Thursday had just been awesome. Tornado warnings had been announced all day long at the hospital until everyone just laughed when another one was announced, because the last one had just expired five minutes before. The hospital employees all went about their business of taking care of patients, reviewing charts or whatever. I was one of the lucky ones. I finished my responsibilities and drove home under the dark gray skies. I remembered what the weather men had said earlier in the week.

"Tornadoes never strike in downtown areas because of all the tall buildings. Yada yada yada. " There was obviously some meteorological reason, but I really wasn't listening to that part.

Of course, I didn't work all the way downtown, and I certainly lived in a residential area 25 minutes from downtown. But I wasn't really all that worried. Imagine my surprise! I was home, surfin' the 'net and watching the Storm Tracker 2000 on TV over my shoulder, when I saw the tornado sweep downtown, and it came down Charlotte Avenue, swept down 25th Avenue South, which is one of the streets that borders the medical complex where I work. Trees became toothpicks, along that side of Centennial Park. Amazingly, no fatalities were reported, although there was a lot of damage as it rushed through downtown and crossed the river. The storm cell base was a mile wide. Only from a great distance could it be seen later on video tape that there were at one time four funnels which looked tiny compared to the base of the storm itself.

It was a very exciting evening, but by 7PM most of the excitement appeared to be over, or so I thought. The doorbell rang and my son Jay answered. "Mom," he called. There's someone here to see you."

As I was busy signing onto the net again, I asked "Who is it?" Too many times my son has called me away from my wonder computer to talk to vinyl siding salesmen and Girl Scouts selling cookies.

My son's enigmatic reply was, "You'd better come to see for yourself. You're either going to be really happy, or you're in one hell of a lot of trouble." And he laughed. Since my adult son has quite a dry and somewhat warped sense of humor, I had no clue as to his real meaning..

Of course my curiosity got the better of me, and I sauntered down the hall to the living room. THUD went my heart. A tall handsome man stood there. He had long wavy chestnut hair. His eyes were difficult to determine in the low light of the living room, but they were gray, I think. He looked very familiar and yet totally out of his element in my living room. I think all the color hurt his eyes.

"Marie?" His voice was soft and had a sensual quality that absolutely turned my insides to jello. His eyes did not have a blank stare, and they were boring through the back of my head. "You are MNReign," he asked again.

"Yes, well, sort of." How did he know my nom de plume? How did he find me?

My son started sniggering and said to him, "I'll leave you in her hands. I've a date to work out at the gym." My son laughed and to me, his mother, who bore 16 long hours of agonizing labor to birth him, he said, "Toodles.!" And he left, waving fondly.

"Michael?" Who else could it be? He was standing right there in my living room. He was wearing black pants, and they were tight. A black tee shirt that hugged his muscled chest nearly stopped my heart. A long black jacket unbuttoned completed the ensemble. Oh yes, a black belt with a silver buckle. Yes, I looked at the belt.....and below. Well, I am human, after all. My heart was racing as he looked around and looked at me up and down. Geez! A sweat suit is really comfortable for surfin' the 'net, but not exactly what I would have chosen to wear to meet the object of my desires, Michael.

"That's why I'm here. How do you know me, and why are you writing those stories about me? Operations and Madeline are very upset that you have breached our computers at Section One." He walked across my living room until he was in my personal space. He was breathing through his mouth, and I thought I would faint if he came any closer.

"Are you here to interrogate me?" I asked with a quivering voice.

"Yes, I am. It doesn't have to be painful. Just tell me what I want to know." His voice promised he would be gentle, but I knew these Section guys were heartless.

"Anything, anything, just ask me, and I'll tell you. I have nothing to hide. I don't know anything." I knew I couldn't withstand torture. I hadn't been trained to do that. Oh, I can take doctors yelling and patients complaining with a never failing smile, but torture is something else again.

"Sit down," he said.

"Well, Michael, I don't have one of those fancy metal chairs like you have at Section, but will the blue leather recliner do?"

"I guess it'll have to do."

"Uh, Michael, it's started to rain again, and I need to bring my dogs in. Do you mind? It won't take a second. They just hate getting wet.." I was stalling for time, and maybe the dogs would provide some protection for one of us.

Michael looked at me in exasperation and sighed. "Okay, do it."

I ran to the back door and in came Tazz the chow-chow, Tiger the border collie, and Rebel the other border collie. They were all excited to see someone new. Tazz barked, Rebel cowered and showed his toothy smile, and Tiger did his charm act. Michael was swamped by two of the dogs. Rebel preferred to remain aloof from the stranger. Tiger and Tazz seemed to like him. That's surely a good sign. They would sense it if he really meant me any harm. Rebel picked his moment and shook the rain from his coat all over Michael.

"Sorry. He's the alpha dog, and he pretty much does what he wants to do."

"That's okay, I like dogs. I just can't keep one in my line of work." He stroked Tiger's back and ruffled the abundant hair on Tazz's head. He gave Rebel a respectful distance.

"Yeah, I guess that would be kind of difficult. Your irregular schedule and all." I tried to sound sympathetic and make him see me as a real person, not someone to torture.

Michael smiled, and I can tell you, it was scary. He knew I was trying to manipulate the situation in my favor, and let me know with that smile that it would not be quite so easy. "Now, just get comfortable," he said. "I need to know how you know about my sessions with the psychiatrist. I need to know how you know about Section One, and how you have breached our computer system."

I sat back in the blue leather recliner, and looked around the room. My eyes fell on my VCR tapes of LFN and Roy Dupuis movies. His observant eyes caught what I had seen. He walked over and he picked them up.

"Surveillance tapes! You have us under surveillance as well. That explains a great deal!" He was going through the tapes. "Roy Dupuis, is he that French Canadian actor that likes to go around making movies that show his butt? I've heard of him. He's pretty good too."

"Oh, yes, he is great. Michael," I reached out and gently touched his hand. "You're not real. You’re a fictional television character, and I watch you on Le Femme Nikita every Sunday night. I know you’re not real."

"Nikita! She is driving me crazy! Burning hot and burning cold. I never know what to expect from her except the unexpected." Gallic passion flamed in his eyes at the mere mention of her name.

"I know Michael, but you're just going to have to put up with it because it really makes a great story line. All that sexual tension is what keeps us watching your show.

"Is nothing private? It's bad enough that Section has us under surveillance, but now the whole world is watching? Incroyable!" Michael ran his right hand back through his hair. The effect was devastating, and I wanted to do the same.

"Well, not the whole world yet, but there is a loyal fan base out there determined to make that true."

"I am not real?" he asked softly and a little sadly.

"You are real to thousands of us, Michael. You live in our minds and in our hearts. That's why some of us have to write about you and Nikita. We just can't wait the seven days between episodes. It's maddening to see the promos that the cable network shows and to know that you and Nikita are going on a mission as a married couple and see the two of you in bed again."

"Nikita and I are going to be in bed together again?" Michael's eyes were shining. His excitement over being with Nikita again was thrilling to see.

"Right, this Sunday night."

"This Sunday night? Are you sure?" He was pacing around and bumped his shin on the coffee table. I knew better that to offer to kiss the boo boo, but I wanted to. After all he was here to wring the truth out of me.

"Yes, USA broadcasts the promo about every 15 minutes all night long. You and Nikita are in bed. She has on no top, and she is pulling off your top."

"This is wonderful! I cannot wait."

"That's how we all feel, Michael. We can't wait either."

"So you are going to be watching while Nikita and I are together."

"Yes, and don't let us down, Michael. It's your assignment, and you have to do the job.! Don’t let those writers keep you from accomplishing your mission."

"C'est Magnifique! Merci. I must talk to you again, but now I have to go. I have to get back by Sunday night to be with Nikita!" Michael was so elated and grateful for the good news that he just received, he swung me around and planted a quick kiss on my lips. He waved and rushed out the door, his feet barely touching the ground.

"Michael," I called. "Can I ask 'you' something.?"

"Oui, anything!"

"Where 'is' Section One located?" At least then I would know something no one else knew.

"That's classified!" He laughed. "I didn't say I would answer." He smiled and drove away taking my heart with him.

fini

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