Operations strolled into Madeleine's office to find her lost in thought, plucking fretfully at some dead leaves on her orchids, and frowning woefully. Her demeanor concerned him, but he kept his tone light and casual as he shoved his hands in his pockets, strode forward and said, "You wanted to see me?"

The dark-haired beauty sighed, and turned to look at him. "Yes," she answered, still frowning. "I did."

The Section leader raised one eyebrow, and cleared his throat impatiently. "Well?" he demanded, his alarm at her concern expressing itself in gruffness. "What is it?" he barked out.

Madeleine sighed again. "We still have some unanswered questions about the new H-units," she told him tightly. "We need to know just how far the parameters reach."

The leader's blue eyes widened in surprise. "The treatment you used on Nikita during the mission to bring down Simon?" he asked in shock, cocking his head to the side. "I thought you said the results were completely satisfactory?"

Madeleine nodded, and then rubbed her forehead wearily. "They were," she answered in a tense tone. "We were able to imprint and condition Nikita to transfer her feelings for Michael onto the target we selected…" she crossed her arms across her chest and smiled ruefully. "The unit overshadowed her natural revulsion for Carl, and she was totally, helplessly infatuated with a heinous terrorist…."

Operations grinned in spite of himself, his face lighting up. Controlling people always gave him a rush. "Yes, she was, wasn't she?" he said with a wide smile. "So what's the problem?"

Madeleine leaned one hip on her desk, and looked up at him, her brown eyes liquid with concern. "The H-units have proved to be effective when dealing with external targets, but I believe we would be making a grave mistake if we overlooked investigating how effective they would be in manipulating… internal relationships…"

Operations let out a small grunt of satisfaction as the meaning of her words registered. "You mean, you think we could use them to correct the emotional weaknesses of our operatives?" He commented eagerly. "Reconfigure their affections and attachments to our advantage?" He took in a deep breath, his chest heaving with excitement. This was indeed a thrilling idea.

"We could have used this when we had that problem with Walter and Belinda…" he mused, his voice waxing louder with enthusiasm. "Or with Michael and Simone…" he gushed, smiling wider. "Or Birkoff and Gail…."

Madeleine raised her hand, stopping his flow of eager speculation. "We have to be cautious," she warned him with a shake of her dark curls. "We need to proceed slowly, to check all the possibilities…."

The older man nodded, reigning himself in with difficulty. The idea of using this tool to manage his underlings' problematic emotions was just too enticing. He forced himself to answer in a slow, calm voice.

"You want to stage an experiment then," he asked thoughtfully. "Some kind of test…."

Madeleine smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, exactly…" she responded. "Like I said, as of yet, we don't know just how far the parameters go…"

Operations gave her a piercing look. "You have a subject, or subjects in mind?" he queried, knowing with confidence that his chief strategist was already working on this problem.

Madeleine nodded again. "I've been pondering a few configurations, yes…" she said slowly.

Paul smiled. "Such as?" he asked, raising one eyebrow curiously.

The beauty sighed, and began her explanation. "I believe the test would be most revealing if we chose a pair that are already deeply connected in a particular sort of relationship, and then used the H unit on one of them to change his feelings to another configuration…"

Operations' eyebrow shot up again. "You mean, such as lovers to friends, or friends to enemies, or enemies to lovers, or…" he speculated eagerly.

"Or friends to lovers," Madeleine interrupted him firmly. "That would give us the best idea about the strength of the unit…."

Her counterpart grinned. "So who did you have in mind?" he asked slyly. "Walter and Nikita, perhaps?" he teased.

Madeleine gave him a brief smile. "No, not Nikita again," she replied softly. "We've already tested her, and we know that she responds effectively to the treatment. We need a new subject, one less amenable to suggestion, someone who might prove a …. challenge to control…."

Operations nodded firmly. "Michael," he stated with assurance. "Of course…"

The woman smiled, pleased that they were so perfectly in accord. "Of course," she answered with a satisfied nod. "I'm having the disks prepared now…."

"Good!" Operations said happily, striding back toward the door. At the threshold he stopped, and turned around, regarding her curiously. "By the way," he tossed out a question. "Who did you have in mind for the second party?" he asked eagerly.

Madeleine only smiled.

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

Michael roamed his office restlessly, too agitated to sit down at his desk. He had spent the day reviewing the disks that Madeleine had given him that morning- some rather dry and boring statistical reports- and now he felt too itchy and jumpy to sit still.

He slipped his hand underneath the auburn curls at the back of his collar, and rubbed his neck wearily, his muscles tight and tense. Normally he wasn't this nervous-he was always able to maintain his control, his calm affect in Section. It didn't pay to lose one's cool here, not when every emotion- every twitch, every flicker of expression, every gesture- was scrutinized minutely and used against you. He had learned long ago that it wasn't wise to give anything away; feelings, especially deep ones, must remain hidden.

But it puzzled him what he was feeling now. He paced back and forth, prowling up and down the narrow space like a hungry panther. Was he hungry? he wondered. Or bored? Or irritated? He couldn't really put his finger on it, exactly, but he knew his agitation and jumpiness had no cause that he could readily identify with his conscious mind.

Maybe I'm having a flash of intuition he thought wryly to himself. A bad vibe, or something…

He shook off this thought with a shrug of his shoulders, dismissing this explanation for his restlessness. But the feelings remained. What the hell is wrong with me? He thought. It was a boring, routine day- there were no missions to prep, nothing to be anxious about. Nikita was on a routine and relatively safe surveillance assignment out of town, and things in Section were calm and smooth. What was there to be bothered about?

Maybe I AM just hungry he thought suddenly, realizing that it was three o'clock and all he had had in the way of nourishment so far was three cups of coffee…

Making a decision, Michael turned quickly to shut off his computer and then strode out of his office into the hallway. It felt good to be walking, to have a purpose, a destination, instead of being cooped up in front of his computer, studying disks. The agitated feeling stayed with him, however. He scowled, staring unseeingly ahead, lost in thought, unaware that he was alarming several new operatives that passed his way in the hall and were unlucky enough to intercept his glaring look.

Michael didn't see them. Nothing registered except that he needed SOMETHING and he wasn't quite sure what that something was…

He walked on, absorbed in his own fretful speculations, and when he became aware of his surroundings again, he realized that he had not wandered toward the cafeteria as he had intended, but that he was standing in front of the Medlab doors, near the entrance to his friend Dr. Brian Whicker's office…

Oh, well, why not? Michael thought with a shrug of his broad shoulders. I might as well stop in and see him. Maybe Brian would be free for lunch…

This thought cheered him so much that he felt more relaxed than he had all morning. He felt happy, in fact. Michael was unable to figure out what had cause this lift in his mood, but he dismissed this puzzle, too, and with a smile on his handsome face, he pushed open the MedLab doors, walked down the corridor a few steps, and rapped eagerly at Brian's office door.

"Come in," came the immediate, if weary reply. Michael entered, his heart gladdened to see his friend's familiar form behind the desk. Dr. Whicker was immersed in his usual afternoon grind of paper work, his lab coat rumpled, his blue-black curls tousled wildly from his habit of running his hand through his hair constantly when he was concentrating. Brian looked up from the high stack of patient reports he was working on and smiled at Michael eagerly, his blue eyes alight.

"Hi, there, amigo," Brian greeted Michael warmly. "What brings you out to my neck of the woods?" he asked, his handsome face crinkling into an even bigger smile.

Michael smiled back. Somehow his restlessness seemed eased by being in his friend's presence. "Nothing in particular," he replied in his soft French-accented voice, sinking into the chair opposite the young doctor's desk. He stretched out his long, muscular legs and sighed, letting himself relax deeper into the chair. "Just thought I'd drop by."

Brian cocked his head to one side, instantly alert. He had never known Michael to do anything on the spur of the moment; his green-eyed friend was not one to act on a casual impulse. This sudden impromptu visit was quite out of character for him. The doctor raised one eyebrow speculatively and got right to the point.

"Is everything all right?" he asked warily, his blue eyes darkening with concern. "Are you okay?"

Michael smiled again. "I'm just hungry, and looking for a partner for lunch," he assured him.

"I see…" said Brian with a relieved nod. The young doctor grimaced ruefully, and leaned forward in his chair. He gestured to the huge stack of reports that littered his desk. "I'm afraid I'm chained here for the duration of the afternoon, my friend…" he explained apologetically. "I just don't think I can get away right now…"

Michael's face fell, stung with how deep was the disappointment that engulfed him at this answer. "I …see…" he whispered softly in a hurt tone. "I'll let you alone, then…" He stood quickly, and headed toward the door, unable to stifle the sharp wetness of tears that sprang to his eyes at this… rejection.

What the hell is wrong with me? Michael thought again as he rushed toward the exit. Why are my feelings hurt, and by Brian, of all people?

"Hey, wait!" Brian called him back. "I have an idea…"

Michael turned eagerly to face his friend. "Yes?" he asked hopefully, stunned again at how relieved he felt that Brian was still speaking to him. Some tight, restless place deep inside his chest was eased at hearing the doctor's voice.

Brian pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and held up a crumpled brown paper bag that obviously contained a hastily prepared lunch. Brian grinned and waggled the package enticingly. "Ham and cheese on rye and a packet of Fritos," he explained with a dazzling smile. "Can I tempt you to join me?" he invited warmly.

Michael smiled, and nodded eagerly. "Thank you," he said with a heartfelt sigh of relief, his voice full of genuine elation. "I'd love to."

Brian gave him a puzzled look as the Class five operative sank back into his chair and beamed at him happily. Michael seemed as delighted by this lame offering as if Brian had presented him with a gourmet French meal on a platter, and not a lousy sandwich and some stale chips. What was up with Michael?

The doctor dismissed his uneasy feeling with an effort, and got on with the business of feeding his guest. With a dramatic flourish, Brian carefully took the lunch items out of their crumpled container, and then tore the paper bag in two and spread each half in front of himself and Michael to act as makeshift plates. He divvied up the sandwich, depositing each half on the paper, and then tore open the Fritos and shook out equal portions for both of them.

"Voila!" Brian cried with a grin. "Luncheon "a la Brian" is served!"

Michael beamed at him, the smile lighting his face, igniting the sparkling green eyes. Michael's face was flushed with pleasure, as if he had never been happier, almost, thought Brian, as if he had never received a greater gift than this pathetic sandwich, as if Brian had given him the moon and the stars and the whole earth, besides.

"Thank you," Michael breathed softly, picking up a Frito with shy reverence. "It looks delicious…"

Brian shook his head, and laughed nervously. "You're a sick man, you know that Michael?" he teased. "Maybe you should be examined by a doctor…." He quipped, bringing the sandwich to his lips.

Michael froze, his eyes glowing strangely. He stared at Brian intently for a long moment. "All right, if you want to…" he answered huskily.

Brian blinked, startled, unsure what to make of this odd comment. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, disturbed by the way Michael was staring at him like a….

Like a love-sick calf, Brian realized with a start. What the f*ck was going on? Their affair, if you could call it that, had been over for almost two years. They were friends, close friends, friends who cared about each other, but not in that way….

Not anymore, at any rate, Brian thought. Was he wrong?

Brian took an anxious bite of his sandwich. "How's Nikita?" he asked abruptly, changing the subject.

Michael gave him a blank look, as if he didn't know who Nikita was. "Uh, fine, I guess," he answered after a moment of silence. "She's away on a mission…"

Brian nodded understandingly. "Ahh, I see…" he said sagely. "You miss her, don't you?" his friend offered in tone of tender sympathy.

Michael paused, stunned. He realized he hadn't given one thought to Nikita all day. She had barely registered on the fringes of his mind. She seemed incredibly unimportant just at the moment. His relationship to her didn't matter. Nothing mattered, actually, except being with Brian….

"Yes, I do," Michael answered, choking out a lie. "Very much…"

Brian smiled warmly at him again, relaxing at this answer. "I know you do," the young doctor told him tenderly. "And I miss Ann…"

Michael stiffened, stricken at these words, innocent words that somehow wounded him deeply. A dark powerful surge of acid jealousy coiled in his belly, burning him, eating away at his insides….

"Where is she?" Michael forced out, feigning polite interest. He was surprised by the sudden, overpowering hatred that he felt for this female operative, the resentment that tore at him at the mention of Brian's current lover…

"In Monaco," Brian answered with a sigh. "The mission is supposed to last three months…" He took another absent-minded bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "She just left yesterday, but I miss her already…"

"Yeah…" said Michael morosely, struggling with his new, conflicted emotions. He was at once pleased to know that his competition would be out of the way for a while, and at the same time it depressed him to hear the affectionate tone in Brian's voice when he spoke Ann's name..

Competition? Michael thought with a start. Why am I thinking of Ann as competition?

Brian jolted Michael out of his brooding reverie by standing up from his desk and coming toward him. Michael's heart pounded with excitement. Did Brian want him? Did he want to be near him, to touch him? Was he going to kiss him?

"What are you doing?" Michael gasped, breathless with excitement. He felt the strong, swift stirring in his groin as Brian drew near.

The younger man gave his friend a puzzled look. "I'm going to the fridge to get us a Diet Coke," he answered, pointing to the small ice box in the corner of the room behind Michael. "Fritos make me thirsty…"

Michael blushed, uncomfortable at the rush of erotic thoughts that the image of Brian drinking conjured up within him. Michael pictured Brian's soft lips on the can, his mouth open and receptive, the muscles in his strong throat working as he swallowed the elixir eagerly….

Michael shook his head to clear the images, but he had no success. The images remained, as did the swelling in his manhood…

He crossed his legs uncomfortably and shifted in his chair, placing his hand in his lap to hide his burgeoning excitement. "A drink sounds good…" he agreed hoarsely, struggling to remain coherent.

He almost passed out from a passionate overload of his senses when the next moment Brian brushed past him and placed his hand briefly on Michael's shoulder on his way to the other end of the room, in a gesture of casual affection. Michael had never felt a more erotic caress, this simple, beautiful touch. He shuddered and groaned, almost climaxing right there.

Brian paused, his hand lingering on his friend's shoulder. "Michael, are you all right?" the doctor demanded in sudden alarm, kneeling beside Michael's chair to look into his face. "What's wrong?"

It took all of Michael's control not to come right then when Brian stroked his hair in concern. "Nothing.." he choked out, trembling. "I just need a little bit of …. rest…." He stammered roughly.

To Michael's great relief, Brian nodded, stood up, and moved his hand away, but the young doctor continued to stare at him thoughtfully. "Maybe I should check you out anyway," he said tersely, his voice edged with concern. "Just to make sure, okay?"

Michael forced a smile. "Okay…" he agreed, trying to stifle the eagerness in his voice. He felt dizzy, just thinking about the idea of Brian touching him again….

Brian smiled. "Good," he responded, pleased. "I'll fit you in tomorrow…." He pounded his friend on the back, and continued past him to retrieve the drinks from the fridge.

Michael almost swooned at his touch, but he managed to hold on to his fleeting control by making a supreme effort of will. He was in a frenzy of excitement, anticipating that wonderful moment when he would see Brian again…..

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

As it turned out, Michael did not see Brian the next day, or the next, or the day after that. He had spent a restless night haunted by erotic dreams of the young doctor lying wantonly, submissively beneath him in his bed, fulfilling his every desire, and Michael woke up exhausted and bereft, knowing in his heart that there was no way he could casually submit to a physical examination by Brian without revealing to his friend the true depth and nature of his feelings. His body would betray him, he knew that with certainty.

Some things must remain hidden. And this was one of those things. With a sense of overwhelming sorrow, and determination, as well as a deep shame, Michael went out of his way to avoid Medlab at all costs. In what he thought was a cowardly, but cautious solution, Michael asked Madeleine for a few days off, and then he left a message for Brian that he had been called away on a mission, and would be unable to keep his appointment with the handsome physician for that afternoon's scheduled examination.

Michael spent the downtime alone, in his apartment. He hoped that by giving himself some time to concentrate on the problem, that he would be able to conquer this new obsession, to get control of his feelings. He hated not being able to reign in his desires, something he had always been a master of in the past.

Michael secretly prided himself on how much control he did have over his emotions, his libido, his body, his sexuality. He had been trained, after all, thoroughly and painstakingly, in just such mastery. It was part of his skills as an operative to be able to turn these feelings on and off at will, to shift from red-hot to ice cold and back again as the situation demanded. He had done this so often enough on mission after mission, with Elena, with Andrea, with Lisa and other targets he was ordered to seduce. He had even used these talents of control with Simone and Nikita, the women he had truly loved and cared for.

Until now, his performance had always been flawless, his control effortless to maintain. If his soul was scarred and protesting afterwards, his body, at least, had always been obedient and docile throughout the performances, his to command. But now, inexplicably, that control was gone, evaporated as if it had never been. Michael could barely think about Brian without becoming instantly aroused, even by the slightest of sensual stimulation. Michael had only to remember Brian's bright smile, his laughing blue eyes, the sweet way his hair curled on his forehead, to be brought to a fever pitch of erotic longing. Picturing the genuinely intimate moments they had had together made him lose control completely.

Michael tried to rest, but it was hopeless. He was tormented by erotic dreams, and each time he laid down on his bed to sleep, the lustful images began. If he did manage to escape into unconsciousness for a few brief moments, his body continued the inexorable fantasies without him. Again and again, Michael would wake up with a start in the bed, jerking upright, trembling and covered with sweat. And his own semen. One after the other, he would have deeply sexual dreams, each one different, but each one the same. It was always the same partner, the same passionate lover who aroused him, thrilled him, and brought him to shattering release .. Always, always, it was … Brian.

On the third day of not seeing Brian, Michael had reached his breaking point. Once again he had climaxed involuntarily in his sleep, the dreams reaching a feverishly erotic crescendo. He awoke in the dark, feeling again the hot stickiness of his release on his thighs.

He groaned, and pushed back the tangled covers, and staggered into the bathroom. Once there, he leaned against the sink and ran cold water over wrists, and then moistened a washcloth and methodically cleaned himself up. He carefully avoided raising his eyes to the mirror-the last thing he wanted to do right then was to confront his own haunted reflection.

He tossed the used rag into the hamper with a shaky sigh, and then staggered wearily back to the bed. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed and buried his face in hands, the erotic images of the dream still clinging to the edges of his mind.

What the hell was wrong with him? Michael asked himself. He had never felt this way before. Not like this, consumed totally by this thirst, this unrelenting longing. He had never had such strong feelings before-not for his wife Simone, not even for Nikita. He had never been so …needy, so desperate. So hungry for another human's touch, another human's presence. He wanted Brian. Like an addict craves a fix.

Unable to stop himself, Michael fell back on the bed with a soft whimper, closed his eyes, and let himself think again of Brian. Of how beautiful he was, how sweet, how… desirable. He LOVED Brian. Brian was the only one who had ever really understood him. Brian was the only one he wanted to be with…

Michael groaned and curled up into a fetal position, knees to his chest, head buried in the pillow. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but still he could see that beloved face, those laughing blue eyes, that sweetly curved mouth..

It was impossible to stop thinking about him. He had tried, but day and night, Brian's image haunted him. Even in his dreams. There was no escape from the surging need, the unrequited thirst. There was no cure for what he had, Michael thought miserably, hugging himself and patiently rocking himself to sleep. He was in love with Brian. Perhaps the strength of his feelings meant he had never really been in love before. What could he do? What was there to do, when his Beloved loved another? His heart wrenched, realizing that Brian desired some one else, not him…. The crushing sorrow of this truth was overwhelming…

Michael let out a harsh sob, and sat up in bed. He switched on the bedside lamp and stared hard at the phone on the nightstand. He had resisted as long as he could, but there was nothing else to do now. He had to call Brian, to see him. His misery had reached its limit. He couldn't go on anymore.

He snatched the phone out of its cradle, giving in to his body's screaming need. With trembling hands, he dialed the number.

"Hello…?" answered a sleep-roughened voice on the other end of the line.

Michael sobbed again in desperation. "Brian…" he pleaded hoarsely, tears wetting his cheeks. "Brian, please…" he wept in torment, shoulders shaking. "I need you…."

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

Brian sat up in bed, his mind instantly alert. Something in the tone of Michael's voice frightened him, setting off a jangle of alarm bells up and down his spine. He clutched the phone receiver tighter, and tried to keep his voice calm.

"Michael, what's going on?" Brian demanded. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Michael answered with an incoherent sob. "Yes…. No… I don't know…" After this muffled reply, Brian heard the phone drop and then there were no more words, nothing to be heard but Michael's broken, desperate weeping….

Then silence.

"Jesus…." Brian prayed, tossing the phone aside and leaping from the bed. "Michael, I'm coming, Buddy. I'm coming…."

Since he had fallen asleep in his clothes, the young doctor wasted no time in dressing. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his car keys, and was out the door in less than a minute. He sped all the way, grateful for the lateness of the hour and the lack of traffic to hinder him from his quest. Brian, always a careful and courteous driver, had no thought of others right then. Only Michael. He was sure he would have run over any other vehicle that might have gotten in his way.

His panic and impatience increased with every mile, his mind whirling with speculation and theories about what could be wrong with his enigmatic friend. Michael was reserved, stoic, a man who kept his needs and problems to himself. For him to cry out for help like he did must mean that Michael was in extremis, at the edge. Brian knew instinctively that Michael's pain was of an emotional nature, not a physical one. Brian kicked himself for not having seen it coming, for not insisting that he check Michael out sooner. He should have demanded to examine Michael that afternoon a few days ago, when the older man had wandered into his office, obviously wanting to talk to him about something, but not being able to get the words out.

"Damn it," Brian swore under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles showed white. He knew the signs. He knew the pressures Michael was under, the traumas that Section had put Michael through. He should have seen his friend unraveling, should have seen the fissures forming in the bedrock of Michael's psyche, should have stepped in before those fissures widened and his friend's soul cracked open completely.

But he hadn't. He hadn't seen it coming. And now he could do nothing to prevent the disaster he sensed was imminent… He only prayed he wasn't too late…

At last he spotted the turn-off for Michael's apartment building, and, tires squealing, he pulled up into the parking area and roughly slammed on his brakes. In an instant he had thrown the car door open and was racing inside. It took an eternity for the elevator to arrive, and another eternity for Brian to reach Michael's floor. Brian twitched nervously, frantic at the delay. He knew in his heart that right now, every second counted.

At last, the elevator delivered him to the right floor, and Brian rushed out into the hall, not bothering to knock at the door of Michael's loft, but flinging it open….

"Michael?" Brian called out, staggering inside the darkened room and blinking in the darkness. "Michael!" Brian shouted, his voice rising in panic. "Michael! Where are you?"

He stepped forward, led blindly by the soft whimper he heard from ahead of him further into the apartment. Brian could just make out the gleam of white skin in the darkness, and he realized that Michael was lying curled up, nude, on his bed.

"Michael..?" Brian whispered, stepping cautiously closer. "Are you all right?"

There was no answer, just the rustle of sheets as Michael shifted on the bed. Brian took one more step, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and then he saw it. The gun.

Michael had his gun in his mouth, his hand trembling on the trigger…

For a split second, Brian froze, his heart clenching with despair. But there was no time to ponder the situation, no time to puzzle out the whys and the whens and the reasons. He knew there was no time to talk Michael out of it. He had to act-act NOW.

With a harsh cry, Brian leapt into action. In an instant, he was on the bed, wrestling the gun away.

"No! Damn it, no!" He yelled, grasping hold of the metal barrel and pulling it from Michael's lips. Michael, in a suicidal trance, groaned again and stirred, feebly trying to fight him for the weapon. Brian wrenched the gun from his friend's grip and tossed it aside on the bedside table, then straddled the operative on the bed, holding him still, pinning him down by his shoulders. Panicked and frightened, adrenaline pumping, Brian used more force that he ordinarily would have. The grip on Michael's arms drew bruises, but he didn't care. Brian was determined to keep Michael safe, to keep him from hurting himself.

His fear generating anger, Brian couldn't help himself. He lost it, and began to scream at his friend. "Jesus CHRIST, man!" he gasped out hoarsely, trembling with emotion. "What the F*CK do you think you're doing?" He was so angry, it took all his control not to shake Michael, to strike him. Michael had scared him, scared him good, and he could barely control his rage, shuddering with reaction.

Beneath him, Michael writhed, and let out a harsh, anguished moan. "Don't…" he pleaded weakly, sobbing quietly. "Brian, please…" he begged, struggling to sit up. "Please don't…."

Brian took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, although he still trembled with anger. "Don't WHAT, you Idiot?" he demanded loudly, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't try to stop you from killing yourself, is that what you mean?" his captor yelled.

To his surprise, Michael stopped struggling beneath him, and turned his face into the pillow, letting out a soft, heart-wrenching moan of pain. "No…." he groaned, anguished, quietly sobbing again. "Please…" he begged once more, weeping uncontrollably. "Don't ….. hate me…." He choked out. " Brian, please…."

Brian's anger immediately dissolved into pity. He let out a soft sigh, his rage gone, and released his death-grip on his friend's shoulders. Michael whimpered at this loss of contact, and Brian instinctively lowered himself to the bed beside Michael and gathered his friend in his arms, rocking him gently.

"Shh…" he soothed his distraught comrade, pulling Michael's head down on his shoulder. "I'll never hate you, Michael, you know that…" Brian held him, patting his back soothingly, and murmuring soft words of comfort. "Shh… easy now…." He whispered.

Cradled in Brian's arms, Michael sighed raggedly and snuggled closer, clutching his beloved in a desperate embrace. Hot tears fell on Brian's neck. "I thought I'd lost you…." Michael moaned, and then, to Brian's shock, Michael turned his head and nuzzled him like a blindly searching young kitten looking for it's mother's breast; the next instant his trembling lips found what they were seeking, and Michael's warm mouth came down to cover Brian's in a deep kiss…

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

Brian froze in shock, and let out a soft gasp. He was so startled by this unexpected, if gently fervent, assault on his lips that he could only lie there, barely breathing, and submit to Michael's desperately deepening kiss. There was no mistaking this kiss for a soft peck of affection, or a friendly or teasing buss on the mouth, or even a needy seeking for emotional reassurance. The force of Michael's mouth on his, the pressure of hard lips and firmly thrusting tongue left no doubt that this kiss was not a kiss of a friend, but rather the caress of an ardent and impassioned lover.

Brian's mind whirled, stunned beyond measure. Making love to Brian was the last thing he had imagined Michael wanting to do--- during the past two years the two men had hugged each other for assurance, had touched, had exchanged kisses, even, but all of those moments of caring had been purely affectionate, not sexual. Ever since their heartfelt talk after a misunderstanding on the mission to save Michael's look-alike, Paul Gilbert, when Michael had come on to Brian out of a sense of duty, the two friends had cleared the air and established that their relationship was based on true affection and a caring sense of brotherhood.

There was no one Brian trusted more, no relationship he felt more sure of, than this strong, fraternal connection to Michael. Brian loved him deeply, as a brother and as a friend, and he knew that Michael felt the same way about him. Now the young doctor's world was turned upside down, his heart and his senses reeling at this totally unexpected and totally improbable response from Michael. What the HELL was going on, anyway?

Brian gave a little grunt of shock, and tried to squirm away, out of Michael's clutching embrace. Michael in desperation only tightened his grip, and Brian found himself pushed onto his back, his friend's naked body firmly pressed on top of him. Michael began showering soft, frantic kisses on the startled young doctor's face, all the while whispering soft, if panicked, endearments.

Michael's next breathless words shocked Brian even more than his hot kisses had done.

"God, Brian, I need you…" Michael whispered hoarsely, nuzzling Brian's neck and stroking his wildly tousled black curls. "I've never needed anyone so much as I need you…."

"Michael!" Brian protested, lifting his head up and trying to sit up.

Michael pushed him down again, his strong hands pinning Brian's shoulders. He began to nuzzle Brian's neck again, and the young doctor flinched in shock when he felt the unmistakable pressure of his friend's burgeoning erection against his thigh.

"I have to have you…." Michael groaned desperately, his voice rough with longing. "Please, Brian, I love you. Only you…." The soft lips nipped at his once more; Brian felt Michael's hot, ragged intake of breath as he begged for Brian's love. "There's never been anyone I've ever cared about as much as I care about you..."

Brian closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath at this totally out of character statement. This was not the Michael he knew, the man whose soul had been torn asunder when Nikita was missing, the man who had nearly died from sorrow when he had lost his wife Simone, the man who had lost himself in grief when he had been separated so cruelly from his young son. Brian knew Michael's heart, knew how deeply he loved, knew how much he had suffered during all these wrenching losses, how many times he had risked himself in an effort to protect the ones he loved, and how many times he had nearly destroyed himself mourning the loves he had lost.

Brian felt privileged to be among the ranks of those whom Michael fought to protect, but he knew in his heart that it was not he, but Nikita, who was the one Michael adored beyond all reason. For him to say no other love but Brian meant as much to him was a blatant lie, a distortion of the truth that rang totally false, jarring him with its wrongness.

And yet, God help him, Brian couldn't deny that right at that moment, Michael SEEMED to believe that what he was saying was true. There was no deceit or subterfuge in this whole incredibly unexpected display of ardor on Michael's part- Brian had seen Michael feign desire for him before, had been there when Michael had come-on to him for the sake of a mission, or as part of a plan to protect him. But Brian knew instinctively that what was going on now was not due to artifice or calculation. Michael truly, genuinely, was carried away with passion, not thinking at all. One look in those passion-haunted, heavy-lidded green eyes and Brian knew that Michael was beyond thinking at all, but was driven by pure, raging emotion….

And since when was that Michael's style, Brian thought with a jolt? Since when did Michael lose control like this… ever? What was going on with him, anyway?

The next moment Michael interrupted Brian's wildly jumbled thoughts by slipping his hands from Brian's shoulders and moving them sensuously lower, caressing the doctor's broad chest and flat stomach, and then going lower still to slide inside the loose green scrub pants that Brian wore…

Michael groaned and captured Brian's mouth in a deep kiss once more. Brian knew he had to do something, and do it quick, before things went way too far. He knew that he was no match for the Class Five operative's strength and skill- if Michael wanted to keep him pinned under him in the bed, there was nothing Brian could do to stop him. Michael was over the edge as it was, and so far struggling hadn't worked.

But trickery might. It was Brian's only chance to get free.

With a harsh sigh, Brian began whispering seductively back. "Michael, I want you, too.." he groaned in his friend's ear, nipping lightly at Michael's strong, stubble-roughened jaw. "I've always wanted you…"

Above him, Michael let out a sharp sob of joy, and nestled closer, kissing Brian deeply again and tightening his arms around his friend with a fervency that overshadowed anything that had come before. Now Michael's full weight was pressing Brian into the bed, the hard muscled body stretched firmly out over his, capturing him completely.

Shit, thought Brian, trying not to panic. He took in a ragged breath and pitched his voice in a seductive tone once more.

"Please, Michael," the young doctor begged, managing to get his hands free enough to gently stroke the sides of Michael's broad back, "Let me love you…"

Michael paused in his love-making, and then whimpered breathlessly, shuddering with delight. "Mon Dieu, mon Dieu… Oui… je te veux…." He moaned harshly in Brian's ear. Michael squirmed closer, the thick shaft of his manhood stabbing Brian painfully.

JESUS Brian cursed to himself. This is getting me no where…

"Michael…" he begged again, fighting panic. "I want to touch you… I want to…. taste you…." Brian groaned, having no need to feign the urgent desperation in his voice. His hands found Michael's lean hips, and he caressed the firm flesh there, gripping the sides of the shapely buttocks and shifting his friend's aroused body away from him.

Michael stiffened and trembled at his touch. He lowered his head, and Brian felt the caress of soft auburn curls brush across his neck.

"Lie back…." Brian ordered, lifting his head up to graze his mouth gently across Michael's cheek. Then he uttered the seductive offer that he hoped would gain him his freedom. "Let me suck your beautiful c*ck…" he begged, licking his tongue slowly across the underside of his would-be lover's strong jaw. "Please…" he whispered softly.

Michael shuddered again, his eyes glazing over. He groaned Brian's name once more, and then his grip on Brian loosened, and to the doctor's great relief, he did what Brian had hoped he would do- Michael shifted to lie down on his back on the bed, pulling Brian over to lie on top of him. It was now the older man who lay underneath, gazing adoringly up into his lover's eyes, his chest heaving with eagerness.

Brian let out a sigh of relief and triumph. At last, he had Michael just where he wanted him.

"Close you eyes," he directed softly, sitting up straight to straddle his friend on the bed. Michael sighed and obeyed, the long lashes fluttering down over the passion-clouded green eyes. Brian felt the other man relax trustingly beneath him, looking suddenly very young, and very vulnerable as he lay back, full lips parted, auburn curls sweetly spread across the pillow.

Brian hastily pulled his green cotton tunic over his head and then wrung it in hands to make it form a makeshift rope. He leaned forward from the waist and pressed his lips fully against Michael's in a warm kiss. At the same time he was performing this distracting procedure, Brian groped for Michael's wrists and found them, urging them upwards over his head.

Michael, eyes still closed, was too enthralled with the feel of Brian's mouth plundering his to realize he had been tricked until it was too late. Swiftly, Brian had tied Michael's hands together above him to the slats in the head-board, rendering him helpless.

As the last knot was tightened, the Michael's eyes flew open. Brian's heart broke at the hurt and desperation he saw in those clear jade depths. "What are you doing?" Michael asked in a bewildered tone, his lower lip trembling. The green eyes clouded with tears and the soft French voice broke on a sob.

"What kind of a game are you playing with me?" Michael begged in an anguished tone that revealed his obvious hurt and betrayal. "Don't you love me after all?" he pleaded, crying, his heart broken.

Brian let out a shaky sigh, and then caressed his hand down Michael's tear-stained cheek. "I DO love you, man, you know that…" he said tenderly. "But I'm not the one playing games with you…." The doctor scowled furiously, his mouth tightening in a grim line as the true reason for Michael's weird behavior suddenly hit him full force.

"It's HER!" Brian gasped out, realization dawning. "She has to be the one who's been f*cking with you all this time!"

Michael blinked, and shook his head, confused. "Who do you mean?" he asked gruffly. "Who's been f*cking with me?"

Before the words were out of his mouth, Michael realized the truth. His expression hardened, and the confusion left his soft green eyes. He answered his own question with one harshly uttered word, at the same time Brian answered the question as well.

"Madeleine…." Michael spat out in disgust.

"That sick BITCH, who else?" growled Brian.

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

Michael stared into Brian's face, realization dawning, a sharp look of utter despair in his green eyes. Then he turned his head away on the pillow, unable to face his friend any longer. "I'm sorry…" he gasped out, his bare shoulders slumping in defeat. He bit back a sob, feeling embarrassed and bewildered.

Brian closed his eyes and sighed. "It's not your fault, man…" he soothed him softly. With another sigh, he leaned forward and released the bonds from Michael's wrists and then swung his leg over his friend and got off the bed. Michael sat up slowly, tears of shame and distress still in his eyes. "What are we going to do?" he asked hoarsely.

Brian gave him a swift, encouraging smile. "You're going to go get dressed, and I'll make us some coffee," he told Michael gently. "Then we'll figure this all out, okay?"

For a brief moment, Michael smiled back, a flash of sunshine that shone for a second and then was gone. "Okay," he answered obediently, looking at Brian with complete trust in his eyes, his expression shyly adoring. Whatever hocus-pocus love spell Madeleine had cast on him, Brian realized, it was still in effect.

"Go on," he urged Michael, pointing to the bathroom. The older man nodded eagerly, and slid off the bed, walking toward the shower with all the grace of a jungle cat. He was glorious in his nudity, beautiful and shapely, the hard muscles rippling under smooth skin as he walked. Brian watched him grimly, realizing how tempting it would be for him to succumb to his desire for such a man, how easy it would have been for him to take advantage of Michael's newly rampant need for him. If he were a weaker man, he realized, he might have done just that….

Brian bit back a gasp of shock, and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Christ, he thought. Was that what this was all about? He wondered. Was this bizarre emotional manipulation done to test Michael, or were they testing Brian as well? What the hell did that bitch want with them?

The bathroom door closed behind Michael and after a moment Brian heard the shower running. The young doctor roused from his dark thoughts and hastily pulled on his wrinkled scrub tunic over his bare chest. No point in offering Michael any added temptation, he mused grimly. He wandered into the kitchen area and began to make the coffee, still scowling and thinking furiously.

Ten minutes later, Michael emerged from the bathroom, his damp hair curling around his face; he was wearing a long blue robe belted closed at the waist, along with the same eager expression. He accepted the mug of coffee that Brian offered him shyly, and even blushed when their fingers touched accidentally.

Jesus, thought Brian, angrily. He realized with a jolt how much he missed the old Michael, calm and controlled, if sometimes distant. And how much he resented Madeleine for tampering with his friend's feelings.

"Sit down," he ordered in a soft growl, the words coming out rougher than he had planned.

Michael flinched, giving him a hurt and startled look, but he took a seat obediently at the small kitchen table, cradling his coffee cup in his shapely fingers.

Brian took a large gulp of his own coffee for courage, and then sat down across the table from his friend.

"How long have you felt this way about me?" Brian began gruffly. "When did this all start?"

Michael blinked at him, his eyes wide and innocent. "I've always cared for you, Brian, very much…." He said huskily, nervously staring down at his coffee cup. He bit his full lower lip to keep it from trembling. "I've loved you right from the beginning," Michael vowed solemnly, "you know that…."

Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his hair. "I know you do, Michael," the doctor began patiently, keeping his voice gentle. "But the attraction, at least the sexual component of it, was all on my side before, remember?" Brian said softly, embarrassed to bring up his past crush on Michael but determined to get to the bottom of things. "Now you feel differently, and I want to know when that started, okay?"

"Okay…" Michael answered uncertainly. He shook his head, the damp curls falling forward to frame his face. Brian thought he looked like some Midieval angel right then, with his fair skin and the soft waves of hair glowing copper and gold in the light. The green eyes glowed with an ethereally haunted expression.

"I think it was about a week ago that my feelings for you began to change…" Michael began thoughtfully. "I usually think a lot about Nikita, but I found myself not caring as much…" he confessed wanly, still staring down into his drink. "I began to realize that it was you that I wanted to be with, not her, but then…"

Michael stopped abruptly, choking back tears.

Brian leaned forward and stretched his hand across the table-top to take Michael's fingers in his, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Then what, Michael?" he prompted gently. "Tell me…."

Michael clung to his fingers as if they were a life-line, and lifted his gaze to stare adoringly into Brian's blue eyes. "Then… I tried not to see you, I tried to leave you alone, because I knew you were involved with someone else…"

Brian nodded, his expression solemn. "Ann…" he said softly.

Michael looked as if he were about to burst into tears again. "It tore me up inside that I couldn't be with you…." He whispered roughly. "I … needed you so much…."

"I see…." Brian said soothingly, keeping his voice calm for Michael but inwardly seething with anger at Madeleine for putting Michael through so much torment. "But then you came to see me in my office, isn't that right?"

Michael nodded gratefully. "I didn't want to bother you, but I couldn't resist coming by, just to see you, just to hear your voice…." He told him in a tone of choked distress.

Brian patted Michael's hand. "I understand…" he said gently. Indeed, he did. Brian knew the feeling, knew well the torture of unrequited love….

"I felt so… awkward-- I didn't know what to say…" Michael went on haltingly. "And then, the longer I was with you, the more I wanted you, until I couldn't stand it, and I left…." He stammered to a close, blushing bright red and lowering his eyes. He took his hand from Brian's and then wrapped both of his arms around himself as if for comfort.

"When you touched my shoulder," Michael confessed breathlessly, "It … aroused me….."

Brian flinched, appalled. Not at Michael's reaction, but at the very idea that Madeleine had reduced Michael to such a level, where he was no longer in control of his own responses, his own heart. The self-assured, cool, supremely confident man that Michael was, had been shaken and dismantled, turned into a shy, needy, easily crushed personality whose very sense of self- and self-worth- revolved around another; Michael's strength of will no longer came from the depths within, but had had been focused elsewhere- outside himself, redirected onto Brian instead…

"That cruel, f*ckin' BITCH!" Brian thought to himself, enraged. He resisted the urge to cuss outloud and with an effort managed to keep his voice level and to go on with his questions.

"What did you do after you left my office?" he asked gently.

Michael let out a shaky sigh. "I took a few days off, and came here…." He explained, gesturing around the apartment. "I thought if I just had some time alone, I could work things out in my mind, but it didn't help…." The green eyes flickered downward; embarrassed and ashamed, Michael could no longer meet Brian's eyes. "All I could do was think of you, and dream of you, and…." He choked to a halt once more.

"And what, Michael?" Brian prompted him gently. "What did you do?"

Michael's fair, perfect skin flushed pink. "I fantasized about being with you," he blurted out in a breathless rush. "I… I touched myself…."

Brian thought Michael was about to cry again. "It's okay…" he soothed gently, his face grim. "Is that why you wanted to kill yourself?" the doctor demanded gruffly. "Because you were… ashamed…?"

Michael's head came up abruptly, his eyes wide. "No!" he protested tensely. "I wasn't ashamed of loving you, of… feeling turned on by you…." He shook his head firmly. "That wasn't it…."

Brian leaned forward. "Then why did you do it, Michael?" he demanded again, his eyes glittering and haunted. "Why did I find you here with a gun in your mouth?" he asked tightly, anguished at the memory.

Michael froze for a moment, and then crumpled into tears. He buried his head in his hands, sobbing, his shoulders shaking with his wracking grief. "I knew I could never be with you…" he wailed. "Because you loved Ann…." He let out an anguished moan, his voice breaking roughly. "It was hopeless…" Michael sobbed. "I couldn't have you, and that meant there was nothing worth living for…."

"Jesus!" Brian moaned, his soul wrenching with pity inside him. Instantly he was out of his chair and on his knees in front of Michael, reaching out to his friend to comfort him. Brian gathered the weeping operative in his arms and held him tight, rocking him gently.

"Shhh…" he soothed, patting Michael's still damp hair. "You're safe now…."

Michael cried for a long time on Brian's shoulder, his tears wetting the doctor's green cotton shirt. Desperately, Michael twined his fingers in Brian's tunic and clutched his shoulders hard, unwilling to let go. "Don't leave me.." he begged huskily. "Please, Brian, don't leave me again…"

Fear tinged Michael's cries, and fear possessed Brian as well. It wasn't over, he realized. Michael was still in danger of hurting himself, if he believed Brian's love was to be withdrawn from him. The love spell was still in full effect; even the knowledge that the way he was feeling had all been manipulated by Madeleine seemed to make no difference to the depth of Michael's desire- He still wanted Brian, was still utterly emotionally dependant on him, for his very existence, his very life.

Brian knew, with a sting of shock, that Michael's life rested entirely in his hands. And he hated it. He hated the impossible responsibility, hated that Madeleine had created this burden in the first place. No one should have such power over another human being like that- no, not like that…..

Power, Brian thought, still holding and rocking Michael. That's what Madeleine wanted, what she craved. Just the kind of power over people that Brian held over Michael right now. Michael was completely, utterly under Brian's control. One harsh word, one stern look, one hint of rejection from Brian, and Michael would be devastated; he would be trying to swallow a bullet again….

He had to do something, Brian thought. He had to fix this….

He held Michael closer, and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Easy, my Friend, easy…" he crooned, rocking the weeping operative in his arms, meaning every word. "I'll fix this somehow, I promise…."

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

Brian held Michael, rocking him, his mind working furiously. He had just vowed to fix everything, to make things all right again- he just wished to God he knew HOW. He needed more information, he realized. He needed to know just WHAT Madeleine had done to him, HOW she had done this to Michael, and most of all, he needed to know WHY…

What the f*ck was that bitch up to? Brian wondered, comforting the sobbing wreck that used to be Michael. If Madeleine had been out to destroy him, she had done a good job of it, that was certain. Brian had never seen Michael so out of control, so broken, so far over the edge…. Michael was practically disintegrating right before his eyes…

After a few more minutes during which Brian patted and held him, Michael slowly began to calm down, relaxing under his friend's gentle caresses and soothing murmured reassurances. He was where he wanted to be, in Brian's arms, being cherished and held by the only person he would ever love. At last he was soothed enough to lift his head up from Brian's shoulder and turn his tear-stained face up to his.

"Thank you…" Michael breathed gratefully, his heart shining in his eyes. "I'd be lost without you, you know that?" he said in breathless adoration.

Brian resisted the urge to swear out-loud. Shit, he thought to himself. This is way worse than I thought… He forced a smile and with one more pat on Michael's shoulder, Brian released him and went back to his own chair at the kitchen table. Bereft, panicked, Michael reached for him, and Brian caught and clasped Michael's out-stretched hand and held it, knowing what the contact meant to his friend who was drowning in a sea of emotion, believing that Brian was his only life-line.

"I'll get you through this," Brian promised again firmly, squeezing Michael's trembling hand between both his own. "But I need your help…"

Michael gasped in a sharp breath, and stared at his friend, bewildered. "My… help?" he asked, surprised. "What can I do?"

Brian leaned forward, still holding Michael's hand in a warm, reassuring grip. "Madeleine got to you somehow, Michael..." the young doctor explained tensely. "She drugged you, or conditioned you, or brainwashed you…" he elaborated grimly. "She's been manipulating your emotions…."

Michael only stared back, wide-eyed, saying nothing. Brian was becoming alarmed at his blank, besotted look, wondering if whatever drug or treatment Madeleine had given Michael had affected his mind as well as his emotions….

"Well?" he demanded, alarmed. "Do you remember Madeleine doing anything like that to you?"

Michael blinked, and then closed his eyes, concentrating hard. After a moment of tense silence, he opened his eyes, and slowly shook his head. "The only time I saw Madeleine was in her office for a few minutes early last week…" he replied carefully, frowning from the effort of remembering. It was obvious he was trying hard to please Brian with his answer. "That's the only time I was with her, I swear it…"he declared, looking alarmed. "I'm sorry…" he apologized fearfully, tensing for Brian's reaction.

Brian soothed him again. "That's good, Michael, that's excellent…" he crooned, patting Michael's hand as if he were a small child.

Michael smiled broadly as if Brian had just given him a million dollars. He let out a happy sigh, pleased and relaxed. "It is?" he asked eagerly. "It's okay?"

Brian nodded, his heart breaking. It tore him up to see Michael so fearful, so needy, so pathetically dependant this way. He was determined to get back at the bitch for doing this to his friend, if it was the last thing he ever did…

"Yeah, it is," he assured Michael, forcing another smile. "Because now we have a place to start…"

Michael nodded eagerly, still gazing at Brian with the same adoring puppy-dog expression. He waited breathlessly for his hero to go on.

"What did Madeleine want with you at this meeting last week?" Brian asked carefully. "Why did she call you in?"

Michael stared at him, wide-eyed, with an expression as innocent and trusting as a child's. "Nothing, really," he replied, looking bewildered. "The meeting didn't last long, like I told you…" He shook his head, one auburn strand shifting forward to curl charmingly against his cheek. "She gave me some disks to study, that's all," he answered softly.

Brian sat up straighter, instantly alert. "Disks?" he demanded sharply. "What kind of disks?"

Michael's eyes grew wider, and he shrank back, as if frightened by Brian's raised voice. "J-Just some statistical reports about past m-missions…" Michael stammered awkwardly. "It took me all morning to read them all…"

The young doctor's eyebrow shot up. This had to be it. Madeleine must have placed some subliminal programming on the disks, knowing that Michael would be studying them for hours, absorbing the underlying conditioning…

Brian's stomach heaved; he thought he was going to be sick.

"That's great, Michael!" he gushed enthusiastically, patting Michael's hand again. "Just tell me, how did you feel after that?" he probed gently. "What did you do after studying the disks?"

Michael blushed, delighted that he had pleased his Beloved, and he squirmed with pleasure in his chair. If he had been a dog with a tail, he would have been wagging it. "I started thinking of you then," Michael told him eagerly. "About how beautiful you are, and how much I wanted to see you…" the operative confessed, blushing again, lowering his eyes. "And then I came to your office…." He finished breathlessly.

Brian tasted bile, and he closed his eyes, disgusted beyond measure at the indignity of what Madeleine had put Michael through. With an effort, he forced another smile, and praised Michael like the child that he was.

"Good boy!" he assured him heartily. "That's just what I needed to know…"

Michael beamed happily, practically bouncing in his chair. "It is?" he asked eagerly, his eyes alight with happiness.

Brian nodded, and stood up. "Yeah, it's perfect!" the doctor assured him, his stomach wrenching at what would come next. "Michael…" he said gently, "I'm going to go now and talk to Madeleine, and get this all straightened out, okay?"

The other man paled, jumping up from his chair in alarm. "You're leaving me?" he gasped in horror, a look of sheer panic in his green eyes.

Brian shushed him, stepping forward to take Michael by the arm. "Shh, it's just for a little while," he promised his friend, leading him back to the bed. "I want you to rest here for a bit, and wait for me, okay?"

Michael looked up into Brian's face with total trust. "Okay…" he promised in return. "I'll wait for you…" he vowed softly, his eyes devouring Brian's face adoringly.

Brian reached out to tenderly caress a tendril of auburn hair back from Michael's cheek, and then, giving him a sorrowful look, the doctor pushed Michael down on the bed. "I want you to lie still," he ordered, his voice choking with emotion. "And close your eyes. Can you do that for me?"

Obediently, Michael smiled happily and lay flat on his back on the bed, arms straight down at his sides, then squeezed his eyes shut. "Like this?" he asked eagerly.

Brian winced from sorrow, and leaned forward to pat Michael's shoulder, even as he took the syringe full of sedatives out of his pocket. "Yes, Michael, just like that…" he choked out.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Brian shoved up Michael's sleeve and plunged the needle home, even as he bent forward to gently kiss his friend's soft lips…

Michael's eyes came open, startled. The pain of the needle did not register with him, only the pleasure of the kiss. He gave Brian a dreamily joyous smile just before he fell into darkness…..

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

Brian squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode into Madeleine's office. He had done all he could do in preparation for this meeting, desperate times demanding desperate measures. It had only been less than an hour since he had left Michael, helpless and sleeping on his bed in his apartment. Brian had stopped only to secure the small vial in a place where, if Michael was himself again, he would be sure to find it. He had then gone to his office in Medlab for a brief, but crucial moment. His plan, a daring and risky one, was done. It may have been a foolish gamble on his part, or a breathtakingly brilliant strategy- only time would tell.

He sighed with anxiety, knowing he may have already signed his own death warrant. And Michael's as well. But there was no turning back now. The die was cast; his fate, and Michael's, was now in Section's hands. Everything depended on how Madeleine responded to his hasty, ruthlessly desperate plan.

He prayed it would work. If it didn't, neither he nor Michael would live to f*ck with Madeleine another day. And Brian dearly wanted that chance.

"Come in, Doctor," the dark-eyed beauty cooed in greeting from her desk. She glanced at Brian avidly, like a vulture contemplating its prey. She almost salivated while looking at him. "I've been expecting you…" she purred.

Brian gave her a disgusted look, and stepped further inside, carefully descending the stairs. He walked across the carpet to stand in front of Section's chief strategist's desk, glaring at her defiantly.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing with Michael?" Brian shouted angrily. "Do you want him dead, is that it?"

To Brian's intense frustration, Madeleine showed no signs of annoyance at his outburst. She only leaned back in her chair and laughed. "Of course not, Doctor," she drawled, her voice redolent with amusement. "We're just conducting a little experiment, that's all…"

Enraged, Brian stepped closer and slammed his fist hard down on the pristine expanse of Madeleine's glass-topped desk. Her tea-cup rattled dangerously in its saucer for a moment, but did not fall over. "Your little "experiment" as you call it," Brian bellowed furiously, looming over her from his superior height and getting into her face, "is going to destroy him…"

Madeleine did not react to this violation of her space, or to the harsh warning tone of his words; she merely continued to smile at him, amused. "I don't think so, Doctor," she said in an infuriatingly casual voice. "We have everything completely under control…"

Brian stared at her as if she were insane- then he gave a sharp, mirthless laugh. "Oh, you do, do you?" he barked out caustically. "Are you aware that Michael tried to kill himself tonight?"

The brunette sobered slightly, but still kept a trace of her Chesire cat smile. "We're aware of everything, Dr. Whicker," she drawled laconically, "as you should know by now…."

Brian gasped, feeling like he had just been punched in the stomach. "You… watched us?" he choked out, feeling sick.

Madeleine leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers together, and eyed him thoughtfully. "Of course," she told him sweetly. "Michael's reaction to the programming has been very …satisfactory so far…." She smiled again, while Brian stared at her, speechless. "The H-units promise to be quite efficacious in solving some of our more recalcitrant personnel problems…"

"Jesus!" Brian moaned, slumping into a nearby chair. He was appalled by this woman's ruthlessness. Did she even have a heart, or just a lump of coal in her chest? He stared at her in horror, his mouth going dry. "Then you mean you WANT your operatives to be hopelessly emotionally crippled?" he choked out in shock.

Madeleine swiveled in her chair and laughed again. "Not crippled," she amended gaily. "Just broken. Or bent, perhaps, in the direction we want them to go…."

"You are INSANE!" Brian yelled, standing again and leaning his hands on the desk. His blue eyes flashed a warning. "What you're doing to Michael is.. is… heartless!" he stammered loudly, unable to find words to describe how vile and depraved he thought her actions were. "What purpose could this test serve, other than to make Michael suffer?" he asked in genuine bewilderment.

Madeleine paused, eyeing him speculatively. "Michael has already suffered, Doctor," she told him with asperity, "because of his unrequited and misguided love for Nikita…" She sighed, a small frown creasing her smooth, wide brow. "This is also not the first time he has lost the will to live, as you know," she went on tartly. "He was in despair two years ago when he thought Nikita was dead, and then this year we were concerned about him when he lost his son…"

She smiled suddenly, a smile that chilled Brian to his bones. "With the subliminal programming, Michael's suffering, as you call it, has been refocused on a subject over which we have complete control…"

She beamed at Brian, nodding happily. Brian shivered.

"You…" she finished sweetly.

Brian saw red, feeling dizzy and hot, hearing a loud buzzing in his ears. He was so furious he could barely see straight.

"No!" he yelled hoarsely, swaying on his feet, "I won't be used this way!" He fell forward, barely catching himself from falling by gripping the corners of Madeleine's desk. He stared into the deadly, feminine face. "I won't be used to hurt Michael!"

The lovely face took on a stern expression. "You will do as you are told," she ordered caustically. "Under your direction, Michael will do anything you tell him to…" She nodded thoughtfully. "We've already seen how he responds immediately to your slightest suggestion…" Madeleine smiled again, relaxing with a sigh. "It's perfect, really," she mused on. "You must see that. We will direct YOU, and you will in turn control Michael…."

The smile widened. "You have no choice, I'm afraid, Doctor," she murmured gleefully. "No choice at all…"

Brian paused to swallow hard and clear his throat, in preparation for playing his trump card. He felt himself sweating profusely, at the same time chills ran up and down his spine. Stomach heaving, he again clutched the desk for support.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Bitch," Brian addressed her with a smile of triumph. "But this puppet has already cut his own strings…"

Madeleine stared at him, her face hardening, her back stiff. "What does that mean?" she demanded tensely. "What have you done?"

Brian winced as his stomach cramped painfully. "Less than an hour ago," he gasped out hoarsely, "I injected myself with an anthrax variant…" He took in a harsh breath. "In less than twenty-four hours, I'll be dead…."

"What!" Madeleine's smile faded, and she leapt out of her chair. "Get Medical, now!" she screamed in alarm to into her com unit.

Brian smiled wanly and collapsed weakly back into the chair. "They can't help me," he choked out triumphantly, feeling elated and in control although the room spun around him dizzily. "The strain of the virus is a rare one, and only one person has the antidote…."

Madeleine's face blurred before him, but he could still tell he had her attention. "Who?" she asked tightly. "Who has the cure?"

"Michael…" Brian gasped, struggling to stay conscious through this most crucial part. "Tell him I've hidden it in the place where we figured out how much we loved each other…." He whispered softly. "He'll know what I mean…"

"You're insane," Madeleine told him, echoing Brian's comment to her. "What do you hope to achieve by trying to kill yourself?"

Brian grimaced, pleased at her alarmed response, and delivered his coup de grace. "I don't want to kill myself Madeleine," he corrected her. "I just want to save Michael…"

The lovely brunette stood, glaring down at him from above, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "And poisoning yourself is going to achieve that?" she spat out. "What do you think you're doing?"

Brian could barely see now, the world was spinning sickeningly, but he could still derive great pleasure from Madeleine's outraged tone. "Taking back control," he explained breathlessly. "If I die, Michael dies, and I don't think you want that…."

Madeleine closed her eyes, unable to argue with the truth of this statement. Without Brian, it would only be a matter of hours before Michael self-destructed, and there would be nothing Section could do about it.

The Chief Strategist sighed, knowing she had no choice, this time, but to give in. "What do you want?" she demanded sharply, conceding defeat.

Brian smiled through his pain. "De-program Michael," he ordered. "Get him back to the way he was…." The young doctor choked out. "When he's all right again, he can get me the antidote…"

The world tilted then, and went black. Brian did not hear Madeleine's frantic order for the Med Team again, nor did he hear her breathless answer to his demand. If he had, he would have been gratified beyond words by how well his scheme had worked.

"All right, Doctor," Madeleine whispered softly as she knelt by Brian's unconscious body. "You win…"

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

The first thing Madeleine did after getting Brian to Medlab and calling in a team to retrieve Michael from his apartment, was to notify Operations. She would have preferred to leave him out of the loop entirely until she had handled everything herself, but, wisely, she knew that was not an option.

If the silver-haired Section leader discovered in mid-stream that Section had been bested by the gentle, mild-mannered Dr. Whicker, there would be hell to pay. She couldn't afford not to soothe Operations down by informing him of the situation now, in her own way. She wasn't looking forward to that delicate task one bit. Her mind whirled with the myriad of complicated procedures ahead of her. She wouldn't be able to deal with an out of control Section Leader, too. As it was, Madeleine would have to handle not only a dying physician, a seriously compromised Level 5 operative, and now an irate Paul Wolfe as well.

She was definitely not having a good day.

As her luck, or lack of it, would have it, Operations was present in his office that morning, and she didn't have to wait long for him to appear. A mere half hour later, Paul burst into her windowless lair, temper fuming.

"What's this about Dr. Whicker interfering with our H-unit project?!" he demanded on arrival, barking out the words without preamble. "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

Madeleine sighed, and stood up from her desk to approach him. She knew it would be a waste of time to ask the furious leader to sit down and listen calmly. Instead, she stepped closer, so that they were almost eye to eye, and answered him promptly.

"He thinks he's saving Michael's life," she explained in a soothing tone of voice. She paused while Operations responded with a loud harummph of disgust and rolled his eyes.

"He may be right," Madeleine added softly.

Paul's eyes widened, taken aback by this unexpected comment. He glared at her for a moment and then demanded an explanation. "And what does that mean?" he barked out. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Madeleine sighed again, her shoulders relaxing slightly. It was going well, she thought. At least Operations was listening. If she phrased everything carefully enough, she just might get through this.

"Frankly, yes," she stated baldly. "The subliminal conditioning we used on Michael WAS effective, but there were problems," she elaborated, still in the carefully modulated melodious voice. "He was becoming too dependent on Dr. Whicker for his decisions; he was unable to think and act for himself…"

Operations raised one eyebrow, his expression one of disbelief. "I thought that was the whole point," he drawled tartly. "I thought we wanted him dependant and under our control…."

The dark-haired beauty paused, and then nodded assent. "Yes, that's true," she conceded gently, "But Michael's ability to make split-second judgement calls in the field would have been compromised by the conditioning. For us to convey orders to him through Brian would have been too cumbersome a method of control…."

She sighed again, not exaggerating her next statement. She had already come to this conclusion in the short time she had been observing Michael and Brian together in Michael's apartment. The rapid unraveling of their top operative's personality had convinced her that the H-unit project was not a viable one. It had taken Brian's desperate grand-stand gesture to finalize that conclusion.

"We don't have the luxury of that kind of time, not on live missions," she went on, her voice softly persuasive. "For the sake of Section, and our success rate, we have to have operatives who can think for themselves. We can't micro-manage every milli-second of every mission from here, particularly not if we have to do so through untrained third parties, such as Dr. Whicker…"

Operations scowled, thrust his hands in his pockets, and stared at the floor. Madeleine held her breath while he pondered her last words. The next minute of silence dragged tensely by.

"So," Paul said at last, letting out a sigh and lifting weary blue eyes to meet hers. "The emotional conditioning program is a failure, then…"

Madeleine exhaled a sigh of relief, pleased that Paul had chosen to focus on the long range aspects of the project, before she got into the specifically more personal, and ugly, details of the short range complications their experiment had precipitated.

"In this specific case, yes," she replied, quick to add a qualifying statement. "But I think the technique will still be useful to us, but we'll only be able to utilize it in carefully chosen cases," she went on rapidly. "We just have to abandon the idea of using it as a general, wide-scale policy…."

Operations nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this news. "I see," he acknowledged calmly, his voice tinged with just a slight overtone of regret. His imagination had been inflamed by the possibilities of the treatment. He had entertained a secret fantasy of subjecting Madeleine's latest paramour, a slickly handsome young Valentine operative named Russell Burke, to the conditioning to make him desire someone else instead. Birkoff, for instance. That would have been amusing, for a little while at least.

He sighed again and then plopped himself in the nearest chair. "So, tell me about the situation with Michael," Operations prodded gently. "What's going on with him?"

Madeleine threw him a grateful look, pleased that he had accepted the bad news as coolly as he had. She just hoped he would still remain as calm when she told him the rest.

She slipped into her seat behind the desk and folded her hands in her lap, buying herself a little time to gather her thoughts. She cleared her throat and began. "Michael is being brought here now by a retrieval Team," she said delicately. "He'll be here soon."

Paul blinked, and leaned forward in his chair. "I don't get it," he said, bewildered, one eyebrow shooting up. "Why a retrieval Team?" he demanded. "Why not just pick up the phone and order him to come in?"

Madeleine cleared her throat again nervously. "Because he's unconscious," she answered tightly. "Dr. Whicker drugged him."

Operations gasped. "Jesus!" he spat out, alarmed. "Not with the same drug he injected into himself, I hope?" The Section leader had been told about Brian infecting himself with the anthrax variant, but not about what he had done to Michael. And why. Madeleine did not relish telling him the rest.

"No," she answered wearily, closing her eyes. "He's just been sedated, not infected…" She sighed again and told him the rest. "But Michael is still in danger. We have to de-program him as soon as possible…."

Operations interrupted her with a wave of his hand. "What's the rush?" he demanded, relaxing into a wry smile. "We can deal with Michael at our leisure…" He stood up, and gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "And if that sentimental wimp of a doctor chooses to off himself with some exotic virus, what do we care, as long as it's not contagious?" he parried with a smile.

Madeleine looked grim. "It's not," she said tightly. "Dr. Whicker made sure that the strain of the toxin was an inert one that couldn't be spread to others."

Paul grinned. "How very thoughtful of him," he drawled sarcastically. "Well, it seems the good Dr. Brian has solved another one of our problems by eliminating himself so neatly…" he gloated in a pleased tone.

He turned toward the door and threw a casual parting remark to Madeleine over his shoulder. "Since you have everything under control, we might as well meet for lunch later, if you like…" he invited with another broad smile. "Is twelve o'clock all right?"

Madeleine let out a harsh sigh and sprang up from her chair. "Paul, wait!" she called out to him. "There's more!"

The handsome leader paused at the threshold and turned back to face her, his smile gone. "What more could there be?" he asked testily, his blue eyes narrowing.

Madeleine came around her desk to be nearer her counterpart before she told him the rest. She had the feeling he would need her close presence when he heard the shocking news.

"We can't let Brian die," she told him breathlessly. "It's not an option…"

Operations stepped back down the stairs, the automatic door whooshing closed again behind him. "Why not?" he queried, tilting his head. He smiled slyly once more. "It sounds like a good option to me…."

Madeleine lost her patience then. "BECAUSE," she spat out with asperity, abandoning any further efforts to couch the intel in gentle phrases, "since undergoing the conditioning, Michael has become so emotionally dependant on Brian that he has already tried to commit suicide, and will probably do so again." The brown eyes flashed dangerously. "The only reason why Michael didn't succeed in blowing his brains out was because Brian stopped him in time."

Paul's eyes widened, the smug look vanishing from his face. He paled visibly, the implications of this news rendering him speechless.

Madeleine went on. "If Brian dies, Michael will, too," she stated baldly. "There will be nothing we can do to stop it." She sighed heavily, and stepped closer, putting a hand on Paul's arm. "Michael will either kill himself, or disintegrate completely into madness," she told him sharply. "Those are our choices."

Operations stared down at her, his brow wrinkling intently. He knew there was more she hadn't told him. "So we have to make sure the Doctor doesn't die," he said slowly. His eyes flashed up to meet hers. "Is that going to be a problem?"

The dark beauty sighed heavily and told him the answer he didn't want to hear. "Yes," she said softly. "It is…."

"Damn!" Paul swore, and collapsed back into the chair by the desk. He rubbed one hand wearily over his eyes and then looked up at Madeleine once more. "Tell me," he ordered curtly. "Tell me all of it."

Relieved to have his full attention at last, Madeleine sighed again and perched near him on the desk, leaning forward. "The anthrax variant is a rare form with an even rarer antidote," she informed him quickly. "Brian hid the antidote somewhere where only Michael could find it."

Operations groaned sharply and Madeleine went on.

"He left a riddle, a puzzle, as the only clue as to where it can be found," she continued tensely. "The only problem is, Michael has to be awake, AND coherent, AND back to his old rational self before he can decipher it…"

Paul's mouth tightened in a grim line. "He has to be de-programmed, then…" he responded, understanding instantly. He shook his head in grudging admiration. "It seems the good Doctor has thought of everything…."

He looked up sharply to meet Madeleine's concerned brown eyes. "Will de-programming Michael be a problem?" he demanded in alarm.

The Chief Strategist closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I hope not," she answered wearily. "Because if is, if we can't get Michael back to his old personality in less than twenty-four hours, he and Brian will both be dead."

Operations jumped up from his chair with a grunt of disgust. "Then don't just stand there!" he shouted angrily. "Get on it, NOW!" He glared at her sharply.

Madeleine nodded, suddenly calm. This one hurdle of telling Operations had been successfully cleared. Now she could get on to the rest of her tasks.

With a small smile, she stepped toward her paramour and comrade and took his arm in hers. "I'm going to Medlab now," she invited softly. "Care to join me?"

For a moment Paul's face softened. It was like old times, having Madeleine looking up at him with such trust. Perhaps he would not have to resort to drugging the competition to win her back. The two of them still made a pretty damn fine team, after all, Paul thought.

"Let's go," he told her gallantly, smiling back. And then arm in arm, the pair of ruthless Leaders went out into the hall together, intent on saving their own little corner of the world.

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

Just as Operations and Madeleine were rounding the corner of the hallway to van access on their way to Medlab, the lights in the corridor flashed red and a harsh siren sounded, signaling the arrival of the retrieval team. The leaders halted, standing at alert as the bay doors crashed open and the team burst into the hallway, their target struggling in the midst of them.

At first all Madeleine could see was a tangle of black-clad arms and legs and shoulders; The team she had sent to retrieve Michael consisted of four men, some of Section's finest, all over six feet tall and built like line-backers. She hadn't wanted to take any chances when it came to capturing Michael. Sedated or not, Section's top operative would be a challenge for any team, no matter how well prepared, no matter how well armed. Past experience had proven that. It would be very difficult for this, or any other, team to take Michael where he didn't want to go. And apparently, that was the case this time.

A blue-velour clad arm flashed from the center of the circle of strong bodies, as well as a powerful, kicking bare leg. Michael was making his wishes known. Above the grunts of pain of the wildly thrashing retrieval team, they could hear Michael shouting.

"Get away from me!" he cried loudly. "Let me go!"

Operations threw his partner a startled look and rushed forward. His first impulse was to order Michael shot with a tranq gun; that was standard procedure for dealing with unruly prisoners. But in this case, sedating Michael again was not an option- he needed to be alert and conscious for the reprogramming. Out of instinct, and against his better judgement, Operations stepped closer and shouted a harshly barked order to his men.

This was Michael, after all.

"Stand down and let him go!" he yelled. "Now!"

Almost gratefully, the team of four beefy operatives fell back. The men watched their target carefully, eyeing him warily as they struggled to catch their breath. There was not one of them that wasn't injured somehow, all victims of Michael's expertly placed blows. The men cradled torn shoulders and bleeding jaws; one of them had a broken nose that gushed blood.

In the center of the circle they formed around him, Michael stood wild-eyed and panting, his hair tousled and tangled around his face, his feet bare, naked except for the soft velour robe that had become loosened in the fight, revealing a tempting expanse of hard, muscled chest and taut thighs. He held his arms out in a defensive posture, watching his captors avidly for any new signs of attack. The expression in the wide green eyes was one that Operations had never seen there before.

Michael was…. Afraid.

Operations flinched. This couldn't be Michael. Not the Michael that he knew- the man that never lost his calm, controlled, self possessed, polite demeanor, even under torture. This Michael was like someone else- Distraught, desperate, emotional, out of control, needy. Vulnerable.

My God, thought Paul in shock. My God, he's… crying…

To Operation's horror, Michael had taken one look at the Section leaders and had burst into tears. He obviously recognized them as people who had authority over him in the past. Now instead of fighting them, Michael had crumpled to his knees in front of him and Madeleine and was sobbing brokenly, begging them for help…

"Let me go back there…." He pleaded as he wept. "Please!" he heaved a huge sigh and groveled at Madeleine's feet, clutching desperately at her skirt. "Brian…." He sobbed loudly. "I need Brian…"

Operations could only stare at him, stunned. To his great admiration, Madeleine remained in control, knowing exactly what to do. "There, there," she soothed the broken operative at her feet. She reached out to gently pat Michael's hair. "What about Brian?"

Michael gulped back tears and cleared his throat to speak. "He told me to lie down on my bed and rest- to wait for him…." The handsome operative choked out brokenly. "I have to be there when he gets back…" he explained in a desperately pleading tone. "Please, please, let me go back…."

Madeleine leaned forward and caressed Michael's tear-stained cheek. "Shh, it's all right," she soothed him. "Brian is right here, in Medlab," she invited slyly. "Do you want to go see him?"

Michael's tears stopped immediately, a smile of joy breaking over his face. "Can I?" he asked eagerly, his eyes wide and trusting as a child who had been offered candy by the proverbial stranger.

Operations could only stare at them, speechless, as Madeleine held out her hand to help Michael to his feet. Michael placed his fingers in hers and stood, innocent and guileless as a child. He eyed Madeleine and Operations shyly, and ducked his head, confessing his need in a soft, hesitant voice. "I really love Brian," he told them sweetly. "I couldn't live without him…."

Operations stifled a groan, for once agreeing with Dr. Whicker's assessment of the situation. If Michael couldn't be cured of this state of emotional paralysis, he was better off dead.

"He's right this way," Paul managed to choke out, gesturing stiffly to the end of the hall. "Brian is waiting for you…"

Michael's face lit with joy, as happy as a little boy on Christmas morning. Still holding Madeleine's hand, he set off eagerly down the hallway, striding so fast and taking such large steps that the willowy brunette could hardly keep up. Behind Michael's back, Operations indicated to the retrieval team that they should follow. They would be needed when Michael realized he had been tricked….

It didn't take long for the strange party to reach Medlab through the cold steel corridors. Michael led the way, breathless and wide-eyed , tugging Madeleine behind him in his wake. Operations followed close behind, while the wary, scowling retrieval team brought up the rear of this odd procession. Michael, intent on his goal of getting to Brian, appeared not to notice them. He stared straight ahead, murmuring Brian's name and occasionally urging Madeleine to go faster.

At last they arrived at their destination, pushing through the swinging Medlab doors. Madeleine gulped in a big breath of air and pulled Michael in a forward direction. "This way…" she urged him, tugging him toward the door of a room some distance down the corridor on the right.

Michael obeyed, trotting behind the chief Strategist as eagerly as a puppy. Operations tensed warily, wondering how Michael would react when he found out the room he would enter did not contain Brian…

But it did.

To Operations' surprise, when the group slipped inside the small room, there was someone already in it.

Dr. Brian Whicker lay pale and silent on the bed, his once vibrant form quiet and quiescent. An oxygen mask covered his face, but even with this help, his breathing was still ragged and audibly uneven. An IV bag dripped fluids into a needle in his arm, and a bank of monitors sluggishly flashed and beeped in time with his flagging heart-beat.

He looked like Death.

In the doorway, Michael's smile faded when he saw his corpse-like friend, and he let out a wail of sheer agony. "No!" he screamed, rushing forward, his face contorted in pain. "Brian! Brian!" he cried, clawing frantically at the oxygen mask so that he could caress his Beloved's face. "Brian, please! Wake up!" He collapsed, sobbing, onto Brian's softly rising chest. "Don't leave me!" he howled plaintively, clutching his friend desperately, soaking his blanket with hot tears…

Behind him, Madeleine jerked her head toward the other bed in the room, and hissed a swift order to the retrieval team. "Put him there…." She whispered to the men, and then, carefully, she sidled up to Michael, putting one hand cautiously on his shoulder.

"You can help him, Michael…" she crooned seductively. "You can save him…."

Michael froze, his crying ceasing, and then he lifted up his head from Brian's shoulder to stare into her warm brown eyes. "I… I c-can?" he stammered breathlessly, the green eyes wide and brimmed in tears.

"Yes, you can…" Madeleine promised him gently. "You can donate some blood to him and he'll be all right," she lied smoothly. "Would you do that for him?"

Michael straightened and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes," he answered swiftly, his trembling lower lip firming with resolve. "I'd do anything for Brian…"

Madeleine smiled, and held out her hand. "Good," she told him, again in the sweet, gentle tone. "Come lie down here and we'll start…"

Michael took her hand and stepped quickly toward the cot, a hospital gurney just like Brian's that came equipped with monitors and restraints. It was here that Michael would undergo the arduous and painful process of de-programming.

Operations held his breath and stepped back to give the retrieval team room to pounce on their prey. He could feel the four men poised tensely behind him, waiting for the right moment to strike…

Closer, closer, Michael inched toward the bed. When he reached the foot of it, he hesitated, as if some instinct from his old life warned him of danger. Madeleine smiled at him from the opposite side of the cot and then she leaned forward and patted the center of the smooth white sheets.

"Here, Michael," she beckoned him. "Lie down right here…"

The wide-eyed operative paused, breathing hard, looking like a deer about to bolt. He stared from Operations to Madeleine and back again, and then hesitantly shrank away from the cot. He let out a soft whimper and turned to run…

"Get him!" Operations ordered sharply. "NOW!"

Before Michael had turned around all the way, the men were on him. He was tackled forcefully and knocked back on the bed. Again, he struggled mightily, drawing more blood, but this time it was the retrieval team that had the advantage. Michael was out-manned and out- maneuvered. With one man at each corner of the bed, each holding down a limb, Michael could only thrash helplessly in their not -so -gentle grip. The team knew well what kind of injuries Michael was capable of inflicting if he were free, and they held him accordingly. One by one, they began to apply the restraints to wrists and ankles.

"No!" the frantic captive sobbed harshly, bucking and twisting vainly on the bed. "No, please!"

Madeleine and Operations watched grimly as the men secured the last strap, and then stood back from the bed. Michael lifted his head up from the pillow, tears welling in his hurt green eyes, realizing the depth of his leaders' betrayal.

"Let me go!" he begged roughly, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. "Let me help Brian!"

Madeleine moved forward, gently pressing him back onto the pillow with a firm hand on his bare shoulder. "You ARE going to help Brian, Michael," she assured him softly. "That's what we want you to do…."

Michael paused, staring at her, and then glancing over at Brian's still form, and then back again. His mouth firmed into a stubborn line and he gave Madeleine a mulishly suspicious look, regarding her with an expression of intense loathing. Madeleine wondered why the look in his eyes seemed so familiar…

In the next instant she knew. Michael had indeed learned a few things from Brian.

His lip curled in disgust and he spat out the harsh words she had heard before, only never from Michael's lips….

" BITCH!" he yelled loudly. "You heartless, lying BITCH!!"

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

In the end, Operations found himself unable to stay and watch as the reprogramming proceeded. He lingered for the first hour, during which the retrieval team was dismissed and the Psych technicians were brought in. Madeleine directed everything quietly, as the workers attired in white lab coats bustled around the captured operative on the bed, attaching soft sensor pads to Michael's forehead and chest, and connecting them by leads to monitors and screens. The small room quickly became crowded with personnel and equipment. There was barely enough room for them all, and Paul marveled briefly that Brian could still remain unconscious and still amid all the activity.

But it was not the crowd in the room that drove Operations to seek sanctuary in the peace of his office. It was Michael.

The tormented operative never stopped struggling. He groaned and cried piteously, made frantic by the fact that his Beloved Brian was just a few feet from him, and he was unable to reach him. Michael begged the technicians to free him, to let him go to Brian, but, of course, they ignored him. Frustrated and panicked, Michael whimpered his lover's name over and over, and fought against the restraints, rubbing his ankles and wrists raw, until they were bruised and bleeding.

Madeleine ordered the straps tightened so that Michael had even less freedom of movement. Paul winced as this was done, knowing that the leather bonds biting into Michael's ravaged skin must hurt him fiercely. But Michael seemed oblivious to the pain, at least pain of the physical variety.

Instead, he seemed tortured, emotionally. Michael sobbed brokenly for Brian, the man on the bed next to him his only focus. Along with the anguish in his green eyes, there was fear. Not fear of what Madeleine and the technicians would do to him, but fear that he would be separated from Brian, either physically or by Death. The terror and longing in his eyes was unmistakable. Operations had never seen Michael so open, so vulnerable. The cool Section operative's disintegration was painful to watch, as the formerly controlled and composed, RESERVED, Michael dissolved into a creature consumed by need and ravaged by dread.

No, Paul couldn't watch any longer. The wrenching sounds of Michael's desperate crying tore at his insides. He had to leave.

"I'll be in my office," he told Madeleine gruffly, laying a hand on her arm. "Keep me informed, all right?"

The warm brown eyes met his anguished gray-blue, and she nodded in complete understanding. This wasn't easy for her, either. "Of course," she answered gently. "I'll contact you."

Paul nodded in relief, and with one last glance at the disturbing tableau before him, he slipped gratefully out the Medlab door into the hallway, feeling like a prisoner who had made his escape to freedom. He was amazed that this scene with Michael had disturbed him so much. He lit a cigarette with a shaky hand as he walked back to his office, pondering what he had seen. Operations had watched - and inflicted- tortures far worse than what Michael was enduring right now. In fact, as tortures went, Michael was getting off easy. Paul realized suddenly that what had unsettled him so much was not the fact that Michael's body was being restrained and controlled, but that his MIND was…

No, not his mind, Paul amended to himself. His SOUL. Section had f*cked with Michael's soul, his heart, his feelings, his very essence. That was why Paul couldn't bear to be there, to witness Michael's torment, to watch…

Paul shivered. There were things far worse to endure than just physical pain, and this was one of them. Michael's soul was in Hell, and Section had sent him there.

Operations shuddered, and then climbed the stairs to the tower office. As soon as he arrived, he pressed the control switch to darken the windows to privacy. He seldom drank in the day-time, but this time he would allow himself an exception to this rule. He poured himself a generous whiskey with a shaking hand, and knocked back half the contents of the glass. The alcohol did nothing to warm the cold feeling he had inside.

"Hang on, Michael," he found himself whispering to the empty room. "Hang on…"

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

In ten hours, it was over. Michael had been subjected to an unrelenting battery of re-conditioning procedures, some painful, all distressing-- for him, and for Madeleine, who watched tensely from the corner of the room nearby, never leaving his side. She had been there while he screamed with terror, lost in the agony of having his soul, his feelings, wrenched out of him and then rearranged. There were moments when Madeleine was sure they had lost him, that the harsh procedures of the tests had driven Michael's soul so completely underground that they would never be able to retrieve him again from the dark abyss of insanity that he retreated to.

But they didn't lose him. Michael, as a soul, a personality, was strong. Thank God for that, his mentor thought gratefully to herself. Thank God for that.

She watched avidly as the man on the bed stirred and opened his eyes. The equipment and monitors had been removed from the room, the technicians gone. It was only the two of them now, she and Michael, and the silent, pallid Brian, still comatose on his hospital bed, to witness this miracle of recovery.

Sweat covered his half bare chest and dampened the auburn curls that lay clinging in wild disarray to his strong neck and flushed forehead. The sensor pads had left red marks on his chest and face, showing only slightly darker than his bright pink skin. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running-which might have been the case, considering he had spent this long day being chased by demons.

He blinked rapidly in the harsh light and took a gasping breath. Michael made to sit up, but was unable to, held back by the restraints that were still in place on his wrists and ankles. He turned his head toward her and their eyes met.

"Untie me," he requested calmly, totally composed. "Please."

Madeleine smiled. It was him. The old Michael was back.

"Of course," she agreed immediately, stepping swiftly forward to release him from the leather straps. A few moments later, it was done, and Michael sat up carefully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled his blue robe more securely closed around him and tightened the sash at his waist, then tugged the bottom of the garment down, arranging it more modestly around his bare legs. All this was done in silent dignity. Madeleine needed no more proof than this that Michael was indeed fully recovered.

Still, she couldn't resist asking her next question.

"How do you feel, Michael?" Madeleine said eagerly, watching him with avid interest.

The response was all that she could have hoped.

He sighed softly, and then gave her a harsh, blank stare. "I'm fine," he told her tonelessly.

Madeleine smiled; she couldn't help herself. It was so good to have him back.

"What do you remember?" she queried gently.

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes glittering dangerously. His lower lip no longer trembled, but was set firm with anger. "Everything," he answered tightly. "I remember everything."

Madeleine gave a slight nod of acknowledgement at this statement, and then looked up at him slyly through lowered lashes. "I see," she said softly.

The handsome patient glared at her, and then slipped down from the bed. "You used the H-units to re-program my emotions," he said roughly, his voice tense. "Then you de-programmed me when it wasn't working…."

"True," Madeleine assented in a gently tone, his voice holding no apology or guilt. "That's essentially what happened."

Michael stared at her for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw twitching nervously. He shifted his eyes to the bed in the corner of the room, where Brian lay helplessly unconscious. Michael approached the gurney slowly, walking haltingly the few steps between them to stand protectively by the bed. He reached out one injured hand to gently brush back a lock of unruly black hair from Brian's forehead, and then caressed his thumb tenderly across one dark eyebrow. The young doctor did not stir, or respond in any way, to this touch. He made no sound; the only sounds in the room were made for him, by the continuous beeping of the monitors that recorded the faint pulse of his ebbing life.

Michael's back stiffened, and he fought back tears. "What happened?" he demanded hoarsely, turning his head swiftly to fix Madeleine with his laser-sharp stare, the silver-green eyes flashing dangerously. "Did you try to program Brian, too, and it didn't work?" he asked in a harsh, anguished tone.

Madeleine gave in to her overwhelming impulse to go to him, to touch him, to impart some measure of comfort to the operative that had suffered so much. But Michael did not want her comfort- he flinched back when she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, and glared into her eyes.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded tensely through tight lips.

Madeleine withdrew her hand and stepped away from him, gazing back at him with sympathetic brown eyes. "We didn't do anything to him," she stated carefully. She paused to lick dry lips. "Brian did this to himself."

Michael's response was definite and immediate. He flinched again, going pale with anger. "I don't believe you," he spat out furiously, shaking his head.

Madeleine sighed. "It's true," she declared wearily. "I wish it weren't." She stepped closer to Brian's bedside, and gazed down on the comatose young doctor struggling to breathe on the bed. "Dr. Whicker injected himself with a rare anthrax variant," she explained in low voice.

Michael turned to look at her, his eyes betraying his confusion and bewilderment. "Why?" he gasped hoarsely, reeling in shock. "Why would he do that?"

Madeleine met his eyes for a long moment, and then sighed again. "To help you, Michael," she told him gently. "He knew in the state you were in, that you wouldn't last long if he…. Died…."

Michael let out a soft whimper of pain at these words, and Madeleine went on. "He did it to force us to de-condition you, to get you back to normal…" she continued softly. "He knew we would do everything we could not to lose you…"

Michael shook his head as if to clear it, having trouble processing this indigestible news. He let out a harsh gasp, and then surprised Madeleine by gripping her suddenly by the upper arms and hauling her on her tip-toes to face him. "All right, your experiment is done…" he choked out hoarsely, his eyes desperate. "Give him the antidote!" Michael begged intently. "Please!"

Madeleine stared up into his face, remaining calm, even though she knew Michael was capable of killing her with his bare hands right then if she gave the wrong answer.

"We can't, Michael," she said in the same careful, gentle tone. "Only you can do that."

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

Michael stared at her as if he hadn't heard her right. What Madeleine said made no sense. How could HE be the only one who could give Brian the antidote? Taken aback by her inexplicably enigmatic answer, Michael sighed in frustration and let his prisoner go, setting her away from him. "What does that mean?" he demanded sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Madeleine staggered back a few steps, rubbing her sore upper arms. Michael's grip had bitten into her flesh painfully, and she was acutely aware of his strength and the potential danger she was still in, despite his being, after his ordeal, in a supposedly weakened state. For all his exhaustion, Michael was at this moment completely rational, alert, and in control. She couldn't help sparing a moment to admire this, even though the way he was staring angrily at her was, to say the least, a little unsettling.

She took in a deep breath and began her explanation. "Brian hid the antidote- we don't know where…" she elaborated quickly. "We would have given it to him, I promise you, Michael, if we had had access to it…"

Michael paled further, stricken by this news, and swayed on his feet, stunned. "You're saying he has to die?" he gasped in horror. "There's no to save him?" He turned his head to stare at his friend on the bed, tears of anguish starting in his eyes.

Madeleine shook her head, and then went to him, pushing him back a little until the back of Michael's knees met the edge of the bed. She shoved him gently down on the cot, worried that if he didn't sit down right then, that he would pass out. She could feel his broad shoulder trembling under the soft blue robe.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," she told him in a bracing tone. "Brian left a clue to the antidote's whereabouts, but it's a clue that only you can figure out…" She shook her head again in bewilderment. "It made no sense to us…"

Michael blinked, and then let out a sharp sigh, half relief, half frustration. "What was it?" he demanded harshly. "What was the clue?"

Madeleine paused and closed her eyes, remembering. She spoke carefully, enunciating each word slowly, wanting to get the phrasing just right. Lives- Brian's, Michael's, perhaps Section's- depended on it.

"He said," she told him on a softly exhaled breath, "To tell you that he had hidden the antidote in the place where you and Brian had figured out how much you loved each other…."

Michael stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, then buried his face in his hands and groaned. My God, he thought in horror to himself, his heart sinking, Where could that be? He and Brian had been with friends for years, and lovers once. They had been close to each other, had been on multiple missions together, all over the world. There had been so many times they had saved each other's lives, had looked out for each other. Times where one of them had protected the other from Section, from Madeleine. Hell, Michael thought, RIGHT NOW was one of those times.

"Michael?" Madeleine probed gently. "Do you know where the antidote might be?"

Michael turned up his face to meet hers, his eyes anguished. "No…." he choked out, trying to stifle his panic. "I have no idea where it could be…." He cried, his voice quavering. "The clue is too vague.." he declared with an angry moan, coming to his feet. He gazed around the room, angrily, as if her were a caged animal looking for escape. "Christ, we've been friends for years! We've been around the globe, all over Section. It could be anywhere…"

"Don't panic," Madeleine soothed, although she could barely take this advice herself, aware that Brian had only a few hours left to live. "The clue might not be as vague as you think it is…." She stepped forward and gently pushed Michael down again to sit once more on the bed. He did not resist her, slumping disconsolately onto the mattress to stare across at the dying young doctor on the hospital bed.

Michael said nothing, his eyes dark jade pools of pain. Madeleine tried to rouse him from his despair.

"Stay here and think," she ordered firmly. "Lie back, close your eyes, and really concentrate on the clue," she instructed in a bracing tone. "Something will come to you, Michael, I'm sure of it…."

Michael let out a shaky breath, his whole body trembling with misery. This was too horrible. If Brian died, it would all be his fault. Because he had failed his friend- failed to save him, failed to understand his feelings….

"I'll… try…." Michael choked out a response at last, mostly because he thought Madeleine expected one.

She smiled at him briefly. "Good," she said in the same bracing tone. "When you remember, call me, and we'll send out a team to retrieve the drug immediately, all right?"

Michael closed his eyes and shuddered, believing in his heart that Brian would be dead before they could enact this hopeful scenario. His mind whirled, stricken with a wrenching despair.

"All right," he whispered slowly, staring blindly at the drab white floor. "Thank you…"

Madeleine gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, shrewdly assessing his state of mind. Satisfied that she had done all she could do for the moment, she nodded again, and then slipped quietly out the room, shutting the heavy metal door behind her.

Michael and Brian were alone. One dying physically, one dying emotionally. It would be hard to say in this moment which one of them suffered more.

Michael did as Madeleine said, collapsing back onto the bed. He curled up in a fetal position and closed his eyes, hugging himself for comfort. A maelstrom of emotions washed over him, leaving him breathless and trembling with their intensity.

Guilt. Tenderness. Fear. Confusion. And…. Anger.

Damn him! Michael thought furiously. How DARE Brian do this to him? What the f*ck did he think he was doing?! How the hell was he supposed to figure out how to save him, to save them both? Michael moaned again. He was weary and exhausted, his reserves gone, almost every ounce of strength spent in the efforts of recovery. He had no resources to deal with this new, incomprehensibly formidable challenge. He could barely think straight, let alone do the mental gymnastics required to figure out this puzzle.

Damn him! Michael thought again. Why couldn't Brian have given him a clue that was more direct than this- something straightforward, something simple…

Confusion replaced the anger he was feeling, washing over him in waves of despair. Where? He asked himself. Where had that moment taken place, the moment they had decided what they meant to each other?

There had been a stunningly desperate moment in a car in Key West, when Brian had turned to Michael and said that he loved him. That had been the first time that word had been used between them, by Brian alone. Until then they had talked of their relationship in terms of attraction and caring, not love. Was that it? Had that been the time Brian was talking about?