ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.
"Sleeping Beauty"* NC-17
Series spoiler
Disclaimer: This story that is quite different from my normal fare, i.e., No Tribbles, a dark story line, maybe even a plot or two.=> *GASP*
General language and nasty situation warnings apply throughout. Entire series spoiler warnings and 2 NC-17 chapters make this an NC-17 story =>
Thanks to {{{Lucinda}}} for Beta services - sorry about the 'tense' thing => and to Katherine Gilbert for her encouragement and prodding.=>
Shameless plug: DalBello's first album "Whomanfoursays" has been incredibly inspirational for this arc, so much so that I am naming some of the chapters after the songs on this CD and have highlighted the lyrics in the chapters. (I must admit, I tried to find the lyrics but could not and so they are lyrics by my ears and I apologize if I screwed them up) I rearranged the play order to make the stories flow better. In addition, songs from her latest CD "Whore" are included as well songs from her second CD "She". If you like women vocalists who are blunt and willing to experiment with their voices and media, I highly recommend this artist. She can be found at www.dalbello.com
As always I do not have permission from TPTB for the use of their characters nor do I have permission from Dalbello for the use of her lyrics. No copyright infringement is meant and no profit is being made from this little ditty.=>
************
PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE
Then he looked at her with those eyes
Nikita stared at the newly painted white wall, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face. The anguish of her situation was a pain thundering over her heart. The look on Michael’s face when she told him she didn’t love him anymore was burned forever on her soul. Nikita crumpled forward, slowly sliding down the wall, smearing paint all over her clothes and skin as she collapsed into the fetal position. *What have they done to me?*
She had tried to avoid the moment of confrontation as much as she could. When she had woken up in the empty room at Genefex, her bones chilled from the cold sterile floor, she had felt it, the emptiness, the hole in her heart. But she had not known what it was. Only that she was weighed down with an unimaginable burden. At that time, she could not remember what had happened, how she had gotten there or why she was there.
She had, however, known an undeniable urging to get up and search the office just in front of her. So compelling was the urge that Nikita had dragged herself up off of the floor and proceeded to the office door without a single conscious thought, reacting automatically. The door, conveniently unlocked, had swung open at her slightest touch and she had frowned, confused by the simplicity of the action. Somehow that did not seem right, something was seriously wrong. Nothing was this easy on a mission. Dutifully she had proceeded, following the compulsion, and had found a file, conspicuous in its accessibility, that seemed to calm her nerves.
Her first sight of Michael in the doorway had been curiously anti-climatic. She almost didn't recognize him and then when she remembered who he was, instead of the heart-stopping recognition that usually accompanied the sight of him, she had felt a little ... put out actually, like she had resented him checking up on her. This feeling had so surprised and confused her that she had done her best to act casually indifferent to the whole situation and to seeing him there. She had blithely assured him that she was okay and explained what she was doing in an offhand manner. It had not occurred to her that he would be suspicious of this.
*******
Tap out her sympathy with 99 proof ink
Nikita approached Walter, despite every instinct in her body warning her not to, her vision tunneling, her blood pounding in her veins - throbbing through her head - reverberating off the walls of her heart. She repeated 'blood, blood, blood' to herself as though a mantra.
"Sugar! You okay?!?" Walter hustled her to one of his work stools, his face twisted in concern. "Let me call Medlab." He reached for the intercom.
"NO!!"
Walter jerked back from the box looking at her in surprise.
Nikita smiled wanly. "I'm sorry Walter. I didn't mean to startle you. I just don't want you to call Medlab, " Nikita explained, her voice a husky whisper.
Walter frowned but stepped away from the intercom and closer to Nikita. "What's going on Sugar? You look like hell."
Nikita laughed lightly, "Thanks." She waved off his apologies. "I need you to do something for me."
"What?"
Nikita frowned, trying to concentrate. *What did I need Walter to do? It was something, something to do with ... what was that word? I was saying it, over and over again ... blue ... black ... red ... blood!* "Blood."
"Blood?"
Nikita nodded, fighting down the nausea that had crept up on her during this conversation. "Blood." A wave of dizziness washed over her and she grasped Walter's work table for support, swaying slightly in her seat.
"Whose blood? I really think I should call Medlab," Walter stated, his tone completely void of any teasing inflection.
Nikita grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight enough to cause an involuntary gasp to escape from Walter's lips.
"No. Not Medlab. Take my blood."
Walter began to protest but Nikita started to turn green and he tugged his hand free to get the equipment. Pulling her suddenly compliant body with him, he headed to the back room where he quickly drew two vials of her blood.
Nikita bent her arm, pressing the pad tight and shook her head against the nausea. She leaned against the wall, breathing through her mouth, her eyes closed against the incipient darkness crowding around her.
When Walter came back from safely storing the blood for later examination he was startled to see Nikita looking healthy and vibrant, picking at the pad on her arm in puzzlement. "What do you want me to do with the blood?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in contemplation at her sudden turn around.
"Blood?" Nikita frowned at him, pulling the pad completely off and tossing it into a wastecan. "What blood?"
Walter nodded his head in agreement, "Oh nothing Sugar, just thinking out loud."
*********
You're a bastard
Michael stared impassively at Operations as he continued the briefing, pacing and smirking. He could feel Nikita’s growing apathy, Birkoff’s agitation and Walter’s concern, but all he could do was concentrate on not lunging across the table and grabbing Operations’ throat and bashing his head against the wall. He closed his eyes momentarily as the thought caused an almost sexual thrill to chase through his system. *What have they done to her?*
***********
What's a little to girl to do?
"Drink this." Madeline handed Nikita a paper cup.
Nikita looked down at the clear, odorless liquid. "What is it?"
"It's a new vitamin supplement. I've noticed that you've been feeling a little down lately," Madeline explained smoothly.
"Hmm, that is true." Nikita started to ask another question but then realized that she had no reason to doubt Madeline. *Madeline always looks out for me.* Nikita swallowed the drink, "Thank you for thinking of me, Madeline."
Madeline smiled. "My pleasure."
What's a little girl to do?
************
TARGET
You never leave me alone
"We were pretty good together, don't you agree?"
Michael gazed at Madeline, his thoughts elsewhere as her question slowly penetrated his brain. *What is she up to?* "Of course," he replied neutrally.
Madeline smiled her Mona Lisa smile and leaned slightly forward in her chair. Her eyes leisurely assessed him. "I think that there is no reason for you to practice denial Michael, not when there are . . . alternatives," she suggested, her voice going low and smokey.
Although outwardly Michael remained unmoved, internally he was sitting up and giving this conversation with Madeline his full attention. The look in her eyes and that tone of voice were all too familiar. He remembered clearly what normally followed these indicators . . . valentine training. Sometimes, if he was lucky, sex for sex's sake but usually it was sex for her sake.
"Denial?" Michael questioned as he fought to maintain his suddenly churning stomach. *Please tell me this is not what I think it is. Please!*
Madeline glanced at him from under her lashes, the movement deliberately flirtatious. "I'm sure you don't need me to point out how attractive you are Michael. After all, you are a man just beginning to hit your prime. You have certain needs. You've certainly proven that on numerous occasions, Nikita being the most recent example."
Michael gritted his teeth as he heard Madeline lump Nikita together with the group of casual sexual encounters he had supposedly had. Trying to reduce what they had, what they STILL have dammit!, into a cheap sexual exploit to pass the time.
You want me for your own
"Believe me Madeline, I am not practicing denial," Michael stated, allowing the slightest amount of amusement to color his tone. He knew it would do no good to try to explain to Madeline that if he could not have Nikita then he did not want anyone. Although, he could no doubt force Nikita, using his position as both her superior and mentor, but he would never do so.
Madeline slowly sat back in her chair, clearly uncertain how to respond to his statement. Her look so intense, a lesser man would have squirmed under her regard.
He knew she was trying to dissect him and discover if he was putting her off or if he had already moved on to someone else. *Let her stew.*
"I am pleased that is the case, Michael. I would not wish for you to be pursuing a futile situation." Madeline slipped her non-veiled threat in with the accuracy of a Master.
"I understand," Michael stated, his exterior as placid and unruffled as ever. *I understand that I'm not going to let you get away with it. Not to Nikita!*
Somehow you never expected thunder from a quiet sky
Madeline got up and walked around her desk, deliberately moving into his personal space as she leaned against her desk, placing her arms behind her for balance. Her pose consciously displayed her body to her best advantage.
Michael dispassionately acknowledged and admired Madeline's sensual expertise and appeal. However, it left him cold, as it has always done. He suspected this is one reason Madeline has always been intrigued with him, he never fell.
"It is never too late to learn some new techniques, Michael. I could arrange for you to have some downtime, some time away, perhaps a few lessons off-site," Madeline murmured as she offered him another chance.
One look into your transparent eyes
Michael lowered his gaze for a moment and then looked back up. "I'm afraid I must decline." He stood and by careful positioning avoided physical contact with her. "Is that all?"
Madeline narrowed her eyes. "Yes," she replied, the word cut off almost before the last letter.
Michael stopped on the stairs exiting her office and looked back at Madeline. "But thank you for the offer," he stated politely, distantly, his mind obviously somewhere else. The polite expected response fell flat on the floor between the two of them and died a quiet death, of boredom.
I find my target
Madeline waited until the door closed behind him before she said a single expletive. *How Dare He! He chose that little gutter whore over me! Very well, let me give you the enjoyment of your choice, Michael.*
Madeline pulled up a secure line and dialed a number, controlling herself so she did not tap her fingers impatiently.
"Yeah?" Nikita's lightly accented voice began to flow through the filtered air.
"Sarah?" Madeline's smooth, silky voice slithered through the line, insidious in its destination.
"Yes." Nikita's voice flattened as she responded as programmed.
"Come in."
************
GUILTY BY ASSOCIATION
She turned, a twisted smile, I felt her envy
Madeline smiled as she opened the 'back door' to her office. "Come in, Sarah. Did you have any problems getting in?"
Nikita entered Madeline's office, a vacant look about her. "No, no problems," she replied, her tone slightly flattened.
"Here you go." Madeline handed her a cup very matter-of-factly, not expecting any difficulties.
Nikita hesitated slightly and Madeline frowned, *Still rebellious. She's a tough nut to crack but I love a challenge.* "It's your vitamins. You've been feeling better haven't you?" Madeline asked. "Surely, you don't think I'm going to harm you? Haven't I proven your wellbeing is my only concern?" Madeline made sure to stress her concern for Nikita, inflicting just the right tone of hurt feelings into her voice. *Nothing like a guilt trip.*
"Yes. Of course, I feel much better. Thank you for thinking of me Madeline," Nikita responded by rote as she downed the contents of the cup.
"My pleasure," Madeline assured her, smiling widely.
A shiver of ... distrust ran through Nikita on an instinctive level at the sight. *Madeline never really smiles.*
His mouth was a tight, cruel line
"How is she doing?" Operations asked, his eyes fixed on the figure on the other side of the glass.
"Relatively well." Madeline looked at him briefly before returning her attention to Nikita.
A series of events strung together
Inside the room, Nikita watched the faces of Gray Wellman and his daughter flash across the wall and listened as the tape of Madeline's smooth voice reminded her how Michael almost killed Gray, how Michael arranged for Cassie to be snatched at the mall, how Michael threatened her relationship with Gray ...
"Relatively?" Operations asked lighting up, ignoring the flicker of distaste on Madeline's face.
"She still retains some independence but I'm working on it." Madeline flicked a switch and changed the programming. Pictures of Lisa Fanning start flashing across the wall.
Operations smiled sardonically, "Well, we knew that would be a problem." His smile vanished, "I expect you to fix that. Michael is going to start planning before too long, if he hasn't already."
Madeline favored him with a vastly superior smile. "I had a chat with Michael recently. I will need to do some research and maybe some ... *Hands on training* testing, but I believe he can be diverted."
"Excellent." Operations left, trailing smoke behind him.
With one easy stroke
Madeline stabbed the off button with a vicious little stroke, but her voice was as smooth as silk, compelling, entrancing, captivating, "That will be all Sarah. You may go home now." She turned off the intercom and watched as Nikita brushed a hand across her face, wiping the tears away before she stood up.
His mouth
Operations watched as Nikita walked out of Section, using the front door, and smiled sadistically. *At last that thorn in my side is becoming useful.*
He buzzed Madeline's office, "Is she ready?"
"I believe so."
"Good, send her out."
With one easy stroke, one slight gesture, my entire world was zero
Birkoff watched Nikita leave Section with a worried look on his face. Routine security monitoring had revealed Nikita's entry through Madeline's private entrance. He absently chewed on a Twizzler as he reviewed Nikita's state of void lately and now she is meeting with Madeline secretly. His lips compressed into a determined line, and he did a quick search through surveillance records for today looking for Nikita. Finding the standard surveillance tape on Nikita's session in a white room, he watched in horror as the file was deleted in front of his eyes by Madeline's pass key. He dropped his head onto his desk, banging it lightly against the top a couple of times in a fit of computer self-flagellation, *What did I do to you? I should have been a better friend.* Taking a deep breath, Birkoff sat back up, squared his shoulders and made a decision.
*************
DEVIOUS NATURE
He wasn't one for a story book romance
Michael listened as Nikita flirted with the mark. If he were a different kind of man he would have paced, or, at the very least, twitched in his seat as he listened to the bantering which had taken on a decidedly sexual aspect. Instead, he sat quietly as Nikita behaved friendlier to the terrorist scum than she had been to him for the past few days.
Michael rubbed his lips as he winced at the simpering, coquettish tone of Nikita's voice, suddenly happy that she was not talking to him like that and happy she was not behaving that way with him. It was simply not her. *Not her, at all.*
*As a matter of fact she is displaying some classic symptoms.* Michael started a mental list, *1. She didn't express any distress about being assigned as a Valentine. She was almost passive about it. 2. She was extremely concerned that she pleased Madeline. She checked with her several times before she actually left for the mission. 3. She has stopped almost all of her contact with other operatives, snubbing both Walter and Birkoff. When she does respond to them, she glances around as though she is afraid of being 'caught' conversing with them.*
Michael buttoned and unbuttoned his jacket as his mind expanded upon the distasteful truth unfolding.
No chance to grow
Walter looked at the blood work again. He shook his head in bewilderment. He recognized the ingredients. He even recognized this particular drug, but George had recalled all of the strains from Section use. It had been determined that this particular drug was ineffective in the long run. *Why would they use this drug? It doesn't work.*
Walter stared unseeing at the dismantled gun on his work bench. He remembered Nikita's turn around the other day. *They must be supplementing the drug with something else.* He thought for a moment and then nodded to himself, *Yes, one of Madeline's favorites. Nothing like the oldies but goodies, eh Madeline?*
They were always told not break the silence
Birkoff swallowed nervously, his hand motionless in the air, poised at Michael's office door. It was taking more courage than he cared to admit to knock on the door. He knew that Michael still held a grudge against him due to his actions regarding the PDAs. Michael was not someone you wanted mad at you. Birkoff knew this, but he did not know how to apologize. Maybe this would help get him back in Michael's good graces or, at least, have Michael feel indifferent about him. Anything was better than knowing the reason Michael hadn't killed him yet was because it would upset Nikita. Especially with the way Nikita was behaving lately.
Birkoff knocked on the door and waited for the curt summons.
Michael's gaze caused Birkoff's blood to freeze in his veins, only his sense of needing redemption and his concern for his own safety compelled him to continue. "Michael, I just wanted to remind you that if you are going to change Madeline to Nikita's call in operative, you need to fill out form 98-76Zi99."
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly at the statement, but Birkoff had hurried on, wanting to get it all out before he lost his nerve. "And you need to fill out the form BEFORE you change protocol!" Birkoff added a snippy sound to his voice for the surveillance and stomped out of the room. He had caught Michael's slight nod of comprehension and had beat a hasty retreat, happy to be out of there and happy to have had the courage to do it. He wanted to crow out loud about his good deed but instead held it deep inside and hoped it was a step in the right direction for a change, a step on the path of righteousness instead of where he had been headed.
Devious nature
"I don't understand. Why didn't the mission go valentine?" Operations barked.
"There was an unforeseen complication," Madeline stated to his back.
Operations spun around. "You are slipping, Madeline. What unforeseen complication?" Before she could answer, he interrupted, "Was it Nikita?"
Madeline's lips twisted slightly in aggravation. "No, it was not Nikita. She was prepared to valentine. The mark had a ... 'medical' ... problem that stalled the profile. He was flattered by her attentions, however, and she was able to achieve closure."
Operations sneered, "A 'Medical' problem? How delicate of you, Madeline."
"Very well ... he was impotent."
"You know I want Nikita to Valentine. That will completely destroy their relationship. Make it happen," Operations declared imperiously, flipping his hand in a dismissive movement as he turned his back on her.
"Of course."
************
WAIT FOR AN ANSWER
Michael folded the phone and placed it carefully on the desk. He precisely uncurled his fingers from around the casing. His back was stiff and straight, his expression seamless, his eyes filled with agony and despair. All of his worst fears had been confirmed.
Earlier
Someone told me to call
"Michael, can I speak with you?" Walter's voice drifted across the work bench, carried on a whisper.
Michael nodded, just a tilt of the head but Walter had seen and understood.
"I think I have one of those," Walter stated in a normal voice as he had casually moved to the back of his stacks.
After a pause Michael followed him, finding him easily by the obvious sounds of rummaging Walter was making.
"Nikita's being drugged and something else," Walter confided as he continued to move lightweight items around with one hand.
"Else?" Michael questioned.
Walter nodded, "Yeah," he said, his voice full of repressed rage and sorrow.
The two men looked at each other and an understanding of the situation passed between them though neither would speak the words outloud. To say them outloud made them real and neither could handle that thought right now.
Michael accepted the night goggles from Walter, pocketing the slip of paper from one of the lenses and turned away toward the front without another word.
No one knows you, what you go through, but I do
"Birkoff, have you seen Nikita?" Michael asked. He was standing directly behind the young computer specialist.
"No," Birkoff replied shortly, fear coloring his tone.
Michael paused for a moment and then turned away.
Birkoff swallowed hard, his finger hovered over the ENTER key and then with a look of determination he depressed it. "Michael," Birkoff stated, surprised that the one single word could stop Michael so completely in his tracks.
Michael spun around with the precision of an Olympic skater.
Birkoff swung away from his monitor slightly, so the message on his screen was visible. "Have you filled out that form yet?"
Michael's eyes narrowed at the mention of their previous moment but instead of answering, he followed Birkoff's obvious movement intended to capture his attention. He read the message and glanced back at Birkoff. "I'll get right to it," he confirmed.
Birkoff turned back to his screen and slowly released his breath, watching as the "file transferred" just visible in the glowing after-light faded away.
They were laughing at you and I held up my head
Operations and Madeline watched as Michael walked away from COM.
"Does he know yet?" Operations asked, his eyes locked on Michael's retreating form.
"Not yet," Madeline answered, her eyes hardening slightly as Michael paused to talk to a new operative. A young, slim, beautiful red-headed operative. An operative that bloomed under Michael's attention. An operative that reached out her hand and lightly touched Michael's sleeve. Madeline's jaw tightened. *It's not fair! Not after everything I've done.*
Operations swung away from his window and started toward his desk. "It appears you are right. Michael seems to be developing other interests. Now, if he can just keep it casual this time," he stated, glancing at Madeline's set features out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes." Madeline forced herself to breath through her nose and regain control. "That's a good thing. When Nikita requests a transfer, there will be no opposition." She glanced at Operations, a slightly superior smile gracing her lips as she refrained from gloating about her plan working.
Operations smiled back. "I can't wait."
They both laughed politely, their eyes locked with shared malicious satisfaction.
Where are you?
Michael hit the number to call Nikita in, his hand slighty trembling.
The phone rang
rang
rang
rang
rang
and rang.
"Hello?" Nikita answered as though confused.
"Josephine."
"Sorry, wrong number." Nikita stated cheerfully and hung up.
What's that you say?
Michael hit redial.
The phone rang
rang
rang.
"Hello??"
"Nikita?"
A pause, "Yes?" as though she was not sure she should be answering to that name.
"It's Michael," he prompted, unable to believe she could not recognize his voice after all this time, unable to believe ...
"Who?"
Michael refrained from pulling the phone away and looking at it in astonishment. Nikita's voice had been totally honest. She had no idea who he was.
Where are you?
Someone told me to call
**************
SHE PRETENDS
She pretends it is you
"Oh Baby, Baby, Baby. You like it don't you?" Robert's voice dripped in her ear, along with his saliva.
Nikita moaned in reply, forcing the grimace off of her face.
She moved her head, remembering to toss it on the pillow in 'passion', in an attempt to evade both the sweat which trickled off of him and his drool.
She moaned again, like clockwork, knowing he was too caught up in his own enjoyment to discern her non-involvement.
*Michael treated me so much better than this. Even when he was lying to me.* Nikita started. *Where did that come from? Who is Michael?*
For just a millisecond the man grinding away on her disappeared and a pair of soft green eyes flashed across her field of vision and along with them a brief moment of actual arousal.
She pretends it is you
*Michael? Michael? The name seems familiar. Oh, yes, that's right. Madeline told me that a man named Michael used women, used me. But why does that feel wrong?*
"Come on Baby, roll over. Daddy wants to take it home." Robert's voice pulled her back to the job.
Nikita repressed a shudder of pure disgust and changed positions obediently. She mouthed the inane proper phrases.
She forced herself not to tense up as he thrust his cock back into her, using the techniques that Madeline had drilled into her. The thought of Madeline's training and concern for her inspired Nikita to put a little extra enthusiasm into her role until she could not take it anymore. Even the thought of displeasing Madeline could not make her pretend more than minimal involvement.
*This pig could care less who I was, as long as there was someone/something for him to shove his prick into and get off,* she admitted with the taste of bile in her mouth.
*Pig is a good description. He's grunting away like he's at the feeding trough right now.* Nikita suppressed a giggle at the sudden image and wondered how she could be thinking such things in the middle of the mission.
*Michael's soft exclamations and whispers are so preferable ... There it is again? Who is Michael? Is he an old boyfriend I've forgotten?*
A vision of elegant hands, trembling slightly, flashed across her mind. *Are those Michael's? Why does Madeline insist that he would hurt me? Surely if he had hurt me, I would not remember him so tenderly?*
She pretends you are laughing and crying together
Nikita searched her mind for any hint of a 'Michael.' Someone had called her not too long ago, claiming to be Michael. He had seemed surprised she did not know who he was. *He must be an old boyfriend.*
Robert's hands grasped her hips, his thrusting increased to a painful bone-jarring intensity.
Nikita bit back an exclamation of pain, disguising it as a moan.
*Madeline told me I didn't have a current boyfriend so he must be an old flame. So why was he calling me?*
"Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah," Robert droned on.
*Is he back in town? Did he want to see me again? Were we ...* Nikita felt a thrill of forbidden delight run through her at the thought *seeing each other without Madeline knowing about it?*
"Oh Baaaaaaaaaaaaaabbbbbbbbbbbbbbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyy." Robert's voice rose several notches.
As she recognized the physical signs of his orgasm, Nikita forced herself to respond in the approved manner. She moved her hips toward him, absorbing the impact with a hidden grimace, began to breath faster and louder, added in some moans and as he barreled into ejaculation, and screamed out to soothe his inflated ego, "Miccc .... My God!"
*Oooppps, better keep my mind on the job.*
Nikita rolled Robert's inert body off of her, wiped her hand off on the sheet and withdrew from the bed. His snores resounded through the room blocking out Birkoff's voice with their volume.
She was one of your disciples long before you drew her in
Nikita finished downloading the files to Birkoff and signed off. Robert had not moved other than to groan and twitch. Nikita fought down the urge, again, to take a shower and dressed in the backless and almost frontless dress Madeline had chosen for her and slipped out of Robert's apartment. The guard at the door smirked at her and ran his hand across her butt as she walked past him. Nikita swallowed the desire to ram her stiletto down his throat and wondered why, if she was a Valentine Op as Madeline told her, this mission seemed particularly repulsive to her.
Nikita squared her shoulders and made a decision. *Next time Michael calls, I'm going to talk to him!*
Romance is your name
************
ELEVEN
I follow, head over heels
I feel your calling for me
Michael clenched his teeth together to stop their grinding.
Birkoff fidgeted and surreptitiously moved further away from Michael's increasingly tense form.
Over Channel A, they listened as Robert Meadows approached his climax.
*Selfish Pig!* Michael was torn about his feelings regarding the fact that Nikita had yet to utter one single sound of genuine arousal or satisfaction. On the one hand he was delighted to know that this inconsiderate, self-absorbed, boarish pig had been unable to tap into Nikita's passion, something he selfishly felt belonged to him. On the other hand he wished that Nikita would not suffer through any mission, much less this one.
"Oh Baaaaaaaaaaaaaabbbbbbbbbbbbbbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyy." Robert's voice made the hair on the back of Michael's neck stand up. *At least it's almost over!*
"Miccc .... My God!" Nikita responded. Michael stopped his pacing, his mind freezing on the word. *Was she going to say his name? Did she know he was listening? Was she sending him a message?* She couldn't know he was listening, he admonished himself. He had been unable to say anything to her, the words choking in his throat. Every order and piece of intel had come from Birkoff instead. *Had Robert somehow dredged up some memory of me for her?* Michael shook his head in disbelief that anything Robert did would have reminded Nikita of him. He knew he was a much better sexual athlete than Robert could ever hope to be, Section had seen to that. He could only hope that nothing about Robert's person could possible remind Nikita of him. *What happened? What was she going to say?*
I count the seconds and the minutes seem like hours to me
Michael watched the surveillance tape Birkoff had forwarded to him, again. *The whole session is a masterpiece of Information Control.*
He had to admit admiration for Madeline's tactics. Nothing Madeline had said during the session had been a lie. Michael had set Nikita up for betrayal during their war with Red Cell. He had semi-seduced her out of escaping with Eric. He had seduced and then discarded Lisa Fanning. He knew this wasn't the only session Madeline had engaged in with Nikita, the date stamp was too new. So that meant the other sessions probably contained similar information. It was all true and that truth would only make the programming easier and deeper. He winced as the odds stacked against him.
Michael watched the surveillance tape Birkoff had forwarded to him, again.
This time he forced himself to review the tape objectively, dispassionately. He turned the sound off so he could not hear Madeline's voice condemning him in Nikita's eyes. Instead he forwarded the tape one frame at a time, reviewing the entire footage in a dissected manner. There, on the table by Nikita's chair, that must be the cup which contained the drug they were using. It was a standard issue medical lab disposable cup. Madeline seemed to be administering it personally which correlated with Walter's diagnosis that the ill-fated drug was only effective for short periods of time and most potent following its immediate entrance into the blood system.
He saw how tired Nikita was, the blue-black circles under her eyes. *Time Control, keep her so busy she's exhausted. Right on schedule Madeline.*
He watched clinically as Madeline accompanied her condemnation of him with subtle soft caresses to Nikita's hair and face. Her entire manner was that of a mother dispensing wisdom about men to a daughter. *Very clever Madeline - very effective Love Bombing, right out of the Mind Control Handbook.*
Don't save my soul
Michael, having finally reached saturation point on the tape, turned the sound back on. He listened as Madeline listed his sins. He listened to the words, hearing the emphasis Madeline placed on each syllable, gauging her stress of certain words, correlating them with the soft touches and strokes she was dispensing. He listened to Madeline, his attention fiercely focused on her words. "You and I are women of strength. Michael is a user of beautiful women. It is better if you don't know Michael outside of Section. Michael uses and discards women. I only tell you this for your own good. You must protect yourself from Michael. To be smart, you only know Michael in Section. You must not let Michael use you. You shouldn't know Michael outside of Section. You must not let Michael turn you into your mother. Men are always using women for their own selfish needs. Michael uses beautiful women and then throws them away when a prettier, younger plaything comes along. To be smart, you only know Michael in Section. You must protect yourself from Michael. You shouldn't know Michael outside of Section. Women are victims, we must stick together. Michael is a user of beautiful women. It is better if you don't know Michael outside of Section. Michael uses and discards women. You must protect yourself from Michael. You must not let Michael use you." Madeline droned on, her voice hypnotic. Michael nodded as another mental checkmark was made, *Exclusivism. You and me against 'them' or in this case against 'ME'.*
*Madeline, you missed your calling.*
One .. two the colour of blue
He turned the tape off and pressed his fingers against his eyelids, exhausted. They were leaving him alone with nothing to do while Nikita was out on her valentine mission. That way he had nothing else to do or think about except that Nikita was fucking someone else. It was a test, like everything they did. He was using the time to come up with a plan. The van would return soon and he still did not know what to do. *If only I could get her outside of Section and their constant influence.* He took heart from the little moments of insubordination he had seen and heard. He refused to believe he was grasping at straws.
'Outside' the word echoed in his head. Suddenly his head snapped up. *Outside!* He rewound the tape, searching. *There it is.* "It is better if you don't know Michael outside of Section. To be smart you only know Michael in Section. You shouldn't know Michael outside of Section."
That explained why Nikita did not recognize him on the phone. Madeline had made a tactical error by attempting to condition Nikita so intensely. *GOTCHA!*
*************
BLACK ON BLACK
*First things first.*
pretty little altar boy
Michael grimly pulled his shirt out of his pants and up, mid chest. He turned to obtain a better view in the mirror and, with a micro fine scalpel blade, cut several existing stitches. Blood started trickling down his side. Michael cleaned and replaced the scalpel blade. He made sure to return Walter's workshop to its former pristine state.
The graveyard shift in MedLab, which consisted of only two Med. Techs, jumped to their feet when Michael came through the swinging doors.
"It's bleeding again."
The two Med. Techs looked at each other worriedly. They were ill-prepared for any type of emergency. Mainly they were staffing the unit so that everyone else could get some sleep. No missions were active at the moment and the long-term casualties had been moved into level 14 where they were monitored constantly. Neither wanted to be responsible for the well-being of a Level 5 Operative.
"I suggest you find a doctor," Michael prompted them, heading for a room.
One Med. Tech hurried out of the room while the other watched helplessly as Michael picked a room and started to undress. She swallowed nervously and followed him, too intimidated to remain out front.
"Oh my," she whispered and considering her glazed eyes it was hard to tell if she was referring to the trickle of blood creeping down Michael's side or his bare chest.
She started forward to help him when Michael stopped her with a look and quiet statement, "I would rather you did not."
She flushed bright red as the realization that he only wanted a 'doctor' to attend him. She nodded curtly, offended, and unwillingly relieved, and left the room without a backward glance.
Michael spared only a millisecond of regret for his deliberate snub. Having secured the room, he quickly extracted his pick tools, popped open the cabinet and traded the suspect drug with the innocuous composition Walter had developed. He stashed the contraband in his interior jacket pocket. As he placed the 'new' container in the cabinet, adjusting it so the label was partially hidden as the original had been, he noticed that Walter's concoction was fuller than the original. Michael grimaced at the implication and quickly drained his replacement to the right level. After pouring the difference down the drain, he tossed the cup into the waste basket after noting that they had not yet emptied this room's container. He shook the waste basket to blend his item into the crowd. Hurried footsteps from outside the doors warned him of his dwindling time and he returned back to his original spot. He glanced at the floor, verifying no blood trails to explain. He raised his eyes to the doors just as a sleepy-eyed, harried doctor swung into the room.
Like a leading question
"We could just kidnap her and deprogram her," Birkoff suggested.
Both Michael and Walter studied him before sharing a brief glance with each other. "I do not believe you realize what you are suggesting." Michael's voice, though low, echoed throughout the cramped utility closet.
"Luckily for Sugar, that won't be necessary," Walter added. "We believe that Madeline is still in the testing stages. From what I've seen she needs sleep more than anything else."
Michael nodded. "Yes. We need a mission that begins around eight hours after Madeline administers her last dose for effective withdrawal time. I believe Nikita's natural rebellious nature will be of help to us."
Birkoff ran his hand over his head. "Nothing is really on the books right now." He hesitated as Michael looked at him. "Um, there might be something coming up that would fulfill some of those requirements, but, frankly, nothing that will be for an extended time period," Birkoff mumbled.
"Then you will just have to breach Section while we are out and cause a lock-down."
Birkoff's jaw dropped at Michael's casual pronouncement. Walter's lips twitched.
************
GONNA GET CLOSE TO YOU
I like to look at shadow's sweat on the wall
Madeline smoothed her damp palms down her dress over her hips, straightening any wrinkles. *Breathe in, breathe out. You are calmness personified.*
Michael turned the corner, heading for his office.
Madeline smiled and started walking across Section, her path planned to connect with his just at his doorway.
Birkoff called out to Michael and Michael deviated over to Com.
*Damn!* Madeline slowed down her stride and searched for some reason to be where she was. The red-headed Operative who had been talking to Michael earlier walked by. The one that touched him. *Well if I can't have what I want, I'll take what I can get.* "Ms. Holguin?"
The redhead stopped, "Yes, Madeline?"
"I believe we need to talk. I don't think we have a sufficient pain profile for you on file."
I wait by your door 'til you're asleep at night
Madeline watched the figure on the bed as he restlessly rolled over. The sheet slid down to expose a broad muscular chest. She punched in a new combination of keystrokes and the view changed to almost directly over the bed. She tapped her fingertips together as she contemplated Michael asleep.
*Mine.* Madeline reached out a finger and gently traced Michael's sleeping form on the screen. Unconsciously she licked her lips as Michael twitched in his sleep. *Soon, my love. Soon.*
Maybe I'm wrong and maybe I'm right
Madeline remembered Michael's session with Sarah. She had gone back and viewed the tape after dismissing Nikita. Oh, Michael had described the woman he loved. Outwardly it had sounded like he was talking about Nikita but Madeline had known it was her he had been talking about. As a matter of fact, that tape had inspired Madeline to speed up her time table. *After all this time.* Madeline sighed in ecstacy as she contemplated her future.
You say I'm wasting all my time
Operations typed in the command to call up the surveillance on Madeline's office.
He smiled as he saw her busy at her computer.
*Mine* Operations reached out a finger and gently traced Madeline's form on the screen. *Soon. All that keeps me from her will be gone.*
I'm like a hungry criminal
*************
DANGER DANGER
My vision trembles
Michael watched Nikita with a sort of morbid fascination, the same compulsion that caused people to linger at traffic accidents.
He could not decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she was starting to look at him "that way" again. It was dangerous if Madeline caught her, but he could not deny the thrill that, locked inside her somewhere, Nikita still desired him.
This ain't no kind of place for a temporary debutante
She was slowly "drying out" from Madeline's drug therapy but still receiving the reinforcement therapy and it was causing a sublime reality conflict. Combined with Walter's synthetic drug stimulant, Nikita started to act like an Expresso Junkie on a two-day binge. She was brighter, louder, faster, quicker and more nervous than anyone else. Her sim scores went through the roof and it was almost impossible to get her out of the practice room.
The only person who seemed to be able to have any effect on her was Madeline and that hold was tenuous at best.
I wanna do something dangerous
Nikita programmed in Level 10 and ignored the warning from both the on-line computer and the Watcher in the booth.
With a shrug the Watcher punched in the authorization override. *Crazy Cold Ops.*
The sim started full-speed, holographic shooters popping up in a 360 degree arc in blinding symmetry. Nikita shot, wove, shot, danced, shot, ducked, shot, fell, rolled, shot and got shot. The pain of each hit was a lancing burn into her skin. It spread so that soon her whole body was throbbing in agony and still she continued. She was alive here. Here she could feel something, anything.
The Watcher winced and stopped the sim as soon as she could no longer get up. Normally he would have stopped it sooner but last time he watched her she had threatened him with actual physical harm for turning it off "too soon." The look in her eyes had convinced him that it was better to let her kill herself than to let her kill him.
Deep inside this woman there's a hungry heart
Nikita wiped the towel down her skin quickly, efficiently, her skin still burning from the electrical shots, reddened in places of multiple hits. Instead of paying any attention to the pain, she was focused on the fact that for the first time, in what seemed like years, she was actually feeling tired. *Maybe excess is the way to go?*
Unbidden thoughts of the "excess" Michael could take her to flooded her mind, stilling her movements. Thoughts that seemed like memories overwhelmed her, the intensity of his smell, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice whispering to her in French and English, the sight of his small, vastly amused smile, the rhythm of his pounding heart all seemed so real, so true, so ... right.
Nikita shook her head trying to clear her thoughts. These same thoughts that had started a few days ago, in direct conflict to what she knew to be true and what Madeline had assured her was true, were disturbing and disruptive but ... compelling.
All my life I wanna
"Nikita?" Madeline's voice buzzed through the intercom in the locker room.
"Yes, Madeline?" Nikita answered obediently, *Go Away Madeline.* Nikita recognized the rebellion in her thoughts and forced her voice to portray the "safe" familiar pattern of obedience.
"Briefing in ten minutes. It looks like you are going out."
************
INTIMATE SECRETS
Slow temper rise
Michael controlled his urge to pace. It would help nothing and only cause Madeline and Operations joy. He turned around for the hundredth time and checked the mission log. Still nothing.
Silently Michael cursed Birkoff and his delaying tactics. He had counted on the younger man's sense of guilt and genuine affection for Nikita to tip the scales into outright rebellion.
Michael glanced at his phone, again, but resisted the urge. He had not called Nikita again. His heart was unable to take another "Who?"
Everything spins
Michael chose his seat carefully. He needed to keep up the pretense of becoming used to, even indifferent to Nikita's defection, while, for the sake of his own sanity, being able to see her.
Nikita's actions were even more jerky and agitated then before.
Michael forced his eyes away from the hollow-eyed Nikita twitching at the briefing table and kept his impassive gaze, seemingly on Operations, knowing full well that Madeline was waiting to pounce on the first sign of weakness.
How can I watch
In the relative safety of his office Michael rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. He felt the unfamiliar sensation of impatience. Operations' casual declaration that Michael, Nikita and Davenport would be conducting recon on a primary target with the possibility of active involvement had filled Michael with such a strong bolt of anticipation he was somewhat surprised he had not shot out of his chair, waved his hand in the air and shouted "YES!" Instead, he had blinked and asked, "Will that be all?"
Michael rubbed his lips and dissected Davenport. He had not missed the man's uncomfortable awareness earlier when Operations and Madeline had used him to further along the idea of Michael's 'demotion' nor had he missed the quiet looks of sympathy that Davenport had bestowed on him as Nikita's indifference had filtered through the Section grapevine, perhaps the greatest source of all information.
He nodded once and decided he would not have to kill Davenport except as a last resort.
Do you see through the wall that divides us?
"Are you sure this is wise?"
"Are you saying your technique is not working, that she is not ready?" Operations taunted Madeline.
Madeline compressed her lips and then smiled. "No, I am sure she is capable of handling the situation. Besides, Davenport will be there, what can happen?"
Operations nodded. "Yes, I will tell Davenport what we want before he leaves."
I know intimate secrets
************
FALLING DOWN
Like the motion
Michael pondered the profile. He examined it from every conceivable angle. *Too much of it depends on luck and trust, but I don't have the luxury of time. It's now or never.* He pressed the "ENTER" key.
Can't trade in your devotion
Operations turned to face Davenport. "It's simple really. Make sure Michael does not return from the mission." Operations paused to light a cigar, exhaling the preliminary toke with evident enjoyment, "You can bring back Nikita if you like, she seems to be shaping up rather well."
Can't go beyond the limit without falling down
Davenport contained his surprise and shock, barely. "Sir?"
It's a lot what I do
"Dammit Davenport! Do I have to spell it out for you?!? Cancel Michael while he is in the field!" Operations slapped his hand down on his desk with such force the ashtray and various files on the surface jumped in reaction.
"Yes sir."
Can't start at the beginning
Davenport walked down the hall avoiding eye contact with the solemn figure in black waiting for him. He straightened his back pack and nodded at Michael and Madeline as he started down van access.
Can't give away the centre
Operations watched Madeline watch Michael via survelliance. Operations' lips touched the cool screen, pressed over the image of Madeline's immobile figure on the screen. *Mine.*
Like the signs that I feared
Nikita walked down the hall toward Michael. She pulled her hair out of the jacket she was slipping on.
Michael looked at her, noting the exhaustion clearly displayed on her face and in her eyes. *Damn you Madeline!*
Nikita approached hesitantly and nodded. She quickly skirted around him and hurried down van access.
Like the moment
Michael looked at Madeline. *They are going to kill me.*
Madeline smiled 'sweetly' and turned on her heel and walked away.
What a lovely day it is for falling down
*************
CARDINAL SIN
We fell into their trap
Michael watched the sleeping Nikita, his own eyes closed to mere slits. He was aware of Davenport blatantly facing the front of the van, his back turned to the two of them.
They stood naked before our eyes
He remembered the look Davenport had momentarily given him as he had followed Nikita into the van. *Was it more compassion or regret?*
Sacred beasts in their hands
Michael sighed and abandoned his contemplation of Davenport's motives and orders. If he had to, he could handle Davenport. Instead, he simply indulged himself in the uncensored pleasure of watching Nikita.
We laid plans for escape
Chris Davenport stared unseeingly at the separation door. He mulled over Operations' edict, turning it in his mind. *What was the crazy old man thinking? It's a suicide mission! I wonder if I'm in abeyance?*
We didn't know where to begin
As the hours rolled by, Chris steeled himself for the action he must take. He deliberately did not look at Michael or Nikita. *It will be easier if I can't picture them.*
"We're here." Michael's soft voice intruded on Chris' thoughts.
"I'll take the first shift," Chris volunteered with alacrity. He shrugged into his backpack, fingered open the side pouch and exited the van with barely a nod to his companions.
Years of old tradition bound with piety
Chris paused outside of the van, his hand extended, the palm mic nestled securely against his skin. Operations' voice echoed through the night, rebounding in Chris' head with pounding intensity. "Do it during your second shift. I want you to place this on the van during your first. I want to hear what they talk about when they think they are alone." Operations had handed the palm mic to Chris, his smile tinged with evil delight at the thought of listening to the 'last' conversation Michael and Nikita would ever have.
All day all night we dance for souls we pray for our lives
Chris looked at the palm mic once again. He remembered Walter's lecture on this particular piece of equipment, 'Just remember don't put it too low and don't put it out in the open, and don't put it near any public water works. If this thing gets the slightest bit wet, it's useless, nothing but static. A real truimph of budget cuts.'
Looking back at the closed van door, Chris remembered the devasteded look in Michael's eyes and the pleased smile of Operations. He remembered Michael going back for operatives and Operations carelessly condemning operatives to death. He remembered tales of Michael's courage under fire and the last operation they were on together. *The man is pure magic.* And he remembered Operations' unholy joy in causing pain. "Fuck it!" Chris spat squarely on the palm mic, smelling the bittersweet scent of burnt ozone and slapped the now useless palm mic up on the van wall. He walked off to run his shift. *However long it takes.* He whistled a jaunty version of the funeral dirge. *Fuck you Operations, you miserable bastard!*
All day all night we didn't know where to begin
************
ANIMAL
Tight Security
Greg Hillinger surfed through Section One's backbone using the encrypted passkey Michael had sent earlier. Greg hummed a little tune as he rolled the scroll ball through Seymour's high security firewalls. It was as easy as a hot knife through butter.
Crude Obscenities
"Gotcha!" Greg gloated and preened as his assessment of Operations' paranoia proved correct again. *Really, sometimes this is tooooooo easy.*
Drunk with savagery
Chris sighed as he listened to Suba crack another drunken joke and hoped that Michael was making some headway.
Thrill of the chase
Greg hunted down the code key, hidden deep in Operations' personal computer, copied it and then went in and changed just enough of Operations' copy.
Do you want to dance?
Birkoff glanced to his left and then his right. No one paid any particular attention to him, busy with their own tasks. He double-checked the information on his screen one more time before he admitted that he was simply delaying the moment. He stiffened his spine, accessed his fictitious AOL account and transferred/sent the file. As the bar counted down file activity, he felt his heart beat at the speed of transfer and then suddenly it stopped as the "OK" box appeared. Automatically he clicked, thereby sealing his future. *I love you Nikita and I'm sorry.*
************
IMMACULATE EYES
Nikita listened to Davenport leave the van. She was uncomfortably aware of the fact that his leaving left her alone in the van with Michael.
I lose desire 'cause you're
Nikita concentrated, feigning sleep, as she fought the emotions that struggled to the surface as she had more contact with Michael. *Remember what Madeline told you. He's a user of women. It's no compliment that he has chosen you to manipulate.*
Imperfection has
She closed her eyes tightly, unsuccessfully trying to block the sight of male perfection sitting across the van silently watching her with hungry eyes. *He's a user, a manipulator!* She fought the urge to scream as every truth that Madeline told her was countered by images of Michael's patience, bravery, understanding, courage, loyalty and compassion.
You might be beautiful but what's behind it?
*It's all a trick!! These are not real memories!* Nikita gave up pretending to sleep and sat up, glaring at Michael.
Michael swallowed. He forced himself to not back down from the censure he saw blazing from Nikita's eyes. Her eyes accusing him of untold miseries ... miseries that were probably true ... miseries he did cause. "We need to talk."
I'd rather stare at the stains on my windows than
"... and Lisa Fanning? What about her Michael? Did you seduce her for the sole purpose of manipulating her emotions for you?" Nikita's chilled tone dropped the temperature in the van by several degrees.
Michael blinked. "Yes. My assignment was to seduce and manipulate her. I achieved closure."
"You've manipulated me several times already, haven't you Michael?"
"Yes. I protected you."
"Protected me? How did coming over to my apartment and seducing me to stay in Section protect me? Eric offered me a chance at freedom."
"Eric only offered you a chance to be with him. He could not infect the backups, his absence would have been noticed and if you had accompanied him, you would have been cancelled. I could not tell you that I knew what was happening because Operations and Madeline were already aware of what Eric had planned, but I could ... convince you that there was a reason for you to stay in Section."
I'd rather gaze at the dust on my pillow than look
Nikita bit her lip, confused. So far Michael had denied none of her accusations. Indeed, he had confirmed them, reluctantly supplying additional details. And yet, with each question, each accusation, the despair visible within him grew.
Invitation
She shook her head, dizzy with confusion. *That doesn't make any sense. He did it. He did it all. He admits it. Why should the acknowledgement of his deeds cause him pain? I don't understand. Men who play with women, who toy with them as a hobby don't feel pain, they don't regret their actions.* Nikita flashed back to memories of several of her mother's 'boyfriends.' She was well aware of the reactions that men who hate women display and regret and pain regarding their actions was NOT one of them. *He should be secretly pleased with himself, gloating in his manner, anxious to elucidate his various conquests. Confident that all he has to do is turn on the charm and I'll fall into his hands.*
You might be beautiful but what's behind it?
*He must be lying, he must be.*
I'd rather stare at the stains on my window than
Michael swallowed his sense of despair. He fought with his own sense of guilt, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Nikita.
I'd rather gaze at the dust on my pillow than look
*She doesn't believe me.* Michael felt the irony of the situation, *And this time I answered EVERY question truthfully, every one of her questions.* Michael remembered the litany of his sins, *Bauer, Chandler, Gray, Angie, Rudy, Karen, Stanley Shays .... it went on and on.*
I'd rather gaze at the dust on my pillows than look
**************
DEEP DARK HOLE
You might be dumber than I really care to think
Alarms erupted all over Section, red lights flashed and speakers wailed a warning bleat. Everyone in Comm saved and exited their programs, wincing as the sirens reverberated in the tomb called Section One. The sounds bounced off the reinforced steel walls with deadly accuracy.
And if you're not too careful what you think about
Operations screamed down at Birkoff but the sound of his bellow was lost in the deafening flood of sound. Birkoff frantically typed in command after command as one after another the sirens ceased.
".... THE HELL IS GOING ON?!?!?!?!?!?!?" Operations' voice cracked the sudden deafening silence.
Birkoff shook his head trying to quiet the echo of the sirens still buzzing through his ears. "We have detected a worm virus. External systems have shut themselves down. Only personal drives are still functioning. All missions are without support and Section is essentially in Mandatory Refusal," Birkoff explained, slapping his head slightly to stop the last echo.
"What the hell is a worm virus?" Upon seeing Birkoff starting to answer him, "Get UP here," Operations snarled.
I guess it's all if you swim or you sink
Birkoff started for the stairs but stopped off at Gail's station first. "Go ahead and run the detector, find it, change the i/o and trace it. See if you can stop it before it eats any system files."
Gail smiled uncertainly and started typing furiously.
"Gail."
She looked up, questioningly.
"You are in charge." Birkoff smiled slightly at her look of astonishment. *Yeah, things are going to be different around here.*
A pocket of penitence wall-papered to your floor
"Sir?" Gail's voice interrupted Birkoff's explanation.
"What is it? Don't we look like we are busy?" Operations snapped.
Birkoff bristled. "There is no need for you to take that tone," he stated coldly to Operations.
"What did you say?" Operations stared, stunned. *Impudent little computer Geek!*
"George is here," Gail stated, her voice trembling with pride for Birkoff and fear for his punishment.
And there's a razor-edge benevolence sliced like
"Paul. I hope this isn't an inconvenient time."
"Actually, George, it is ..."
"Nonsense," George interrupted, his voice cheerful. "Everything is under control." George nodded to Birkoff, "I believe Mr. Birkoff has a few things to look after. Why don't we let him get back to work?" George smiled reasurringly at Birkoff and looked expectantly at Operations.
Operations glared at George but nodded curtly at Birkoff, who all but ran out of the room.
I think you're in over your head
"What is this about George? We have a crisis at the moment."
"I'm well aware of that Paul. Believe me when I tell you the crisis happening in THIS room is of more importance." George's tone lost its benevolent quality and his eyes went stone cold.
Operations stopped protesting for a moment and studied George. "Maybe I should bring Madeline in for this discussion," Operations suggested, his hand headed for the intercom.
"Oh, I don't think you will need Madeline for this, Paul. Unless you feel the need to hide behind her skirt." George's lips twitched in a facsimile of a smile.
And all the darkness you create for me might be ...
Operations laughed, sneering, "Really George, that tactic is so ... juvenile." His hand did not touch the intercom. "However, since you've brought it to that level ... I'm sure I can handle you and this situation myself," Operations concluded, his tone smugly superior.
George nodded. "Excellent. Let's discuss your resignation, shall we?"
Operations lit a cigar, rolling the cylinder with expertise. "What resignation? Yours perhaps? You do remember the code key file, don't you?"
"Oh yes, I remember the code key file." George paced a little closer to Operations. "It's such a shame you thought holding a forgery over my head would be effective."
Operations snorted, "A forgery! Oh come on George, you expect me to believe that?"
George smiled, "Why don't you take a look. Double check your information on the Peruze brothers. I think you will find it interesting."
It's likely
"Damn you, George! What have you done?" Operations felt his head buzzing as George's implications proved true. Someone had tampered with the code key file and now all copies of it read just enough 'wrong' information that it would never pass scrutiny from the rest of Oversight. Operations watched as his trump card melted off of the screen, slowly dissolving. The worm virus had been deliberate it seemed.
Operations acted without thought, instinct driven and with a Glock in hand he turned to George, only to be confronted with the sight of a barrel already pointed at him.
And if Justice's hand prevails
The sound of a shot, a second and a third rang through the quiet of Section. Perfect bullet point star shatters appeared in the darkened window of command.
************
WHORE
The blunt from the cut spills the milk from her veins
"Now, it's my turn." Michael stated.
Nikita looked at him in surprise.
"Will you answer my questions?" Michael probed.
She summons the courage and proffers a drink
Nikita hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
She purges herself of what has kept her bound
"Do you remember Julie?"
Nikita nodded.
"Her betrayal?" Michael reminded her.
"Yes."
"And when I found you, what happened?"
Nikita furrowed her brow in thought. "They had tortured me and were going to kill me when ... you came through the window. You stopped them and you .... you gave me a cover story for Section, one that would keep me out of trouble." Nikita's voice was full of hesitation and dawning puzzlement.
Michael nodded. *Calm, keep calm.*
"And Helen?"
Nikita looked down at her clasped hands, "My 'Mother'? Yes, I remember her."
"You remember what you asked of me?"
Nikita held her head in her hands, the memory flowing from somewhere. She had asked him to spare Helen the knowledge that she really wasn't her daughter. To let the woman keep the illusion. "Yes."
"Do you remember why you would ask that of me?"
Nikita pressed her hands tightly to her head. She had known that Michael had felt contempt and anger for Helen because of Chuck. Hell, she had felt it herself, in the beginning, but she had also known that Michael would honor her request, that he was a man of honor. "Yes," she whispered. *But Madeline said he was a manipulator. She told me he was a user of women. Why doesn't that sound true?* Nikita looked up, "I also remember how you calmly had me beaten and would have killed me if she hadn't broken." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Nikita felt regret at his wince.
When the dribble of your words ain't got no effect
Michael sighed. They had addressed this already and there was no denying he had had her beaten.
"The Phasing Shell? Remember how that ended?"
Nikita nodded.
Michael continued to dreg up 'good' memories, instances where Nikita had asked for his help, instances when she had received his help unsolicited, instances when she had helped him without question ... every instance he could remember or make a case for ... when he had been in Mandatory Refusal, when he had responded to Petrosian's order to meet her, Rene, his bending of the rules at her direct request for Terry even to the point of pitching Mick out of the limo and even when he had tried to spare her a valentine mission with Markali. He even brought up the instances when she had deliberately manipulated him, using his attraction to her to force the discovery of Abby and her obvious betrayal of him regarding Adrian. Michael pulled out all stops and was relentless in forcing Nikita to admit to each instance, to acknowledge the truth of them. He hammered on moments that Section could not know about ... what really happened in the cages during the war with Red Cell ... how she had protected him after his run-in with Perez causing him to lose his own memory and what he had done, at her request, for her Mother.
When the elastic snap of approval don't stretch
Nikita answered the questions, relived the memories and found her repeated litany of Madeline's 'truths' less and less palatable. Years of the knowledge that Michael was a hard but honorable man surfaced. She knew the Section dogma but she also knew that ultimate truth of their 'code.' Along with the memories of Michael, memories of Madeline's and Operations' manipulations and outright forced procedures flooded to the surface. Madeline's lessons in seduction. Operations' willingness to sacrifice a truckload of children to get Chandler's help. The same children Michael saved. Madeline and Operations buddying up with Bauer and Petrosian. Madeline's reassurance became less and less real. Nikita now heard the underlying bitterness of Madeline's words.
I can't be bothered with details, can't be bothered no more
Michael hated to put Nikita through this type of pain. He knew he was ripping into her psyche, forcing her to acknowledge unpleasant truths about him, herself, and all of the others. *Only Walter is sinless.* Michael mused, momentarily struck by the irony.
Michael moved closer to Nikita, the first time he had physically approached her all evening. He stopped just within her personal space. He did not touch her. "Do you remember the barge?"
Nikita felt her breath catch in her throat as his softly voiced question stroked across her body. She clearly remembered their night of unbridled passion on the barge. His desperation and her hunger.
"Y ... e ... s."
"Look at me, Nikita," he pleaded.
Nikita didn't move.
"I love you, Nikita." Michael breathed.
Cuz, I don't ever want to remember
"Look at me, Nikita," he pleaded again, his voice breaking.
Nikita took a deep breath and tilted her head up just enough to see him, to see his eyes ... to read his eyes ... to see the tears flowing down his cheeks. *The Anguish!* Nikita looked at his beautiful face stunned by the emotions roaring through her.
************
O L'IL BOY
I hear your voice
Madeline turned on her computer to Michael's voice stating, "Sytems clear. Begin."
Still in my view
As her computer warmed up, the wallpaper picture of Michael sharpened across her screen.
Lost in my world
As each program signed on, the Michael icons were greeted with Michael's voice stating "Check in."
I want to be alone with you
Madeline shivered as she accessed the current mission status file. Michael's voice carressed her ears, "Do you need to relax?"
It took a full minute for her to realize that she could not access the current status on Michael's latest mission. The message of 'system shutdown' scrolled across her screen, mocking her.
Madeline punched the button on her intercom. "Birkoff?"
There was a moment of silence and then a hesitant voice filtered through the intercom, "Birkoff is with Operations. Can I help you, Madeline?"
"Gail?"
"Yes."
"What is happening?"
"Oh, the computers detected a virus and the automatic procedures kicked in. It should be corrected in about half an hour. I have started looking for the worm, it leaves a miniscule trail but I got lucky ..."
"Thank you, Gail." Madeline cut the conversation short, unwilling to listen to Gail rhapsodize about computer virus thing-ma-jiggies.
"Yes ma'am. Oh, I suppose I should tell you ..."
"No!" Madeline calmed her voice. "Thank you Gail, that is quite enough." Madeline clicked off her intercom impatiently. In a fit of pique, Madeline closed all access to her office. Only Operations or Oversight could contact her now.
You are the one I'd like to eat
Madeline caressed the screen, her fingertips traced Michael's celluloid lips. *Soon, soon you will be mine again.* Madeline's right hand dropped to her lap and began to inch up her skirt, caressing her thigh. *Paul doesn't suspect a thing, but ... oh Michael, you are the one I want. All these years, plotting.* Madeline's left hand caressed her breasts, the tips hardening at both her touch and her thoughts. As her hands moved in a well-established pattern, Madeline gazed at the source of her inspiration. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, picturing Michael on his knees in front of her, his tongue adoring her, worshipping her. She cried out as the image combined with her hands took her over the edge. *OHHHHH Michael.*
I'm like a mirror watching you
Madeline jerked upright, moving her hands with lightning speed as the sound of a code being entered into her door lock floated across the room.
Just like a knot you can't undo
"Madeline. It's over. All that's left is for the mission to come in."
It's like the silence in my room
***********
EASY
I've been caught in the middle
Nikita reached out a hand, wiping the tears from Michael's cheek. "Michael?" she questioned. Nothing Madeline had said to her ... had lied to her ... had prepared her for this ... twisting of her heart. The sight of this strong, brave, loyal man crying was her undoing.
Nikita uttered a little cry and pulled Michael into her arms. She held him with forgotten emotion, uncaring of the almost bonebreaking strength of his return embrace.
As long as I'm breathing
"Do you remember? Do you remember me?" Michael asked as he loosened his grip, slightly.
Nikita buried her face in his neck as she thought about his question. *Do I remember him?*
I've been flying above it
Nikita's body remembered him. Her eyes remembered the sight of him. Her mouth remembered the taste of him. Her fingers remembered the feel of him. Her nose remembered the scent of him. Her ears remembered the sound of him.
But her mind ... She could still hear Madeline in her head, pounding away with facts, facts that Michael did not deny.
*But he answered everything. He told the truth and his truth exposed her lies.* Nikita shuddered as her body warred with her mind.
Let me down slow
"I do remember you, Michael. I do," she reassured him, her voice a bare whisper.
"But..." Michael allowed.
"But ... it's hard. There are so many truths running around in my head. I can't tell what's real and what's not." Nikita avoided his eyes.
Let me down slow
Michael tilted her head up, seeking eye contact with her. "Just give me a chance Nikita, that's all I'm asking."
Nikita nodded. "All ... right."
It's not what you know
Michael kissed her softly, gently, a bare brush of the lips. He pulled back a little, watching as her mouth started to ... almost follow him.
He kissed her again, a touch harder, a little longer. Nikita's lips welcomed him, returning the pressure with her own. This time when he pulled back she followed him, seeking to sustain the moment.
Michael's hand caressed her cheek, his lips a breath away.
Nikita's eyes fixated on his mouth, her body clamored for its return. Every time he touched her, every moment of contact with him flooded memories through her system. Memories of long slow evenings of passion, memories of quick hard stolen moments, memories of time spent together-just being with each other, floating in a tub together, memories of looks across the briefing table, memories of moments so fraught with sexual tension the air shimmered between the two of them and the memory of Michael kissing her goodbye in Section after Adrian. Nikita knew with a certainty that she wanted to experience life with Michael again. She wanted to experience being loved by him again.
Michael and Nikita stood locked together for unmeasured moments. Michael was unbearably happy to be allowed to hold her again and Nikita was relearning how to feel, how to trust.
Oh as long as I'm breathing
It was with remembered resignation that the two of them parted in response to Birkoff's interrupting voice. "Uh ... Michael. You and Nikita need to come back in. Like, NOW."
What if your life depended on it
Despite Michael's prodding, Birkoff refused to say any more.
Michael called Davenport in.
What if your life depended on it
Chris entered the van hesitantly, looking at both Michael and Nikita. He visibly relaxed at the totally blank synchronized expressions on their faces. *YEAH! It was worth it.*
What if your life depended on me
"When you come in Nikita needs to go directly to Operations." Birkoff's voice rang omniously through the van.
************
REVENGE OF SLEEPING BEAUTY
Behind the veil
"What do you suppose is happening?" Nikita asked, unconsciously wringing her hands.
Michael rubbed his lips, deep in thought.
Chris shrugged his shoulders, resigned to whatever fate held for him. He made his choice out there in the dark and no matter what, he vowed to not regret it.
Fear velvet red
Birkoff stood beside Gail's station. "Did you find it?"
Gail smiled at him proudly. "Yes! It was sneaky but I put a tracer on the tail end of the bit stream that set off the alarms and followed it back to where it was hiding. It had attached itself to one of the mandatory automatic inventory files," she explained, flushed with her victory.
Birkoff smiled. "That's excellent, Gail! I'm quite impressed!" he praised her. *Yep, things are going to be different around here.*
Gail blushed in embarassment, unused to Birkoff dispensing praise of any kind.
Birkoff watched the color creep up Gail's face with amusement. *Yeah, looks like I'm going to have to re-evaluate a few things. Who knew she'd find my little baby so quickly?*
Mix the elixir
"Michael?" Nikita's hesitant voice broke through his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"How did she ... I mean ... what did Madeline ... DO, exactly?"
Chris studiously ignored the two of them and mentally prepared his Last Will and Testament.
Michael looked at Nikita for a long moment before he replied, "I'm not sure what she did in the beginning. It must have been something similar to the phasing shell, but she supplemented it with reinforcement therapy and chemical persuasion."
Nikita looked at him blankly, "Chemical persuasion?" she whispered.
Michael nodded slightly, "Yes. Did she give you any kind of drug, drink or food?" Michael asked, hoping to further force Nikita's break with Madeline.
"No, no drug. She only gave me vit ... a ... mins." Nikita brow furrowed as she realised the implication of her statement.
Give her the river
"I'm sure if you would just give me a chance to explain, it will all make sense," Madeline stated calmly. One would never guess from her manner or poise that she was strapped to a chair in a white room.
"Oh, please do go ahead. I can't wait to hear your explanation."
"It's quite simple. You know how there are layers to everything we do around here. You just have to peel one more layer off and my actions will become quite reasonable."
"Go on."
How long has she been sleeping?
"How long?" Nikita asked drowsily. The preceeding exhausting emotional scenes, the withdrawal from her stimulant, the soothing rock of the van and the two men's silence had taken their toll on her numbed senses.
"As long as you need," Michael reassured her gently.
Nikita shook her head, almost nodding off. Desperately she struggled to stay awake long enough to get her answer. "No," she slurred, "How long was I ... asleep?"
Michael grimaced in understanding. "Less than a week."
Nikita winced as she lost the battle and drifted off, "That long? Long enough to ruin everything," she mumbled.
If She forgives herself depends
{{Nikita looked around, confused. *What has happened to Section?* All around her, everywhere she looked, everyone moved in slow motion, it was like she was looking at Section through strobe glasses. She closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids trying to banish the throbbing vision. She cautiously opened her eyes again and found herself all alone in a dank dark hall, the metallic walls dimly reflected a distant light. She shivered as the cold permeated her bones. Her eyes focused on the barely visible light and she started toward it, sure in the knowledge that the light held warmth and safety. She walked down the endless corridor trying to catch the glimmering in the distance but no matter how fast she walked or ran, she could not get any closer to it. She might as well be running in place. Nikita looked down at her feet and found, to her horror, she WAS running in place! She felt a tearing loss at not being able to catch the light. She knew it was something special. She knew it could save her.}}
Hanging my head
Michael knelt by the seat, watching as Nikita dreamed. Her REM was sporadic and jerky. He frowned, knowing he could do nothing to influence the dreams that were finally coming through after her long sleep deprivation. *Who knows where her mind is taking her?*
{{Nikita stopped running as she realised she was getting nowhere. She stood panting in the hallway, exhausted and sweating but still so ... very ... very cold. She squinted as she looked down the corridor. The light was still there, glimmering dimly, mockingly. As she yearned to touch it, part of the light was blocked out as Michael came around a corner. "Nikita" his voice echoed down the corridor faintly. "Take my hand, I'll help you," Michael promised, holding his hand out to her, his finger bent slightly, encouragingly. "Michael!" she called out, trying to reach out, to touch his hand, but she could not move her arm. Nikita tugged and pulled but her hand would not raise from her side and instead clanked discouragingly in the manacles now chaining her down to the floor. The vision that was Michael started to fade. "Michael. No! Don't go!" she called out.}}
I stand on guard
He sighed as she began to cry, feeling useless.
Yet she hates me
"Michael. No!" Nikita mumbled distressed, her arms jerking, almost knocking her off of the seat.
Michael dropped his head against the cushion where Nikita's head rested. *She hates me still.*
I steal the kiss right from her lips
Nikita turned her head toward him, instinctively seeking his strength.
Michael looked at her pale face, twisted in anguish, the slow steady stream of tears gliding down her cheeks. Praying that some form of comfort would penetrate her dreams, he lightly kissed her lips, the salt of her tears stinging him slightly.
Far from the world that she's in
Nikita's dreams continued, always the same theme. She could not break free from Section, either she was physically manacled or she was mired down in the steel floors, the walls encasing her in suffocating closeness. Always there was a light just out of reach, or Michael reaching out to her but unable to help her without her assistance.
In every shadow there's a deeper reason searching for a seam
Michael watched her fight her nightmares. He watched as she struggled to break free from whatever gripped her. He watched as she failed.
If I could take you from this corner
He started to murmur to her, softly crooning in her ear, little reassurances, little comforts, little forgivenesses. He talked of the good times she had, reminded her of the camaraderie she and Walter shared, reminded her of her protectiveness of Birkoff, reminded her of their love.
The cold would seem a little warmer
{{Nikita trembled as a warm breeze blew through the halls of Section, warming her for a brief moment. She welcomed the breeze, asking for another, asking for help. A stronger gust blew past her, lingering for a moment. She drank strength from it. She smiled as she remembered flirting with Walter and another breeze blew past her, almost a gust of warm air. Nikita asked for another and this time she remembered threatening Greg because of his treatment of Birkoff. A stronger gust whooshed by and then circled her once before disappearing.}}
You never reached out through the violets never asking to be saved
{{Nikita acknowledged the truth of her dream, she could not defeat the weight on her own. She needed help. She tipped back her head and screamed out her pain at Madeline's ultimate betrayal and Operations' twisted life sentence. She called out Michael's name. A blast of hot air seared her skin, banishing the chill from her bones and melting the chains from her heart and body as the dream Michael embraced her.}}
And if winter could meet summer could they tell each other apart?
Nikita woke with a jerk and Michael's anguished face filled her vision as she opened her eyes. "Shhh, it's okay Michael. It's okay," she reassured him, placing tiny kisses on his lips, nose, cheeks and forehead. Michael buried his head in her hair and shuddered.
If she forgives herself depends
The van pulled into access and the three tired, resigned operatives stepped out into the corridor, prepared to play the hand fate dealt them. Michael and Nikita's hands intertwined, they unconsciously matched each others movements, a united front.
No one waited for them.
As they turned to walk into the heart of Section Michael and Nikita stopped, "Chris?"
Chris stopped and faced the couple.
"You are a good man. We won't forget what you did," Michael promised as he fingered the defunct palm mic he had pulled off the side of the van. Nikita nodded silently and moved forward to drop a light kiss on Chris' cheek.
Chris blushed a little and smiled. "It was worth it," he said simply and started walking to his fate.
Michael and Nikita followed.
Revenge
Birkoff silently watched as Davenport emerged first from the hallway and then Michael and Nikita. He noted, with a hidden smile, their clasped hands and silently applauded Michael for his success. "Nikita, you need to go up to Operations," Birkoff reminded her.
Michael and Nikita nodded and headed for the stairs.
Birkoff thought about pointing out that Michael wasn't included in the order but decided to drop it as a foolish thought, instead he turned to smile at Gail and went back to his station.
Revenge
Walter watched as Michael and Nikita climbed the stairs to the loft. His face split with a huge grin as he observed their clasped hands and synchronized movements. *No matter what came next, it was worth it to get Sugar back.*
Revenge
George turned as Michael and Nikita entered the loft. "Michael, Nikita," he acknowledged.
"George." Michael nodded slightly.
Nikita started in surprise, *That's George?*
George politely ignored her lapse. "I wanted to thank you, Michael, for your assistance. As you can imagine there have been some changes since you left," George calmly informed him.
"There was some ... resistance?" Michael asked.
George's lips twitched in a facsimile of a smile, "Some."
George turned to look at Nikita. "I believe this young lady has a decision to make."
"I do?"
"Why don't you take her down to WR3, I think you can explain it to her," George directed.
Sleeping beauty's revenge
"Operations is really dead?" Nikita asked, her mind whirling with Michael's brief description of his part in the breaking of Section One's twin dictators.
"It's unfortunate, but true. I'm not surprised," Michael stated quietly. He had known this would be the probable outcome, had regretted it on some levels, but Nikita meant more to him than even the misguided loyalty he felt toward Paul, so it had to be.
They stopped in front of WR3 and turned on the side monitor. Inside the room, Madeline was propped up in the chair, staring blankly into space, the little horizontal cuts under her eyes telling a story all of their own.
"This must be the decision George was talking about."
Nikita winced, despite all that Madeline did to her, all the mind games, Nikita would not have wished this upon the woman. "Decision?"
Michael sadly looked at the shell that used to be Madeline. "Yes, what would you do with her? Apparently, George feels you have some rights in regard to her outcome."
"What possible decision is there?" Nikita asked, bewildered and unable to look at Madeline any longer.
"You could reprogram her. Right now she is the blank slate she tried to make you into. You could make her into anything you wanted. Do anything you want with her," Michael offered, his tone neutral.
Nikita shuddered. "That's awful. I can't do that to her. I can't become her." She moved closer to Michael. "I chose to let her go, to allow her some peace," Nikita whispered.
Sweet Revenge
Michael smiled down at Nikita. He knew it would take a while before she broke free from the aftereffects completely, but, at least now they had an honest chance. A chance at life.
THE END
It was enough to make a man cry
She knew it in an instance
Took the path of least resistance
All she wants to do is hurt you
Then you look at her with those eyes
She receives a visit in the dark
No sign of danger
But the familiar hand has left its mark
Get away she's warning you
It's enough to make a man cry
He took the path of least resistance
I could have done the same to you
With paralyzing focus and your loving still
Anointing me with accolades designed to break my will
Two of us are waiting for one of us to blink
A little too much to put me through
We are targets for each other
Look in the mirror and my eyes are aimed at you
My weapon is my point of view
Reflects the way I think
When my eyes are aimed at you
And then suddenly she bared her teeth in distaste
And I recognized it's implications
A matter of chance becomes a matter of fact
one slight gesture
my entire world was
zero
A twisted smile
With one easy stroke, one slight gesture, my entire world was zero
But he's king of the castle no questions asked
He had one intention
She had no control
Not to break the mold
Can be dangerous
When there is no balance
Someone is powerless
so I did and no one answered
I was trying to get through without losing again
How are you?
I wait for an answer
Wait for an answer
It's been so long
I'll hold on and wait for an answer
Wait for an answer
I can't hear you
Are those words meant for me like they appear to be?
The tension in my voice awaits you
You know who I am but my name escapes you
How are you?
I wait for answer
It's been so long
I'll hold on and wait for an answer
You make me wait you make me wait
When she's giving him her mouth
Her words
Her tenderness
Who is holding her and showing her compassion
When he wants her nakedness
So many ways of endless pleasure
She pretends you are touching her face with yours
when he is turning in his sleep
Worship the safety of your embrace
There are pagan gods and demi-gods and ordinary men
You sing to her and romance is your name
Taunting me like a messiah
Says, "Do you believe in me?"
The line between truth and desire
Crumbles so easily
I count to seven and the heat turns up another degree
I count eleven for the reasons why it happened to me so easily
I count eleven .... eleven
Don't raise my hope
Then take it away
Don't make me whole
Don't saveth my soul
Just let me go
To rise up from the sleep I'm deep in
To walk from the dream I breathed in
Home ... home
Lightening strikes in a moment of truth
Three ... four the night that I swore
I got nothing to prove -
You got nothing - no more
Daddy's little pride and joy
change the water into wine
the power of suggestion
like the face of danger
like the kindness of a stranger
like a Judas Kiss
like pleasure and a little pain
immaculate seduction
absolute corruption
like a blasphemous contract
no turning back
I get excited when I hear footsteps in the hall
And when you're alone I know when you turn out the light
Maybe I'm some kind of lunatic
But I know what to do with it
It's plain as black and white
I'm gonna get close to you
and your protection is minimal
So minimal
Like an animal in heat
Walk right in the shadow
I just think about the thrill and how it terrifies me
Danger Danger
Got to feel the threshold
Burning for a little savagery
Bite the hand that feeds me
Bite it right off
Above the noise
When you close your eyes
Nobody ever told you
Otherwise
Your precious world
Scatter like a broken
String of pearls
Who hears from behind the shelter that hides us?
Two closed doors and the floor below me
You walk by and just the same you don't even know me
Something about you
All your intimate secrets
That delivers you forward
'Til you can't go back
Not anymore
For what you haven't found
You can't go beyond the limit without falling down
'Cause you can't go back
Not on your way
It's the moment
When you're riding on fear
That you can't look back
You live and learn
When you're in-between
Can't know if where you're going's
Where you haven't been
Without spinn' 'round
You can't go beyond the limit
Without falling down
And the lines in the mirror
Like a haunting ghost
That will return
When it's suddenly all clear
When I needed most
To live and learn
What a lovely day it is for falling down
You can't go beyond the limit without falling down
Before we knew it
We were in their command
Tied us up in unconditional traps
We go without cardinal sin
We didn't know where to begin
Slow manipulation cause anxiety
Try to make us guilty with our innocence
Never know the difference
All day again and again we swore that we'd never become one of them
All day again and again we go without we go without
Inside the Zone
Sticks and Stones
Friend or Enemy
See to the taste
Brutalizing heat
Pick up the pace
Trophy on the wall
Inferior race
Do you want to dance?
Not what you appear to be
Not what you appear to be
Let no trace upon you
Your reflection
You depend upon it
You have a pretty face but what are you hiding?
Look into those Immaculate eyes
Into those Immaculate eyes
Signals you are sending
Hesitation
Like a neverending
Vertigo inside of me
Vertigo
You have a pretty face but what are you hiding?
Look into those Immaculate eyes
Into those Immaculate eyes
Into those eyes
Your immaculate eyes
You might be clever but you've barely reached the brink
You won't think about tomorrow
you might be headed for a
HOLE
a DEEP DARK HOLE
An arsenal of evidence thumb-tacked to your back door
A zig-zag through your core
Left from the backlash of your bloody war
Way beyond your control
A DEEP DARK HOLE
All the darkness you create for me might be ...
Of all the righteous fools I'd hate to be ...
It might be
It might be ...
YOU
Well, then you might tip the scales
If all else --- all else fails
The sacrifice? The sum of all that remains
She undoes her pure urge and offers the pinkness
Of all that is potent
Of all that is pure
Of all that is sugar
As sweet as liqueur
She plunges the wealth of her values and drowns
In her shallow assumptions
And tallies the score
When you are down to the wire that runs neck and neck
When the nudge of what's coming has lost its reflex
I will elbow my way through this Quixotic wreck
Any further, any further, any further than it can get
Didn't I piss in the face of derision and frown?
Didn't I swallow my scruples and wet kiss the ground?
I swear to hell there ain't no heaven 'till we settle this score
What I ain't never going to forget
A face of a whore
Face of an angel
obsessing
obsessing
I can't be
Without out
Possessing
The sound of everything that's true
I wanna be alone with you
I'd like to taste you, o so sweet
I wanna be alone with you
I gotta be alone with you
The sound of everything that's true
I've been looking out for something
If I try just a little
It'd be purely for nothing
This girl ain't going down
Ain't gonna go easy - easy
Nobody's getting out
Don't wanna go easy - easy
You want to try to forget your name
Ya been looking outside your window
No-when you say no, well
You can't stop and I don't
Really don't remember the way
Let me down sweet
But go easy - easy
Let me down sweet
Just go easy - easy
Know what I mean
Easy - believe me - easy
Skin as pale as a virgin
Drapes the bed
Like a curtain
She drinks from her vial
That soothes her denial
Beauty's only skin deep
On sleeping beauty's last revenge
On her bed
I am waiting
For her heart
Stealing kisses from her lips
I steal them safely while she's sleeping
I feel the fault all I can feel
Oh I taste the salt, it tastes so real
I can taste it when she's weeping
Away from all she defends
In every nightmare there's a darker meaning waiting for a dream
If I could shake you from this spell
Heaven knows it must be hell
For you to stand in frozen silence while I dance over your grave
What's a life worth without a little change of weather in your heart?
On sleeping beauty's last revenge
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