All around the thunder crashed and the rain pounded on the van roof, a staccato rhythm that had seemed to be eternal. Walter sat hunched up over a complex piece of circuitry, pulling at loose wires and dissecting the components out one by one, stopping occasionally to add to his sketch of the design.

"Come on Walter - we need to know the source of the device- that helicopter wasn't shot out of the sky for no apparent reason - "

"Sugar- the missile launcher you found in the jungle is just a remote device - the controller cannot be far - that's what you guys are meant to be looking for - any word yet from Team A?"

"Not yet - they're due back in ten minutes - then it's our turn again.... and I'm still wet from the last outing "

"Hey - I offered to dry you off - give you a good rub down! " He raised an eyebrow suggestively as he drawled in his usual teasing manner.

"Not in front of the troops Walter." Nikita pouted and blew a kiss back at him.

She sat in front of the computer monitor and brought up yet again the schematic for the territory they were searching - thick tropical rainforest - hiding in its depths somewhere a group that were launching long range ballistic missiles. Birkoff's telemetry had only led them to the launcher itself - which turned out to be a sophisticated remotely operated piece of hardware. Walter had come along for onsite analysis of any additional hardware they could pick up. The terrain was too overgrown for the van - the Chevrolet Suburban had also come to a standstill leaving the team with no option but to take it in turns to search the area one sector at a time. Michael had split the team into two shifts - taking it in turns to rest up and to be available as back up should any be required.

"Walter - what range did you say was needed?"

"In this terrain - no more than ten kilometres radius - more than that and they can't rely on the receiver - the system was designed so as not to need a powerful transmitter - we'd be able to detect signals from that..."

"So they are close?"

"Yes - I'd say so - feeling nervous?"

"If they know we're here they could take us out like they did with the helicopter surveillance..."

"Ground to air is a whole different type of approach sugar - there are too many damn trees to get a clear shot at us..."

"Are you sure?"

"I know the capabilities of hardware - I reckon we're safe..."

"I don't like this - it feels like we're the prey and not the hunters...."

Nikita opened the comm channel to Michael - it occurred to her that he should be on his way back by now-

"Michael - come in-"

"Nikita - we are approximately two kilometres from base, still no signs."

"OK - take care" she whispered the last two words.

As she was slipping into her damp combat jacket the comm unit bleeped urgently - it was Michael-

"Nikita - we have made contact - it's-"

Moments later the van shuddered as a shock wave reverberated through the jungle - a distant boom could be heard at the same time -

"Michael? Michael!"

There was no answer.

The blast had destabilised the thin soil that clung to the edge of a ravine that Team A had been skirting along - the soft mud slid in great shelves down towards the river below, taking trees and men with it....

One member of team A perished as his body bounced down the escarpment and into the turbulent river below, another clung fiercely to some tree roots and managed to clamber back to the ridge where he collapsed in a heap. The other member of the team - Corallie, a good friend of Nikita's - had used her rifle to snag herself in dense foliage but was hanging precariously over the edge, her feet kicking to gain a foothold in the freshly exposed soil. If it hadn't have been for Michael pushing her forward she would have joined her colleague in the torrents below. She wondered where he was - just then her comm unit crackled in her ear -

"Corallie - are you there?"

"Nikita?"

"What happened - where are the others?"

"There was an explosion - I don't know what happened to the others - but we could do with some help -now would be good!"

"We're on our way-"

Walter equipped the team with ropes and medical kit as Nikita appraised the other three of the crisis.

"I'll inform Section - you take care out there Nikita - bring them back." He could see she was worried sick, but she was also determined to succeed in the rescue mission.

"I will. " She bit out the words between clenched teeth.

The rescue team made it to the ridge as the sun was beginning to set - nightfall happened quickly in the tropics - they had little time left.

They found Corallie assisting her fellow team member who had managed to clamber away from the jaws of death - he had seen the man who had fallen over the edge - but reassured Nikita that it had not been Michael. Corallie had managed to escape with minor abrasions and a wrenched ankle, the man - Johnson - had deep cuts in the palms of his hands where he had clawed his way up through the sharp flints that broke the surface of the soil. Nikita had helped to clean and dress these while getting him to report on what had happened.

The two survivors pieced together what they remembered occurring - Michael had been bringing up the rear - he had heard something in the undergrowth and signalled for the rest of the team to wait. He had gone into the trees and shortly after come running out - urging them all to run. It was about then that Corallie thought she'd seen the flare of a rocket launcher in the trees behind them - Michael had pushed her forward and that was the last she had seen of him.

"I'm sorry Nikita - he must have been washed away into the river -"

"No - I refuse to believe that - you saw Shackleton go over the edge, right? And he was in front - no Michael is out there somewhere, I can feel it-"

"Nikita - "

"Walter - what is it?"

"You only have half an hour of light left - it's time to come back, you have two injured team members - we'll continue the search tomorrow." She could hear him sighing - the others had searched as much as they could in the failing light and had still not found Michael- his comm channel was open, but there had been no response.

Nikita knew it made sense - the rain was falling again and she couldn't risk the rest of the team in the dark, especially with unknown hostiles lurking about with God knows what armoury at their disposal.

"Acknowledged - returning now". She looked about in the rain - there was no indication of where he could be, but she knew in her heart that he was out there somewhere and that it was up to her to find him. With a heavy soul she turned her back on the tangle of trees and undergrowth, raising her rifle ready for any more attacks.

Fifty metres or so below the ridge, beneath an overhanging shelf of dislodged soil, lay a still figure, his black mission pants clinging tightly to his thighs, soaked through with rain they shone in a dull reflection of what light there was left. A fallen tree pinned his shoulder to the ground, where he sank into the soft glutinous mud. His face was pale and a thin trickle of blood traced its path across the mud splatters from where he'd hit his head on an outcrop of rocks. There was no sign of life as the rain beat mercilessly upon his body, plastering cinnamon strands of hair to his battered skull.

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

"Well - I think you could say they found us." Corallie observed wryly as she sat slumped on the floor of the van, nursing a hot cup of coffee that Walter had passed to her.

"How? - They must be monitoring our communications!" Nikita snapped back, frustrated and angry at having to return to the van abandoning Michael to the elements and their enemy.

" Not necessarily - if that was the case - they would have attacked the vehicles and not the team. It seems to me that Michael must have stumbled on something and they were scaring the team off-" Walter tried to present a logical explanation - the others were fatigued and understandably thrown off kilter by the sudden attack.

"Didn't either of you see what attracted Michael's attention?"

Both Corallie and Johnson shook their heads apologetically - whatever it was that Michael had discovered was unknown to them.

"We'll have to search the area carefully in the morning-" Walter commented.

"I think we should go back out now-" Nikita stood up and stuck out her chin in her spoilt brat gesture that Walter recognised as one that meant trouble.

"We have orders to stay in position until morning - " Walter tried to remind Nikita of the instructions issued by Operations. He knew he was not going to win this argument, but he had to try to make her see sense.

"Walter - if Michael's out there and injured he could be dead by morning. " Nikita had moved across the van to stand inches from the older man's face- close enough that he could see the tears sparkling in the ocean depths of her eyes. She was silently pleading for him to assist her.

"Sugar - it's too risky." He shook his head, knowing that she was going to go no matter what he said.

"In Michael's absence I'm assuming position as team leader - who volunteers to come back with me?" She spun round to look each and every member of the team in the eyes.

Corallie put her hand up, as did everyone else, they all knew she would have insisted on a search if it had been any of them that were missing. They also were worried about Michael, without his presence they were all less self assured, they trusted Nikita of that there was no question, but Michael's cool professionalism made them feel almost as impervious to harm as he appeared to be.

Nikita suggested that Johnson and Corallie stay behind with Walter, as their injuries would slow them down and make them vulnerable.

"Nikita - count me in - Johnson can stay here and guard the fort. We should keep one fully functional op here just in case you run into trouble, and my emergency first aid ranking is higher than anyone else you're taking -" Walter spoke softly so that only she could hear

Nikita nodded - acknowledging Walter's unspoken observation that Michael's prolonged silence implied that if he was not dead, he was probably badly hurt.

Once equipped with night vision goggles, rifles, flashlights and what seemed to be the entire first aid provision of the van, along with stretcher, they began to retrace the trail left earlier. Nikita went ahead, following the trampled foliage and muddy footprints they had left in their wake. The rain had filled the indentations of their boot prints and although the rain had stopped temporarily, water continued to drip down from the leaves of the trees as they made their way back to the site of the explosion.

When they reached the ridge they split into two pairs - Walter taking one of the younger ops with him while Nikita went in the other direction with a recently transferred op by the name of Clarkson. They walked carefully and steadily, trying to avoid the newly exposed soil that sucked at heir feet, they shone their flashlights over the edge looking for any sign of a body...

Nikita's heart stood still as she caught Walter's gasp -

"Oh my God-"

She ran back to where he stood looking down towards the river. Half buried in the mud they could just make out a man's body- one leg and an arm were still above the mud - if they had waited until morning there would have been nothing left to see. Walter's flashlight flickered over the body - the head was not visible - the tree resting on the man's shoulder obscured their view.

Nikita dragged herself away from the edge, taking the roll of rope off her shoulder and getting the other two men to tie it to a stable looking tree trunk -

"I'm the lightest - I'll go down first." She ordered giving no room for discussion - the rest of the rescue party nodded grimly, and Walter wiped his forehead and prayed that she didn't find a corpse waiting for her - if she did he didn't know what they would do.

It was a long way down and they had to tie together several coils of rope before attaching a harness that would allow Nikita to abseil down the surface towards the ledge where they had spotted the body. Walter had tried to persuade to let one of the others go - but Nikita argued that their muscle power was more use up here.

As she slowly descended she looked over her shoulder - it seemed as if she was not getting any closer, but then suddenly she was there, she yanked at the rope - letting the men above know she wanted to take control - not wanting to cause another landslide.

The ledge was reasonably stable as she tentatively placed her weight on it - she kept the rope attached just in case. She knelt down in the mud alongside the man's head - she couldn't shift the tree and its weight was pressing the body deeper and deeper into the mud. As she reached his head she could see that the mud was encroaching towards his mouth - she scooped it away so that she could reach towards his neck and feel for a pulse. It was there - thready and irregular- but still there. She shone the light into his face - it was then for the first time that she saw the blood - the rain had caused it to mingle with the mud splatters, the overall effect was a gruesome mask of red-brown that trailed grotesquely across his features.

She undid the rope from around her waist - detaching it from the harness. Then looping it around the tree, she tugged at it - hoping the men above could work out what she wanted them to do, then she lay down next to Michael - trying to shield his body from the branches that may have otherwise dragged him over the edge. The tree slowly lifted away from him and when it was clear, Nikita pushed it off of him and then lowered it gently back on the ledge - any abrupt actions could cause them both to go tumbling over the edge in a fresh fall of earth and rock.

Now that the weight was removed from Michael she could assess his injuries better, he seemed relatively unharmed, and she couldn't understand why he looked so deathly pale. Much as she hated to admit it - Walter was right, he should have come down to check out Michael's injuries - she did not know if she should move him or not - he was so still. She touched his forehead - it was cool, the damp mud must be draining his body of heat - she had to get him out of it before he started to suffer from hypothermia - although chances were he already was. Nikita had Walter lower down a blanket - she carefully placed it along one side of Michael and then went around to where he was embedded in the mud - she placed her hands carefully under his hips and chest and started to gently lever him out of the ground and onto the blanket. As she did so the full extent of his injuries became horrifically evident to her - he had landed on the side that had remained unseen until now. The left side of his face was covered in blood from an ugly gash on his head, and from the awkward position of his left arm and leg it appeared that both could have been broken. His shoulder was possibly dislocated and he probably had a few cracked ribs into the bargain.

"Walter! You'd better get down here and we'll need to get him strapped to the stretcher. "

Walter made the descent more slowly and less elegantly than Nikita - the field stretcher did not help. He found her stroking the young man's hair away from his face, the wet strands clinging to her fingers, the tips of which were stained red with blood. Walter placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her - she looked up at him, her eyes brimming over with tears that ran down her face with the rain drops -

"Walter - I'm scared."

"Sugar - I need you to help, we have to get him onto the stretcher and out of this damn mud."

Nikita watched numbly as Walter reset the dislocated shoulder -

"It'll hurt less now than when he wakes up -" he explained as the sickening sound of the bone popping back into place could be heard. Walter tried hard not to let Nikita see the expression of distress on his face- she always could read him like a book. But as he looked at the broken form of Michael - his clothes drenched with rain and plastered with mud, he doubted if the young man would survive to the top of the ridge never mind to the next day.

The injuries were all down the left side of his body - he seemed to have fallen onto his side - perhaps that may have saved him from serious internal injuries. However, it was the head wound that worried Walter the most - by flashlight he could see the slight distortion that indicated a fractured skull. He daren't tell Nikita about that, but he carefully bound the operative's head in crepe bandages - treating it as if it was as fragile as an egg.

"Walter - it's bad isn't it?"

"I can't really tell sugar, but it's best to take precautions in these kinda cases-"

"Don't bullshit me Walter - is he going to make it?"

"I don't know - but his chances are gonna be a lot better if we get him strapped up and outta here - got it?" Walter gripped her shoulders and forced her to look at him, he need her to focus on one step at a time - to begin with getting Michael off of the precarious mud ledge and back to the van.

They worked quickly - securing Michael's injured arm to his chest, Nikita pulling the bandages under his body as Walter gently raised him up off the ground. Then they bound his legs together so that hey acted as splints for each other. Once this was done they lifted him onto the field stretcher and strapped him onto it - tightly enough so that he would not fall off, but not so tight that his wounds would be made worse.

It was still another hour before they had the ropes in place and the men at the top co-ordinated to haul up Michael. Nikita hauled herself up on her own rope - reaching out whenever she could to hold him steady.

The rain had eased off again as they made their way back through the dense tropical undergrowth towards the van. Nikita was hot and sticky - the humidity was almost unbearable now, the rain rising back up from the floor of the forest as steam. The path was slippery with mud and leaves, but the operatives carrying the stretcher only faltered once. It was nearly dawn as they caught sight of the van and the Suburban in a small clearing not far from the forestry track they had driven along yesterday. Nikita checked in with Corallie before they approached any closer - once she received the all-clear they broke from cover quickly and were welcomed by the doors of the van flying open as the waiting operatives jumped out to help them get the stretcher into the back.

Corallie relayed to Nikita that they had been recalled by Operations and that she had explained that part of the team had returned to look for Michael.

"OK - Corallie - you are a class 3 op - you take the Suburban, Johnson and the new lad. I'll get Clarkson to drive the van and I'll help Walter with Michael - we head for the pick up point. No communication unless absolutely necessary - got it?"

"Sure thing - what about Parker - he's been twitchy as hell waiting for you guys to get back, shall I take him with us?"

"Why not?"

The team split up into two groups - Corallie made a prompt start - Nikita assured her they would set off as soon as they had got Michael stabilised.

In daylight he looked far worse if that was possible - his face was mottled with bruises and clotted blood caked his hair and skin along with dried mud. He had still showed no sign of regaining consciousness - she was afraid he would die before they reached the van, now she wondered if he'd make it back to Section. She checked his pulse once more, just to confirm to herself that she hadn't lost him yet, as she did so she felt Walter's arm around her shoulder-

"We have to get to the air lift location asap Nikita - he needs to be in surgery, there's nothing I can do for him here."

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

Nikita sat vigil next to Michael on the return journey - Walter had set up an emergency plasma IV tube into the undamaged right arm. He had also done his best to clean up the head wound to reduce the risk of infection - although he dreaded to think what microbes were present in the warm mud that they had pulled his body from last night. A quick check on pupil reflexes indicated that he was still responding, this reassured Walter slightly, he was worried at the shallow breathing and weak pulse, but if there had been no pupil reflex action he would have feared the worst - that there was serious brain damage.

Nikita helped strip off the damp clothes and gently dry his skin before covering him with blankets - this was difficult - they had to resort to cutting away the clothing rather than dismantling the bandages that were holding his possibly broken limbs in position. The bruising down his left side had become a sickening purple colour now with tinges of green - all the way from his left temple and cheek, along his left arm, around his ribs and across the curve of his pelvis and then continuing over the taut line of his thigh. Nikita was almost grateful he was unconscious, as the pain would be excruciating if he were awake. She sponged away the blood from his face so that Walter could apply antiseptic salve to the abrasions - she tried hard not to look at his head - but her eyes were drawn to the injury - Walter's excessive care when bandaging had given her clear evidence of its severity.

She was torn between wanting him to open his eyes and speak to her - even if it were nothing more than a terse command to report on the status of the mission. Anything to know that Michael was still there - trapped inside an injured body, but another part of her did not want to witness the suffering he was no doubt going to experience- surgery and recuperation, followed by reconditioning. That was of course dependant on the degree of his injuries, Section could decide he was not worth operating on - permanent brain damage maybe - perhaps he'd be better off not waking up at all. It occurred to her that she could help - he was so close to the edge of existence, she would only need to give him the gentlest of nudges to send him into the oblivion he appeared to be seeking for most of his waking hours. From what she knew of his nightmares, his sleeping hours were also filled with the same desires. Morphine in the IV bag would do the trick - she glanced up at Walter - he was busy discussing the route to the egress point with Birkoff, he wouldn't notice.

Walter had unpacked the morphine in case Michael came round and needed painkillers - but he made it perfectly clear to Nikita that they could not administer the powerful drug while he remained unconscious - it would be far too dangerous. She picked up the hypodermic, slid off the plastic cover from the needle and pushed it through the rubber seal into the vial - slowly she pulled the plunger back allowing the potentially lethal liquid to be drawn into the barrel of the syringe.

"Michael - what would you want me to do? End it now? Let you drift off without ever waking up? I wish you could give me a sign - something - anything - what do you want?" She held his hand as she whispered to him - he was no doubt oblivious to her words - but she couldn't make this decision for him without trying to find out what it was that he wanted.

She held the hypodermic needle in her right hand and used her left hand to stroke away the curls from his forehead, they were still spiky with dried blood. She brushed the back of her hand against his skin, now warm as if slightly feverish - a tear crept silently down her cheek and splashed onto his face running in a red tinged trail towards his lips. As her tear touched his lips, they parted slightly as if he were about to speak - his mouth looked so beautiful - as if waiting to be kissed. She allowed herself to be drawn into the illusion and bent forward - touching her lips to his, tasting the saltiness of her tears mingled with the traces of blood from the cuts on his face. She could feel his breath, warm and moist on her skin and knew intuitively that it was not time to bid him a final good night.

"You OK back there sugar?"

"Sure Walter - how much longer till we get to the plane?" Nikita answered, slipping the cover back on the needle and placing it inside her boot - out of Walter's sight.

"We should be there within thirty minutes - they've brought out a medical team to work on him on the flight back - I think you remember Dr Gilmore?"

"Oh yes - the Aussie doc - Corallie will be pleased to see him..." she smiled at the recollection of the partnership between the two.

"Oh yeah - there goes another one my day dreams out the window, she's kinda cute, doncha think?"

"Walter - if you're trying to distract me - forget it - but I'm glad Gilmore will be there - he's a decent guy and a damn good doctor..."

"Any sign of him coming round yet?" Walter asked gruffly.

"Um - I don't think so, should we try to wake him up?"

"Let's leave that to the medics..." He tried but failed to disguise his concern for the seriously injured young man. He had never seen him in quite such a bad way before and it had shaken him more than he thought possible. Like everyone else at Section he tended to think that whenever Michael got hurt he would be out of Medlab within days, seemingly as good as new. This time he could tell it was going to be different.

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

Gilmore had prepared the galley of the transport plane for emergency surgery - the stainless steel tables had been thoroughly disinfected and he'd got whole blood of Michael's blood group stored in the fridge, along with a number of drugs that he thought they may need. The hotplate had come in useful for boiling up water for sterilising the surgical tools he'd brought along; non-metallic equipment could be microwaved to kill microbes.

He had got the two nurses to help him modify the racks and hooks to hold blood bags and IV drips, and had the air conditioning in the section recycling the air for the entire trip to clean out as much dust and particles as possible.

X-ray equipment would have been useful - but that would have to wait until they got back to Section - from Walter's descriptions of the injuries, the limbs could be placed in inflatable splints until they could be accurately diagnosed and set appropriately. If ribs were cracked they could also be bound temporarily. It was the head injury that was most serious - if fragments of bone had splintered and were embedded into the soft tissue of the brain they would need to be removed urgently before they caused excessive harm. Without X-ray or MRI it would be difficult to assess the extent of the damage to his skull - and as for trauma to the meninges or actual brain tissue itself - any subdural haematoma present would need to be drained before the build up of pressure within the skull became dangerous. He cursed the fact that he had to rely on very basic diagnostic tools - but he owed Michael his life and was determined to repay the debt.

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

Nikita sat hunched up in her seat on the transport plane - her back muscles tense and aching - she had been watching the curtains that shielded the rear portion of the passenger compartment for far too long. Her neck was stiff and despite the exhaustion, she didn't dare sleep, feeling that if she was to do so, the link between her and Michael would be broken and that he wouldn't make it through surgery. She could hear Gilmore's muffled exclamations every now - and the clang of metal instruments hitting a steel tray. He had been working away in there for what seemed like hours - and probably was.

She should have been writing up her report - and the lap top sat next to her accusingly - but how could she write when her thoughts kept drawing her back to what was happening to Michael. The gun in its holster was digging into her ribs, but she never got round to moving into a more comfortable position.

Eventually her constant observation of the curtain was rewarded as it twitched back and Gilmore's face appeared his fair hair sticking up at odd angles released from the confines of the green surgical cap that he'd pulled off and thrown on the floor. His chin was covered with stubble and as she scanned his face for signs of how the operation had gone she detected a faint expression of disappointment and frustration in the set of his lips and the way his eyelids drooped down over his normally sparkly blue eyes - now they were dull and seemed to be focussed on somewhere over her right shoulder - damn she thought, he can't look me in the eye.

"Well?"

"Too early to tell - we stabilised the fractured limbs - they'll have to be set properly at Section when we get back, they're probably not as bad as they look - the mud acted like a cast holding the bones in place till you reached him-"

"Mark - I can cope with a few broken bones and so can he - now tell me the rest-"

Mark Gilmore gestured at the seat opposite Nikita and she nodded in agreement that if he felt the need to sit down for the next part, he should do so. He collapsed into the seat and stretched back his shoulders, which gave an audible click as the doctor tried to straighten his back. He leaned forward and looked straight into Nikita's eyes - her body language demanded the full truth, with no bullshit.

"OK - the head trauma - the skull seems to be intact - no fragments of bone have penetrated the brain, however, the bone has been refracted inwards, compacting the tissue of the frontal lobe of the left cerebrum. We managed to tease the section of bone away releasing the pressure on the underlying area, but damage has been done. There's no way I can assess the extent of the damage without scans. I can't judge how far the bruising extends into the cerebral hemisphere, only that it does. I'm sorry love - wish I could tell you more, but under these conditions I can do bugger all else."

Nikita rubbed her head with her hand, unconsciously massaging the identical area to that which Gilmore had been operating on for Michael. She tried to figure out if what he had told her was the good news or the bad news and if she dared ask another question.

"So what does that mean? What will happen next?"

"Best case scenario - he'll recover with one hell of a headache and slight amnesia-"

"And worst case?" She gritted her teeth in preparation for his reply.

"Severe memory loss, possibly dramatic personality change, and as it's the left side - impaired functioning in the realms of logical analysis, languages -"

"You mean all the things that Michael excels at normally?" The full impact of the potential after-effects of his injuries suddenly dawned on Nikita.

"Um - yeah I guess so-"

"Making him useless to Section-" The words came out with bitterness.

Nikita didn't speak again for the remainder of the journey - she had insisted on sitting next to Michael once they had finished cleaning him up and no-one interfered with her as she sat next to the stretcher, holding one of his hands with both of hers. She wanted to stroke his head - but the stark white bandages that stood in sharp contrast to the darkening bruises on his cheeks, put her off - she was scared that she may make the damage worse. She held onto him afraid that this would be the last time - trying to recall what she had last said to him, when she had last looked into his eyes. She was really frightened that this could be the last few hours they would have together and he was not even aware of it.

The final approach to the airstrip alerted her to the need to return to Section mode - after all she was now team leader and Operations would no doubt want a report as soon as she stepped into his territory. She crouched down close to Michael and kissed him softly on the mouth, pushing aside the tubes that extruded from his nostrils, supplying his lungs with oxygen.

"Please make it - for me." She whispered into his ear and then reluctantly placed his hand back by his side, before taking one last look at him.

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

As expected Operations was waiting as they entered Section - he looked furious, barely constrained rage, he snapped at her -

"Debrief - now!"

Madeline was at his side and Nikita could see the look on her face as she watched Michael's body being rushed to Medical - she could have sworn the woman looked worried.

"Fine."

Also as she could have predicted he didn't like the report - he was obsessed with the audio files and kept replaying the last words that she had heard Michael speak -

"Nikita - we have made contact - it's-"

"What did he mean? What happened out there Nikita? What did Michael see? Who was there?"

"I have no idea - we searched the entire area - there was nothing. The blast made sure that no tracks could be distinguished. We were all lucky to get out alive - whoever they were they knew we were there looking for them."

"Dammit. You are dismissed for now - but don't go far, I'm keeping everyone on close quarters till I know what went wrong." Operations growled the orders, he was obviously not coping well with being out of control.

As Nikita turned to exit his office her heart sunk as she heard him bark out a command to Birkoff -

"Call me as soon as Michael recovers consciousness."

"Sir he came round a short while ago-"

"And you didn't inform me!" He shouted at the poor boy before storming out of his eyrie, roughly shoving past a stunned Nikita. His forceful strides triggered alarms in Nikita's head and she pursued him as quickly as she could.

Nikita reached the medical area moments after Operations, who was having a stand up row with the two doctors - Grahams and Gilmore.

"No - it's far too early to question him about anything!"

"For God's sake man - he probably won't know who you are just yet - give him a break!"

They tried to bar his way from entering the darkened wing where Michael lay in a recovery bay.

"You have two choices gentlemen - get out of my way - or I shall have you removed. I will make the decision about when it's the right time to talk to my operatives - not you!"

"Jesus - you cold hearted son of a -"

"Easy Mark - you're more use to our patients if you stay in one piece yourself-" Grahams placed a hand on Gilmore's shoulder, he was used to the way that Section, and in particular Operations, chose to work and could tell this was an argument they weren't going to win.

Meanwhile Gilmore caught sight of Nikita watching wide-eyed from the doorway behind Operations - she wanted to see Michael - but was apparently having an internal struggle over whether or not to challenge the stubborn leader herself.

"OK - five minutes maximum - then we need to carry out some more tests. "

The doctors stood aside and Operations swept past them. Nikita followed in his wake - daring either of them to stop her.

Michael was conscious - just - his eyes were glazed with pain and his focus was fuzzy from the pain medication. The doses used had made him nauseous and the bright lights had hurt his eyes. That was why the lights had been dimmed. He could barely make out what was going on in the periphery of his vision - an altercation between two men in white coats and a dark suited, white haired man. The latter came sharply into focus as he suddenly came towards Michael.

"Michael - how are you?"

'Michael' - that was apparently his name he thought to himself, it seemed vaguely familiar. Then he figured out that although the man was speaking to him in English his own thoughts were in French.

"Je suis - comment ?" the words came out slurred and he licked his lips which were dry and cracked.

"L'eau s'il vous plaît ?"

"Michael - in English dammit!"

Gilmore grabbed his arm and drew him back -

"He needs some water - let me get him a drink first - and for God's sake stop yelling at the poor guy!"

Operations was taken aback by the guts of the Australian doctor and stepped away from the bedside to allow the medic to hold a glass of water with a straw in it to Michael's parched lips -

"Just sip slowly for now - don't gulp it, the nausea will only get worse if you do-"

"Michael - who was it? What happened out there?"

"Je ne sais pas. Qui sont vous ?" Michael struggled to cope with a blinding headache and this man's insistent questions - he could understand the words, but didn't know what he was talking about and his responses kept coming out in French - perhaps if he concentrated harder.

"Where am I?" The words came out heavily accented - but the distress was evident.

Operations leaned over the bed - taking in the sight of the disorientated man and shaking his head in disgust he spoke to the doctors without looking at them -

"The moment he starts to make sense - you call me."

With that he walked out of the area, not seeing Nikita who had allowed herself to slide down the wall and was sitting quietly with her arms wrapped around her knees. As soon as Operations had left she stood up slowly and wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes made her way to Michael's bedside.

"Nikita - you shouldn't be here-" Gilmore stood in her way.

"Just a minute -please?" She begged.

"Try not to get him more upset - OK? I'm giving him a sedative to calm him down, so you've got a couple of minutes before he fades out again - got it?"

"Sure."

She approached Michael carefully - taking in the dreadful bruising and the look of pain in the depths of his clouded green eyes. He was glancing around him - trying to find something familiar to latch onto - something to help him remember. He looked lost, scared almost, like he was when she rescued him from Perez - but worse, he must be in so much pain and he doesn't remember a thing...

"Michael - it's me- "

"Nikita? Je tu connais bon -" Her face broke into a smile as tears spilt down her cheeks, he knew her - thank God- she took his hand and held it to her lips.

"Nikita - je t'aime -" he seemed to mumble as his eyelids flickered shut cutting out the light and the pain as the sedative took effect and the darkness enfolded him once more.

"Michael?"

"He's out of it for now - Operations' little session had his blood pressure soaring and we don't want to risk any haemorrhaging from the damaged blood vessels in his brain - you OK Nikita? You're looking pale."

Gilmore grabbed a stool and got her propped on it holding her shoulders as she got a grip -

"He's not Section's Michael anymore is he?" Her worst fears seemed to be confirmed - and Operations would have him cancelled, she had no doubt of that.

"You don't know that Nikita - at the moment we can't tell for certain. The amnesia could be temporary, it could be brought on by the trauma of the accident as much as by the injury itself. He knew who you were-"

"He knew my name - yes, but I could have sworn he said -"

"Said what?"

"Oh nothing - he was probably delirious or something-"

"Nikita - whatever he said - I'm sure he meant it as much as he meant needing a drink of water-"

Nikita smiled to herself as she looked across to Michael - perhaps he could only say certain things when he forgot who he was meant to be...

"Maybe ... how long before you'll know for sure what the damage is?"

"Could be days or weeks - sorry love, ask Grahams - he's the trauma expert round here, I'm just his back up."

"Later - I'd better go change." It had occurred to her earlier as she had sat on the floor listening to Operations attempt to interrogate Michael that she was still dressed in her mission gear - thickly encrusted with dried mud.

"Is that the same mud that you dug Michael out of?"

"Yes- why?"

"Get the technicians to scrape some samples for a microbe analysis - he had a few open wounds, I hate to think what could be infecting him..."

"What?"

"He's feverish - that could be due to low level infection, or perhaps a malfunctioning hypothalamus - personally I'd rather it was a bug - I know how to kill them."

Nikita sloped off to the path lab to have them take soil samples from her clothes and boots. Feverish huh? That would account for a mumbled declaration of love she figured.

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

Luckily the soil analysis allowed the medics to isolate the bacterium responsible for Michael's fever which flared up as the pain medication suppressed his immune system. An appropriate antibiotic was identified and within a week he was stabilised once more. Operations had called every day to enquire of his progress and had been down twice to see if Michael could answer his questions.

Nikita had sat by him during the height of the fever and although he muttered away to himself in French she never heard him utter that phrase again. The doctors had been forced to restrain him to stop him from pulling the IV lines from his veins as he tossed and turned. The sight of him strapped down and in such torment almost broke her heart, she wanted so much to just take him in her arms and rock him gently and kiss him better, but all she could do was stroke her fingertips across his hot skin and let him know she was there.

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

When the infection had passed its worst stage she came by less often - she was on active status after all and had been kept busy. Another week passed by and she returned to Section, nursing a sprained wrist - first she had to check in her gear with Walter and then to Medlab to have it treated and while she was there she could check on Michael's progress.

Walter looked up from his work station-

"Hi there sugar - miss me?"

"Sure Walter - I always do - the gear's all here - give us a hand will you, I've pulled a ligament or something-"

"No worries - I'll sort it out -you off to have that fixed up then?" He glanced up from the pile of guns and unspent ammo that spilled out from a compact kit bag. Nikita caught the glimpse of something odd in his expression.

"Yeah - why Walter? - What aren't you telling me? - it's about Michael, isn't it?"

"Hush - keep it down - Operations gave up trying to question Michael so he got Madeline to try, but for some reason her questioning totally freaked him out - Gilmore said it took hours to get him off the ceiling after wards-"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" hissed Nikita, that woman's presence probably triggered some pretty awful memories.

"Any how - they gave up-"

"They haven't-?" she felt her heart skip a beat as she wondered if they'd had him cancelled.

"NO!" denied Walter shaking his head vigorously. "Sugar - they have assigned a special psychiatrist to him, from outside of section. It's her job to open up his memories-"

"Walter - he's been repressing so much - do they have any idea what they're doing to him?" Nikita was horrified at the prospect of Michael having some unenlightened shrink stumbling through the carefully concealed memories that she knew haunted his sleep

"I don't know sugar- all I know is that she won't let anyone from his past near him, she says it will only distract him from the programme of therapy she has scheduled."

"Well - if she thinks she's going to keep me away from Michael - "

"Here's your chance to find out -she's on her way to Birkoff now." Walter nodded in the direction of Birkoff's systems department.

Nikita turned her head to catch sight of a petite woman, with short dark brown hair in a neat bob, which yelled out 'control freak'. However, the woman was dressed in a figure hugging black coat that flared out from the waist, looking more like a cloak the way it swirled about her legs, and as she came to a halt opposite Birkoff it parted to reveal shiny black vinyl pants. Nikita was surprised at the outfit but not by the effect it had, the vinyl stretched over the woman's shapely legs and squeaked slightly as she adjusted her position to catch the Birkoff's attention. As Birkoff looked up, it was possible to observe the perspiration appearing across his brow.

"Dr Holly Karoff - " drooled Walter. "Sorry sugar- but you were out of town."

Nikita sized the woman up from the polished toes of her 4" stiletto heels to the meticulously straight parting in her hair and decided that she did not like what she saw. She was still in her mission gear, her own hair anything but under control, but she felt as if she was on her own territory as she strode across towards Dr Karoff.

"Hi - I'm Nikita, I hear you've been brought in to help Michael - how's he doing?"

"So you are Nikita - not quite what I was expecting, but never mind. As for Michael's progress that's none of your concern."

Karoff made to walk away from Nikita but she found her way blocked as Nikita out paced her and stood in her way -

"Two points - one, Michael IS my concern and two - don't walk off like that again - it's rude. If you don't want to tell me how he's doing I'll find out myself - I'm on my way to medical now."

Karoff lifted a beautifully manicured hand - the nails of which gleamed like bright red claws of a particularly vicious carnivore - and pushed Nikita out of the way,

"Good luck - he isn't there any more. If you work out his location - don't bother trying to get there - he's off limits to disruptive variables such as yourself."

Nikita stood there, her jaw dropping at being described as a 'disruptive variable' - as if Michael were just an experiment to the psychiatrist....

As soon as Nikita had Birkoff to herself she turned on him with an attack he could see coming from the moment the two women met -

"Where?"

"I can't tell you Nikita - it's more than my life is worth.... seriously. I can tell you one thing though - he is still here in Section for now, but she wants to move him out of here. If you want to see him you're going to have to do it through Madeline or Operations."

An abusive retort almost made it past Nikita's lips but she held it back at the last moment. She had other sources of information - perhaps ones not so besotted by the charms of the petite shrink...

"I'll deal with you later Birkoff - depend on it."

************* Nikita strolled into the Medical area and found her quarry soon enough - it was Mark Gilmore's shift and he was on his own.

"Hiya - could you check out this wrist for me and I think I damaged the back of my thigh - perhaps you could- "

"My pleasure - as always ... just don't go thinking I tell these fellas to aim just so I can treat a different part of your lovely anatomy each time you visit."

Nikita struggled one-handed with the zippers and fastenings of her mission pants -

"Shit - these things aren't designed to be undone single-handed - I don't suppose you could-?"

And in one fell swoop she had landed her prey...

"Sure thing sweetheart - let's get your boots off first shall we?"

As she sat on the edge of the examination couch he carefully removed her boots - then she stood up again and he skilfully undid the fastenings like a kiddie opening a Christmas present. Then he eased his hands inside the fabric so that he could ease the clothing away from her legs with the minimum of friction - Nikita couldn't help but make a mental note that he was 'good' at this.

Then as he gently turned her so that he could examine the back of her thigh, she made sure her hips wriggled provocatively in his face and that he appreciated the thong underwear she had slipped on, so much comfier when running in mission pants, a handy tip she had been given by her one -time trainer.

As soon as she could detect an increased breathing rate from the poor physician, who was trying so hard to remain professional as he palpated her thigh muscles, Nikita went in for the kill. She suddenly gripped his hand between her legs trapping it mere millimetres from her panties and then whispered...

"OK doc - either tell me where Michael has been taken - or I scream blue murder and accuse you of molesting me - what's it to be?"

"Christ Nikita - you could have just asked you know! "

She released his hand and spun round to look down into his hurt looking face-

"Sorry - must have clenched by reflex- it doesn't seem so bad after all - can you do something with my wrist?"

As Gilmore wrapped his white coat around himself to hide his embarrassment, Nikita tugged her pants back over her hips, sat down and proffered her arm. While bandaging it up to keep the ligaments in place, Gilmore slid in a piece of paper between the layers of gauze. Whenever he was close enough he whispered brief reports on Michael's condition - updating her on his physical progress.

"We have to keep an eye on him - he's still confined to bed rest until the arm and leg finish healing, luckily his legs were just badly bruised and the edge of his hip - bone was chipped. He should be mobile within two weeks."

Nikita whispered back-

"His head?"

"The head injury is healing well - but he still speaks in French rather than English ...as if it's safer. Madeline's session with him was awful - she wouldn't let us near, but we heard the screams-"

"Michael's?" asked Nikita shocked to hear that he had cried out.

"It was after that they insisted on someone else to do the pysch work - something about Madeline scared the crap out of the guy."

"What's Karoff like?"

"Between you and me the babe is bogus - the only genuine signal I get from that piece of work is that she wants to score with Michael."

Nikita knew then that her instincts had been correct-

"Elaborate -"

"I've seen the surveillance - seen her 'bedside manner'..."

The look that Gilmore saw in Nikita's eyes alerted him to major trouble brewing - he just hoped it happened during Grahams' shift.

Nikita's first stop was Birkoff - he tried to look busy but failed -

"Pay back time - you don't have to tell me anything - just call Karoff away from her lair. Say Operations needs to see her or something - but I want you to keep her occupied for at least fifteen minutes - got it?"

"That won't be easy ... she's very clever Nikita - she'll work out that something's amiss-"

"Yeah - and I'm very pissed, and I might just break your fingers if you don't do as I ask - "

"OK - " Nikita missed the look of dismay that drifted across his features, he was getting fed up with being manipulated by powerful women, no doubt Walter would say lie back and enjoy it while it lasts, but he was feeling used.

Nikita waited in the shadows until she saw Karoff walk up to Birkoff. Then she slipped unobserved towards the elevator that led to the level where Michael was being held. She checked the scrap of paper passed to her by Gilmore and memorised the code numbers before swallowing it. As she entered the code on the panel outside the door she looked all around but the floor appeared to be deserted. Inside the room it was bright- this struck her as odd, since Michael had shown an aversion to high light intensities since his head injury. He was restrained on a bed in the centre of the room and his eyes were red and seemed to be watering...

"Michael it's me Nikita - what's going on?"

She belatedly scanned the room for surveillance equipment but couldn't spot anything obvious. She walked over to the side of the bed and spoke again - this time shielding his eyes from the light so that he could see her without having to squint.

"Nikita - please help- something's wrong..."

"Michael - you can speak English?"

"Nikita - yes if I concentrate hard, but the drugs make it difficult. I have to tell Operations what I saw - I think it must be important." His voice was desperate - and she could see the effort it took to speak to her - his eyes began watering again as her shadow moved from his face.

"Michael - what is Karoff doing to you?"

At the mention of the woman's name a vague look came over his face and he broke eye contact with her-

" Je ne comprends pas, la mère est fâchée avec moi. Je suis désolé."

"Michael?"

"Total gibberish - he can't understand a word you're saying. Mind you, that's a failing of yours as well -I told you he was out of bounds to you. If you leave now I won't bother calling security."

Nikita was surprised that someone in those pants could sneak up on any one - she must have let her guard slip due to her concern for Michael - and as for Birkoff, he was kebab meat.

"He's a friend - I was worried. What's it to you?"

"Get out - he's my patient." Despite her stature the smaller woman stood her ground and glared at Nikita until she conceded defeat and reluctantly left the room.

"I'll see you later Michael!" She called out in defiance as the door was slammed in her face.

"Time for your medicine Michael -I do hope that nasty vulgar woman hasn't upset you..."

She took a syringe from the stand next to the bed and slid it into the catheter taped to the back of his hand. As she injected the substance into his veins, a peculiar sense of euphoria blossomed in his thoughts and he tried to remember who had just visited him, so pretty such lovely golden hair.... who was it again?

He glanced up to see Holly Karoff shedding her clothing in a heap until she stood there in nothing but a lacy red and black bra and panty set. She approached him in a purely predatory manner and unbuckled the straps that held his arms and legs in place. She pulled away the sheets to reveal him - wearing nothing but fresh white bandages. She smiled salaciously, tracing her blood red fingertips over his curves from neckline to crotch and back again all the while licking her dark red glossy lips with the tip of her pink tongue.

"Don't worry - I changed the code number - the nasty girl won't bother you anymore- I'm going to make the pain go away, you remember me don't you, I'm your wife - Simone..."

************* Nikita had gone to her quarters in section to get changed - having seen Karoff's outfit she chose a white ensemble to stand out in contrast to the creature that they had now loosed on Michael. She had to see Operations and she had to be convincing - the only way to make headway had to be by subterfuge. If she went in screaming that Karoff was trying to get laid by Michael, she would be laughed all the way to van egress. No it had to be convincing.

Operations was obsessed with the Ecuadorian mission - he had a hatred for dense jungle territory at the best of times, but something about this particular case had him more agitated than she could believe possible. Fortunately for Michael - he was so determined to find the answer, he had not even considered cancellation - as long as Michael held secrets within his head he was safe.

She had to persuade them that she was able to do a better job than the psychiatrist could. If she could discredit the woman ... if only there were records of surveillance, she had to find out.

"Birkoff?"

"Forget it - no more favours!"

"Fine - I'll ask Walter-"

She grabbed the back of Birkoff's chair and sent it into a spin that caused the young computer operative to get seriously nauseous not to mention infuriated as it pulled out two of the leads networking the system together.

"Walter-"

"Woah there pussy cat - nice kit, need any help with the zipper later - let me know." She knew the long white dress, low cut at the back with a zipper down the side would have the desired effect on Walter.

"Walter - can you tell me if there's any surveillance on level 9 at the moment- don't ask why then you won't be involved." She smiled sweetly and kissed him on the tip of his nose.

"Yes - just the one room - limited access to Dr Karoff only. Sorry sugar, she's the only one who knows the security code, she reset her password as soon as it was issued."

"Where's she based?"

"Medlab I guess -"

"Any chance you can access the feed from that room - intercept it maybe?"

"Hold on - let's see - " Walter fiddled clumsily with the keys on his keyboard until he paused for a fraction of a second, flushed red to the edge of his bandanna and then resumed typing quickly.

"Walter - what was that? What did you just see?"

"Must have been someone relaying the Adult channel sugar, sure as hell embarrassed me. Sorry can't get access to that room."

Nikita knew he was lying on two counts - the first being that very little actually existed that could embarrass him and secondly, she noticed that his eyes had widened in shock briefly. Why was he protecting Karoff?

Walter shook his head as if he'd been hallucinating - but it sure had looked like the shrink was adopting some pretty unorthodox treatment methods, he wondered if she saw patients privately.

Nikita scowled at the older man - no more flirting with him for a day or two she decided. Next stop - Gilmore, he owed her one for the free flash of underwear.

************* "Gilmore?"

"Yes Nikita - what happened? - I've been expecting incoming wounded for the past two hours."

"You're right about Karoff. How do you know about her 'bedside manner' - have you been watching?"

"I've been there to attend to Michael - she won't have any nurses present, just her surveillance and either me or Grahams go up every two hours to check on his condition, dressings and so on..."

"And what is it you've seen?"

"The way she touches him - caresses is nearer the truth. Also the look on her face is well - you know- like she wants him all to herself. She won't allow us to administer the drugs, she insists on doing that herself. In fact the ones we leave are not touched."

"Birkoff said she wanted to get him out of section. If she did - she be in sole charge of his medication right?"

"I guess so... what are getting at Nikita?"

"I'm not sure - but I want you to run checks on this female, I'd ask Walter and Birkoff but she's got them wrapped around her little finger. I want to know why they called her in and where she came from. Also - I want you to check on the drugs she's giving him - Michael said they were making his memory recall worse."

"I checked them already - standard medications to alleviate trauma to the frontal lobes. A general anti-psychotic as well as lithium carbonate which is used to modify mood swings, usually associated with manic depression. Heavy stuff granted - not necessarily my choice-"

"Are you sure the drugs are what they say they are?"

"You mean incorrectly labelled drugs - that's totally unprofessional!"

"Don't act shocked with me Gilmore - I read about the Panorama Hotel - we both know why you're here- now can you get hold of some of the drugs she's feeding Michael and get them analysed?"

"I don't see a problem with that."

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

"Simone? Simone est morte - tu n'est pas Simone..." he writhed on the pillows as she straddled him having to yet again resort to the wrist restraints. He dare not move too much or the pressure on his bruised ribs would have been agonizing.

"Michael - you were badly hurt, your memories have been affected. Trust me - "

" Où est Nikita? Je veux voir Nikita - maintenant!"

"Be quiet - there is no Nikita - you imagined her ...your mind is playing tricks on you. Don't worry, once we get you home you'll remember everything you need to. Perhaps some more medicine would be a good idea, you seem very anxious -"

"Non - Je ne veux plus de médecine!"

Without getting off his body she leaned over and opened a vial of small yellow pills, she took one and forced open his jaw, then held his nose and covered his mouth with her hand until he was forced to swallow. She was aware of how long he could hold his breath - but by squeezing her thighs about his ribcage she could cut a few minutes off of his record.

He began to gag as the pill stuck to his soft palate - so she poured water into his open mouth until he reluctantly swallowed, it was that or allow the liquid to enter his lungs and drown him.

As he held tenaciously to the last remnants of conscious thought he looked at her with unclouded vision and struggled to speak one sentence in English -

"You are not Section- who do you work for?"

"I am whoever I choose you to believe I am Michael."

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

Nikita walked purposefully past Walter's station, past Birkoff, deliberately ignoring both of them as she made her way towards Operations' overhanging office- she found Operations waiting for her.

"Yes Nikita - I was expecting you - why are you interfering with the work of Holly Karoff?"

"Because I don't believe she's who she says she is."

"Why?"

"What she's doing is not standard procedure-"

"We are aware of that Nikita - in order to access the information trapped in Michael's crippled mind we have had to resort to some rather drastic measures -

"That's all you care about - what he saw! You don't care what these treatments will do to him - as long as you get your answers you don't care what mess is left - you'll just call in house keeping to put out the garbage - is that it? You bastard!"

"Nikita - don't tempt me to put you out of my misery. Admittedly the information that Michael has locked within his mind could be of extreme usefulness to us and could help us put a stop to these assaults for good. However, I am not in the habit of letting disreputable quacks work over my operatives, especially those as skilled as Michael was-"

"Was?" Nikita instantly picked up on Operations' use of the past tense.

"Nikita - provide me with proof that Dr Karoff should not proceed with the treatment of Michael and I will have her appointment terminated, until you do so - Michael is her patient and you will do as she asks in future."

"Does that mean I can't visit him?"

"Certainly not - but that won't be a problem - she has arranged for him to be relocated to a safe house - she says that by placing him in a more 'domestic' environment she can break down the barriers and allow access to the relevant memories. "

"What about medical supervision? Do you have the house under surveillance?"

"Dr Karoff is a qualified physician as well as a psychiatrist, she will be able to administer to his needs. We will be conducting low level surveillance. Nikita - it is essential Michael does not become paranoid or overly concerned - you will not go near him, is that understood?"

"I understand that you are so obsessed with the answer to what Michael saw in the jungle that day, that you are prepared to stake his health, sanity and life on it - I hope it's worth it!"

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

It was over a month later before Nikita got the proof she needed - Operations had deliberately kept her in the field. There had been an increased incidence of missions recently - a lot of which had gone badly wrong, partly due to the absence of Michael she thought remorsefully to herself.

Birkoff and Walter believed her obsession was driven by jealousy - they tried to reason with her that Michael need to recover in his own good time and that she should be 'patient' - how dare they?

Dr Gilmore's analysis of the drugs had been limited to traces he could scrape from the floor after the room had been sanitised. He had found evidence of strong psycho-active drugs used in Madeline's memory modification treatments - but Operations had pointed out that they could have got there on shoes or been there from previous clients - their presence proved nothing.

But she'd eventually made the discovery - one that simultaneously supported her argument and scared her out of her wits - the real Doctor Holly Karoff was found murdered, the body dumped in Lake Michigan and brought up in the nets of a trawler amongst some blistered fish.

So who was it that had Michael and what the hell had they done to him?

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

"Simone?"

"Yes Michael?"

The slim man snuggled up closer to the petite dark haired woman and draped his leg over hers holding her against him. He planted delicate gentle kisses along her shoulder and around her collarbone.

"You have been wonderful over the last few weeks - I'll never know how you managed to persuade Madeline and Operations to give us this time together..."

"It wasn't easy - but you needed it my love - the accident was so awful, I thought I'd lost you." As her eyes began to glisten with tears, he pulled her around and into his arms feeling her warmth spread into his chest. Her breasts so round and firm, pressing against him so exquisitely - to think that only a few weeks ago, it had seemed as if he had never met her before.

"You have been so patient - I don't think I realise how lucky I am to have such a precious wife as you. You have tolerated all my memory lapses - the nightmares about the other women - my God, to think I actually believed I had been married to someone else while I was still with you - and even had a child."

"Hush - my sweet - it must have been the medication you were on, but now you know - and talking through missions and procedures has helped you clear up the facts from the nightmares..."

"I know - the one where you die still keeps coming back - that and the ones about Nikita, she seems so real -"

Karoff decided that any further exploration of his 'nightmares' would be counterproductive until after his next dose of medication. Time for a distraction she pondered as she slid her free arm over his beautifully proportioned torso and towards his hips - he winced slightly as she touched the tip of his pelvic bone. His injuries were almost completely healed, but the occasional pain still bothered him. But his discomfort was soon forgotten as she ran her fingers along the valley that led towards his magnificent manhood, which promptly stood to attention unable to resist her advances. Karoff chuckled as she gave herself a mental pat on the back for adding an aphrodisiac to the daily concoction she administered to him.

"Is something amusing you my love?" asked Michael softly as he began to stroke her body in return - playfully tickling her ribs.

"Oh - nothing important - just don't stop there - put those fingers to good use, you know how..." she almost purred as he obeyed her commands - the hypnotherapy had also been a brainwave she thought as she rolled onto her back luxuriating in the feel of his skin against hers. She bit into her bottom lip to control the pleasure that radiated out from wherever his hands touched her.

It was at this point that the doorbell rang - Karoff jerked up from the satin sheets alarmed - surely they would not come in person to collect the information, she had been filtering it through regularly along the usual channels.

"Ignore it - if it's important they will come back - " Michael mumbled as he began nibbling his way gently down her body and was burying his head between her breasts - the short curls brushing her nipples.

"No - I'd better go." She was already half way out of bed and Michael needed to be with her.

"Not by yourself - let me come with you."

As Karoff pulled a dressing gown on - Michael pulled on a pair of loose jogging pants. He followed her to the door and stood behind her with his arm lovingly encircling her neat waist and his chin resting on her head as she opened the door - and his nightmares came flooding in.

"Michael?" Nikita's expression was one of shock - but nothing compared to Michael's - he clutched his head in his hands and screamed - a deep pitiful wail, as his world came crashing down about him.

Nikita took her gun from her side and pushed Karoff back into the apartment - between them they dragged Michael in. He refused to be touched and careered into furniture - knocking over ornaments, initially by accident and then on purpose - hurling anything breakable at the walls - smashing the façade that he'd been living behind for the past four weeks.

"Birkoff - I need back -up now - make sure Gilmore is with them!" Nikita's voice was close to panic and the tactical team back at Section immediately grasped the urgency of the situation.

"You've got it." Birkoff was shaken by the audio he had just received - whatever the hell had happened it sounded like someone just got hurt badly, and it sounded like Michael.

She couldn't get near to Michael - her presence had triggered a frightening reaction which she could barely come to terms with.

"You - get him on the sofa- now!" - she growled at Karoff.

Karoff did what she was told - she had her way out arranged and wasn't too concerned. Soon enough Nikita would be far too busy scraping Michael off the floor to worry about where she was.

"Simone?" He directed the query to her - she shrugged in return.

"Michael? She isn't Simone - Simone is dead! I was there with you when she died."

"Then the nightmares were true and the rest were lies - je ne comprends pas - what's happening? - I loved you - I thought you were Simone - Oh God noooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!" As the full realisation hit him of how screwed up his perception of reality had been, how he'd betrayed Section, Nikita and the memory of Simone - the child - Adam ... the impact struck him like a physical blow. Then the drugs in his system took control over his reactions to the overwhelming burden of guilt that shook him to his core - there was only one way out, only one acceptable outcome.

Nikita approached the shaking wreckage that had once been Michael - she wanted so much to comfort him, to bring him back - she reached out but before she could stop him he had grabbed her gun and made a dash down the corridor of the apartment into the bathroom -

"Damn!" she swore angry at her own carelessness. She pursued him - but was too late as she heard the bolt click home - it was then that she spun round looking for Karoff - but the woman had gone -

"Birkoff - the bitch has got out - send Red team - make sure they fetch her back."

"Michael - come out -please, we can make it better -please come out-" She begged outside the bathroom door. She thought she had a chance of talking him out - that was until she heard gunfire.

The sounds of two bullet shots rang out from the small room, followed by shattering glass - he must be shooting his own reflection she realised - he meant to take his own life of that she was now certain- driven to suicidal desperation. She started to kick at the door - the centre panel buckled inwards splintering along its length, through a jagged gap she could see him slumped on the floor - the barrel of the gun lodged under his chin - his eyes shut tight, a solitary tear trailing down his cheek -

"Michael - don't do it!!!!!" She shouted while ramming the door with her shoulder now - the hinges started to give way - then with a final adrenaline boosted surge of energy she knocked the door in and landed on top of Michael. As she tumbled into the room his finger squeezed the trigger - but missing him the bullet tore into Nikita's thigh. The sight of her blood gushing out and over his hands was all it took to send Michael hurtling over the thin edge on which he had been teetering and into the dark well of total insanity. He plunged down - oblivious to the back up team that came bursting in behind Nikita.

Gilmore rushed to Nikita's side seeing the blood gushing out over her legs and onto the bathroom floor -

"No - help Michael - get the gun off him!" she yelled at the men who stood by the remains of the door watching as the doctor scrambled to get a tourniquet tied tightly around her leg.

In fact it was not hard to disarm the virtually catatonic man that had curled himself up into a foetal ball and was lying amongst splinters of wood and shards of broken mirror. The glass and wood were both splattered with droplets of her blood, as were Michael's hands that covered his face and as he slowly began to rock she could see tears escaping between his fingers diluting her bloodstains.

"Birkoff - Michael secured - what happened to Karoff?" Nikita snapped into her comm unit.

"I'm sorry Nikita - we still haven't detained her." He was sorry too - sorry he hadn't listened to Nikita's instincts, sorry he'd trusted the stirrings in his pants over the wisdom of a friend.

Nikita ordered transport to the building - an ambulance would be needed as cover - with stretchers for both her and Michael.

Gilmore had helped her out of the bathroom and into the decimated lounge. Two of the team had followed Gilmore's instructions and taken a bed sheet and rolled Michael onto it so they could carry him into the lounge without too much contact, they held him still as the doctor gave him a sedative. Nikita had him lain next to her so she could stroke his hair - she hadn't seen it for a while now - the shorter curls where the hair had re-grown after surgery suited him. If only she could have protected him better.

"Mark - what can you do for him?"

"For now - tranquillise him till we get back to Medlab - then I reckon a detox program to purge his system of all the crap that she injected into him. But as for his mind - I don't know..." He rubbed his head to hide the frown - Michael was in a bad way and from what he'd picked up the rescue mission had backfired in respect to the poor guy's sanity. Sure they'd recovered his body in one piece, but his mind was shattered.

"He looks broken - will they even bother trying to repair him do you think?" She tried to imagine the callous attitude that Operations would no doubt exhibit.

"Nikita - if anyone can persuade them - it's gotta be you. He's a basket case at the moment love - is he worth rescuing?"

"Oh yes - he doesn't know it and probably never will - but he is..."

"You love him?"

She couldn't speak for fear of sobbing out loud, so she just nodded. In her head though were the lyrics from a song -

Who was it that did this to you? Well if I could have my way I would line them up against a wall - Do unto them as they have done to you

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

If there was anyone in Section who could not cope with their self worth being dashed on the rocks of despair it was Michael - he lay open eyed in his own quarters in Section - on suicide alert.

Nikita had not been able to see him for two whole days - Grahams had insisted on a minimum of two days bed rest until her blood count had restored itself and the wound was healing.

She was both desperate to see him and terrified - what if he couldn't be put together this time - what if he was beyond help? She thought back to the hypodermic of morphine she had stuffed into her boot - perhaps it would have been the kindest thing to have done for him. She could have saved him the heartache and pain - as for his soul - what damage had that sustained? She dared not imagine how he must have been feeling. If he came through his she knew he would probably retreat so far back into himself that he would become even more of an automaton than ever before.

She stood at the entrance to his quarters, she knew there would be surveillance on him - he was on suicide watch after all. According to Gilmore he'd tried twice since his return to Section - once with drugs kept back and stashed away until he'd saved sufficient to constitute an overdose and the second time with a smashed glass that he had dug into his wrist before they could get to him. They couldn't keep him in Medlab - there were too many potential dangers - his quarters had been stripped of all furnishings and were under constant surveillance. The reason for his desire to self- destruct seemed to be tied up with the belief that he'd killed Nikita and refused to trust their video evidence of her continued survival. For that alone she had to go to him - she had to convince him that he'd not inadvertently taken her life when attempting to take his own.

She walked into his room and closed the door behind her. He was sitting in one of the corners - his head tucked down on his chest rocking slowly and without any outward sigh of noticing anything around him. He looked gaunt and thin - his hair dishevelled and stubble on his chin. There were still bloodstains on his clothes from where he'd tried to end his life. Although they had stitched the wound and bound his wrist he had torn the bandages away and tried to pull the stitches loose with his teeth, that's why they had to put him in the strait jacket.

Nikita's heart ached so much to see him reduced to this - a shell of the proud, sometimes arrogant, supremely confident operative. Even then the exterior housed a wounded soul. She wondered what was left of the man within the vacant looking exoskeleton - then he looked up - his eyes red rimmed and shadowed.

She dropped her crutch and lowered herself to the floor before sliding across to him -

"Michael - it's me Nikita."

"How do I know it's you - they play tricks on your mind you know - nothing is real - it's all a lie..."

"No - as you once said to me 'it wasn't all a lie' - come back Michael - I need you... I hate to see you like this -"

"They were soldiers."

"What? Who were soldiers?"

"In the jungle - Marines - renegades - mercenaries..."

"Michael - what are you saying?"

"He wanted to know - that's his answer - will he let me go now?" He looked up to her his eyes beseeching for permission to be released from this hell.

"Oh Michael - I knew it wasn't worth the price..." Her voice broke as she muttered out loud, she had warned Operations that his obsession would cost Michael dear and it had.

She pulled his head into her lap and held him there - rocking in time with him as tears flowed down her face to splash onto the harsh fabric that bound him tight.

She let her head droop down until she rested it against his - she would bring him back and together they would make those responsible pay for this.

Shadowmind - Epilogue

The only place where you can dream,
Living here is not what it seems.
Ship of white light in the sky,
Nobody there to reason why.
Here I am, I'm not really there,
Smiling faces ever so rare.
Let's walk in deepest space,
Living here just isn't the place.

Stalks of light come from the ground,
When I cry there isn't a sound.
All my feelings cannot be held,
I'm happy in my new strange world.
Shades of green grasses twine,
Girls drinking plasma wine.
A look at love, a dream unfolds,
Living here, you'll never grow old.
Don't you hear me call?

Iron Maiden (1980) Strange world

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