Michael strolled slowly through the halls of Section One. It was early and most of the day shift had yet to arrive.

Madeline was there of course, reviewing trainee psych files in her office. Ops was also present. It sometimes seemed to Michael that Ops was always there, an omnipresent reminder of what Section demanded of its cold ops. Section demanded everything.

Michael ghosted down the silent hallway toward his office. An unexpected noise made him glide to a stop and turn.

Jurgen was leaning against the wall at the end of the wall, staring at him. Jurgen suddenly smiled and said in his distinctive graveled voice "Good morning Michael. Slept well I hope." Jurgen then turned and walked away. Michael followed him with his eyes as the other operative headed toward Ops' office. A sudden chill ran down Michael's spine. He continued to walk toward his office. However, his measured step was now quicker. If his suspicions were correct, he may not have much time to accomplish all that must be done.

Michael had just finished inputting the last string of code into his computer when the call he had been anticipating came.

So intent was he on finishing his self appointed task that the strident ring briefly startled him. He picked up the receiver, listened and then returned it to its cradle without saying a word. He signed deeply once, hit the enter key on his computer and stood. He straightened his jacket, tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and squared his shoulders. The moment of truth had arrived. Having prepared himself mentally as best he could, he left his office. He closed his door behind him. The decisive click had a sound of finality. Expecting the worse he walked toward Ops' office.

Michael's gait was purposeful, neither rushed nor slow. He briefly toyed with the idea that his original suspicion was incorrect. However, as he began to walk up the steps leading to his destination he saw the two "muscle" stationed on either side of Ops' door. He did not acknowledge their presence but the one on the right opened the door for him allowing him to enter.

Ops' back was to the door as he talked to Jurgen. He turned when he heard the door open. He moved around to the corner of his desk and leaned against the edge. He watched Michael walk forward, apparently calm with his face impassive. The operative stopped a few feet away and waited quietly and patiently.

"I suppose you know why I asked you here?" Ops began. He tilted his head to the side and waited for his agent's response.

Michael's eyes briefly looked past Ops and met Jurgen's gaze. He then quickly brought his attention back to the man in front of him. He would give nothing away. "No" he said quietly.

Ops knew the game his operative was playing but had the home court advantage. "Michael, as you may or may not be aware, I have been suspicious of Nikita's miraculous return from the very beginning. She should have died in that explosion along with the rest of the operatives that had been held in abeyance. Her explanation of her capture and the six months she was supposedly held captive just was not consistent with the physical evidence. Several questions about the whole episode have not been satisfactorily answered. The foremost being how she survived the explosion. You were the team leader on the mission to find and neutralize Shays and his explosives, do you have any explanation for her continued existence?"

Michael's eyes again quickly flicked to Jurgen before answering. "No."

Ops stared intently at Michael's face. "Are you positive that there is nothing that you wish to tell me?" Ops voice was flat and hard.

Michael didn't allow his gaze to waver this time and he again quietly answered "No."

"I see" Ops said. "In that case I have something that I think you should hear." Ops leaned across his desk and hit a key on his computer's keyboard. A voice could be heard coming from the speakers, a female voice, Nikita's voice. She was talking to someone else.

"I've already told you what happened..."

"Cut the crap Nikita" Jurgen's distinctive voice was the next one heard. "Haven't I proved that you can trust me yet? How do you expect me to be able to continue to help you if you won't tell me the truth." His voice sounded angry and hurt.

"I've told you..."

"NO! I thought you were different Nikita but I guess you've been in Section so long that you don't know the truth from a lie anymore." Footsteps and a door opening could be heard.

"Michael" was said so quietly that it sounded like a whisper.

The footsteps stopped "What?"

"I said it was Michael. Michael helped me escape Section. He gave me a PDA as we left the van for the mission and told me to use it to contact him if my comm link went down. When I turned it on there was a message. It said it was a suicide mission and that I should run. I.."

Ops turned off the recording. "I think we've all heard enough. Do you have anything to say for yourself Michael?"

Michael gave no indication that he had heard anything incriminating. He remained outwardly calm as he again quietly answered "No."

Ops shook his head sadly. "Michael, you disappoint me. You've betrayed my trust in you." Ops voice slowly changed from sad to angry the words becoming more strident and clipped. "If I can't trust you then you are a liability to me and to Section. You understand what that means?"

Michael nodded almost imperceptibly "Yes."

Ops nodded as well. "You'll be escorted to interrogation room three." The door opened and the two Section "muscles" walked into the room, stopping just inside the door.

Michael turned crisply and exited between his escort. He walked quickly, staying a half step ahead of the other agents, giving the impression that he was leading the two on some important mission. He kept his eyes straight ahead, acknowledging no one as he walked.

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

Once Michael left the room, Ops turned to face Jurgen. He was irrationally angry at the other man but was determined not to shoot the messenger just because he didn't like the message. "Go to Michael's office and secure his computer. I want to know if he's got any other little secrets he didn't think I needed to know about." Jurgen nodded and started to walk to the door. Just before he reached it, Ops called him back.

"Jurgen, until I can find a replacement for Michael, I want you to take over his duties. You can use Michael's old office, he isn't going to be needing it. Do you have any problem with that?"

"No, no problems."

"Good. You're dismissed. Keep me apprised of your progress."

As soon as Jurgen left the room, Ops contacted Madeline and told her to come to his office.

The door to interrogation room three opened and Michael walked inside. It closed behind him. The round room was uniformly white. There were two surveillance cameras suspended from the ceiling. There were two doors, the one behind him from which he had entered and the one on the opposite side of the room through which he would leave. In the center of the room, facing him, was a low backed wooden chair with leather restraints for immobilizing the arms and legs of the chair's occupant. Michael had been in the room before but never with his current perspective. He moved across the room, turned and faced the door that he had just entered. He crossed his arms in front of him and settled himself to wait. He was measuring his life in minutes.

Jurgen sat at Michael's computer terminal silently cursing. The hard disc had been wiped. There were no files. He picked up the phone to inform Ops.

"I think that you're being too hasty" Madeline said calmly. Ops was pacing the room with his hands thrust deep in his pockets while she sat behind his desk. Neither were pleased with the current situation.

"Michael's level of betrayal makes him a risk. I can't let him off with just a slap on the wrist. I hate to admit it but cancellation seems the only acceptable solution. If you can come up with another scenario, feel free." Ops challenged her.

Madeline looked thoughtful for several minutes but then just shrugged unhappily. "What about Nikita? Are you planning to punish her as well?"

Ops stopped his pacing "Ah, the fair Nikita. I should have had her canceled a year ago after her training was up like I originally wanted. Michael wouldn't have had the time to become so attached. No, Nikita isn't going to be punished. She took advantage of an opportunity to live. I won't fault her for that as much as I would like to do so. Since her return she has been adjusting well and her re-training with Jurgen is proceeding nicely. At this time there's no reason to punish her."

"And Jurgen?" Madeline murmured.

"Nikita is still the best chance we have to neutralize Jurgen's threat to Section. With Michael gone, insuring that Jurgen's 'special relationship' with Section is terminated is even more imperative. That plan will continue. See what you can do about speeding up the time table."

"I'll see what can be done."

Ops' phone rang. Answering it, he listened intently before slamming it back down. "Michael wiped his computer clean. I wonder how he knew?"

"We've trained him well" Madeline said with more than a hint of pride. "He's one of the best operatives we have, if not the best. It's a shame.."

"Don't say it, not unless you've come up with a suitable alternative" Ops warned sternly.

Madeline gathered herself to leave when Ops' computer screen suddenly came alive, a "Priority Message, Top Clearance Only" message flashed a brilliant attention getting red across the monitor screen. Ops quickly seated himself and typed in his clearance code. He scanned the message and then motioned for Madeline to read it as well. "It appears we may have been provided with a suitable alternative."

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

Birkoff noticed movement behind the partially opened blinds of Michael's office. He knocked on the door with the intention of updating the agent on the previous nights activities in the computer bay. However, it wasn't Michael who told him to enter.

Birkoff open the door and peered into the small office. He saw Jurgen sitting behind the computer in Michael's accustomed place. "Ahh" he stammered "I was looking for Michael, I'll be back later." He tried to back out the door.

"Michael won't be available. I'm temporarily handling his duties."

"I didn't know there were any missions planned? I wasn't given any sims to run."

"He's not on a mission" Jurgen said flatly.

"Personal leave?"

"No."

"Transfer to a substation?"

"No."

Birkoff was silent for several seconds. He was afraid to ask his next question, partially because he was unsure what answer he wanted to receive. "Will Michael be coming back?"

"No." Jurgen studied the computer specialist as the young man seemed to be following the line of questions and answers to their logical conclusion. "If you need to know more, I'm sure you'll be told. Is there anything else?"

Birkoff startled and quickly said "No, no nothing that can't wait. I need to be getting back to my station." Birkoff backed out the door and shut it behind him. he thought to himself as he walked to his station.

Michael wasn't wearing a watch but thought he had probably been waiting for more than an hour. He had initially tried to spend the time he thought he had left reviewing the happier times in his life, times untainted by his Section activities. He was dismayed to find too few instances. There was of course his time with Simone. However, her choice of death rather than coming back with him tinged most of those memories with sadness and guilt. He still blamed himself for her capture and three years of torture. There were the few minutes of stolen closeness with Nikita but almost all of those were deliberate manipulations on his part. There was their one night together outside Section, before he brought her back. This memory was also tempered by Nikita's subsequent behavior with Jurgen. He could neither judge her nor blame her for turning to the other agent. He had asked her to be patient and wait...she appeared to have misunderstood. Even if she didn't want him the way that he needed her, still it cut deeply that she would betray him to Jurgen. Jurgen's betrayal was expected. No, perhaps it would be better not to think at all rather than spend his last minutes dwelling on such thoughts, he thought with some bitterness.

Without warning the door opened and Madeline walked in carrying a metal brief case. She walked several feet into the room and then set the case down and regarded Michael.

"Michael" she said by way of greeting.

He inclined his head by way of acknowledging her.

"I will not be asking you any questions because quite frankly there is nothing that we require to know. Do you have any questions before we proceed?" Madeline spoke professionally and impersonally.

Michael was quiet for several seconds before asking in his softly accented English "Nikita?"

"Ops has decided that she is not to be punished for your betrayal. Anything else?"

Although he had not realized he had been worried about her, he felt some of his tension disappear after finding that Nikita would be safe. He hoped she remained so as this time he really would not be able to protect her anymore. He had no more questions, nothing else seemed important. He shook his head in response to her question.

"Michael..." Madeline's professional demeanor softened.

Michael forestalled her completing her thought, interrupting her with "I'm fine."

"Then I guess there's no sense in wasting anymore time. Please, sit" she indicated the chair.

He walked forward and sat. He watched as she bent and opened the case, taking out a small vial instead of a gun. He looked at her curiously, the only hint of emotion he had shown since she walked into the room.

Madeline noticed Michael's curious gaze. "We're trying something new. This is a very fast acting toxin. I have been told that the pain is... minimal." She opened the vial and shook out a small white tablet into her hand. "It's meant to be placed under the tongue." She handed the pill to the operative sitting before her. He took it without hesitation, inspecting it casually.

"Michael, I am sorry" Madeline said softly.

He looked at her "Don't be. I've been dead a long time. This is just a formality." He placed the pill in his mouth. The taste was bitter. Almost immediately his heart felt as if it would burst and he could not draw a breath. The pain was not minimal but mercifully it was brief.

Madeline watched as Michael's hands suddenly grasped the chair arm and then loosened. In less than a minute he was still. She turned and left the room. After the door closed behind her, the opposite door opened and two men entered with a gurney.

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

Nikita strolled into Section an hour before noon. She was in an incredibly good mood, still feeling a glow from a very intimate night of conversation with Jurgen. She had heard once that confession was good for the soul and now she believed that the trite old saying could be true. It was such a relief to be able to share her secrets with someone whom she felt she could trust. Someone who wouldn't use her secrets and emotions to manipulate her. Who wouldn't lie to her, unlike someone else she could name. Plus Jurgen seemed to have more freedom than other operatives. Whenever she asked about it, she was told it was complicated but maybe someday he would be able to tell her. If he had found a way to improve his lot, then perhaps she could as well.

Despite her good mood, the mood of Section began to intrude. Although Section could never really be described as boisterous, it seemed the tension was so thick that it hung in the air like a fog. Looking around she noticed that none of the other agents would look her in the eye. Whenever she looked at someone, they immediately looked away and found something to do somewhere else.

Nikita's original stroll turned into a rapid walk. She headed to Michael's office intent on finding out what was going on. She opened the door without knocking and walked in. She was surprised to see Jurgen there instead of Michael.

Jurgen looked up annoyed as the door opened. When he saw Nikita he quickly schooled his expression into one of sympathy and quickly crossed the distance that separated them. "Nikita, something has happened."

"Where's Michael?" she said fearfully.

"Last night, while we were talking, we were being monitored with a remote listening device. Section recorded it all. This morning when I arrived I was summoned to Ops' office. He had the recording. He wanted to know when I intended to tell him. I had to lie to him, come up with an excuse. I told him I was trying to get the PDA to back up your story. I couldn't do anything for Michael and could only do damage control, make sure that you and I were safe. They used me Nikita, used me to get the intel on Michael. I am so sorry." While he was talking, Jurgen reached up and grasped Nikita's arms. He held her there until he finished his explanation.

"Where's Michael?" she said more slowly and calmly, meeting his direct gaze.

"They took him."

"Where's Michael?"

Jurgen released her arms and just shook his head.

Nikita turned and ran from the room. She ran directly to Madeline's office. The operatives that saw her gathered in small groups and whispered among themselves as she passed.

Nikita met Madeline as the other woman was leaving her office.

"Madeline" Nikita gasped "where's Michael?"

Madeline regarded the impulsive blond before replying. "I assume that you've talked to Jurgen?"

Nikita nodded.

"Then you know where Michael is. Now if you'll excuse me." Madeline made to move around her.

"Please, Madeline, this can't be happening. Tell me what I can do, it's my fault. Michael only did it to save me. Help me." Nikita was starting to sound desperate.

"First of all Nikita, anything the Michael did, he did for himself and knew the possible consequences of his actions. That those actions happened to benefit you is irrelevant to his crime."

"This is Michael we're talking about."

Madeline motioned to an operative that had the misfortune to be walking down the hallway. He immediately obeyed his summons. "Richard, Nikita is distraught. Please escort her to the room that she uses during close quarter standby. See that she remains there until further notice."

Richard placed his hand on Nikita's shoulder to prompt her to accompany him. She shrugged it off without taking her eyes from Madeline's face. Seeing that the other woman had no intention of saying anything further, Nikita turned and stalked to her room with the other operative following close behind. She was unsuccessful in her attempt to blink back the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

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

Michael gasped. His chest hurt. He felt disoriented. He opened his eyes. His vision was blurred but he knew where he was. He had always believed that MedLab and Hell were one and the same but had never actually thought to test the theory. Suddenly there was clarity of thought. "No" he whispered.

"I see you're awake" Ops' voice sounded from the corner. The older man walked forward and into Michael's line of sight. "Michael you have before you a unique opportunity to redeem yourself and return to the fold." He looked at Michael to see if there was any response to his statement. He was only slightly disappointed to see that there was none but, after all, it was Michael to whom he was speaking.

Michael struggled to sit up and then to stand. Laying in the bed was a vulnerable position. Unfortunately, the thought and the deed were not the same. His legs were weak and could hardly support his weight. He slumped against the bed.

Ops made no move to help his operative. He merely waited until Michael finished struggling before he continued. "It appears there is a situation and I want you to handle it. If you are successful then all will be forgiven and you will return to your previous position within Section One."

"Why?" Michael questioned quietly.

"Because you're a good agent. Section could and would go on without you but why should it have to. The offer is in Section's best interest."

"No" Michael quietly explained "why should I? I've already been canceled. It wasn't so bad."

"So the bargaining begins. I must warn you Michael, you're not in a position to dictate terms. The mission is very dangerous but also of the highest importance. The Agency had already lost four agents before they contacted me. I'll be honest. The sims suggest that one operative acting alone has the best chance of success. If you take the mission, you will have no back up. The odds of accomplishing the mission profile are low. The odds of accomplishing the mission and returning alive are even lower. If you refuse this opportunity, you will be canceled, permanently. If you don't go then I will find another agent. If you go and fail, I will find another agent. I think Nikita would be a good choice. I'm in a bit of a hurry, you have five minutes to decide." Ops turned and left.

Michael emotions were in a turmoil but he let nothing of what he was feeling show on his face. In the end, no matter how he felt about it, he would do what he must. In Section the only way to survive was to accept what you had no control over. He would take the mission. Not to earn Section's forgiveness but to protect Nikita. Again.

After five minutes had passed, Ops returned to the room accompanied by Madeline. "You'll do it?"

"Of course" Michael quietly responded.

"I knew you would. Here are the mission parameters. Study them, you'll be leaving in less than two hours." Having said what he had to say, Ops turned and left. Madeline remained.

She studied the man leaning against the bed. The MedLab whites accentuated his paleness and his breathing was too shallow. These were both documented side effects of the drug he had been given. What had not been anticipated was that his heart would stop, a less frequent side effect. It had required electrical stimulation to get it started again. Still, all in all, he looked good for a man who was suppose to be dead.

"The weakness you feel will pass shortly. The pain in your chest will also pass with time. Unfortunately, you will not have the optimal amount of time to fully recover before you will leave."

"I'll be fine."

Madeline smiled "I'm sure you will be." She handed him a PDA. "Here's the information you will require. It's the best intel available about the site, schematics, personnel, etc. Still, there is a lot of information that could not be acquired. You'll need to be prepared for almost anything. You'll be equipped by the Agency before reaching the destination and transportation will be provided. Otherwise you'll be on your own."

Michael took the offered PDA and nodded.

Madeline continued to study him. "Hypothetically speaking Michael, I want you to know that I do not believe that an attachment between operatives is always necessarily a bad thing. If the relationship doesn't interfere with missions and the operatives involved are discreet it could even be beneficial to Section."

Michael blinked rapidly several times before answering. "Such attachments make those involved easier to manipulate."

"Michael, whether the attachment is acted on or not, the relationship will be used by Section One. If that's going to be the case in any event then why shouldn't the operatives enjoy some of the... benefits... of such a relationship, hypothetically speaking of course."

"Of course" Michael agreed thoughtfully. "Does Operations agree with you about such hypothetical attachments?"

Madeline smiled confidently "Not yet."

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

Nikita was angry. Unfortunately there was nothing breakable in her room and throwing the pillow against the wall provided no satisfaction. To make it worse, she didn't know who she was angrier at, herself or Section One. She paced the room trying to rid herself of the need to do something when there was nothing that she could do. She couldn't even leave the room. An operative was stationed outside the door.

The door opened and Walter entered. She rushed to him, hugging him and crying into his shoulder. "Oh, Walter, they've killed Michael."

Walter patted her back while he held her "That's what I heard Sugar, that's what I heard."

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

Michael was given a plain business suit to wear, a small carry on of necessities, a document that allowed him to take his side arm with him on an international flight and tickets on a common carrier. In this case, taking public transportation was the fastest and most cost effective way to get him to his destination. He would receive an additional briefing, equipment and a driver from the Agency when he arrived. The flight was sixteen hours long or rather sixteen long hours. Hours in which he could do nothing but attempt to rest.

Michael was met at the airport by a large dark van. It was a type with which he was very familiar. The driver handed him a packet, showed him where the equipment was stowed and told him it would be a three and a half hour drive to the mission site. The driver was not the talkative type which suited Michael just fine. He spent the drive going over the munitions, explosives, timers and other equipment that he would be using. He then reviewed what was known of the security of the site. Just before arriving he changed into his black work clothes and armed himself.

The driver pulled the van over in a secluded deeply forested area. He informed Michael that he was taking the van to a neutral location. He would stay there up to twenty-four hours. If he didn't see fireworks before then, he would assume that Michael had failed to breach the site. After he saw the explosions, he would return to this point. He would wait up to three hours. If the operative hadn't shown up by then, he would assume Michael had not survived and leave. He didn't ask if Michael had any questions. He just got back in the van and left.

Michael made his way silently through the underbrush, keeping to shadows and constantly on the alert. His mission was to breach a very secure site, retrieve a computer CD on which was listed the Agency's European contacts and suppliers then demolish the site with explosives. It would be simple except for the amount of man power that protected the site and the sophisticated security system. A large scale frontal assault would have been disastrous. He set up several small timed charges that would provide him with some diversion and then crept in as close as he could.

Michael spent several hours inching closer to the low buildings and observing the routine of the guards. He saw one that was more isolated than the others and made his way painstakingly toward him. Then he waited a while longer. It was dusk, at shift change, when the first of his diversions began. His target turned toward the sound of the explosions just as all the other guards did. It was the last move the guard made. Michael dragged the body behind a tree, stripped it and put on the guard's clothing. He then walked calmly toward the first of the low buildings.

Entrance required a thumb print, thoughtfully provided by the thumb of the guard which Michael had eliminated. Once inside he saw a security panel that contained the wiring for the internal video system. This he disabled. He hoped that those in the monitor room would be too busy watching the external video to worry about blank internal screens. He had a basic idea of the layout of the building and headed down the hallway. Several guards were running toward him. He decided on a bluff and yelled to them that the north boundary had been breached and support was needed. He spoke in the same language which he had heard the guards speak and in the excitement not one of them questioned a man who looked and acted like he belonged. After the men had run past him, Michael turned and shot them in the back. They all went down without a word. He quickly moved the bodies into a side room. There was nothing he could do about the blood.

As Michael traveled toward the computer room he set plastic explosive charges along the walls above eye level and inside doorways. He would use a remote to detonate them rather than a timer as this allowed him more flexibility. One door was locked. Locked doors usually contained things other people wanted to keep safe. Michael shot the lock just as he heard more men coming down the hall. He ducked in the room to allow them to pass.

The room was occupied.

Two men were bound and gagged, laying on the floor. They were bloodied and bruised, obviously having been tortured. One appeared unconscious or dead but the other was alert and watching him intently. He brought his finger up to his lips signaling him to remain quiet and listened as the sound of running feet receded down the hallway. When the hallway was quiet he gave more attention to the men. The one that was unconscious had obviously lost a lot of blood. He didn't look like he could walk without support. The other was in marginally better shape.

Michael squatted in front of the captive, helping the struggling man into a sitting position. When he had been given intel on past attempts to breach the site, it had included photos of the four Agency operatives who had been lost. Of the four only one body had been recovered but the rest had been assumed dead. Obviously that information was incorrect.

Michael ripped the duct tape from the man's mouth and began to cut his bonds. He didn't bother with the one that was unconscious. He would have to be considered an acceptable loss.

The other man rubbed at his wrists, staring at Michael as if trying to place him. "The Agency?"

Michael nodded and handed him an Uzi taken from one of the dead guards. "Do you know the way to the computer bay?"

The man nodded. "We were taken there a couple of times. Zedah, the Insurgent leader, wanted us to help break the encryption code on the CD. When we refused he tried to persuade us to help. I can get us there. What about Cooper?" the agent indicated his quiet companion.

"He stays" Michael said as he opened the door and slid into the hallway.

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

Nikita was allowed out of her room after twenty-four hours. She attempted to see Madeline but the other woman refused to see her. She sought out Jurgen in hopes of obtaining comfort. He did what he could to ease her guilt and sorrow but he was too busy having to cope with all of Michael's old responsibilities. He tried to find extra time for her, but Section business had to come first. For hours at a time she would stare over Birkoff shoulder. The only person she went out of her way to avoid was Operations. Operations on the other hand spent as much time as he was able standing at his window staring down at her disconsolate form and smiling to himself. What ever pain or guilt she was feeling, he believed she deserved.

Less than two days after Michael's unexplained and mysterious absence, life in Section One went on.

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

As the two men got closer to the computer room they began to meet more resistance. Apparently someone had noticed that the internal monitors were off line and began to notice that other problems had occurred as well, such as guards not showing up at their assigned posts. The Insurgent had realized that they had been breached. The hallways were becoming too crowded to be healthy so the two entered a room and crawled into the ventilation system. The air shaft was hardly large enough for the men to claw their way forward. Had either been a pound heavier or a few inches taller they would not have fit. The going was slow, but no one was shooting at them. The chaos of the guards searching for them covered any slight sounds that they made.

Michael was the first in the shaft with the Agency operative, who had introduced himself as Bedford while waiting for Michael to make an introduction that never occurred, behind him. Eventually he found himself at the grill to the computer room. The room was now heavily guarded. Michael motioned Bedford to back up and then wiggled around until he was able to reach a small round plastic container. The ultra fast acting, odorless gas in the container would immobilize everyone in the room in a matter of seconds. There was only one problem. The container was too large to fit through the grill. Still, they were in a ventilation shaft with positive pressure. Michael held the small canister up for the other operative to see and pantomimed holding his breath. The gas had a short half life and they would be unaffected if they could keep from breathing for ninety seconds after it was released. The other agent nodded his understanding. Both took several shallow breathes with long exhales to clean out their lungs and then breathing in very deeply, Michael toggled open the canister and sat it at the grill. The gas wafted into the ventilation shaft and down into the room.

Michael watched the guards and techs in the room start to fall. One almost made it to the door only to die of a bullet in the back of his head. When the edges of his vision began to darken from lack of oxygen, Michael took a tentative breath. Since he didn't pass out, he assumed that the gas had dissipated. He worked the grill free and dropped into the room followed by the other operative. With his head he motioned for Bedford to watch the door while he went to the computer to see if he could retrieve the encrypted disc.

There must have been fifty or sixty discs in neat stacks beside the computers and that wasn't counting the ones in the disc drives. Knowing he would never have time to go through them, he swept them all into a backpack that was laying conveniently under a table. He shouldered the pack and set a small timed charge on each computer. He turned to find Bedford watching him.

"Now we leave?" Bedford asked.

Michael nodded with just a slight upturning of his mouth "now we leave, the back door."

"Do you have a plan to get out?"

Michael nodded again "we shoot everyone between us and the exit."

"Good plan" Bedford said under his breath. He prepared himself to jump into the deadly hallway but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"I've prepared a distraction, be ready." Bedford eyed Michael as he brought out a radio controlled detonator and pressed the button. The fireworks had officially started.

Even with the distraction, it was nearly impossible getting to the exit. They would cover each other, shoot, run, shoot again. Both men were hit but neither seriously. They had no time to think, only to respond. Suddenly they were out and into the night. It was no better outside. Search lights roamed, making shadows to hide in but never holding still. They did make it past the perimeter and into the more deeply shadowed woods though neither could later recall exactly how they had survived the fire fight. They continued to run from shadow to shadow for what seemed an eternity but was actually only several minutes. It was then that Bedford, who had survived torture and being shot, finally ran out of adrenaline and collapsed.

Michael stared at his fallen comrade in arms, trying to decide whether he should leave him there or not. Coming to a quick decision, Michael shouldered the Agency operative in a fireman's carry and continued to slink through the shadows as quickly as he could to the rendezvous point.

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

Three days after Michael's departure, Operations received a priority call from his Agency counterpart. He appraised Ops of his agent's success, which was even greater than had been anticipated as Michael had also retrieved a wounded Agency operative that had been thought dead. The section head indicated that their physicians would like Michael to stay a few more days for observation. Ops suggested they give him an aspirin and put him on a plane to come back. The Agency section head indicated that he was quite impressed with Michael's abilities and would like him permanently assigned to his forces. Ops politely declined. Michael belonged to Section One, body and soul.

Michael's performance had once again placed the Agency in Section One's debt. Ops wandered to his window and saw a sad looking Nikita hovering around Jurgen. She looked miserable and the attachment between she and Jurgen seemed to be getting stronger in Michael's absence. Additionally, the rumor that Michael had not been above cancellation had put all the other operatives on their toes. Things in Section had seldom run smoother. Ops smiled. At this moment, life was good.

On the fourth day after Michael's supposed cancellation the operatives were called to a general briefing. When all the operatives and support staff were settled, Operations began "There have been a lot of rumors going around lately regarding Michael's absence. I'm going to put a stop to them now. Michael has been on an over seas mission for the Agency. Rumors that he had been canceled to the contrary, he's fine and will be returning to his position within Section in the immediate future. Jurgen, please remain. The rest of you are dismissed." Nikita looked at Jurgen in shock, a look which he returned. Nikita left. Jurgen stayed. Nikita again tried to talk to Madeline. Madeline again avoided her.

Nikita arrived at Section very early the next morning. She went straight to Michael's office and was rewarded by seeing a light coming from behind the blinds. Without knocking she entered.

Michael looked up when he heard his door open. He saw Nikita standing just inside the door staring at him. He stood, walked slowly to the door and closed it. He then walked around the woman until he was facing her. His mouth was only a few inches from hers. He glanced at her lips and then at her eyes as he waited for her to speak.

"I heard you were dead" she said softly.

"I was dead" he whispered. His words seeming to give the phrase a different meaning. His breath was a feather light touch on her lips.

"I heard you were canceled for helping me escape Section" she continued, trying to ignore the way his closeness made her heart beat quickly.

"I was" he answered. He sighed and continued "I was offered indemnity." He turned and walked back to his computer, leaving Nikita standing by the door. This was not something he was ready to discuss with her yet.

Nikita wanted to apologize. Something bad had happened to Michael and it was her fault. "Jurgen and I are..."

When Michael heard her say Jurgen's name, he cut her off. "Nikita, I'm busy. If there is anything else?"

Her contrition turned to sudden anger. "I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to tell you that I'm glad that you're alive. I don't know why I bother, alive or dead what does it matter so long as the job gets done. Right Michael?" She turned and stormed from his office, slamming the door behind her.

Michael started to go after her but then sat back down. Anything he said to her now would only make her more angry. It had been so long since he had truly felt anything, it seemed that he had forgotten how to handle matters of the heart. Blinking rapidly at an imagined mote in his eye, Michael decided to accept the situation for the moment and do nothing. He returned to his report, but could no longer see what he was typing.

The end

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