Everyone in Section has settled in their prospective places and trial proceedings begin.

"This hearing will come to order! Rubin please read the charges." George announces.

Before Rubin can voice the charges to Oversight members and Section personnel, the lights throughout Section begin to blink on and off. On every monitor, computer screens and panels the symbols Alpha Omega flash throughout the Section.

The room goes dark and a few seconds later the lights turn back on again. A lone figure stands before them, hands firmly clasped in front of him. He stands at 5'11'' with dark hair and eyes; no unique characteristics that would make him stand out. His attire consists of a grey suit with silk shirt and tie.

His face remains neutral, but he's aware of his surroundings nonetheless. Surrounding the man was Security with their guns drawn on him. He calmly remarks to those in attendance. "Who were you expecting Santa Claus? Sorry to disappoint you." Not phased at the guns drawn on him he looks over at George. "These proceedings have been canceled. All security is to stand down...now." He gives a warning glance to George who acquiesces.

"Stand down." George commands. They lower their weapons but remain where they stand.

"We have much to discuss, George. We have some concerns and issues that must be raised, but we will deal with those at another time."

"What is the meaning of this? I was told that we would have no interference from the Center. I was given full authority on how to deal with this internal matter." George returns.

"Yes, you were, but you chose vengeance. That is not what we wanted. You were given a test and you failed. You all failed and we are not pleased with how this internal matter was handled. On the other hand some of you showed great promise and we are very pleased with the results." Cornelius explains.

"Who gave you the right...?"

"We are the authority. We do as we see fit." Cornelius goes to take something out of his breast pocket; security draw their weapons. Not paying much attention to the men who are surrounding him, he takes out a panel. The guns are then lowered after seeing the device. He presses a few buttons then looks back up at everyone. "Shall we proceed?"

Operations chuckles slightly from across the room, shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn't thought that this day could get any worse. "I don't believe this. Cornelius Smithe."

Cornelius looks over at the former commander of Section One. "Paul Wolfe." He returns in the same manner.

"I see the head of Center sent his pit bull."

Not a bit phased at the comment, Cornelius looks at him with utter displeasure. "It's a dirty job...but someone has to do it." He stares at Operations with a deadly calm, not a smile on his face. "Paul, I would love to continue with these pleasantries, but there's work to be done, and I hate being thrown off schedule."

Cornelius moves in closer towards everyone, in tune to his entire surroundings. "After much deliberation, we have come to some decisions that will greatly affect you all. Be advised...we are aware of all that has transpired these last few days. However, these decisions were not made because of these past few days. We've been watching for five years now. I must say we are deeply appalled as how you handle internal matters of either the personal nature or even simply Section affairs. We have never seen such childish behavior among our higher tier. There is no excuse for all this pettiness and foolishness. Abusing and wasting Section resources is unacceptable. I know many of you would like to seek some type of retribution for what has occurred, but unfortunately, we cannot condone that. We have other means of rectifying the situation and would hate to lose such valuable material as it is."

Cornelius looks down at his panel and keys something in, he then looks back up and walks over to Madeline. "My dossier reads: Madeline, level 9, Psych Ops, and as I scan through the material, it shows a very impressive record. We'll have to do better won't we? I think some reconditioning should be involved to help you find what you lost. It would seem that your objectivity of late has been skewed."

"What you referred to as skewed is our way of dealing with the material set before us. Everything has to be done meticulously down to the last bit of intelligence we come across. We remain objective within our goals, having at times to be creative to achieve those set goals. You've never complained of our methods as of late." Madeline counters.

"We agree, but we're not the ones on trial are we. After reconditioning we will determine where you'll be placed next." He looks down at the panel again a presses a sequence of buttons. "Paul Wolfe, level 9 and over 20 years of service above and beyond the call of duty for Section One."

"There's no need to be condescending." Paul interrupts.

"Oh...I was...I hadn't noticed. You on the other hand were an impressive operative in your time. Then after a while, I guess age played a factor in it, we're still debating that one, and the decisions you've made of late have been quite puzzling. Care to elaborate?" Operations coldly stares at him, remembering the message on his panel. "I hit a nerve, must be of a personal nature." He comes closer to him whispering to him as though they were confidants. "We'll discuss this in private among the committee."

Cornelius steps back and continues in his normal voice. "We're going to help you become what we always hoped for you. It's been a little disappointing at times seeing you in action but we mean to change that. After such time that we feel there has been great improvement we'll decide where you'll be placed next. Understood?"

Taking a line from his top operative, Operations simply replies, "Of course." Cornelius smiles slightly.

"I'm glad there's no misunderstanding between us. We will speak further on other matters later." Cornelius walks away from the two and back to where he was originally and a table has been placed next to him.

He looks over at the table to see Operations' command chain lying in a case. "I see we were able to get it off his neck. I thought we might have to pry it out of his dead hands. Mmhmm...oh...well. Michael Samuelle approach." Michael steps forward to stand before Cornelius with his hands firmly clasped together in front of him in parade rest. Cornelius takes the chain from out the case and presents it to Michael. "You have command."

Michael takes it out of his hand. "I have command." He then places the command chain around his neck, tucking it under his shirt.

"Mr. Samuelle, Center would like a detailed outline of what your plans are for Section One. You have six weeks to present this outline and you may choose a second or have Center choose one for you. Are we clear?"

"Of course."

Cornelius slightly smiles at Michael's choice of words. He takes out his cell phone and presses a number. "Send them in." Four men dressed from head to toe in black, including long black trench coats come into Section. All four flank Operations and Madeline. "Take them to the car, I'll be there shortly."

Two of the men take the lead while the other two bring up the rear keeping Operations and Madeline sandwiched between them. He sees the way Operations is looking. "Paul, don't even think about it. It would be in you best interest if you just follow orders."

Operations looks at Cornelius in utter disgust but complies. "George, don't look at me like that. We want to see you and Adrian tomorrow at 8 am. Please be prepared for a long debrief. Well, my work is done here." He looks over at Michael. " I'm leaving One in your capable hands. Don't disappoint us, Mr. Samuelle." He walks away but throws one last remark. "George, when you're through here, a car will be waiting for you. Mr. Thomas, Ms. Lanier and Mr. Fortunato, care to walk out with me?"

The three Oversight members follow Cornelius Smithe. Adrian and George walk over towards Michael.

"This didn't go as planned. Everything I've been planning for those two has blown up in smoke. I thought you checked for surveillance and communication devices?" George asks.

"Would it have made a difference?" Michael asks.

"That's not the point."

"We shouldn't bicker amongst ourselves. The outcome may not have been ideal for our side, but at least Paul and Madeline are out of power." Adrian intervened.

"I don't like this one bit. Someone has been made privy to our plans. We'll discuss this matter at another time." George looks at Michael one last time before he and Adrian leave.

Rubin waits for them at Van Access and all three make their exit.

****

Viewing the monitor before him, Mystery Man #2 muses aloud. "Don't worry George. You'll get what you deserve in due time." His companion seems a little restless. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes. I'm still not clear on all of this." Mystery Man #1 states.

"What's the saying 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely.' The way George wanted to handle it would have set us back considerably. I do not intend on wasting such valuable resources. I plan on using them to their full capacity."

"After everything that's happened, you're letting them off Scott free."

"On the contrary, I'm giving them something far worse than death. It's not going to be as easy as they think it is."

"I thought there wasn't going to be any revenge."

"If I were seeking revenge all parties involved would've been canceled. I'm allowing them to set their own selves up for a fall. Paul and Madeline fell...for now. But it's only a matter of time before we find out who the real players are."

"What aren't you telling me?" The younger man asks.

"Review your lessons."

The older man gets up and heads out of the room, leaving the younger man to ponder and he suddenly smiles in understanding. "That should be quite interesting." He turns off the monitor and exits the room.

******

Michael is left alone in the middle of the common area.

Walter comes from over Comm and approaches him. "I've told Mentz and Snow that the trial is over. Nikita will be in shortly. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Is everyone gone?"

"Yeah." Walter answers then heads over to his area before leaving for the night.

Michael walks over to Comm to a bickering Hillinger and Birkoff. "Has the new system been loaded?"

"Yes." Hillinger answers.

"May I have the codes?" Hillinger hands the disk over to Michael. "That will be all. You can return to Oversight."

"But..." Hillinger begins protesting then seeing the look on Michael's face shuts up and gets up to leave in a huff.

After waiting several minutes, Michael looks back at Birkoff. "I want a whole new system design."

"Already done, just waiting for the okay."

"Good."

Birkoff sees Nikita coming into view. "I'll upload the new program in Systems." Michael nods and watches the young man leave.

Finally, coming into view, Nikita still looks a little disoriented from her ordeal. "Michael?"

Michael turns fully around and meets her halfway across the room. He takes inventory, looking at her from head to toe then focuses on her eyes then her lips and then her eyes again.

He lifts up his hand and rubs his thumb against her brow. Nikita grabs his hand, holds it to her face, and sighs deeply. She closes her eyes and opens them back up with a tear sliding down her face. Michael brushes it away and brings her closer to him, finally releasing the breath he's been holding.

Michael kisses her brow and rubs his face into her hair. He then brings his lips to her ear. She feels his warm breath against it. "Welcome back." He steps back slightly keeping her in a loose embrace, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Nikita looks around noticing how deserted Section is. "What's going on?"

"The trial's over."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"Center intervened."

"How exactly did they intervene?"

"No blood was spilled."

"Clarify." Nikita orders.

"Now is not the best time."

Nikita becomes angry and backs away from him. "Now is not the best time!? They put me through hell. I deserve to know what has been done."

Michael steps around her and walks over to the briefing table. "They are being reconditioned. Center feels that they are still of some use to the Intelligence community."

"That's a bunch of bull and you know it. They should've been canceled for what they tried to do. Remember, no exceptions."

"I agree on some level. Center felt it would be a waste of valuable resources."

Nikita scoffs at his choice of words. "I don't believe this. I do less and I have cancellation orders dangling over my head at the drop of the hat." She sighs deeply fighting back the anger and the tears.

"I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with the situation. I'm angry with this place. My living hell."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I know." Nikita drops the topic. "Whose in charge?"

"I am."

Nikita shakes her head and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "Congratulations."

Recognizing the tone of her voice, Michael immediately goes on the defensive. "I know you didn't like it when I had to take charge, but I explained my reasons."

"I know. It's not that."

"What's the problem?"

"I can't live like this anymore. How do they expect me to continue on knowing what they did to me?"

"You don't have to."

"What do you mean?" Nikita asks.

"Wait here." Michael touches her shoulder before walking away towards his office. He goes in and retrieves the envelope that was under his desk. He comes out and walks back towards her, placing the envelope in her hand.

"What's this?"

"Open it." Michael instructs.

Inside the envelope are a passport, identification, credit cards, account statements and checkbooks along with other documents.

"I don't understand."

"Your new life. You're free."

"How is that possible?"

"I called in a favor." Michael explains.

"What about you?"

"You know I have to remain inside Section."

"Then I don't want it." Nikita shoves the envelope into Michael's hand and walks off.

"Ni-ki-ta..." She stops and Michael walks towards her. He turns her around to face him. He sees that she's fighting back her tears. "I did this for you."

"Why?" Her voice becomes huskier from trying not to cry.

"I want you to be happy."

The tears begin to fall freely down her face. Nikita smiles up at him. "I am happy." She touches the side of his face.

Michael grabs a hold of her wrist to keep her hand on his face. He closes his eyes and opens them back up with tears brimming around his beautiful green eyes. "No, not with me. I'll hurt you eventually. I would rather you hate me now than later."

"I thought we were past all of this. I don't want out. I want to be with you...here."

"Why?"

Nikita comes closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck. He can feel her soft warm breath against his ear. "I love you, Michael." Nikita whispers. Michael stiffens slightly then relaxes in her embrace. He moderately pulls back from her. "What's wrong?"

"I can't let you give up your freedom for me."

"It was never mine to ask for. Why did you do it?" Nikita asks.

"It doesn't matter why I did it." Michael steps out of the loose embrace and starts to walk off.

Nikita grabs him by the forearm preventing him from leaving. "Tell me."

"It's not that simple. I just wanted you...needed for you to be happy."

"Then we have a problem."

"I don't see a problem. You're free."

"I no longer want that, Michael. I want to stay in Section with you. I would rather be here with you, than miserable on the outside."

"You're willing to give up your freedom and remain here in Section with me?"

"Yes."

Michael turns fully around to face her lifting her chin up with his other hand. He looks at her eyes then her lips and brushes his across hers. Lips barely away from each other he looks into her eyes and whispers. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Michael brings his hand down and grabs hold of hers. "Let's go."

They walk off towards Van Access as Nikita asks. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Michael smiles slightly as they go inside the elevator car.

******

2 months later...

On the outskirts of town, guards are positioned discreetly throughout the area of a house, and the sounds of Debussy wafts through Michael's new home. He's in the kitchen preparing dinner watching Nikita through the monitor in the kitchen. He starts to prepare La Bourride Base, getting all the ingredients together to put in a large saucepan.

Michael turns off the monitor then turns on the burner again to bring it to a boil and hears familiar footsteps approach the large spacious kitchen. Nikita is assaulted by the wonderful aromas emanating from the pots on the stove.

Without looking up Michael is aware of who the footsteps belong to. "What did they say?"

Nikita smiles and shakes her head before pulling out one of the stools from the island. Before her, there are tiny little bowls filled with different ingredients. "Nothing much. Same as the others."

Michael's back stiffens slightly, waiting for a clearer explanation than the one he got.

Nikita sighs deeply before responding. "I'm okay. The virus is no longer in my system. The last test confirmed that what had occurred 10 weeks ago no longer exists. I'm the picture of perfect health." Michael resumes his tasks, satisfied for now with her answer. "What smells so good? What are you cooking?"

"Our dinner." He removes the saucepan from the heat and strains what's in there. He then pours the stock into a large heavy pot and turns on the burner at medium heat. The stock gently boils and from each little bowl to the pot, he adds the saffron, leeks, tomatoes, orange juice, orange zest, fennel, garlic, and parsley. He then adds salt, pepper and the mullet to the pot.

While waiting for the fish to cook, Michael starts to prepare the Aļoli, which consists of garlic, egg yolks, salt and olive oil. The concoction turns into a thick mayonnaise when he's finished.

Nikita watches with great interest as he prepares this dish. He removes the fish and sets it aside on a platter. He then very slowly adds the Aļoli to the fish liquid. While waiting for it to thicken, he takes out a loaf a French bread and starts to slice it.

Nikita notices what he is making and smiles. "You're making La Bourride. What's the occasion?"

Michael looks up at her. "I was thinking of home." He places a piece a French bread in a bowl. He then starts to prepare the Rouille, which consist of the stock, breadcrumbs, red hot peppers, garlic, olive oil and salt.

"Really. I forgot...where was it you were born?" Nikita asks surprised.

Michael smiles slightly to himself. "Marseille."

"Must be a good memory."

"It is... childhood actually."

"Care to share?" Nikita asks.

"Maybe later. Care for some wine?"

"I would love some." Nikita gets up and walks over to his wine rack. "Which one?"

Michael turns the burner down to simmer and starts to prepare his next dish. "The Sancerre Rose Chavignol Cotat 1999."

Nikita takes the selection he specified out and sets it down on the island. She then removes two wine glasses from a shelf and prepares to open the wine. "Want some?"

"Yes, please." She pours them both a glass and brings them over to where she was sitting. As she sits down, she sees Michael purging and removing the shells from the snails. He knows what she's doing. "Don't look at them like that."

"But Michael, it's snails."

He stops what he is doing and looks up at her. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Well...you could at least tell me what the dish is called."

"Escargots A La Provence."

Nikita scrunches her nose up and gives in. "All right...I'll try it. But no promises."

Michael just smiles and continues to prepare the snails. After they sauté for 10 minutes, he removes them from the burner. Since the oven has been preheated to the desired temperature, he takes out porcelain snail dishes. He puts the sautéed snails in each dish, pouring the liquid over each, adding the aļoli.

In a small mixing bowl, he combines breadcrumbs, parsley and the remaining oil. He combines the ingredients and sprinkles it over the aļoli. He then places each dish on a baking dish and moves them to the oven.

Still not to thrilled about that dish, Nikita takes a sip of her wine before speaking. "What's next?"

"Dessert."

She perks up at the mention of dessert. "What are you making?"

"Fresh Apricot Clafouti. "

"I never had that."

"I know."

In a mixing bowl, Michael whisks eggs and honey then scrapes the vanilla bean and pulp to the mixture. He then stirs in butter, brandy and flour. He continues to whisk until the batter is smooth. In another mixing bowl, he tosses in the apricots with the sugar. Taking out an oval shaped dish, he lightly butters it before adding the apricots with sugar. He then pours the batter over the apricot.

He goes over to the oven to remove the escargots dish and then puts the apricot dish in. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

Michael takes the two bowls that have the slices of French bread, pours the sauce over the bread and adds two pieces of the mullet on top of it. He also makes sure he has some of the aioli and the rouille in small serving dishes on the table.

After 30 minutes of enjoying La Bourride, and pleasant conversation, Michael prepares Escargots A La Provence. He puts one of the dishes on a plate with a piece of French bread. He comes back over to the table and presents it before her.

Nikita hesitates at first, but after the first bite, she thoroughly enjoys the dish. Ten minutes later, the oven timer goes off and Michael goes into the kitchen to prepare dessert. He takes the dish out and lets it cool for five minutes. He then goes to the freezer to remove the vanilla ice cream.

After five minutes have passed, he dishes out the clafouti, puts a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it and garnishes with almonds and confectioners' sugar. He brings the dish out and sets it before her. Nikita eyes the dish appreciatively. She then picks up a spoon and begins to eat the desert with gusto. Michael watches, amused with her healthy appetite.

After what seems to be two bites left, she looks up to notice that Michael doesn't have any. "You didn't want any?"

"No, I'm fine." Michael takes a sip from his wine glass before refilling hers then his.

"Here." Not satisfied with his answer, Nikita holds her spoon out towards him with the dessert.

Michael leans over taking hold of her wrist to steady it as he tastes the dessert, keeping his eyes on her as he removes his lips from the spoon. Nikita slightly blushes and finishes the last bite. Michael smiles knowingly and takes another sip of his wine, watching Nikita intently.

******

After their leisurely meal, they retire to the living room with their glass of wine and sit before the fireplace. Michael picks up the remote to change the Debussy to something softer, more intimate. He then retrieves a book of poetry from off an end table, takes the throw off the couch, and settles himself more comfortably on the floor. Nikita moves herself closer to him and lays her head against his chest as he covers them both with the throw. Michael softly strokes her hair, taking in the smell of lavender as he reads:

I've Dreamed Of You So Much

I've dreamed of you so much that you're losing your reality. Is it already too late for me to embrace your literal, living and breathing physical body and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace of that voice which is so dear to me? I've dreamed of you so much that my arms--which have become accustomed to lying crossed upon my own chest after attempting to encircle your shadow--might not be able to unfold again to embrace the contours of your literal form, perhaps So that coming face-to-face with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years Might very well turn me into a shadow. Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales! I've dreamed of you so much that it might be too late for me to ever wake up again. I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena of life and love and yet when it comes to you--you, the only being on the planet who matters to me now-- I can no more touch your face and lips than I can those of the next random passerby. I've dreamed of you so much, have walked and talked and slept so much with your phantom presence that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now Is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadowy than that shifting shape which moves and which will go on moving, stepping lightly and happily across the sundial of your life.

*

By Robert Desnos

Translated by Michael Benedikt

After he finishes the poem, Michael closes the book and kisses her hair several times. They sit and watch the fire burn the logs in the fireplace. Nikita rubs her nose into his chest taking in his scent and sighs deeply.

"Tired?"

"Not really." Nikita answers. He starts to rub her shoulder then up and down the length of her arm. "How long before you have to go back in?"

"18 hours. Why?"

She smiles slightly and gets up allowing the throw cover to fall off of her then extends her hand for him to take. Michael takes a firm hold of it and allows her to pull him up.

"I thought we could make the most of it."

Nikita caresses Michael's chin then his cheek with the back of her fingers. He brings both of his hands up to her face and begins to caress her cheeks, moving one hand up to caress her brow with his thumb. He looks from her eyes to her lips to her eyes before bringing her face closer to him.

He lightly kisses her lips tasting a hint of ripe berries from the wine earlier. He kisses her again penetrating her lips with his tongue for a deeper exploration. She pulls him closer to bury her hands in his shortened hair, caressing the softness of it.

They break apart from the kiss with their foreheads touching, staring intently into each other's eyes. They're breathing heavily, trying to regain what little oxygen they can from the kiss.

"I'm going upstairs." Nikita announces. Michael nods and she kisses him one more time before leaving him next to the fireplace.

While downstairs, Michael checks around the house to make sure everything is secure and in proper order. He slowly heads upstairs, giving Nikita enough time to prepare herself.

When he opens the door, he finds her lying naked below the sheets, her blond hair splayed out on the pillow, highlighted by the distant twinkle of the lights from Paris that shine through the large glass window. Thus far her eyes were like those of a child on the point of new discovery. She was smiling that soft, tentative little smile, inviting him to be her lover as her hands dropped the front sheet.

Michael's heart quickens as he comes over to the bed and leans in closer to her, following the delicate structure of her throat, caressing her collarbone, his thumb skimming the smooth texture of her skin.

Then he gently lowers the sheet to allow his fingers to circle her small breasts, his thumb lightly grazing the tips, his body reacting at her quick intake of breath.

Michael wants to make mad passionate love to her, to penetrate the depths of her being until he reaches that sensitive spot he knows intuitively is his and his alone. But he holds back, gently lowering his mouth to hers, feeling the tremors of desire shuddering through her as his masterful hands wander farther, determined to give her all the pleasure he'd silently promised himself he would.

When his fingers finally reach their destination, she lets out a soft gasp of delight, arching her back, her eyes remaining closed. Slowly he takes his lips from her mouth and lowers them gently to her breast, laving it, taunting her with his tongue until she writhes, helpless in his arms, reaching out for him.

Michael raises his dark head, watching her, wanting to experience each sensation to the fullest. He quickens his caresses, driving her to the teetering edge of a deep chasm then slowly back, watching her blue eyes open and darken, her blond hair tumble wildly about her shoulders. When she finally falls over the edge, she arches her back crying out his name then lays shuddering in his arms.

Michael rises and removes his shirt and pants, anxious now to feel her skin on his.

"Michael," she murmurs hoarsely.

"Shh...just feel. I'll do the rest," Michael says softly as he lays down next to her and begins caressing her again, waiting until he knows she is more than ready for him.

Then, and only then, does he allow himself the ultimate pleasure of loving her, entering her slowly, his green eyes fastened upon hers. Nikita curls her long legs around him, hips arching, demanding that he explore deep within her.

His resolve gives way. Mouth to mouth, skin to skin, they consume each other, Michael deep within her, pacifying the insatiable hunger that has been overshadowing him since the day they'd met. He holds on long enough for her final moan of pleasure and fulfillment, then when he can't endure it anymore, he loses himself within her, yielding to the passion and feelings he's tried to bury for so long. For the first time in many years, he knows what it's like to feel whole again.

Nikita strokes and caresses his thick dark hair as his head lays upon her chest, amazed at how natural it feels for him to be lying next to her in her arms, one arm lightly touching her thigh, both of them drowsy yet happy after the beautiful night and its final peak. She smiles, thoroughly depleted, savoring the delicious ache in her muscles.

Michael stretches out and rolls onto his side taking her with him, nudging her leg over his until they lay entwined. "Tired?" he whispers the same question he asked earlier, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ear. He continues to tenderly caress her hair, thoroughly enjoying the aftermath.

"Mmm...somewhat," Nikita responds, delighted with the familiar gesture he bestowed upon her.

"You should get some sleep," he murmurs drowsily, tenderly stroking her cheek with his free hand. But she didn't want to sleep. Sleep could wait for she had other things in mind. Gently she drags her nails up and down his spine, immediately getting a reaction from him. "Kita, if you do that I'll..."

"Yes?"

Michael smiles and gently rolls her under him, slowly making love to her through the night.

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

Epilogue

6 weeks later...

Michael enters an office. A man is sitting behind a desk with his back to him.

"Right on time, Michael...have a seat." Mystery Man #2 greets him. Michael scans the area while removing his gloves. He then unbuttons his coat and places the gloves down on the desk before he seats himself. The chair swivels around. "Always the consummate operative, I see." Michael continues to stare at him. "I keep forgetting you're a man of few words. Where are my manners? Would you like a refreshment?" Michael just continues to stare at his host. " Oh, I see...just business...not a social visit." He then presses down on a button.

Mystery Man #1 answers from his end. "Yes, sir?"

"I need those files ASAP."

"Right away, sir."

He brings his attention back to Michael. "How are things at One?"

"The transition went smoothly." Michael replies.

"Does George suspect anything?"

"No."

"Just 'no?' There's nothing else you would like to add?"

"What kind of an answer would appeal to you?"

"Well...I would like to know the condition of my operatives and One."

"I sent you a detailed report on what had transpired."

"I'm aware of the report. But I would like to hear what your thoughts were on the situation." Mystery Man #2 persists.

"I don't see how that's relevant to the current situation."

"Why are you being so evasive, Michael? We're on the same side."

"Are we?" Michael asks. "Or are you just using me to fulfill yet another agenda?"

"If you recall, Michael, I approached you. It had to do with the fact that we had someone that was important to both of us."

"Nicholas, we agreed that her name would never be bought up in any conversation that we had." Michael reproves.

"Yes, up until now." Nicholas agrees the asks, "Why didn't she take the package?"

"She felt I was trying to protect her again." Michael answers.

"I don't believe this."

"You find it hard to believe that she would rather remain in Section with me than be free and without me?"

"From what my people told me, yes, I believed she value her freedom more than being with you in Section." The door opens and Nicholas looks up. "Yes, Alexander?"

"The files you requested, sir." Alexander walks over to his boss and places the files in his hands.

"Thank you."

Michael silently observes the man as he leaves the office. "Your son?"

"Yes, how did..." Nicholas begins, surprised.

"Any others?" Michael interrupts.

"Yes, another daughter. Isabel."

Michael gets up and looks down at the discs. "Are those the files?"

"Yes." Nicholas confirms.

Michael retrieves the discs and places them in his breast pocket. He buttons his coat up, picks up his gloves and walks towards the door.

Nicholas stands up. "Michael, this meeting isn't over."

Michael stops at the door and turns to face him. "As far as I'm concerned it is." He turns to open the door and walks out.

Nicholas slams his hand hard on the desk. "Damn!"

Alexander comes back into the office. "Is there a problem?"

Nicholas continues to stare at the closed door. "I don't know..." He sits back down. "I don't' know..."

To be continued....

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