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. As Michael strode down the corridor towards Madeline's office, he was already blaming himself for the failure of the mission. He should have been better prepared, and more focused. He should have known it was a set up. If he had done his job, two operatives wouldn't be dead, and the book Section was desperate to get wouldn't be in the hands of the enemy. The moment Michael entered the room, Operations attacked. "What happened?" he demanded, his pale eyes flashing. "My mistake," Michael countered, refusing to make any excuses. "I'll get the book," he promised. "How?" Operations challenged. "My understanding is that a Legion agent now has it in his possession." Michael nodded. "That's right. But I'll get it back." Madeline moved to confront him. "You have a plan?" "I will," Michael replied, his eyes locking with her and seeing what looked like compassion in hers. He quickly looked away. "We've got forty-eight hours to retrieve that book, Michael," Operations announced. "Don't disappoint me." He didn't add that he was already disappointed. Ever since Nikita's demise, Michael had lost his edge as a cold op. Operations regretted the loss. Turning towards the door Michael asked, "Is that all?" Madeline touched his arm. "Be careful," she beseeched. She wished that he would look at her, but Michael merely shrugged off her hand then strode from the room. The moment he was gone Operations asked, "Think he can do it?" "He'll do it," Madeline replied. Of that she had no doubt. Michael was fighting some inner demon that was tormenting him. And she knew that he was losing the war, but that he was determined to win this battle. She only wondered at what cost. Michael went to his office to check on some information on his computer. Once he had done that he was ready to head out and meet with some of his personal contacts. But he found his way blocked by Walter. The old man studied Michael. "We need to talk," he said quietly. "Not now, Walter" Michael countered, attempting to slip past him. "Right now," Walter insisted, pressing his palm against Michael's chest and pushing the young man back into the room. He didn't stop pushing until Michael's back hit the wall. That the operative could kill him with his bare hands didn't concern Walter. It was time for both of them to face reality. Michael allowed Walter to get in his face, but only because he felt it would be easier. "I have to go," he explained. "I have to fix my mistake." Michael knew that Walter was aware of the book. Walter nodded. "That's why I'm here, Michael," he said firmly. "To fix my mistake." "What do you mean?" Michael queried, with a touch of curiosity. "About Nikita," Walter began, but he broke off when Michael shook his head and tried to push past him. "You're going to listen to me!" Walter shouted, shoving Michael back with both hands, then he grabbed a handful of thick, brown hair and locked eyes with the younger man. When Michael held his gaze, Walter lowered his voice and continued. "I stopped blaming you for Nikita's death a long time ago, Michael," he said softly, and with regret. "I know that you didn't want her to die. I know that you were following orders. If I had stopped you, Nikita would still be dead. Section would have cancelled her, and the rest of us, the moment we returned. I knew that then, but I couldn't get past it." Michael took a deep breath, released it, then said, "What is your point?" His tone was cold, his eyes blank. Walter felt anger ripple through him. He was angry at Section for making Michael doubt his own humanity. For turning a warm, loving, giving young man into a machine. "It's time for you to forgive yourself, Michael," he beseeched. "Let Nikita go." "Your wasting your breath, Walter," Michael whispered. "I don't care about what happened. Nikita is gone, just like all the others..." Michael broke off as he realized that he had been about to say that she was gone like all the others he had cared about. But he wouldn't go there. "I'm not gonna let you die too, Michael," Walter hissed. He knew that Michael had never been concerned about his own life. He lived because it was a way to punish himself. Death would let him off the hook. But Walter also realized that Michael had passed the point of caring either way. Michael let a smile curve his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed Walter away from him with gentle, but firm, hands. "Don't you get it," he countered, softly. "I'm already dead." With that, Michael stepped passed Walter and left the office. Walter found himself blinking back tears of frustration as he listened to the echo of Michael's footsteps down the hall. Opertations and Madeline were in the middle of a meeting when Michael entered the conference room. The head of Section glanced up in irritation. "What is it?" he barked. Without a word Michael stepped forward and placed a CD in a dark case on the table, and used two fingers to slide it towards Operations. Madeline realized what it was immediately. So did Operations. The gray-haired man let a smile curve his lips. "You got the book," he stated. "Yes," Michael replied. He felt Madeline's intense gaze and ignored it. "Anything else?" he asked. "I realize that you retrieved the book on what could, conceivably, be called your own time," Operations drawled, as he stepped around the table to confront the younger man. "But I want a full debriefing, Michael. Is that understood?" Operations was curious to know how Michael was able to retrieve the book from a Legion agent in less than twenty-four hours, and on his own. Michael nodded. "Understood." He turned to go but stopped when Madeline spoke his name. "Yes?" he queried. She moved to stand beside him, her eyes searching his face. Madeline could see that Michael was extremely pale, and his eyes were glassy. "Are you all right?" she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. But Michael surprised her. He didn't respond. Instead he collapsed at her feet. "Call MedLab," Madeline ordered, but Operations was already on the phone. She knelt beside Michael and ran her hands beneath his coat. She felt warm wetness and drew back her hand. Her fingers were stained with blood. Madeline was sitting beside Michael's bed when his eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him and stood up. The fingers of one hand brushed damp curls off his forehead. "Welcome back," she offered in greeting. "How long?" Michael asked as he shifted in the bed. The pain that stabbed in his side he easily ignored, the restraints on his wrists surprised him. "Two days," Madeline replied. "You developed an infection. You still have a fever, but it's lowgrade now. Why didn't you wear a vest?" Michael met and held her intense gaze. "There wasn't time," he answered. "I made some phone calls and met with someone who had intel on the agent with the book. I had to move fast." Madeline shook her head. "Not good enough, Michael. You're always prepared." "It's the truth," Michael countered in his defense. "The truth you want to believe? Or the truth you think I want to hear?" Madeline countered. She let her fingertips brush across his cheek. Dark stubble shadowed Michael's face. It was surprisingly soft and felt pleasant against her skin. Most men looked older with stubble, but Michael looked surprisingly younger. And vulnerable. Michael didn't respond to Madeline's question for a moment. He was aware of her caress which was meant to be motherly, he supposed, but he felt nothing. There was no comfort to be gained from Madeline. Nothing that could warm his soul. Finally he answered her. "No matter what I say, you'll believe what you want," Michael whispered. "So it doesn't really matter what I believe." Madeline sighed and pulled her hand away. Michael was very good at protecting himself from her probing. But she had more questions to fire at him. "Do you want to die?" "What I want doesn't matter either," Michael shot back. He closed his eyes feeling weary of this game. And that was all it was. Just another game. "It matters to me," Madeline countered, and she meant it. Michael could almost believe her, but he really care. "I'm expendable, Madeline," he stated, without regret. "Just a number like everyone else." Madeline felt a twinge of regret to know that Michael believed that. Not that Section had ever given him a reason to believe otherwise. Whatever lies, abuse and manipulations Nikita believed she had suffered at their hands, it had been ten times worse for Michael. "Do you blame yourself for Nikita's death?" It was a question that Madeline had long been wanting to ask. For she was the one who had sentenced Nikita to die. "I don't know," Michael answered, honestly. The secret of Nikita's *death* not withstanding, Michael felt that he had killed her long ago. He had cancelled her soul. "I'm sorry," Madeline replied as she watched Michael pull at the restraints, then reached for his hand. "They stay," she said firmly . "Why?" MIchael asked, then he smiled. "Don't you trust me?" "I know you, Michael," she replied. But it wasn't exactly the truth. "You need to rest. If I remove the restraints you'll leave MedLab." Michael locked eyes with her and said, "I'll rest." It was a plea to be released. It was also a lie and they both knew it. Madeline bent and brushed a kiss across his forehead. "Get some sleep," she said softly, then she turned and left the room. "Yes, Madeline," Michael whispered, the moment she was gone. "I want to die." But he knew that life would continue to be his punishment, and a self-inflicted one at that. Michael closed his eyes and let darkness claim him. But within the darkness he found the light. And her name was Nikita. THE END BACK TO AUTHOR'S S-T LFN STORYBOARD ARCHIVES MAIN PAGE LFN LINKS PAGE Send suggestions or comments to Shelly