"We're losing him! Pulse is weak and blood pressure's dropping." Three men worked furiously over a silent form. A pale form, unmoving, connected to tubes with fluids moving quietly through them and monitors that gave evidence to a failing life.

"Nikita, come with me. You can't help Michael now and you don't want to be in the way of the doctors." Madeline gently took the blonde's arm and tried to lead her from Medlab.

"No, Madeline, please, I want to stay." Nikita's eyes begged that she be allowed to remain while she passively resisted the other woman's attempt to lead her from the room.

"Damn, he's in v-fib" one of the doctors proclaimed much too loudly.

Madeline was briefly tempted to continued to try to get Nikita to leave the room, to come with her and complete the debriefing, to leave Michael to the doctors' care. She wanted to know exactly what had happened and none of the other operatives on the team had been in a position to see, though all had attributed Michael's actions as being responsible for not only salvaging the mission but also saving his team. However, she knew that it would be futile. Nikita would not voluntarily leave until she knew that Michael was out of danger. So soon after Petrosian's engineered attack on Operations, it was a position with which Madeline could be sympathetic. She looked at the doctors' frantic efforts. The situation would be decided soon, one way or the other. She could afford to be patient for a few more minutes.

"Defibrillator charging, clear" the paddles were applied to Michael's bare chest and his body arched upward in response to the electrical current. One of the doctors looked at a monitor and turning yelled "again."

A lone figure stood watching the chaos, unseen by anyone else in the room. He felt oddly detached from the events in spite of their importance to him. Suddenly his attention was diverted from the doctors intent on saving his life by a bright light that suddenly appeared at his side. The brightness slowly coalesced into a familiar figure.

"Mere?" he whispered half in fear and half in wonder.

"No" the figure replied gently. "I'm not your mother. I chose this form because I believed it would be familiar and a comfort to you."

Before the sentence could be completed, Michael had already turned his attention away from the figure. He was looking across the room at the beautiful blonde. Still looking at the woman, he said "You're here because I'm dying." This was said emotionlessly, as a statement of fact, yet still there was a hint of regret in his pale eyes as he stared across the room.

The figure followed his gaze to the woman. Almost sadly it confirmed "Yes, that is why I've come. You are dying." A hand was laid tentatively on Michael's shoulder. "Michael, look at me."

Michael slowly dragged his eyes away from the object of his gaze. They settled on the form beside him. There was a catch in his throat as he allowed himself to really see the figure. She was beautiful in his eyes, just as she always appeared in his memory. When he allowed himself to remember. Slight and petite, her cinnamon hair fell in waves below her shoulders. Her eyes were the eyes that he saw every time he looked in a mirror. It was with a start that he realized that she seemed only a few years older than he. She had died so young. Died.....dying.

As if reading his thoughts, the form continued "Be at peace, I've not come to take you. I've been sent to offer you a rare gift. Tell me, do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if things had been different?"

Michael blinked and looked away from the form of his mother, irrationally ashamed of the life that he had lived, the things he had chosen to do to survive in Section. The things he had done to keep others alive. Still, shame was a potential weakness and he would not give in to it. Not even now. "What would be the point. What is, is and I accept it." He looked back across the room again, and almost whispered "Still, it is not the life I would have chosen for myself."

"That's why I have been sent to you." She reached down and took his hand "Come with me Michael" she murmured.

He looked back at her sharply "You said you weren't here to take me."

"I'm not. You'll have all the time that is needed to return here before.."

"Before I die?" he interrupted.

She smiled softly "Before what ever happens, happens. I don't have the power of foreknowledge. You will live or you will die, I don't know which but I know that there is time."

"How much time?"

"The time between one breath and the next. It is all the time that we will need. Come now, there is something that I want to show you." She tugged at his hand. Taking one last look at Nikita, he reluctantly followed her into a tunnel of light.

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

Michael found himself sitting at an alfresco table at a small cafe. It was situated on a quiet side street within walking distance of the University that he had so briefly attended many years before. Once it had been a favorite place to come with friends or alone. With his friends he would sit and talk for hours on matters both great and inconsequential. When alone he would sit in thought or quietly watch the other patrons while he sipped at dark, strong coffee. He had even brought his sister here twice. He remembered how she had smiled at him. It had made her feel so grown up and special. The memories were all pleasant and yet they brought him only sadness. How young he had been then.

It suddenly occurred to him that he might have actually died and this was the hell that had been prepared for him. An eternity of regrets. Of course, it was possible that it was all a drug induced hallucination. He didn't remember being captured but perhaps memory alteration was another affect of the drug. He discarded this theory almost as quickly as he thought it. No, this.. experience..was most likely a result of an oxygen deprived and dying brain.

"Just accept it for what it is Michael. Don't try to rationalize this, you won't be able to."

His mother, no, he corrected himself, the being in the form of his mother, had suddenly appeared seated across from him.

"And no, I'm not reading your mind. I'm just familiar with, oh how shall I say this, the parameters of the current situation."

A thousand questions crowded Michael's mind. He finally decided on the most important one. "Why?"

When the being smiled, it was his mother's smile. "In each person's life there are critical points, actions or inaction that set the course of one future or another. Sometimes these are so small as to go unnoticed. Deciding to walk one direction rather than another for example. Other times the critical points are obvious, at least in hindsight. If one could go back and change a critical point in a life then the direction that life had taken would have been changed. One future eliminated in favor of another." She was no longer smiling now. Her visage was very grave. "Michael, you are being given the chance to change one, just one, critical point in your life. Think carefully on what you would change. Once the decision is made your life will be changed and once done it can not be undone."

Michael did not believe that what was happening was real. Still, it could do no harm to answer. He was surprised that he didn't even have to think of what he would change. "I would change my parent's death. I do not want them to have died, to have left my sister and I alone."

The figure shook it's head slowly. "I'm so sorry but that can not be changed. No action or inaction of yours was responsible for their death. You can only change that over which you had a choice. Think carefully." She waited expectantly.

Several seconds seemed to pass while Michael considered. Finally he responded. "Is there a way to determine the consequences of any decision that I might make before it is made?"

The figure placed her hands on the table and steepled her fingers. "That is a very astute question." Suddenly smiling she added "Your caution will serve you well. Yes, I can tell you generally how the future, your future, would be changed by your decision. Of course I can only hit the highlights." She winked at him conspiratorially "The devil is in the details you know."

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

Michael was momentarily taken aback. Given the apparent situation, he wasn't certain if she were serious. Deciding it would probably be better not to know, he concentrated instead on what he would change. That he had been brought to this place strongly suggested an intent to influence his choice. Sometimes it was easiest to do what was expected. It set others at their ease. Could cause them to make mistakes. "How would things have been different had I not joined Rene, not built the bomb?"

"Take my hand and we will go to the moment that can be changed."

Michael clasped the hand and without transition found himself standing in a small apartment. The scene reminded him of a silent movie. He could see but not hear what was occurring, would occur, had occurred. As in Medlab, he was unnoticed. There were half a dozen people crammed into the cramp quarters. Young people, in their late teens or early twenties, people whom he recognized. A much younger version of himself was bent over a table showing something to Rene. Next they appeared to be arguing. He watched as his younger self suddenly headed for the door and compared what he was seeing to his memory of the events. The scene froze.

"Is this what you would consider changing?" she asked gesturing in the direction of his younger self.

"Yes. I should have left. I was showing Rene how to make a bomb. He was impatient with how slowly the movement was progressing and convinced me that we needed to get their attention. He promised that no one would get hurt but he let something slip. He said that only blood would let them know that we were serious. We argued. I was leaving without finishing the connections. Rene stopped me, convinced me that he had only spoken in the heat of his passion for the cause and didn't really mean what he had said. Like a fool, I believed him."

"You believed the promise of your best friend" she countered gently.

"I was naive and too trusting" Michael retorted harshly.

"You were young and idealistic, passionate in your beliefs" she continued.

"I built a bomb and people died because of it" Michael responded, unwilling to in anyway deminish his responsibility in the tragedy.

"Yes" she agreed quietly. "You did. Is that what you would change?"

"Perhaps. How would things be different if I had continued out the door?"

"For you, everything changes but Rene still sets off the bomb and people still die."

"Could I stop him?"

"No, not without making him a martyr. He is, was a fanatic for his convictions."

"How would things be different for me?"

"To begin with you would not have gone to prison and been taken into Section. You would graduate, open your own gallery, work part-time teaching and part-time buying for major galleries and corporations. Isn't that ironic? In this possible reality you are an art buyer."

"That's all?"

"Of course not" she said, taking his hand.

Michael found himself standing on the corner of what appeared to be a fashionable, upper middle class neighborhood of a Parisian suburb. In the house across the street, a woman exited. She was tall and blonde, beautiful in a classical fashion. When Michael saw her, he felt as if he should know her even though he knew that they had never met before. A small boy, perhaps four or five, clutched at her hand. His blonde hair fell in waves. From the distance, Michael couldn't see the color of his eyes but knew that they would be blue. In her arms the woman carried a little girl, certainly no more than a year old. White lace peek from beneath the child's coat. She had a hand full of the woman's hair and was trying her best to bring the fist that held it to her mouth. The woman walked slowly down the street, laughing with her children. As Michael watched them go, he felt a pang of loss which he didn't understand.

"You wait several years before you marry, always feeling as if you're looking for someone special, someone whom you see only in your dreams, but one day the dreams just stop. You love your wife, but are not passionate for her. You have two children, a son and a daughter. You name your daughter after your mother. You remain close to your sister. She and her family are as important to you as your own. You live, you laugh, you work, you have friends, you are mostly happy and eventually you die."

"I harm no one."

"True, but neither do you accomplish any great good. No one's life is truly changed for better or worse. You live a life of relatively quiet obscurity." She studied the faintest hint of longing in Michael's eyes as he watched the woman and children retreating into the distance. "Take my hand again."

"Why"

"My version of informed consent. Come with me. If you choose this path it won't be just your life that will be changed."

**********

Michael found himself standing on a catwalk above the main floor of Section One. On first glance everything looked the same yet there were subtle differences.

"This is how Section would be this day if you were not recruited. You were one of the best. You made a difference here."

Michael scanned the faces below him looking for those familiar to him. He wanted to see Chuck, Simone or Nikita. He saw none of them but he did see a face that surprised him, Rene.

He turned to the being with his mother's face with a question in his eyes.

"Yes, Rene was caught and tried after the bomb. He was brought into Section after 'dying' in prison. Unfortunately, he was never more than a marginal operative. Usually just one step from abeyance. Yet even here he had a type of charisma that enabled him to influence the younger operatives. Several were canceled for acting on the sedition he whispered in their ears while his hands remained clean, at least in a manner of speaking."

Michael continued to search the faces below him.

"Are you looking for someone in particular?"

Michael remained silent. Leery of revealing himself even now.

"If you are looking for Simone, you won't find her. She was killed during a mission several years ago."

Michael blinked rapidly but didn't reveal his disappointment. "What happened? Was it the mission against Glass Curtain?"

"No, she died eight years before that mission during the Peleggi incident. You remember that I'm sure."

Michael nodded absently. That mission propelled him into an early promotion as team leader. The primary leader on the mission had been killed and the team one operatives pinned down during an ambush. He was on team two. He assumed command of the mission even though there were more senior operatives present. He was able to rally the operatives, engage the enemy so that team one could escape and fulfill the mission profile. Simone was one of the operatives on team one. It was the first time that they had worked together.

"When Dillon was killed in the ambush, none of the other operatives assumed command. The mission was aborted and the operatives on team one deemed an acceptable loss. They all died."

"What about Nikita?"

"Nikita's life was unchanged up until the point that you would have become her trainer. She was still convicted and inducted into Section One. Come with me again." She held out her hand for his.

Michael found himself and his host in the shadows of Madeline's old office. Michael stepped back even further, trying to hide himself, when he realized that Operations and Madeline were both present. He saw his mother's smile again and straightened himself, realizing how foolish he was being. Instead he concentrated on the scene before him.

Ops and Madeline both turned toward the door as it opened, their quiet conversation interrupted. Michael recognized the operative that entered. His name was Brian. Michael remembered that he had been killed by his material, a psychopath named Karen.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Brian asked.

Operations stood before addressing the trainer. "Yes, you have material that is coming to term soon. I was wanting a progress report and recommendations."

Brian looked thoughtful for several seconds. "Well, sir, her technical skills in fire arms and hand to hand are very good. She seems able to grasp mission parameters quickly and has done well on her sims."

"But.." Operations prompted.

"I'm not sure. There's something missing. A certain ruthlessness perhaps? I find it hard to believe that she was actually a cold blooded cop killer."

"Are you recommending that the material be canceled?"

Brian didn't respond but Madeline did. "We already have two years invested in Nikita. With her looks and skill levels, she could be a valuable asset. I suggest that we give her a chance to prove herself. If she doesn't come up to our expectations, the situation can always be corrected."

Ops looked at his second. "Is that your official recommendation?"

Madeline gave a half smile "Yes."

Ops considered it a second. "OK. Brian, set her up for her final exam. If she survives we'll take it from there."

"I believe the restaurant scenario would be appropriate" Madeline instructed the trainer. "Make sure you get her flowers, red roses would be best."

Brian nodded his agreement, turned and left.

"Nikita was Brian's material" Michael stated. He already knew the answer.

"Yes" the being with his mother's face replied. "You know what happened next. Brian told Nikita she was finished with her training and to celebrate they were going out to dinner. I'm sure you remember the limo, the roses, the candle lit table, the gun given in lieu of a present with instructions to kill a certain patron, and the faulty intel on how she was to escape to determine if she was able to think on her feet."

Michael's face revealed nothing. He was well practiced at hiding his feelings.

"Here she also passed her final examination but she had difficulty from the beginning once she was put in the field. She was so concerned about how her and others' actions would affect innocents that she couldn't stay focused on the missions and Brian wasn't willing to place himself on the line for her mistakes. Operations was as tolerant as he felt he should be, which is to say not very. The final straw came during the Mijovich security mission."

Michael rubbed his index finger slowly across his lower lip. "An assassin had taken the place of a childhood friend of Nikita's. She thought she was protecting a friend from Section when in reality she was being used to find Mijovich's location so that the hit could be carried out. Nikita was captured, tortured. I found her and helped her cover her mistake."

"Here her mistake was discovered. Discovered hiding in Nikita's apartment in a crawl space. Nikita jeopardized the mission. She disobeyed. She wasn't forgiven. She was canceled before her six month evaluation. It was inevitable." She paused. "Michael consider this before you make your decision. While you were in Section, to get the job done, innocent people were hurt or died. However, more innocents lived because of the terrorists you stopped."

"Michael, although it may appear so, I am not attempting to influence your decision. The final decision is yours and yours alone. I just believe that you should fully understand the consequences of any choice that you make."

A son, a daughter, a full life rather than the half life he found himself embracing. Nikita. "I've made my choice."

"There are other critical points that could be considered. You don't need to decide just yet."

"There is nothing else that I need to know."

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

"Clear." There was a pause. "All right, we have a normal sinus rhythm." One of the doctors detached himself from the rest and strode purposefully over to the women standing along the wall. He looked at Madeline but his words were for Nikita. "He's still in serious condition but for now he's stable. Unless there's an unforeseen complication, I'm sure he'll make a full recovery."

Nikita exhaled a breath that she wasn't even aware she had been holding. Madeline spoke for them "Thank you doctor. Please keep me apprised of his condition." The doctor nodded and turned back to his patient. "Nikita" she said in a voice that was gentle but at the same time authoritative "Michael's going to be fine. Come with me now." She took Nikita's arm and guided her from the room. Nikita allowed herself to be lead. She would be back later. When Michael awoke, she would be beside him.

Consciousness returned slowly and reluctantly. Awareness of physical sensation, the feel of the bed, the hum of the ventilation system, a vague diffuse pain. He opened his eyes but the light stabbed him so brightly that he immediately shut them again. Thought returned more slowly still. There was something important. Something that he needed to remember that was slipping away from him even as he struggled to bring it into focus. Something about his mother, no that wasn't quite right. Something about Nikita?

"Michael?" Nikita said quietly, seeing him stir.

Michael opened his eyes again, this time more slowly. Nikita's blurred image slowly became sharper but did not immediately resolve. A blur of light surrounded her golden hair like a halo. Again, it seemed to remind him of something, an angel? The memory teased him, just out of reach. Then it was gone. He felt a sense of profound loss which also passed quickly to be replaced with the conviction that his life finally made sense. He was exactly where he was suppose to be and doing what he was meant to be doing.

Nikita reached out and tentatively took his hand. He returned her slight pressure with a more reassuring grasp.

"How do you feel?"

"I'll be fine" and for once, he really meant it.

End

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