Michael was physically exhausted; he didn't need to listen to Operations go on about something that was interesting only to Paul. Especially after a mission that Michael had to profile himself. When Section had done the sweep of the Glass Curtain site, Michael had made the determination to go in because Operations and his number two where 'unreachable'. Michael knew that this rendezvous between the two top ops, would be Intel to store for future use.

"Yes?" Michael asked as the two men entered Ops office.

"Why was I not advised of this Mission? Michael you seem to forget I am still the head of Section, I need to make these types of decisions – not you. And just because Simone was killed by Glass Curtain I cannot have you avenging. . ." Paul asserted his position.

"You could not be disturbed." Michael answered and when he saw that he had Ops' attention he added. "Neither could Madeline."

"Well, let me tell you how lucky you are. George paid us a visit tonight. . . Center wants you to concentrate on romancing Nikita Wirth." Paul advised him, angry that the younger man's emotions were never detectable and not happy that Michael had an answer for everything.

"Nikita is not being very receptive to my absences. Perhaps Gray Weldman should. . ." Michael was saying.

"Gray Weldman? Where does he come in, he doesn't know her." Paul asked irate.

"He has already met and spent time with her." Michael answered.

"When? Who ordered this?" Paul asked.

"He spent time with her while I was out on the last two missions that Madeline assigned to me. . ."

-----

Boris Tyco sat restrained to the chair in the White Room. His hands bleeding as he tried to get free of the constraints. Madeline entered to interrogate the man.

"Mr. Tyco. You were detained during a routine sweep of a Glass Curtain relay site." Madeline politely said.

Boris laughed answering. "Detained?"

Madeline advised walking around him. "Under normal circumstances, you would have been eliminated along with the three others we found there. But, we detected the electronic signature of a signal tracker. What were you doing with it?"

Boris was stalling. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. Could you describe it?"

Madeline continued knowing the man was up to something even from the White Room chair. "If you'd like, you can set the tone of this interrogation. I can assure you however, that our way is more direct and less painful."

The White Room door opened with its baleful sound, Operations entered and schooled his anger. "Madeline, I need to see you now."

----

It was past midnight and raining, Michael stood in front of Nikita Wirth's building and noticed the dark windows of her apartment. He started towards the building and decided instead to turn around and walk away. It was much too late to bother the woman and he was not sure he could valentine anyone at this time of the night.

He clicked the alarm of his car and moved towards it when he heard his name being called. "Michael?"

Michael moved slowly around and spoke softly kissing her on both cheeks. "I missed you!"

Before another word could be exchanged Michael watched as Gray Weldman walked out of Nikita's building. "Hi boss."

"Oh I forgot you two know each other." Nikita said.

Michael laughed moving towards the blonde man and hugged him saying. "You must be Gray! Pleased to meet you."

"Very funny Michael." Gray said. "Nikita this is my cousin, Michael."

Michael, his eyes fixed on the blonde woman said. "She knows that already."

Gray added. "Cous, you're all Nikita talks about these days." Michael realizing the other man's awareness of the updated mission said. "Really?"

Gray's phone rang as the trio moved towards Nikita's apartment. "Oh, I'll get that." The call was arranged by Section while they monitored the entire scenario. Michael whispered to Nikita. "I'm sorry to bust in. I tried to call, but, uh, I couldn't get through." Then moving to the counter where the phone was located he grinned at Nikita while scolding the Valentine Op with his eyes and plugged the phone back in. "It's disconnected. I wonder how that happened?"

Nikita told Michael. "I unplugged it while I was studying and forgot about it."

"Didn't Gray bring you a cell phone?" Michael asked the woman as she offered him a glass of wine.

"Yeah, but it was broken." Gray answered.

Nikita making small talk realizing there was some sort of tension between the cousins said. "Gray, you never mentioned that Michael was your cousin."

Gray smiled at the blonde and answered. "My only cousin living in town."

"So Michael, Gray is not related to your other cousin – the one from the Park?" Nikita said and could have kicked herself for divulging too much.

"Oh. . . well. . . she works away a lot and is rarely ever here." Michael almost made a mistake but recuperated quickly as he wondered what Nikita was talking about. Then he realized that she must have seen him in the Park.

Trading looks with Gray, the later stated. "No, that is Michael's cousin on his step father's side of the family. What does she do, again?

Michael smiled. "Buys art for galleries. You know what's weird? We were just talking about meeting family today."

Gray smiled a bright phony smile. "Yeah?"

Nikita who could detect something unusual about this exchange and getting angrier still at Michael for his apparent duplicity asked. "So, uh, Michael, what brings you here? It must be something very important to come all the way here."

Michael was at a loss for words; Gray came to his rescue. "Before you tell us, how is Aunt Josephine? Nikita, Michael had to go be with her. . . he is very close to her."

Michael had time to think. "Kita, I told you, I missed you." Nikita blushed and nodded and Michael went on. "Aunt Josephine, she's, uh. . . she's still not doing well. So, I told her you'd drop by in the morning."

Gray answered. "Fine."

Michael moved forward, put down his wineglass and said. "Good. I'll be leaving now, again I am sorry to have interrupted."

"Hey Cous, cheers." And raised his wineglass before swallowing it in one gulp, as Nikita walked Michael to the apartment door.

---- Michael sitting in the War Room watched as Gray made his way towards him, stopping first to acknowledge Walter in Munitions. He moved to the conference table where Michael occupied the head and spoke softly and angrily to the masked man. "What gives you the right to barge in on my life?" "If you are going to take over monitoring Nikita, you don't allow her to unplug the phone, ever." Michael said quietly.

"All she wanted was one hour to spend with me. Was that too much to ask?" Gray remarked.

Michael smiled and answered. "Yes."

Gray sat besides Michael as Operations walked into the room and bellowed to Gray. "You are not to get anywhere near Nikita Wirth, this is not your mission. Do you understand that Madeline does not set policy over me? Report to her. . . you are leaving for Dingman's Hollow within an hour, check your panel."

"Yes." Was all Gray said before Paul stormed out of the room equally as angrily calling Michael to follow him.

////

Michael finished discussing with Ops what Michael was going to do to 'valentine' Nikita. The older man did not want Madeline involved any longer in any facet of this mission. Michael excused himself to go retrieve from Birkoff a new cell phone for the pretty blonde.

"Madeline." Operations yelled into the speaker that would ring in her ear. He got no reply. 'Where is she. . . '

----

Michael moved to Comm to where Walter and Birkoff worked at a station. "What do you have?"

Birkoff answered. "I ran the guy's prints and scan. I.D.'d him on the first pass. Boris Tyco. Glass Curtain recruited him last year. He was working on an oil platform in the Caspian Sea."

Michael asked. "Last year?"

Walter answered this time. "Yeah. That's the anomaly. How does a member of the freshman class get one of these signal trackers." Birkoff commented out loud something the three already knew. "We've only found these on third tier or higher...which is not Boris."

Michael asked examining the tracker. "Where was he before the Caspian Sea?"

Birkoff answered. "He was non-affiliated."

Michael ordered. "Keep looking." And then turning to Walter "I have to go see Nikita, what do we have her doing today?"

Water smiled. "Michael. . . it is Saturday."

Michael didn't smile, blink or even acknowledge the fact he was so overworked and out of the normal flow of life, so much so that he didn't know the day of the week. "I need a cell phone, the one Gray took her broke."

"Yeah right." Birkoff said and swallowed hard when Michael just stared at him. "Gray would not allow me to go to Nikita and bring her what we agreed, including the cell phone. There was nothing wrong with the one we gave him."

"Can I have it?" Michael asked Walter.

"He has not returned it." Walter answered.

"Then give me another one, I'll retrieve the one from Gray." Michael stated.

-----

In the White Room Madeline could hear Paul's voice through her ear and chose to ignore him. She wanted to finish interrogating this man and resolve the mystery of the tracker. She had a lot to do to insure that when Paul went to Center, her relationship with him would get cemented in the same fashion as Adrian and George's had.

Boris was answering the annoying woman. "I see your point. I suppose you're probably right. But...if I tell you about this tracker, are you gonna kill me?"

Madeline smiled her elegant grin and said. "Most likely. Unless there's anything else, but it will happen quickly and you won't feel anything."

Boris who was obviously programmed or in drugs added, "That's good. Because I'm not really fond of pain."

With this the man twisted his hands through the restraints as if he had no bones and quickly set himself free. Madeline who had moved to answer Operations' constant calls didn't see him coming as he grabbed her and slammed her against the concave White Room wall. He held her by the neck, blocking her airflow until Madeline passed out, slumping lifeless to the floor. Boris escaped through the cavernous hallways of Section One.

/////

Nikita Samuelle opened her front door and allowed Gray Weldman to enter her apartment. "Hey babe, I only have a few minutes before I have to rush to S1 – Michael bellowed." He laughed amusing only himself with the remark. "But I didn't want to leave town before I came to speak to you about us."

Nikita interrupted. "Wow Nelly. . .us? There is no us, I just met you, you are a nice man, except for that damn habit of calling me babe and love. . ."

Gray ignored her remarks, knowing that Madeline would kill him if he gave up on her, "Uh. . . you are angry because I am late."

Nikita looked at him, sorry for the misconception the man had obviously gotten about their relationship, but still wanting to snatch the ludicrous idea of 'us' from his head. "I am sorry Gray, but we've got to talk." Gray giving up. "Okay. What? But remember, uh. . . I love you." Nikita stunned and angry responded, "Don't say that! I. . ."

Gray tried to embrace her, she refused his caress and he said, "Why not?" Nikita incredulously laughed, "You don't know me. It's not going to work, and . . . I don't. . . love you." She was cold now, offended. "You don't know anything about me."

To add insult to injury Gray said, "You think I don't have time for you anymore, I'll insist that S1 gives us more time, Michael is not going to. . ."

Nikita was totally disgusted and confused with the crazy man before her and moved to the door, opened it up and forcefully said smirking, "Get out."

Gray walked out attempting one last time to touch her. She slammed the door in his face and he heard the security chain being slipped in its channel. Gray felt the two pulses through his earpiece and realized it was time to return to Section One.

----

In the meantime in a subbasement of Section One, Boris was hiding, seeing a female operative approach where he stood, he grabbed her from behind and broke her neck, using her limp hand to open the security door. He then moved purposely through the depth of Section, leaving bodies in his wake.

Operations approached Comm and asked. "What did Madeline find out about Tyco?" Not wanting to let anyone know Madeline was not answering his calls, he was sure it was because she was angry with him.

Birkoff raised his shoulders. "I don't know. She's still in with him."

Operations questioned. "She is?" Moving swiftly to a monitor and reviewing the White Room surveillance, he saw Madeline lying on the floor not moving and panicking yelled. "Go to CNT. Now!" As he ran out of Comm towards his lover.

Birkoff barked orders into the intercom. "Close all level access points. We have a grade two breach. Cycle down all local processes; kill anything that's not vulnerable. Get Medical to Containment, now. Madeline's down! Sadly, this was the way of Section – the manpower was the least important. Michael who was waiting for Gray to show up heard the two pulses of the alarm, which meant there was a breach, a hostile was loose and the contingency should be on his panel. Reviewing it he moved out of his office fast. Michael, a man on a mission, ignored the organized mayhem around him. Madeline flanked and obscured by Medical Operatives, who at Operations approach moved to allow the man to see the woman for himself. "How's her breathing?"

Operation was now next to Madeline, the anger of moments before forgotten as he worried about her. Madeline answered, her voice hoarse, "I'm fine, I'm fine. We've got to find Tyco."

Operations would have none of this and ordered, "Get her up to Medical, now!"

Madeline said as she was being put on a gurney, "It's not necessary."

"That is what we have operatives for Madeline. Go." He followed the Medical team down the hallway.

----

Birkoff's assistant looked perplexed as she worked over the same problem for the fifth time, she turned asking her equally busy superior, "Do you have the lock on the encryption class?"

Birkoff answered without looking away from his screen, "No. Why?"

Before Birkoff arrived at her side she answered, typing furiously, "I can't get at it. Someone synchronized it."

In Sublevel G4 the terrorist was hard at work rewiring I-O in preparation to transmit. Birkoff could see this on the computer and yelled, "Reroute the bit stream! Throw a security exception! Do it fast." Then softly, through a deep special channel, "Who's in G4? Is anyone up there?"

Michael's always controlled and calm voice, while strutting deliberately down a long hall full of twists and turns, came over the young man's earpiece, "I am."

Birkoff pointing out the obvious to a purposeful Level 5 commented in a ridiculous whisper, "Michael, he's up there somewhere."

Michael in the middle of the mayhem could still see the humor in the tone Birkoff was using, "I know."

Birkoff told the stealthily moving man, "All right, I'll send in a team."

Michael ordered, "No, seal us off now before he moves." A series of sliding doors and gates moved ominously to a closed position. "Can you pinpoint the sector?"

Birkoff answered moving from monitor to monitor, "No, he's taken out a bank of monitors. I'm tracking him through his activities. He's running a sequence of patches on I-O, trying to transmit."

Michael answered as he heard either rats or the terrorist scurry by, "Don't shut down the system, run Vibar off it."

"Damn it," Birkoff cursed because of what he was seeing in his deep-rooted channel. Michael approached the totally focused Tyco realizing the man was on a suicide mission. After a fear fight, Michael killed the man with his bear hands before he detonated the 'bunker bomb' he had surgically implanted in him.

Birkoff turned to an approaching Operations who was returning from Med Lab and told him that Michael had been too late, for the dead man had succeeded in transmitting some information about Section to Glass Curtain.

"Birkoff. . . what information did he transmit?" Paul asked.

Birkoff was distracted and didn't answer Paul. When Michael arrived at Comm, he held unto Birkoff's rolling chair and turned the young man to face both him and Operations. "What information did he transmit?"

Michael answered for an obviously timorous Seymour. "Coordinates, the location of Section One."

/////

Operations looked up as an obviously hurt Madelyn was wheeled into Comm. "Tyco's dead."

Madeline nodded and asked. "The depth of the breach?"

Operations half smiled and helped her up. "We don't know everything yet, but we do know he tapped into Comm."

Madeline stating the obvious. "This was a well choreographed plan, even his capture must have been expected. Whoever is behind this has substantial resources; I'll check the initial Intel, see who fed us."

Operations placing a hand on her shoulder and pointing said, "Birkoff's already on it. We're going to brief in Systems in ten minutes. This isn't good."

Paul overwhelmed but not out of control, demonstrated what made him a great 'Operations' by addressing other issues still at hand. His focus changed, turning to Michael, "Michael, Nikita just became even more important, call and prepare her to move to the States by tomorrow, make the arrangements. Who can accompany her?"

Madeline smiled stating. "Obviously not Michael."

Operations, anger wheeling up until he looked at his second in command who stated, "She can go by herself, Michael, go spend some time with her. We are now in the preliminaries, possibly the transmission failed. . ."

Michael handed Madeline the PDA he had taken from Boris and she inspected the information contained within. "What about the body of the transmission?"

Michael answered softly, "Birkoff encoded it."

Madeline asked him while Birkoff together with Paul and Walter had moved to a bank of computers, "Will they break the code?"

Michael answered anticipating some of her questions, "Yes, with the fastest processing available, Birkoff estimates in 72 hours.

Operations returning to Michael and Madeline asked. "So, if we do retrieve it in time we can reprogram and feel safe on that count?"

Madeline pushing buttons on the PDA answered, "Yes."

Birkoff joined them, "A portion of the data was not encoded and they will know where we are whether we retrieve or not."

Operations knowing the answer anyway asked Birkoff again. "You understand the implication of this, so I will ask you once again - are you sure?"

Birkoff afraid but concealing it answered, "Sir. I've checked it nine different ways. The data's waiting for you down in Comm, we have 72 hours, give or take 10."

Operations turned to Michael taking a deep breath and said, "Michael set a clock for a hundred and twenty minutes and then go be with Nikita and make the best of this time. I don't need to tell you how important your alliance with her will be. Then go to the secondary position and work with Birkoff, pull off a destination on the transmission, head the teams. Madeline, once you're out and safe, you'll oversee Michael. I have to work this out with George. Prepare evacuation."

Operations walked out to the middle of Section, his voice commanding and yet sad, "Can I have everyone's attention? Please stop what you're doing. Each of you is to go to your primary anchor points. These locations should be secure for seventy-one hours. We'll communicate on the alternate net with you. Those of you who are active will receive assignments on your panels. You have ninety-nine minutes left to evacuate. Good luck."

----

Michael stood in the middle of Section with Operations. They were moving temporarily, to the secure secondary position as per George's instructions. Most of the resources left behind. Section had packed as much as they could carry and left the place eerily empty.

Michael looked at an equally elegantly black clad Paul Wolfe. If Paul had looked at Michael at that point he could have, for the first time, seen pain, regret and sadness in the green eyes of the Level Five. Operations: Is everyone out?

Michael: Yes.

Operations: How much time?

Michael: Three minutes.

Operations: Let's go.

The men entered an elevator and stood side by side. It was obvious at this point that they were close, bonded, like father and son. All their differences forgotten, all their anger worked out and all their joined goals derailed. Paul Wolfe cleared his throat, emotion running amuck between the two usually stoic anti-terrorists.

"You've been here for how many years, Michael? Seven?"

Michael's answered so softly Operations had to strain to hear him. "Nine."

Operations answered. "I came here 24 years ago."

The elevator door opened in the usually unused exit that flowed out unto the city's Park. The trees, flowers and thick foliage surrounded the small bunker-like structure they exited through. Arriving at the sidewalk, Paul and Michael walked side by side, in perfect stride as the magnificent Eiffel Tower served as their background. Slightly, just barely - almost unnoticeably the earth shook beneath their assured steps.

Michael turned right to go to Nikita's place. Paul turned left to go to the temporary station. Michael felt the copy of the Directory he had taken from a dead Hardin, which he always carried inside his watch. The weight of the world on his shoulders, and for the first time he was glad he would be seeing Nikita.

////

Michael stood before Nikita's apartment door hearing the muffled sounds of obviously loud retro music. He was thinking what to say to the young woman, he had a small window of time to convince her of his intentions and he hoped the picnic lunch he brought would bode well. It was early enough on the sunny Saturday and he smiled when he realized there was a possibility she was not alone, busy with someone else. Smiling further when he recalled the Intel he had received - it was definitely not going to be Gray keeping her company.

Michael knocked and Nikita opened immediately after turning down the music. Her surprised look accompanied a pair of low hung sweat pants and a muscle shirt that revealed her perfectly shaped breasts, almost exposing them, her hair in a haphazard bun at the top of her hair. Michael thought she looked divine.

"Hey". She said allowing him entrance, he could see a strange triumphant look on her face when he obviously took in her vulnerable exterior with a telltale smile of his own. "I was getting ready to shower."

Michael stroked the side of her face with his open palm; action that made her blush and almost imperceptibly her face tried to rest on his hand. Michael noticing the acceptance of his caress moved to place one of her errand locks behind her ear, stroking his fingers down the shell.

"Hi." Michael answered. "For you." Handing her the wild flower bouquet he carried and then, "For us", placing the picnic basket on the kitchen counter.

Nikita moved away from the man towards the center of the room, nodding her head she felt indecorous with her betraying body. He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat tree moving into the kitchen, like if he was at home.

"You are alone?" Michael asked.

"Yes. . . so, what happened to your aunt?"

Michael looked up confused and remembered Gray's debrief. "She got dizzy." Nikita continued making small talk. "Is she all right?"

Michael smiled, not looking up from his task of taking the food and wine out of the basket. "Fine. Have you eaten lunch?"

"So, what's the occasion?" She asked plopping on a barstool at the other end of the kitchen counter. Reigning in her heart rate and her hormones that wanted to make her disintegrate with each flip of Michael's incredible lashes.

Michael looked up and he would have sworn Nikita let out a gasp when he smiled. "Do we need a reason to get together? I missed you." Handing her a glass of the Chardonnay he brought.

Nikita took a gulp and commented. "Not bad. Not bad."

His voice a soft whisper, his gaze heated, reaching for her goblet he took a zip of her wine. "Only not bad?" Moving to her side of the counter, his body rested slightly on her seated one and he fed her the wine. "So, you like it?"

There was that gasp again, she looked up and captured his gaze in her cerulean one. "Like? I love it!"

Michael guided her towards the couch, sitting himself down and pulling her to sit on his lap. He kissed her, their mouths tasting of wine and of need and lust. He separated and looked at her knowing she was his and somehow satisfied by this knowledge. She asked. "Do you want to eat first?"

Nikita seeking his mouth again, not waiting for an answer planted a resounding wet kiss on his opened lips. She could feel his erection and she felt him smile beneath her mouth. "We could take a shower first." She said.

Michael laughed out loud. "After. First we eat."

Nikita was acting underhandedly, her behind feeling his erection grow. "No, now. Together?"

Michael bit her bottom lip, pushing her up. "I only have a couple of hours before I have to get back to a family meeting. You already heard from Walter, are you ready to go tomorrow to the States?"

She played with his lips again, her eyebrows raised and her smile begging. "Yeah, I am ready, but I want to consummate. . ."

He kissed her hard this time, the fear and apprehension he had felt during the previous hours disintegrating in this woman's warmth. He wanted her, even needed to spend the potential horror in someone's arms; but he was scared of his performance, he couldn't hurt this woman who held the life of so many in her implanted arm.

"I'll bathe you. . .I had a small accident." He said remembering he had received cuts and bruises when he'd fought with Boris and the plastic surgeons in Section had told him it would be a couple of days before the wounds would heal.

"What kind of accident?" She asked afraid she had hurt him.

"It was nothing, I fell down a ladder in one of the construction sites." He said getting up and following her to the bathroom.

"Poor baby." She mocked, sucking his lower lip. "I have a boo-boo also."

"You do. . .where?" He asked rubbing his open hand on her breasts.

"Oh. . . I'll be gentle with your boo-boos." She said as they arrived at the bathroom, her hands quickly pushing up his sweater.

"Ok, you win." He said embracing her hard. He was now impatient as he restrained her from removing his clothes. He was ripping at hers in desperate need and she was allowing him the total control. She winced as he touched the implant. "Everything all right?"

Nikita showed him the area, which was no longer inflamed or red. "My hurt – its fine now."

"Poor baby" he said and kissed it, feeling with his lips the configuration of the healed cut. "It looks like a spider bite, I had one of those not too long ago."

Nikita was now removing Michael's clothing and smoothing her hand wherever he had a bruise. She inhaled deeply at seeing this man's perfect body and she kissed first one nipple, then the next as she said. "It could be, it's fine now."

They entered the shower together, holding hands. She looked shyly at him; he was fascinated by a beauty mark she had next to her left shoulder blade. He was kissing her alabaster skin and touching every erotic part of her finely toned body and thanking the power that be for allowing him this moment.

In the shower they bathed each other. Nikita had a scented shower gel that Michael found perfect for smoothing along Nikita's skin. His strong hand slathered the foamy substance along her arms, legs, torso, back. He bathed her like one would bathe a baby, thoroughly and softly not leaving an inch of skin unattended.

He then proceeded to wash her hair; sitting on the shower bench he soaped up her head and then combed the sudsy mass through his fingers. When he had finished he told her to stand under the water to rinse off but she refused. They had been silent, only moans and groans exchanged; she had allowed him to take over, now it was her turn.

Her sudsy body crashed against Michael's as he let out a breath. She slithered her body against his and when most of his skin was covered with soap, she rubbed some more on it. She was being even more meticulous that he'd been, for she paid particular attention to his enormous member. He was faltering; resting against the shower wall for the overwhelming desire was weakening his resolve.

"I. . . need. . ." He mumbled as he held her hand while it cleaned his manhood.

"That sounds great!" She said and allowed his leg to separate hers, as he moved them under the hot water and against the other wall. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Michael entered her at first slowly, but while his eyes apologized to her for his rough need, she knew her own need was not going to allow them the leisure of making this first time last long.

"I am sorry Mykohl. . ..Be ready – ohhhhh. . ..coming." He pumped furiously, her heels digging into his taut behind as her nails dug into his back leaving passion scratches in their wake. And finally she collapsed against the man who followed her instants later.

"I am the one that is sorry Kita." Michael said and then kissed her lips as he finished rinsing them both off.

"For what?" Nikita asked handing him a towel.

"For not lasting longer. . .." He said picking up his clothing.

"It wasn't short-lived, it was. . . truly great Michael." She kissed him. "Now I am starving." She said bounding naked into her bedroom.

Michael finished dressing; he looked in the mirror and saw a loathsome man who was going to eventually turn off the light that was Nikita. He could hear her humming as she found a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and put them on. He walked out watching her move downstairs and towards the kitchen.

"There is an art gallery in Chattanooga that is supposed to be fantastic." She yelled setting the picnic on the coffee table. "Hey, there's this architectural exhibit at the museum, which we might find boring, but. . ."

Michael smiled, moving downstairs. "When I get there I'll go with you, you can decide if it is boring or not. Whatever you want." Michael watched Nikita her face a bit sad so he moved to her side kissing her cheek. "You all right?"

Nikita pouted. "I am going to miss you that's all. I am afraid of all the trust you guys have put in my hands."

Michael engulfed her in his arms; he kissed her neck, then held her face in his hands. Kissing her lips, biting her chin he said. "Okay, look. . . I know you don't think you can handle the job, we do. . . I do, I have no doubt. But there are just some things you have to work out yourself. . . . I trust you, but most of all Kita now that I found you, I don't want to lose you." They sat on the floor to eat at the coffee table; she was emotional with his half declaration. He crawled to sit next to her, moving her to his lap, feeding her a piece of lobster. "Do you want to know why I came here today?"

Nikita nodded and shared the crustacean with the mesmerized man. "What do you mean? What do you mean?" She asked, getting in the sensual rhythm of feeding Michael and afraid of what he might say.

"To be together. Didn't Gray tell you that I was coming?" He said eating more lobster from her fingers, licking the butter off. "Isn't that why you're upset? Because you thought I was not coming?"

"Gray. . . he didn't say a word about you. . . and I am upset because of your cousin – remember in the park, and the fact you are sending me with Gray to America."

Michael laughed and kissed her again. "She is my cousin Kita, I'll introduce you as soon as she gets back into town – she is married and has two kids, don't be jealous. And Gray. . . he is already over there, but I will make sure he stays away. . . did he do something to you, is there something you want to tell me?"

Nikita kissed Michael and smiled. "Gray is a jerk that is all and I would love to meet your other cousin, babies and all."

Michael bluffed. "If you don't want to go, then don't."

"No! I do want to go! And I'll wait for you and we'll have a good time. I want us to laugh and drink, and I want to stay up all night long."

Michael smiled, pulled her up and embraced her fiercely. She kissed him again and whispered against his mouth. "I'm not crazy, I'm crazy. . . for you." "I want to make love with you one more time before I go. I won't be there tomorrow to see you off." He said seriously now.

"When are you coming to the States?" She asked guiding him to her bedroom.

"I don't know Kita." And then as he kissed her bringing their bodies together into the bed he said. "I promise it won't be long."

Nikita melted in Michael's caress. He had almost magically removed all their clothing and now methodically was kissing her senseless. His mouth traveling the length and breath of her quivering body releasing her need. When his mouth hovered over her feminine center, his warm breath sent a lighting volt of sensation to her core. Shuddering her release before his lips touched her wet apex, he finally sucked her hardness and she exploded with uncontrollable spasms milking his tongue.

He moved her still trembling body beneath his and entered her swiftly before the picture of perfection she painted made him cum. She opened her eyes to catch his gaze and smiled, "Hi, Michael." She said.

He kissed her hard, pumping his hips against hers, feeling his release. "Hello." He whispered to a completely melted woman beneath him.

The new lovers held each other for the remainder of the time. Michael had regretfully thought it was too short a time to spend with the woman he would have to eventually marry. He gave her his watch and asked her to think of him every time she looked at the watch. This gesture was threefold, it would be perceived by Nikita as a very romantic move, it would insure that she kept both copies of the Directory and it also contained a tracking device that allowed Michael personally to monitor the woman he now felt responsible for.

Later on, as Michael drove back to the temporary home of Section One he thought of Nikita. He pondered that perhaps it was true that God was in charge. That perhaps there was a reason for everything and he thanked the God he had forgotten about, for giving him the ability to handle every problem he sent his way. Somehow Michael was comforted – he needed this comfort as he entered the parking lot acknowledging the security agents posted around the perimeter.

/////

Of course the best-laid plans get waylaid when you are battling for your life and the life of the people that constitute your family. The war with Glass Curtain had escalated as the time to decode Tyco's transmissions grew nearer. So a high level Cold Op like Michael hardly slept or thought of any other mission. Especially since Glass Curtain had been responsible for his beloved wife Simone's death.

At Glass Curtain's headquarters a skanky looking Siobhan updated her leader Sparks. "We're six hours away."

Sparks who looked more like a bird of prey than a terrorist asked the woman an obvious question. His annoying voice like nails on a chalkboard and his penchant for Opera in close quarters more than annoying. "Have you contacted the cleaning crews?"

Siobhan not looking up said, "Yeah. They're ready to roll it up. Once we have the key codes to their satellite comm, we'll be able to use their own weapons systems against them." Sparks mumbling to no one in particular said, "Good. Six hours, what to do?"

----

Michael Samuelle and Mick Schtoppel, who was now green listed and cooperating fully with Section One, sat in a Section SUB by an airstrip watching as a plane landed. Mick had been recruited to find Freddy who was traveling with his own security of 8. Operations himself worked tactical from a Comm center at the temporary Section.

Mick recognized Freddy and pointed him out to Michael who ordered the two other teams on site to secure the limo and contain the jet. The automobile the terrorists boarded soon hit by a controlled missile that blew up the limo's hood. After a fierce gunfight a recalcitrant Freddy was handcuffed to the grille of the SUV and an electrical device was placed in Freddy's mouth. Michael calmly started his interrogation of the captured individual who at first was reluctant to answer the Operative's question until Michael's tactics convinced him otherwise.

The dark clad Operative's question quickly gave Section what they wanted to know. Soon Michael determined that Errol Sparks, the reigning king of Glass Curtain, had ordered the hiring of Boris Tyco. The same Errol Sparks that had captured and killed Simone, Michael's wife.

Michael asked the now dazed Freddy, Michael's rage hardly controlled. "Where is he? Where is Errol Sparks?"

Mick asked Michael as he moved to the Section van after having beaten Sparks' whereabouts out of Freddy. "Who is this Sparks, why are you acting this way?"

----

At Section Paul ordered Michael to focus, but he knew it was too little – too late. So Comm quieted as a determined Michael moved to join the team that was traveling covertly towards Glass Curtain. Michael in control and very much in command hoped he would find out what really had happened to his wife in Sparks' hands. For Michael himself had watched as Simone blew-up Sparks as well as herself the last time Michael had seen Simone. The fact that Sparks was alive was impossible for Michael to conceive, could Simone also be alive?

At Glass Curtain Headquarters a relaxed Sparks spoke on the phone next to a busy Siobhan. "We're just minutes away? I'll need to know who has hostage value. You're going to have to prioritize; we're going to have an embarrassment of riches here. So look, all I need from you is the money and the assurance that the addresses that I sent to you are the first ones you wipe out - that's right, I'm just another disgruntled postal worker."

The computer screen before Siobhan flickered and then the lights went off as the emergency lights dimly lit the perimeter. Siobhan asked her underlings, "Did we lose anything?"

Section Operatives rappelled down walls and broke through doors and windows; there was a gunfight and then Michael's commanding voice, "Cease firing."

The lights were back on and the team saw how Michael moved with Sparks towards the top story of the facility. The obviously larger and more powerful Michael now dangled the terrorist as though he was a puppet over a railing hundreds of feet above the mesmerized teams. The floor around the Operatives strewn with dead Glass Curtain agents, the computer banks blown to pieces, it was difficult to believe anyone had survived Sections obvious power. But Michael had targeted Sparks from before the fight started and had kept the slimy murdered safe from harm.

"Where is she? Where is Simone?" Michael demanded from a bewildered Sparks.

"I thought you saw her die when you took over the Marrakech substation. . . I made sure you found closure and saw her die before I escaped. . . We had her body cremated. . . her ashes strewn to the seven winds." Sparks spat out talking fast, but somehow sounding sad.

Walter called to Michael from the lower level as he watched the Cold Op's intent - Section still needed Sparks. "Michael." Walter's warning voice broke through Michael's fog of pain.

Sparks cried out as a bullet hit Michael's hand and the terrorist fell hundreds of feet to his demise. Siobhan had fired just before dying from a volley of fire from the Operatives watching her attack on Michael. Paul Wolfe removed the piece from his ear and walked out of Comm remarking. "So we live to fight another day."

----

Madeline watched worried as Michael returned from the mission and moved to talk to Paul. "Thank you." Paul said quietly.

Michael asked. "For what?"

Operations answered the stoic young man before him, his eyes misty behind his dark glasses. "You're competent and you keep your wits about you under fire. I tend towards impatience. It doesn't always work as well in the field. Sometimes I do things differently than what you would like - but I've set boundaries for myself, for Section. If I was to work outside those boundaries, I couldn't live with myself."

Michael answered. "I appreciate that sir. But it's not about you, your boundaries or even about your impatience. It's about the Section."

Paul smiled ruefully and said. "I know most of the operatives think of what they do here as nothing more than indentured servitude - it's a way to stay alive. If I could just impart the way I feel about this place... I am sorry for your loss, we all loved Simone."

Sharing a moment of silence, Michael nodded and walked away. Paul Wolfe watched an almost despondent Michael Samuelle walk out of Section. The debrief would wait. Strangely, Michael called Nikita in the States.

TENNESEE WALTZ

Time had elapsed since the Section 6 residents had taken their dutiful place in the community. To the outside world, generations had lived in the tiny enclave with country charm and obvious appeal. And daytime in the hamlet was best enjoyed at the small diner on Main Street across from Momma's Bed and Breakfast.

Nikita Wirth Jones awash with apprehension entered the luncheonette for the first time. As every morning Big Jim, Maggie Simpson, Momma, The Preacher and the Mailman, along with other assorted locals sat enjoying a breakfast of hominy grits, biscuits and gravy and fried chicken or ham, bacon or some other assorted pork flesh. And as was the norm Patsy Cline sang "Crazy" sultrily from her place in the jukebox - A3.

Everyone looked up from their meals as the tall blonde wearing sunglasses walked into the establishment. If there was surprise or questions registering in these peoples' minds it didn't show, considering the enthusiastic friendly way they used to greet her. Nikita felt a bit confused at the fact not one of these locals seemed curious of her; of course not - they were all Section Operatives. Maggie: "Howdy."

Nikita: "Hi."

Maggie: "We've got fried chicken and tatters, fried chicken and biscuits, fried chicken and bread and if you're watchin' your weight - you don't seem to have a problem there - we've got fried ham, bacon, and sausage.

Nikita: "I am. . ."

Preacher: "The new architect of the old Jones place. Nikita, correct?"

Nikita: "Yes. . ."

Tiny: "You might want to start inside with the remodeling, if that is your plan." Nikita nodded, "Good, never could figure out what's makin' that rustling sound in there."

Nikita: "Our firm is going to be restoring the entire property." Big Jim: "Tell you what, I can tell you what the property looked like in its hay-day, it was a magnificent place."

Maggie: "Ignore him, he is too young to remember what it looked like then. All the cholesterol goes right to the brain. . . Ain't much here in town, you'll be staying at Momma's Place?"

Nikita: "Yes, thank you, may I order fried chicken to go?"

Preacher: "Sure, they'll make it especially for you." Laughter "Come on back tomorrow. I think we're having fried chicken." More laughter from everyone at the diner; Nikita thought they were quite the jovial group.

After Nikita paid for her purchase she walked around town to the tiny park off the old Courthouse. 'The Farm' the unisex hair establishment bussed with tired middle aged women and men who went about their grooming in a mundane fashion. The outside of the one room schoolhouse was reminiscent of long forgotten simpler times. Inside the children wearing soldier-like comportment, spent their days in front of sleek computer screens. The gas station, with its full service mechanics, worked diligently on old pick-up trucks as well as new imported automobiles.

-----

Dingman's Hollow was a sleepy town in the South of the United States and everyone's idea of down-home. The small downtown area with its charming storefronts gave it a taste of Southern genteel flavor, of laid back afternoons in the scorching sun, of antebellum construction in the mansions outside of town and of magnolias flowering and dogwoods blooming. Azaleas in multi colored blossoms exploded with enthusiastic beauty against wooden fences, brick walls and abandoned barns. Nikita Wirth thought this was a place where the residents were born, but couldn't wait to leave or were people moved to and would always remain.

The baskets that held the lushly green Boston ferns hung low from the wooden headers of weatherworn porches that also accommodated old rockers and suspended swings that moved gently in the morning breeze. The well-kept lawns and brick walkways that were framed by perennials in full efflorescence adorned every long ago built home in the tight knit community. The Spanish moss hanging proudly from the tall old trees that sported yellow ribbons when the sons and daughters went off to war. The elm and oaks that were rooted permanently in this part of the proud South lined the homey streets while the pungent smell of new fallen rain or cut grass enchanted the visitors and was taken for granted by the residents.

Dingman's Hollow was a rural community in the Heart of Dixie where some of the farms raised horses, while others grew cotton or tobacco. But mostly the area grew a sense of Americana, of history and tradition imbedded in a surprising modernity without being obvious. This was the birthplace of fried foods, sweetened ice tea, mint juleps, thick accents and beautiful women. And always this place was where God fearing individuals worshiped properly and obeyed authority, and where country-and-western lustful tunes were heard more often than the church bells.

////

Before arriving at Dingman's Hollow, Nikita Wirth had researched the town's old history in a Chattanooga Tennessee County Records Office and State Historical Society. The Jones Manor had also been the focus of her research as ordered by her employer S1. She had learned that the Jones Family, French immigrants that built the mansion early during the colonization of the New World by the English, Spanish and French had also helped settle Dingman's Hollow. The first American born member of the Jones family had died sometime during the American War Between the States.

The research center attached to the "Daughters of the Confederacy' building in Chattanooga had unearthed a plethora of information on the town and the Jones' plantation. Nikita had spent two entire days making photocopies, buying plans and downloading information for her report to S1. Making friends with the old woman at the service desk, someone who knew the property well, had given Nikita the human side of the property's history.

The Jones' family had remained in the hamlet until a young woman who had been carrying the illegitimate child of the surviving Jones heir, fled Dingman's Hollow under the cover of darkness, disappearing never to be heard from again. Jones not wanting to divulge the paternity because of the pontificating southern morals of the 1970's had denied the pregnant girl her rightful place in the community and adamantly refused to provide her money for an abortion. So the woman vanished from Dingman's Hollow and never looked back again, creating a chaotic turn of events. Charged with the woman's death – although all the prosecution had was pure conjecture and not even a corpse – the man was convicted of a hideous crime and sentence to life in prison. Jones committed suicide while in prison and the abandoned property fell in disrepair.

It had been later learned, too late for Jones, that the woman had made her way to Australia, the distance insuring her anonymity and a sense of security she had been unable to acquire anywhere else in the United States. But the hard life she had led, the drugs and alcohol, the men and the whoring had taken their toll even in the faraway land and she had died alone, penniless and bitter. Her daughter long forgotten and abandoned to the harder life of the streets. The town-benefactor, the late Mr. Jones, had bequeathed his holdings including the plantation to The Center, an international group whose whole purpose was returning architectural heirlooms to their original form to be enjoyed by the planet as its patrimony.

An American lawyer had visited Australia to find Jones' heirs and advise them of the inheritance, learning of the death of the woman Jones had the affair with, he then tried contacting the woman's daughter to hand her a past she didn't know existed. The Jones' Last Will and Testament leaving a very tightly administered Trust that would be null and void if either woman were not found. After a number of years of not being able to find the heiress, the property went to the Center that accepted gladly the responsibility of bringing the plantation back to life.

What the records didn't reveal was the tightly weft convoluted story that the Agency had provided as explanation for the birth of Section/Oversight and Center. Jones had not died in jail; instead, he had together with Adrian built the most covert antiterrorist group on the planet. And after a terrorist organization had taken over Dingman's Hollow and Section One had liberated the town, the Agency had decided to place Section 6 on site and keep an eye on the birthplace of the Sections.

////

Nikita's arrival at Dingman's Hollow was viewed with trepidation by the close knit community. Could the activity at the old Jones place mean that there would be changes in the seemingly normal life the Operatives had been able to carve out in spite of being part of Section 6? The undertones of the secret meetings were reminiscent of the Salem Witch Trials and the newly arrived blonde one of those unholy hags. The children, whose laughter she so liked to hear would taunt each other with threats of visits to the mansion.

The children would tell stories that at night the Spanish moss hanging from the copious trees around the property would become an army of ghosts keeping the mansion safe. They would insist that the opera music playing loudly in the silence of the evening were really moans from lost souls trapped in the house. They insured their little friends that the darkness seen from the windows were not heavy curtains drawn around sundown, but proof positive that the witch and her warlocks kept vigil over the Vampire that lived within.

Nikita, as instructed by S1, did join the local church and donated money and baked goods to raise funds for a new playground, but had not attended services even once. The plantation had been in terrible disrepair, but was quickly becoming the jewel it had been in the past. The blonde and her team worked diligently and tirelessly at bringing it up to par with the other antebellum mansions in the National Registry. Rarely was she out and about since she wanted Michael to be happy with her accomplishments and thus happy that he had trusted her with this enormous task. She missed him terribly it had been a long time since she'd seen him.

Nikita thought she was using workmen from the City that was about 100 miles from town, for no one in the small hamlet was learned enough to repair the home properly. But it was Section One, the law firm that handled Jones' Estate, the one that assigned the handymen and women to do the reconstruction and repairs. She was not thrilled with the fact these people were in charge and she was not. She was kept in a small section of the home and stopped from wandering around the property. The Foreman had claimed dangers in the construction site to keep her at bay. She was told in no uncertain terms that she was not to get involved.

But her stay at Momma's B&B had allowed a relationship to be cemented between Nikita and Momma herself, Belinda. Of course Section sanctioned. The now attractive Belinda, not recognized by Nikita from their previous fleeting contact, had spent night after night drawing the pretty blonde out and allowing a familial bond to form between both women. In fact Nikita had told Belinda that if it was not for her, she would have given up and high tailed it back to France. Michael's long periods of no communication with Nikita had caused plenty of angst in the young woman who had fallen in love heads over heels with the handsome 'fake' architect.

Nikita walked out of her room and towards the small family room of the B&B, passing quietly by the bedroom door where Belinda supposedly rested. Her ears perked up and she would have sworn she heard a mysterious conversation through a speakerphone between Belinda and a man she would have sworn sounded like Walter. So she stopped and listened, intrigued by the exchange.

Walter obviously boasting, "Were you impressed?" Belinda amused at Walter's tone, "Impressed?"

Walter's voice sent chills down Nikita's spine, but Belinda picked up the phone and Nikita was not able to hear much after that, "With the dart gun in the hotel room. Handled just like a TRG-21, right?"

Nikita felt she was eves dropping and chucked her paranoia about the call as just the angst she was experiencing because of Michael. And Belinda a bit more seriously said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Walter still playing, "You can do anything you want to me, and it can last for more than a minute."

Belinda whispered and Nikita had trouble hearing making her departure from the area understandable, "Have you ever been involved with anyone outside the Section?"

Walter answered with a lecherous sneer, "Once a week, if I'm lucky."

Belinda breathed hard and answered angrily, "That's not what I meant."

Walter stopped joking; realizing Belinda was being serious, "Oh, jeez. Don't tell me. You didn't fall in love, did you, Belinda? That is not a good idea."

Belinda hurriedly said, "Not me Walter, its her, she loves Michael and I need to know if he'll ever return that love. But in any event, why not – why is this type of love not allowed?"

Walter sighed, recalling, "Paula Davenport. Sweetest little speech pathologist you'd ever want to meet. The only other girl I ever had that I didn't kick out as soon as the show was over."

Belinda infuriated, "Oh, that's romantic."

Walter now turned serious, "No, you know what I mean. She had my number. I mean, I. . . I still think about her every now and again."

Belinda smiled, but was still worried, "So, what happened?"

Walter honestly replied, "Not that I was ever that big on honesty, but when you have to lie to someone every minute of every day. . . thank God I don't have that problem with you."

Belinda answered Walter, "Sure, I know."

Walter realizing the disappointment in Belinda's voice added, "With Michael it will be different, he is going into a Section ordered marriage. He'll be good to her. But he knows that if he told her the truth, he might as well take a gun and shoot her himself."

Belinda exasperated by the answer she understood to be right said, "So, that's it?"

Walter smiled sadly, "When you are any of us, you can't dwell on what you can't have. Hey, look. . . if you lost an arm, you could spend the rest of your life depressed because you can't play the piano, or. . . or. . ."

Belinda asked after Walter's long pause, "Or?"

As always Walter's depth amazed Belind, "Or, you could learn to sing. Do Michael a favor, Belinda. . . teach Nikita to sing."

////

The Foreman of the Jones project, a Chris Ferrara, had tried making sexual advances towards Nikita in more than one occasion. She had awoken in the middle of the night while restoring the fireplace brick in the main hall and found the man standing over her. Terrifying her the man attempted to confess undying love for the woman who had laughed in spite of her fear and had summarily dismissed him.

Things got ugly after that with Nikita finally clunking the obviously drunken man on the head with a lamp. Nikita called Michael and reported the incident. Although Michael had not seen her in over three months, he was attentive and receptive and promised he would take care of the problem himself. Somehow these assurances from Michael appeased Nikita. ///

"I don't care what you have to say Madeline, our days are numbered here, we have to get our new Section finished in the States. The French government is not happy with the Americans and we must move – period." Paul was pacing in his temporary aerie dressed in black and wearing his white hair in a shorter coif that made him look 'softer'.

Beautiful Madeline Sandss was resting her hip gently on the handsome man's desk, her hands clasped before her straight aubergine suit skirt. Her long beautiful legs crossed driving an otherwise focused Operations to distraction. Her smile was always present, always pleasant, even when she had to drive a point home.

Madeline's clever voice recited, "Paul, I am sorry you chose to send Ferrara instead of Weldman to the States as the foreman of the project for he has failed to seduce the woman. I told you he was not the adequate. . ."

"Madeline he was the only Valentine Op that was an Architect in his former life, all the other Pretty Boys were airheads." Paul interrupted, "She would have seen right through them. And you took care of discrediting Gray, the other architect in our ranks. . ."

"I am going to suggest again. . ." Madeline continued and Paul interrupted one more time.

"With this situation Michael is the only option Madeline. I'll say it again, the man needs to go into an emotional attachment after having lost Simone twice in one life time," Paul added.

"He doesn't need this Paul, I hate to disagree with you," Madeline said, "His numbers are excellent but he is out of control, a zombie, he is quieter than usual if that is at all possible." Madeline told an angry Paul, "This last incident with Sparks, finding Simone's murderer after all this time has really caused him, in my opinion, irreparable harm."

"Nonsense, I think it brought him closure. I am willing to bet this is exactly what he needs." Paul said and then bellowed, "Walter" calling through the intercom at seeing the bandana wearing old hippie talking to a morose Michael, "Get your ass up here, you too Michael."

"You wanted to see us?" Walter said gruffly moments later.

"Walter have you determined how long it would take to close the temporary facilities here in Paris?" Ops asked agitatedly.

"5 minutes, you know we just detonate. . ." Walter said.

Ops went to interrupt when a distracted Michael beat him to the punch, "The Stateside Section is not ready?" More a statement than a question, Michael was out of the loop when it came to the actual progress of the construction of the new Section facilities.

"Michael I don't remember addressing you," Pause, then Paul said, "No, Ferrara proofed to be as worthless as Gray. We need to go back to our previous profile, Ms. Wirth has not even engaged him in conversation and he tried raping her for heaven's sake. The team has not been able to even see the underground facility Jones built so long ago, and no one is taking care of the Directory and its vessel - Nikita."

"Michael, Operations seems to think that you would be able to handle this mission still," Madeline told the man.

"Of course," Michael answered as usual, after all he was in contact with Nikita, but he needed to make these two think that he did not care.

"Splendid, I am leaving the profiling of this to you Michael, we don't have time to approve anything, use Walter and Birkoff. I must go meet with George and Madeline will start moving our 'belongings." Paul smiled at Madeline, which meant she would be going to the States, the time was up.

"It isn't like we can call the Seven Santini Brothers to move us." Walter remarked.

"Walter you are a teenager at heart," Madeline whispered as Paul and Michael walked out of the office.

"Michael no one has ever attempted a 'Deep Blood Cover Mission', Oversight and Center would be very appreciative." Paul told the gloomy handsome man, "They are talking about you as my replacement when I go to Center."

"Of course," Michael didn't want to talk and Paul was going to present his thoughts to the accepting younger man anyway.

"Michael you don't have to share your heart, just share your bed with someone that is not totally shabby. And all Section approved." Paul said adding, "I'll remember Paris."

/////

Three months and two weeks after Nikita and Michael had shared a rainy afternoon in Paris; they were about to meet again. The relationship had cooled off given Michael's Mission frequency, the distance, the shift in attention due to the war and more importantly the discovery of Simone truth in Sparks' lair.

Michael Samuelle arrived in Dingman's Hollow wearing a well-worn pair of jeans and a cotton tee shirt. His longish russet hair sprinkled with gold threats sparkled in the intense heat of the State of Tennessee's sun. His green eyes matched the moss and the foliage as it changed while traveling towards the Jones' mansion. His 'Level Five' quickness reviewed Section 6 with detached interest.

"This is now Section One Michael," Paul Wolfe said as the Section vehicles entered the town through a private, little traveled road.

////

Before dawn broke in the warm hills of Tennessee and too early for detection, dozens of operatives descended on the facility exiting their black vehicles after storing them in the old van access. The area surprisingly clean and restored sat ominously underground. The terrain sloping in an inappreciable fashion until the topography of the area disappeared into the ingress and egress of the underground facility that was now Section One.

The perimeter spread as wide as the eye could see and further, in every direction. For a virginal soul such as Seymour Birkoff the military precision with which the men and women of Section took their usual positions in the new space was awe-inspiring. Fascinated the bespectacled young man stood mesmerized at the replicated space that was Systems, how could this supposedly outdated area look exactly like the one in the Paris' Section One?

"Walter." Birkoff watched the head of Munitions move around his post with what seemed to be contentment, after all it was 4:00 am and they were jetlagged and Walter was not razzed.

"Kid, have you taken a look at this place?" Walter asked resigned.

Birkoff whispering looking around as if someone was already monitoring them, "What's going to happen?"

Walter smiled and whispered back, "What do you mean? We're going to get all the bad guys and we'll all live happily ever after."

Birkoff asked almost in tears, "Have there been others?"

Walter tried to understand the question, and then it dawned on him what the young man was trying to ask him, "Hell if I know, this is my first incineration. Furthermore, you never know what to believe.

Birkoff sighed, "I liked Paris."

Walter smiled patting Birkoff on the back, "You'll visit."

Birkoff continued the conversation, "What do you think of this place?"

Walter frowned, "Um, I don't like the way it smells."

Birkoff confused asked, "Why? What does it smell like?" Sniffing the air.

Walter cantankerously replied, "New."

"It isn't new Walter, it is more ancient than you." And then padding Walter on the back, "Look, they built you a new system organizer."

Walter asked turning slowly, "What do you mean? Wow. Look at that. Now that I do like, all right!"

-----

In an aerie exactly like the one in Paris Madeline and Paul stood looking down at the busy operatives below them. Madeline updating Operations while standing a bit too close for Paul's taste, after all Section eyes where upon them. Paul Wolfe cautioned Madeline by taking a single step back.

Instead of allowing the warning, Madeline continued in her pursuit. Her chocolate gaze moving slowly through her seduction. Her eyes concentrating on Operations mouth, focusing on his eyes, traveling back and forth with ease in a lustful inviting stare that she had developed and perfected for Valentine Operatives throughout Section. Of course no one did it better than the creator – Madeline, no one except for her honor student Michael Samuelle.

The problem with the gaze was that Paul knew it very well and he was in no mood for being 'valentined.' So instead of pushing her away, Paul holding a remote control darkened the window. He warned Madeline with his steely eyes drilling into her chocolate ones.

Madeline got the message and reported, "The system's been restored, except for two missions in Africa which we can handle manually until we're 100%."

Her hand resting on his chest, he smiled so close to her that he could almost taste her, "Did Harrison receive the requisition?" He said and removed her hand.

Madeline smiled knowing what her proximity was doing to the one in Command and enjoying the cat and mouse game she thought he was playing, "Yes. His units should arrive in Dover by morning."

Operations moved, Madeline thought he was going to kiss her, but before he reached her mouth he brushed imaginary lint from her shoulder and instructed, "Don't leak that one to committee. I want to see how it plays out first." And walked out of the room leaving a seething Madeline behind.

Smiling so not to curse she answered, "Done." Sometimes Madeline worked really hard to control her real emotions, this was one of those times.

////

A week passed since Section One had arrived in Dingman's Hollow. They'd worked tirelessly bringing the original structure to par with the Paris one and as Madeline had reported to Operations they were almost 100% finished. The organization remained secret, presently hundreds of feet underground and dozen or so miles out of town, where operatives of all levels perfected their crafts. And just as in Paris Section and its people blended perfectly into a nameless tableau of anonymity.

No one that was not supposed to know they were there would ever know. The operatives of Six, who would never enter the actual facility of Section would continue their lives and support the elite operatives of Section One when needed. After a loss such as the one they had endured in Paris and in other parts of the Globe, it amazed every member of the Committee how quickly the antiterrorist organization had gotten back on their feet, ready for action.

Michael had yet to see Nikita, she'd been given a bogus assignment in Chattanooga with the direct purpose of keeping her out of the small town and the chance of detecting any of the construction in the underground facility hundreds of feet beneath the Jones' mansion. Michael had called her and told her to leave town until he could straighten Ferrara or Gray or whoever was giving her a hard time. She had been grateful and elated to hear his voice, promising to do as Michael asked and return to Dingman's Hollow by the week's end.