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. David felt eyes upon him as he tried to concentrate on what Michael was telling them. They were on a very important mission. This was David's fourth time out since completing his two years of training, but it was his first time out with Michael. All the recruits at Section knew about Michael. They all feared and respected him. David had to admit that he was feeling more fear than anything else at the moment. It was important to him not to fail tonight. He couldn't even explain to himself why, for in his nearly forty-three years, he had certainly failed enough times in the past that he should be used to it by now. Heaving a sigh and feeling the eyes still upon him, David turned his head to see Nikita smiling at him. He tried to smile back, but couldn't quite work the muscles of his mouth. They twitched and he shook his head. Nikita could almost feel David's fear, and she knew that Michael was aware of it as well. She knew that he wouldn't let it interfere with their mission, and she had some concerns as to how he would react. So she tried to help by giving David a reassuring smile. But she could tell it wasn't working. Michael locked eyes with David, his own were cold and expressionless. "We have to get this witness and we'll only have one chance to do so. Remember that we need her alive. Everyone else is an acceptable loss. I want everyone in their place at their appointed times. Don't leave your position unless I tell you to. We can't afford any mistakes." MIchael's eyes narrowed at David. "Is everyone clear?" he questioned. And he received a chorus of assent from six of the team members. David couldn't seem to get his voice to work, so he nodded, and was relieved when Michael's gaze slid off him. He swallowed hard as he watched Michael move to the door and signalled for the others to fall out. Then he nearly jumped when a hand touched his arm. It was Nikita. "You'll be fine, David," she told him, hoping that she was telling the truth. "Just do as you've been told and everything will go smoothly." "Right," David replied, hearing the raspiness of his voice. He took a deep breath then followed her out of the van, feeling Michael's eyes burning into his back. Michael was the last out and he faced them all. His eyes rested upon them each in turn, lingering for a moment on Nikita. Then he whispered, "Go." David went, moving through darkness with his heartbeat pounding in his ears. ************* The witness they had come for was the wife of a Columbian drug lord. They lived in a heavily guarded, rather palatial, estate. She liked to go skinny dipping at midnight. Michael and Nikita were point and they made their way to the pool. After Michael took out the guards with tranq darts, Nikita grabbed the woman using duct tape to stop her screams and bind her hands. She wrapped an oversized towel around her then hustled her off, heading back towards the van. Michael provided cover for Nikita and the witness. All was going as planned. He ordered the other operatives to hold their positions until Nikita and the witness made it back to the van. There was always the chance of a patrol showing up unexpectedly. David heard Michael's orders, but when he saw Nikita and the witness nearing the van, he saw no reason not to step out of his hiding place. He wanted out of there, and back to the relative safety of Section One. What he didn't realize was that he was now in *line of sight* of two guards who were walking the perimeter. "David....shooters to your right!" Michael hissed. But he knew that the operative would be dead before he could respond, so he revealed his own location to divert attention. A third guard appeared behind Michael shooting him in the left arm. Michael shot one guard even as he was hit, dropped, rolled and took out the other two. All the while, David stood frozen to the spot. Until he heard Nikita in his com-unit yelling, "David...come in!" Then he turned and ran for the van. Nikita wasn't smiling as she pulled him inside. She had heard the shooting and was worried about Michael. To her relief, he entered the van a moment later. She saw that his eyes glittered and his face was a cold mask as he ordered the driver to *go*. Only then did Nikita see the blood staining his left arm. "You've been hit," she said, unneccessarily. But when she moved to take a look at him, Nikita saw Michael shake his head so she sat back down. He moved to stand before David, who was sitting in the far corner, shaking. "Why did you leave your post?" Michael questioned, his voice little more than a whisper, yet the words seem to echo in the heavy silence. Everyone was watching them. Even the witness. David swallowed hard, his throat dry, before answering. "I...I thought.." he began. "You're not here to think,' Michael interjected, and his eyes flashed silver-green sparks. "You're here to obey my commands. That's all." With that, Michael moved to the front of the van and slipped into the passenger's seat. Nikita went to David. She was angry at him herself. His actions could have gotten Michael killed, as well as himself. But she could sympathize with him, for all that. "It'll get easier...with time," she told him. There was nothing else she could say, and they both knew it. David lifted his head and locked eyes with her for a moment. But the compassion he saw in Nikita's crystal-blue gaze only made him feel worse. "Sure," he whispered, then he turned away. ************* Operations was waiting for them, Madeline at his side. "What happened?" Was the first question, heossed at Michael. The young operative didn't blink. "We got the witness," he replied. Nikita and another operative were behind him and the woman was between them. "Good," Operations drawled. His eyes lit upon Michael's bloody arm. "You all right?" he asked, his concern..moderately...genuine. Michael nodded. "I'm fine. Foolish mistake. Won't happen again." David heard this as he was about to own up to being the cause of the mistake, when Michael glared at him. He kept his mouth shut and faded into the background. Operations didn't miss the exchange, but neither did he comment on it. He locked eyes with Michael and said, "I expect a complete debriefing in Madeline's office when you get out of Medlab." "Of course," Michael replied. He moved off with Operations and Madeline right behind him. David felt his stomach twist into knots. He sought out Nikita and pulled her into a corner. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" he asked her, his eyes glazed with fear. Nikita looked at David, could see his fear, and wanted to reassure him. But instead she told him the truth. "I don't know." She reached out to squeeze his shoulder, then she headed off for her own debriefing. ************* David and Nikita were playing a computer game as a form of distraction, when Walter found them. The older man grinned, cheekily,at Nikita. "You look hot, sugar," he told her, eyeing Nikita's shapely legs as they were revealed by her black and gray plaid, mini-skirt. ""Stuff it, Walter," Nikita drawled, but she was smiling as she said it. "Bad news," Walter said, his own smile fading he turned to David. "Michael wants to see you in his office. Now." Walter had heard about the shooting, and knew that David was at fault. He felt sorry for the other man, but those were the breaks in Section. The knots in David's stomach twisted again and he felt himself break out into a sweat. Nikita saw him grow pale and she tried to reassure him. "It will be alright, David. Believe it or not, Michael isn't the enemy." Walter grunted. "That's what you think," he hissed, drawing one finger along his throat as if it were a knife blade. He was only having a little fun with David, so he was surprised when Nikita glared at him, then lobbed her purse hitting him in the chest. "Walter is only teasing," Nikita was quick to inform David, but given the expression on his face, she doubted he believed her. She watched him walk off with a heavy step, then she scowled at Walter. "Why did you do that?" she berated him. "I was just having a little fun," Walter countered in his own defense. Nikita sighed. "Yeah, well...David doesn't know Michael like we do" Walter's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sugar...since when did anyone know Michael?" With those parting words, Walter shuffled off, back to his station. ************* David entered Michael's office and came to a standstill, just inside the door. He cleared his throat then said, "You wanted to see me?" Michael stood at the window, staring out across the hallway. He didn't react to David's presence in anyway. He simply stood there. After a long moment of silence, that felt suffocating to David, he decided to speak his mind. "I...uh. Michael...I wanted to apologize for what happened. For your getting shot," David was quick to clarify. Not that it mattered, for Michael didn't appear to be listening to him. Still, he was determined to have his say. "I also wanted to thank you for...protecting me. You saved my life." For that, David was eternally grateful. Not that Section One was much of a life, but it was preferable to death in David's book. The mere thought of dying terrified him. "When in the field, never disobey my orders," Michael said, suddenly. His tone of voice was soft, but it resonated through the quiet in the room. He was still looking out the window, but attuned to David's presence. Michael could feel the other man's fear of him and he used it to make his point very clear. "I will not tolerate mistakes...especially stupid ones. Do you understand me?" "Oh yeah," David hissed. He was suddenly furious and he let it show. Michael's lips twitched, but his face was a mask, his eyes cold, when he turned to face the other man. "Do have a problem?" he inquired, rather facetiously. At least for him. David's fear receded, replaced by anger. "Yeah. I have a problem!" he shot back. He locked eyes with Michael as he suddenly developed a back bone. "I resent being reprimanded like a five year old!" he spat. "Why is that?" Michael as the question with genuine curiosity. "Well..for starters...I'm at least fifteen years older than you are," David replied. It irritated him to no end that Michael's face remained expressionless. A part of David wanted to slap him, just to get some sort of reaction. Michael knew that he was irritating David and it pleased him. "Your point being?" he countered, keeping his tone of voice equally neutral. It was in that moment that David realized that he was being tested and was failing...miserably. He felt himself deflate and he took a step back, shaking his head. "I guess I don't have one," he conceeded. "You have the capability to learn quickly," Michael told him. He felt compassion for the other man, but he didn't let it show. "You must also learn...well. And to obey." "Obey you?" David countered, feeling an ember of anger reignite, but quickly stomping it out. It would have no effect on Michael. "Or obey Section?" he questioned. Michael allowed a glimmer of a smile. "Is there a difference?" he shot back, watching the other man closely for a reaction. David shook his head, and felt a wave of sadness that he couldn't explain. "I guess not," he allowed. Then he sighed. "I'll do my best to remember that in the future." "See that you do," Michael whispered. He turned back to the window, dismissing David. As he watched him leave, Michael felt a twinge of...regret. ************* "How did it go?" Nikita asked, catching up to David as he headed out of Section. "I don't know," he admitted, ruefully. "Nikita...how well do you know Michael?" She smiled and shrugged. "As well as anyone can...I suppose." Nikita studied David for a moment, then asked, "Why?" He laughed softly. "Michael is....unique." David sighed and was silent for a moment as they walked. "Do you know why I'm here, Nikita?" When she shook her head, he explained. "I killed my wife and her *lover* when I caught them in our bed together. I had come home from work early...to surprise her. But I was the one who was surprised." "I'm sorry, David," Nikita said, offering a smile. "Me too," he allowed. "Now. But I wanted them dead and at the time...I enjoyed killing them." David sighed. "The interesting part of this story is the fact that I'm a clinical psychologist. I pride myself on understanding the human psyche, and on being able to control my own emotions...through understanding them." Nikita was surprised, but understanding began to dawn. "Hmmm...you must see Michael as the ultimate challenge." David nodded, but his eyes were shadowed. But not necessarily for the reasons you might think, Nikita." "Don't waste your time trying to analyze Michael," she advised. "He will never open up to you, David." Nikita knew that from experience. Painful experience. "Michael has been with Section a long time. He's as good as dead inside." "You couldn't be more wrong," David countered, almost fiercely. And he was a bit surprised at how defensive he felt. Or, perhaps, a better word was, protective. "Michael exerts an almost, suffocating, control over himself...and his emotions. It's a self-defense mechanism. He's protecting himself...and others." Nikita wasn't willing to buy that. "Protecting himself and others...from what?" she challenged. David shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I intend to find out. I can tell you this much, Nikita. In my professional, opinion...Michael feels more deeply than any of us. Including you." "Oh..." Nikita said, for she didn't know how else to respond. She watched David walk off, all the while absorbing his words. Long after he was out of sight, she whispered, "Good luck, David,", then she headed for home. ************ Once David had decided that he was going to get inside Michael's head, there was no stopping him. At least, there was no stopping his determination. As far as him making any progress was concerned, that was a bust. Michael kept him at arms length, that was until David came up with the perfect way to spend some time with him. He went to Michael's office, requesting his help on the shooting range. Michael directed David to Walter, but David was persistent. In the end, Michael gave in and agreed to give David some pointers. Once on the range, David requested that Michael shoot first, so that he could watch him. A part of him was chilled by how efficient the young man was, and how *dead on* accurate. Michael emptied a full clip into the heart of one target, the next clip right between the eyes of the cut out, and that one left handed. "I will never be that good," David remarked, letting his admiration show. Michael reloaded his gun, then offered it to the other man. "All it takes is practice," he said softly. "And focus." David shook his head. "It takes...skill," he countered. "I'm a good shot, but I'll never be a great one. I'll never be *great* at anything," he conceded as he turned to face the target, gun in hand. "Does that matter?" Michael questioned, his eyes locked on David's face. Michael was no fool. After the incident in the field, he had checked David's file. He knew that the man was a psychologist and, given the attempts he had been making the past two weeks to get close to him, Michael knew that David was trying to analyze him, in a professional capacity. Madeline was much better at it and only had limited success with him. But it amused Michael to play along. For now. Although, a part of him was intrigued by David. He wasn’t quite sure yet as to why. "It shouldn't matter, I know," David allowed, finding it interesting that Michael would ask that question. "I wouldn't matter to you," he said, his eyes searching Michael's. "You excel at everything you do." Michael offered a half-smile. "You put limits on yourself, David," he said softly. The older man shrugged. "It's good to know your limitations." "Yes," Michael allowed. "But they should be based on what you know you can achieve, not on what you think you are capable of." "That's very insightful, Michael," David replied, and he was duly impressed. For the young man was absolutely right and had obviously given the matter some thought. Some..serious...thought. "You do a lot of soul searching, don't you?" It was a probing question, and David knew it. But it was worth a shot. Michael turned away, his eyes studying the shredded targets, then glancing upward....briefly. "You can't search what doesn't exist," he said softly. Turning back to David, Michael's gaze glittered. His eyes were like chips of jade ice, luminous in his rather exotic face. He reached out, took his gun back, then walked away. David watched Michael go and felt like kicking himself. "Nice going," he fumed. "Now you're back to square one." With that, David stomped off. He didn't know that Nikita was watching him from the observation booth. Had been watching them both. ************* As they stood outside the interrogation room, David could feel sweat drip down his back. He was nervous as hell and still wondering what he was doing here. Why did Michael want his help? That was a question soon to be answered. Michael glanced over at David and could see the other man's anxiety. He offered a cold smile, then an explanation. "Inside the room is a couple. Maryanne and Jake Bellows. They've been married for fifteen years and have been working as mules for a man named Larson Weeks. We need to know who they deliver the *goods* to. You and I will play good cop, bad cop." "Let me guess," David interjected, "I'm the good cop?" "Go with what feels right," Michael replied. Then he reached for the door, pulled it open and gestured for David to precede him. Once inside, Michael closed the door, letting it ring shut, then he turned to face the couple. They were seated, side by side, their wrists cuffed to the arms of the chairs. Michael moved to stand before them. "Hello," he said, smiling. David stood against the wall, waiting to see what Michael would do. He was surprised by his greeting to the couple. It sounded almost...friendly. Michael was aware of David's eyes on him, as well as the frightened gaze of the woman...Maryanne. Her husband simply glared at him, trying to maintain a false bravado. Michael knew that they were both scared to death. "You work for a man named Larson Weeks," he said, his eyes locked on the woman's face. "We need to know who you deliver to." "Go to hell!" Jake Bellows shouted, spittle spotting his chin. "We ain't telling you nothin!" "Maryanne," Michael whispered her name as he moved behind her, one hand reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder. "No one wants to see you get hurt. All we want is the name of the man that Larson does business with. Tell me the name and you can go home." David watched the woman respond to Michael's touch and to the softness in his voice. She was being seduced by him without even realizing it. Amazing. Michael let his hand move from Maryanne's shoulder to cup her cheek. "Tell me the name and this will all be over with," he requested. Maryanne blinked back tears as she listened to the beautiful voice. The man it belonged to was beautiful as well. She had never seen anyone like him before. She could tell that he would never hurt her, but she didn't like this place and she wanted to go home. Her lips parted. "His name is --" "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Jake yelled, drowing out his wife's words. Only to earn himself a kick in head by the man in black. David blinked. Michael had kicked Jake so quickly and effortlessly that he could almost believe it hadn't happened, accept for the fact that Jake was unconscious now. David watched Michael crouch beside Maryanne's chair, drawing her attention off her husband and on to himself. He leaned in close to her, as if he were about to kiss her and David could see that she was enraptured of him. Maryanne saw no one but Michael. "Give me the name," Michael whispered. He felt Maryanne's breath against his lips as she gave him what he wanted. Michael smiled, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. He then stood up and walked to the door. He ushered David out. David shook his head. "You never needed me in there," he stated, bluntly. Michael looked at him, unblinking. "It's always good to have a back up," he replied. "Will she be cancelled?" David asked, blocking Michael's way when he would have walked off. "No," Michael said softly. He waited, for he knew that David had another question." The older man hesitated a moment before asking, "What about Jake?" Michael's lips twitched. His eyes looked over David's shoulder for a moment, then back to lock eyes with the other man. Without a word he turned on his heel and walked off. "What was that all about?" David questioned, out loud, for he was certain that Michael had a reason for bringing him into this. But, for the life of him, David couldn't figure out why. But he would. He realized that this was becoming like a chess game, and Michael was a master level player. Only David wasn't above cheating. ************* Two days later, David confronted Michael in his office. "Can we talk?" he requested, after marching in without knocking. Michael was working on his computer. He didn't look up as he asked, "Is there a problem?" "Not exactly," David admitted. He was reluctant to lie. Enough of that went on at Section as it was. "What is it?" Michael questioned, not letting his impatience show. He was working on a report that Operations wanted on his desk within the hour. so he didn't have time for more of David's psycho-babble. David decided to be direct. "I'm sure you've read my file, Michael. So you know that I was a clinical psychologist before coming to Section." Michael nodded. "I know. You haven't exactly been..subtle..about the fact that you want to get inside my head and see what makes me...tick?" "No...I guess I haven't been subtle," David allowed, a nervous laugh escaping him. He felt relieved that Michael seemed almost...amused. Almost. "Why?" Michael asked. David shrugged. "Why?" he repeated. He really wasn't prepared for that question. He thought about it for a moment then went for the truth, once again. "Because I want to help you, Michael." There..he'd said it. Now he waited for a reaction. There was a long moment of silence as Michael locked eyes with David. When the silence grew deafening, he spoke. "Help me." It was almost more of a statement than a question. "Yes...help you," David confirmed. "Section One is like a vampire, Michael. It sucks the blood and the soul out of its operatives. But you..." David paused, searching for the right words to describe what he felt, as well as what he intended. "You want to save what's left of my soul," Michael interjected. He almost read David's thoughts for they were written all over his face. The other man would make a lousy poker player. His own expression was neutral, his eyes cold. "You think I'm worth saving." David nodded. "Yes...I do." Michael stood up from his desk to face the other man. He smiled, but it held no warmth. "I'm not a part of the darkness, David," he said softly. "I am the darkness. A shadow who walks among the living. Sometimes they feel me....but they can't see me anymore. Soon...they won't see you either. Accept it." In his own way, Michael was offering a kindness. You're wrong, Michael," David countered, his eyes flashing a denial at what had been said. The younger man was so out of touch with his feelings that he didn't realize that, by his own words, he had just proven that he still had a soul. And David told him so. "You believe that you're dead inside, Michael. But you're not. You have the soul of a poet...and that gives me all the hope that I need." And, with that, David turned on his heel and left the office. Lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, Michael heaved a sigh then returned to his report. ************ The briefing was quick. Only Birkhoff, Michael, David, Operations and Madeline were present. Nikita would not be needed on this mission, so she was off working with a new recruit. The man who Maryanne Bellows had given up to Michael, was their target. His name was Clayton Saunders. He was rich, arrogant, smart and happened to possess a data chip that Section wanted. David didn't really listen to the details of why the chip was so important. He was more interested in watching Michael and analyzing his reactions. Michael was in *Mission mode* already. His postured was relaxed and he was using one leg to swing his chair from side to side, but he was totally attuned to what was being said. He didn't so much as look at Operations as he did the vid-screen, for it was there that the image of Saunders was reflected, as well as a few schematics. David could almost see Michael absorbing all the information that was given too him. Knew he would soak it all in like a sponge once he was given his data disc to study before they left. What David didn't know was that Michael was aware of being watched. The other thing that David was oblivious to was that Madeline was watching them both. Michael knew it. For a moment he thought of requesting another partner, but knew he would be refused, regardless of his argument. Madeline wanted David on this mission. It was a test. Michael hoped that David wouldn't fail it. Not because of Section, but because of David. But he pushed aside such thoughts to refocus on the mission. "How do we get in?" he asked. Operations grinned. "You're already *in*," he said. "You've both dealt yourselves into a highstakes poker game. Million dollar entry fee. Plane leaves for Las Vegas in an hour. The game is held in the private room of Saunders' Hotel casino." Operations looked at David for a moment, then his eyes fell on Michael. "Good luck," he offered, and it was sincere. Everyone filtered out of the room, but David caught Michael's arm. "I'm not a very good poker player," he confessed, feeling that it was necessary to do so. Michael almost smiled. "I know," he whispered, then he left the room. ************* They had been playing for over four hours. Michael was the big winner, and most of the other players were miffed, but impressed as well. Clayton Saunders was the exception. He was a sore loser and was bound and determined to clean Michael out. Everything about Michael irritated Clayton. The other man was everything he, himself, pretended to be. Michael was classy, elegant, sophisticated, charming, refined and gorgeous. He also seemed to be as rich as Clayton, and there was no doubt to the fact that he was a better poker player, or that he was catnip to woman. The four lovely ladies that were in the room to cater to the needs of the eight men who were playing the game, were falling all over themselves to gain Michael's attention. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to them. Another thing he did better than Clayton was hold his liquor. Clayton had watched Michael down eight shots of whiskey. And, in a childish attempt to get the other man drunk, he had challenged him to four rounds of rum chasers. Clayton knew he was wasted, but Michael showed no outward signs of being inebriated. David was as amazed by Michael's condition as Clayton Saunders was. He was drinking scotch and water, and had only had two of those. He knew his limitations well. David found himself watching Michael with more intensity than he was the game. Not that it mattered. On the plane ride over, Michael had explained that David was expected to lose. Knowing that had been a relief. Being in this room was wearing on David's nerves. He wished that he could borrow some of Michael's cool. But it was hard to relax when there were four, armed men in the room, keeping guard over them. It also didn't help to realize that they were on a mission and that failure was not an option. David leaned down on the pretense of scatching his leg, but it was to feel the gun strapped to his ankle. Saunders was fairly lax in his security. Once David and Michael had bought their way in to the game, they were considered a Non-risk. Course, it was obvious to David, that Clayton Saunders felt that by surrounding himself with armed guards, he was *safe*. David hoped that this *attitude* would be helpful to him and Michael on their quest. David was now simply biding time, waiting for Michael's signal. Saunders was becoming impatient. It didn't help that he was an obnoxious drunk and was being a pig as he openly fondled the woman who was sitting on his lap. The top half of her dress was pooled at her waist, so her big breasts were bared to all in the room and Saunders was slobbering kisses over them even as his other hand was busy at her crotch. David couldn't watch the display. He noticed that Michael seemed uneffected by it. He also found it interesting that the woman on Saunders' lap couldn't take her eyes off Michael. "Let's go for the gold," Clayton declared, his interest in the woman suddenly dimished. He pushed her off his lap and turned to lock eyes with Michael. "Let's play one hand....you and me," he challenged. Michael offered a half-smile, knowing that it would irritate the other man. "Fine," he replied, then he waited. Saunders' scowled then grabbed a new deck of cards, still sealed. He tossed them to David. The older man seemed...trustworthy. "You deal," he ordered, then he smirked at Michael. "How much you got?" "You name the stakes," Michael drawled. "I'll cover it." "Good." Saunders paused for a minute, considering. "Let's make it interesting. You own a computer cooperation, right?" At Michael's nod he continued. "I own a casino. I win, I get your company. You win, you get the casino. What do you say, Michael? Feeling.....lucky?" Michael locked eyes with Saunders, his own never wavering. He could see that for all his bravado, Clayton was sweating his offer. So Michael offered a genuine smile, then turned to look at David. "Deal," he said softly. David looked at Saunders, who nodded impatiently, then he broke the seal on the cards, shuffled them and dealt. He couldn't believe how calm Michael was, his eyes didn't even flicker as he glanced at his cards. David flinched when Michael announced, "I'll stay." Saunders, on the other hand, swallowed hard as he asked for two cards. When he saw them it was obvious, by his expression, that they were not what he had been hoping for. But he tried to keep face as he flipped them over. "Pair of jacks," he snarled. "Three of a kind," Michael replied, tossing his own cards over to reveal three sevens. "I guess the game is over," he declared softly, as he rose to his feet. "Why don't we go to your office?" he said to Saunders. "What for?" the other man countered, his eyes flashing. Michael smiled, but it was cold as ice. "To discuss the details of MY new casino," Michael replied, knowing that each word was like a knife twisting in Clayton Saunders' gut. But this whole event was to their advantage. They would now have easy access to Saunders' office, where the data chip was locked in the safe. Saunder stood up in a rage, his chair toppling over. "YOU CHEATED!" he screamed at Michael. One hand moved to his jacket pocket. David saw the motion and panicked. He reached for his gun then fired a warning shot into the ceiling. The moment he did it, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Saunders hadn't been reaching for a gun. David just now remembered that the file on him had said that Saunders never carried a weapon. He let other people do his killing for him. He had been reaching for his whiskey flask. But the guards had already reacted. They were about to shoot David, when Michael fired his own gun. He took out two then moved to shield the older operative. More guards entered the room, and Saunders waved them back. But he was smiling as he watched his men disarm Michael and David. He was still pissed at Michael, yet intrigued. The man knew how to use a gun. Clayton suddenly realized that there was alot more to Michael than he was aware of, and he intended to find out what it was. He also intended to get his Casino back. There were too many witnesses to the bet, and the hand, for him to back out, so he would simply ask Michael to give it back. Should be easy enough. The man would be looking for a bargaining chip to save his life. "I want them alive," he told his guards. "Take them to my suite and tie them up. I'll be there shortly." Clayton had some baser needs to take care of first. The adrenaline pump from the shooting had made him horny, so he grabbed the woman he had been fondling earlier and put her on the table. He was into her before everyone had left the room. ************* David tried to loosen the ropes that bound his wrists together behind him, but it was no use. Michael was sitting next to him, both of them in chairs, but the younger man was still as a statue. David gave up trying to free himself and sighed,. "Will Section come for us?" he asked. Michael was looking about, studying the room. His glance flicekered over David as he replied, "They'll attempt to retrieve the data chip." "In other words....we're on our own," David countered softly. "I messed up...again...and we'll both pay for it. I'm sorry, Michael," he said, and his regret was sincere. "It's not over yet," Michael replied, his tone chilly. "We're still alive." David snorted. "Meaning what?" They were tied up and helpless. Two guards, with weapons, were outside the room. There was no hope for escape. Michael let his eyes bore into David. "I don't give up," he whispered. "Interesting," David murmurred, in spite of himself. Michael hadn't said 'I don't give up easily,' as most people would he. He had declared, 'I don't give up.' Period. David found a sudden resurgence of hope. Just then the door to the suite opened and Saunders entered the room, followed by two guards. He glanced at David and scowled. The older man didn't impress him. But he smiled as he studied Michael. "Who are you?" Clayton asked, walking a circle around the two chairs. Michael smiled back. "You checked me out. You know who I am," he replied. He was aware of the fact that his calm demeanor and lack of fear irritated Saunders to no end. Michael wished that David had the ability to mask his fear as well. "You're not a simple businessman," Saunders replied. He came to stand in front of Michael. "I'd like to offer you a...partnership," he said. "I don't think so," Michael countered. "I don't need you." Saunders hand snaked out and he slapped Michael...hard. The other man didn't even flinch. Just smiled and stared back at him with his luminous green eyes. It gave Clayton the creeps. "Give me my casino back!" he ordered. Michael shook his head. "No." "FOOL!" Clayton shouted. "Do you know who I am?" He went to the closest guard and grabbed his gun. As a rule he didn't like doing his own dirty work, but he was determined to be the one to get a reaction out of Michael. Stomping over to David, Saunders' pressed the gun to the older man's temple. "You will me my Casino back," he snarled. "And you will become my partner. Or your friend dies." "Kill him," Michael whispered, his eyes never leaving Clayton's face. David felt his insides twist into a knot. He was going to die. Michael was going to let him die. He could see it in the silver-green gaze. But David didn't want to die. "Michael..." he whispered. "Shut up!" Michael hissed. "Kill him," He repeated to Clayton. "Please!" David begged. Tears rolled down his face, unbidden. "I don't want to die!" he sobbed. Michael glared at him. "You're already dead," he breathed. And, in that moment, he reacted. He had freed himself from the ropes and now he kicked David's chair over, removing him from the line of fire. Before the guards could react, Michael had grabbed Saunders' hand and used his gun to kill them. He then held the weapon trained on Clayton while he untied David. "Get the guns," he ordered the other operative. Saunders found himself shaking as Michael approached him. "What now?" he asked, with false bravado. "Now we go to MY safe and we get the data chip," Michael replied, a smile curving his lips. "My guards will be coming any minute," Saunders countered, even as he was pushed into the adjoining room. Michael's reference to now owning the Casino and everything in it had gone right over Clayton's head. Obediently he went into the office, over to the safe and opened it. Clayton didn't want to die. Michael was wearing a transmittor and was connected to Birkhoff and a team of operatives, who had been waiting in the van for his signal. David didn't know about them. That's what Michael had meant about Section attempting to retrieve the data chip should they fail. He knew that Saunders' guards had been taken out. They were home free. Or would be...soon. "Get the chip," Michael ordered David, once the safe was opened. David grabbed it then tossed it to MIchael. "Now what?" he asked. "Now we say goodbye," Michael replied, stepping back from Clayton and raising his gun so that it was pointed at the man's chest. He watched Saunders quiver before him, heard him pleading for his miseable life, but Michael was impervious to him. "What are you doing?" David demanded, moving to Michael's side. "You don't have to kill him. We got the chip." Michael was under orders to eliminate Saunders, but all he said was, "You're right. I don't have to kill him. You do." Michael held out the gun. David looked at it and shook his head. "No," he whispered. "I won't do it." "Kill him, or I'll kill you," Michael countered, his eyes cold. "You won't kill me," David replied, even as he felt his mouth go dry. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, but he held his ground. "You can't kill me, Michael," he declared. MIchael didn't blink as his finger began to pull back on the trigger. In that moment, David knew that he was wrong. Michael would kill him. He grabbed the gun, then wiped the blur of tears from his eyes as he fired two bullets into Clayton Saunders' chest. "Happy now?" he demanded, turning to glare at the younger man. Michael didn't answer. He took the gun from David and started to walk away. But then he stopped. Without looking back he said, "This isn't a game, David. But there are rules. Rule number one...Do the job." "What's rule number two?" David inquired, feeling morbidly curious. "Never forget rule number one," Michael replied, bluntly. He wasn't sure why he was telling David this. Why he felt the need to explain. But it was somehow important to him that the other man understand. David heaved a sigh. "And what if I do forget?" he challenged. A long moment of silence hung between the two men before Michael whispered, "You die." It was only as the echo of his words began to fade that Michael left the room. ************ Operations and Madeline were waiting for Michael and David when they returned to Section One. They had barely stepped out into the corridor when Operations was in Michael's face. David listened to the head of Section one read Michael the riot act with mounting anger. Everything that Operations was blaming Michael for had been David's fault. Yet Michael just stood there, eyes locked with Operations, unblinking, and took it. That pushed David over the edge. He found the courage to step forward and proclaim, "I'm the one you should be yelling at." "Really?" Operations didn't move, but his eyes flickered over to David. "I'm the one who screwed up everything, not Michael," David shot back, and he found that he wasn't the least bit intimidated by Operations' glacial stare. Operations smiled, but it lacked both warmth and humor. "Michael was in charge of the mission. It's his responsibility to see that you don't mess up. He failed. Therefore, it's his mess." Operations turned his attention back to Michael. "This isn't over. Debrief then I want you in my office. One hour." Michael nodded. "Of course." He turned and walked away, aware that Operations was on his heels. David watched them go then turned to Madeline, aware that she had been watching him throughout the exchange. "It's not fair," he stated, somewhat petulantly. "Life's not fair," she replied, smiling. "This is different," David insisted, wanting her to understand, even as he was trying to. "We got what you wanted...well...Michael did. Yet you punish him for it. Why?" Madeline was silent for a moment, then she sighed. "We all do what has to be done. Michael knows that. He accepts it." David nodded. "That's what I find so damn interesting," he said softly. And he knew he was speaking to the one person who could understand what he saying. Madeline understood the human psyche better than anyone. Perhaps...even better than she realized. "Michael is loyal to Section one. He gives one hundred and ten percent of himself on every mission. He takes bullets for you, kills for you....would die for you. Even though it's never enough for you." David broke off to look deep into Madeline's dark eyes before he asked, "Why is that?" "Why is it never enough?" Madeline countered, knowing that wasn't the question that David was asking. "Why is Michael so loyal to you? Why doesn't he tell you all to go to hell? Or....why hasn't he swallowed a bullet yet?" David felt his anger turn to sorrow. "Michael is so full of pain and guilt, and self-hatred that it is astonishing to me that he still makes the effort to live. Unless...unless he believes that living is punishment for what he is." Madeline found David's choice of words interesting. That he said *what* Michael is and not *who*. "Michael is very special," Madeline replied, and she meant it even though she knew that David wouldn't understand it. He looked at her and laughed. "He's next in line for Operations, isn't he? Some future." "Michael is strong," Madeline whispered. "I know," David replied, and he found himself blinking back tears. But he locked eyes with Madeline. "He's stronger than any of you realize. And that's what frightens me." And with that cryptic statement hanging in the air, David turned and walked away, feeling Madeline's eyes burning into his back. ************* Michael was with Nikita and Birkhoff, discussing an upcoming mission. The three of them would be leaving for London in six hours. He felt eyes watching him and glanced up to see David standing across the room. Michael excused himself from his companions to join the older man. "Did you want something?" he asked , as he stood with his hands clasped before him. David nodded. He knew Michael was leaving soon and there was always the chance that he wouldn't come back, so he needed to say what he was thinking now. "I wanted to thank you....for saving my life in Vegas," he said, and found that he was unable to meet the intensity of Michael's gaze. Some people would accuse Michael of having a *blank* stare, but David knew that the younger man saw deep into a persons' soul. That he was also thinking and processing what he saw and heard. That he was always watching, and remembering, and learning. Michael saw more than anyone realized. David wanted him to know that he knew that. "It took me awhile to realize that's what you were doing when you made me shoot Saunders," he confessed. "You weren't trying to punish me. You were trying to keep me alive." He looked up and saw Michael's eyes flicker, but that was the young man's only reaction. David wasn't surprised. "That's what you do best, Michael. You keep us all alive. Sometimes, in spite of ourselves." A long moment of silence stretched between the two men, then Michael whispered, "I'm sorry." "I know," David replied, then he turned and walked away. ************* After a successful mission in London, Michael was back in his office, typing up the report. Operations wanted it on his desk first thing in the morning, and it was nearly dawn now. Madeline entered Michael's office without knocking. She sat down in the chair across from him and got straight to the point of her visit. "David is dead," she announced, then she watched for a reaction. Michael stopped typing, but that was all. He didn't look up, nor did he ask any questions. But Madeline gave him answers anyway. "He swallowed a bullet, less than an hour ago." She held out a card to to Michael. "He left this for you." Michael took it. It was a plain, cream-colored card, folded in half with his name printed across the front of it. He nodded, then waited. A moment later he heard the echoes of Madeline's footsteps as she walked away. Only then did Michael open the card. David had scrawled one sentence. ...Shadows are a reflection of the light..... Michael's fingers closed over the card, crumpling it, then he tossed it into the waste paper basket beneath his desk. Turning his attention back to his report, Michael began typing again. But then he stopped and found himself reaching into the basket to retrieve the card. He smoothed it out and tucked it into his jacket pocket. There was a cup of coffee on his desk, long grown cold, but Michael took a swallow, not even reacting to it's bitterness. Then he refocused his attention back to his report and resumed typing. THE END BACK TO AUTHOR'S S-T LFN STORYBOARD ARCHIVES MAIN PAGE LFN LINKS PAGE Send suggestions or comments to Shelly