’m not going on your stupid mission," she hissed. "Not until you talk to me!" Andie was in a fine state of temper.

Michael’s eyes narrowed at this challenge. He took several steps closer, striding quickly forward. "Don’t talk nonsense," he chided her. "Of course you’re coming on the mission. NOW. There’s no time for this……."

He closed the space between them, and grabbed Andie by the arm to drag her along to the van. Before Michael could get even a few feet down the corridor with his captive, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder from behind. Michael twisted his head back to see who it was who had had the nerve to detain him.

It was Mendez. The earnest scientist stood glaring at him, the goofy, excited smile completely gone. "Let her go, man," Mendez requested tightly. "Or I’ll have to hurt you….."

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

The room froze, everyone present falling into stunned silence. The operatives witnessing this singular event could not believe that this mere Med-tech was daring to challenge a Class Five operative. Michael, no less.

"Christ, that kid is stupid," whispered a member of Team Three from the back of the hall. His words expressed what everyone was thinking, but was too shocked to say. "He’s dead meat……"

The men held their collective breaths, waiting for the black panther to strike.

But Michael, inexplicably, did not strike. Instead, he just stayed where he was, staring at Andie with tortured eyes, his hand still gripping her arm.

Mendez pressed his point home. "She saved your life, man," he said in earnest protest. "Hell, she saved this whole damn place…." He dropped his hand from Michael’s shoulder and stepped back. "C’mon, the least you can do for her is give her a few paltry minutes of your time to say good-bye…"

Michael shifted his head slightly and met Mendez’s eyes. The two men stared at each other, facing off. The room was still hushed and quiet, immersed deep in a tense and deadly silence. Then an amazing thing happened, an event that would go down in Section lore and legend.

Michael blinked. Blinked first. And then bowed his head. And then let out a sigh. A sigh of capitulation. And then he said….

"You’re right."

No one breathed as Michael’s hand slid down from its hard grip on Andie’s upper arm to cup her elbow gently. His eyes met hers, pleadingly.

"This way," he invited softly. "We’ll use my office…"

Andie let out a shaky breath and realized her knees were shaking as well. "Okay," she agreed in a whisper, relief flooding her, her heart soaring with hope once more. She smiled her brave smile. "Thank you…"

Michael smiled back, a bare quivering twist of his lips. Hope lit his eyes as well. The two held a long look, a wordless, but deep, understanding passing between them.

Michael drank her in, his heart in his eyes. Emotions welling in him, Michael found himself with an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He couldn’t help himself. She was so beautiful, so vulnerable, so sweet, and he desired more than anything this tender reconciliation before she was gone from him forever…

With a soft groan, he gave in to the impulsive urgings of his heart. He lowered his head and claimed Andie’s lips with his own. As his soft mouth pressed hard against hers, the hushed crowd broke into cheers. Mendez was the loudest among them.

"Woo hoooo!" he yelled, almost yodeling. "Way to go, Dude!"

The couple broke apart, and the crowd continued to laugh and applaud as Michael led the blushing Andie down through the corridors to the quiet sanctuary of his office.

Neither spoke until they were inside with the door locked and the window blinds firmly closed. Andie moved first, lifting her cuffed hands to rest on his broad chest and leaning close. "I didn’t mean to cause a scene back there, Michael," she began shyly, focusing her gaze at the base of his strong throat, not daring just yet to raise her eyes to his. "I just had to have a chance to say…"

"…..Good-bye?" Michael finished for her, holding her close.

Andie shook her head. "No," she told him in a small voice. "Not good-bye…." She looked up into his eyes, hers a glowing, earnest blue. "I needed to tell you I’m sorry…."

Michael blinked, and reflexively tightened his grip on her shoulders in astonishment. "Sorry?" he choked out. "My God, what on earth would you have to be sorry about?" he blurted out in shock.

Andie trembled, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I’m sorry about misjudging you," she whispered. "I should have known you didn’t tell them about my… secrets - my scars-at the briefing out of callousness…."

Michael held his breath, his mind whirling. "How do you know that?" he gasped out softly. He knew Andie had assumed that he had done just that, and he had done nothing to change her interpretation of events; Michael had not wanted her to know anything about how heinous her grandfather had really been to her.

The answer to his own question came to him as soon as he had spoken it. "Mendez?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Andie nodded. "He told me about the experiments my grandfather performed on me…."

Michael closed his eyes, and pulled her closer. He let out a shaky sigh. "I’m sorry," he said softly, a muscle in his jaw working tightly. "So very, very, sorry, Andrea. I didn’t want you to know…."

Andie blinked back her tears, and tilted her head up to look at him. "I don’t care what he did to me, Michael," she whispered hoarsely. "He’s a bastard. A murderer. He’s nothing to me…."

She stroked her hand down Michael’s lean cheek. "I don’t care about him or about the scars he left on me," she insisted stubbornly. "All that matters is that what he did to me let me save you….."

The tears fell freely down her face. "I only care about YOU, Michael…" she finished with a sob, and then she lifted her mouth to his, and kissed him.

Michael let himself melt against her then, his mouth blending in sweet union with hers. He felt her hot tears on his face, and tasted the poignant salt of them on his lips as the kiss went on.

"Andrea…" he moaned, breaking the kiss. "I care about you, too…." He confessed. "I didn’t want you to be hurt by your grandfather’s betrayal…"

She let out a sobbing laugh. "Nothing can ever hurt me, Michael," she vowed, "As long as I know you’re okay……"

She kissed his cheek in a tender caress. "Remember, you promised…."

Michael let out a soft laugh, and pulled her closer, resting his chin on her silky hair. "I remember, Your Highness," he teased in a gentle tone, his heart light. "Your servant will obey…."

Andie chuckled. "See that you do…" she chided him sweetly.

Andie met the green eyes, watching them shift from sublime contentment to deep sorrow. She knew this was the last time she would look into that noble, charming face.

"After the mission, you’ll let me know you’re okay," she said again, anxiously. "And… and you promised to be happy…" she pleaded breathlessly. "You promised to live happily ever after…"

Michael blinked back sharp tears. "I promise," he answered huskily.

Andie smiled, dazzling him with the brightness of the light of her soul shining in her eyes. "Thank you, My Prince…" she whispered, and then stood on tip-toe to kiss him again, one last time.

They clutched each other fiercely, clinging tight, the kiss desperate, deep, and wrenchingly bittersweet.

An acerbic booming voice from the intercom jolted them apart. "Michael!" Operations barked tartly. "Where are you? The mission is loading!" the Section leader commanded impatiently. "Michael?"

Reluctantly, the couple stepped back from each other. Michael looked at Andie longingly. "On my way," he answered Operations, not taking his eyes off hers.

Andie smiled bravely. "Let’s go, then," she encouraged him softly.

Silently, Michael nodded, and led her to the door, his arm around her shoulders. Before he opened the door to leave, he turned to Andie and, raising her cuffed hands to his lips, he softly kissed them.

"You will always be my beautiful, beautiful Princess…" he choked out hoarsely. "Always…"

Andie smiled bravely through her tears. "I do adore you so, My Prince, you know that?" she told him, trembling with emotion.

Michael gasped, a kaleidoscope of feelings wrenching him all at once, pulling him in two different directions, joy warring with despair inside him. He marveled at how his heart could be soaring so high and breaking so painfully at the same time. This moment of gaining her love, only to lose it, tore him apart.

Unaware that he was crying, Michael took her hand in his and led her out into the corridor and down the hall, the devoted Prince escorting his Beloved Princess one last time.

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

When the couple entered the staging area, they were met by wild cheers. The operatives waiting at van access all smiled indulgently, their eyes soft on Andie. She had saved them from the plague; each individual present owed his own life, or the life of a comrade, to her.

Michael felt a warm glow in his heart, knowing that, like him, everyone on the teams admired her as much as he did, and would do anything to protect her.

The brightest smile of all belonged to Mendez.

"Right this way, Kid!" he invited Andie with a grin, gesturing to the open door of the van behind him. "I’ve saved you a seat next to me…"

Andie smiled back and went to move toward him. Before she had taken two steps, Michael reached out his hand and pulled her back to stand by his side. "No. You’ll go in the next van, with Team One…" he explained softly.

Andie looked up at him, her face brightening. "With you?" she asked hopefully.

Michael shook his head solemnly. "No," he said sorrowfully. "I’ll be with Team Two. We want Racer to think I carried the plague back from the mission, infected everyone, and died, along with the rest of Section…."

"I see," said Andie, nodding. With a sigh, she turned to Mendez.

"This is good-bye then," she said softly, gazing fondly at the med-tech who had helped her and all the other victims of her grandfather’s designer weapons. She knew that hidden behind his clumsy, clueless and crude exterior, there lay a sweet, compassionate, well-meaning soul inside. Impulsively, Andie stepped quickly forward to kiss a startled Mendez warmly on the lips.

When the brief, but fervent, kiss was over, Mendez stood in wide-eyed shock for a moment, and then broke out in a dazzling grin. To their surprise, he did a little victory dance, turning in a circle and raising his hands high in the air.

"F*ckin’-A!!" he crowed triumphantly. "Man, the babes just DIG me!" he leered at Andie. "Between you and that hot little number, Nikita, who can’t keep her lips off me, I’ve been just about kissed to death lately…"Mendez bragged happily. He let out a giddy chuckle, until he glanced up at Michael.

The handsome operative’s eyes were green indeed. And angry. He stared intimidatingly at the hapless Mendez, his look conveying a cold, imminent, and no doubt deadly, threat.

"Oh, SH*T…." gasped Mendez, seeing his life pass before his eyes once again. "Oh, SH*T….."

Andie came to the rescue, stepping between the two men. "Michael," she pleaded, her lips quirking up at the corners. "Don’t kill him, okay?"

Michael regarded her solemnly. "Why not?" he asked in a serious tone.

Andie broke out into a smile. "I was there when Nikita kissed him," she explained with a twinkle in he eye. "It was in Medlab, and Mendez had just told us that you weren’t dead……"

"Yeah, yeah…that’s right, Dude!" Mendez pleaded, his eyes still wide with fear. "It was a token gratitude kind of thing, ya know?" he begged. "PURELY platonic, very brother-sister…." He swallowed hard, and went on begging. "No tongue, I swear!" he blurted out. "Okay?" he squeaked.

Very slowly, the stony-faced Michael smiled. "I …. see," he said wryly.

Andie giggled. "Promise you won’t kill him, Michael," she said again, for Mendez’ benefit. She knew very well that Michael had no plans to hurt the newly-heroic and terrified med-tech.

Michael nodded slowly. "I promise," Michel vowed solemnly. Then, to Mendez’s utter astonishment, Michael stepped forward and held out his hand to him.

Mendez blinked, then grinned, and then vigorously shook the offered hand, pumping Michael’s arm up and down enthusiastically. Beaming happily at this gesture of friendship, Mendez offered his own friendship back. What his offer lacked in finesse, was made up for in bubbling sincerity.

"Gee, thanks, Dude!" Mendez gushed. He let go of Michael’s hand and slapped him on the back. "Hey, Mike," he went on, his voice totally sincere and innocent. "You think maybe you and I can be buds from now on?" he asked fervently. ""You know, we could get together, hang out, knock back a few beers, shoot the breeze, talk about chicks…" Mendez gasped. "Oops! Sh*t! Uh, I mean…. uh…" he stammered to a halt, afraid again. He dropped his hand from Michael’s shoulder and jumped back, cowering against the van.

To his audience’s shock, and Mendez’s great relief, Michael smiled. He answered in a way no one had expected. "Maybe," he promised gently.

There was a moment of stunned silence at this improbable announcement, and then the crowd of operatives broke out into cheers once more.

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

From behind Michael in the cheering crowd, a husky female voice spoke over his shoulder.

"I’ll take her now," the voice said gruffly.

Andie, at Michael’s side, turned to meet the blue eyes of the operative behind her, taking in the blond hair done up in a top-knot, and the unrelieved black of her mission attire, complete with a gun on her thigh, like Michael’s.

"Nikita?" Andie said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" She gave a curious look to Michael, who’s smile had faded, and who now stood stony-faced beside her.

"Nikita is Team One," he informed her flatly. "She’ll be taking you to the swap point."

"Oh!" blurted Andie, suddenly tense in the other woman’s presence, now that she was aware, thanks to Mendez, of Nikita’s relationship to Michael.

The atmosphere between Michael and Nikita was tense as well. "It’s time for her to go, Michael," Nikita said softly, her eyes searching his with a hurt expression. "I’m sorry."

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, as if to shut out the pain, and then he nodded. "You’re right…" He turned to Andie, his hand brushing against hers. "You have to go now."

Michael glanced up to look past Andie, his eyes met and locked with Nikita’s. "Take care of her for me," he begged softly.

Nikita swallowed hard, and nodded. "I will." She gave Michael a brave, tremulous smile, her heart in her eyes.

Andie watched the two, seeing the wordless exchange of tenderness between them, knowing that each sensed the other’s pain. There was a palpable connection between the two handsome operatives, each so beautiful, Andie thought, each so strong, so perfectly matched. It was very clear to her. Michael and Nikita loved each other.

Andie sighed, squared her shoulders, and impulsively stood on tiptoe and gave Michael one last farewell kiss, her lips just brushing his strong jaw. "Goodbye, Michael," she said lightly, forcing a bright smile. Then, before he could reach for her, or kiss her back, she whirled on her heel and walked away, forcing Nikita to follow beside her.

Andie quickened her pace, walking out to the van, and out of Michael’s life, forever. She knew that he was safe, that he was loved, and that he would survive without her. And with that knowledge, she had the strength to go on.

Even though the hot, stinging tears fell from her eyes, she walked on, holding her head high, and never looked back.

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

Andie spent the long ride in the van to the swap site in numb silence. Sitting in the passenger seat while Nikita drove, her cuffed hands lying limply in her lap, Andie stared out the window at the dreary scenery and tried to shut her mind off, tried not to think, or feel anything. Because she knew if she did, the true enormity of her shattering loss would overwhelm her.

Despite herself, she thought of Michael. His safety, his feelings, his love. She thought of the touch she would never feel again, the sensation of his body joined with hers…

Angrily, she bit her lip and shook her head to free her mind from this train of thought. And then, feeling guilty, she thought of herself. What would happen now, after her grandfather had been "taken care of" by Section? She knew it was crass to think about money, but, even though it had been for his own selfish purposes, her grandfather HAD supported her. Andie wondered disconsolately how she would pay for school now, where she would live, what she would do. She had no one, no family. Vainly, she tried not to feel bitter at how Fate had contrived for her to save Section and many innocent lives, and in doing so, essentially destroy her own.

And not just her own, she thought despairingly.

Her anger turned inward. It had been stupid of her, foolish, she thought, to fall in love with Michael. She should have known a man like that, so deep, so complicated, so compellingly sensual, would already have someone to love in his life, someone who loved him. Tensely, she turned to gaze forlornly at the woman beside her.

"Nikita?" Andie said softly.

"Yeah?" the blonde answered quickly back, taken by surprise that her passenger had at last spoken. She had sensed Andie’s silent discomfort and stress, and had chalked it up to nerves about the mission. "We’re almost there," Nikita explained soothingly. "You’ll have to go alone once Racer’s men retrieve you, but the Teams will be right behind you…"

She glanced briefly from the road to smile reassuringly at the young girl beside her. "Remember, we have the tracker on you," Nikita went on. "As soon as you are taken to your grandfather, we’ll come in, take him out, and pull you out of there…." Nikita reached out to pat Andie’s knee. "It’ll be okay," she said softly. "Don’t worry…"

Andie let out a long sigh. "I’m not worried about the mission, Nikita."

The blonde’s eyes widened. "What are you worried about, then?"

Andie shifted nervously in her seat, and licked her lips. "I’m worried about you," she answered in a quavering voice. "About you and Michael."

Nikita tensed. "About me… and Michael?" she gasped.

Andie nodded, and turned her face away to stare blindly out the van window. "I didn’t mean to ruin anything between you," she said in a small voice. "I didn’t mean to hurt anyone…"

Andie let out a sob and buried her face in her cuffed hands. "I just seemed to manage to screw everything up without intending to…" she cried in bitter self-recrimination. "Your life, mine, Michael’s…."

They had reached the swap point, and Nikita swung the van into the gates of the warehouse, put the vehicle in park, and then turned to face the weeping girl.

"Don’t be silly. You didn’t ruin anything," she told Andie bracingly. "You saved Michael’s life. You saved us all….."

Andie lifted tear-filled eyes to the woman beside her. "Maybe…" she said hoarsely. "But that doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you, Nikita…" Her mouth tightened grimly. "You know I did."

Nikita sighed, and bit back her automatic protest. Flicking her com unit to receive only, the operative scanned the area, and then, satisfied that Racer’s men had not arrived yet, gave her attention to Andie.

"Okay, it hurt," Nikita admitted. "It hurt A LOT…" Nikita’s hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles going white. "Of course I didn’t like knowing that you had been with Michael. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for us.."

Andie blinked, and then gasped in surprise. "It wasn’t?" she choked out, bewildered. "How could that be?"

Nikita sighed again, and smiled ruefully. "Because it made me realize that you gave him something I wasn’t providing for him, something he needed that I withheld……"

Andie’s mind whirled. Withheld? What could that mean?

"Are you saying that you and Michael never….that you haven’t…" Andie stammered tensely, then stopped, blushing.

Nikita gave her the charming, rueful smile again, and then laughed. "That we never made love?" she finished. She shook her head. "No, that’s not what I denied him…" She laughed again, her voice wistful and sad. "It wasn’t in bed that I withheld from him…….."

Andie swallowed hard. "What, then?" she asked in a whisper. "What did I give him that he couldn’t get from you?"

Nikita groaned and closed her eyes. "My trust," she whispered roughly. "My unconditional faith…."

Andie blinked, trying to process this revelation. "But you do, Nikita!" she protested. "I saw you at his bedside, I saw you working together on the mission….’ Andie shook her head. "No one could be more supportive and caring than you……."

Nikita grunted. "YOU could," she responded quickly. "Michael turned to you because YOU gave him what he needed…….."

"No, Nikita, you have it wrong!" Andie insisted. "*I* was the one who was in need…" she bit back tears. "Michael was the one who supported ME…"

She turned her head to face Nikita, determined to give Michael this one last gift, a healing between him and Nikita. "The last time I was here, in this van, when the swap went wrong, when Michael was unconscious …" she paused, and took a deep breath. "He called your name," Andie said softly. "He was hurt, in pain, and he called for you. When I touched him, he called for you…."

"Michael needs you, Nikita," Andie begged. "Please, don’t give up on him now…"

Nikita bowed her head, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, the tears streaming down. She began crying silently.

Andie shifted in her seat, aware of the press of time, aware that this was her last chance to help the man she loved. "Promise me you won’t give up on Michael, Nikita," she pleaded urgently. "Promise me you’ll be the one to love him now, enough for both of us," she choked. "Promise me you’ll take care of him for me…"

"Please…." Andie begged.

Nikita lifted her head, and opened soft blue eyes, their depths crystalline with tears. "I promise," she sighed out on a shaky breath. "I promise…"

Andie smiled, and then, a moment later, so did Nikita. The women had only this brief second to exchange their look of understanding, before they were jolted back to the present, their attention riveted once more on the mission.

"Vehicle approaching," crackled Birkoff’s voice in Nikita’s ear. She looked up to see an ominous black van entering the warehouse gates.

Her tears drying, body tense and alert, Nikita switched instantly to mission-mode. She gave a warning glance to Andie, who had gone pale, sitting wide-eyed with fright beside her.

"Here we go," Nikita said dryly, and got out of the van.

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

This time the swap went smoothly, with no hidden surprises, as before. Nikita marveled at how ordinary and business-like the transaction took place. Again, just as had happened previously, two white suited men in biohazard garb emerged from the back of the black van. One of them carried a small metal valise, presumably containing the promised antidote.

The men approached the Section vehicle slowly. One of them called out to Nikita, who was lounging casually just outside the driver’s side door of the Section van.

"We have what you want," Racer’s man yelled. "Where’s the girl?"

Nikita stared at him appraisingly for a long moment, then turned to Andie in the passenger seat and gave her a firm nod. "She’s here," Nikita answered, and walked around the front of the van to open Andie’s door for her and assist her down from the van. Nikita could feel the girl trembling as she helped her step out onto the concrete. Andie was pale, her whole body taut with tension.

"We’ll be right behind you, remember…" Nikita muttered reassuringly under her breath to the girl, patting her arm. Andie gave her a slight nod, indicating she had understood. Her eyes were bright with fear, her expression grave.

Racer’s man placed the metal case on the ground and shoved it forward, at the same time that Nikita shoved Andie toward the men.

Slowly, the girl began walking- stiffly, reluctantly- to the other vehicle. Nikita watched her go, apprehensively putting her hand on the handle of the gun strapped to her thigh, and feeling a sudden pang of loss as Andie left her side. She realized suddenly with a sharp pain in her heart that she was losing a good friend.

When Andie drew near enough, one of the men grabbed her arm and helped her into the back of the black van. Racer’s men climbed in behind her, and shut the doors, not giving Nikita a second glance.

Nikita stood her ground, not approaching the metal container sitting ominously on the concrete, and watched Racer’s men drive away with their precious cargo.

She let out a sigh, and tapped her com-unit. "Transaction complete," she reported huskily. "Team Two, go," she ordered. "Mendez, you can come out now."

From behind the warehouse door, a white-suited figure emerged, carrying a small case of equipment, and came loping forward. The biohazard gear covered all his features, rendering the man unrecognizable, except for his eager gait and the enthusiastic swearing that came out of his mouth.

Nikita smiled to herself. There was no mistaking Mendez, she thought. He was totally, distinctively unique, that was for sure.

"F*ckin’ A!" the med-tech exclaimed, his voice slightly muffled through his helmet. He knelt by the case Racer’s men had left, and waved at Nikita. "Get back, Nikita," he yelled at her, then rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation. "Okay, let’s see what that son -of -a -bitch low-life slime-ball left for us…." Mendez declared, and gingerly flipped the case open.

Nikita watched apprehensively as Mendez froze still as a statue, staring down at the contents of the case. Even through the obscuring suit he wore, Nikita could tell by the tension in Mendez’s stance that what he saw inside had shocked and distressed him.

"Mendez, what is it?" Nikita called anxiously. "What’s in there?"

The med-tech was silent for a long moment, and then he rose from his crouch and staggered back from the case, swearing furiously. "Jesus Christ!" he yelled angrily. "That mother-f*ckin’ murdering BASTARD!" he screamed.

Nikita tensed, her hand going automatically to her gun, even though she knew it would be no protection against the kind of biological weapon Racer might have sent them.

"Mendez!" she yelled. "Do you need back-up? Should I call in Containment?"

To her surprise, the young medical man let out a harsh laugh, and then pulled his helmet off, revealing flashing brown eyes, and skin flushed red with fury. "F*ck, no," he answered her gruffly, and then picked up the case Racer had left for them, and held it upside down.

There was nothing inside.

Mendez dropped the case to the ground, and then gave it a vicious kick with his white-booted foot. He stripped off his gloves angrily and stalked to Nikita’s side, his eyes bright with rage.

"Racer didn’t send us any antidote," he spat out tensely. "He didn’t send us anything. He was just going to let us die…"

He looked away for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working. When he turned back, Nikita was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "And now that heartless bastard has Andie…" Mendez choked out.

Nikita smiled grimly and gripped Mendez by the arm, pulling him toward the van. "Not for long, he won’t," she promised him. "Let’s go get her…"

Mendez wiped a tear from his eye and then smiled gratefully back. He felt recovered enough to swear enthusiastically.

"All-F*ckin’- RIGHT!" he yelled, and then clambered into the van.

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

Andie’s trip in the van to her grandfather’s lair was not unlike her trip to Section a short time before. One kidnapping was eerily like the other, she thought, except this time there was no green-eyed, soft-spoken abductor to charm her fears away.

As before, she was patted down and searched (the tracker remaining undetected), and shoved into a seat. A hood was placed over her head, and then the men sat on either side of her as the van rumbled on to its destination.

Andie strained uncomfortably against the hand-cuffs that the men had left on her. She was now getting heartily sick of them. She longed to be free; she longed for all this mess to be over. And most of all, sitting blind and helpless, captive between Racer’s men, she longed for her hero, Michael.

Underneath the hood, she bit her lip and stifled her tears, trying to wait out the time bravely until she was rescued. After what seemed like hours, at last the van stopped, and she heard the rear doors of the vehicle open.

"Let’s go," one of the men grunted roughly, and hauled Andie to her feet. Stumbling out of the van, Andie was led by her captors through an outdoor area and into a house. Still blind and hooded, she staggered awkwardly up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. At last her guards halted just outside a doorway, and shoved her into the upstairs room.

The hood was lifted from her, and then the handcuffs removed. Andie stood blinking dazedly at the sudden light, and then looked up to meet the eyes of a merry looking white-haired old man.

"Welcome, my Dear," said her grandfather, smiling. "So glad you could join us."

Andie said nothing, just stared at him blankly. The old man beamed at her kindly, and then waved her escorts away. "Leave us," he ordered his men, and then he gestured at a nearby chair, across from the one in which he sat in front of the fireplace.

"Please sit down," he invited warmly. "You must be exhausted." He lifted a silver tea-pot from a tray on the low table in front of him. "Do you care for tea?" he asked politely.

Awash in a sense of profound unreality, Andie at last found her voice. "Please," she agreed meekly to tea, and stumbled forward to drop into the offered chair, not sure her wobbly knees would hold her up any longer.

As her grandfather poured her tea, Andie had a chance to get her bearings, and look around the room. It was a large drawing room, elegantly furnished, all the appointments understated, but screaming of wealth.

"You like my house?" Racer said quietly, in an amused tone, handing his granddaughter her tea.

Andie accepted the cup from him, and then leaned back in her chair. "It’s… very nice," she said politely, unnerved by the bizarreness of this improbable conversation.

"Good," the old man laughed, his eyes gleaming merrily. "You’ll be staying here with me from now on,’ he told her casually, sipping his tea. "Until I send you out again."

Andie blinked. "Send.. me out?" she blurted, confused.

The old man nodded enthusiastically. He leaned toward her, his eyes dancing. "Yes, my Dear. Send you out. Just like I did this time when I sent you to Section."

He took another sip of tea and smacked his lips appreciatively. "Ahhh," he sighed in satisfaction. "It went well, didn’t it?"

"W-Well?" Andie echoed, bewildered.

Racer leaned back in his chair. "Yes. They’re all dead now, aren’t they?"

Andie gasped in shock. She had been right. Her grandfather had leaked her whereabouts to deliberately entrap the agencies looking for him into a swap, setting them up to be annihilated by the deadly designer virus he had created.

A designer virus he knew she was immune to. He believed Section to be destroyed. And now he was planning on using her to entrap and kill again.

"Y-Yes.." she choked out. "They’re all dead…" A chill of hatred went through her at her grandfather’s glee about their supposed deaths.

"Very, very good," Racer gloated happily. "I always told your father you would make a fine addition to the team, but the fool never listened…."

Andie froze at this derogatory comment about her dead father, anger flaring through her so intense that she almost screamed and came out of her seat. She clamped down hard on this emotion, forcing herself to listen as the old man went on.

"He didn’t want you involved in any part of my business, and he was furious when I went behind his back to have you inoculated anyway.." The old man smiled smugly. "But you can see now how beneficial it's been," he went on with a nod of his gray head.

"You’re healthy as a horse, never sick, and now that I have achieved enough wealth and success in my business to draw the attention of the agencies wanting to stop me, YOU, my dear Andrea, are here…"

He blew her a kiss, and finished, "…. To help me stop THEM instead…"

Andie bit her lip hard to keep from screaming at him. She wanted to curse him, wanted to strike him, to slap the gloating grin off his face as he talked so callously about using her to kill, and about how he had used and deceived her father.

A harsh sob escaped her. Her father had been a kind, sweet, gentle man. Nothing like this horrible monster in front of her. How could she be related to this killer, she wondered, this full-blown psychopath? She knew now that her grandfather had long ago lost all rationality. He was totally, completely insane.

Racer ignored her distress; in fact, he was incapable of comprehending it. He remained in his own happy version of reality.

"We’ll target the F.B.I. next," he continued blithely. "Or perhaps the NSA…." He hummed a happy tune, put down his teacup, and rose from his chair. He gestured to the door.

"Come, My Dear," he encouraged her. "We’ll go downstairs to the dining room. I believe Cook has dinner ready by now…"

Andie stumbled to her feet, feeling numb. "Yes, Grandfather," she choked out meekly, playing the role of dutiful child that he seemed to expect.

Racer smiled and took her arm. "After dinner, we can plan your next assignment…" he told her cheerfully.

Andie shuddered as he touched her, and then she looked up into her grandfather’s blank blue eyes, and shuddered again, sensing instinctively that there was no soul behind them.

Whistling happily, Racer led her to the stairs. Just before he could descend from the landing to the top step, a window in the hallway was shattered as gunshots cracked from outside.

Section, resurrected from the dead, had arrived.

Andie flinched at the sound, and then flinched again as she felt a sharp pain bite into her shoulder. She crumpled to her knees and then fell on her side, sprawling across the top of the landing.

She was already unconscious before she hit the ground, and did not see her grandfather clutch his chest as the bullets ripped through him, nor did she see him fall tumbling down the stairs to his death, never to hurt anyone again.

It was over.

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

Andie moaned softly and opened her eyes. The glare from white walls and the smell of disinfectant assailed her senses. She was in a hospital, she thought, but which one? Was she in Medlab again? Letting out a gasp, she struggled to sit up. "Mendez?" she whispered. "Michael?"

The movement caused a wrenching pain in her side, above and below her right breast. Falling back on the pillows, she ran her hand down the site of the pain, feeling the thick bandages that swaddled her scars. Andie trembled. What had they done to her? What had HE done to her?

"Grandfather!" she called out, sobbing, panicked. "Grandfather!"

The door to the room burst open and a familiar, female figure rushed in. Plump, gray-haired, with gentle blue eyes, Mrs. Henderson, her dorm mother, bustled to Andie’s bedside.

"Shhh, Darling," the old lady said gently. "Just rest…" She patted Andie’s arm and smiled tremulously down at her, tears in her eyes. "I’m so sorry about your grandfather…"

Andie blinked, confused, then closed her eyes, and let out a sigh. "What … happened?"

Mrs. Henderson’s face crumpled, and she let out a sharp sob. "It was a terrible car accident.." she told the girl gently, her voice trembling.

Andie blanched, flash-backing on the car wreck that had killed her parents. Her mind whirled. Shaking her head in confusion, she repeated Mrs. Henderson’s words, blankly. "Car… accident?"

The old lady squeezed her hand. "Yes, Dear," she replied softly, taking a deep breath before going on. "You disappeared on Friday night, and no one knew where you were. I was frantic…"

Andie nodded numbly. Friday had been the day she had been kidnapped by Section- the day she met Michael.

"I didn’t know what had happened to you, until your Mr. Prince called me last night and explained everything," the dorm mother went on. "And then, of course, I came right here to the hospital to see you…."

Andie blinked, more confused than ever. Her head ached. Talking to Mrs. Henderson was a bit like talking to Mendez, without the swear words, of course.

"Mr. Prince?" the young patient asked. "Who is that? And what happened to my grandfather?" Andie struggled to sit up again, becoming agitated.

Mrs. Henderson pushed her gently back down on the pillows, her lower lip trembling. "Mr. Prince is the estate lawyer who has been handling all your grandfather’s affairs these past few days, since the accident, when your grandfather … died….." the old lady choked out. She wiped her eyes, patted Andie’s arm again and went on.

"You see, Dear, apparently Friday night your grandfather came to pick you up from school, and on the way back to his house, he lost control of the car, and skidded off the road.." she frowned sadly. "The doctors think he had a stroke while he was driving…" She took a shaky breath. "He was killed instantly when the car hit a tree. You were injured, unconscious, and brought here to the hospital…"

Andie tossed her head on the pillow. "Oh…" she gasped, understanding a little. Michael had told her she would be returned to school- she guessed this was Section’s way of inserting her back into her old life, with a correct cover story to explain her absence and her missing time from school. The outside world would never know what had really happened.

"I see," Andie said, letting out a sigh. The reality of her situation hit her. She was back, the mission was over, and Michael was gone. She would never see him again. She closed her eyes and let the tears slowly fall.

"I’m so sorry, Dear," Mrs. Henderson said again. She groped for words of comfort for the bereaved child on the bed, wishing to tell her some good news. "There’s no need for you to do anything but rest and get well, Andie," the old lady said gently. "Mr. Prince has made all the arrangements for the burial, the funeral, and so on. As well as all the financial and legal procedures to see that you inherit and have access to your grandfather’s considerable estate…"

Andie opened her eyes, struggling to take this in. "I’m going to get my grandfather’s money?" she blurted out. "I won’t have to leave school?"

Mrs. Henderson was taken aback by Andie’s stunned expression, but wrote it off as shock. Obviously the poor girl was still concussed, and not thinking clearly.

"Of course, Dear," she said in a bracing tone. "You are his sole heir, of course you will get your grandfather’s money," she explained patiently. "And of course you will return to school, as soon as you are well……"

Andie touched the bandages on her side once more, and looked at the kindly old lady at her bedside with fear in her eyes. "What happened to me?" she asked anxiously, breathless.

The old lady gave her a compassionate look. "It’s all right, Dear," she told the frightened girl gently. "You had some rather bad lacerations, on your shoulder and across your ribs, but the doctors have done a wonderful job…" She smiled encouragingly. "Your plastic surgeon said that by the time the bandages come off , you won’t even be able to see the scars…"

Andie gasped and clutched her side. "No …. scars??" she choked out. "I won’t have any scars?" Her eyes grew wide, and she trembled violently, her mind reeling. Not only had Section arranged to return her back to school, they had also seen to it that she was provided for financially, something she had never expected. And, amazingly, above all that, they had eliminated from her body the last traces of her grandfather’s evil experiments, just as they had seen to it that her grandfather himself was eliminated, and would never hurt anyone again….

No, she amended in her thoughts. Section hadn’t cared about her, her future, her school work. Section hadn’t cared how damaged she had felt by her scars. It wasn’t Section that had done these things.

Not Section, she realized with a gasp. Michael. Michael had arranged all this. She sobbed out his name, the name of the man who loved her so…

"Michael…" Andie moaned aloud. "Michael…"

Mrs. Henderson smiled at her. "Yes, Michael was very pleased with the doctor’s report," she said with a nod. "He seemed very concerned about you…."

Andie’s breath caught in her throat. "Michael?" she choked out, eyes wide. "Michael was here?"

"Yes Dear," the old lady explained patiently, a little dismayed at how disoriented her young charge was. "I told you about him being here already, remember?" She nodded her gray head vigorously. "Michael Prince, your grandfather’s lawyer…."

Andie froze, stunned, unable to breathe. Michael ……. Michael, her Prince…

It was the sign she had asked for, the signal that he had promised, to let her know he was alive and well.

To let her know he still loved her.

Overcome, Andie let out a hysterical laughing sob, her heart wrenched simultaneously with intense joy and a profound sorrow. She began to cry softly.

Mrs. Henderson watched Andie solemnly for several moments, and then stood, and stepped back from the side of the bed. She knew it was time to let the young patient process all that she had told her, and let her be alone to grieve.

"I’ll go now, Darling," the old lady said tenderly. "But I’ll be close by, if you need me….."

Andie turned bright, tear-filled eyes to the motherly figure beside her. "Thank you," she said softly, realizing that Michael had arranged for her to have the comfort of Mrs. Henderson’ presence, too, along with his other gifts.

The old lady nodded, teary-eyed. "You’re welcome, Darling," she replied softly, and turned to go. Before she reached the door, she turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot…" Mrs. Henderson said, and pointed to a bulky manila envelope on the night-stand.

"Mr. Prince left that for you. I suppose it’s estate papers and things…" she tilted her head, and gave another small nod. "He said you should open it when you started feeling better…."

"Oh!" Andie gasped, excitement gripping her. "Okay…thanks…."

She reached for the package, trembling with anticipation. In her eagerness to open it, she was hardly aware that Mrs. Henderson had left, closing the door behind her.

Andie’s fingers fumbled on the metal clasp, but at last she freed the contents of the envelope from their sheath, the items dropping onto her blanket covered lap.

There were two. A sheet of paper, folded in half, and a long, velvet covered jeweler’s box.

Trembling, Andie picked up the sheet of paper first.

"My Most Beloved, beautiful Andrea," the letter began. Andie wiped away the sudden tears that blurred her vision, and read on.

" Please accept this token of my adoration, My Princess, Queen of my Heart. Even though its beauty pales next to yours, Your Highness, still it represents how exquisitely precious your love has been to me…."

Andie let out a sob, her hands quivering on the page. Her fingers traced the last words with which the letter ended.

"Love Always," she read. "I remain your obedient servant, signed, Michael ( your most humble and adoring )Prince…"

Andie pressed the letter to her bosom and bowed her head, crying uncontrollably. It was several minutes before she had gained enough control of herself to open the black velvet box resting across her knees. When she did, what she saw made her cry harder.

There, lying nestled in its satin liner, lay a necklace, more beautiful than any she had ever seen. From the delicate, silver filigreed chain hung a large diamond, sparkling, gleaming, full of fire…. A diamond shaped just like a tear.

Sobbing blindly, Andie lifted the jewel from its box and slipped it over her head. The silver chain felt like a caress on her skin, the glittering gem rested against her bosom, just above the start of the scar that Michael had healed, first with his kisses, and now with the surgeon’s skill.

Exhausted, spent with crying, but filled with a great peace, the Princess laid her head on the pillow, closed her eyes, and slept, the tears on her cheeks no less beautiful than the diamond that lay on her breast.

She smiled in her sleep, the tears fading, and dreamt of Michael, her Prince.

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