This is a story dedicated to two courageous women that I know in real life. One of them you know as Lucinda, who wanted to be in another story, and since she is a tremendously wonderful person in real life (yes, I got to meet her!) I was more than happy to oblige her. So, Lucinda, for all you've done for me and the writers here, this one's for you. Hope you like it!

The other lady this story is dedicated to is Sharon, a real life friend back in NC who has had many severe challenges in her life, among them is the challenge of living with MS. What little I know about this terrifying disease is from watching her deal with it, and what little I know about bravery has also been a lesson I have learned from her. I’m sure Lucinda wouldn't mind sharing the spotlight just a "leetle beet."

On to the story. This is a sequel to "Influenced", which left Michael and Brian's relationship in a bad place. This story will be about the mending of that rift.

There will be lots of evil Madeleine, some mention of sexual situations, a few bad words, a wee bit of kissing and romance, but alas, no nekkid Mikey. Warnings complete LOL

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

"Sh*t," cursed Dr. Brian Whicker under his breath, annoyed and frustrated. He leaned back in his chair in his office and wearily rubbed his eyes. It was late afternoon, the worst part of his day, and he had been entering medical reports into his computer for several hours now. The work was tedious, but at the same time not mind-numbing enough to let him forget recent events. At least when he was with patients he could absorb himself in his work and for a time forget what had happened between him and Michael- and believe it, he WANTED to forget….

Brian sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair, the black curls springing back in a glossy tangle from his long fingers. Inwardly he cringed, as the memories came back unbidden, stabbingly sharp and raw.

Three weeks. It had only been three weeks since it had happened, the night Michael had told him he didn't want to see him anymore, that their friendship was over. Brian had been devastated by this decision, wounded to his soul, but at the same time, no matter how he rationalized his own behavior to himself, Brian could not find it in himself to blame Michael for ending their association.

After all, thought Brian miserably, when it came down to it, Brian had raped Michael. There was no getting around it. Brian had to be honest with himself. Madeleine had drugged Michael, conditioned him, put him under Brian's total emotional control, and Brian had succumbed to the desire to be with this beautiful lover. The two men had made love, and even though later Brian had learned that he himself had been influenced and drugged as well, the fact remained that Brian had not resisted this temptation.

Brian bit back a sob, his eyes filling with tears. No wonder, he thought bitterly. No wonder Michael hated him.

He took a shaky breath and half-heartedly tried to go back to his paper work and failed. The memories of these last few weeks haunted him. He had spent the first week after Michael's declaration that they were over in Medlab, recovering from the virus and the debilitating effects of the re-conditioning. He had proved to be a difficult patient; the young doctor had refused to eat (actually, he had spent the week being too choked with tears to swallow anything) and the medical staff had been forced to feed and hydrate him by IV. He couldn't sleep either, made restless by the emotional and physical pain he was in. Again, the staff had had to take desperate measures and had resorted to drugging him to get him to rest.

The second week he had finally been allowed out of Medlab, the head physician on his case deciding that Brian would perhaps recuperate faster at home. Gaunt, hollow-eyed, and pale, Brian had returned to his apartment. There, he didn't fare much better. He still did not eat, or sleep. What rest he managed to get was disturbed by nightmares, and he was too listless and depressed to cook for himself, or even to dress or shower. He moved through his old home like a zombie, or a ghost, haunting his old life. He did feel like a ghost, after all. The old Brian- confident, bright, happy, sure of himself and of his own goodness- was gone. That Brian had died the moment he had realized that he had hurt and abused Michael. In his place was a new Brian, physically looking the same, but inside his bright shiny soul was dimmed, contorted and deformed by the darkness of his guilt and shame, his never-ending sorrow that ate at his insides like bitter acid.

The third week he had fled, almost gratefully, back to Section, returning to work. Even though he was terrified of running into Michael, of encountering his old friend again, still, Brian preferred to risk that to the never-ending torment of being alone at home with his own thoughts. At least, if he were in Medlab helping patients, he reasoned, his life wasn't totally worthless.

Work had proved not to be much of a respite from his emotional torment after all. He couldn't stop thinking about Michael, and about what had happened between them. Brian went through the motions, was back in his old routine, but he was still shaky and uncertain inside. His co-workers and acquaintances didn't call him on it, attributing his listlessness and fatigue to the after effects of his illness. Brian was pathetically grateful that the true reason for his depression was not common knowledge. Then embarrassment would have been added to the list of torturous emotions he already suffered: he had enough to deal with with just the guilt, shame, and regret.

In short, Brian was miserable. He felt like he was in a hole that he couldn't dig himself out of. The only bright spot in his life was the knowledge that Ann, his girlfriend, would be returning from her mission soon, and that he would see her tomorrow. This fact frightened and at the same time soothed him as well. He didn't know how he was going to explain things to her, or how she would re-act when he told her the truth. He only knew that in is heart burned a small flame of hope when he thought of her. He wanted to see her, to hold her, to have her smile at him, to have her tell him everything would be all right. Anticipating Ann's calm, sweet acceptance of him was the only thing that was keeping him sane right now. Somehow, he hoped that in her presence he would begin to heal, would learn how not to hate himself. The pain was almost unbearable, Brian yearned for the comfort of seeing Ann; her love, her fine, rational, tolerant mind, would put this all in perspective somehow.

He needed her. He loved her.

With this thought, feeling calmer than he had for days, Brian sighed again and went back to his stack of paper work. This time he actually became so absorbed in them that he almost literally jumped out of his skin when the office phone rang, jolting him out of his fragile peace.

Nerves jangling, Brian snatched up the receiver from its cradle on his desk and barked his response into it. "Whicker here," he answered curtly, trying to keep the nervous apprehension out of his voice.

"Brian," a soft, French-accented voice whispered tensely in his ear. "Can you come to my office, please?"

Brian blinked for a moment, and almost dropped the phone, his grip on the receiver loosening as his astonishment registered.

"Michael?" the young doctor gasped in shock. "What's this about?" he blurted out without thinking. "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore?" he asked breathlessly with hopeful eagerness. "I thought you never wanted to see me again…" Too late, the words were out, Brian kicking himself for the wistful, hurt tone in his voice that he hadn't intended Michael to hear, for the words he hadn't meant to say.

I should have just answered yes, been all business, Brian admonished himself, feeling foolish. Instead of spilling my guts all over the place he thought, cringing in embarrassment. Jesus, now Michael knows I'm not over him…

There was a long, tense silence, and then Michael came back on the line. "Just come," Michael ordered, although his tone was almost kind. "We need to talk."

This time it was Brian who paused for a long time before answering. Butterflies in the pit of his stomach flipped and twisted painfully, and a chill ran up and down his spine. Unsettled and terrified, Brian bit his lip hard and then spoke his response tensely into the phone. "On my way," he choked out, and then hung up before Michael could say anything else.

The doctor flew out of his office, his nervousness making him almost run toward this terrifying appointment. Fear twisted Brian's insides, as well as a small, flickering, but rapidly growing flame of hope. What was wrong? He wondered. Was Michael in some sort of trouble? Or was what Michael needed to talk to him about not about a problem, but about…. Them? Did Michael want to be friends again? Was it possible he was as miserable with the way the situation was as Brian himself? Whatever it was, Brian was anxious to help. He missed the old comfort between them, before all this had happened. He missed Michael. It would be wonderful to just see him again, to talk things out…

Brian reached Michael's office door, in a fever of anticipation. Michael had called HIM, so that meant that Michael wanted a truce, a reconciliation…Didn't it? Flooded with hope, Brian rapped sharply on the door and then went in.

"You wanted to see me?" the young doctor said breathlessly, bounding into the room. What he saw made him stop in his tracks. Michael was behind his desk, hands folded conservatively in his lap. The tight-lipped expression on his face and the cold look in his eyes let Brian know immediately that things had not thawed between them after all. The chasm of distance was still there; they were no closer than before. Brian's heart fell.

"Come in," Michael invited politely, his strain at Brian's presence evident.

The young doctor let out another long breath, and reluctantly stepped forward and took a seat in the chair before Michael's desk. He crossed his arms across his chest as if needing this gesture to shield his heart. "What's this about?" Brian blurted out curtly.

Michael sighed in turn, and held Brian's gaze for a long moment, his eyes blank and unreadable. Finally, he answered. "It's a mission," he told Brian tightly, his voice tense and strained. "Madeleine wants us to work together…"

"Jesus CHRIST!" Brian burst out, interrupting. In an instant, he was up out of his seat, pacing frantically and running a nervous hand through his thick, dark hair. "No, Michael," the doctor said firmly, holding his hand up as if to ward off a blow. "I'm not doing this…." He shook his head emphatically, coming to a halt just in front of Michael's desk. "That bitch has screwed with us too much already," he spat out, enraged, "And frankly, I don't think I can handle too much more…." His voice broke on the last word.

Michael flinched as if from a blow, his eyes narrowing in pain. "I know…" he whispered tensely. "I know it's been hard for you…."

Brian blinked, and froze where he stood, the sad tone of Michael's voice arresting him. He knew Michael resented him, was pissed off at him, and he had a right to be, but now…

Now he sounded as if all he felt was … pity. It was unbearable. Tears stinging his eyes, Brian turned on his heel and rushed toward the door. He had to get out of there before he lost it in front of Michael completely.

Before he could escape, however, Michael bolted out of his chair and came toward the younger man, gripping him by his sleeve. Brian, forced to stop, turned his head and met Michael's soft green eyes. It was the first time they had touched since the night they had made love. Michael could feel Brian trembling under his hand.

"Sit down," Michael ordered, his tone at once stern but tender. "There are some things I have to explain…."

Brian stared at him for a moment longer, debating to himself whether to go or stay. At last he bit his lip and nodded, then silently stepped away from Michael's restraining hand and settled obediently in the chair, his face grim. Michael sighed with relief, and resumed his seat at his desk.

"We're going out tonight on a retrieval," Michael began quietly. "You'll accompany our Team in the van."

Brian's eyes widened. "Why?" he asked, bewildered. "What do they want me to do?" he demanded, his apprehension growing.

Michael went on, his voice low and soothing. "The target is a young girl with a medical condition," he explained softly. "You'll just be there to monitor her status, in case there are any problems…" The older man leaned forward, meeting Brian's eyes. "As far as I know, that is the only reason you'll be along- for your professional abilities alone…."

Brian looked away, breaking the gaze first. "I see…" he said slowly, frowning down at the floor. He knew it couldn't be that simple. Nothing having to do with Section ever was. There was a trick somewhere, he was sure of it. Madeleine wasn't done f*cking with them, that was for certain.

He looked up after a moment and stared hard into Michael's face. "And what about you?" he asked tightly, tensing in his chair. "What reason are you there for?"

Michael flinched as from a blow. The suspicion in Brian's tone, his distrust, was too plain to ignore. He hates me Michael thought miserably. Brian hates me…"*

"I'll be there as team leader," Michael answered somewhat stiffly, in a defensive tone. "We'll retrieve the girl, and come back to Section, that's all."

Brian nodded slowly. There was more to it. There always was. There was a reason Madeleine was throwing them together again. "Why?" he demanded warily.

Michael blinked, not understanding. "Why.. what?" he asked, confused.

Brian sighed in exasperation and leaned back in his chair, slouching, the frown on his face deepening. "Why bring her in?" he answered gruffly. "What does Section want with this girl?"

Michael shook his head slowly, his face grim. "I don't know," he replied in a soft whisper. "Madeleine said she would brief us on the mission when we return with the target…" He looked away, staring unseeingly out the office window. "All I know is that she is an innocent, and that Section wants her alive and in one piece…."

Brian sighed, and ran his hand over his eyes. "Poor kid," he said with feeling. He straightened and then looked up at his friend. "So we get to f*ck up some other poor slob's life, is that it?"

Michael nodded, not disagreeing with this assessment of their mission. "Be at van access at 7:30 tonight," he ordered Brian gently. "The briefing for the follow-up mission is scheduled for tomorrow…"

Brian gasped suddenly, coming half way out of his seat, remembering what a significant date that was. "Tomorrow?" he blurted out, then shook his head vehemently. "Michael, I can't do this!" he protested in alarm. "You know Ann is coming back from her mission to Brussels tomorrow, and she and I, well… we…." He blushed, embarrassed to explain how much he was relying on Ann's help to heal his emotional wounds from the break-up with Michael, that knowing that he would be seeing her soon was the only thing keeping him together. "We … we had plans…" the doctor finished lamely.

Michael looked stricken, but still went on sternly. "Brian, you can't see her tomorrow," he told the young doctor firmly. "Because she's not coming back…."

Brian paled and shuddered, then bent double as the impact of these words struck him like a blow. "No…" he gasped, feeling unable to breathe, to think… All he could do was feel, feel the searing pain rip through his soul… "No," he moaned, tears blinding his eyes, "She can't be….?"

"No, Brian, no!" Michael assured him, jumping to his feet. In an instant, he had crossed the space between them, and had placed his hand on Brian's shoulder, gripping hard. "Look at me," Michael ordered curtly.

Startled, Brian looked up involuntarily, speechless with apprehension. The green eyes that gazed down into his were kind, still full of pity, as Brian saw it. His stomach tightened nervously, and he clenched his jaw, every muscle tightened, waiting for the final blow.

"I'm sorry," Michael told him with genuine regret. "I shouldn't have phrased it that way…" The hand on Brian's shoulder squeezed tighter. "I meant to say, that Ann was re-assigned to Nikita's team in Amsterdam, and that she won't be back for a few more weeks. That's what I wanted to tell you…"

Brian blinked, then felt the weight on his chest lift enough for him to take a deep breath, his terror easing. He gulped in air, and then leaned forward in his chair and put his head in his hands. "Oh, thank God…" he groaned in relief.

Suddenly, he felt Michael's hand move across his shoulder and, with the lightest of touches, Michael gently placed his fingers on the dark curly head and lightly stroked Brian's hair.

The young doctor looked up, startled. He hadn't expected such tenderness from Michael-not now, when Michael hated and pitied him. Didn't he?

"I'm sorry," Michael said softly, still looking down into Brian's face, gazing at him with focused intensity. "That was… unintentionally cruel …" He licked his lips nervously, and paused, as if weighing how to say the next words. They came out with difficulty, as if forced from his throat, or perhaps someplace deeper. " I didn't mean to hurt you….Will you forgive me?" Michael choked out.

Brian's breath caught in his throat; he stared at his friend, transfixed. It was as if Michael were asking for forgiveness for something else beyond this most recent misunderstanding, these few misspoken words. But what could that be? As far as Brian was concerned, Michael had been totally justified in not wanting to associate with Brian anymore. It was Michael who had been used, Michael's trust which had been betrayed, Michael who had been raped. There was nothing for Michael to be forgiven FOR. So why was he looking at him like that?

"Uh… sure… of course…." Brian stammered uncertainly. "I know you didn't mean to…"

"I didn't." Michael spoke quickly, his eyes suddenly liquid with tears. "I swear, I didn't…"

Brian was puzzled; he had no clue to what "crime" Michael was referring to- all he knew was that his friend obviously needed some kind of reassurance from him that he wasn't angry at him, although Brian had no earthly idea why. To lighten the mood, and to relieve his own growing nervousness in this tense situation, Brian, as usual, made a joke.

The young doctor stood, placed his hand on his hips, and glared down at his friend from his superior height. He scowled threateningly into Michael's face. "I'll forgive you.. THIS time," Brian cautioned in a mock growl, "But if you scare me like that again…." He cautioned, bringing up his hand and balling it into a fist and shaking it front of Michael's face, "Next time, Bud, I swear, I'm gonna KICK your scrawny French ASS…." He shouted, pretending rage.

Michael froze. He stiffened, and stood staring at Brian blankly for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Brian's heart sank, thinking that Michael had taken his overdramatic threat seriously; both of them knew well that Brian was hopeless at fighting, and that Michael, with over a decade and a half of martial arts training and practice, did not have an ass that was likely to be kicked, at least, not by someone like Brian.

Oh, Christ, Brian swore inwardly to himself. Had Michael taken this ludicrous challenge as real? An indication that Brian was planning on being even more brutal to him than he had already been? Brian held his breath. Then, a moment later, to Brian's infinite relief and delight, Michael's tense face relaxed, and he broke out in a genuine laugh.

"Good," Michael chuckled light-heartedly, teasing back. "You do that…" The green eyes sparkled with amusement, creasing into laugh-lines at the corners. His laugh was like the sun coming out from behind dark clouds, dazzling and just as welcome.

Brian grinned back, and let out the breath he was holding, feeling his soul more eased more than it had been for this last torturous month. Michael had smiled at him, had spoken to him. They were going on a mission together- and as much as that thought frightened him, it filled him with hope as well. Perhaps there was still a chance to save their friendship, to resolve the rift between them, to heal the wounds.

He dared not hope that things would go back the way they were; there had been too much damage done for that, in the young doctor's estimation. Brian considered that what he had done in taking advantage of Michael was essentially unforgivable. But he prayed he would have another chance to tell Michael how sorry he was, and that somehow their relationship would heal enough so that it would not be the source of such agonizing bitter pain for both of them.

Michael's laughter was like a soothing balm on Brian's open emotional wounds. He drank in the sound like a man dying of thirst would drink at an oasis in the desert.

But the moment ended all too soon. Michael sobered, and then stood staring at his friend, his face suddenly grave, although his eyes were still alive with amusement.

"I'll see you tonight then," he said softly. It was at once a dismissal, and an order. After the brief seconds of forgetting himself in merriment, the heavy burden of Michael's responsibilities had returned to him, like a heavy cloak descending on his shoulders.

Brian understood. He nodded solemnly, and obeyed. "Tonight, then," he answered gently, unwilling to give Michael any more argument about the mission. He had made his friend's life hard enough; to go along with things for now was the least he could do. He hesitated before leaving, unsure whether to shake Michael's hand or not, but then decided it was too soon. So instead, he just nodded again, and walked in silent dignity out of the room.

He did not see Michael's face fall, nor did he witness the older man suddenly slump defeatedly into his chair behind his desk, and bury his head in his hands when he had gone. And, perhaps mercifully, Brian did not see Michael's shoulders shake violently as he sobbed in silent grief….

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

Lucinda Deveraux sat on her bar-stool and took another sip of her club soda and lime, surveying the Friday evening crowd. The flirting couples that groped each other on the dark dance floor and the predatory wolfish glances that the single men shot her way made her glad that she had never been into one-night stands. She shivered, the whole atmosphere giving her the creeps.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy sex, or disapprove of people who did. She just liked it in a more romantic, less crude, setting than this.

She sighed and swirled the ice cubes in her glass, staring down into her non-alcoholic drink. She didn't drink, either. Never had. That was why she was here tonight, torturing herself in this dreary place. She sighed again, and kicked herself mentally. Christ, she thought angrily to herself. Why did you have to go and volunteer like the goody Two shoes that you are? She berated herself in her mind. You could be at home right now, or at the theater or in a good restaurant, but Noooo, you had to go and sign up to be the designated driver ….

She smiled wryly to herself. It was just another failed attempt of hers to fit in. Her college friends all seemed to be into partying way more than she was, and sometimes the only way to be with people was to go where they wanted to go, to do what they wanted to do.

To a certain point, at any rate, Lucinda amended in her mind. She wasn't about to drink, or smoke, or let herself be fondled by some stranger all evening, but she could watch out for her friends in the only way they would accept. Lucinda had a strong motherly streak, and liked to protect people, to help them. This trait, however, wasn't much appreciated by the independent college crowd she ran with. Lucinda thought her friends found her rather old-fashioned caring distinctly annoying.

But not tonight. Tonight her group all seemed delighted by her concerned suggestion that she come along with them to the bar, and see them all safely home at the end of the evening. It meant, essentially, that they could throw caution to the winds and drink and party with abandon, knowing there was one responsible person there who would make sure they got home in one piece, no matter how wasted they were.

Lucinda looked around at the noisy, dingy bar, filled with all these desperate, manically active people. She was struck by how sad this all was. She had never been so bored in all her life. And so lonely. She sighed again, and closed her eyes. Since her diagnosis three years ago with MS, she had felt isolated from others, different. She had spent her first year in college in a wheel-chair, and now, even though she was having a good period, and was basically in re-mission, she knew she could never be quite so light-hearted and carefree ever again. Certainly not as carefree as her friends were at the moment, cavorting on the dance floor. Lucinda knew that at any moment her symptoms could come back, that she could wake up tomorrow morning unable to walk, unable to speak. She had thought that coming out tonight with her friends would help her forget her illness, but it only seemed to bring it home to her even more than before. The isolation she felt, the sense of being an outcast, stung her painfully.

A sudden movement beside her startled her out of her melancholy reverie. "You're new in town, aren't you?" a wheedling male voice whispered in her ear, leaning close.

Lucinda jumped, and looked up into the face of the amorous intruder. He was very young, with close shaved dark hair, deep blue eyes, and matching gold hoop earrings in his ears. He was very handsome, Lucinda noticed. He was also very persistent, and very drunk.

No, I'm not," she replied with asperity, her brown eyes flashing in annoyance. As pick-up lines go, this was the lamest in the book. And although he might be a little cute, her new companion was a boor. "Excuse me," the girl said acidly, making a moue of disgust. Lucinda made to slip off her bar-stool to beat a hasty retreat, when she felt the young man's hand stray onto her knee, stopping her escape.

"Aww, come on, Sweetheart…" he wheedled in a slurred whisper, grinning lopsidedly down at her. "Come on, let's you and me get out of here, what do you say?" The invasive hand on her knee moved higher, at the same time he leaned closer, as if to kiss her.

Lucinda stiffened and averted her head, and told him no once more. "Leave me alone," she hissed at him, becoming a little frightened as well as annoyed. She wrenched away from him, and slipped down from her bar stool, scanning the smoky, dark room, searching for her friends, her brown eyes a little desperate.

Before she could make her escape, the young man reached for her again from behind, his hand fondling her waist now, then sliding down familiarly along one slim hip. Lucinda gasped in shock and took one step away from him, but he pulled her back sharply against him, pressing her buttocks into his thighs, where she could feel his burgeoning erection stabbing into her through their clothes.

She whimpered and struggled, but the boy had caught her by the wrists now, and she was unable to break free from this unwanted embrace. Lucinda was beginning to panic a little. She wondered if she would have to scream bloody murder in order to gain her freedom, or if anyone would even notice her cries for help in the noisy bar. Her assailant's lips were on her bare neck now, hot and moist. Lucinda shuddered and struggled again.

"Don't!" she shouted, panicking, trying to pull away. The word was lost in the noisy din, and the young man ignored her pleas, his grip vise-like. Relentlessly, he went on with his assault. Heart sinking, Lucinda felt frightened tears sting her eyes as she realized just what a terrifying, desperate situation she was in.

"Please…" she sobbed out in frustration. "Please…."

As if in answer to this plea, the boy suddenly let her go. Lucinda gasped and staggered forward to lean on the bar, the boy's quick release of her throwing her off-balance. She turned her head and saw the reason for her sudden freedom.

A tall, auburn-haired man in black stood calmly with one gloved hand gripping her attacker's neck, the other casually twisting the boy's arm up behind his back. The expression in her savior's green eyes was cool and utterly confident, almost bored. He ignored the choking, gurgling pleas from the struggling boy, and addressed his next words to Lucinda. "Was this… person bothering you, Miss?" the man inquired politely.

Lucinda, hand to her throat, could only stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless. He was beautiful, like some avenging Angel, his face resembling the classic dignity of a Medieval Saint she had once seen in a picture book. He was like someone out of a fairy-tale. She nodded slowly. "Uh huh.." she managed to choke out in response.

The hero's sensuous mouth firmed grimly. "I'll take care of it," he assured her softly. He leaned forward slightly and whispered something, obviously a warning, in the boy's ear. At the same time, the black-gloved hand tightened painfully on the assailant's throat. The captive's eyes widened in fear and he let out a short yelp. Then the man released him, and the boy ran, scurrying toward the exit without looking back, as if fleeing a fire.

Lucinda watched him go in astonishment, then turned to look at her handsome rescuer again. "T-Thank you…" she stammered gratefully. "Th-Thank y-you very much…." She was dismayed to find herself unable to keep her voice steady; in fact, she was shaking violently in reaction, her whole body trembling along with her voice.

"Come," her rescuer uttered warmly, placing a supporting hand under her elbow. Lucinda leaned heavily on his arm, allowing him to lead her to a small, private booth near the back door, the table miraculously clean and empty. The man helped her carefully into her seat, and then slid into the banquette opposite her.

Now Lucinda got an even better look at the glittering green eyes. They searched her face, and then scanned quickly lower, then up again, staring intently. Lucinda blushed, and lowered her gaze to the table-top, suddenly shy. She had no doubt that this stranger had taken in every detail of her appearance in those few seconds, missing nothing. She had worn her long, curly hair loose tonight, the thick reddish-brown waves spilling down past her shoulders and ending several inches past her tiny waist. Some people thought her hair was her best feature, but it was not her only claim to beauty. The creamy skin revealed by her low cut dress was perfect, alabaster smooth, like warm marble. And a surprising, enchanting dimple appeared teasingly at the side of her mouth whenever she smiled.

"You're very beautiful," stated the stranger matter-of-factly. He tilted his head and eyed her curiously. "What is your name?" he asked softly.

The girl dared to look up at him then. "Lucinda," she replied, a little breathlessly, and then added a bit boldly, lifting her chin, "What's yours?"

The man smiled, as if pleased by her eagerness. His face lit with delight, and Lucinda found herself breathless again at his beauty. "You can call me Michael," he answered softly, leaning forward. His eyes searched her face again, locking intimately with hers. Lucinda felt her heart beating faster, and her breath caught in her throat. She waited expectantly, entranced, knowing the next moment would be one of the most important moments of her life, that she was now in the hands of destiny.

"I have a proposition for you," he said after a moment, his eyes narrowing appraisingly.Lucinda flinched, as if he had just thrown cold water on her warm feelings. "Oh?" she replied cautiously, her romantic dream evaporating. Perhaps this man was not a handsome Prince, after all, but yet another predatory snake.

His next words confirmed her greatest fears.

Michael reached into his pocket and took out a business card, holding it out to her. "I represent a very prestigious modeling agency in town," he told her, his voice low, soft and persuasive. "I wonder if you would perhaps like to come to my studio sometime and pose for me?" He reached out his hand to place it gently over hers on the table top. He smiled at her again. "I could use you…." He whispered, voice full of erotic promise.

Lucinda stiffened, and stared at him. The sensuous tone of his voice was unmistakable, as was the very un-business-like way he was caressing her fingers. The dream evaporated, and Lucinda was left with only bitter ashes.

"No, thank you," she said tartly, rising to her feet. Her pretty mouth firmed grimly, and she drew herself up to her full height of just over five feet. Jaw trembling, tears of disappointment stinging her eyes, she managed to choke out with dignity these hurt words.

"You're as bad as the man you saved me from, aren't you?" she demanded in despair. "Your approach is more subtle, but you're after the same thing, aren't you?" She shook her head, and took a step away from the table, ready to leave. Her anger and disappointment made her add a parting protest.

"I'm not for sale, damn it!" she told him, her eyes flashing. She tossed her head, her anger rising, wishing she had something to throw at him. Desperately, she saw what she wanted in his hand and snatched the business card from his fingers and tossed it back him. "And I'm not for free!" she added, trying to clarify her feelings, but just becoming more agitated and muddled. "I'm NOT…" she began again, then stopped, as new tears stung her throat. "Oh, Hell, never mind…." She flung at him, feeling foolish. Blinded with tears and rage, she turned and fled.

She had only gone a few steps when she felt a firm hand grasp her by the upper arm. Breathing hard, she sighed and forced herself to look up into the green eyes.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered sincerely, looking down at her apologetically. "I didn't mean to offend you…"

Inwardly, Michael was dismayed at her reaction, even though outwardly he showed none of his disappointed concern. Madeleine's assessment of the target as being lonely and vulnerable had been correct, but not her calculation that an appeal to the girl's vanity would be the quickest way to success. The girl's strong urge to be popular, to fit in, to be liked, was not more overpowering than her sense of self-worth and dignity. Apparently this Lucinda was not as weak and malleable as they thought.

Michael grimaced, and stifled a sigh. His primary plan to persuade her to leave with him had failed. And because of the girl's medical condition, drugging her was not an option. They would have to resort to other methods, more direct and more crude, to bring her in.

Mollified, Lucinda gazed at him, her eyes softening, responding to what she sensed was his genuine concern, although any budding trust between them had been broken. "It's okay….." she breathed out on a shaky sigh. She managed a tremulous smile, feeling compelled to be civil because of his apology. "I'm just having a really bad day, that's all…" Her chin lifted determinedly. What had just begun was over now, he had ruined it. She was not about to go back and sit with him, to fall into his trap, no matter how nice he was on the surface. "I'll just be going now….." she told him firmly. "But thank you again…."

It was a polite leave-taking, but apparently Michael had no intention of letting her go. His hand still held her tightly by the arm, and when she tried to move away, he pulled her back by his side. She struggled, glaring up at him, wide-eyed. He stared down into her face, his eyes suddenly blank and unreadable. His grip tightened painfully.

"Ow!" she yelped in panic. "Let me go! You're hurting me!" Lucinda squirmed desperately, trying to get free from him.

The tone of his voice made her stop cold, freezing to the spot. The coldness in his voice was even more chilling than the fear that suddenly clutched her heart. "I'm sorry," he apologized again. "But you'll have to come with us…"

"Us?" Lucinda choked out. She looked up then, to see a familiar figure approaching her from the other side. It was the boy who had come on to her in the bar earlier. He appeared sober now, his face grim. Michael nodded at him, and the young man nodded back, as if following orders. Before she could recover from this shock, the boy stepped close to her and grabbed her other arm. Together, the men marched their captive toward the door.

Wild-eyed, Lucinda struggled between them but was no match for their combined strength. Her feeble cries for help went unheeded in the cacophony of loud music, and no one noticed her departure, except for one disgruntled friend of hers on the dance floor.

Woozy with drink, the girl sneered to herself as Lucinda left with her two handsome escorts. "Lucky bitch," her friend murmured under her breath, and then went back to dancing through the night.

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

In the Section van parked outside the bar, Brian waited nervously for Michael's team to return with the target. He had his medical kit with him by his side, but doubted it would be of much use. Multiple Sclerosis was a disease that the medical establishment as yet had developed no cure for, and not many treatments, either. It primarily struck young people, in their twenties and thirties, and was basically a disease of the auto-immune system. The patient's body would attack it's own nervous system, but in a capricious, somewhat unpredictable manner, so that the symptoms could vary from anything to Alzheimer like mental confusion, to muscle tremors, to complete paralysis.

Brian had been given very little information about the target on the ride out to retrieve the girl. Michael had only told him her name, the fact that she was young, just twenty-one, and that she had been diagnosed with MS three years ago. Beyond that, the doctor knew nothing about this incoming patient. With that amount of time for the disease to progress, Lucinda Deveraux could be at any stage in the disease process by now. She could be anywhere from being fine to being totally disabled.

Brian grimaced; if she were weak and debilitated by her disease, it seemed an infinitely cruel thing to do to force her into helping Section this way. Conversely, if she were fine, it seemed a crummy thing to do to her now, for Section to steal what good time she had at the moment to use her for their own ends. Either way, Lucinda was going to be suffering; Brian dreaded his upcoming part in adding to her pain.

Brian sighed and shifted anxiously in his seat. It seemed like Michael and the other operative, David, had been gone a long time. Brian was alone in the van, except for Birkoff. The young computer genius had spent the time since Michael's team had left with his eyes glued to his monitor, so that essentially Brian had been alone with his own thoughts.

He had just about decided to give up waiting and lean his head back on the seat cushion, close his eyes, and escape into a quick nap, when the door to the van opened suddenly and the retrieval team appeared, dragging the target between them.

Brian spared only a quick glance at Michael to check if he was all right, and then he was on his feet, his total attention concentrated on Lucinda. She was pale and wide-eyed, breathless from crying, and quite terrified. Michael and David held her trapped between them, her arms gripped so tightly on either side that she couldn't even struggle.

Brian's tender heart wrenched in pity. She was so young, and so pretty. She seemed too small and vulnerable, her shoulders too slight, to bear the burdens she had been forced to carry- that of her disease, and now this kidnapping by Section.

Michael nodded to David over Lucinda's head, indicating to the other operative to let the target go. The younger man released her, and reached back to shut the door behind them, then took his place at a seat near Birkoff on the far side of the van. The computer wizard ignored the commotion, treating it as if kidnapping people off the street was something he had done since childhood, which, for him, was indeed the case.

Michael gave the order for them to return to Section, and the van started up. That part of the mission business out of the way, Michael returned his focus to Lucinda, who stood trembling in his grip, afraid to move forward because the tall, curly-haired man staring at her with such focused intensity seemed more frightening than Michael did.

Michael took a step closer, and Lucinda was forced reluctantly to do the same. "This is Dr. Whicker," Michael explained gently to the terrified girl. "He's going to examine you…" He leaned his head down to whisper in her ear, his grip tightening painfully on her wrist in a warning gesture. "Please co-operate," he told her with chilling politeness.

Lucinda whimpered, and turned her head away. Brian could see her shaking with fear. She went a few shades paler than before.

The young doctor closed his eyes, and swore under his breath. "Jesus, Michael, just frighten her into a stroke or something," he thought in despair. "Make my job impossible, why don't you…."

Michael pushed Lucinda forward to sit on the narrow seat, then he turned to stand near the door at the other end of the van, facing Birkoff and David, his back to Brian and his patient, shielding them from view. Brian realized Michael was giving him and Lucinda as much privacy as he could in the cramped quarters of the Section vehicle, and for that Brian was truly grateful. This examination was already difficult enough, for both of them. Brian was almost as dismayed by this arrangement as Lucinda was.

The girl cowered back from him, hitching as far back into the seat as she could go. She stared up at him with wide, tear-filled brown eyes, still terrified.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded tremulously. "Who are you?" she cried, focusing on Brian. From the obvious way in which Michael had treated this blue-eyed stranger with such respect and deference, Lucinda had to assume that this man was the reason she had been brought here, the mastermind behind tonight's terrifying events. She needed answers. "What do you want with me?" she sobbed out, her heart pounding so fast that Brian could see the pulse fluttering rapidly in her slender throat.

Brian stifled a groan. He could hardly explain something to his patient that he didn't understand himself, but he had to try. He also had to explain it in a way that would not agitate his patient further. He crouched down on his haunches, bringing his eyes level with hers, so that his height would not be so intimidating, and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"We're not going to hurt you," he told her gently. "Our … organization needs you for.. uh… a project," Brian stammered, trying to be careful not to reveal too much. "After you give us the help we need, we'll let you go, okay?"

Lucinda's cinnamon brown eyes widened further, and she took in a deep breath, startled. "A project?" She gasped. "What kind of project?" She blinked at him, and then cringed back from him again.

Brian sighed, and closed his eyes. He decided the truth was his only option. He was just as clueless about why Section wanted Lucinda brought in as she was, and making up some plausible story to deceive her with was beyond him at this moment.

"I don't know," he confessed gruffly, feeling foolish. "It's top secret," he explained with a shake of his head. "They haven't told us yet…"

Lucinda let out a sharp breath at this intel, but seemed to relax her tense pose slightly, leaning forward as her curiosity for that second overcame her fear.

"Top secret?" she echoed, eyes going wide. "Just what kind of organization do you work for?"

Brian opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped as his eyes caught movement behind him. Michael had turned to face him and was giving Brian a warning glance and a swift shake of the head. This non-verbal message was clear- Brian was to tell Lucinda nothing about Section and get on with his task of examining the patient.

"The kind of organization that I'm not allowed to talk about," Brian hedged ruefully. He gave Lucinda another reassuring smile and began again. "Look, Miss Deveraux, I'm a medical doctor…." He explained gently. "I've been assigned to assess and monitor your condition while you're helping us, and to do that, I have to check you out now, is that okay?" Innocent blue eyes gazed pleadingly into hers.

Lucinda stared at him, somewhat taken aback. So far, this doctor was the only one among all the kidnappers she had met this evening who had been honest with her, the only one who had actually given her a choice. And since he HAD asked, she felt she had the option to answer just as honestly.

"No, it's NOT okay!" she replied, voice rising in an angry protest. "I've been pawed and man-handled quite enough for one night, thank you…" she spat out. "You can leave me the hell alone!"

She shot an angry glare toward Michael and David; the latter operative tried to look as if he hadn't heard this remark, but his tell-tale blush gave him away. Michael, on the other hand, seemed pleased at this show of spirit. A small smile of amused pride lifted the corner of his sensuous lips.

Brian caught Michael's look, and worked hard to stifle his own grin. Lucinda might prove to be handful. And that meant that Madeleine just might be in for a big surprise. This idea made him want to smile even more.

"All right, then," Brian gave in with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He rose to his feet and made a showing of shoving his medical kit out of the way onto a shelf behind him. He dusted off his hands, as if saying good riddance to his equipment. He nodded at his patient. "We're done."

Lucinda blinked at him, confused and uncertain. But it was Michael who was even more disconcerted by this remark than Lucinda was. He took a step toward the doctor and raised his eyebrow, looking at his friend quizzically. "Brian," he said warningly, "Madeleine expects a report. You have to complete your examination…."

The look the young doctor gave him was as defiant as Lucinda's had been just a few moments before. "I HAVE completed it," Brian told him, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring back. "A physical exam won't tell me anything I don't already know…." He waved one hand toward the patient. "It's obvious her mental sharpness hasn't been compromised by the disease, and since she made an effort to fight you, I can assume her motor skills aren't diminished either…."

Michael stared at him silently, so serious and solemn that Brian couldn't resist his next quip. "But I could have her haul off and slap you hard upside the head, though," the doctor told him, grinning slyly, "Just to make sure…."

Michael's lower lip quivered, and he bit it hard, to keep from laughing. "That won't be necessary," he choked out, coughing to hide his merriment.

Brian grinned, and from the back of the van, he heard Birkoff snicker, and David chuckle with amusement, even though they had made a pretense of not listening. Only Lucinda did not smile, still uneasy and unsettled by this sudden change of mood in her captors.

"What happens now?" she asked meekly, her fear returning. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, frightened eyes searching from one abductor to the next. Brian, of course, was the first one to comfort her in her distress.

He sat down beside her on the bench, and gently took her hand. She did not resist, but held on tight to his fingers in return, as if drawing strength from this touch. Brian gazed into her eyes.

"Everything will be okay," he assured her softly. "Tomorrow there will be a meeting where everything will be explained to you, but for right now, we're done…." He patted her hand firmly. "You'll be taken to your quarters to rest, and no one will bother you anymore tonight, I promise…."

Brian looked up then at Michael to gage his reaction to this proposal. To his relief, Michael nodded in silent assent. If it was Brian's professional opinion that their target should be handled gently, then Michael would back up that assessment with Madeleine. She had asked for Brian's input, after all.

Lucinda sighed shakily in relief and turned grateful eyes to Brian. "Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, in a small, high voice. "You won't leave me alone with them, will you?" she pleaded, sending wary glances to Michael and David. The implication of her words was clear; Brian had won Lucinda's complete trust.

Watching this display of finesse in silent admiration, Michael couldn't help but be struck anew with Brian's way with people, his infinite and perceptive kindness, his gentleness. Michael was impressed by how quickly the sweet -souled, compassionate doctor had calmed and soothed the terrified target, gaining her co-operation in a way that Section's brutal approach never could. His heart wrenched; if only he and Brian could still be close, could still be friends…

Brian glanced at Michael again, trustingly seeking approval. Michael nodded slowly once more. Permission requested and now obtained, Brian turned to Lucinda and answered with confidence.

"I'll be with you every step of the way," he assured her. "Whenever you need me…"

The girl sighed in relief at this answer, and settled in her seat to endure the rest of the ride with her protector by her side. She held Brian's hand tightly all the way, as if he were the only thing standing between her and the utter destruction that she sensed loomed ahead.

None of them knew then that she was absolutely right……

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

Madeleine smiled and looked up from her desk as the team members arrived for the briefing. She was having this meeting in her office instead of out in the open as usual at the briefing room, and, also against protocol, she had delayed revealing the purpose of the mission until after the target had been retrieved. The delicate nature of this assignment warranted all her precautions. She smiled slyly as Michael and David filed into the room, followed by Brian and Lucinda. She knew none of them were going to like what they heard.

"Please sit down," she invited, addressing Lucinda alone. The girl, dressed now in jeans and a t-shirt, smiled back at her nervously and took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Brian stepped forward to stand protectively behind her, watching Madeleine warily, while Michael and David, both grim-faced, took stances on Brian's left.

The meeting began.

Madeleine focused her attention first on the new captive. "I trust you had a good night's rest, Miss Deveraux?" This comment was a slight dig at Brian, who had spent several anxious minutes in Madeleine's office last night after the team arrived, explaining that stress could trigger a relapse in his patient, and that the girl should be left alone for the evening. In other words, he had told Madeleine to lay the hell off. Madeleine had eventually agreed, but not before she had made the young doctor sweat a bit about her decision.

"Yes, thank you," Lucinda answered meekly, shifting nervously in her chair. This pretty, sweet-voiced lady seemed pleasant, but somehow, Lucinda sensed an aura of danger about her. Or maybe she was just picking up the scent of Brian's fear and mistrust for this Madeleine. Whatever it was, she was definitely anxious, despite having been treated well since Brian had taken over watching over her. This strange bizarre underworld she found herself in gave her the creeps.

Madeleine folded her hands primly in front of her on the desk and smiled wider. "I apologize for disrupting your life this way, Miss Deveraux, but as Dr. Whicker told you, we need your help…"

The young girl shook her head, the long curls brushing her shoulders. The brown eyes widened. "I still don't understand," she said slowly, a frown creasing her perfect brow. "I don't see what you need me for…"

I'll explain," Madeleine assured her firmly. She switched on her monitor and then turned the screen so that all of her visitors could see it. The image displayed was that of a young man, dressed in a double-breasted suit and a large-brimmed hat, circa the mid 1940's. Slender and solemn, the young man stared gravely back at them from the black-and white photograph.

"This is the most current image we have of Aaron Oliver," Madeleine went on. "One of the most notorious terrorists in the West."

Michael looked up, startled. "I thought he was dead," he commented grimly, lifting one eyebrow. "There were rumors that he had cancer last year…."

Madeleine interrupted him with a shake of her head. "The rumors are false," she stated baldly. "Oliver is more active than ever. We believe he was behind the embassy bombings this past Spring, and that he is planning more attacks on government targets for the coming months…"

She sighed heavily. "He intends to blow up the U.N.," she announced wearily. "He has to be stopped."

"How do we get to him?" David asked tightly, speaking for the first time.

"We couldn't, until now…' Madeleine replied, casting a smiling glance toward Lucinda. "Oliver has lived an extremely reclusive life," she expounded further. "He's wealthy, paranoid, and has eccentric habits, and bizarre beliefs..…."

"Sort of like Howard Hughes…" Brian burst out, eyes widening.

Madeleine nodded, smiling approvingly. "Yes, exactly," she answered. "He's gone so far underground that no one has seen him for years, or knows where his compound is located. The only opening we have to work with is this woman…." The Section strategist went on, clicking a button to change the image on the screen.

Lucinda leaned forward toward monitor, and gasped, not believing what she was seeing. The screen showed a picture of herself- same deep brown eyes, same hair, same face. It was like looking in a mirror. Except that Lucinda had never worn such a low cut dress before, or that much make-up, as the double on the screen….

"That's not me…" she gasped in protest.

"No, it's not," Madeleine agreed gently. "This is Mariette Oliver, Aaron Oliver's fifth and current wife.." She paused delicately, and licked her lips. "Mrs. Oliver was recently our guest here," Madeleine phrased carefully, "But she met with an unfortunate accident before she could assist us…."

"She's dead," Brian grunted bluntly, not liking where this was going. He glared at Madeleine fiercely, and took another protective step closer to Lucinda.

"Her death was not our fault," Madeleine defended herself, responding to the tone of blame in Brian's voice. "The girl was a drug-addict, and had already taken a fatal overdose before we could extract what little we got from her…."

"Christ," Brian swore in disgust.

Lucinda listened, appalled. She was too scared to speak. Things were much darker than they appeared, and her stomach did cartwheels in protest. She hardly dared speculate where all of this was going….

"Did we get a location from her?" Michael inquired in a business-like tone, cutting right to the point.

Madeleine paused, and then answered evasively, "Of a sort," she told them vaguely. "Oliver's marriage to Mariette is not what you would call a conventional one…" She swiveled in her chair and tapped her chin with one well-manicured finger. "They don't share a household together….." she paused again. "In fact, they haven't actually ever met…."

Brian shook his head, bewildered. "What?" the young doctor asked, shocked. "What kind of marriage is that?" he choked out, aghast.

The chief strategist smiled. "An unconventional one, to say the least," she drawled in a dry tone. "They were married by proxy two years ago. Oliver selected her from a list of women his underlings culled for him from the internet. Oliver is too paranoid about security to allow Mariette to know his whereabouts, and yet he is conventional enough to want to take his sexual gratification through marriage alone, not casual partners…."

"I don't get it," David piped up. "How can this old dude have sex with his wife if he's never met her?" The handsome young operative shook his head. "That doesn't make sense…"

Madeleine tilted her head and smiled. "Vicariously, of course," she answered matter-of factly. "Mariette ..performs for her husband with assorted boyfriends on video tape, and mails the tapes to a post office box address, an address which we now have under surveillance….." The velvet brown eyes turned to rest deliberately on Lucinda.

A chill went up Michael's spine, and he shivered involuntarily. He knew what was coming next. It was a Valentine mission out of his worst nightmare. He turned his head and his eyes locked with Brian's. He could tell that the young doctor was thinking the same thing. Brian's jaw was clenched hard, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. He seemed about to explode with fury.

Michael gave him a warning glare, and a small shake of the head. Brian glared back, and then acknowledged this cautionary message with the slightest of nods. He would remain calm and listen, but only for a little while longer. Then, Michael or no, he was going to keep Lucinda safe from Madeleine, if he had to kill the bitch to do it.

As for Lucinda, she was slumped in her chair in a state of shock. She was too numb to respond, too unnerved to speak. She sat motionless and pale as Madeleine's polite voice went on, each word like a nail in her coffin.

"With Mariette dead, we had no way to use this opportunity," the lovely brunette continued sweetly. "But now, with you here, My Dear, we have a chance to bring Oliver down…"

Lucinda at last found her voice. "What do you want me to do?" she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still factoring in what Madeleine had told her, and she wasn't quite ready to accept what she had been hearing. Her mind was too much in shock to take it all in. She was hoping the answer would not be what she expected.

But it was.

"We need you to make a video- to become Mariette, just for this once..…." Madeleine replied gently. "Then we can mark the tape with an electronic signature-When Oliver views the video, and we're almost one hundred percent sure no one else would do that but him- it will trigger the tracking devices installed in it and we'll have him…."

David, who was usually used by Section as a Valentine operative, nodded in understanding, and asked a professional question. "So that's why you wanted me at this meeting," he mused, this puzzle becoming clear. He eyed Lucinda speculatively, and licked his lips greedily. "I suppose you want me and the little bird here to get it on, then?"

With a confident, vain smile, David reached forward, and caressed a strand of Lucinda's wavy hair, his fingers groping underneath the thick mass of curls to fondle the back of her neck. Lucinda shuddered violently and closed her eyes. Encouraged, David leaned closer, his lips brushing the girl's temple. "Sounds fine to me…" he grunted huskily.

Before Michael or Brian could shove David away from Lucinda, she did it for them. She leapt from her seat, and pushed the handsome young man who was mauling her firmly in the chest with the heel of her hand. David staggered back only a step or two, glaring at her angrily. "Hey!" he shouted in protest, unhurt except for his vanity. "What gives?"

Panting wildly, her bosom heaving, brown eyes flashing fire, Lucinda screamed at him. "Don't touch me!" she yelled, voice full of disgust. "I hate you! You make my skin crawl! I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on earth!"

Michael stifled a small smile of admiration for this display of spirit, even though the situation was not at all amusing to him. He folded his hands in front of him and didn't interfere; it looked like Lucinda was quite capable, for now, of holding her own with David.

Brian, however, saw it differently. He stepped in between the girl and her would-be suitor, hands on hips, glaring down at the young operative. "Back off, Bozo, before I make you wish you had!" he spat out.

Madeleine smirked, amused, and then held up her hand. "That's enough, Doctor," she cautioned Brian, then she calmly waved David away. "You can go," she dismissed him nonchalantly. "It seems your services won't be needed on this mission after all…."

David let out a huff of breath, and then stalked indignantly to the door, eyes flashing. What was wrong with that chick, anyway? He thought angrily. Obviously she didn't know what she was missing…

Madeleine barely registered David's departure, but Lucinda did. She let out a huge sigh of relief and stood trembling apprehensively as the Section strategist went on with her orders. "If David isn't to your taste, Miss Devereaux," the older woman offered politely, "I'm sure we can provide you with other partners who would please you more…"

Lucinda blinked. "Partners?" she asked, startled at the use of the plural. Her stomach clenched painfully with apprehension.

Madeleine nodded. "Mariette usually provided her husband with scenes of herself with at least two different men on each tape," she went on in a polite conversational tone, as if they were discussing the weather, or some other boring topic, and not this bizarre arrangement. She tilted her head and smiled at the bewildered young girl.

"We have a variety of attractive males here in Section for you to choose from," Madeleine went on smoothly, as if she were making a well-practiced sales pitch. "I'm sure you'll find a few among them to your liking….."

Brian was frozen in disgust; all he could do was shake his head. Michael watched warily in silence, the only thing betraying his distress was the tense, haunted look in his eyes. Madeleine often played the Madam, but he had never seen it done so blatantly as this.

He turned his head to gaze at the young girl, trying to gage what her reaction to this proposal would be. He anticipated a vehemently phrased refusal to be whored out for Section's greater good. Lucinda seemed to have too much self-respect to be used this way, no matter what the reason. Brian tensed, waiting.

Her response was nothing like what he expected.

Lucinda stood panting, her eyes wide. A hunted, trapped look crossed her face, and then she swallowed hard and lifted her chin, as if making a decision. She raised her hand and pointed a shaking finger in Michael and Brian's direction.

"Them!" she cried out, voice high and tremulous. "I want THEM…."

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

Michael paled and stiffened, feeling like he had just received a blow to the stomach. This was not what he had anticipated, either. He was stunned; he had had the impression that Lucinda had found him as revolting as she had David, relegating him into the category of predatory males she wanted nothing to do with. He was astonished that she had chosen him now to be part of such a difficult, intimate mission. Michael understood why she had selected Brian, of course- In the terrifying surroundings Lucinda had found herself in, it was only natural that she should become attached to the one person who had treated her with kindness, the one person she trusted here.

My God, thought Michael, his heart sinking. How could she know Brian was the one person in Section the least likely to be able to fulfil this mission? After all he had been through, with the drugs, the conditioning, the manipulations, and his own natural abhorrence of using others and being used, Brian would be devastated by this scenario. Lucinda was not the only one who could end up destroyed by this mission.

Michael trembled and put a hand over his eyes. His stomach lurched again painfully. What made it even more sickening to him was that Brian would have to endure watching Michael use and rape yet another innocent, just like he had used and raped Brian himself…

There, he had faced it. The guilt that ate away at him like acid. Although he knew intellectually that he had had no control, that he had been influenced by the drugs and conditioning as much as Brian had, still, Michael felt responsible for what had happened between them. HE was the older one, the one with more experience in Section, the brother that Brian looked up to and trusted. And Michael had betrayed that trust by insistently forcing himself on Brian that night, pushing for an encounter he knew they had both wanted only because of the drugs…

No, Michael stopped himself. If he was going to be honest, if he was truly going to face things right now, at this moment, he had to finally admit the truth. Deep down, he had wanted Brian. He always had. The drugs had just released the heavy inhibitions he had placed around this desire. Their love-making had been an unexplored side of their relationship, but one that was likely inevitable. The bond between them was just too strong. It was just cruel fate that their joining had been prematurely forced by Section, and instead of being the beautiful, gradual flowering that it should have been, the experience had been shatteringly painful and ugly for them both. Michael didn't know if they would ever be able to heal from it, but he knew that this new mission would do nothing to further that healing; it could only bring more destruction- for all of them, himself, Brian, and Lucinda as well. He was startled again out of his dark thoughts by a strangled gasp behind him.

"Jesus, no…' Brian choked out. Michael turned to meet his friend's eyes, and was horrified to see that Brian had gone deathly white and was swaying on his feet. Stricken and shocked, he looked like he might pass out. Instinctively, Michael reached for him, clutching him firmly by the arm to steady him.

The young doctor flinched back at his touch. "Michael, no, we c-can't…" Brian protested, turning away from his friend to stare pleading at Madeleine. "Please….." he begged hoarsely. "Please don't make us do this…"

Madeleine eyed him sternly. "You can, and you WILL," she ordered firmly, letting out a deep breath. She turned back to Lucinda, who was still cowering in front of the desk, looking as terrified and stricken as Brian did. She had made her decision, but now her courage was deserting her. Madeleine had to move quickly, before the young girl had a chance to change her mind.

"Very well, then, we'll get started," Madeleine said in a business-like tone, ignoring the doctor's protests and Michael and Lucinda's ravaged faces. She continued pleasantly, as if nothing was wrong. "I'll have Technical work on modifying the video tapes to be used, and in the meantime, My dear, you should prepare yourself by reviewing Mariette's past performances on video with Michael…."

She smiled slyly at the green-eyed operative. "I'm sure he can help coach you on techniques…."

Lucinda bit her lip nervously and stared anxiously at Madeleine, unable to look the men in the eye. "I-I don't know…" she stammered uncertainly, her terror at being alone with Michael evident.

Madeleine directed the girl smoothly, her voice low and soothing. "You can use the Level Seven lounge; you'll be more comfortable there…" she assured her prisoner. "Don't be afraid; Michael's only task will be to see that you become more.. comfortable with him, before the actual taping begins, that's all…"

The girl nodded, and then looked longingly at Brian, as if he were her only life line in a raging, storm-tossed sea. "When…?" she began haltingly.

"Dr. Whicker will join you later," Madeleine answered, interpreting the girl's anxiety about being separated from her protector. "For now, just concentrate on one partner at a time, hmm?"

Lucinda blushed, and stared at the floor, feeling too embarrassed and awkward to speak. She only nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement of this arrangement.

"Go on, then," Madeleine encouraged them. "There's not much time…."

Michael closed his eyes and nodded in defeat. Then he extended his arm to Lucinda to escort her out of the room. She laid her hand tentatively on his forearm and the two began walking to the door. When they came abreast of Brian, who had been standing there, too shocked to speak, the horrified young doctor at last found his voice.

"Michael, for the love of God, please, don't do this…" he choked out in a ravaged whisper. "Please…."

Michael flinched as if struck. He met Brian's haunted blue eyes, and knew that he must be remembering the last time they had been together, when Michael had taken advantage of him- he was remembering, and hoping to spare Lucinda the same fate…..

God, how he must despise me, Michael thought wrenchingly. God, how I despise myself….. He said the only words he knew to say, although he knew they were, and could never be, enough, no matter how often or how sincerely he said them.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered. "I'm so sorry…" Then he turned away, toward the door again, walking quickly with Lucinda beside him, so that he couldn't see Brian's hot and bitter tears….

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

They made their way in grim silence to Level Seven; Michael unlocked the door to the luxurious lounge and then carefully shut and locked it again behind them. Lucinda jumped, and shot him a nervous look, looking as if she were ready to bolt. Michael tried to put her at ease by smiling at her and wandering nonchalantly off into the well-appointed kitchen. "May I offer you a drink?" he said politely, opening cupboards. "Wine? Coffee? Tea?"

Lucinda cleared her throat. "Soda is good, if you have it," she answered meekly.

The Level Five operative nodded his auburn head. "Of course," he responded, making a show of absorbing himself in his domestic task so that the girl would have a chance to adjust to her surroundings. As he fiddled with ice-cubes and glasses, out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed how Lucinda roamed the room, touching an ornament here, stroking the binding of a book there, until she at last settled in one of the large, over-stuffed chairs by the fireplace in the living area.

He crossed the room slowly and held out her drink to her, then settled in the chair opposite with his own glass of wine. Both of them, studiously, and unconsciously, had avoided sitting together on the deep, comfortable, bed-like couch.

Lucinda gulped down a few swallows of her soda gratefully; she couldn't recall at time when her throat had been more dry-- not from thirst, but from nervousness.

Michael took a sip of his wine and made a pretense of relaxing in his chair, but both of them were tense, nerves strung tight. A long silence ensued, until Lucinda could stand it no longer, and burst out with an anxious question.

"You're angry at me, aren't you?" she gasped miserably, her lower lip trembling. "Because I picked you…."

Michael blinked in surprise, not expecting this comment. He gave her question some thought before he answered, tilting his head contemplatively. "No, I'm not angry," he told her softly. It was the truth. The only person he was angry with was himself. "But I am puzzled, though," he went on, taking another casual sip of wine. "Why did you agree to Madeleine's proposal, if you are as uncomfortable with the idea as you appear to be?"

Lucinda blinked at him, and then surprised him again by laughing ruefully and shaking her head. "You mean, I had a CHOICE?" she asked dryly, gesturing with one hand. "I got the distinct impression that saying no was NOT an option. That smooth-talking bitch, excuse my French, wouldn't have let me just walk out of here and go home, now would she?" the girl demanded rhetorically.

Michael smiled involuntarily to himself. Lucinda's term for Madeleine reminded him so much of Brian. The two had a way of cutting to the heart of the matter, of being honest. Michael felt suddenly obligated now to be honest in return.

"No, she wouldn't have," he told her truthfully. "Madeleine is very determined- she usually gets what she wants…."

Lucinda grimaced. "Yeah, I caught that…." She agreed glumly, and took another sip of her Coke. "I figured she would make me do this anyway, only with some real loser type, like that creep David…" The girl shuddered.

"I see…." said Michael slowly. He leaned forward in his chair, his green eyes attentively focused on her face. "May I ask another question?" he requested intently.

Lucinda tilted her head at him, and then shrugged. "Sure, go ahead…" she told him, obviously losing her fear of him as each moment of this heart-to heart conversation went by.

"Why did you pick me to be your lover?" he asked bluntly. "Brian, I understand…" he expounded thoughtfully. "You trust him; he was kind to you. But me…" He shook his head. "You have no reason to trust me. I thought you didn't like me, anymore than you like David.…"

The girl blushed bright red and lowered her head, the curtain of thick curls swinging forward to provide a shelter for her to hide behind. She twisted her hands nervously in her lap and then let out a little gasp, looking guilty. "It's not what you think…" she told him in low, tremulous voice. "Really, it isn't…."

The handsome operative leaned back in his chair, fascinated, and despite himself, somewhat enchanted. This girl was at once wise and innocent, worldly and at the same time child-like. Intrigued, he waited anxiously for her response.

And what is it that I think?" he prompted her gently, after a long embarrassed silence.

The brown eyes lifted to meet his green. "You think I chose you because you're b-beautiful," she choked out timidly, leaning forward. She shook her head. "But that's not why…."

"It wasn't just your looks, I swear," the girl went on, when Michael stayed silent, too stunned to respond. She shifted tensely in her chair. "Hell, that David creep was pretty nice looking, too, on just a purely physical level, but you have a beauty that goes way beyond that, you have something… something else I needed, something else I responded to…" she stammered, groping for the words. "Something I… wanted…."

Michael's eyes widened. "Like what?" he demanded, mesmerized and curious.

The brown eyes fluttered up and locked with his. "Like… Love…." She whispered. "Love…."

Michael flinched. He was the last person, in his own estimation, to be associated with that word, that quality. He didn't know what love was anymore. Hadn't he hurt everyone he ever cared about? Hadn't he ruined all their lives- Elena's, Simone's, Nikita's, and Brian's- and now this trusting young girl's?

My God, he thought to himself, anguished. How could Lucinda trust him like this? Hadn't he raped Brian?

"Love?" Michael choked out. "I don't understand …" Nothing could have been more true.

Lucinda sighed and shook her head. "I suppose I'm not explaining this very well…." She said, somewhat shyly. She shoved back a stray lock of thick hair and then leaned toward him eagerly.

"You see, that David guy, he's the type that could only love himself…" She lowered her eyes and bit her lip nervously. "He would treat me like a piece of meat, just a body to be used, not a person--- " She looked up at him again, eyes wide and pleading. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Michael nodded. "Yes…." He answered softly, recalling all the Valentine missions where he had used his body to entrap targets, had seduced women, slept with them, without any real feeling or emotional connection to these casual lovers. "I do…."

"But you're different than him," Lucinda went on, warming to her theme as she sensed Michael's keen interest, listening avidly. "You understand.. love…." The brown eyes flickered up to meet his. "I don't know, maybe love was the wrong word--- maybe I should have said compassion, or sensitivity, or respect…." She shook her head again. "Anyway, I could tell you would be like that, that you would be gentle, that you wouldn't… hurt me…." The girl's voice choked on the last word, and she looked away, blinking back tears.

Michael let out a shaky breath. He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't want to lie to her either. She obviously saw in him qualities that were not there; after the way he had treated Brian, Michael felt obligated to warn her about himself, this young girl whom he saw as yet another one in a long line of his innocent victims.

"I wouldn't intend to hurt you, no…" Michael said carefully, a frown settling on his handsome face. "But I'm not a very nice person, Lucinda…." He confessed roughly, looking up to meet her wide brown eyes. "I've done unspeakable things to people I care about- I've ..hurt them…." His voice broke, and he looked away, green eyes glittering with harsh tears. "You'd be better off not expecting too much from me…."

To his surprise, Lucinda did not react the way he thought she would. Instead of cowering back in fear, or withdrawing from him in wariness, the girl stood up from her chair and moved closer, to stand by his side, looking down at him. Then she startled him once more by giving a delighted laugh, her dimple showing, as she teasingly shook her head.

"Liar," she told him warmly. "You ARE nice, and kind, and loving…" She leaned closer, her face just inches from his. "I know it…" she whispered huskily, then, very softly, she kissed him.

Michael gave a little gasp of shock, his lips parting in surprise. The kiss deepened; it was not an assault, but a gentle, sweet caress, one of the most tender he had ever known. Lucinda's soft, warm mouth moved over his, as if imparting to him all the adoration, regard, and respect that he had none of for himself. The kiss was a sacrament, a blessing bestowed upon him by a saintly priestess, an angel, a gift at once healing and humbling. At first, Michael just submitted, too overcome to respond other than by relaxing and surrendering his mouth to hers. Then, slowly, his joy building, he felt the overwhelming need to love her back, to return her wondrous gift…

With a soft groan, Michael reached his strong arms up around her and pulled her onto his lap. With one hand, he took Lucinda's chin in his palm and held her still, so that he could drink more deeply of her sweetness. The girl showed no fear, but cuddled closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back enthusiastically. After a few more rapturous moments, Michael, honored by her trust, and mindful of her vulnerability, reluctantly but carefully, broke the kiss.

Lucinda, still caught in his magic spell, blinked at him, dreamy-eyed.

Michael leaned impulsively forward, moved to tenderness, and gently took Lucinda's hand in his. " I promise," he told her huskily, "I would never hurt you…" He meant it. A fierce surge of protectiveness, of warmth welled up inside his heart for this beautiful and sensitive young girl.

She turned her face to him and smiled tremulously, the little dimple appearing briefly at the side of her mouth. "See, I knew that…." She told him with equal tenderness, affection shining in her eyes.

"How?" Michael asked quietly, puzzled anew by her almost telepathic perceptions. "How could you know that?" He shook his head. "Why do you trust me?"

The girl let out a little giggle, and then reached up her hand to gently stroke his cheek. "I'm not clairvoyant or anything," she whispered teasingly. Her brown eyes twinkled merrily. "I know…. because of Brian…." She confessed softly.

Michael tensed, his eyes going wide. "Brian?" he choked out, his blood running cold. "What about Brian?"

"Last night," Lucinda began, snuggling closer on Michael's lap, "I was pretty scared and upset, and Brian stayed with me in my quarters til I was settled in for the night…" She kissed Michael quickly on the temple, a swift, enchanting, affectionate kiss. "He told me all about you…."

Michael took in a harsh, ragged breath. "What do you mean?" he choked out anxiously. "What did he tell you?"

Lucinda shrugged, still smiling. She didn't seem to notice Michael's tense apprehension, or if she did, she didn't show it. "You see, then I was still pretty scared of you," she told him apologetically. "You were rather intimidating…."

Michael grimaced guiltily. "I'm sorry…" he said huskily. "Sometimes I hate the job, but I still have to do it…."

"I know…" she assured him with her brilliant smile. "Brian explained that to me. He also said you were basically a very gentle, kind person, and that you had always been very caring and loving to him…."

Michael bit his lip hard and turned away, his stomach wrenching. How could Brian have lied to this child like that, how could he have praised him like that, after what Michael had done to him?

"He said you were his most cherished friend…" Lucinda concluded, "And that he loved you very much…." She smiled at him sweetly. "And then, you see, I wasn't afraid of you anymore…" She caressed his cheek once more, fingers trailing lovingly along his jaw. "I trust Brian, so, of course, now I trust YOU…."

Tormented, Michael could endure it no longer. With a little cry, he stood up, moving Lucinda firmly off his lap and depositing the rather startled girl back down in his chair. Then he walked the few steps to the fireplace, and, his back to her, gruffly confessed his sins into the mantel-piece.

"You shouldn't trust me," Michael gasped out, voice anguished. "Brian lied- I haven't been kind to him…" he said in a choked whisper. "I've hurt Brian most of all- I've done horrible things to him, unforgivable things…."

Behind him, Lucinda rose from her chair and came to stand beside him. He felt her soft, warm hand rest firmly on his back; she patted him soothingly.

"I don't get it…." Lucinda said softly. "What is with you guys, anyway?" she asked him, her voice light, and still unafraid. "Brian said the exact same thing about you…"

Michael flinched, his head coming up from where he had leaned it on the mantle. He turned swiftly, and without thinking, he grabbed the girl by the upper arms and pulled her close to him.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, upset and alarmed. "What did Brian say to you?" he choked out anxiously.

Lucinda's eyes widened in puzzlement; she wasn't apprehensive, just confused. What had she said that had set him off like that?

"I told you…." She answered him slowly and clearly. "Brian said that you were a fine person, and that basically he was feeling pretty miserable because he had betrayed you, or let you down, somehow…" She shook her head, frowning. "He said the same thing you did, that I shouldn't really trust him, because he wasn't worthy of it…"

Michael could only blink at her in shock. Stunned by this new information, his mind whirling, he unconsciously loosened his grip on his captive and the girl stepped back from him, placing her hands on her hips in a pose of exasperation.

The warm brown eyes met his steadily. "You're both wrong, you know," she told him sternly. "You and Brian-you're both kind, you're both to be trusted…" she shook her head and went on with her lecture. "You both care about each other. It's probably just some kind of misunderstanding between you…."

She stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his arm and then looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Please, Michael, you've got to work this thing out with Brian, because…." The girl bit her lip nervously, her voice changing from firm to tremulous, "Because I can't do this mission without you both…." Her voice rose higher, ending on a note of panic. "Please don't ask me to pick anyone else…." She begged, her eyes filling with tears. "Please…"

Michael impulsively gathered her in his arms to soothe her. "Shhh, it's okay…" he murmured into her hair, feeling her tremble against him. He wondered which one on them was more scared, more confused. For he found himself drawing comfort and strength from this embrace, even as much as he gave it.

She was right, Michael thought gravely. He had gone on too long trying to ignore the gaping wound that was his and Brian's relationship; he had to face things, he had to start healing. This rift was destroying them both, and on top of that, it was endangering others, like this innocent young girl.

Michael's resolve firmed; he would have it out with Brian, clear the air. Michael was determined to apologize. It was the least that Brian deserved. He didn't know why Brian hated himself so much now, but Michael suspected that the rape had been the cause of it. Michael had wounded the young doctor's soul, degraded his self-worth, soiled him with betrayal, to the point that Brian no longer felt worthy to be loved, even by this pretty, pure, young girl.

Michael cringed. He had to fix this. He had to. He had to repair the damage he had done.He held Lucinda tighter. "I'll talk to him- we'll work it out," he assured her, meaning every word of this vow. "We'll be here for you- we'll help you through this, I promise…"

Lucinda let out a little sigh of relief and clung to him, trembling in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder and closed her eyes, trying not to feel afraid. The ugliness of the mission that was facing her, temporarily forgotten in her discussion of Brian and Michael, was now coming back to her full force.

"I'm.. scared…." She murmured into his chest, her courage suddenly deserting her. She began to cry softly.

Gently, Michael stroked the long curls on the crown of her head and then kissed her brow. "Shh…" he soothed her. "Shh…." He began to tell her that everything would be all right, and then stopped himself, unwilling to tell any more lies, now that he had decided to confront the truth about things. He didn't know if Lucinda would come through this unscathed or undamaged; given the circumstances, he rather doubted it. The only thing he was sure of was that he was determined to do everything in his power to see that she survived the coming ordeal.

Impulsively, wanting to impart some of his courage to her, Michael leaned down and, lifting her face to his, gently kissed her once more.

The girl froze breathlessly in his embrace, startled, and then, still trembling, she molded herself to his lean form and drank deeply from the fountain of his strong lips. They had only just begun this exchange of succor and courage when they heard a key scrape in the lock, and the door was pushed slowly open.

"Michael?" a startled male voice asked.

The lovers jumped apart; Lucinda blushing furiously, Michael, staring blankly a the intruder in their midst.

"I'm sorry…." Whispered the visitor, running a nervous hand through dark curls and blushing himself. He stepped into the room reluctantly and then closed the door behind him again. His blue eyes glittered with diffident embarrassment and distress. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," he apologized shyly, staring at the floor. "But Madeleine ordered me to come…"

Michael came forward to grasp the visitor by the arm, and draw him further into the room. "It's okay, Brian…" he told his startled friend, smiling gently. "It's okay…."

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

Brian looked at Michael, surprised. The older man was smiling at him warmly, looking genuinely glad to see him. Brian hadn't seen that look on Michael's face for a long time. Not since before the last mission that had torn them apart. He had hardly expected to see it now, under these circumstances, with this company. The last thing Brian would have thought that Michael wanted was his intrusion in what had obviously been a very private moment between himself and Lucinda. Yet, here he was, holding Brian's arm and leading him forward into the room, as if Brian were an honored and long awaited guest, and not the unwelcome, unwanted intruder, that Brian considered himself to be.

Lucinda came forward as well, embarrassment forgotten, and took the young doctor by his other arm. Her eyes shone with warm affection and deep trust. "Are you okay?" she asked anxiously. "What's going on? Did Madeleine hurt you?"

Brian shook his head, a little overwhelmed by this attention. "I'm fine," he answered quickly, then gently pulled his arms free from both his escorts' embrace, and fished inside the pocket of his rumpled white lab coat. "She wanted me to bring you this…" he told them, holding up a small rectangular black box.

Michael sighed. "What is it?" he asked warily.

Brian grimaced. "A video-tape of Mariette and her … uh.. lovers…." The doctor answered, flushing red again. He shot Lucinda an uncomfortable look, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "We're all supposed to watch it together, and..uh.. study it for …. Uh… style, I guess…."

Michael nodded, and carefully took the tape from Brian's hand, handling the video gingerly between two fingers, as if it might soil him. "I see…" he said morosely, his sensuous mouth firming grimly.

Lucinda let out a little gasp, and then cringed back, staring at the video as if it were something foully radioactive that might contaminate her if she got too close. She swallowed hard, her eyes wide. "Do we have to?" she asked in a high, trembling voice. "I mean, couldn't we just… skip this part?"

Michael and Brian's eyes met, both exchanging a knowing look of sadness. "I'm afraid not," Michael told her gently. "If Madeleine ordered it…." He began in a soft tone.

Lucinda looked at Michael, then Brian, pleadingly. "Why don't you just describe Mariette's style to me?" she asked tentatively. "Wouldn't that be just as good?"

Brian's eyes widened. "Describe it?" he gasped, flushing with embarrassment. He stared at her, taken aback, made uncomfortable by the idea of discussing such intimate matters so openly.

Lucinda caught his meaning, and shook her head, anxious to correct him. "I didn't mean you should tell me each explicit sex act," she told him gently, blushing as well. "I mean, if it's Mariette's STYLE I'm supposed to copy, why not just tell me that?" Her eyes widened as she turned to Michael. "You know, was she passive? Aggressive? Tender? Reserved? Abandoned? Playful?" The girl bit her lip nervously. "Just tell me and I'll try to be like that…."

Michael shook his head, his eyes blank and shuttered. "I wish I could tell you, but I'm afraid none of us has seen the video yet," he told her gently. "You'll have to watch it with us…" he announced grimly. "We have no choice.."

"You can be sure the bitch will find a way to make us obey her," Brian added, equally grim. "And if we refuse….."

Lucinda bit her lip, then took a deep breath and let it out, gathering her courage. "All right then," she said tremulously, squaring her shoulders and trying to give them a brave smile. "I guess we watch it…."

Michael nodded, and walked gracefully over to the side of the room, where the television faced the luxurious couch. He popped the tape into the vcr and turned on the t.v., then walked slowly back to the couch and sat down. Brian and Lucinda reluctantly took their places on the couch beside him, the girl sitting between the two men.

With a wary look at each of them, as if checking to see if they were ready, Michael sighed and keyed the remote. The tape began to play.

It was horrible.

Michael flinched. As worldly and experienced as he was, this tape shocked even him. He had seen porn movies done with more class than this. His heart sank; there was no way the innocent Lucinda could be like this with him and Brian, and conversely, there was no way he and the gentle, tender-hearted Brian could be like this with HER. His hopes that the mission could be gotten through and completed successfully were dashed immediately. He hung his head and took a deep breath, stomach churning in fear.

Brian gasped in shock, stunned that someone who looked so much like the bright, good-hearted Lucinda sitting next to him could be so utterly different. Mariette's wanton nakedness he found to be offensive and non-erotic, her crudity a total turn-off. The love-making was not love-making at all, but some kind of animalistic ritual, debased of any trace of humanity. The doctor let out a soft moan of disgust, and buried his head in his hands.

Too depressed to stop it, the men let the tape play on. Lucinda watched, horror-struck, eyes open, unable to look away, frozen into unwilling immobility by the sheer monstrosity of this work of pure obscenity.

Her naive romantic hopes that Mariette might be tender or playfully affectionate with her lovers was dashed within the first two seconds. Oliver's wife had obviously become bored with her role of providing entertainment for her elderly spouse; she made no effort to even pretend that this performance for his pleasure gave her any joy. Mariette lay glassy-eyed and stoned on the bed, her skin, unlike Lucinda's, was not warm cream, but deathly, sickly white. Dark circles showed under eyes, and there were tell tale red track marks on her otherwise pale arms.

Mariette, having no doubt received an unlimited supply of money from her husband, had had no deterrents or checks placed on her drug habit. Though as beautiful as her counterpart Lucinda, this girl was like a body whose soul had departed long ago. She performed mechanically, callously, indifferently, brutally. The sex with her partners, one after the other, was as soulless as Mariette was herself. The video plainly presaged Mariette's ugly death; she was a zombie, a hollow shell; she was the living dead.

Mariette was, plain and simple, a whore.

At last, Lucinda found the ability to move, and she let out a little cry and jumped to her feet. "Turn it off!" she cried, anguished. "For God's sake, turn it off!"

Michael obeyed, gratefully clicking off the remote for her. He knew they had all seen more than enough.

Brian rose to his feet, intending to go to Lucinda to give her comfort. He was as shaken and disturbed by what he had seen as she was. "Lucinda…." He said gently, reaching out for her.

The girl cringed back from him, terrified. "No! Don't touch me!" she whimpered, backing away toward the door. She began to cry. "I can't do this!" she sobbed brokenly. "I can't be like.. like THAT…" she cried out, pointing at the now mercifully blank television screen. The girl's hand came to her mouth as she gagged visibly, her face going pale.

"Please…" she choked out, turning terrified brown eyes to Michael. "Please, just let me go home now.." she sobbed breathlessly. "Michael, please…."

Michael closed his eyes, feeling wretched. He agreed with her- he didn't believe she could do this. He didn't want her to. But the alternative- Lucinda's cancellation- was an even less palatable option. He shuddered. Was he going to have to rape her to save her life?

He stood, and went to join Brian and Lucinda by the door. The young doctor had stepped back from the panicked girl so as not to frighten her, and now stood awkwardly nearby, uncertain as to what to do to calm her down. He was obviously upset himself.

"Can she, Michael?" he begged, adding his pleas to Lucinda's. "Would they let her go home?" he asked hopefully, his blue eyes looking trustingly at his friend.

Michael's heart wrenched. Despite everything, Brian still looked to him to save the day, to rescue the innocent. He didn't want to, but he had no choice. Michael would have to crush both these hopeful souls with the brutal, overpowering truth.

"No," he choked out hoarsely, praying they would understand and forgive him for what he was about to do. "They wouldn't…" He stepped closer, his green eyes alight with intense pain. His gaze locked with Brian's as if seeking help. "You know they'd kill her first."

Lucinda gasped, and Michael moved forward and took the girl by the wrist, intending to draw her away from the door and back into the room. Lucinda wrenched out of his grasp and flung herself at the only exit, like a trapped bird battering its wings against a metal cage, seeking escape. "Then let me die!" she screamed, pounding frantically and futilely against the locked door. "Because I can't do this!" She slammed her small body hard against the unyielding wall once more, sobbing wildly.

Brian, stunned out of his hesitation, sprang toward her, afraid she would hurt herself. He grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her against him, trying to keep her still. "Don't!" he shouted. "Lucinda, don't! Calm down!"

But the girl did not calm down. She struggled harder, her cries increasing to a panicked wail. Brian was having a hard time holding her, loth as he was not to hurt her. She had gone beyond the point of terror, and was now unable to distinguish help from harm; Watching the video had transformed kindly Brian and gallant Michael in her mind into loathsome rapist, monsters. All she knew was she had to escape the horror of the terrible images that haunted her mind, and, blindly, she was willing to die to do that.

Brian, struggling to keep her safe, was just about to scream himself, with frustration and panic, when Michael stepped forward to assist him. The older man took something out of his pocket and pressed it to the screaming girl's neck; she let out a sharp cry, and went rigid in Brian's arms, then suddenly slumped, unconscious, against him.

The doctor caught her and lifted her off her feet, cradling her gently against his broad chest, the girl's long curls spilling over his arms. He shot a piercing look at Michael and then walked with his precious burden to the couch, where he settled her carefully down on the cushions. He knelt beside her and took her wrist, checking her pulse. Over his shoulder, he asked Michael a direct, professional question.

"What did you give her?" he asked gruffly.

Michael swallowed hard and stepped closer, gazing down on Lucinda's beautiful sleeping face. "It was a tranq needle," he explained in a solemn tone. "She'll wake up in a few hours."

Brian sighed, and then rose from his crouch, turning to face Michael. The doctor gazed at him solemnly as well, and then said some unexpected words.

"Thank you," Brian told him with relieved sincerity. "That was the best thing you could have done."

Michael let out the breath he was holding, and then turned to walk with heavy steps back to the chair by the fire, wearily slumping into it as if he no longer had the strength to stand up. He buried his head in his hands and let out a soft groan. "Merde…." He swore to himself.

He heard rather than saw Brian come toward him to stand near the opposite chair, the chair that Lucinda had so recently sat in while she told him how much she trusted him. The memory, only hours old, was now like bitter ashes in his mind. Would Lucinda ever be that light-hearted, that trusting, again? If Section forced her to complete this mission, would she ever be whole again, or, like Brian after the rape, would she be shaky and brittle inside, forever wary and wounded? How could he do this to her? The mission would destroy her. But if he didn't do it, she would die. How could he not?

Michael jumped, startled from his dark thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Brian patting him and then watched intently as the doctor seated himself in the opposite chair. The younger man sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. "So, Lucinda is safe for a few hours," the doctor began softly. "What happens when she wakes up?" The blue eyes opened and stared intently into Michael's green. "What the hell do we do then?" Brian asked, his tone as desperate as Michael's mood.

The older man shook his head. "I don't know…." He choked out, painfully, realizing this was the truth. He had no plan to rescue them; he felt as helpless as a rat in a trap. "I just don't know…."

Brian frowned, and then looked away, biting his lower lip. He took a deep breath for courage, and then made a tentative, cautious suggestion. "I know this is a repulsive idea, but I don't see any other options…"

Michael leaned forward eagerly, anxious to hear any idea, no matter how far-fetched or difficult to execute- he was more than willing to listen to Brian's plan- at least the doctor had one, and that was more than Michael had at this moment.

"Go on," he encouraged breathlessly. "Let's hear it."

Brian grimaced, and then turned his head again, as if unwilling to look Michael in the face when he suggested what he was about to say.

"Drugs," Brian choked out gruffly. "Could Lucinda be drugged, just enough to get her to act like Mariette?"

Michael's eyes widened, and then he shook his head, shocked. "Excuse me," he told the doctor sternly, somewhat taken aback and offended. "But I fail to see how adding heroin to this already unworkable equation will help matters.."

Brian sighed and closed his eyes. "I wasn't talking about heroin, Michael.." the doctor said in a morose tone. "I meant something else…"

Michael tilted his head, curious. "Like what?" he asked, once again hopeful.

The doctor opened his eyes and leaned forward, his face a mask of pain, but full of resolve. "I'm talking about what worked last time," he whispered softly, voice so low that Michael had to strain to hear. "The H-units," he choked out, voice full of horror at his own suggestion. "She could be conditioned to want us," he said grimly, turning tortured eyes to meet his friend's shocked gaze. "Just like they conditioned you…" Brian gasped miserably, "to let me rape you…."

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

Michael flinched, his mouth falling open in shock. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt like a huge weight had been dropped on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. He struggled to comprehend this impossible statement. Brian thought that HE had raped HIM? How could that be?

"Brian, no…" Michael at last managed to choke out.

The doctor shook his head and interrupted this protest, mistaking Michael's words for something else, for a denial of his plans, not his interpretation of their past.

"I'm sorry, Michael," the younger, equally anguished, man went on. "But what choice do we have?" The blue eyes glittered with tears. "We can't let her die. And the only way she could possibly get through this mission is if she is forced to do so by having her emotions manipulated to want something she ordinarily would be disgusted by…."

Michael stared at his friend, knowing he was not speaking about just Lucinda, but about himself. Did Brian really believe that Michael had been disgusted by their love-making? Did he really blame himself for everything that had happened?

Before Michael had a chance to process this stunning news, Brian went on, voice still anguished. He ran a hand through his dark curls and then sighed nervously. "I'm going to ask Madeleine to condition me, too, unlike last time…." The doctor choked out in a tense whisper. "Because there's no way I can be in my right mind and rape that sweet young girl…."

The implication was clear. Brian was being totally honest, Michael realized in shock. The young doctor actually believed that he hadn't been drugged and manipulated by Madeleine; he actually believed that he had taken advantage of --had raped-Michael.

The next instant, Michael was on his feet, and had crossed the small space between them to kneel beside Brian's chair. He gripped the younger man by the arms and forced him to look up into his face. "Brian…" Michael said forcefully, "I don't know where you got the idea that you weren't drugged, but you WERE," he told him tightly. "Madeleine showed me the reports…." He shook his auburn head, and then stared into Brian's eyes, willing him to understand. "You didn't … rape me…."

Brian let out an anguished cry and shoved Michael back, then leapt up from his chair and stalked to the side of the room to put some distance between them, as if he were unworthy of Michael's touch. "Madeleine could have shown you anything," the doctor spat out, distraught and distressed. "It doesn't make it true…." His tear-filled eyes met Michael's. "I don't care what she told you, as far as I know, the only drug I had in my system when we made love was the virus I gave myself," Brian choked out hoarsely. His handsome face contorted in pain. "That means of the two of us, only I was in control, in my right mind…."

Brian buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. "You didn't know what you were doing," he whispered, voice choked with anguished tears. "But I did…" the doctor sobbed brokenly. "God help me, I let it happen …. I… I raped you…"

Michael let out a sigh and then stood up. Determinedly, he crossed the room to his friend and gripped him firmly by the arms, turning the doctor around to face him. "Look at me," he demanded, almost angrily.

Brian stared back, a little afraid now. The tears of remorse still glittered in his brilliant blue eyes.

"Brian," Michael began tensely, "I had Walter run a blood analysis on you, just to make sure you were all right…" He shook his head emphatically, his tone gruff and sincere. "They'd been drugging you for just as long as they'd been drugging me…."

The doctor's eyes widened in shock. "What?" he choked out. It was the only word he managed to say; he felt like his breath was caught in his throat.

Michael nodded, then released his grip on Brian's arms slowly, one hand lingering on the doctor's broad shoulder. His voice gentled. "I was the senior operative," Michael explained softly, lowering his eyes to the floor as if ashamed. "I was the one with more training, the one with more experience in resisting drugs, and mind control and… torture…."

"Jesus…" Brian moaned, shaking his head. "Michael, please, you can't be saying this was YOUR fault?" he asked, appalled.

The green eyes flickered up to meet his, dark with pain. "I should have found a way to stop it…." Michael whispered tensely. "To stop MYSELF…." He groaned, anguished. "You didn't take advantage of me, Brian," the tormented operative insisted in a choked voice. "*I* was the one who used YOU…"

"No, Michael!" Brian protested, becoming a little angry now himself. He ran his hand nervously through his tousled black hair. "Give UP the god-damned control-freak mentality, for Christ's sake, and face the facts!" He glared defiantly at his friend. "You were drugged, too! You were conditioned to want me, to… love me….."The doctor's voice faltered on the last words, and he looked away. "You can't blame yourself for how you felt then…." Brian choked back tears. "You can't blame yourself that we.. made love…"