Loveroy's Stories - "The Wheels of the Bus*"

The early morning moisture help cool down the seemingly stifling penumbrae. Michael spoke in whispers with Belinda who had opened the front door to the B&B when Michael knocked. The two operatives spoke about his reservations and about Nikita who still slept in her room. Michael looked exhausted, his vivid green eyes shielded by unnecessary sunglasses. He brought in a leather saddlebag with his belongings that hung over one shoulder in his usual unstated elegance. Michael handed Belinda a note from Walter; she put it in the pocket of her robe.

Following Belinda up the staircase Michael listened to the scripted conversation about the B&B's available rooms, just in case Nikita was awake. Michael watched the shadows beneath her door to check if Nikita was listening, he could not detect her presence, "Well they're pretty much both the same size. One's a little bit more feminine if that matters to 'ya. That one right there is where Ms. Wirth is staying."

Michael nodding as Belinda opened the door to his temporary bedroom, "Oh thanks. It's fine, thank you."

Belinda smiled as Michael sat on the foot of the bed and she said, "Oh good. Now I make coffee in the morning but the rest of your meals you'll have to take over at Maggie's. There's a phone in the living room, collect and credit card only please. There's plenty of towels, so y'all make yourself at home."

Michael whispered out of exhaustion, "Thank you."

Belinda stated before walking out and closing the door, "Good, Uh, it is now 5:10, Ms. Wirth usually gets up around 7:30, I'll tell her you are in, good night.

Michael smiled dropping unto the bed over the bedspread, his long legs towards the headboard, his head covered by a bare arm rested towards the foot of the bed, "Good night."

Not ten minutes later Nikita who had heard the murmuring entered Michael's dark room. She watched his relaxed body, the serene movement of his chest as he breathed in and out, the impressive body she had committed to memory and an uncontrollable urge to kiss him overwhelmed her. She knelt next to his head and moved purposely but tenderly placing her lips on his forehead, kissing him.

Michael opened his eyes smiling, as she kissed his lips delicately, "Hi."

Nikita was wearing tap pants and camisole in soft baby blue satin with tiny white flowers. Barefoot, her hair loose but not messy from her sleep moments before. She had brushed her teeth before coming into the fully clothed Michael's room. She smelled of violets and to an exhausted Michael she looked better than a firm mattress; he could loose himself in this woman.

She continued her tender assault, mapping his face with her mouth, "You'll love this place Michael. It's beautiful here."

Michael allowing the caressing of her lips and starting the attention to her body with his hands said, "You're beautiful."

Nikita could see how tired he was and she tried to stop her care but he would have none of it. So as he stroked his fingers on her lips she said, "I used to dream that there were places like this somewhere; safe, warm. Do you ever think of anything like that?"

Michael took over the kissing, placing his lips on her forehead and her nose and chin, "Yes."

Nikita allowed him to take over, asking, "You never talk about it?"

He was stroking her eyebrow with his thumb, looking deeply into her eyes, "Inside. Nobody can change it. It will always be what I need it to be."

Nikita asked, her eyes brimming with tears, "Is it anything like this?"

Michael smiled, nodding, "A little maybe. . . you're there."

Nikita kissed Michael's face and neck and noticed he was drifting off, so she waited until his eyes were closed and found a quilt to cover him. She turned to leave but Michael held her hand, pulling her down on top of him, kissing her hard. She sighed, melting into his arms.

"Don't go. Sleep with me. . . just sleep." He asked, she nodded, her eyes buried in his and he closed his eyes saying, "It's been a strange week." Nikita faced him; her head nestled under his chin and smiled at his obvious attempt at humor, "That's one way to put it. I don't know what was more unusual, Ferrara's advances or you riding in on your white horse after over 3 months."

Michael stroked her head, "I didn't choose to stay away."

She smiled bitterly, "But you did. So what's changed? Maybe enough time has passed. . ." Michael opened his eyes, bringing her gaze to his as he kissed her with a painful tenderness, "I hope not too much time has passed. . ."

Nikita smiled sadly, "So why are you here now?" Michael joyfully kissed her lips and nestled her under his chin again. . . voice almost impossibly low, totally fatigued, "I missed you."

And a fearful Michael somehow meant it, his heart fluttering with something other than the usual dread that came with Valentine missions. Not even with Simone had he felt this. . . Michael thought this is what home used to feel like as he drifted into a dream filled sleep.

////

The morning arrived too quickly for Michael and although he was finally rested, he would have loved to still be sharing the warmth of his bed with the mesmerizing Nikita. He opened his eyes looking for her and instead found the still warm imprint of her perfect body on the empty space next to him. She could not be too far from his bed because her side of it was scorched with the impression her presence had made on the mattress and on Michael. He could still smell the clean aroma of violet water and he frowned missing the beautiful blonde's gleeful greeting and temperate embrace.

"Kita," Hoarsely he again called for the woman, receiving no answer so he used her absence to scan the area.

Michael walked around the bedroom, surveillance detector in his hand. He was wearing only his jeans; no shirt or shoes and he held his travel kit in his other hand after retrieving it from his saddlebags. Michael did not find any devices in the room and felt partially relieved, he still needed to retrieve his copy of the Directory that he'd hidden with an unsuspecting Nikita. He could hear her voice in the front garden below and moved to the window with its wooden blinds closed. Moving a slat at eye level, he could see Nikita standing by the chain link fence that followed the sidewalk, as a dark clad tall man approached her.

"Jamey?" Nikita's timorous voice hardly above a whisper questioned the tall blond man.

The man smiled a 'plastic' smile and waved, "Whoa, Nikita."

Nikita frowned, obviously confused and asked, "Yeah? I thought you were dead. I thought you died in prison. How long you been here?"

Jamey obviously afraid looked around, his voice still a whisper, "Just over a year. What are you doing here?" And at hearing other black clad men calling him, Jamey said, "Don't tell anyone."

Nikita asked even more confused, "What do you mean?"

Jamey frowned, held her arm and delivered softly between clenched teeth, "You don't know me, and I don't know you." Walking away.

Michael watching Jamey's black SUV disappearing down the country road that led to Section One threw on a shirt and not bothering buttoning it or putting on shoes, ran downstairs to the front door. Although he was not thrilled with the prospect of marrying this woman; he would do it though for she was his ticket to heading all the Sections. However, she was an innocent, a valuable untainted one at that and he would not allow anything to hurt her. He needed her.

Michael called for Nikita who was wearing a pair of pedal pushers in light blue and a belly shirt, she looked fresh and untainted, "Nikita, where are you?"

Nikita stuttered, she was not sure how much he'd seen and didn't know how to lie, "Right here. I thought I heard. . . never mind. Good morning, do you want coffee?" Michael put on a fake smile and nodded in the affirmative moving towards the sunroom and the coffee, "Let's go."

----

Michael and Nikita drank coffee sitting in the pretty yellow sunroom. He told Nikita he was hungry and wanted to bathe before going to get breakfast. They made plans to go to the mansion afterwards so that Michael could check the progress on the project so far. She agreed and as they walked towards the diner, they discussed her concerns about the beginning of her semester, which was fast approaching.

The now relaxed woman welcomed Michael's suggestion that she transfer to a university in Tennessee so they could be together and close to the project. She promised she would consider it and snuggled closer to the handsome man who had slipped an arm around her waist. She picked wild flowers growing on an abandoned lot next to the diner that was usually used as a parking lot, putting a tiny blue flower in one of Michael's black tee shirt pocket.

The usually noisy and friendly dinner fell silent when the Section 5 Cold Operative walked through the door. A look at the iron mask of the legendary Michael Samuelle assured everyone that the man was on a mission. Figuring it would be better if they continued with their routine, someone put a quarter into the jukebox and Patsy Cline sang 'Crazy' one more time. Michael smiled and whispered to Nikita something about wanting to dance with her to that song and Nikita blushed as Maggie approached the booth. Nikita introduced Michael to Maggie when she came to take their order.

The buxom Maggie made a flippant comment to the couple as she filled their coffee mugs, "Too much of this will keep you up at night."

Michael smiled and said softly, "Thanks."

Maggie would have sworn she saw warnings reflected in Michael's eyes as she took down their order, "Breakfast is on its way."

Michael again, same insincere smile, "Thanks."

Nikita held his hands across the table and Michael moved to the same side of the banquette, sitting next to her. She brushed her upper arm against his and whispered making conversation, "See the postman over there. Watch how he's eating. He didn't change hands."

Michael looked up at the man and asked Nikita confused, "What?"

Nikita continued with her observation, "After he cuts his food he kept the fork in his right hand. Usually Americans put their knives down and switch the fork to the right hand."

Michael smiled again, worried about the blonde beauty's sharp eye and obviously keen mind, "Maybe he wasn't born here."

Nikita said brushing her lips with her fingers, "Hmm, he surely sounds American."

And as if scripted the postman, southern twang dripping said, "Great chow Mags. I better shove off though. Catch you later."

Nikita laughed quietly and Michael's mouth softly replaced her fingers on her lips, and she said, "Maybe his mother was European and taught him table manners."

/////

The couple spent the day in the Mansion reviewing the construction so far. The crew left for the day and Michael and Nikita remained behind. They decided to try out the newly renovated kitchen and ran out to purchase food to prepare. Nikita started a fire in the hearthstone she herself renovated and set a card table and folding chairs in front of the fire so they could eat. Michael walked around in the silence of the early evening making sure that Section One's activities, way underground, could not be detected from anywhere in the old mansion. Nikita borrowed an old phonograph from a parlor and finding old records, played music in the background that they continuously replay due to the short length of the songs.

Now after dinner, Michael Samuelle held Nikita closely as an old ballad in French played soothingly in the old phonograph. Like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire the couple glided effortlessly on their stocking feet along the cold stone floor of the room. She shivered and he stopped to put more wood in the berth immediately sending a shower of sparks that crackled happily in appreciation of the other embers. The cold she felt was from her need and not the temperature in the room. Nikita moved to pour her soon to be again lover, a glass of red wine and served herself one also, handing it to a very appreciative Michael.

"Thank you. . ." kissing her softly as his empty hand again wrapped itself around her waist and the seductive dance began one more time, he said, "Dinner was wonderful, thank you."

"Well it wasn't as good as the meal we got this morning," Nikita smiled moving again to the beat of the music.

"I liked it there," Michael laughed. In a quiet moment as Nikita shuttered her eyes from the sheer emotion of this man's draw, Michael continued with his declaration, "You know it can't be casual between you and me. . . can't do that. . ."

"I know," A very emotional Nikita looked at Michael, tears streaming down her face.

His look intense and emotional as well, "Good."

He was worried for Nikita, for himself, for his position, for her freedom. The next day he would make an excuse to the powers that be and investigate the blond man she'd called Jamie. In the meantime he would enjoy this woman - his assignment as well as he could.

He stroked the Directory imbedded in her arm. He noticed it was hardly detectable and he sighed, "Is this better?"

"What?" A bit distracted by the hand that now raked its nails under her shirt's hem, "Oh, the spider bite – fine."

Again his tongue snaked in her ear and he declared one more time, "Good."

Nikita stopped dancing, Michael's declaration of how it should be between them still resounded in her mind. She was being disingenuous with him; all day long the image of Jamie had haunted her. His fearful remark. . . why would he say something like that? She needed to trust Michael. She could trust Michael. . . or at least she hoped she could.

Bracing herself she said, "I met someone from my past today."

Michael's perfectly studied face reflected only one message – trust me, "Here?"

Nikita sat on the pillows they had placed before the fire. Michael handed her the glass of wine and sat close to her. She went on, "Well. . ."

"Is it someone you had an interest in?" Michael asked, suddenly afraid, sounding a little jealous.

Nikita smiled touching his face with her opened palm, "It's more than that. I know him, we grew up in the same neighborhood together. We weren't friends, in fact I didn't want anything to do with him, but I did know him and I wanted to tell you that."

Michael smiled, this time sincerely even though he knew there was more than what she had just recited, "I'm glad you did."

Nikita stood up and stretched her arm, "I found a Patsy Cline album. . . let's dance."

----

Later on, already at the B&B preparing to go to sleep both in the same room this time, Michael approached Nikita as she brushed her hair in front of a quaint dressing table with a flowered skirt and an ornate mirror. She painted a beautiful picture in her half dress state. Michael thought he could get easily get used to the woman.

Michael handed her a cup of tea he had retrieved from the kitchen and said, "It's herbal, Chamomile to help you get to sleep?"

Nikita's reflection through the mirror showed amusement, "Yeah? Thank you very much."

Michael crouched next to her, taking the brush in his hand he told her, "That will put you right out. It always works for me."

"Michael. . . how sensitive. . ." she laughed, "I'll just let it cool."

Michael continued brushing her hair, the 'Valentining' of Nikita was a text book exercise, "Well not too long now. You don't want it to get cold."

Nikita smiled and started to drink the tea and put it down fast, "I better not. . . wouldn't want to fall asleep too soon now. . ."

Michael placed the brush on the dressing table and picked her up in his strong arms traveling swiftly to their bed, "Yeah you are right. . . I am not that sensitive, if you can't sleep you'll be able to keep me. . . company."

"Is that what they call it in France? Company?" And she melted into his hot embrace, she would tell him more about Jamie the next day. Between kisses she joked repeating Maggie's words to the man, ""Too much of this will keep you up at night."

/////

The camellia shrub growing under the bedroom window was alive with its colorful aromatic blooms. Michael stood by the opened window in the wee hours of the morning and pondered his life right here, right now while the sweet aroma surrounded his soul. The woman snuggled up in his bed was a wonderful creature he would learn to love. In a way he should thank the dilettante frankness in which Nikita surrendered herself to his proficient snaring of her soul because she had made it easier to enter into this mission marriage with her. But as his subconscious guilt had hammered home so often in the past 24 hours, who was valentining whom?***

-----

Michael walked to the side of the bed and watched her body bathed in an ocean of brilliance. Her almost platinum hair formed a halo around her angelic face. Could he allow harm to come to this luminescent beauty that had slowly lent her light so his dark beast would again come alive? He doubted this somehow and swore to guard her sleep, her soul and her essence and he pledged to let his heart care one more time.

Michael moved slowly to the side of the bed, walking with assuredness his body entered the burning zone created by Nikita's absolute presence, then sitting on the edge of the bed he magnetically drew her body to his. He stroked her delicate brow with his roughened thumb and caressed her lips with his moist tongue. He nibbled softly on the woman's chin and tenderly kissed her shoulder, her throat, the lobe of her left ear. Without opening her blue eyes she rested her head on his lap burrowing comfortably on his familiar thighs and abruptly opened her eyes when she felt cloth against her face instead of the expected smooth skin and hard muscle of a naked man.

"Good morning." He said smiling ruefully and with intent, "Have to go to the site."

"Good morning to you too, give me 5 minutes..." She smiled.

"Not necessary, I just want to make sure the workers are getting there when they should. I'll be right back. . . and will take up were we left off last night. . ." Michael kissed her soulfully.

"Good. . ." Nikita said and allowed Michael to draw the blankets around her body, closing the window and the shades making sure the sun, which would be up soon, did not interrupt her sleep, "Hurry back, I miss you already."

In the darkness of the room Michael stood facing the bed, he could still see the light reflected off her wonderful head and he shuttered his eyes in concern. His mind knew he needed to go, his heart understood he needed to leave, his groin battled both for he wanted to stay. Indeed, who was valentining whom.***

(***Thanks to Michelle B for her quote (used twice).)

-----

In the war room of Section an impatient Operations stood in front of a group of operatives, including a darkly clad Michael sitting at the head of the table. Michael was hardly paying attention but was there to help provide tactical assistance if needed. In reality Michael was in Section to determine who this Jamie Nikita had known before, really was. Michael suspected the man was another plant by Madeline to try and derail his blood cover mission. After all coincidences were not something that happened in Section – Madeline knew who Jamie was, of this Michael was sure.

Operations droned on, ". . .has never been in hostile hands before; we don't have a predictor for her response. We have to extract or eliminate her before we can proceed with Krakow."

Michael asked without looking up, "Do we have a location?"

Operations added, "Our advance Intel indicates very low resistance. I'm going to open it up as a wet run. We'll use recruits in redundancy positions. Let's get to work."

Michael watched the group egress the area and hit a key in his laptop receiving the photographs of the recruits Operations had spoken about. The headshots downloaded by Birkoff streamed on the screen with the necessary personal information beneath their likeness. There in living color, the image of Jamie Groves appeared.

----

Michael stood by van access inspecting as always the mission loading. Finally Michael watched Jamie smirk in acknowledgment as he passed him on his way to van access. Michael did not show his distaste for the man and returned the look, forcing the Recruit to lower his eyes and ask a stupid question.

Michael approached the man, his face within inches of his smug expression, "Don't ask non-tactical questions."

Jamey made a sound and then asked, "Why not?"

Michael pulled Jamey to the side; a focused Michael motioned for the team leader to leave without the Recruit, the doors to van access closed as the team left minus one redundancy position recruit. Jamey in the meantime thought he was going directly to abeyance and was surprised when Michael, dragging Jamey by the arm the entire route, took him to a dark unused level of the new Section One.

"So tell me about Nikita..." Michael asked straight out.

Jamey laughed and then proudly announced, "I know where her mother is."

Michael stared at the younger man "Where?"

Jamey let out a cackle, "This was a deal point, remember?"

Michael was confused but did not let on; whom had this man made a deal with? "I won't report you, Jamey, that's the deal. Where is she?"

"No Michael, my deal with Madeline. . . " Jamey whispered the woman's name, "Was that I. . . give you Nikita's mother and you let me go."

Michael stood straight and looked Jamey in the eyes incredulously. How could anyone be as stupid as to believe they could get out of Section or make a deal with Madeline? Jamey, on the other hand, realized that Michael was not playing and that he should give him the answer the scary Level 5 wanted. After all his deal was with Madeline and not anyone else.

Jamey sighed, "Last I heard, she was looking for her daughter."

Michael rested casually against the metal wall, "Why?"

"Well, Roberta Wirth didn't believe that Nikita killed herself. . . you know that story you guys made up about her three months ago when you sent her to the States? She kept trying to get the hospital to produce a body, and when they didn't, she was convinced she was still alive. She even hired a detective to find her and now I know why he didn't find anything. . . you guys brought her here to Dingman's Hollow. I thought you could not recruit innocents."

Michael smirked, "I don't believe you. Roberta Wirth did not care about Nikita."

Jamey rested against the opposite wall, "She did, when she stopped drinking she changed."

Michael asked still disbelieving, "Stopped drinking?"

Jamey nodded, "Yeah." Michael stood and came closer to the man, "Where does she live?"

Jamey asked Michael defiantly, "Why? You can't let Nikita go back there anyway, isn't that like rule number one?"

Michael asked again, "Just tell me where she lives."

This time Jamey understood he was playing with fire, "Oak Bluffs, that is a suburb of Toronto where she moved to after leaving the rehab and where she found out about Nikita's supposed death."

Michael nodded and asked, "The detective?"

"Raymond Lowe, he is MI-6"

Michael stood menacingly closer to the man, "You are not to share this conversation with anyone. We did not have this talk. I will get you out of here and out of Nikita's life."

"But I liked it in Section 6," Jamie said to the back of a retreating Michael who hesitated in his stride.

"NO ONE Jamey. . . or I will kill you." Michael warned never turning around.

-----

Michael arrived at the B&B looking for Nikita and found her gone. Belinda advised Michael the woman had gone in search of some groceries for a pie she had asked permission to bake in Belinda's kitchen. Michael suspiciously and without saying a word walked out towards the small grocery store a couple of blocks down from the Bed and Breakfast. The clerk told Michael that Nikita had been there asking all kinds of questions about a new recruit named Jamey. The clerk had followed her to the Public Library.

"Is reporting the incident to you good enough, or should I still tell Madeline?" The young clerk asked afraid for he was speaking with the Legendary Level 5 Cold Op.

"I'll report it to Operations," Michael answered the obviously shaken clerk.

Michael knew that it was time to tell Operations what Madeline was up to again. Derailing the deep blood cover mission was going to affect Operations as well as Michael and he needed this stopped before Nikita found out what was going on. It was obvious to Michael that the fact that Jamey was a recruit and that Roberta Wirth was looking for Nikita could not have possibly escaped the all-knowing Madeline Sands.

Michael entered the ornate library building with its walls lined with books and works of art. It was pretty much empty, like everything else in Dingman's Hollow just a prop. He searched the area until his eyes fell on a lonely figure working on a well-monitored computer. He stalked towards her, his black clothing impeccable.

"Hi," Michael said putting his hands on her shoulders and startling her a bit.

"Hey. . . I'm trying to find out where Jamie lives, no one in town seems to know him," Nikita said a bit despondent.

"I found him," Michael confessed and Nikita turned around surprised. Michael pulled out the chair next to Nikita's and sat down. This was a good place to have this conversation for the area was not monitored, just the computers were, "This is one of the reasons I left this morning – to try to find your friend. Who told you they had not seen him?"

Nikita was touched by Michael's concern towards her and kissed him softly, "Just the man in the grocery store I saw him walk out of yesterday."

"Well I found them by chance in the National Park rest area next to the mansion where they camped out last night - he. . . was just driving through and one of the men in his group had a 'hankering' for biscuits and gravy." Michael smiled at the delivery of that lie.

"Hankering? Is that your word or his?" Nikita laughed.

"Neither, his friend told me the story. . . I asked Jamey to come with me so I could bring him to you, but he refused saying they were behind schedule already." Michael delivered smoothly.

"Well. . . he made weird statements yesterday about. . . " Michael interrupted Nikita.

"I know. Statements about not wanting anyone to know you had seen him. He told me he'd left his old life back in Australia. . . he didn't want you to repeat to your mother and friends that you had seen him. . ."

"That makes sense, although he knows I have no contact with anyone," She said, "He has a sordid past Michael and if he has straightened out, and this is what he wants – so be it."

"Yeah. . . by the way - we leave Friday."

"Friday, where are we going?" Nikita asked enthused, her hands clasped his.

"To look for a house for ourselves around here and to enroll you at the University of Tennessee. I want to leave you set up before I return to France next Monday," Michael said.

Nikita pouted, she understood that Michael needed to run his business, that their blooming relationship was just that – nothing permanent. Sadly she asked, "Anything happening between now and then?"

Michael smiled, "It's yours."

"Yeah? You want to spend the day together?" Nikita asked hopefully.

"Well, I'd like that but I've already made plans. Perhaps another time?" Michael answered knowing he had to do some damage control if he wanted to spare her more grief. Nikita filled with jealousy returned Michael's kiss as he walked out.

///

A dark clad Michael walked into a building that could pass for a Toronto government office a few hours later. In reality this was the Toronto office of MI-6 and Michael's high clearance allowed him access. His black designer jacket sported a plastic identification card that he used to enter an area filled with private cubicles and men and women hard at work. He asked someone as to the whereabouts of Mr. Lowe and was pointed in the right direction.

Raymond asked when Michael entered his cubicle, "Yes. What is this?"

Michael standing next to the man typed on his computer some sequences and said, "That's a closed-circuit live feed. That's your wife? My partner's waiting to hear from me, if you don't cooperate. . .do you need details?"

The man could see his spouse in the kitchen of their house and he knew what that meant, "No. What do you want?"

Michael asked softly, "Pull up the file on Roberta Wirth." Raymond did as he was asked, "There it is."

Michael read quickly – the Evelyn Woods School of Speed Reading course paying off, "Mr. Lowe, why are you doing this?"

"Roberta wanted me to find Nikita. . . I grew up with her," Raymond said.

"What other agencies have you used to acquire this information," Pointing to the screen.

Raymond looked up at Michael, drawing his own conclusions, terror reflected there, "You are with MI-6 Internal Affairs, aren't you? I'll cooperate please. . . this was just a favor for an old friend's mother."

Michael didn't correct the man, instead asked, "Other agencies used?"

Raymond stumbled through his explanation, "I have made general inquiries; asked my colleague James who shares this space during the next shift to check into the missing daughter. He, uh, knows about some agencies I don't have access to."

Michael asked relaxed, sure the man was not lying, "What did he say?"

Raymond answered quickly, "Nothing. He hasn't gotten back to me yet."

Michael answered just as swiftly, "You're going to call James, you're going to cancel your request. Make up something believable."

Raymond nodded and asked, "And what about Roberta?"

Michael answered by ordering, "You're going to call her and tell her that you have done all you could and have passed the case to someone else who will be in touch." Michael watched the monitor and continued, "The Internal Affairs report will be in my possession, the crimes you have committed are punishable by 10 years of imprisonment... not to mention the other consequences - very pretty, your wife. . .." Michael looked one more time at the monitor and waltzed out of the area with a final warning, "Don't make me turn the report over."

////

Michael returned to Dingman's Hollow and went directly to Paul Wolfe's glass office. Operations as always stood by the glass window and smoked a dark cigarette. He was fidgeting with a hand held computer and pacing back and forth in a nervous gesture.

Michael cleared his throat, "You wanted to see me?"

"Michael, I heard from George today, what's going on with the Wirth woman?" Operations asked the man who stood stoically inside his space.

"Nikita's mother?" Michael answered and Paul nodded, "She is trying to find her." Michael said to a stunned Paul Wolfe.

"How do you know that? Never mind - Madeline." Paul Wolfe called the beautiful brunette he had spent the previous night with.

Madeline appeared in the area within seconds; her office was close to Operations' aerie. As always she looked impeccable and quite beautiful. She wore an aubergine dress cinched at the waist with a leather belt and chunky heels of the same finest leather as the belt. She smiled when her eyes crossed Michael's his green gaze indiscernible.

"Yes?" Madeline asked although she wanted to say something about Operations' tone.

Paul almost screamed, "Do you want to derail our move to Center?"

"Excuse me?" A bemused Madeline asked, looking from Paul to Michael and back.

"Stop sabotaging the Deep Blood Cover Madeline. It is not only George and myself that are in jeopardy here; the Agency is involved. . . Mr. Jones himself has asked for this. . . am I going to have to put you in abeyance for Christ sake?" Paul Wolfe stood within inches of the brunette.

Madeline composed herself and said, "I have not betrayed the Section. I believe that what you and George are planning with this Deep Blood. . ."

Paul interrupted banging his fist on the shelf-like desk and picking up the remote blocking the view, "This request is not a one time event, this is not me perhaps purging or George possibly going through the start of a behavioral change. It is not even our request Madeline; this is directly from Jones over and over again. What part of this directive don't you understand? If it will make you feel better tell me, what would you like to do?"

Madeline looked at Michael and smiled her calm soothing smile, "I'm not going to allow this to be done to Michael. I owe him for Simone. We owe him. . ."

Paul Wolfe stood still looking at his Madeline, the woman that never showed her feelings, the woman that taught Michael his unflappable stance, his phlegmatic Madeline, "To the point Madeline, what would you like to do about this then?

Madeline with tears rolling down her face because she felt she had indeed betrayed Section, Mr. Jones and subsequently Operations quivered, "I want to protect Michael."

Operations stroked Madeline's face erasing her tears, "Michael, excuse us please. Just put what you know in a report for my eyes only."

Michael nodded and turned to leave, stopping he again turned to Paul and Madeline and out of character said, "Thank you."

///

Nikita Wirth looked out the living room window as the sound of a motorcycle's well-tuned engine approached. Even before the noise had warned her she was quite sure Michael Samuelle was nearer, her nerve ends on edge, her silent alarm ringing wildly and her heart pounding noisily in her alert chest. Like in a movie he came over the black tarred street surrounded by a halo of yellow lights that contrasted esoterically with the warned brown of his leather jacket.

His silver buckled boot winked at the rare passerbys, as Michael jean clad muscled legs rushed by, flexing when his foot rested on the metal bar. His hands wrapped around the handlebars of the bike controlling the phallic symbol proudly positioned between his powerful thighs. Burning rippling muscles from legs up to his ridiculously perfect square jaw and Nikita though, as Michael backed into the curve and hit the kickstand, that she had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Standing next to his bike, his perfect gluts dressed in shabby chic chambray displayed quite a bit of flare to the quiet observer from the living room window. Removing his black helmet and placing it gingerly on his seat, Michael turned using his step back ¼ hip turn and studied the dark windows of the Bed and Breakfast. Taking in a deep breath, like a soldier going into battle, he strutted into the courtyard and moved to enter the house by the kitchen door, arriving at the basement before Nikita had time to move through the house and reach the basement landing.

Michael picked up a beer on the way from the fridge by the back door and picked up a cue stick to play a solitary game of billiards. Quietly Nikita continued watching the man, this time from above, his head a riot of reddish and blonde curls giving him a younger look and not as austere as his usual perfect coif. His green eyes tonight a cloudy shade of gray with a mossy border that made him look feline.

He had rolled up the sleeves of his blue jean shirt and the fine hairs of his arms glistened by the light of the stained glass chandelier. The sound of the cue hitting the white ball and it in turn striking the colored ones making them roll as they were supposed to obediently into the designated corners, made Nikita smile. Was there anything this man could not do well?

"Hi," He said not even looking up as she approached the pool table, "Wanna play?"

"Yeah. . . but first we shoot some pool." She flirted approaching him from behind; kissing his tanned neck softly and making his eyes close from the overwhelming stirring he felt deep inside.

"Coquette. Have you no shame?" He asked turning to face the woman he had to valentine.

"Nope," She beamed as he kissed her smile, "How rare, you are grinning."

"You cause me to feel Kita," Michael advised, "From the top of my head to the tip of my toes." He answered moving swiftly up the steps, locking the door and coming back to the table Nikita had cleared of balls. Still bent at the waist, her flimsy jersey summer dress hiking up in the back gave Michael an electric volt to the center of his being. He picked her up by the sides of her trembling body, deposited her on the red slate table top and pushed her back separating her dangling knees to come stand between them. Holding her hands up above her head he started feeling her entire body with his empty opened palm.

Her eyes were watching him still, astounded by the thrill this man caused. She didn't want to feel this much. She didn't want to be so vulnerable to Michael's enchanting presence. She didn't want to surrender so willingly. But she would, she would allow him to have his way with her, she would allow her inner child to come out and play and feel and live.

"You make me live Kita, really live for the first time. . . in my life." Michael confessed from the bottom of his unaccustomed heart.

"I missed you," She whispered and returned his kiss with just as much heated need while he wrinkled up her dress with the hand that traveled towards her neck. Not enough exposed skin so she helped him completely remove the dress, leaving her naked but for a scrap of pink lace.

"I had a bad day," He confessed as he traveled down her now naked body towards her 'lace', voice awfully deep, sultry, wanting.

"Care – to - share?" She asked panting between words.

He stopped looked at her and smiled, "You want me to share?" One eyebrow shooting up.

Her eyes battling not to close due to the indescribable arousal she was feeling from the clever use of a cold cue ball, "You. . . oh God . . . need. . .Hmm."

She was gone, wild with need, her legs now bent, resting on the edge of the pool table. She moved her behind to the edge of the table joining her spread feet and now stretched out her knees allowing him better access to do what he may. She panted and whined and held his inventive mouth to her self by massaging her fingers through the luscious curls of his head. The scrap of fancy clothe creating a delicious friction, so it stayed. But the ball made an appearance again as she bucked beneath his mouth and was joined rather judiciously by the use of a couple long driving fingers while he rushed to remove his pants.

He continued kissing the inside of her knees and thighs; her head moving back and forth and he climbed on the table to join her, moving her to the center laying above her spread body. He entered her with on slick move, forgetting that the woman was not totally down from her own climax. He ripped the scrap of lace; he didn't want distractions.

Doing as she asked, "Mykohl, please fu. . ." She didn't need to ask twice, entering her again and again. Pulling out, to her great complaint, he knelt before her, picking up her muscular behind and driving her like he did his bike. He pounded happily arriving eventually with controlled explosions, a deep bunker buster of climatic proportions.

"Marry me please," He yelled as he came, his eyes watching the woman's surprise. He needed to ask her, but right now he meant it and Michael realized he had been 'valentined.'

////

Paul Wolfe paced clad in nothing more than a short black silk robe with his initials embroidered on the pocket. A beautiful brunette, parts of her body covered with the equally black satin sheets slept fulfilled close by. He sat on the edge of a leather chair, his elbows on his knees, his hands beneath his jaw holding up his head. His eyes battling to close from sleep and finally he crawled unto the bed embracing the sleeping woman.

"Hmm." Madeline said, whispering, "Operations. . ."

"Yes?" Paul hoarsely, asked.

"I don't think Michael bought the whole Roberta Wirth incident, although the woman has been making inquires?" Madeline said, her chocolate colored eyes now looking at Paul, "But I think he is falling for my sister, he will be marrying her."

He kissed her softly, "Why do you call me that even in here?"

"Operations? Because I like that you have command. . . it makes me. . .hot." Madeline said, intensifying the kiss.

"You are quiet the temptress Madeline, I never know what to believe," Paul said starting the romancing one more time.

"If you think that the title Operations makes me do all those things you love so much. . . wait until we get to Center – I'll show you the moves Michael taught me."

"Right there, Madeline. . . ughh – can't be better than this, I'll probably die." Paul Wolfe confessed in a strained tone. He couldn't live without Madeline and if this was all the siren could offer him, so be it. In a way settling his principles, Paul came.

/////

Nikita looked completely surprised and taken aback by Michael's proposal and profession of love. She thought she would wait for him to repeat the words, to again ask for her heart. Nikita reasoned in her mind that during passion filled moments men tended to say things they might later regret.

He kissed her hard and long, swallowing her answer as well as his requests in the desire permeation of tender love that always followed the climactic explosions. She was breathing hard, her face no longer a reflection of stupefaction but of wonderment as she watched him evolve from the passion filled being to the serious individual who spoke of their future and not their 'right now.' Almost laughing out loud at her 'Harlequin Romance' moment she though, 'Be honest Nikita, looking at this guy and what he does to you – 'What's love gotta do with it?'

Without saying much he kissed her nose, got them off the table, picked up the clothing that was strewn around the room and fingers intertwined ran up the back stairs to their bedroom. They made sure Belinda was no where to be found. Entering the room, dropping the clothing on a convenient chair and rushing through a quick shower (loads of groping nothing else), the terry clothed lovers tumbled to the bed after removing all barriers of clothing. He engulfed her in his strong arms and they rested on the pillows that were quickly dampened by their wet hairs.

"Penny for your thoughts," He whispered warmly, "You are so lovely like this."

Shyly she asked, "Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said downstairs?"

"What?" He said and she turned to find the smuggest grin on his face.

"Yeah. . . I thought so. . ." She retorted a little bit bummed that the naked Adonis next to her had chosen to joke at this particular time.

"Kita, I always mean what I say. Will you marry me please, will you be my wife?" Michael asked jumping off the bed and putting his naked knee on the cold parquet floor.

Their eye contact strong and steady, Michael's eyes actually joyful and intense and hers back to the romance novel mode. Michael held both her hands in his; he was after all the master 'valentiner'. This simple contact meant to convey he cherished her and everything about her, and scared out of his wits, he realized he was starting to care for the beautiful woman.

"No other vows? . . . Forsaking all others?" She tried to joke watching him closely; his green eyes flashing with uneasiness as a smidgen of love crawled into the lust filled mission mask.

"Just Obey . . . no need for death us do part." Michael answered a bit remorseful with the last remark - no one at Section had need for ever-afters.

"We are going to live forever. . . Then I guess the answer is . . . YES." She jumped off the bed pushing him back on the floor where one more time they showed each other their lust under a shroud of laughter and glee.

Lying on the floor covered by the sheet Michael had pulled from the bed, the couple slept. In the middle of the night Michael woke up and watched her with the intensity that defined him, stroking her face softly; after depositing her back on the bed he closed his eyes. He needed focused strength to carry this through and reminded himself that his first priority was the mission and then keeping this woman from harm – even if the last was not a shared concern by Section. As always Michael was 'conflicted.'

-----

A little after dawn Michael cuddling and distractedly making circles on Nikita's bare skin made his excuses to his brand new fiancé. After a very good morning tryst, Michael advised her that a change in plans would keep him out of Dingman's Hollow for the day again. He promised he would be back late in the evening and they could start preparing for house hunting and wedding preparations.

Nikita then decided and told Michael, she would go into Chattanooga and register at the University for the fall semester classes after visiting the Mansion. Michael had encouraged her new plans; one way of keeping her occupied and supervised. The early morning had progressed nicely and stress free for the couple who spoke and exchanged parts of their histories, set scenarios that could be repeated.

Michael then spoke with Walter and Belinda in the kitchen of the Bed and Breakfast. Nikita was taking a bath and preparing for the day after Walter greeted the couple and she had quickly made her excuses and headed for the bath. This absence on Nikita's part allowed Michael the chance to have the requested meet with Walter and delineate the next level of the profile.

Walter asked, trying hard not to smirk at the obviously smitten Michael, "Have you talked to anyone in Procedures about Mrs. Wirth?"

Michael stood and topped off his coffee mug, "No. They'll take extreme action. I want to protect Nikita Walter, she would be devastated if any harm came to her."

Walter slapped the side of his thigh; he would do what he could for this man. Realizing Michael was not ready to share the private details of the mission added, "What do you want me to do to help you protect Sugar, I doubt there is much we can do to protect her mom?"

----

Michael arrived at the private airfield; Paul Wolfe was already aboard the Lear Jet that Section provided to the elegant man, one of the many perks of being Operations. Of course some perks were more enjoyable than others as Paul had found out the night before with the lovely Madeline. The woman made more than clear the fact that one of her preferred aphrodisiacs was power and authority and this suited the goal driven Operations to a tee.

Michael now sitting across the aisle from Operations could see in the man's concentrated façade the same glow Michael enjoyed that morning. He didn't have to wonder what made Paul content realizing and putting it as Nikita would have in her indescribable flowery vernacular, 'the man had gotten thoroughly laid.' Michael realized that he needed to keep Nikita away from Paul and Madeline. . . and he also needed to stay focused, hard to do with the distracting thought of Nikita plaguing his brain.

Taking his mind out of the Ops/Madeline relationship and concentrating on the other aspects of the twosome's mindset he went back to the day before. Michael was no fool and pondered the entire scenario that the dynamic duo acted out for his benefit. Played out for Michael's edification, their message loud and clear - do what you are told or suffer the consequences. Michael preferred to keep the creation by these two of a potential 'sex police' at bay after all Michael had to last trump card, but the 'meantime' could be hell.

----

Paul on the phone micromanaging let out a sigh; he could hardly wait until Michael took over the Sections. This trip would be one more step towards his final goal to eventually run the Agency. To assuage Michael's concerns and as requested by Mr. Jones, Paul called Roberta Wirth's number. Michael had yet to let Ops know about his successful bid for Nikita's heart.

Roberta Wirth walked towards the phone sniffling, she had just received a call from Raymond advising her that he was 'handing over the case' to someone who could dedicate more time and resources and put finality to her grief. "Hello?"

Paul Wolfe smooth as a crisp Egyptian cotton contour sheet explained who he was and why he was calling her. Roberta listened and said, "I. . .I don't understand the connection. I mean, do you work at Breamare with Miles?

Paul looked up at the Comm operative that was monitoring the call, making sure the young woman noted the names Mrs. Wirth had used and then said, "No, I'm an independent investigator. Sometimes Miles and I help each other out." Roberta swallowed hard for this while scenario smacked of Oversight, "This just doesn't make sense to me. I mean, Miles was so committed to finding Nikita. He knew her well, her habits, her lifestyle. . ."

Paul smiled thinking of his own inconspicuous supervision of his son Stephen and thus understood the woman's parental concerns, "One of the reasons Miles called me is I have deeper connections in the intelligence community. And if you're daughter's alive, that's how we'll find her."

Roberta was not buying this phone call from a stranger whose number did not register in her caller I.D, "Oh, um. Okay. Well, um, excuse. . ."

Paul interrupted, "Have you kept anything about the search so far. . . reports, pictures, news clippings."

Roberta answered looking at her dining area wall plastered with information about Nikita, past and present, "You should see all the clutter here. I, um, I didn't know what was important and what wasn't, so I just kept everything."

"Well Mrs. Wirth. I'll get on the case right away," Paul said looking at Michael who listened with no expression on his face. A photograph of Roberta Wirth disappeared from Operations' PDA screen as he hit the 'Clear' button. The image disappeared from 3 other screens around the planet. A Watcher sounded an alarm someplace, the wrath of Oversight was about to be discharged.

/////

Hanging up the phone and sitting in her tiny dining room, in the chaotic undescript building in downtown Toronto, the petite and wiry Roberta worried her chin. Making a decision she would have preferred to evade, she spoke up as though she was speaking to the walls or ceiling, "Okay, I want to speak with Jones NOW."

Her image reflected from a futuristic hologram, in a futuristic room somewhere in a wooded location someplace in the Planet. The pewter uniformed Watcher pressed a button and relayed the Toronto based woman's request. The demand generating all kinds of steps that eventually brought a black metal object that looked like an electronic game control located in the middle of a glass conference table to buzz.

The man with the cane walked slowly towards a floor to ceiling window and looked out at the leaf-bear trees making up his view, letting out a long sigh he said, "Bring her to me."

The door of the cramped balcony hanging now from one hinge as the wind blew the newspaper clippings that were tacked to the walls. The sounds of a helicopter as it lifted from the rooftop lost in the loud sounds of the city beneath. The woman's forehead pressed against the helicopter window as she looked down with her brown eyes to the City below, she had been recalled, her hell about to restart.

The copilot ordered, "Send housekeeping." The building that had been emptied moments before, imploded.

////

George, his stocky body dressed in gray, proceeded to issue his deep blood cover directive to Operations and Michael with a triumphant smirk. He was also giving Michael carte blanche to carry out the mission. George made sure that Operations understood that there was to be no interference by anyone in Section with Michael's profiling and much less performance insuring the safety of Nikita Wirth and her imbedded Directory.

George already promoted to Oversight answered directly to Jones and the Agency he headed. But George could not move to his new digs and responsibilities until Paul Wolfe successfully finished his stint at Section One. Paul Wolfe's kowtowing to Madeline was putting stumbling blocks in everyone's way.

"Paul, it behooves me to encourage your support for this project, I can assure you that you are but steps away from heading Oversight if you just concentrate your derailed efforts a little, if you just work with us." The undertone of George's comment to Operations, loud and clear, Paul needed to get Madeline under control.

Paul's thin lips curved into a wisp of a smile saying to George, "I understand your concerns George and I am not excusing my derailed behavior as you so eloquently put it, however, you do remember Paris don't you?" George nodded pensively and Michael stood stoically to the side, his ramrod straight posture exquisite. "Incinerating Paris created all sorts of delays."

George sat down at the round Committee table and signaled for Paul and Michael to join him, adding in a gravely voice, "I do understand the problems you have faced Paul especially with Paris and that is exactly why I'm giving you directions and not ultimatums. Look, with all that is going in our macrocosm, you cannot possibly allow your underlings to change set parameters at their whim and without your knowledge."

Paul watched intently as George spoke, and Michael looked down as George went on, "Paul I would hate to see Center go to someone else when you are the one that deserves to head the organization. And all because of some ill advice from a supposedly well-meaning colleague."

George stood dismissing the attendees, "And a final warning before you go, Mr. Jones is more aware than you think of everything that is going on and is behind all these changes, recommendations and directives." George told his sometimes.

"Yes George but. . ." George interrupted Paul's comment mid word.

"Let me finish, there is much more than meets the eye here. . . remember not everything in our world is as it seems." George drifted not finishing the obvious remark, but Operations and Michael got the message he was trying to convey to the two men.

George continued, "We've put impediments in your way, sent children to test you. . . these are forewarnings that Jones finds necessary because Section One is not 100%. Jones will continue sending Trojan horses your way until he is satisfied you are ready for the promotion or ready to be replaced." The latter was spoken in an inaudible whisper.

Discussions concerning other Missions, including the conversation with Roberta, concerning other Directives and concerning the new facilities in Cairo, Chechnya and Mogadishu followed the reprimand Paul had accepted in his tacit way. Operations then followed with reports on the accelerated efforts of bringing the Tennessee facility to completion and George advised that Michael was to evaluate the benefits versus the drawbacks of having Section One remain in such a rural environment. George went as far as giving Operations a couple of Center related assignments and again insured that the tasks needing to be performed had Jones' blessings.

George put a hand on Paul's shoulders and looked straight into cold blue eyes as he delivered his final warning before bidding the pair goodbye. He had purposely given his admonitions in front of Michael and without mentioning the 'evil twin' Madeline; George wanted to shake Operations up and stir him back to the goal.

George said, "Paul, you are not the Gestapo of sexual relations among your people – don't allow anyone to undermine your purpose here. Section One is the most covert antiterrorist group on the Planet. . . our ends are just, our means ruthless, no where is there a caveat that says that our operatives need to be censured and dogged every step of their private lives. These are highly trained adults. No one in the universe has the resources or the desire to police our people, continue on this path and we will be hard pressed to get funding. We are here to do a job, to stop terrorism, let's stick to that."

-----

Nikita and Walter drove into town after a quick jaunt to Chattanooga; as quick as 100 miles each way could take. They had applied for Nikita's enrollment at the University; she would be taking courses through the Internet Access from the Virtual University of Tennessee. She was happy with the development because this would keep her close to Dingman's Hollow and Michael. As Walter parked the car she looked for Michael's motorcycle which was no where to be found and again noticed the non-descript Chevrolet that had been following them all day and thought better than to share it with Walter.

A small wooden house off Main Street had been chosen to serve as S1 Architects headquarters. The quaint structure just a couple of buildings down from the Bed and Breakfast as charming as the majority of houses in the area. After parking at the B&B and advising Belinda of their return, Nikita and Walter walked over to S1 perusing the property. Nikita almost squealing with glee at the beautiful construction and architectural details both inside and outside.

Entering the white weathered door after passing an enclosed porch, a white canvas of potentiality as far as interior design was concerned, Nikita stood quietly absorbing further the home with its charming foyer, "Hmm Walter, perhaps Michael and I can use this home instead of buying new."

"That's up to you two Sugar, there are 3 bedroom and baths upstairs, go look." And Nikita moved up the stairs taking them two steps at a time.

Walter moved to what would have been the family room and found Birkoff on the floor already setting up some equipment. Taking in the arrangement of the office furniture and of the drafting tables Walter was satisfied. There was no way that Nikita would think this as bogus. Having Nikita move into this house would help contain her in a secure place away from the constant threat the mansion could pose.

Walter smiled at Birkoff who had now moved to the computer area, the image of Roberta Wirth disappearing from the screen at the flick of a button, "Hey amigo."

The kid absentmindedly raised a hand returning the salutations and Walter repeated himself, "Hey amigo, you are mas macho. . .gracias!" Walter grinned at how clever he was as he spun around pointing at what Birkoff had accomplished.

"Oh yeah. . . yeah Walter." Birkoff responded at the man's thanks for having set up the office.

"What are you listening to that has all your attention, who was that brunette beauty on the screen." Walter asked and just got a raised eyebrow from the young man for Nikita had entered the room, "Hi Sugar!"

Nikita looked out the window to the outside over Walter's head, watching the suspicious Chevrolet now parked in the bakery across the street. Bringing her eyes back to the inside, she counted two drafting desks and the computer area, "Hi Walter. Is this also Michael's office?"

Walter answered, thinking fast, "Yeah, he'll just share desks with one of us. So how are you doing, did you see the rest of the house?

Nikita realizing Walter must have seen the questioning glance to the outside answered, "I'm okay, why do you ask?"

Walter answered, not letting on, "Mmmmm. . .. You look just as beautiful as ever, that's all."

Birkoff jumped right in, "So, I gather you had a very good time on your day off?"

Walter put an arm around Nikita and now faced the outside trying unobtrusively to see what she had been looking at, "No, good doesn't cover it. It transcends good, great, excellent, on its way to splendido."

"Walter, it seems we are not going to be able to see each other again, I think Michael is getting suspicious – that car has been following us all day." Nikita half jokingly said pointing to the Chevrolet.

"Detectives ha? Well let's go check it out." Walter said to Nikita.

Like if by magic (or Birkoff alerting the security detail) Walter and Nikita standing on the porch watched as the man and woman got off the Chevrolet and greeted a younger couple with a baby coming out of the bakery. A conversation ensued, the group laughed, the woman on the Security detail moved into the bakery exiting moments later with bread in her hands. The man and the younger couple still talked by the Chevrolet as Nikita and Walter approached them, eavesdropping in their conversation.

The young man with the baby asked a question and the man that drove the Chevrolet said, "You know you are right, Chattanooga is far, but I just wanted to see her this once. She's got a life of her own teaching at the University. But it was, um. . ." Nikita was satisfied it was a coincidence; across the street Birkoff had made sure that this never happened again.

//////

Now Birkoff continued with the monitoring that Walter and Nikita had interrupted with their arrival. Michael had ordered the task and Birkoff was going to make sure he recorded and saved every bit of info for Michael. Birkoff had not listened to the recordings since he had no time and was sure he would eventually get to listen to the CDs. The young man put aside the disk marked Roberta Wirth and inserted another one after marking it Charles Sands. Birkoff thought this was a good gig Michael had assigned to him, he had become the librarian of all things Section specifically to record the comings and goings of Roberta Wirth and Charles Sands.

----

Charles Sands was being returned to Section One by Operations and Michael who had retrieved him after their visit to Off Site-Committee, speaking with Roberta Wirth and meeting with George. Michael had accompanied Operations without knowing as to why or where. Now Michael silently watched the interchange between Paul Wolfe and the equally aged Charles and realized by the dynamics of the relationship between these two men that they respected each other. Michael knew that the relationship between them was equal and old.

As with everything in the organization silence reigned, very few words were exchanged during the two hour long flight back to Section. Standing like three members of the Matrix, perfect posture, black clothing and dark glasses, the three men faced the sliding metal door that would allow them to enter the underground facilities of the new Section One. Charles Sands held his breath as he entered Van Access, where he knew that beyond loomed a similar place to the one he left behind many years before.

/////

The door to Madeline's office slid open as the solitary black clad figure stepped down into the modern and austere room. Even with the lighted wall that housed her precious bonsai collection, Madeline still missed her warm two-story office in the Paris facility. Facing the center isle that housed her orchids, clipping dead leaves with a tiny pair of scissors, Madeline realized that Charles had walked back into her life.

"Did you want to see the report on Belize?" Charles Sands after a very long separation from his wife Madeline asked as if he had seen her the day before.

Madeline returned to her desk punching in the video and audio block, her chocolate colored eyes as warm as Charles remembered them. Saying matter of factly, "Sit down. Granting personal favors for other operatives violates the Code. May I have the pictures, please?"

Charles without blinking handed her the camera, as an always polite and often cold Madeline added, "Thank you."

He didn't try to deny her accusations, but repeated, "I told you already Madeline, this – calling me back – is a bad idea."

Madeline asked, "Bad idea for whom?"

"I took the pictures because Paul said it would not hurt since I was going to be in the country anyway." Charles spoke softly, distinctly, just another debrief.

Madeline ignored Charles and handing him new photos that better met her purpose ordered, "Please give these to Operations instead, and tell him these are the photographs you took." She said, continuing, "Why is there a contact number in the camera's text field, did you put it in for him?"

"Yeah, here." Charles handed Madeline a second disk with video and sadly smiled saying, "Madeline. . ."

"No Charles, not now." She inserted the disk and prodded the image while looking up at the screen - business as usual, as if it was all they had in common. "I'll have to review your record before I decide whether I'm going to put you in abeyance or send you back out into the field. - How was it out there Charles?"

After all this time she was so cold towards him and he understood her unspoken threat, "It was okay, but without you. . . I didn't have a good time." He said sarcastically.

Madeline trying the disk in another port instantaneously saw a beautiful tropical garden appear on the screen of her desktop. The distinctive voice and presence of Paul Wolfe permeated the room along with the high-class voice and figure of a woman who had obviously been beautiful in her youth, she said, "I can't believe you're here, that it's you. It's been such a long time."

Paul Wolfe smiled, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder, "Corrine, I'm here, and it is me."

Corrine was Paul Wolfe's one and only wife and the mother of his son Stephen. Her dark hair elegantly rested on her shoulders as she shyly continued, "The years have been hard, I'm afraid I'm not the woman I used to be."

Paul kissed her cheek, "Don't say that Corrine, you're still beautiful." Paul put a hand on her chin, "There's nobody prettier than you, not then and not now.."

The conversation between Paul and Corrine continued and Madeline watched the screen, her face a study in controlled rage and jealousy. Charles was reminded of their relationship past and present; he felt nothing for Madeline and vice versa. It was too late for them now, and perhaps too late for her and Paul.

Corrine continued, "So what have you been doing all these years? I was so glad to get your call, to find out you were not dead as I had been told."

Operations answered looking down, wanting desperately to share his present with this woman who shared his past, "Uh - consulting, working for different companies. I want to tell you about my life, but I can't." He said throwing caution to the wind.

"I see, were you involved in something bad?" Corrine prodded, "Steven thinks of you as a man of distinguished valor, his father the War Hero. He has your medals; I wouldn't want him to learn something like this. . . Oh God, we are still married, I am a bigamist."

"Oh, no. I'm not a criminal or anything like that. I work at a place that doesn't exist. No, I mean it - it exists. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? I - I work for an organization called Section One. It's not important. Not now, it's not important."

Then Paul found his lost compassion and assured his innocent wife, "You are not a bigamist Corrine, I am a ghost, I don't exist, do you understand?" Paul had to confess to the woman, she would have been crazy with worry for the rest of her life. She nodded and he moved forward kissing his wife with reverence one last time.

The love that existed between them now a bond that would always remain, "Give this letter to my son, tell him it was found by the Postal Services lost after all these years. It allows him closure, like I am giving you now. I prefer if Steven continues to think I am dead, it is better that way."

Madeline hit the pause button and looking up at Charles Sands asked, "Why did you make this video? Who have you told about this?"

Charles smiled, now he was in control, "You do love him don't you?" A rhetorical question, "I know how this has to end – I mean Paul and Corrine and Steven. . . I just granted his wish to see her and, uh. . .say his proper goodbyes. Not only for what Paul now owes me, but also because of what happened to us. . . the distance created by this place, by you."

"Charles I. . . this meeting should have never taken place." Madeline said.

"And why couldn't this meeting happen? Why not? Because you say it can't?" He wanted Madeline to understand, "You know that during my whole life with you I - I lived with a stranger who couldn't hear me, couldn't talk to me. But today when I saw you, here, next to your orchids. . . it was like I saw you for the first time and all those horrible things . . . just gone. I've never seen you through those eyes. . ."

Charles took a zip of water and continued, "Corrine needed to forgive Paul; he needed to see her. That's why he was looking for her. He needed to say goodbye to Corrine, to his vows to her, so he could allow himself to love you. Leave it alone Madeline, get over it. The Wolfes found closure, I think we did also." Charles Sands said standing about to walk out and leave Madeline to her thoughts.

Madeline whispered stopping Sandss before he punched in the code to exit the office, "Thanks for coming in. From what I've been reading, it appears you have completed a letter-perfect operation after all these years. I am sorry, please sit down."

Charles Sands turned and stepped down again into Madeline's web, "No, thank you."

The beautiful brunette moved around the desk and positioned her behind on it facing the standing man, offering him a seat again by waving at the chair. She said, "For every one of us in here, there comes a time when we get confused, when we think we're living two separate lives. We tear ourselves apart trying to reconcile them."

Madeline smiled and stood facing the silent man, it was a game she loved to play with him from way back when – face to face the playing field was level, "See, there aren't two parts of my life anymore. This isn't a job, I can't go home at night and be someone else. I've said it all before, but now it's real for me. And Paul – the man - doesn't exist, not really."

Charles sat feeling sorry for what Madeline had become, "Isn't it enough that you do what they ask of you and not what you ask of yourself? Madeline sat on the chair next to Charles, her hands demurely folded on her lap, her head down as she spoke, "I will continue doing what my father asks, you miss my point. I can't hide who I am from the people that I care about. What I am telling you is that I can't care about Paul and keep it from him. The choice is mine; either love him openly or stop loving him all together. You can go now."

Charles stood and started to exit one more time, but stopped when he realized Madeline was following, so he said embracing her, "The world outside these walls is an illusion. It's not really there for us because we're ghosts. But Madeline, we can be spirited ghosts or lonely fiends, that my dear is up to us." Charles Sands walked out of Madeline's life forever.

-----

In an adjacent room Operations sat in front of a blackened screen, allowing the sound of the obviously blocked feed to Madeline's office play above his grief stricken face. He was afraid, conflicted and even sad with the turn of events. He had loved two women in his life, Corrine and Madeline. He smiled, both strong women who had up to that moment been his weakness. It was time to get a grip; Paul Wolfe didn't know how many more Agency tests he could withstand.

Charles Sands rendezvoused with Paul Wolfe on SL4, only Ops had access to that level. Charles communicated with Operations for all those years on the outside. They had formed a bond of sorts for they shared many important parts of their lives. Charles had been loyal to Paul and Paul knew this was time to pay the Piper handing Sandss the cushy job that was Section 3 – a research facility.