"I don't think so," Madeline allowed her inner amusement to break out in a smile. "That'll be all."

Nikita stared at her for a long moment, then left the room. Madeline turned to her computer with satisfaction. It was unlikely that this would be the end of the struggle, but the ante had just been raised. She looked forward to seeing how Michael dealt with this hand. Her smile broadened. She had no worries; in fact, she had several aces in place that he wouldn't be expecting.

*******

Valerie was on her way out of Section, when she decided to drop by Birkoff's station. His eyes sparkled as he saw her coming.

"Hello," she greeted him warmly.

"Hi, Valerie," he smiled.

"Are you very busy right now?" she inquired.

He scowled for a half-second, "I do have to finish this, but I'm never too busy to talk to you."

She dimpled prettily, "I'm so glad. It's not easy being the new person around here, but everyone has been so nice."

"I can't see anyone being mean to you," he said sincerely.

She saw him take a deep breath before plunging in, "In fact, I was wondering if you'd like to get together some time outside of Section?"

"That would be wonderful," she encouraged.

He brightened, "How about tonight, then?"

She frowned. Tonight was out of the question as she had already planned on meeting Walter.

"I'm sorry Birkoff, tonight's not very good for me," seeing the disappointment on his face, she suggested, "how about tomorrow night?"

Once again his face grew sunny, "That would be perfect...I know this great restaurant down by the river."

"Sounds romantic," she laughed. "I'll look forward to it then."

She walked away, leaving him staring after her. She chuckled to herself. So far so good - everything was going according to plan.

*******

Mahleah walked by Munitions but Walter wasn't there. She kept wandering, waving at Birkoff as she glided by Com. She knew she was just trying to put off the inevitable - soon she would have to meet Mac and try to make him see how dangerous their whole situation was. It could possibly be the most difficult fight of her life and she would be facing her most dangerous opponent: herself.

She had already dreamed about having this conversation on the plane ride back to Section. She had begged, ordered, and cajoled Duncan to leave but he wouldn't listen to her. As dreams go, it hadn't been as bad as she feared reality would prove eventually. She even remembered him saying he'd be with her always. She hoped that was meant in a figurative sense because she needed him physically out of Paris as fast as she could get him to pack.

As she walked past Michael's office, she saw him through the blinds and decided to talk to him. She knocked on the door, and after a long pause, she heard him say to come in.

She saw his look of surprise as she walked in and shut the door behind her. She laughed faintly, "Shocked that I didn't just barge in?"

"It is your standard operating procedure," he noted.

"True," she sat down. "So, have you been raked over the coals yet?"

He nodded, but she could tell he was in no mood to discuss it, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

"What's Nikita think about your going out on a limb for her?"

"I don't know, she went home," he informed her.

She took in this information, then asked, "Aren't you going after her?"

He sighed, a definite sign of mental anguish she thought, and finally replied, "I've told her how I feel. Now it's up to her. I can't force her to love me."

She rolled her eyes, "No," she agreed. "You can't force her to love you, but what's that got to do with anything? She does love you - she's just scared of the repercussions. Haven't you told her time and again how impossible relationships are inside these walls? You were her mentor, maybe you trained her too well."

"I was right," he said softly.

Her eyes glared at him, "Don't say that! I don't buy that argument for a minute. You're not scared of Operations or Madeline; you're hurt because she rejected you. This is all about wounded ego and that's not an excuse. You just risked your career in Section for her. Do you regret that?"

"No," he said firmly.

She leaned into his desk, "I didn't think so. Well, you've let her know how you feel the best way you could. Now, stop playing games and go to her. Ask her how she feels. Don't let her go, simply because she was the first woman to ever kick you out of her bed."

A faint smile haunted his lips, "Even you didn't do that."

She chuckled, "Yeah, well, if you behave in her bed the way you behaved in mine, she might kick you out again."

He raised an eyebrow, "I thought I behaved like a perfect gentleman with you and restrained myself admirably."

"Exactly my point," she teased for a moment, then dropped back into serious mode. "Musashi, isn't your lover worth fighting for?"

He touched her hand on the desk between them. "Mine is," he said steadily. "How about yours?"

She stared back at him wordlessly, not knowing how to answer that question.

Part Nine

As Michael knocked on Nikita's door, his heart was racing. If she sent him away this time, he wouldn't come back. Surely, though, she felt the same way he did.

Despite the fact that she had to have seen him on her security monitor, she only opened the door a crack. She looked at him cautiously and asked, "What's up?"

He made no sudden moves that might cause her to slam the door in his face, but quietly asked, "Did they talk to you?"

"Well, what do you mean?" she responded.

He slowly took a step toward her saying, "Did Madeline suggest you stay away from me?"

He saw this had hit home.

"She called it a Type One Directive," he was informed.

He stared into her eyes until she looked away, but his gaze continued to caress her face. "And how did you respond?"

"I didn't," she quickly shot back.

He mentally braced himself and went for the telling points, "They don't want us to be together."

"No," she agreed, "they don't."

"How about you?" he finally asked.

This was the question he'd come to ask. Anything else was irrelevant to him. If she didn't want him now, he would respect her wishes and never ask again.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then leaned her face against the door sighing. After that initial hesitation, she opened the door fully.

"Come in," she invited.

He entered the apartment and waited patiently for her to shut the door. Then they stood awkwardly for a moment. Their relationship had just taken a serious step. No longer were they the operatives frustrated from unresolved sexual tension, or the couple enjoying the first joyous moments of courtship. A corner had been turned tonight and in their defiance of Section a commitment had been forged. Yet, still they stood on its precipice momentarily, uncertain how to proceed.

Michael broke the stalemate by reaching for her hand and pulling her closer to him.

"Kita," he said hoarsely.

She shivered and put her arms around him. They moved together - their lips quietly greeted each other then dispensed with the formalities in open exploration.

******

All the way to the cottage, Mahleah pondered Michael's words. Was she guilty of the same fear that had been keeping Nikita away from Michael? She thought there was a profound difference between them in that Michael belonged to Section, and Duncan did not.

"Is your lover worth fighting for?"

Of course he was, without question. Had she been relying too much on their Immortality to see them through this whole situation? She'd been thinking breaking off with him now would be bearable because, after all, they had forever, didn't they? No, she sadly answered her own question, they didn't. Just because the possibility existed that they could spend centuries together didn't mean that fact was carved in stone. Michael and Nikita had Section to contend with but for her and Mac there was always the Game.

She had been exceedingly careful in making sure to elude any surveillance, yet she couldn't help but feel, when she reached her destination, that she was being watched. Although she examined the area closely she couldn't spot anyone and so put it down to her justifiably paranoid imagination.

Instead of climbing the wall tonight, she was on the right side of the block to go through the gate. As she passed the honeysuckle he had brought from her faraway childhood home, she paused. The bush was thriving: its leaves were green and healthy and beginning to spread out. The vibrant orange blooms were gone now - their delicate beauty but a memory - but with nurturing they would return again in late spring next year. She could feel Duncan's presence inside waiting for her and moved on.

She stood by the door just looking at him for a moment. She loved him for his inner qualities and his image was permanently branded on her brain so it wasn't often that the sheer force of his physical presence struck her. Dear God, the man was simply beautiful. As if to tantalize her with what she would miss, every feature caught her eye, and her heart, all over again.

Ironically he had chosen to play a song that already began the argument she was expecting tonight: Smokey Robinson's "I Second That Emotion."

Maybe you wanna give me kisses sweet But only for one night with no repeat Maybe you'd go away and never call And a taste of honey is worse than none at all Oh little girl

He caught her staring and grinned, "I hope that look means I'm on the menu tonight."

Her mouth had gone dry and she licked her lips, "Appetizer, main course, and dessert in one delicious package."

In that case I don't want no part Well that would only break my heart Well if you feel like loving me If you got the notion I second that emotion

He chuckled, "Shouldn't that be my line?"

She walked into his embrace, and just stood there enjoying the feeling of his arms around her.

Maybe you think that love will tie you down And you ain't don't have the time to hang around Maybe you think that love will make us fools And so it makes you wise to break the rules Oh little girl

"Rough day?" he whispered into her hair.

She squeezed him tighter, "Are there any other kind?"

"Oh yeah," he asserted. "There are normal days and then there are the ones when I don't get to see you. That's much worse."

In that case I don't want no part Well that would only break my heart But if you feel like loving me If you got the notion I second that emotion So if you feel like giving me A lifetime of devotion I second that emotion

She kissed him and chills went down her spine. Her feelings were too raw this evening, too intense. He was lingering, his lips sliding against hers and his tongue building a slow, sweet fire that ran through her nerves and clouded her brain. She made a small noise of protest. It was too much, insanity in fact. How could one kiss undo her willpower so completely?

He sensed her hesitation and pulled back, but didn't comment. Instead, he gestured to the stereo, which was now pouring out the opening notes to a familiar ballad, "Unchained Melody."

"Despite your fondness for originals, I figured the U2 version would set the mood better. I swear I think sometimes if you ever left me, it would be for Bono."

She laughed, "Well, he has a better voice and sense of humor than you, but I'm sure his wife would take offense."

Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time Time goes by so slowly and time can do so much - are you still mine?

He stretched out a hand, "Dance with me, mo chridhe."

I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me. Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea, to the open arms of the sea. Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me. I'll be coming home, wait for me."

Though it had been years since the last time they had actually danced together, their bodies still easily slipped into movement with each other. She pressed her cheek to his, and closing her eyes, wrapped herself in his warmth and familiar scent. His breath stirred her hair, and his right hand caressed her back as his left played with her fingers. She felt him shift and his mouth grazed her cheekbone and traveled down her neck. She leaned her head back and marveled at the trust that allowed her to give him free access to her throat. There were few people indeed that she gave that liberty - she had learned that much from her past.

Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time. Time goes by so slowly and time can do so much, are you still mine? I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me.

She pulled away, and he looked at her questioningly. She smiled and ran her hands along his shoulders, then began unbuttoning his shirt. She slowly ran her fingers into the tops of his trousers, catching the fabric and pulling it out. She began following the shirt around behind him, and repeating the gesture finished freeing the garment and pulled it off him. She blew softly between his shoulder blades and was rewarded by a shiver that set the muscles of his back to quivering. Just as they stilled, she bent and ran her lips up the flesh in his lower back, carefully avoiding the spine. She could hear him breathing harder. A mischievous gleam in her eyes, she slid a fingernail, ever so lightly, up his backbone.

He seemed to choke for a second, then quickly turned and pulled her into a hungry kiss. For the time being, reality and reason faded away beneath passion and pleasure.

********

Michael was falling into a light, contented sleep when he heard Nikita ask softly, "Why were you at Mahleah's apartment so long the other night?"

He forced his eyes open and replied, "She needed someone to talk to."

"Why?"

He yawned, and then told her, "Madeline has been asking questions about her boyfriend, and Davenport has been following her around the city."

He saw her frown as she digested this information. "I know Madeline insists on knowing everything that goes on in Section, but why would she send Davenport on surveillance?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

She was quiet for so long, he was about to think she'd finally gone to sleep, but she turned on her side away from him and said, "Michael, why wasn't Mahleah asked to be the one to audition at that club tonight? She has a lot more experience than I do."

Now, he frowned, "I'm not sure. I wondered why they sent her at all. She would have been useful if things had gone wrong, but there was nothing for her to do."

He could feel her nod, "I know, and there's something else. When I was getting my dress and wig, Madeline came in to inspect my choices. During the course of the conversation she happened to mention that Mahleah refused to perform and since she was level three and I was level two, I was now expected to carry out the assignment."

He sat up a little in bed, "Madeline never just 'mentions' anything - there's always a reason." In fact, a very ugly scheme was beginning to unravel in his mind.

She seemed to pick up his thoughts, "What's she up to, Michael?"

"It's payback for Bergomi," he said grimly. "The three of us made a powerful team and now she's trying to sow dissension between us. She only said that about Mahleah to cause friction between the two of you."

"I should have seen it before," Nikita said grimly. "Level three, my ass. She's never hesitated to have you do any dirty work and you're level five. So, what should we do now?"

He slid down in bed and wrapping an arm over her, snuggled up behind her. "We don't let her succeed, and we don't let her worry us. Sleep now, Kita. Madeline will still be around in the morning."

**********

Mahleah opened her eyes to find Duncan propped on his elbow beside her.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

He began playing with a strand of her hair. "I just figured it was my turn to watch you sleep," he said.

"Hmmm, why don't you join me?" she suggested.

He ignored the question and said, "I meant to tell you about Morgan."

"Oh yeah," she agreed. "Morgan MacLeod, your first sword-master. What about him?"

"Morgan was a woman," he informed her.

Her eyes had been trying to close again, but now they snapped back open. "Oh, really? Didn't you say she was your teacher before you became Immortal? That's an odd occupation for a Highland woman, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me about her before?"

"I had my reasons," he replied, "but I wanted to tell you about her now because you should know how much you resemble her."

"Is that so?" she sat up in bed. "In what way?"

He examined her closely, "Same height, same color eyes, although her hair wasn't as lovely as yours."

She smiled, "Well, that's good to know."

"Yeah, as you pointed out she was considerably out of the norm for a Scottish woman, so she pretended to be a man. That's how she became my teacher. She was one of the first women I ever saw naked."

"What?!"

"Well, Cassandra was the first one, but I gained a pretty good lesson in anatomy one day. Morgan was bathing in the loch and I got quite a show." He eyed her breasts and added, "Your figures are similar, too."

She was beginning to get angry. Was he trying to tell her that all these years he'd only been with her because she reminded him of an old flame?

He recognized the look and calmly said, "I thought you had the right to know because what you're thinking right now isn't true."

"You don't know what I'm thinking!" she fumed.

"Oh yes, I do," he chuckled. "I can still read your face like an open book."

"So, was Morgan as readable?" she asked sarcastically.

"No," he shook his head. "She was a great deal older than you, and had learned to hide both her thoughts and her secrets quite well. Actually, after I discovered she was a woman, I called her Morgaine."

She was comparing their names, "Mahleah, Morgaine, oh God, did you have to name me after her?"

"I didn't name you," he calmly said. "Your parents did."

"But you suggested Mahleah, and they liked it," she pointed out. She could feel her cheeks flaming hot with anger.

"I didn't name you after Morgaine," he told her. "In fact, that leads me to what you were thinking: my feelings for you are quite separate from what I felt in the past for her."

She scowled, "How can I believe that?"

"Because our relationship is based upon equality."

She looked at him dubiously.

"It's true. Morgaine was my teacher, and our connection in many ways never progressed beyond that level. I think that you and I have progressed beyond the mentor-student relationship. It took us a long time, I admit, but the events of the last few years have had an effect on both of us."

She stared at him. In truth, she thought he still reverted occasionally into his old role, but those lapses were much more rare these days. He seemed to value her opinion on the choices in their lives, all of which meant, damn it, that if she were to reciprocate she would have to let him be the one to make the decision about his leaving Paris.

She swallowed, "Duncan, I really think you should leave as soon as possible. It's only a matter of time before Madeline finds out that we're seeing each other. She's already threatened you once, and I know that you can handle most things they would throw at you, but these are not people that you really want to tick off."

"I realize that," he cupped her face in his hands. "I know you're worried that they'll stumble upon Immortality and turn us into guinea pigs, but we're not going to let that happen. If they come after me, I will fight back, but if they kill me I'll disappear like a phantom. I won't take the chance that they'll discover what you are. Can you accept that?"

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, "My head keeps telling me to send you away, but my heart wants you here in my bed. I guess I just have to deal with the fact that it's not my choice to make."

He lowered himself back down to the bed, and brought her with him. Laying her head upon his chest, he kissed her face gently.

She listened to his heart beating and started to say, "Duncan, promise me..."

He cut her off, "We're not making promises we can't keep. I love you, and I always will. That's all I know of tomorrow. Everything else we'll deal with as it comes."

She closed her eyes and said a prayer. She would respect his wishes, but it didn't alleviate her fears.

********

Davenport flagged down a cab. He had seen all he needed. Mahleah was seeing Duncan MacLeod and now he would have to report to Madeline. As the taxi sped away into the night, he had two fervent hopes: this intel would be enough to save Jennie's life and neither Mahleah nor MacLeod would die because of this betrayal.

Part Ten

Davenport hated himself for what he was about to do. Rather surprised that Madeline was still up at this late hour, he presented the results of the digital photographs he'd taken outside the cottage.

She studied the images with an air of satisfied silence, and he felt relief. He had wondered if what he had brought in as proof would be satisfactory. Since both Mahleah and MacLeod had proven so elusive, he had only managed to take shots of each of them as they entered the cottage separately. He'd been too afraid of getting caught to come any closer. At least there was a time and date stamp on each picture.

"You didn't manage to get a shot of them together?" she finally inquired.

"No," he responded stiffly. "I felt it inadvisable to attempt closer surveillance. They were continually on their guard and it was quite difficult to go unnoticed." Besides, he added inside his head, I'd violated their privacy enough.

"I suppose it was," she smiled. "Good work, Chris. Your assistance will no longer be required in this matter."

She clearly expected him to leave, but he had to know, "What will happen to Jennie?"

Madeline politely raised an eyebrow, "She's perfectly safe for now, Chris. The only thing that could harm her now is you, but that won't happen, I'm sure. In fact, I'm recommending you lead the team going out this morning."

He stared at her, "I thought it was Michael's team?"

Her smile froze his bones to the marrow, "Oh no, Chris. Michael will be on your team. You'd better hurry and prepare. Operations expects your team to load at 4:45. Make sure you give Michael plenty of time to arrive. He's at Nikita's I believe."

Damn! Davenport thought as her left her office. Someday may that bitch experience an accounting for all the evil schemes she's contrived. Whatever wag had dubbed her "La Belle Dame sans Merci" after the Keats' poem was wickedly accurate. He sighed. What hope did he or any of his comrades have, much less a civilian like Jennie?

******

Walter moved into his storage area after carefully making sure no one was around Munitions. Valerie was leaning against shelves waiting for him.

When he reached her, she smiled and caressed his face, "It seems like it took you forever," she murmured.

"It was just three minutes," he said, stealing a kiss.

"It was too long," she protested, and they kissed again before Walter pulled away.

"No more," he told her, laughing. "Come on, not here."

Knowing Section's antipathy toward interpersonal relationships, he could imagine the kind of fuss that would be raised if they were caught.

"Why not?" Valerie pouted a little.

"Oh, it's.." hard to think with you stroking my face that way.

She gave him a wicked smile as if she'd heard the conclusion of the sentence, "It's been six hours."

"Yeah, it's just too dangerous, that's all." He looked around nervously. "It's bad enough I brought you back here."

"That's what makes you so exciting," she informed him, and began unzipping his jacket.

Unable to resist any more, Walter leaned in to kiss her, but froze when he heard a familiar voice say, "Hey Walter!"

He pulled away from Valerie and attempted to compose himself before answering, "Yeah, Birkoff?"

"Where's my PDA?" came the impatient response.

His mind was whirling as he cleared his throat, "Just hang loose."

Valerie gently wiped lipstick from his mouth and he told Birkoff, "I'll be right there!"

He backed away from Valerie and gestured for her to be quiet. She smiled at him and as he started to walk away she pinched his rear. He jumped and pushed her hand away, then hurried to Birkoff.

He grabbed an item at random off one of the shelves and took it with him to the gate.

"Sorry, I forgot," he apologized to his friend, "I was checking the inventory."

Birkoff scowled, "You did that yesterday."

"I had to double run the scanners," he responded. He pulled out a PDA and checked it.

Birkoff was practically bouncing in his haste to be away, "Come on, I want to leave early tonight. I'm in a hurry."

Walter laughed and said, "You got a hot date?"

"Actually, I do," came the reply.

Walter stopped and stared at his young friend. Well, it's about time, he thought. You've been moping over Claire too long.

"Who is it?" he asked curiously, and his heart sank as Birkoff whispered, "It's Valerie, the new profiler."

"Huh?" he was shocked and confused, but Birkoff was oblivious.

"Anyway, I gotta go, thanks."

Walter stood stock-still in dismay over this new development. Valerie was seeing Birkoff on the side? He suddenly began to feel his age in a way he never had before, but tried to shake it off. Walking back to her, he saw her smile at him, but announced, "We can't do this here."

She saw that his mood had changed, and touched him, "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing," he said airily. "I just thought maybe we could do something...romantic...just you and me."

She looked around, then grabbed his jacket and pushed him against the shelves. Leaning forward, she began to stroke her hands across his chest. Her tone was practically a purr, "I don't see anyone else here."

"Uh, no," he stammered. "I meant, I meant..."

She kissed him again, then leaned back and asked, "What?"

"Well," he explained weakly, "Maybe we could go and have dinner, hmmm?"

She seemed surprised. He leaned in, kissed her and added, "Tonight."

Valerie hesitated, rubbing her nose against his, "Tonight?"

"Uh huh," he agreed.

She leaned back again, "Tonight is not so good."

He persisted, "Well, you're not on. I mean what's the problem?"

"I'm busy," she said firmly. She saw how unhappy that answer made him, and continued her caresses, "Look Walter, I'm never going to ask you for your itinerary. Please, don't ask for mine." She kissed him again, and then pulled away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She smiled and left. "Sure," Walter said, a little desolated.

He rested against the shelving and ruminated over this unexpected turn of events. It was true that he had thought of Valerie, at first, as nothing more than a pleasant distraction, but he realized now that he wanted more. Heaven help him, he wasn't interested in a relationship based on nothing more than meaningless sex. He had been looking forward to romance, but most importantly companionship. He didn't really want a lover who rolled over when the deed was done, and began putting on her clothes.

The truth was he wanted another Mahleah - someone he could talk and laugh with, someone who would play chess, and discuss old movies and sing in bed. It was disconcerting to understand that Valerie wanted none of that. Apparently her idea of a good time was wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

She was young he rationalized. Perhaps he could show her how attractive other aspects of courtship could be -- if he had the opportunity. Anger swelled up in him to think that Birkoff was going out on a date with her tonight. Birkoff, of all people! Didn't the young punk understand how much his best friend was attracted to her? How could he make a play for her?

A flicker of apprehension passed through him. Many people only thought of Seymour Birkoff as a computer geek with about as much sex appeal as an Intel Pentium Processor. Walter knew better. Birkoff was shy, it was true, but he was sensitive and sweet. Many girls found him appealing, if he'd only get his head out of his monitor and notice them. So why did he have to focus on the woman Walter was sleeping with?

*********

In the Perch, Operations listened to Madeline's report with great interest. So, Mahleah was secretly meeting with an old lover? This intel pleased him, rather than making him angry. Such an intense passion was exciting to him, but also placed her in a delicate situation. She would now be in a weak position and they would be able to exploit that. Of course, the first step was using this against his would-be replacement.

"So, Michael and Nikita ignored the Type One Directive?" he asked. "How unsurprising. How is your profile proceeding?"

Madeline calmly stared out the glass at Section, "There has been noticeable friction reported between Nikita and Mahleah. Walter and Birkoff have just begun dating the same woman. When this combines with his upcoming loss of status, Michael will be facing some serious setbacks. He will begin to doubt himself and his support system is crumbling."

"Even though Nikita doesn't like Mahleah right now, they'll both be offering moral support to him," Operations pointed out.

"Nikita will not like the pains she sees Michael undergoing," Madeline responded. "Eventually, she'll understand what she needs to do to make it stop. As for Mahleah, I think it's clear that we have the key to her cooperation in the palm of our hands."

He chuckled and glanced down at the pda with its image of Duncan MacLeod, "Indeed we do," he agreed pleasantly.

Part Eleven

Michael absently caressed Nikita's shoulders. The water in their bubble bath was beginning to cool off, and they would have to get out of the tub soon, but right now he just wanted to lie there with her pressed against him. The last few days had been a considerable test of his self-control.

First, they had stripped him of his level five status and replaced him with Chris Davenport. Then, they'd taken away his office, as if those things really mattered to him. Now, however, they were relegating him to the sidelines -- putting him in a backup position where he hadn't been able to help protect the members of his team. Nikita had just told him that these things were bothering him, and she was right, but not in the way she meant.

Authority meant little to him, despite the popular perception of his character. As he'd told Nikita, he wanted to do everything he did well. That mattered to him, but not as much as the feeling of powerlessness that his latest assignment had given him. He did hate being out of control when it meant that lives were lost and there had been no way for him to help. Aside from Nikita, the only thing that had kept sane in Section was the feeling that he was aiding people: the innocents Nikita always wanted to protect, but his friends and comrades as well. He tried to create profiles that would allow the maximum number possible to return from each mission unless given orders to the contrary. He used the skill he had in being able to think on his feet to avoid disaster whenever possible. Now, Operations and Madeline had made them impossible for him.

He knew he should talk to Nikita about it. She would understand his frustration, but he feared that it would ultimately take her from him. He refused to let Section take her away from him, like it had with everything else he cared about.

This reluctance to share his feelings with her created an acute sense of loneliness within him. Lately, all of his friends had been distant and preoccupied. Birkoff was rarely around, and seemed to fluctuate between some sort of inner happiness and misery. Walter didn't seem to have enough energy for a smile these days, and was more likely to snap someone's head off than joke. Mahleah was in the middle of one of her club only stretches when she spent little time in Section. If he caught a glimpse of her, she too, looked pensive and downcast - he suspected that she was worried about MacLeod. He had vowed to make sure that nothing happened to the man for her sake, but now he was powerless to help her either. He could feel in his bones that something would have to give and soon. He prayed that it wouldn't be him.

******

Seymour Birkoff felt elated and miserable. He never would have dreamed that someone as beautiful and sensuous as Valerie would choose to go out with him, but it hurt to know that she was also seeing Walter on the side. Walter! The very idea that he was in competition with his best friend for this woman was rapidly eating away his stomach lining.

He hadn't dated since Claire left so suddenly. Every woman he met had simply not compared to her gentle loveliness. Although she hadn't contacted him, he knew in his heart that if she came back to Paris, it would kill him not to see her. What did that say that Valerie meant to him, then: exciting companionship and a passionate night under the sheets?

She was definitely an energetic lover, he thought with a grin. She was actually a little more like his old girlfriend, Gail, in that department. All in all, though, the one night he'd been able to spend with Claire had been infinitely more special. Their lovemaking had been heartfelt and mutually satisfying. She was a very giving partner, sensitive to his needs, and he'd relished the chance to respond in kind.

He sighed, no he wasn't over Claire yet, it seemed. It was so gratifying to be with Valerie, though, wonderful to be pursued. Where did that leave Walter?

Like him, Walter had been missing the companionship of his last girlfriend. Valerie was the first woman that Birkoff knew of Walter dating since the Madeline sanctioned breakup of his romance with Mahleah. Perhaps he was just on the rebound. If that were the extent of his emotional involvement, Birkoff wouldn't feel so guilty about the whole triangle.

He was still rather angry with the older man for his callous declarations that Valerie would dump Birkoff for him. The words, "You're not even there for the dumping," still rang in his ears. That had been a cruel thing to say, and most unlike his friend.

He hardened his resolve. If a competition was what Walter wanted, that's what he would get and may the best man win. He was no slouch in the romance department - after all, hadn't Walter taught him everything he knew?

*******

Mahleah sat at a table in "The Copperhead" and stared down at her bottle of water. Tony had tried to give her something stronger to "cheer" her up, but she'd refused and stuck to spring water. The bartender sat across from her now along with his fellow watcher, Joe, whom she addressed now.

"Joe, you need to get out of here," she told him. "I can't take any chances that they might have discovered the link between us."

"Sorry, Mahleah," he replied, firmly but pleasantly. "I have things to take care of in Paris, remember? I own a club that needs looking after, and besides I can't leave until MacLeod does. You know that."

"Let Adam or Amanda manage the club," she protested. "Take Mac with you. I'd pay."

Tony chuckled, "Are you bored already? Surely there are other ways of breaking up with him."

She groaned, "I don't want to break up, I just want him to stay alive."

"Have you talked to him about this?" Joe asked.

She nodded, "He won't go - keeps insisting that whatever happens the two of us can handle together."

Joe smiled, "I recall the days when you got upset with him because he thought he had to handle all the tough situations. Hey, at least you've broken him of that bad habit."

She laid her head on her hands, "Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks? The trouble is he makes it sound so reasonable that I find myself agreeing, then after he's gone all the old fears come back."

"It's called love," Joe told her gently. "It's not something that's strictly a province of Immortals you know. We mortals have to deal with it too. Every time someone you love walks out the door, you're faced with the knowledge that it could be the last time. It's the price you pay for letting someone into your heart: you care what happens to him. The thought of pain of any kind being inflicted on him hurts you twice as much. You can't let it control you."

She stared at him, "How'd you get to be so wise in so short a time?"

He grinned, "A steady diet of the blues and clean living."

Tony cleared his throat, "Speaking of music, are you planning on gracing us with your voice anytime tonight?"

Sighing, she rose. "Just for you, Tony."

She went to the band, who'd been looking rather bored, and gave them a song. They nodded, and turning to the mike she began a favorite of her boss, "Dream On" by Aerosmith.

Every time when I look in the mirror All these lines on my face getting clearer The past is gone It went by, like dusk to dawn Isn't that the way Everybody's got the dues in life to pay.

Tony, never taking his eyes off the stage, casually asked Joe, "Have you ever wanted to live forever?"

"No," Joe shook his head.

"Never?"

He gave the question more thought. There had been moments when Immortality would have been useful. Being Duncan MacLeod's watcher had brought more than its share of danger. Yet the hidden costs of the gift nagged at him.

I know nobody knows Where it comes and where it goes I know it's everybody's sin You got to lose to know how to win

"No," he answered again. "I can't stand the idea of losing everyone I've ever loved. I think it would be the most unbearable and lonely life there is."

Half my life's in books' written pages Lived and loved from fools and from sages You know it's true All these things come back to you.

Sing with me, sing for the years Sing for the laughter and sing for the tears Sing with me if it's just for today Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away.

"That's why you've pushed so hard for our favorite couple to stay together, isn't it?" Tony guessed.

Joe smiled, "I guess it is. I hate the idea of either of them being alone - besides have you ever met two people so perfect for each other?"

Tony shook his head laughing.

Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream yourself a dream come true. Dream on, dream on, dream on, and dream until your dream comes true.

A bit more soberly, the bartender continued, "I know that not having children would kill me inside. The thought that either Teresa or Shawn didn't exist is excruciating."

"Have you heard from him lately?" Joe asked.

Tony shook his head. "No. I think he's washed his hands of dear old dad. Maybe as he gets older, he'll realize why I was able to forgive Jacob."

There was a moment of sadness, which Joe tried to alleviate with a joke, "You know, I've always thought I'd hate looking in the mirror and never changing. How do Immortals stand it? I think watching a person grow older is fascinating. It's as if you can read a whole life story right there on a face."

Tony nodded, "It's a little spooky, isn't it? All that living, and not a trace of it anywhere but in their eyes."

Sing with me, sing for the years Sing for the laughter and sing for the tears. Sing with me, if it's just for today. Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away....

*****

Several blocks away, Chris Davenport was walking down the street brooding over his part in recent Section events, when he heard a noise. Looking down an alley, he spotted a small figure and moved toward it. It tried to dart past him, but he managed to snag an arm.

He discovered he was clutching a kid: a small boy, with tousled light brown hair sun-streaked with golden highlights, wide eyes full of fear, and a dirty face.

"Hey, I won't hurt you," he said soothingly. "My name's Chris. Who are you?"

The boy looked at him for a long moment before answering, "I'm Kenny."

Part Twelve

In the streetlights Kenny looked to be around ten years old, but in the wide blue eyes Davenport recognized the street-smart maturity of someone that'd been around and seen everything. He had a flash of memory of himself at that age, and remembered that finding Jennie had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn't just leave this child out on the streets.

What could he do though? The last thing he needed right now was someone else to worry about. Madeline had him stretched over a chopping block and just wanted an excuse to cut him to pieces. He would have to take the boy somewhere he would be cared for, but he didn't know of any place. He was usually looking to find someone, not nurture him. He looked around the neighborhood. Where could he go at this late hour to find help for this innocent kid?

Innocent kid - the words rang in his head, and coupled with the street signs hanging nearby allowed him to make a decision. He smiled, knowing exactly where to take the boy.

"Come on Kenny," he said softly. "Let's go find you some hot food and a place to sleep."

*******

Kenny walked beside the strange man, wondering where they were going. He sensed no danger or hostility from Chris. The man had that glow in his eyes that most people got when they thought they were helping out a young, defenseless child. God, he was so sick of it.

He wondered what Chris would think if he knew that far from being a sweet, young boy he was actually over eight hundred years old stuck in the body of a child that never aged. All of these do-gooders with their good intentions...they gave him milk and cookies and bedtime stories. It was enough to make him want to hurl. Actually it was the women who were the worst, not the men.

Men treated him like a "young man" usually, but women...they wanted to bathe him, and feed him, and tuck him in like a tiny tot. He'd spent eight hundred years trying to accept the fact that he would always be perceived as someone to be protected, someone who needed looking after. It still rankled. His mind, his intelligence, was that of a grown man - more so than any puny mortal actually. He'd lived longer than they could conceive and surpassed the expectations of all his kind. After all, child Immortals were supposed to be easy prey, yet he'd survived.

Amanda had taught him what he needed to know. Use your innocent face and vulnerability, she'd said. Don't let them hurt you. He'd been an excellent student, better even than she'd realized. She'd been taken from him by some Norman soldiers and he'd ran away friendless and alone with only his wits for company. A few years ago he'd found her again, keeping company with Duncan MacLeod of all people!

She'd hugged him, and given him milk. She made him a bed on the couch, while she slept with MacLeod. Even she didn't understand that he wasn't a child any more. That misapprehension cleared up though, when he'd handcuffed her to a pipe and ran down to chop off her lover's head after giving her a kiss.

Unfortunately, her lock-picking skills were as acute as ever and she'd challenged him. She'd actually told him that if he killed MacLeod she would kill him. In the end, that bitch had betrayed him the way they all did eventually. One day they would pay, especially Duncan MacLeod. Amanda had chosen him: the younger man for God's sake. He was twice the Highlander's age.

He and Chris entered a building where Kenny assumed the man kept an apartment. His new "protector" certainly didn't talk much, but that could be considered a benefit. He was surprised when instead of unlocking a door, Chris knocked. Who were they going to see?

When the door opened, a blonde woman stared at them curiously. She was tall, with incredibly long legs and a model's figure. Kenny licked his lips. Great, another beautiful woman to coax him into watching Saturday morning cartoons, or whatever the hell they had here in France.

Chris appeared to be rather nervous. Kenny wondered why. Wasn't this his girlfriend?

"Nikita, I need to ask you a favor," he said.

She raised an eyebrow, and looked at them both patiently.

"I found Kenny here roaming the streets and he obviously needs food and someplace to sleep. I couldn't take him with me and since your apartment was close I brought him. Could you keep him for a few days until I can find a better place for him?"

She examined Kenny closely, and his blood starting boiling. Handed off like an unwanted sack of potatoes once again, huh? "I thought I was staying with you?" he demanded. That would have worked out much better with his plans, but the only thing he wanted from Blondie here, she'd never give.

Chris looked down at him, "Trust me Ken, you'd be getting the better end of the deal here. She's a much better cook."

Nikita bit her lip, "I don't know Chris. Things are kind of crazy for me right now, you know?"

Chris looked into her bright blue eyes, "I know that, and I'm sorry, but he could use your help. Please."

She sighed and beckoned them inside.

"I'd better not," Chris said. "I have some plans to look over tonight."

She nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Chris left and Kenny found himself alone with Nikita. She closed the front door and looked at him.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked. Staring at him thoughtfully, she suggested, "I've got some steaks."

He felt surprise. Usually this kind of woman tried to fill him full of healthy vegetables, or "kiddy" foods like french fries and pizza.

"Sure," he agreed. "Sounds good. Got any beer to go with that?" Might as well get the milk issue out of the way.

She cocked her head to the side. Blue eyes met blue eyes squarely on, and she nodded, "Yeah, I do."

Hmmm, he thought. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Part Thirteen

As Mahleah walked by Munitions, Walter whistled. She smiled and walked over to him.

"What are you grinning at?" she asked.

"Just the sight of you in those jeans," he eyed her appreciatively. "You're looking mighty fine there, Mahleah darlin'. You know a man always likes to keep his hands full."

"Well, I don't have any problems in that area," she said a bit ruefully. "I'm afraid there's plenty to grab here."

He scowled at her, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I suppose."

"You're damn right nothing," he told her firmly. "You've got a gorgeous figure and I ought to know. So you're not scrawny like a supermodel or a 48 DD like some of the pin-up girls. You're a well-endowed natural woman."

"Oh yeah," she smacked her rear. "Well-endowed, indeed."

"Hey, those are child-bearing hips," he winked at her. He walked around to the other side of the workbench and missed her reply.

"They're wasted on me then."

"Don't tell me you're insecure about your looks," he continued. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

"Whatever," she replied.

He stared at her, "Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

She smiled, "Yeah they have, Walter, and I appreciate you're saying it, but I've discovered you can generally divide up the men who tell you that into two categories: the ones that love you and the ones that want to sleep with you. Now if you like someone they automatically become more attractive to you so that means little, and a man who's dying to know the color of your panties will say anything."

"How did you ever get to be so cynical?" he shook his head.

She patted him on the shoulder, "Don't worry Walter honey, I don't have an inferiority complex. It's just that at the end of the day, I have more important things to worry about."

"Yeah, why are you here? I notice you got dressed in such a hurry you didn't braid your hair," he pointed to her ponytail.

"I got called in," she said, "I'm not sure what's going on."

He frowned, "I hate to say it, but it's probably nothing good. Things have gone from bad to worse lately...look at Michael."

"Yeah, what the hell is going on?" she asked heatedly. "I heard he lost his class five status."

Walter nodded. "It's true. They're trying to break him because he won't give up Nikita."

She said something unpleasant under her breath that he pretended not to hear.

At that moment Birkoff walked up to her, "Mahleah, Operations wants to see you in the perch right away."

She immediately noticed that the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees when the two men looked at each other. She started to say something but Birkoff interrupted her by adding, "He seemed rather impatient."

She nodded, making a mental note to find out what was going on later. On her way to the perch, she passed a tall, slender woman who gave her a peculiar look. Mahleah racked her brain until she came up with a name: Valerie that was it, the new profiler. Now, what the hell was her problem? She was definitely going to check that out.

As she entered Operations' office, he smiled and motioned for her to approach him. While she walked over, he darkened the windows of the perch - a move that made her feel very uneasy.

"Mahleah, it seems we have some things to discuss," he began.

"Such as?" she asked politely.

"Such as your future position here in Section. You possess great potential - more than I've seen in a long time."

"Thank you." How exactly was she expected to respond to that? Oh, thank you sir, I certainly give it my all...yeah right. The man obviously wanted something.

"Unfortunately even the best operatives are not perfect," he proceeded. "We all have our frailties, our little human weaknesses."

She nodded.

"In a few days' time, you'll have to confront yours I'm afraid," he told her placidly.

"What do you mean?" she was confused.

"A couple of days from now, expect to have a meeting with both myself and Madeline. The subject of this discussion will be your personal involvement with a man named Duncan MacLeod. It seems that he's an old lover from your life before Section and you've resumed your romantic liaison with him despite the strict codes we have about avoiding contact with prior acquaintances."

She swallowed heavily. They knew then. Why was he telling her about this in advance, though?

Reading her mind, he smoothly said, "I'm telling you this now because there's a chance that you wouldn't have to give him up."

Her mouth nearly dropped open. Who do I have to kill, she nearly asked, but decided that wasn't a very safe question under the circumstances.

"In fact, I would be willing to overlook the association," he informed her.

"What's the price tag on this generous offer?" she asked hoarsely.

"Ah yes, the price," he extended a finger and stroked the side of her face. "I'm afraid Mr. MacLeod would have to share your favors."

Her heart froze for a moment. Was he serious? If she slept with him, he'd not only leave Duncan alone, but allow them to continue seeing each other? Boy, was she ever right earlier: a man on the make would promise anything. She took a step backwards, away from his touch.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," she said as calmly as she could.

"Oh, but I'm not just offering you your lover's life," he persisted. "You'll have much more power. You could ensure the safety of all those nearest and dear to you."

The bastard was saying that if she became his mistress she could make sure that Michael and Nikita were left alone and that Walter and Birkoff would be protected. As he said, it was a sweet deal, but dear God, she couldn't have sex with that man. To paraphrase a line from a favorite movie, she'd rather bang a boa constrictor. At least it wouldn't be slimy.

"I'm sorry," she repeated firmly, hiding her revulsion. "I've never slept my way into any position and I don't intend to start now."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "Be careful not to reject this offer out of hand. Think about it for a while."

She turned and began walking off when his voice made her pause one last time, "Madeline plans to offer you a deal of her own. I flatter myself that you'll like her terms even less than mine. Remember that when we meet again. If you wish to accept my bargain, tell us you've had a better offer and I'll handle it from there."

She left, her fists clenching in fury. She hurried out of Section without saying goodbye to any of her friends.

In college she'd had a friend who'd declared that everyone had their price. When asked what hers was, she'd laughed it off by saying, "More than you can afford." Now that theory was being put to the test. She'd rejected him outright, but now she would have to think about his proposition more seriously.

Could she truly afford to hold out when the lives of all she held dear were on the line? What was meaningless sex with Operations compared to ensuring that Duncan and his secrets were safe and Michael and Nikita would no longer be punished for having the audacity to love each other? Logically, she should take him up on this deal as it offered her everything she wanted in Section - if he would keep his end of the deal. Now, there was the problem: could she trust Operations?

Based on his track record she would have to say no, she couldn't. The man would say whatever was expedient at the time. He had no qualms over dishonesty or betrayal. What happened once he grew tired of her? She'd have made the sacrifice for nothing.

Then, of course, there was the million-dollar question: could she go through with it? She sat in a taxi, and closing her eyes tried to picture every detail. She found herself on the verge of throwing up. The very idea of him kissing her made her nauseous. There was no way in hell she could actually screw him. She wasn't that good an actress.

In the darker parts of her past she had, it was true, been known to cocktease men and then refuse to put out. In a violently aggressive state of mind then, she had hated everyone but no one as much as herself. Now, thank God, those days were behind her.

When it came to actual intercourse, in fact, she'd never been with a man she didn't like, respect, and usually love. She shook her head - there was no way she could make good on that deal if she tried. So what the hell was she going to do now?

*******

When MacLeod stepped into the cottage, he'd known something was off by the sound. Instead of the passionate, seductive sounds that normally got played during their time together, Mahleah had cranked up P.J. Harvey. The hard-edged, aggressive rock was pulsing through the small building. As he entered, he heard the last moments of "Rub Til It Bleeds," and shuddered. That song always gave him the creeps.

Mahleah had always loved P.J. Harvey, but she usually reserved songs like the one now playing, "Fifty Foot Queenie," to days when she was feeling particularly aggressive, even violent.

Hey I'm one big queen No one can stop me Red light red green Sat back and watching I'm your new one Second to no one No sweat I'm clean Nothing can touch me.

He could see her now dressed in a sports bra and hakama, prowling through the room, Tora in hand - performing katas like a whirling dervish.

Tell you my name FU and CK 50 foot queenie Force ten hurricane Biggest woman I could have ten sons Ten gods ten queens Ten foot and rising

He watched in fascination as she alternated dance steps with wicked strikes, slashes, and thrusts. The traditional dance moves would be on the beat of the music, but the martial arts would come between the beats...she knew to make her more deadly rhythms unpredictable.

Hey I'm the king of the world You oughta hear my song You come on measure me I'm twenty inches long

So the verses at the end went, counting off in tens to eventually hit fifty inches. Normally Mahleah considered the song a hilarious parody of male vanity but this evening it appeared to be tapping into something darker. Then the music shifted into the even more driving "Me-Jane."

Oh damn your chest beating, just you stop your screaming It's splitting through my head and swinging from the ceiling I've called you by your first name, good Lord it's Me-Jane!

As he watched, she began putting every drop of energy she possessed into the frantic drumbeat. She was adding gymnastics now: one-handed cartwheels that slashed violently at legs or abdomen, somersaults that removed heads, and a split that castrated her imaginary opponent.

He swallowed. Something had upset her profoundly today, but until she calmed down he'd never find out what was going on. Deciding to alter the mood by switching music, he went to the stereo and programmed the CD changer for her favorite U2 album.

As the beginning strains of "Love is Blindness" filled the room, he embraced her from behind. He could feel her overworked muscles quivering and leading her to the side of the room, he sat down with his back against the wall and held her. He could feel her trying to calm her breathing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," she closed her eyes.

Love is blindness I don't want to see Won't you wrap the night Around me Take my heart Love is blindness

She sighed, and her head fell back against his shoulder. She shifted her legs until his were intertwined.

In a parked car In a crowded street You see your love Made complete Thread is ripping The knot is slipping Love is blindness

He kissed the side of her face. Her heartbeat was slowing and her breathing was back to normal.

"I'm sorry, Mac," she said finally.

"For what?" he asked gently.

Love is clockworks And cold steel Fingers too numb to feel Squeeze the handle Blow out the candle Love is blindness

"I've been offered everything I wanted on a silver platter, but I just can't pay the price for it."

"If the price is your self-respect, then it's not everything you ever wanted, is it?" he asked. "If it's a question of honor, you have to do what feels right in your heart."

Love is blindness I don't want to see Won't you wrap the night Around me Oh my love Blindness

"Honor?" she laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess it was. I actually considered it. I don't know how honorable that was."

A little death Without mourning No call And no warning Baby...a dangerous idea That almost makes sense

He didn't know what the situation was, but he could guess, "If one of the rewards was my safety, I appreciate the thought, but don't betray yourself for it."

The Edge's guitar work cut through the hypnotic melody and she turned to face him.

"What if it wasn't just your safety at stake?"

"Knowing you, I'd say you're not considering yourself, which leaves your friends. Would this deal ultimately change their lives for the better?"

Love is drowning In a deep well All the secrets And no one to tell Take the money Honey Blindness

"They would be able to see each other without fear of reprisals," she told him.

He raised his eyebrows, "Well that would be nice I'm sure, but shouldn't they be entitled to that right anyway? If such a proposition didn't improve the fundamental way they are treated, is it such an improvement?"

"No," she said softly.

"Well then, wouldn't a better plan be what you've wanted all along: a shift in the structure of the organization that required all operatives to be treated as human beings?"

She stared at him for a long moment.

Love is blindness I don't want to see Won't you wrap the night Around me Oh my love Blindness

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him forward to meet her lips.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I never doubted it, mo chidhe," he replied tenderly.

Part Fourteen

Kenny was enjoying his stay with Nikita so far. She, at least, seemed to realize that he was older than he seemed and treated him more like a teenager than a ten-year-old. It was his guess that she'd spent some time on the streets herself. She had that air about her when she looked at him sometimes. Of course, he'd had to tell her a lame story about his parents dying in a plane crash. Supposedly an aunt had taken him in, only to discover that her husband hated him. He'd run away and ended up living on the streets. Nikita eyed him a little skeptically but didn't challenge the tale.

He wondered how long he'd get to stay here before Chris came back to take him to some government agency or other. Hopefully it would be a few days - he could get used to this. He wasn't quite sure what Nikita did for a living, though. She'd claimed to be in between jobs at the moment, but that wasn't likely...she lived too well. She wasn't extravagant, but she was hardly pinching pennies either.

They were settling down to a hot lunch when he heard a knock on the door. He expected it to be Chris with news of some feel-good agency willing to take him off their hands. It wasn't the bald man, though; it was another male. Kenny sized up the newcomer and immediately decided he was trouble.

Tall, with piercing green eyes that instantly fastened upon Nikita's unexpected guest, the stranger moved with a dangerous grace that sent off warning bells in Kenny's brain. This guy reminded him of MacLeod - just the kind of looks that women go nuts over. To his disgust, Nikita appeared happy to see the handsome guy. She called him Michael.

He and Michael stared at each other for a long time, while Nikita anxiously shifted her weight from foot to foot. After saying a brief hello, Michael took Nikita to the side.

Kenny listened intently but could only make out Nikita's voice, which rose in some agitation saying, "But he's only a boy!"

Oh, damn, here it came. As soon as the boyfriend showed up, he automatically dropped back to being a kid again in her mind. He stared at Mr. Tall and Good Looking wondering if the man had any idea just how lucky he really was.

Apparently the discussion was over. Michael kissed Nikita on the cheek, nodded in his direction, and left. Good, he thought, and don't come back now, you hear?

*******

Michael left Nikita's apartment apprehensive for no reason that he could pin down. There was something about this child - something in the eyes maybe - that sent chills down his spine. He would go to Section and talk to Davenport about where the boy was found and what should be done about him.

Kenny reminded him of someone he'd met before, but he couldn't place who it was. He just hoped the whole matter could be taken care of before they on for the mission being planned for this afternoon.

******

Mahleah saw Davenport and flagged him down in the hallway. She didn't like what she was hearing about his part in Michael's systematic degradation at the hands of Madeline. Although she didn't know him well, she'd always respected him and thought of him as a member of Walter's 5% club, so it bothered her to see him so deeply involved in Section's schemes.

"Mahleah," he said.

"Chris, what in the world is going on with you lately?" she didn't waste any time beating around the bush. "Since when have you become Madeline's pet lap dog?"

She saw him wince before responding, "I do what I have to, Mahleah, just like everybody else. Michael's had to handle his share of difficult assignments before - I think he understands it's nothing personal with me."

She frowned, "I'm sure he does, but how can you justify it to yourself? Michael's a good man and a good operative. What exactly is his crime here - the fact that he fell in love? Or, are the powers that be just scared that he'll take their jobs?"

He swallowed, "I don't know, but it's out of my hands. I don't like doing this any more than you, but I have no choice."

"But -" she started to protest.

He raised a hand, "I'll do everything I can to help Michael out because I think this whole thing sucks. Ultimately though, I have to follow orders."

She realized that she would have to be satisfied with this. They were standing in the hallway when Gail walked by.

"Oh, Mahleah, I'm glad I ran into you," she said warmly. "Madeline and Operations want to see you in Madeline's office right away."

Mahleah gave a start. He'd told her she'd have a couple of days to think things over. Surprise, surprise, the man was a liar. This didn't bode well.