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. Madeline watched as Operations paced, back and forth, in front of her desk. He had been doing so for the past five minutes and it was starting to irritate her. But she didn't let it show, neither in her expression, nor her voice. "What do want me to say?" she beseeched. "I gave you my report. I stand by what I've told you." Operations heaved a sigh of frustration. He stopped pacing and turned to face Madeline, his eyes glittering like chips of ice. "I want you to tell me that you can fix Michael!" he hissed. "I want him back, Madeline." "So do I," she replied, softly, her own eyes turning dark with regret. "But from the moment we forced him to cancel Nikita, Michael has lost focus. He can't do the job. We don't have many options left." "I've put him in abeyance," Operations countered, once again resuming his pacing. "He knows it." Madeline nodded. "He does." She reasoned that it would be foolish of them to think he wouldn't. They didn't allow Michael out in the field, or running teams, even from Section. The young man was no fool. He new he was on borrowed time. What bothered Madeline was the fact that Michael didn't care. She knew that he would welcome cancellation. "It's a no win situation," Madeline commented, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes to shut out the sight of Operations' restless pacing. "If we send Michael out on another mission, I believe he won't come back." Operations nodded. "So he has a death wish. What about psyche reevaluation. You haven't tried that yet." "I think that it would be a temporary measure at best," Madeline replied, being blunt and honest. "Michael is a player. He would say and do all the right things, simply biding his time. Bottom line is, we've lost him." "Dammit!" Operations slammed one fist down on the top of Madeline's desk. "He was bad after he lost Simone, and his son, but once the grief passed, he became stronger. Better, and more efficient. Why can't he do that now." Shaking his head, Operations slumped into a nearby chair. "Michael was married to Simone. They were in love, they had a real relationship. Michael and Nikita...they didn't love each other," he stated, flatly. Madeline swallowed a sigh. "You don't know that. Nikita reached something in Michael that he believed was long dead. She touched his soul." Fingertips rubbing his temples, Operations laughed softly, but it was a cold, humorless, sound. His eyes locked on Madeline's face. "I want the truth," he demanded. "Will Michael get over this?" "I don't think so," Madeline replied. She watched as Operations winced. "We have to be realistic. Michael can't do the job. By rights...he should be --" "-- Cancelled!" Operations interjected, his pale eyes flashing. "I know." But he didn't want to do that. For more reasons than he cared to contemplate right now. Madeline could sympathize. She didn't want to lose Michael either. "So...what do you want to do?" she queried. But, before Operations could respond, Madeline was beeped. She pressed a button and said, "What is it?" Birkhoff answered her. "I have something that you and Operations need to see. ASAP," he told them. And his agitation was clearly heard in his voice. "We're on our way," Madeline replied. She glanced over at Operations as she rose to her feet. Then he took her arm and they headed for the door. Birkhoff played the digital message for them on his computer. It was a somewhat distorted image of a young, blond woman. She was sitting in a chair, her arms bound behind her. Her clothes were dirty, her hair matted, and blood ran down one side of her face. A man punched her in the gut and she cried out then gagged. Her breath became labored and wheezing. "What is your name?" the man who had hit her, asked. There was a long moment of silence, then a whisper. "Nikita..." The transmission ended and Birkhoff swivelled around in his chair. "That's it, except for the encrypted message, which I've downloaded for you." Birkhoff held out a mini-CD to Operations. The gray-haired man took it, then looked at Madeline. "In my office," he commanded, then he turned and strode off. Madeline was about to follow, when she felt a light touch on her arm. "What is it, Birkhoff?" she asked softly. "Do you...Is Nikita alive?" he questioned, his eyes shining with a hopefullness that he couldn't hide. "I don't know," Madeline replied, although a part of her hoped it was true. She smiled then stepped down from the platform. Operations was waiting for her. The encrypted message was from the person who had sent them the transmission. He was an old acquaintance of Operations and had owed him a favor. The tape was two days old. "Nikita is alive," Madeline commented, needing to hear the words out loud. "So it would seem," Operations allowed. He was pacing again and his eyes shimmered with white-fire. "The people who have her want to see Section destroyed," he declared, stating the obvious. His *friend* was a member of the terrorist faction, but had felt the need to repay his debt. Operations considered it to be paid-in-full. Madeline was silent for a moment, considering her words. "This may be what we've been hoping for," she countered, then she waited for a reaction. Operations glared at Madeline as if she had suddenly developed a second head. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Michael." The moment Madeline said the name, she saw the fire dim in Operations' eyes. She smiled, then explained. "I think we can get him back. Send him to rescue Nikita." Madeline knew that Michael would be the only one who could do the job. He would not fail Nikita in the way that she knew he believed he had failed Simone, and his son. "Rescue Nikita.." Operations repeated, shaking his head. "I want her cancelled, not rescued. If she talks, Section will be compromised." Madeline knew what was at risk, but she felt it neccessary to remind Operations of their earlier conversation. "If you want Michael back, then you send him after Nikita. If you cancel her, then cancel him as well. It's your choice." Operations did not like his options. He liked to make his own odds, but knew that sometimes it was better to go for the longshot. Turning to meet Madeline's dark gaze, he nodded. "Contact Michael and fill him in. He leaves in five hours." "Done," Madeline replied. She went to Operations and let one hand squeeze his shoulder, briefly. "You made the right choice," she assured him. "I hope so," he replied, wanting to believe her but unable to push away his doubts. Still, Operations had made his decision, and he would stand by it. Whatever the outcome. He nodded, then watched as Madeline glided out of the room. Michael stared at the transmission, his eyes glittering as he watched the man hit the woman, then the woman whisper her name. He felt Madeline's eyes upon him and it took a concentrated effort of will not to let his true feelings show. Michael's eyes were shuttered, his expression masked, as he turned to face the dark-haired woman. "Nikita is still alive," he whispered. Madeline realized that he was asking a question, rather than making a statement. "She is," Madeline confirmed. She could see the tension in Michael's body ease up somewhat at her words. "We know her location and who the people are holding her. They're connected to the group who kidnapped Stanley Shays." "Tyler's people," Michael replied. "Yes." Madeline moved out from behind her desk to confront Michael. "We want you to rescue Nikita. Bring her back here." Madeline saw a flicker of reaction in Michael's eyes, but it was quickly extinguished, so she was unable to identify it. "We can't risk an all out assault. So you'll go alone. In and out. Rescue Nikita and destroy the compound." Madeline paused and offered a smile. "Think you can do that?" Michael met, and held, her cool gaze. "I can do that," he whispered. "When do I leave?" Madeline held out his tactical disk. "In three hours," she replied. "See Walter, he has what you'll need." "Fine," Michael replied. "Is that all?" He needed to get out from under Madeline's piercing gaze. It seemed to burn into him, as if she were seeking the darkness of his soul. But he would not let her go there. "That's all," Madeline replied. Her smile faded as she watched Michael stride from the room. He should have been happy that Nikita was still alive, but a part of Madeline sensed that he filled with sorrow, and regret. As Michael walked down the corridor towards Walter's station, the image of Nikita, battered and bloody, flashed before him. A lone tear rolled down his face, and as Michael wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket, he whispered, "I'm sorry." ************ The first thing Michael did after leaving Madeline was go to his office and study the tactical. Then he changed into field gear: black leggings, heavy socks and boots. A sleeveless, black t-shirt with a formfitting, zippered, jacket over it, then his kevlar vest. After that he went to see Walter. The old man was practically bouncing off the walls as he handed over the guns and various other weaponry and devices that Michal would need. "It's true....Nikita's alive?" Walter questioned, his eyes locked on Michael's face. The young man's expression was blank, as were his eyes. Walter knew that he was in *machine mode*, but he also knew that Michael had withdrawn. "She's alive," Michael confirmed, as he slid a second hand gun into a holster strapped to his left thigh. But that was all he offered. "How?" Walter beseeched, his eyes shimmering and reflecting the million questions that he had. When the young operative didn't answer, he reached out and grab the strong arm. "Michael...we watched Nikita die in that building. How can she be alive?" Not that he wasn't thrilled by the news, Walter was simply confused. Michael locked eyes with the other man for a moment, then he stepped back, freeing his arm. "Doesn't matter how," he whispered. Then he checked his equipment. "Is this everything?" Walter nodded. "You're fully loaded, Michael. In and out, it's what you do best," Walter commented, as he moved out from behind his station to confront Michael. "You're going to bring Nikita home." It was more a statement, than a question, but Walter's eyes were locked on Michael's face. Waiting for a reaction, but the silver-green eyes remained shuttered. "Goodbye, Walter," Michael whispered. He didn't look at the other man as he turned and walked away. A cold chill rippled up Walter's spine as he watched Michael go. His *goodbye* had seemed so final, and a part of Walter wondered if the young operative would be coming back. As much as Walter wanted Nikita to return, he didn't want to lose Michael in the process. Shaking his head, Walter decided that he was just an old fool and he returned to his work. With a moan of pleasure, Nikita let her hands glide over Michael's bare chest. She had the muscles memorized, so her eyes were closed, then her fingers glided over his back and down lower still, to cup hard buttocks. She sighed as his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue sliipping into her mouth to taste her. Then she felt him lift her into his strong arms and lay her on the bed. As he filled her heat with his hardness, Nikita whispered his name. "Michael..." But a moment later she screamed as pain rippled through her and she felt blood flow down her face. It had only been a dream. Nikita sat in the room, alone. Her tormentors had given her a reprieve while they went off to eat and drink and no doubt plan more ways to torture her. She didn't think she could bear it much longer. Already she had confessed too much. Her name alone had meant she was weak. Not that they didn't already know that. They had grabbed her because they knew she was a Section operative. What they wanted from her was Section's location. Nikita was prepared to bite off her tongue before she gave them that. She had betrayed Section once before, during the War with Red Cell. It didn't matter that it had been part of Section's plan for her to do so. A part of Nikita questioned why she was being so loyal to Section. But she knew the answer. Michael. In the six months that she had been free, he had never left her thoughts. Even without the drugs and pain of torture, her dreams were filled with him. Of them together. Fantasies of what she would have wished for them. Remembering Michael's words in her apartment...'I wish things could be different'...Nikita wondered if he shared her dreams. Did he even dream, or was he tormented only by nightmares, as Red Cell had suggested? It didn't matter, Nikita reminded herself. She was going to die soon. She would never see Michael again. So she clung to the memories of him that she had stored away, as hot tears rolled down her face. Michael was in the east wing of the compound. He had already made his way through the west and south ends, planting explosives. Thanks to the schematics given to Operations by his friend, Michael knew where the guards were located, access areas for entry and exit, he also knew exactly where Nikita was being held. He was on his way to her now. As he crept along the catwalk, with the silent stealth of a shadow, a part of Michael hoped the Operations' informer would escape the explosion. Once Michael set the sequence in motion, there would be only two minutes of escape time. He had judged that to be sufficient, given Nikita's location and the nearest exit. So now he climbed down an attached, iron, ladder and snuck up on the first guard, efficiently snapping his neck. Michael hid the body then continued on. One minute later, another guard was dead. Michael hid this one as well, then moved forward. He planted two more explosives. The last guard was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper. Michael tossed a metal bar to his left. The guard leaped out of his chair, gun in hand, to investigate. A moment later he was dead. Michael took his keys and opened the door to the room. Nikita heard the door open and lifted her head. She was prepared for more torture. But the man in the doorway wasn't the enemy. Her lips moved. "Michael..." she breathed. "Shh..." Michael whispered as he moved towards Nikita. A moment later she was free, and in his arms. Michael allowed the embrace, but only for a moment. Then he cupped her face in his hands and said, "We have to go." "Right," Nikita replied, but even