Adult Themes

The nightmares had started six weeks ago. Michael had tried to pretend they didn't effect him, but he couldn't hide the fact that he hadn't been able to sleep. Not from Madeline's sharp eyes. She cornered him as he entered Section one. He was supposed to be lecturing two newcomers, but she told him she had rescheduled for him and that they needed to talk. One look at her face and Michael knew she intended to profile him. He hated that with a passion.

Madeline watched Michael's face as they walked down the hallway. He was very pale and intense. She could tell by the shadows beneath his eyes that he wasn't sleeping. Not that it seemed to have any negative effect on him. Michael was as sharp as ever, perhaps even more so, on his assignments. But she new him well. If he thought his performance would jeapordize lives, Michael would remove himself.

"Have a seat," Madeline invited, as she led Michael into the main chamber. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was still standing. A smile curved Madeline's lips as she sat down on the couch and patted the space beside her. "Please sit, Michael," she requested, letting her tone convey her words as an order. When he had obeyed she said, "What are you thinking right now?"

"That I would prefer to be anywhere else," Michael replied, his voice as soft spoken as always, despite his bluntness.

Madeline smiled again and it was genuine. Michael had always been a challenge when it came to the psychological games she played with the operatives. He knew what to say, and how to say it. He knew when he was being tested and he learned his lesson when he was caught off guard. Michael never made the same mistake twice. "I'm worried about you," Madeline said. And it was the simple truth. Michael was special to her, in a way that she would never reveal to him. Not ever.

Michael closed his eyes and willed himself not to lose his focus. Since he no longer slept and the dreams could not haunt his subconscious mind, they had taken to attacking him in flashes while he was awake. Quick silver visions that left him shaken. He couldn't afford to let that happen now, not in front of Madeline. So Michael concentrated on his breathing. Feeling the breath as it filled his lungs and exhaling it slowly. When he had achieved a balance, he opened his eyes and met Madeline's searching gaze. "I'm all right," he said.

"We both know that's not true," Madeline countered, the softness of her voice matching his. She had always loved the sensuality of Michael's softly accented voice. In the past they had read poetry together and he made the words sound like a beautiful melody. But that had been in a time long ago...or so it seemed. Sometimes Madeline forgot how young Michael was. Only twenty-six. At times he seemed like a very old man. Not in years but in wisdom. And she knew that he had suffered deep emotional pain and sorrow, had known great tragedy and physical strife such as most men had never known and would never know, not in several lifetimes. "I just want to help you, Michael," she said. "Tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing to tell," Michael replied. Her invitation was tempting, but he knew better than to accept. He stood up. "What I need, Madeline, I can't have. It's that simple." Michael turned to head for the door but stopped when he felt a hand on his arm.

Madeline pulled him back around to face her. "What do you need, Michael?" Even as she asked the question, she wondered if she didn't already know the answer.

Michael thought carefully as to whether or not he should tell the truth. Then he shrugged and replied, "I need answers."

"I don't understand," Madeline admitted. She was curious for she had expected him to say that he needed his freedom. They all needed that, became desperate for it even, at one time or another.

"That makes two of us," Michael replied. A half smile curved his lips for he knew that he had truly surprised Madeline, and that was not easy to do. "May I go now?" he asked, feeling weary to the bone.

Madeline shook her head. "We both know that you're skating on thin ice, Michael. Pretty soon it's going to crack, then you'll fall through."

He found himself smiling. "Maybe I'll drown," he whispered. Then he turned and walked away.

To Madeline's surprise, she let him go.

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

Nikita stood at the bar watching Michael. He was dancing with a beatiful woman with fiery auburn hair, but Nikita barely noticed her. She was enchanted by Michael. He looked more exotic than she was used to seeing him. Gone was his characteristic black. Tonight Michael was dressed in cream colored trousers, a cream colored, sleeveless t-shirt and a sapphire blue blazer. He looked beautiful, but that was nothing new. Every woman in the club was watching him...wanting him. And Michael was oblivious to them. He saw only the woman before him.

As they moved around the dance floor, Michael smiled at the woman he held so close. Her name was Rachel Weston. She was forty years old but looked thirty. She was wealthy and powerful and had a dangerous secret. Rachel knew the whereabouts of a CD that contained information about a computer virus that could wipe out the defense network for the US government. Her intent was to sell it to the highest, foreign, bidder. If she did so, the United States would be brought to it's knees in a heartbeat. It was Michael's job to get the information from her. Nikita was his back up, and Birkhoff and a team were in a van close by. Michael was wired so that everyone knew what was going on.

Watching Michael seduce Rachel Weston was proving to be difficult for Nikita. She was usually the one doing the seducing, while Michael watched over her. This time the shoe was on the other foot and she wasn't sure she liked it. Still, she was impressed with him, he made it look so easy. Right from the moment Michael had entered the club, Rachel Weston had been hooked. Now he was simply reeling her in. Nikita listened as Rachel asked Michael if he was involved with anyone. He laughed and told her the only woman that mattered to him was the one he was holding. Nikita grimaced.

Michael knew what Rachel was leading up to. She wanted to sleep with him. If that's what it took to get the information he needed, then that was what he was expected to do. "It's getting late," he said, smiling. It was his way of letting her know he was interested. Rachel kissed him and he kissed her back, she slid one hand between them to caress him then whispered, "I have to make a phone call. Meet me by the door. We'll take my car." And then she was gone. Michael spoke softly, "Did you get that, Nikita?"

"Got it," she replied, already heading for the door. She would wait outside until they left then follow. As would the van.

Moving to the exit, Michael waited patiently. A moment later Rachel returned and her face was flushed, her eyes flashing. She was furious. "What's wrong?" Michael asked, pretending concern.

She managed to smile at him. She wanted him more than ever, but that would have to wait. Digging into her purse she handed over a card. "Call me tomorrow," she said. "I have to cancel tonight."

Michael nodded. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No." Rachel tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him as if she were hungry and he was a feast. "Let's just say that I have a headache," she whispered against his lips, then she was gone.

Nikita saw her leave. When Rachel got in her car, the van followed her, discreetly. Nikita went to the car Michael had driven in and waited for him. "What do you think happened?" she asked, when he joined her.

"Bad news," Michael replied. He tossed Nikita the keys. "You drive."

"Cool." Nikita grinned as she slid behind the wheel of the silver-blue Ferrari. She glanced over at Michael and saw that he looked pale. "You all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm fine. Let's go. Operations will be waiting to hear from us."

Nikita shrugged. "Not much to tell him," she countered, then she pulled away from the curb. She had driven maybe ten miles, and was enjoying herself. She sang along to the radio, since Michael seem disinclined to talk. Michael wasn't one for talking, and Nikita had long ago accepted that.

"Pull over!" he hissed at her, suddenly.

"What?" Nikita hit the brakes, surprised. She watched as Michael pushed open his door and ran over to the far side of the road. She watched him bend over and realized that he was retching. She threw the car into park and got out to join him. "Michael?"

He couldn't answer her, for his body shook with spasms. Almost five minutes passed before they stopped. He felt Nikita's hands rubbing his shoulders. They moved to his face as he turned away and stumbled back a few paces.

Nikita had never seen Michael show weakness, but it was beyond his control now, and it frightened. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital?" she said.

"NO!" Michael spit out the word and glared at her. "I'm fine, Nikita. We have to go." He shook off her hands and returned to the car. There was a bottle of springwater under the seat and Michael used it to rinse his mouth out. Then he took a pack of gum from his inside jacket pocket and popped a piece in his mouth. Then he got back in the car.

"Okay Michael," Nikita said, as she slipped behind the wheel once more. They drove the rest of the way back to section one in total silence.

*~*

Operations and Madeline were waiting for them. Michael filled them in quickly and concisely. He told them that Birkhoff was following Rachel Weston in the van after she had made a phone call. That he didn't have details about the, but that he had Rachel's number and that she wanted him to call her tomorrow.

Operations smiled. "I take it then that she's interested in you?"

Nikita responded to the question. "Like he was catnip."

"Good. Then by this time tomorrow, Michael, you should be in her bed," Ops said, bluntly.

Michael grimaced. "Wouldn't it be more to our advantage to grab her and bring her here for questioning?"

Operations glared at him. "It would be more effective and certainly more timely," he allowed. "But Rachel Weston is a rich and powerful woman. There would be too many questions asked if she were to...disappear. And we have been asked to be discreet about this. Understand?"

"Of course," Michael replied. He knew better than to ask any questions.

Nikita knew better as well, but it didn't stop her. "Michael's right. We should--"

"NIKITA!" Michael cut her off, his eyes burning into hers. He looked at Ops and apologized. "I'm sorry. Is there anything else?"

Operations shook his head. "No," he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Madeline had been silent during the entire exchange, but now she turned to Nikita and said, "You look tired. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

Nikita knew that it was not an order, but a request. She nodded, but paused to touch Michael's arm and ask, "Are you feeling better?"

"Goodnight, Nikita," Michael replied, then he turned away and strode off down the hall.

"What was that about?" Madeline inquired. "What Michael not feeling well?"

Nikita shrugged. "On the drive back here I had to pull over. He threw up on the side of the road."

Madeline was concerned, but didn't let it show. "I see," she replied, offering a smile. "Good night, Nikita. I'll see you in the morning." And with that Madeline glided off, following in Michael's wake.

*~*

Michael was hanging up his jacket when Madeline entered the room. He felt her eyes burning into his back and said, "Did you want something, Madeline?"

"I was thinking that perhaps you should go to medlab for a physical, Michael," she replied, moving to stand beside the desk.

"Nikita told you that I was sick," Michael guessed, turning to face her. "I'm fine."

Madeline smiled at him, but worry shimmered in her dark eyes. "Do you remember when we used to drink cappuccino and read poetry together?"

Michael found his own lips curving into a smile at her words. "It seems like a hundred years ago," he whispered.

"Why did we ever stop?" she countered, her eyes locked on his beautiful face.

"Madeline." Michael said only that, for they both knew why.

She changed directions. "We should do it again sometime."

Michael shook his head as shadows danced in his crystal-blue eyes. "We can't ever go back," he said softly.

"Sometimes we have to," Madeline replied, even as she stood up and walked towards the door.

"Just one more unanswered question," Michael whispered to himself as he watched her go. For he sensed that Madeline's words were a foreshadowing of what was to come. And he already knew he didn't want to go there.

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

Michael didn't believe in luck, but on this night luck was with him. He had called Rachel and she had asked him to come over to her penthouse suite.

He was there now. Rachel had candlelight, soft music and champagne waiting for him in her bedroom. They were swaying to the music and kissing, even as Rachel's hands were busy unbuttoning Michael's shirt. His jacket was already lying on the floor. She had just begun to slide the blue silk off his shoulders when the phone rang.

Rachel huffed with frustration, but she smiled at Michael as she bid him to hold on. She grabbed the cordless from the bed stand and answered. "Hello." There was a pause, then she said, "I have it with me. I don't let it out of my sight."

Michael was a little surprised that she was talking in front of him and he pretended a great interest in his champagne, but he noticed that Rachel's eyes glanced over at her purse, when she mentioned not letting *it* out of her sight. He continued to watch and listen, without being obvious.

"I'll be there at ten," Rachel said to the person on the other end of the line. "Same place." With that she hung up and put down the phone. Then she glided back over to Michael and kissed him. "Sorry," Rachel apologized.

"Where were we?" Michael countered, a sensual smile curving his lips.

Rachel sighed, then pulled away from him. "I have a little surprise for you," she purred. "Be right back." And so saying she headed for the bathroom and closed the door.

Michael wasted no time in going to her purse. He smiled when he pulled out the CD...it was almost too easy. He replaced it with a blank from his jacket pocket, then poured them both full glasses of champagne. Michael tapped a white powder into Rachel's glass. A moment later she stepped out of the bathroom and he was waiting for her. She was wearing a black, lace teddy and a sexy smile. "You look beautiful," Michael told her, moving forward to offer her a glass of the bubbly champagne.

"So do you," Rachel replied. She accepted the glass and made a toast, then she drained it and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She took two steps towards Michael....he caught her as she collapsed.

After laying Rachel on the bed, Michael slipped his jacket back on and said, "Return to base."

Nikita was in the van. "You got it," she countered.

"I've got it," Michael replied.

"We're on our way," Nikita told him. A smile lit her face for she was pleased at the fact that Michael hadn't bedded Rachel. Why that mattered so much, she wouldn't allow herself to think about. Nikita looked at Birkhoff. "You heard the man, let's go."

*~*

Madeline and Ops were waiting in the conference room, chatting quietly, when Michael came in. He placed the CD on the table.

Operations looked at it, then at Michael. "Nice work," he said. "I didn't expect it to be so easy."

"I got lucky," Michael replied, his eyes darting over to Madeline.

She smiled, for she knew how Michael felt about luck. But the smile quickly faded as she watched him grow pale and sway on his feet. "What's wrong, Michael?" she asked.

He couldn't answer her. A wave of dizziness washed over Michael and then the images hit him. There was the soft voice, then a river of blood. He saw himself tied to a bed, pulling at the bindings on his wrists until they bled. He felt a flash of pain then the voice again. Now a different one...a child's cry. His own voice...screaming. Then laughter...cold and dark. Then there was the touch of a soft hand, and a blinding flash of light. No more darkness...only light. Pain...but then it was gone. That soft voice......

Michael gasped and his knees buckled. Madeline caught him and made him sit down. She listened to his ragged breathing. "It's all right, Michael," she said softly. "It's all right." But her eyes mirrored concern and were shaded black as she turned to look at Operations.

His eyes bore into hers, asking a silent question. When she nodded, he hit the intercom button and spoke two words, "Code eleven."

"What?" Operation's voice penetrated the fog that clouded Michael's thoughts. The images had faded and he turned to glare at older man "What are you doing?" he demanded, for he was fully aware of what code eleven meant.

Just then four men, armed with stun guns, entered the room. Operations nodded to them. "Take Michael to the private," he ordered. "I want him sedated and in restraints."

Michael jumped to his feet and was ready to do battle. But Madeline stepped in front of him. Michael glared at her.

Madeline didn't look away. She saw the pain in Michael's blue eyes as well as the accusation, and she accepted it. "Don't, Michael," she said, shaking her head.

"What have I done?" he challenged. This wouldn't be his first time in the private room, and he didn't want to go back there. He wasn't even sure what it was that he was so afraid of, but Michael felt absolute terror wash over him. It made him shake and he fought to control it.

"You've done nothing wrong," Madeline told him, even as she reached out to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. "Please, Michael," she beseeched. "Trust me."

He dropped his defensive posture at once and nodded. When two of the men stepped forward and grabbed his arms, Michael allowed them to lead him away.

Madeline looked over at Operations...her eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall. They weren't even for Michael so much as for herself.

Operations said not a word. He shook his head and left the room.

*~*

Nikita found Birkhoff, he was playing computer games...or so she thought. "Have you seen Michael?" she asked, and was surprised when Birkhoff's fingers faltered over the keyboard.

The young man sighed and said, "Michael is...sick."

"Oh...so he's in Med lab?" Nikita queried. She was remembering how Michael had thrown up and was relating his illness to that.

"No," Birkhoff said, his eyes locking with Nikita's. "Don't ask," he warned her. Just like he always did. Not that she would listen.

Nikita felt her stomach lurch. "I'm going to find Madeline," she said, turning to stride off.

Birkhoff watched her go. He didn't bother to tell her that Madeline was not available Nikita seemed to need to find things out on her own....the hard way. He turned his attention back to his computer screen and tried not to think about anything but the game.

*~*

Michael was lying in a bed. In the Private room. The walls were painted pale blue. There was soft lighting and curtains with a flowered pattern covering the barred windows. There was a *homey* feeling to the room, not so sterilized as the rest of Section one. Not that Michael took any notice of it. He was unsconcious. His wrists were secured with padded restraints and an IV needle was taped to the back of his left hand.

Madeline stood beside the bed, the fingers of one hand combing through Michael's hair in a soothing caress that he couldn't even feel. She stared at his beautiful face and thought he looked impossibly young, and far too innocent to have suffered as he had. Michael's pain showed in his eyes, not in his face.

Operations came in, stepping through a regular door, one on hinges. He closed it behind him and waited. When Madeline moved to join him he asked, "So...what do we do now?"

There was a long moment of silence. She stared at Michael then she turned to Ops. "We let him remember," she said softly, then she quietly left the room.

"Forgive me, Michael," Ops whispered. Then he turned and walked away. But he didn't go alone, for the souls of those long dead went with him.

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

Nikita was worried. Three days had passed since Birkhoff had told her that Michael was sick. He was conspicously absent, as was Madeline. So Nikita went to her second, favorite, source of information...Walter. He was soddering something and in deep concentration, so Nikita waited, just inside the doorway. The moment he was done she asked, "Do you know where Michael is?"

Walter sighed. He had known that Nikita would come to him and he had been dreading it. "Michael is sick," he replied.

"That's what Birkhoff said, so why isn't he in Med Lab?" Nikita shot back.

"I don't know, sweetie," Walter replied. He turned to face Nikita with a smile. "Don't you worry. Michael is strong."

Nikita was very worried now. She knew that Walter was extremely fond of Michael. They all were. Everyone loved Michael. "Tell me what's wrong?" Nikita begged.

Walter couldn't meet her beautiful gaze, so he turned back to study the circuit board he had been working on. "Sugar.." he began, only to have Nikita cut him off.

"You know what's going on, Walter!" she challenged him, moving so that she could see his face. "Please...tell me. Is Michael all right?"

"I told you, Michael is strong," Walter countered. He met Nikita's gaze only for a moment, long enough for his eyes to plead with her not to go there.

She didn't listen. "What does that mean....he's strong?" she queried.

Heaving a heartfelt sigh of frustration, Walter answered Nikita. "Michael is a survivor, sugar. He'll be all right."

"Then...you do know what's wrong?" Nikita shot back, her eyes flashing. She was ready to push Walter, until he told her, but an operative was suddenly standing in the doorway.

She looked at Nikita and said, "Operations wants to see you." Then she was gone.

Nikita glared at Walter. "I'll be back!" she hissed, then she turned and strode off.

Walter went back to his work, but he couldn't concentrate. He was remembering back almost seven years ago when he had first met Michael. As beautiful as an angel, smart as a whip and sharp as a tack...that was how Walter had thought of him then. Michael was still the same now...only one difference. Innocence had glowed from the eyes of the nineteen year old Michael, and hope was something that the *boy* had still believed in. The man that Michael was now was no longer innocent...and hope had died on one fateful night, six years ago.

*~*

Nikita stood before Ops, her eyes flashing sparks at him. She had demanded to know about Michael. Operations had merely stared at her for a long moment then said, "Michael is temporarily out of commision." Then he had dismissed her.

"Out of commision?" Nikita repeated. She shook her head. "Is that another term for CANCELLED, that I don't know about?"

Operation's locked eyes with the beautiful, blond woman. To this day he questioned himself as to why he had listened to Michael and allowed her to live. She was like salt on an open wound to his psyche. "I said...out of commission," Ops repeated, firmly.

Nikita nodded. "What about Madeline? Where has she been?"

"You can go now, Nikita," Ops replied, and it was not a request, but an order.

"I'm going to find out," Nikita warned him, throwing caution to the wind.

Operations smiled, that slight curve of his lips that was a cold as ice. "Be my guest," he invited, then he turned away.

Nikita glared at his back for a moment, then she stormed out. Her intuition told her that Madeline was with Michael. Part of her was relieved, for she knew that the other woman was fond of Michael and she would watch over him. But another part of her felt a twinge...of jealousy.

*~*

Madeline was sitting beside Michael's bed. He was conscious now, had been for the past twenty-four hours. She had talked to him about the past. He had remained silent, listening. But now he spoke.

"What is the point of all this, Madeline?" Michael spoke with his usual softness, but his anxiety was betrayed by the way he pulled at his restraints. It was an unconscious gesture on his part. "What is it that you want me to remember?"

"Something that we've tried very hard to make you to forget," she replied, her eyes locked on Michael's face. She saw a flicker in his blue eyes but she couldn't decipher what it was.

A half smile curved Michael's lips. "I've waited six years for this day," he said.

Madeline frowned. She was surprised to hear him say that. "What do you mean?" she prompted.

"Around this time, every year, I have my physical and phsychological evaluation. A very complete and highly intensive work up," Michael replied, as he now watched Madeline's face.

"That's customary for all operatives," she replied. "Including myself."

Michael nodded. "Yes. But no one else gets an IV. I'm not a fool, Madeline."

She smiled at him. Michael never ceased to amaze her. Everyone else she could profile and categorize, even Nikita. But not Michael. "So...you knew."

"That you wanted me to forget something?" he countered. When Madeline nodded, he did too. "Yes..I knew."

"Why didn't you say something?" Madeline inquired, her curiosity piqued. "Ask questions?"

Michael almost laughed at that. "Why bother? Would I have gotten any answers?" He paused and ammended. "Would I have gotten the truth?" When Madeline simply stared at him without replying, Michael sighed then said, "Whatever it was you wanted me to forget, it had to be pretty bad. So...why would I want to remember? My only real question was why did you bother? Why didn't you simply cancel me?"

Madeline reached out and brushed her fingertips across his face. "You're very important to us, Michael," she said softly. And there was a world of meaning in her words.

"I can be replaced," he countered, bluntly. Michael knew the drill.

"Somehow...I don't think so," Madeline replied. Then she pulled her hand away and straightened in the chair. There was no more time for talk. It was time for Michael to remember. "I'm going to say a name. Tell me what it means to you."

Michael felt fear ripple through him, but he pushed it back and said, "I have one question first," he said.

Madeline was surprised. Michael never asked questions. "All right," she told him. "Ask." If she could, she would answer it for him. He deserved that much for what had been...and what would be.

"Why now?" Michael spoke in barely a whisper.

"Because it's time," Madeline replied, honestly. "Because you're strong enough."

Michael smiled then, and it was genuine. "I might surprise you," he countered, his eyes locked with Madeline's.

She held his gaze and smiled. "You always do," she whispered. Then she took a deep breath and said one word, "Carl."

The name rushed over Michael like a tidal wave and it felt as if he were drowning. All the images of his dreams slammed into him. The pain, the child's cry. Screams and a river of blood. A man's voice....more pain. Michael saw himself bound to a bed. Heard a child's cry. More blood...more pain. And then a face....a man's face. Carl. A flash of light...a child's cry....her face. An angel's face with a halo of blond hair. A gunshot....then tears of blood staining her sweet face. The light fading from those innocent eyes...then the man's face and his dark laughter. More pain...then his own scream. "NOOOOOO!"

"Michael." Madeline whispered his name. It had the desired effect. He fell silent. She picked up a syringe and fitted it into the IV. "I want you to sleep now," she said, smoothing back his hair.

He looked at her and whispered, "I hate you," as he blinked back tears.

Madeline nodded, watching his eyes close as the sedative took effect. When Michael's long lashes were fanning his cheeks she put her lips to his ear . "I know," she said softly, then she turned and left the room.

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

For three days, Madeline walked Michael through his nightmares. She made him tell her everything he remembered, then she guided him into fuller memories, until the picture was complete. While Michael slept, exhausted, Madeline sat beside him and remembered herself.

When Michael had first come to Section One, Madeline had been his first trainer. But then she had handed him over to Carl Vedder. Carl was very smart..perhaps too smart..only they hadn't realized that at the time. He had been with Section one for four years and was one of their best operatives. Carl had come to them after going to prison for killing his wife and fourteen year old son. He had been in the marines and head of a tactical team, so he already knew how to use weapons, was a black belt in Tai Kwan do and a born leader. Perfect for Section's use. And he had taken Michael under his wing.

At the time it had seemed a good match. But Carl had become obssessed with Michael, only no one had seen it. Not even Michael. No one had made the connection that Michael was the same age that Carl's son would have been. And Carl was too clever to let anyone see what was happening...until it was too late.

When Michael had been with section for a year, he was paired up with Carl for a very important mission. The mission had gone off smoothly. Operations was pleased with Michael and he and Carl were expected to come back in. Only Carl had lost it. Seventeen innocent people, in the office building that he and Michael were in, died in less than a minute by a lethal peppering of bullets from a sub machine gun. Carl's own gun, not one of Section's. But it hadn't stopped there. Michael had managed to protect a six year old girl, but Madeline believed that Carl had allowed it in order to control Michael. He had forced Michael and the girl outside and into the operation's van, after killing the four operatives inside. He made Michael drive them to a camp that he had, hidden in the woods. Once there he had tied Michael to the bed and locked the little girl in the closet.

Carl kidnapped Michael to both punish, and possess, him. What Section One hadn't known, until after the incident was over, was that Carl had killed his wife and son because they were going to leave him. His wife was taking Carl's son away from him because Carl had molested the boy. So now Carl looked at Michael as the son who tried to leave him. He didn't call Michael by his son's name, however. Nor did he see his black-haired, brown-eyed boy's face when he looked at Michael. But somehow, he made a connection between them and nothing Michael said penetrated Carl's determination to punish him. And the punishment was harsh. While from inside the closet the little girl screamed for her *mommy*, Carl raped Michael. All the while whispering that if Michael didn't behave, he would kill the little girl.

All of this Madeline learned, after putting Michael under hypnosis. He wouldn't have breathed a word of it to them otherwise. But that wasn't the end of it. After raping Michael, Carl took the little girl out of the closet and brought her to stand before him. With a smile on his face, Carl shot the little girl in the head while Michael watched, bound and helpless. Soon after, Section operatives found the cabin and went in, prepared to gun Carl down. They were to late. Carl was already dead on the floor and Michael stood over his body, holding Carl's gun in his hand.

Michael had been brought back to Section One. He was pale and quiet. He spoke only when spoken to and told the story in a soft, monosyllabic tone. He said nothing about the rape. They knew he had been bound because of his raw and bloody wrists. Operations had then ordered a code eleven and Michael had been taken to the private room. From that moment on, Madeline had taken over his care. It had been a long road to recovery. Michael had been in severe denial and suffered from horrible nightmares. Restraints had been neccessary but had only served to add to his trauma. That's when Madeline had suggested to Operations that they make Michael forget. She knew that cancellation was not an option, not untill they had tried everything else. One reason being that Operation's blamed himself for not knowing all the facts about Carl Vedder. The other reason being that Michael was Operation's nephew. The blood relation part was not the foremost reason for Operation's wanting Michael to live. His guilt was.

It took two months to bury Michael's memories and for the nightmares to stop. Madeline had gotten to know a part of Michael very well, even as she had mourned the loss of his innocence. Not that anyone who came to Section one was truly innocent. Michael had come to them as they others had, having gone to jail for murdering an undercover cop during a drug bust. Michael had been a street kid, and Madeline would have bet her life that he had never taken drugs. But that didn't matter to the court of law, or to the cops. Nor did it matter to Section One. So long as he did the job and did it well. Michael always did the job.

During his recovery, Michael and Madeline became....friends. After he returned to active status it had become a weekly ritual for her to go to his apartment on a sunday night, so long as he wasn't involved in a mission. and they would drink cappucino and read poetry. Michael had a deep love for books and particularly literature...be it poetry, classics or Shakespeare. It was a love that Madeline shared. It as also a ritual that they continued with for over a year, until the night that Michael kissed her. He had done it almost without realizing it and had pulled away and stared at her with eyes that smouldered with passion.

Madeline hadn't said a word, but Michael had know, by the look in her eyes, that he had stepped over the line. He had run out of his own apartment and the next day had avoided her at section. Madeline had finally cornered him and he had blurted out that he wouldn't be home on Sunday nights anymore, that he was seeing someone. Madeline had smiled at him, kissed his cheek, then walked away. It wasn't too long after that that Michael had met Simone.

And so now they had come full circle, in a sense. Back to the beginning, but Madelin knew that things would be much different this time. She sighed as she watched Michael stir in his sleep. This time Michael loved Nikita.

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

Nikita tossed and turned in her sleep. But then she quieted, as the images in her subconscious mind swirled into sensations. She was lying in Michael's arms. He was kissing and caressing her and she was touching him and kissing him back. Her hands gliding over his rock-hard muscles and tangling in his dark hair. He was whispering her name and she replied, "I love you, Michael," as she rolled him over onto his back. Nikita straddled his waist then pinned his wrists to the bed as she rained kisses over his face, neck and chest. He let her leash his strength and she had never felt more powerful. Nor so safe, or happy....or loved, than in that moment. She looked into his crystal-blue eyes and was lost.

But the moment was not to last. It slipped through Nikita's fingers and faded away as the persistant buzz of the alarm clock pulled her out of her dreams.

*~*

Michael was trapped in the nightmare. But this time he wasn't afraid of it. This time he watched...detached from himself and the pain. He was simply an observer.

All the while that Carl had punished Michael, his hot breath was in Michael's ear whispering that he would kill the little girl...Shana...if Michael disobeyed him. Carl said that he had to punish Michael for his betrayal, and to teach him a lesson. He would never allow Michael to leave him. Never!

And when it was over, it was not enough. Carl had laughed as he had pulled himself together, then he had gone over to the closet and dragged Shana out. The little girl was still weeping as Carl dragged her to stand beside the bed. Michael had stared into her pale eyes even as he watched Carl put his gun to her head. Michael had seen death in the other man's eyes. Frantically he had pulled at his bonds, rubbing off the skin of his wrists until they bled, freely. Michael had pleaded with Carl, begged him, offered his body and soul if Carl would only spare Shana.

But Carl had only laughed....then he pulled the trigger. Michael had screamed then, and not even realized it. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood that poured down Shana's face. She fell to the floor like a rag doll, as if her mind hadn't yet explained to her body that it was dead. Michael had stopped screaming, and there was only the sound of Carl's laughter. The light of innocence that Michael had been clinging to so desperately, blinked out. And in that moment his soul shaded to black. Michael had killed, because of Section one. Because he had too. Now he wanted to kill. Desired it... more than anything...as he stared at Carl Vedder's cold face.

Still laughing, Carl had kicked at Shana's body. Then he put down his gun and went into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he came back out, he had time only to blink before a bullet from his own gun slammed into his skull, right between his eyes. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Michael remembered, more clearly now than before, how operatives had burst into the cabin then. He was standing over Carl's body, and he remembered smiling. Then he hadn't smiled again....not for a long time. Not until the memories were gone and he and Madeline had become...friends. Michael smiled now, in his dreams, as he remembered the kiss. How foolish he had been. But that was the past...long ago. It couldn't hurt him any more. He wouldn't let it. Michael had learned how to shield himself against pain. Carefully, he buried...not the memories of what had happened but...the shadows and the pain. Michael buried his emotions. He considered it...a gift.

Madeline was watching Michael and she saw his body relax as he slipped out of the dream and into consciousness. When he opened his eyes, they were clear and focused. She smiled at him.

"Release me," he requested, softly.

"Welcome back, Michael," Madeline said, as she complied.

He watched her pull out the IV, then unhook the restraints. "When can I go back to work?" he asked.

Madeline locked eyes with Michael and was silent for a long moment. Then she stood up and moved to his other side to release the restraint. "Tomorrow," she said. Then she turned and left the room.

*~*

Operations studied Michael. The young man was sitting in the chair across from his desk, holding his gaze. He was perfectly calm, perfectly cool, perfectly....Michael. Ops was pleased. He also detected more of an edge to Michael, and he approved. Michael had always been sharp, but the events of the past two weeks had made him stronger. Operations smiled. "Madeline says that you're ready to resume active status, Michael. Do you agree?"

"I do." Michael didn't smile, didn't waste words or motion. He simply stated a fact.

"Good." Operations moved to the front of his desk and stared down at younger man. "There's a briefing in twenty minutes. Might as well jump back into the water, feet first."

Michael nodded, then stood up. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Operations smiled. "That's all." He turned away and picked up a file. But as Michael left the room, Ops was watching him.

*~*

Nikita was waiting for Michael in his little office. The moment he entered she threw her arms around him and hugged him to her for all she was worth. She could feel that he was thinner, but his strength was the same. Rock solid and warm, that was Michael. Nikita felt him hesitate, before his arms went around her as well. They stood holding each other for a long moment. Michael stepped back first. He looked at her then turned and went to sit behind his desk.

"I'm glad you're back," Nikita said, plopping down into the other chair. Her eyes twinkled as the devoured the sight of him. He was so beautiful...so exotic and sensual...that it took her breath away. She bit her lip then said, "I missed you." The words came from her heart.

"Thank you," Michael replied as he switched on the computer. "We have a briefing in fifteen minutes."

Nikita nodded. "I know. Where were you, Michael?" She decided to be blunt. Michael responded to that more readily than when she tried to beat around the bush. Of course, his answers were seldom direct. They were more like riddles that he expected her to solve.

"I was out of commission," he replied, his eyes on the flickering computer screen.

"Hmmmm." Nikita smiled. "Interesting phrase," she drawled. "What does that mean...exactly?"

Michael sighed, softly, then his eyes lifted to lock on Nikita's face. The corner of his mouth twitched, slightly. She was very beautiful. "I was...ill," he said.

Nikita studied him, intently. "I can see that you're thinner," she commented, and she was wise enough to let it go at that. Michael wasn't going to tell her what she wanted to know, so she wouldn't torture herself. It was enough that he was back...for now. She watched his nimble fingers fly over the keyboard. "Am I bothering you?" she asked.

"No." The word was out before Michael realized it. He smiled to himself but didn't let her see it. Nikita's presence was like a ray of sunlight. It warmed him and he was grateful for it. "You can stay if you like," Michael said, his eyes glancing over to her, briefly.

"Good," Nikita replied, a smile curving her lips. Then she fell silent, content to watch him work.