---

Author's Note: This is the sequel to DARK IMAGES!

Operations looked around the conference room. One chair was empty. He glared at Michael.

"Where's Nikita? I thought she knew she was supposed to be here." Nikita was vital to the mission profile.

"She knew," Michael replied. "I don't know where she is."

"Find her," Operations ordered. Then he looked at the other operatives. "Dismissed till further notice!" he barked.

Operations watched them scatter, then he left the area.

Michael was the last to leave. He sat in his chair, finding it hard to move. For the past few hours he had been feeling uneasy.

Something at the edge of his consciousness was trying to make itself felt. But it was more than sensation...it was images. Quick-silver flashes that disappeared before he could grasp them. Something to do with Nikita. That thought was enough to launch Michael out of his chair. As he headed down the corridor, Michael heard Nikita whisper his name in his mind.

Michael approached Nikita's apartment with caution. He parked his motorcycle at the curb, removed his helmet and had his hand closed over his gun as he made his way to her door. Michael pressed himself back against the wall as he noted the door was partially open. Using his foot, Michael shoved it back then passed across the opening to the other side. A quick glimpse showed him wreckage, but no shooter. So Michael entered, his gun held out in front of him.

The apartment had been trashed. Cupboards opened, their contents strewn across the floor. Furniture broken, fabric slashed, glass cruching beneath Michael's booted feet. He checked each room, but it was just a formality. Michael knew Nikita was gone. He pulled out his cell phone and contacted Madeline. Operations was with her as Michael reported that Nikita had been grabbed.

"Any clue as to who might have done it?" Operations questioned.

"No," Michael replied, as he continued searching. He saw a pair of sunglasses on the floor and recognized them as Nikita's favorites. Michael bent down and scooped them into his hand. The frame was bent and the glass cracked. But that didn't matter.

He gasped as if he had been kicked in the gut.

Madeline heard him. "Michael....what's wrong?"

He didn't answer. Couldn't. Images were bombarding him in quick succession, like a tidal wave craching over him and Michael was disoriented. There was pain, in his arm, then the image of Nikita.

Two men holding her, blood on her arm and matted in her hair.

"MICHAEL!" Operations shouted, his voice crackling through the phone.

"Michael," Madeline echoed, her voice soft and calm.

Another wave of pain then the images faded and Michael braced one hand against the wall as he felt his knees buckle.

"Yes..." he hissed into the phone.

Madeline was silent for a moment, then she ordered, "Come in."

Michael was lying on a bed in Medlab. He protested that it wasn't necessary, but Madeline had insisted. So Michael watched as she tied a measure of rubber tubing around his left bicep, then tapped for a vein in his forearm. Operations was across the room, leaning against wall.

"This is a new serum," Madeline explained, as she slid the needle into Michael's arm. "It's more highly concentrated but shouldn't have any unpleasant side effects. You should feel nothing at all."

"Good," Michael replied. He remembered the other serum Madeline had used, when Galen had been on the loose and Section had needed Michael to use his empathic bond with the woman to find her, and stop her from slaughtering Section Operatives. The serum helped Michael to connect to Galen. To see into her mind and thought, and to lock on to her whereabouts. What had ensued was a game of cat and mouse into the heart of darkness. Michael had nearly been lost, but Nikita had pulled him back into the light. Her light. Michael had been surprised by his reaction in Nikita's apartment. Had thought his empathic abilities had extended only to Galen. But Madeline felt that his bond to Nikita might be such that with the help of the new serum, Michael might be able to locate her. He was willing to try.

Madeline finished injecting Michael and she set the empty syringe in a dish on the bedstand before undoing the tubing on his arm.

"How do you feel?" she asked, watching his face carefully.

Michael considered before answering. He felt nothing, no reaction to the serum. The other one had been horrific, sending liquid fire burning through Michael's veins only to be replaced by ice.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"Close your eyes and focus, Michael," Madeline instructed. "Remember what you saw in Nikita's apartment and reach out for it. Find her."

"Find her.." Michael repeated, his eyes closing and his focus drawing inward. Suddenly he felt as if he were falling, spiraling into darkness. And within the darkness was a light, then an image. Nikita. Michael latched on to her. The image was blurry, as if Michael had put drops in his eyes and they had yet to focus, but it was Nikita.

"I see her.." Michael whispered.

Madeline smiled. "Tell us," she requested.

Michael concentrated on identifying what he was seeing. "She's in a room....no windows. Dressed in white...pacing." He flinched suddenly, feeling a ripple of pain. Nikita's pain.

"What else?" Madeline prompted. She was attuned to every nuance of reaction that Michael made. "Is there anyone with her?"

"No," Michael replied. Suddenly the picture sharpened and Michael could see that Nikita was crying. No....that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't see her tears so much as feel them.

Operations moved forward. "Can you determine Nikita's location?" he demanded.

Michael shook his head. "No," he whispered. The images began to fade and Michael tried to cling to them. But the dissolved, leaving him shaking. Michael didn't realize his condition till he felt Madeline's hands on his face. She smoothed his hair, as a mother would comfort a child after a nightmare. Michael blinked, then opened his eyes. He made to rise and Madeline stepped aside, allowing it.

"Is that all?" Michael queried.

"That's all," Madeline confirmed. She watched as Michael left the room, then turned to find Operations watching her. "His connection to Nikita is strong," she stated.

"But not strong enough," Operations hissed. He paced in a small circle. "How is this possible, Madeline? I thought Michael's empathic abilities extended only to Nikita?"

Madeline shrugged. "Michael had learned to smother his emotions. I believe he does the same with his....gift. It terrifies him."

Operations laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "It scares the hell out of me," he confessed. "Give Michael some time, then give him a stronger injection. We need to find out who has Nikita."

"Is Birkhoff searching?" Madeline countered.

"Yes, but he's coming up empty," Operations replied. "It was as if Nikita was taken by ghosts. They left no trail to follow. Nothing."

Madeline reached out and touched his arm. "We'll find Nikita," she said softly, then she left the room.

Madeline went directly to her office. Once there she sat down behind her desk and removed a recording device from the center draw.

She tapped the button to record then lifted spoke into the receiver.

"Michael experienced a strong vision. From what I observed, the images were distinct and the sensations were exact. He did this without artificial or chemical assistance. The injection I administered to him was saline solution."

Tapping off the device, Madeline replaced it in her desk then leaned back in her chair to reflect upon what had occurred. A smile of satisfaction curving her lips.

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

Michael stood at Birkhoff's station. He was running Sims with the computer whiz, for an upcoming mission profile. But Michael was finding it hard to focus on his task. His thoughts were filled with Nikita. Madeline had asked him to try again to locate her, but the attempt had failed, inspite of a larger dose of the serum. Michael felt as if he had failed Nikita.

Birkhoff was unaware of Michael's thoughts. He was totally focused on what they were doing. After biting off a measure of licorice he asked,

"Want to run it again?" When he received no response, Birkhoff swivelled in his chair to stare at Michael. He was about to repeat the question when he saw Michael turn pale and sway on his feet. "You okay?" Birkhoff hissed.

"Nikita..." The name left Michael's lips as a tortured breath. His body was suddenly aflame with pain and a cold sweat broke out, sheening his skin. Nikita's pain. The world about Michael spun as images took form. He saw a white room. Nikita strapped to a chair.

Her skin and clothes were wet, hair tangled in her face, skin pale. A man....like a shadow...looming over her. Something cold touched Nikita's skin. A metal surface. Then pain exploded and her body jerked as electricity coursed through her nerve endings. Michael felt her heart skip a beat. He gasped as she labored to draw in breath. His throat felt raw and his mouth opened, as Nikita screamed.

"Emergency!" Birkhoff shouted, as he watched Michael fall to his knees. Then he remembered to hit the call button which would buzz directly into Medlab.

Operations was in his office when he heard Birkhoff shout. Seeing Michael on the floor, he ran for the stairs. Operations reached Birkhoff's station just as the Medlab team came racing down the corridor.

"What happened?" Operations demanded, the question directed at Birkhoff.

The computer whiz shook his head, pushing back in his chair to make room for the Medics. "I don't know," Birkhoff whispered. "We were running Sims and the next thing I know Michael had zoned out."

"Don't let him die!" Operations snarled at a medic.

"Yes sir!" the man replied, even as he slipped an oxygen mask over Michael's face. They placed him on a back board as a precaution, then lifted him onto the gurney. A moment later they were racing down the hall again.

Operations stomped over to Birkhoff's console. He stabbed at a button then waited. A moment later Madeline's voice came through.

Her tone was detached. "What is it?" Madeline questioned.

"Michael collapsed," Operations stated, his own tone colored with anxiety. His concern not necessarily for Michael's well being as much as the fact that without the young operative, Section would have no way of locating Nikita and thereby discovering who had taken her. Operations didn't like unknown entities.

"I'm on my way," Madeline replied. A click revealed she had severed the connection.

Operations glared at Birkhoff. He wasn't angry at the young man, he was simply...angry. "I'll be in Medlab," he announced, then he strode off.

Birkhoff leaned forward in his chair then buried his face in his hands. A moment later he lifted his head and rubbed one hand over his shorn head. "Too weird," he muttered. Birkhoff popped an oreo cookie in his mouth then glided his chair back over to the terminal he had been working at, to finish running the Sims.

Michael felt a soothing hand in his hair as consciousness returned. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked to clear his vision. Madeline was smiling at him. Michael found that strange. Then he realized that he was lying down. A glance about the room and he sat up with a jerk.

"Why am I in Medlab?" Michael demanded.

"You don't remember what happened?" Madeline countered. She placed one hand against Michael's chest and pressed him back down into the mattress.

"I....I remember working on the sims with..." Michael broke off as an image flashed in his head. He winced in remembered pain. "Nikita.." he whispered.

Madeline sat down in a chair next to the bed. "You collapsed, Michael. The visions are much stronger than they ever were with Galen. Tell me what you saw...and felt."

Michael shifted against the pillows, wanting to get up but knowing that Madeline would not allow. Not until he had answered her questions.

"Nikita was being tortured," Michael replied. "Electro shock."

"You felt it?" Madeline queried.

"Yes," Michael whispered. He was unaware that his breathing changed as he spoke. His body was reacting to the imprint of images that had been burned into his psyche.

Madeline was intrigued. She hadn't expected this to happen. It could prove useful to Section in many ways.

"What else?" she prompted, wanting details.

Michael knew exactly what Madeline wanted to hear, and so he told her everything. And as he did so, Michael drew his mask firmly back into place. He had learned, long ago, not to reveal too much to Madeline. Michael stated facts, nothing more, and his voice was monotone. No inflection to reveal his emotions.

"So...you still can't identify who has Nikita, or her location," Madeline commented.

"No," Michael acknowledged. But it was a lie. He had an idea of where Nikita might be. Not so much from what he had seen, but what he had felt. What he could still feel. It was like a hum beneath his skin. A intrinsic awareness of Nikita that Michael believed he could use to track her. But he did not share this belief with Madeline. "Can I go now?" Michael asked, when he realized that Madeline was silent and contemplative.

Offering a cold smile, Madeline shook her head. "I want you to rest, Michael," she said softly. There was a syringe on the bedside table and she reached for it now. She locked eyes with Michael when he opened his mouth to protest, then smiled again when he relaxed back against the pillows and offered his arm. Madeline gave him the injection, then watched as Michael's eyes fluttered closed.

Only once she was sure he was asleep, did Madeline leave the room.

Operations was wating for her just outside of Medlab. "What happened?" he demanded, his eyes glacial.

"Michael connected with Nikita," Madeline replied. "He felt her being tortured. My guess is it was while it was happening."

"He can he do that?" Operations countered, finding it hard to accept.

Madeline nodded. "Michael is just full of surprises," she drawled. There was also no doubt in her mind that he was hiding something from her.

Operations considered the implications of what Madeline was telling him. "Do you think Michael can find Nikita?" he asked.

"I'm sure he can," she said softly. Offering a smile, Madeline looped her arm through Operations and walked him down the corridor towards her office. "I think it would be in our best interest to give Michael Liberty." Liberty being when an operative was given permission to act autonomously, so long as they checked in with Section at predetermined intervals.

"Do it," Operations conceded. "Only I want him gridlocked. Handle it personally, Madeline. No one else is to know about this."

Madeline nodded. "Of course," she replied. They reached her office and she released Operation's arms. "I'll keep you informed."

He managed a smile, then an afterthought occurred. "Is Michael all right?" Operations queried.

"He will be," Madeline drawled. Then she turned away and entered her office. After closing the door and making certain that it was sealed, Madeline went to her desk and removed a cell phone.

She punched in a sequence of numbers then waited. When a voice responded she replied, "Sequence has begun."

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

Michael had been surprised, but pleased, when Madeline informed him that he was being given Liberty to find Nikita. He was wise enough to know that he would be gridlocked, which Madeline confirmed, and he was cautious enough to suspect that she was aware that he was keeping information from her. Madeline was no fool. With these thoughts in mind, Michael drove to Nikita's apartment. He was on a motorcycle for he felt it would be more convenient for him. Michael was letting instinct guide him.

Once in Nikita's apartment, Michael walked from room to room. He could feel her presence, like a lingering aura in the air. He had never noticed it before and Michael wondered if it had something to do with the new serum that Madeline had given him. But those thoughts faded as an image flashed in his mind. Nikita. In the white room. She was lying on a bed....restless...moaning. Her pain filtered through Michael making his knees buckle. But he clung to it, and the image, as his only link to Nikita.

Michael ran for the door and found himself outside, on the bike, ignoring his helmut as he revved the engine and glided into traffic. He headed south pushing speeds of eighty. Abruptly the image faded, but not the pain. Michael let it wash over him then he attempted to block it. Not for himself, but for Nikita. He absorbed what she was feeling then shielded her so that it wouldn't bleed back to her. Michael didn't know if it would work, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't bear feeling Nikita in such agony.

Once before, when Galen had kidnapped Nikita and tortured her, Michael had wanted to shield her from the pain, but hadn't because it had been his only link to finding her. But, this time, Michael was connected to Nikita in a deeper sense. He was in her head. And that was how he would find her. Gritting his teeth as another wave of pain washed over him, Michael pushed the bike to ninety. He had to reach Nikita soon for she wouldn't be able to bear the pain much longer. And in that moment, Michael didn't realize that he had shut out the entire world. All that existed for him now was the image of Nikita and the beating of his heart.

It took Michael six hours to reach his destination. He used Birkhoff's radar detector to keep track of cops and kept the bike at speeds pushing ninety. Michael kept pushing himself to the limit as well, and it was taking its toll. By the time he turned into the winding driveway of the abandoned Mental Hospital, where he was certain Nikita was being held, Michael felt near to collapse. He parked the bike and slid off it only to find his knees buckling. It was time to drop his shields. As he did so Michael gasped.

Nikita wasn't there. The hum that was her presence was gone, along with the pain. Michael felt a flutter of panic then calmed himself. Logic told him that Nikita had no doubt passed out from the pain and that he had still felt connected to her before because he was so locked into her. Michael was aware of his ability to focus to the point of shutting down all outside awareness. He knew he had done that with Nikita.

Pushing away from the bike, Michael headed for the entrance of the hospital. Yet the closer he got the more he became uneasy. Something was wrong. Michael reached for his gun, gripping it lightly in his right hand. He avoided the front exit, moving around the building to the back instead. There he found an access door and it was there that Michael entered. He found himself in a long corridor leading through a maintenance area. It led to a set of stairs and Michael ran up them, silently, then opened the first door he came to. He was on the first floor now and glided down the hallway to his left. It was as if he were being pulled by an invisible string.

Rounding a corner, Michael stopped. Lying on the floor were three dead bodies. He didn't need to check them to know they were dead, they were covered in blood and filled with bullet holes. Michael stepped over them, but paused beside the third man. His jaw clenched as he recognized him. Potter. An operative from the abeyance pool. In that moment Michael understood. Section was behind Nikita's kidnapping. Madeline. And it was a test. They were testing him. His...gift. Uncaring of the pain that Nikita would be forced to suffer. Uncaring of his pain. Nothing new. But Michael checked his anger, forcibly dissolving it. He would not let it control him. To do so was senseless. Section would use it against him...if he let them. He had learned that lesson the hard way. But that was not his main concern now. Nikita was gone and Section operatives were dead. Michael knew that something was wrong. That this was not part of the sequence.

Removing his cell phone from his coat pocket, Michael tapped in a number. He waited for the other party to respond. Madeline.

"You've been breached," Michael whispered.

Madeline was silent for a moment, hearing nothing in Michael's tone to reveal his anger, but she knew that he had found out the truth. She just didn't understand how.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone betraying nothing of what she felt either.

"Three Ops are dead, Nikita is gone," Michael replied. Then he asked the question that burned inside him. "Why?"

"I'm sure you know why, Michael," Madeline replied. She wanted to ask about Nikita and the dead operatives, but knew she had to answer Michael's question first. "Your...gift...may prove useful to Section."

Michael didn't respond. He wanted to, but couldn't. All at once an image of Nikita hit him like a slap in the face. She was with a man wearing fatigues and a red bandana around his neck. Michael gasped. Red Cell. He was certain of it. The image faded but not the sense of Nikita. Michael dropped the cell phone and smashed it beneath the heel of his boot, then he ran out of the building. A moment later he was on his motorcyle and heading west.

Madeline was not happy when the connection went dead. She hung up her own phone then focused her attention onto her terminal.

Typing rapidly, she sent off an IM. She received a reply one minute later. Complete Sequence. Code Alpha-blue. Heaving a sigh, Madeline rose to her feet and went in search of Operations.

He was in her office. When Madeline entered, Operations smiled at her. But his smile faded when he saw the look on her face.

"What is it?' he asked.

"We've been breached," Madeline replied. She gestured for Operations to sit down, knowing that he would not like what she was about to tell him.

"What are you talking about?" Operations demanded, his pale eyes glittering as they locked with Madeline's.

She sighed. "I just spoke with Michael. He found where Nikita was being held. But it's...complicated."

Operations folded his arms across his chest. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Section was behind Nikita's kidnapping," Madeline announced. "I was ordered to arrange her being grabbed as a test of Michael's empathic abilities."

"Ordered by whom?" Operations queried, keeping a firm hold on his temper.

Madeline let a cold smile curve her lips. "Level One," she replied. That was all.

Operations stood up and began to pace. "Why wasn't I told?" he demanded. That he had been excluded from the loop infuriated him to the point that he felt himself tremble.

"It was believed you didn't need to know," Madeline replied, but her eyes became shuttered, revealing that there was much more she wasn't saying.

"What else?" Operations challenged. He could guess why he hadn't been told, but had hoped Madeline would admit it. When she had been kidnapped and Michael had gone into Mandatory refusal to complete his mission, Operations had crossed the emotional border. Ordering Michael taken out of play, by means of cancellation, in order to keep Madeline alive. And he had done this knowing that it would put the mission at risk and that there was no guarantee that Madeline would survive anyway. And she wouldn't have, had it not been for Nikita's autonomous intervention. Operations knew that Level One was watching him with an eagle eye now. He could not afford any more mistakes. But now he waited for Madeline to tell him the rest of the story. He knew her well enough to recognize that something had gone wrong.

Madeline moved to look out the window, staring at the operatives who moved below. "I used Operatives from the abeyance pool. Michael must have recognized one of them."

Operations grimaced. "Then he knows he's being tested." At Madeline's nod he ordered, "Call Michael in."

"I can't," Madeline replied. "He broke contact. The operatives are dead, Nikita is gone. Michael told me that much before the line went dead."

"Someone else has her now?" Operations questioned.

Madeline nodded. "Yes."

Moving to her side, Operations locked eyes with Madeline. "What about Michael?" he demanded.

"I think he went to find her," Madeline whispered. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

Operations watched her go then moved to his desk. The game plans had changed. He hit a button on his console and when Birkhoff answered her barked, "Send out a retrieval team to find Michael. He's to be brought back...alive. Everyone else is expendable. Code Liberty one."

"Yes sir," Birkhoff replied.

"Sorry Nikita," Operations drawled as he signed off. Then he sat down behind his desk to finish reviewing the updates on the latest batch of recruits.

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

Nikita felt cold seeping into her bones. It wasn't the temperature of the room that made her shiver, for it was hot to the point of stuffy. It was the eyes of the man that stared at her. They were cold and dead.

"Who are you?" Nikita demanded. She had remained silent for a long time, but now pain and exhausted had broken down her defenses. That, and the drugs he had given her.

"I'm your friend," drawled the man. He moved to kneel before Nikita's chair, his blue-back hair glistening under the bright lights. "My name is Gabriel."

"What do you want with me?" Nikita hissed, clinging to her defiance as much as she could.

Gabriel smiled and it hinted at the cruelness he was capable of. "Did you know that Section One kidnapped you, Nikita?" he countered. "That they are the ones the brought you to that mental hospital and tortured you?" Gabriel studied Nikita's eyes and could see that she didn't believe him. "Shall I tell you why?" he offered.

When Nikita looked away, Gabriel laughed. "Because of Michael," he whispered.

That got a reaction. In spite of herself, Nikita flinched. Turning her head to lock eyes with Gabriel she whispered,

"Michael..."

"That's right," he confirmed. "You see they wanted to test Michael's...gift. His...empathic...abilities. To see how strong they are."

"They already know," Nikita hissed.

Gabriel sighed. "Poor Nikita," he purred. "You just refuse to believe that Section could be so cruel. But they are. And, deep down inside, you know it. They have to test Michael. They have to know if his powers extend beyond Galen." Gabriel paused when he heard Nikita's sharp intake of breath. "Oh yes," he whispered, leaning close to her ear. "I know about Galen. If Michael is empathic to you and to others, just think of how useful a weapon his gift would be. I've thought of it...dreamed of it. I know it first hand."

Nikita was stunned as realization occurred. She knew that Gabriel was Red Cell, but Galen had been Section.

"Galen worked for you," Nikita countered, her eyes flashing.

"In a sense," Gabriel allowed. "She worked for the cause. She believed in it, as I do."

"You still haven't answered my question," Nikita snarled. "What do you want with me?"

Gabriel shrugged then rose to his feet in a graceful motion.

"I want Michael," he drawled. "And I need you to lure him here."

Nikita laughed, but spoiled the effect as a cough shook her, sending shockwaves of pain rippling through her body.

"Michael doesn't know I'm here. And he won't be able to find me. His...gift...only worked with Galen."

"We'll see," Gabriel replied, then he drew back one hand and slapped Nikita across the face. When she moaned, he smiled.

Madeline was pacing behind Birkhoff's station. That she was doing so was a sure sign of her agitation. Madeline never paced. But her control was on edge and she felt ready to snap. Right now she was between a rock and a hard place. Operations and level One. And running through it all was a thread of compassion for Michael and Nikita. Michael in particular. He was special to her in many ways. Ways she didn't allow herself to think about often. Madeline wanted him back, and safe. But she feared as to his sanity, if they could find him.

"Any luck?" she asked Birkhoff.

The computer whiz shook his head, his eyes never leaving his monitor screen. "The Retrieval team is on site, but they've found nothing. And Michael removed the trackers from his motorcycle, helmet and boots. He found them all."

"Of course he did," Madeline whispered, mostly to her self. "Keep me informed," she ordered Birkhoff, then she moved off, heading for her office. Unaware that she was being watched from the Ivory tower.

Michael parked the motorcycle in front of the homeless shelter. Nikita was close by, he could feel her. Feel her pain. Even as he removed his helmet and stepped up onto the side walk, Michael was hit with an image. He knew that Nikita was underground. So he entered the shelter and strode through the main hall, searching for a door that would lead him down below.

The director of the shelter saw Michael approaching. A young man dressed in black leather and wearing sunglasses, his face beautiful and cold. Swallowing hard he asked,

"May I help you?"

"Where is your basement?" Michael questioned, his soft tone belying his impatience.

"Over there," the director replied, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. He had no intention of lying. There were over two hundred people in the shelter and the director's first thought was to protect them. The director sensed that the young man before him was the Terminator in the flesh.

Michael nodded then whispered, "Thank you." He strode down the hallway then opened the door. After entering the stairwell he locked the door behind him. Concrete stairs took him down to the ground level. From there Michael let his instincts guide him. There was a long corridor that split in two directions. Michael went east. He found himself in the boiler room. There was another set of stairs leading down to a locked door. Michael pulled his gun and blasted the lock. Gun still in hand he slipped through the door.

It was a trap and Michael knew it. Knew also that he had no choice but to continue. Red Cell was using Nikita to lure him in. Somehow they knew about his gift. Somehow they had breached Section One. That was the part that bothered Michael most. But for the moment he pushed that thought aside. There was a flash of motion to his left and Michael dived into a roll. He heard a whizzing sound then a soft thud. A tranq dart had bounced off the pipe where he had stood a moment ago and now lay on the floor. Michael rolled behind the boiler then waited.

Footsteps scuttled across the floor. Michael listened then he moved, coming out from behind the boiler and firing. Two men fell. Michael stepped over the bodies and continued down the corridor in the direction the men had been hiding in. He didn't get far before he was attacked. Michael did a roundhouse kick and one man went down. The other kicked his gun out of his hand, and Michael retaliated by slamming the heel of his hand into the other man's chin. There was a snapping sound and the enemy dropped. Michael was reaching for his gun when the area suddenly became crowded. Six men trained their weapons on Michael. All of them held tranq guns. Michael could have fought, but knew he would go down under the assault. Better to be conscious he acknowledged to himself, so he raised his hands then clasped them behind his head.

One man came foward and grabbed Michael's arms, binding his wrists together behind his back. Then he shoved Michael forward and they headed out. Down a long corridor, through two doorways, then into a large room with a long table and several chairs. It was here that a man waited.

It was the man that Michael had seen in his vision. Red Cell. Michael felt dark eyes appraise him and he allowed it, his own eyes blank.

"Hello, Michael," Gabriel drawled as he glided forward to confront the other man. He wasn't surprised when Michael simply blinked at him. He knew how good an operative he was. Gabriel was intrigued, however, and impressed. He hadn't expected Michael to find them so quickly. Lifting one hand, Gabriel took Michael's chin in his hand, dark eyes locking with silver-green.

In the moment of contact, Michael was struck with a vision. This man who touched him in the arms of Galen, bodies naked and glistening with sweat. It came and went in a heartbeat, but Michael understood what it meant. "Lovers," he whispered.

Gabriel dropped his hand, stunned by Michael's comment. Galen had been right about Michael's gift. It was stronger than her own had been, but he oblivious to his own powers.

"That's right," Gabriel confirmed. "Galen and I were lovers. She told me all about you, Michael."

"You have me at a disadvantage then," Michael replied, unfailingly polite in his tone.

"I'm Gabriel. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time." Moving over to the table, Gabriel gestured for Michael to sit down.

When the operative didn't move he smiled. "You can sit on your own, or my men can do it for you. You're choice."

Michael was no fool. He moved to the closest chair and sat down. "Where is Nikita?"

Gabriel sighed. "Safe. Alive."

"Will you kill her?" Michael countered. He locked eyes with Gabriel and knew that the other man had no soul. He would not be swayed by pleas or bargains.

"I haven't decided yet," Gabriel allowed. "Galen was right, Michael. Nikita is your weakness. No matter. She's no longer your concern." From his jacket pocket, Gabriel removed a syringe. He nodded to his guards and two moved forward to take position on either side of Michael. They held his arms as Gabriel moved forward. Grasping a handful of Michael's hair, Gabriel pulled his head to one side to expose his throat, then he plunged the needle in to Michael's vein. After pumping in the clear liquid, Gabriel released Michael and ordered his men to step back. Then he returned to the table to watch.

Michael felt fire course through his veins but he didn't fight it. He knew from experience that it would only heighten the sensation. So Michael forced his body to relax, regulating his breathing and focusing inward on the changes taking place in his body.

Michael felt his muscles go lax but used the force of his will to keep himself upright in the chair.

"Very good, Michael," Gabriel drawled. "You're strong. Very strong. You'll need to be."

"So...will....you," Michael whispered. Then he fell into darkness.

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

Michael felt pain. It wasn't sharp so much as unexpected, and it brought him to full consciousness. Pushing the pain aside, Michael focused on his other senses. Shifting his body, he realized he was lying on his back and his wrists and ankles were restrained. When he opened his eyes he saw only darkness, that was due to the hood over his head. Listening carefully, Michael heard the sound of breathing and knew that he was not alone. Only then did he allow himself to focus on the pain again. It burned across his left palm and, instinctively, Michael curled his fingers. He was surprised to realize there was no blood. Another sensation made itself known, a hand was lightly touching his forearm and in that moment he saw the image of Gabriel's face.

Gabriel smiled as he watched Michael's reactions. "Touch empath," he said softly, for it was his palm that was being cut by the sharp edge of a stilletto. "Enough," Gabriel whispered, to the man who had been cutting him. His other hand was on Michael's arm.

Once they were alone he removed his hand and walked around to the other side of the gurney. He noticed that Michael's head shifted to track him, even though the Section operative was blinded by the hood he wore.

"You're gift is expansive, Michael," Gabriel drawled. "You felt my pain when I touched you. Do you feel it now?"

"No," Michael replied. He saw no reason not to answer. A part of him was curious as to his own strengths and weaknesses in regards to his powers.

"Did you see me in your mind?" Gabriel prompted.

Michael didn't respond for a sudden image had bombarded him. Nikita. She was strapped down on a table and a blurred image, wearing white, was about to give her an injection. Michael felt the pinprick of the needle as it pierced Nikita's skin, then he felt white-fire course throughout his veins. When Nikita screamed in agony, Michael bit his lip.

Gabriel saw Michael stiffen and could guess why. He knew what was going on in the other room. Had, in fact, orchestrated Nikita's torture to test Michael.

"Clairvoyent and empathic," he whispered, as a smile of satisfaction curved his lips. From a nearby table, Gabriel picked up a syringe. It was filled with a pale, amber, liquid and he injected it into Michael's forearm.

"No.." Michael hissed, the word slipping out involuntarily. And only because in that moment, the image of Nikita began to fade in his mind. She became a blur, then only a shimmer of light. Then that shimmer winked out, like the sun being blotted by an eclipse. No glimmer could be seen. There was only darkness. Michael heard the beating of his heart in his chest. It seemed to pound in his ears, growing louder by the second until he was certain he would go deaf. Then it began to fade to silence, and the silence faded as well. And then awareness slipped away from Michael and he let it go.

Cold....dark. Beyond dark. Those were Michael's first impressions. But they weren't accurate. It might or might not have been cold. Michael couldn't be sure, because he couldn't feel it. There was no sensation of warmth or cold, pain or pleasure. Nothing. Dead...he wondered, but that couldn't be either. If he were dead there would be no awareness. But then again, there was no awareness. No sense of sight, sound or feeling. Not even the sound of silence, or a glimmer of light. No sense of his eyes being open or closed. Michael listened hard but couldn't hear the beating of his heart, nor could he feel it pounding in his chest. His skin felt nothing. No restraints biting into flesh, no sense of movement although he willed his finger to flex. But it was as if there was no body connected to his mind. Michael could not control what did not exist.

He screamed, or so he thought, but there was no sound. His lips did not part, his vocal chords did not flex. His lungs did not inhale air then push it out again. No sense of breathing. Nothing to see. No light...or dark. No scent to fill his nostrils. No passage of time. Michael tried to count the seconds but there were none. Should have been afraid. Was afraid, but couldn't feel it. Wanted to cry but he had no eyes, no tears. Nothing. No memory of who he was. Couldn't remember his own face. Had no face...no soul...no heart. Not dead yet not alive. No way to know the difference. No reason to care. He was alone. Didn't remember his name. Didn't exist.

"Bring him out of it now!" Gabriel ordered. He was watching the heart monitor and the blips that signalled Michael's heartrate were slowing down. In the blink of an eye they faded and flatlined.

Two men in white ran into the small room where Michael resided. It had been pitch dark but light now flooded the room. In the center of it was a big tank, filled with water. A sensory deprivation tank. Michael was floating in it. He was connected to wires and had tubing in his mouth that lead to an oxygen tank. Two other men joined the doctors, wheeling in a gurney. They waited for a signal then lifted Michael out of the tank and onto the gurney.

Gabriel watched from the other room, via monitor. The doctor's worked, feverishly, to jumpstart Michael's heart. They knew they would die if Michael were to die. Gabriel had promised them that. He leaned forward now, hands curled into fists, as he willed the heart monitor to blip again. Long seconds passed and it seemed as if Michael was gone, but even as Gabriel was about to rise and enter the other room, he heard a blip. Staring at a second monitor, which showed Michael's vital signs, Gabriel saw that his heart was beating again. A bit slow, but steady. Michael was a strong man.

"Take him to his room," Gabriel ordered, tapping the button for the comm-link. The tests could not continue until Michael regained consciousness. Then Gabriel would move on to phase two.

Madeline watched as Operations paced in front of her desk. She knew that he had not forgiven her for keeping secrets from him, but that did not concern her now. Forty-eight hours had passed with no word from Michael.

Operations stopped pacing to glare at Madeline. "What else haven't you told me?" he demanded, trying not to let the hurt he was feeling show.

"I don't have time for your insecurities," Madeline hissed. "The Retrieval team came back, empty-handed. No sign of Michael."

"So what do we do?" Operations countered, his eyes flashing. He was feeling the sting of Madeline's rebuke.

She rose from behind her desk. "I've been in contact with LYNX," Madeline replied. It was a group based in Europe. A collection of people who possessed skills such as Michael's. Empathy, clairvoyance, telepathy and the like.

Operation nodded, he knew who LYNX were. "And?" he prompted.

"They're sending someone," Madeline said. "Brad Kinley. He's one of the best."

"Best what?" Operations challenged.

"Blood hounds," Madeline replied, and a cold smile curved her lips. "He's aware of Michael's....skills. Level One has kept LYNX informed of Michael's progress."

Operations laughed suddenly, as he realized something. "That's why Level One wanted you to test Michael," he drawled, shaking his head at his own ignorance. "LYNX is interested in recruiting him."

Madeline nodded. "Yes," she confirmed.

"And what if I refused to let him go?" Operations countered, his curiousity genuine.

"That would not have been an issue," Madeline replied softly. Her eyes locked with Operations and she let him see the truth. That the powers that be over him would be more than willing to remove him, should he try to interfere with their plans in this matter.

Operations felt a chill ripple up his spine. Then a smile curved his lips. "I see," he drawled, then he walked out of the office without a backward glance.

Madeline sighed then rubbed her temples with her fingertips. She had a tension headache that would not ease up. And she didn't expect it to get better until Michael was found. Her phone beeped and Madeline moved to answer. "Yes," she whispered.

"Mister Kinley is in the blue room," Birkhoff reported.

"Thank you," Madeline replied. Then she hung up the phone and headed for the door. Brad Kinley was the only chance Section had at retrieving Michael, and the odds that he would succeed were a hundred to one. Or so she believed. But then, Madeline had never been a true believer. It was her greatest weakness.

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

Madeline entered the Blue room. The man waiting for her was sitting at the table in the center of the room, his posture relaxed in the chair, a smile curving his lips. Madeline returned the smile, then moved to stand before him.

"Can you reach Michael?" she asked, without preamble.

Brad Kinley locked eyes with Madeline then he stood up. It amused him to note that the dark-haired woman towered over him by at least six inches.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think so," he drawled. "I need access to his office."

"Follow me," Madeline replied, then she turned and glided out of the room.

"I'd like to be alone," Brad commented, as he sat down behind Michael's desk. He pressed his palms to the desk top and could feel vibrations that tickled his skin. It wasn't really a physical sensation so much as it was a mental one.

Madeline was reluctant to leave but she nodded. Pointing to a button on Michael's phone she said,

"Push that to reach me. I'll be in my office."

Brad smiled, but his eyes were elsewhere. He heard Madeline leave, closing the door behind her, then Brad leaned back in Michael's chair and let sensation wash over him. There was pain, sadness and the sense of deep exhaustion. As if Michael were always tired. Weary in both body and mind. What interested Brad was the sadness. Michael ached not for himself, but for others. For a blond woman whose image came into focus in Brad's mind. He knew it was Nikita.

"Michael...." Brad whispered, echoing the name that he spoke in his head. He was searching now for a connection to the other man. Didn't expect to locate him so much as feel him. To find Michael, Brad would need the operative's help. Pain began to shimmer on the edge of Brad's awareness and the images that had flickered in his head faded out. That surprised him for it had never happened before, but he clung to the thread of contact. It was then that he felt the coldness, it seeped into his flesh making him shiver. And with the cold came fear. Dark and oppressive.

"NO!" Brad shouted as he felt the fear slide into madness and the madness dragged him down into a black void. He tried to claw his way out but there was no escape. Brad cried out again and suddenly found himself falling. At least that's what his body believed.

"Brad?"

Eyes flickered open and the image of Madeline came into focus. Brad grimaced as he turned his head and realized he was in a white room, lying on a gurney.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up slowly.

Madeline shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me," she replied. "We found you collapsed in Michael's office. "You're heart rate was sluggish, but it's fine now."

"I feel like shit," Brad commented, as he swung his legs over the side of the gurney then stood up. He swayed a bit but waved off Madeline's support.

"Did you reach Michael?" she queried, getting straight to the point.

Brad shook his head, admiring Madeline's ability to focus without being sidetracked. "I think I reached him," he replied. "What's left of him."

Madeline felt herself grow pale at Brad's words. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her eyes turning black.

"I'm not sure," Brad allowed. "What I felt was unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It scared the hell out of me. It's scares Michael too. He's weak."

"Do you know where he is?" Madeline asked, as she began to pace the corners of the room.

Brad didn't answer for a moment. He was thinking back to what had happened, trying to sift through the images and the feelings he had experienced. A part of him was reluctant to enter that dark place again, but Brad knew he had no choice.

Madeline watched the bloodhound for a time, keeping silent. But when she saw him tremble she asked,

"What do you see?"

"Nothing," Brad whispered. "I feel cold..and fear. And darkness. It's terrifying and it's dragging me down. Into a void." Brad caught his breath as he felt the fear pulling at him again.

"You're all right," Madeline said softly. "Go on."

Brad shook his head as if to dispel the fear, then continued.

"I felt like I was drowning in the darkness, but something pushed me out of it."

Madeline was intrigued. "Something?" she repeated.

"Someone," Brad countered, as his eyes opened. "Michael."

"What now?" she asked,

Brad locked eyes with Madeline. "We try again," he announced.

Madeline allowed a soft smile to curve her lips. "Good," she whispered, then she turned and exited the room. "How is he?' he asked, his reverberating with suppressed anger.

Doctor Burns tried not to flinch from Gabriel's piercing gaze.

"His neurological synopses are responding well," he replied. "His body will recover."

"But?" Gabriel prompted, for he knew there was something the doctor wasn't telling him.

"But, Michael's brain synapses are...unresponsive," Doctor Burns announced.

Gabriel didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. "Explain it to me in layman's terms," he requested, his tone dangerously soft.

Doctor Burns swallowed hard. He knew that Gabriel would not be happy. "The simplest way I can explain it is that Michael's brain activity has...shut down."

"Are you saying he's brain dead?" Gabriel queried, and the mere thought made him shake with fury.

"No," Doctor Burns was quick to reassure employer. "Not brain dead...not medically or technically. But he's closed down. We can't reach him."

Gabriel felt relief wash over him. He had feared that all his efforts, everything that he and Galen had planned and hoped for, had been for naught. But now a smile curved his lips as he moved around to the side of the bed and stared down at Michael. Reaching out with one hand, Gabriel fingered a cinnamon curl.

"I know how to reach Michael," he whispered. Turning to the guard standing at the door, Gabriel ordered, "Bring me Nikita."

Nikita sat curled up in the corner of the room. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly about them, as she rocked back and forth. Suddenly she stiffened as she heard footsteps outside the door. There was the scrape of a dead bolt being pulled back, then the door swung open. Nikita stared at the person who entered and her eyes filled with unbidden tears. She associated this man with pain.

"No more..." Nikita whispered. But the man didn't listen. Cruel fingers dug into Nikita's arm and she was yanked to her feet then dragged out of the room. She no longer cared where she was going, all she wanted was oblivion. And maybe this time she would get lucky.

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

Nikita was surprised when she was ushered into what appeared to be a hospital room. Not in the image of Section One's medlab, but like an outside facility might be. Standing next to the bed was Gabriel, but Nikita's eyes only flickered over him. Lying in the bed was Michael. "No..." Nikita hissed, as she yanked free of the guard and ran forward. "Michael.." she breathed, reaching out with one had to touch his face.

Gabriel smiled as he watched Nikita's reactions. He watched her tremble, revealing the depth of her feelings for Michael. She would be able to bring him back, or no one could. And that was not acceptable.

"What have you done to him?" Nikita demanded. An ember of her old fire sparking in her eyes.

"What we've done doesn't concern you," Gabriel replied. "What you can do, that's what matters."

Nikita shook her head. "What are you saying?"

Gabriel locked eyes with the beautiful blond, and she was still beautiful in spite of the pain that had been inflicted upon her. "Michael is trying to hide, Nikita," he whispered. "Find him...and bring him back."

"Why?" Nikita challenged, tears filling her eyes. "So you can torture him some more? I won't."

"I think you will," Gabriel replied. Then he smiled, a cold curving of his lips before turning to leave the room.

Nikita watched him go, along with the doctors and the guards. The door closed and she was alone with Michael. There was a chair by the bed and Nikita sat down on the edge of it. A moment later she stood up again. Then she reached for Michael's hand. It felt cold and lifeless, symbolic of the way Michael saw himself. "I don't know what to do," Nikita whispered. "I don't you to die, Michael. But I don't think you want to live." She remembered when she had shot Michael's friend, Rene Dian. Shot him before Michael could be killed. And Michael's words to her. :::you should have let him do it:::: Sometimes those words haunted Nikita.

"Do you want to die, Michael?" she asked now, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. Nikita brushed her fingertips over Michael's lips, remembering the softness of them, and the taste of his kiss. A fragment of a memory better off forgotten. But Nikita could never forget how it had felt to be held by Michael's strong arms. To feel him deep inside her. To know that he was her safe haven in the darkness of the night. Because he was the night. And she was his light. Nikita knew this to be true, for Michael had whispered those words to her in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

Still holding Michael's hand, Nikita sank back down in the chair. With her free hand she wiped tears from her face. Then she lifted Michael's hand to her face and pressed it against her cheek. "Don't leave me, Michael," she whispered. "Don't leave me alone."

Michael felt pain but recognized that it was not his pain. Felt the warm wetness of tears, but they did not fall from his eyes. ::::Nikita::::: his mind whispered. But the sound seemed to echo painfully in the dark void of his mind. Or perhaps it was the blackness of his soul. Michael didn't know. A part of him didn't care. The darkness didn't frighten him now. He wasn't alone. Nikita was with him. Michael could feel her warmth, and sense the glow of her light. But he couldn't see it. Didn't want to see. He didn't want to go back. No more...his mind cried out. No more.

"Anything?" Madeline asked, as she rose from her chair. Brad shook his head. "Nothing helpful. At least, nothing that could help us find Michael," he ammended.

Madeline was intrigued. "What aren't you telling me?"

"There's been a change," Brad conceded, a smile lighting up his eyes. He watched a smile curve Madeline's lips and wondered if it ever reached her eyes. They were beautiful eyes, but cold. Not empty just...cold. "There's not as much darkness surrounding Michael now. And the fear has faded."

"What does that mean?" Madeline prompted.

Brad shrugged. "I have no idea," he replied. "But it's worth exploring." He sat down in a chair and stared up at Madeline. "I may be the means to find Michael, but if he makes it back to Section, I think you're going to need me."

Madeline frowned. "For what?" she challenged.

"To bring Michael back," Brad whispered. "From the other side."

"What other side?" Madeline queried, as she returned to her chair. She was intrigued by Brad's rather cryptic remarks.

He leaned forward in his chair and replied, "Freedom." With that Brad jumped to his feet and headed for the door. He knew that Madeline would wonder at his meaning and a smile threatened to split his face.

Madeline watched the door close behind Brad, then she leaned back in her chair, one fingernail idly tapping on her desk top. "Very clever, Mister Kinley," she drawled. But Madeline did not dismiss what he had said, even though she didn't entirely understand. It was only a matter of time before she did.

Gabriel watched Nikita on the monitors from his office. He felt a growing impatience that she did little more than sit there, holding Michael's hand. What she babbled at him made little sense to Gabriel, but he allowed it to continue for Doctor Burns assured him that Michael was showing a reaction. It was slight, but definitive. It was a start...enough to save Doctor Burns from death.

It appeared that Nikita was speaking to Michael again, so Gabriel reached for his coffee mug. Leaning back in his chair, he sipped from the lukewarm liquid while he listened.

'I wonder where you are right now," Nikita whispered, as she smoothed a lock of hair off Michael's forehead. She almost smiled as she studied his face. Far too pale, the skin somewhat clammy to touch, but he was still beautiful. A dark angel. That was Michael. What intrigued Nikita was his expression. "You look so peaceful," she said softly. "Like all your sorrow has been lifted. I remember seeing you smile once, a truly genuine smile. That time when we were in Section, waiting for Alex Chandler to call. You didn't understand the game I had played with him and were afraid he might not call. But I certain he would, quite cocky about it even.." Nikita paused to laugh as she remembered. "And when the phone rang you smiled. A real smile. I can see it as clear as day. It's my favorite image of you, Michael," Nikita confessed. "It's how I keep hope alive. Because I know that no matter what you say...or do...that you are human. That you have a soul. Because of that smile."

A tear trickled down Nikita's cheek as she bent to press a kiss to Michael's cheek. "Sometimes...I wonder...if maybe I'm the reason you stopped smiling," she whispered, then she wiped her face with the back of one hand. "You think that you give me only pain, but I throw it right back at you. And I do it with the intent to hurt. I don't even have the excuse that it's for the...job. I do it because I want you to suffer. I blame you for all the pain that Section has dumped on me. I know it's not right...but there it is." Nikita took one step back and sat down. Making her confession was like a cleansing of her soul, but it left her feeling empty and weak. And Nikita wondered if Michael heard any of it, and if he would care.

Just then, Nikita felt Michael's fingers flex in her hand. She gasped and stood up, leaning over him to see if his eyes would open. They didn't, but his fingers moved again. Nikita bit her lip, then she smiled. Michael must have heard her. Yet even as she had the thought, the monitor beside his bed went off. Nikita stifled a scream, then found herself shoved into a corner as doctors streamed into the room and began working over Michael.

Nikita slid down the wall and her arms hugged her legs. Resting her head on her knees she whispered, "Don't leave me, Michael." Over and over again, like a mantra.

"Damn..." Brad hissed. He rose from Michael's chair and looked at the doorway. No surprise to see Madeline standing there, Brad had felt her eyes upon him.

"What happened?" she asked.

Brad sighed and combed his fingers through his hair, spiking the fine strands. "I was almost connected to Michael," he announced. "Almost. There was a glimmer..."

Madeline took one step inside the room. "Do you think he's dead?" She asked the question then held her breath.

"No," Brad replied, firmly. "I would know."

"How?" Madeline queried.

Brad smiled. "I'd feel it." That said he stepped around the desk and left the room, feeling Madeline's eyes burning into his back.

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

Michael felt hands touching him. Not Nikita's touch. He was aware of what they were doing, and why. Felt his body slipping away from them as his mind had already done. Wondered if they could understand what was happening to him, and why. It was so easy to control his fate. Would be so easy to just fade away. Michael wanted that, wanted it desperately. Yet he clung to life. And knew why. Nikita. He felt her. Felt her fear and her pain. Felt her tears as she watched him die. She cried for him and Michael was surprised. Nikita didn't love him. Couldn't love him. Why would she care if he died? It was that question that drew Michael back more than anything. He had know why.

Doctor Burns nearly wept with relief when the heart monitor blipped again. He held his breath as he studied all the vital signs. They were weak but building back up to normal. He was stunned. By all rights Michael should have been dead by now. Doctor Burns sent up a silent prayer, and he didn't even believe in God.

Nikita held her breath as she listened to the change in the monitors. She slid up the wall to her feet then crossed over to the bed. A man stood in her way and she shoved him aside to get to Michael. He was so still and pale, yet when she took his hand Nikita felt warmth. Probably just her imagination, for Michael's skin was cold and clammy, but she believed in it. "Stay with me, Michael," Nikita whispered, and one hand reached out to touch his face. "I'm here...and I'm not going anywhere.

A part of Michael wanted to respond to Nikita, but he wasn't ready to go back. Not all the way. Yet neither would he seek oblivion again. It was too tempting to stay there. So Michael let himself feel Nikita's presence while he remained hidden in the darkness of his soul.

Twenty-four hours passed and Nikita remained at Michael's side. She choked down the food that was brought to her, only because she wanted to regain her strength. Nikita sensed that Michael might have need of it. So she ate and slept for his sake. She had been asleep in the chair, her fingers lightly clasped through Michael's when she felt him twitch. It brought her instantly awake. "Michael?" Nikita whispered, as she rose from the chair, ignoring the protest of stiff muscles. There was a soft light over the bed and she flicked it on. Michael was as still and silent as he had been before Nikita had dozed off. She quelled her frustration and reached out to smooth a cinnamon curl off his forehead. And in that moment Nikita saw his eyes flutter. "Michael..." she breathed, then she bit her lip as she saw his eyes blink open.

Gabriel was watching on the monitors and a smile curved his lips. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Good boy, Michael," he drawled. "Come back to us. There's so much I have planned for you. And for the future of Section One."

Nikita was unaware of being watched, and wouldn't have cared if she had known. Her entire focus was on Michael. "Hey there," she whispered, as tears filled her eyes. "I thought....I thought I'd lost you."

Michael listened to Nikita's words but did not respond. Couldn't at this point. Just opening his eyes and making them focus was exhausting him. The darkness was reluctant to release him, almost as reluctant as he was to go. So Michael blinked again then let his eyes close. It was enough for now. And he carried with him the image of Nikita's smile as darkness dragged him down into it's warm void.

"It's okay, Michael," Nikita whispered, as she bent to brush a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep...get strong again. I'll be here waiting for you." Nikita let her tears fall now as she slumped back into the chair. But her fingers remained clasped around Michael's. A part of her believed that she was his lifeline, and there was no way in hell that she would ever let him go again.

Brad had been sleeping, but it was a fitful slumber. It was barely five AM when he came awake and sat up in bed. Even as he rubbed his eyes, his mind was reaching out to Michael. In the past few days it had become habit. As second nature as breathing. But today was different. Today Brad felt Michael reaching back. It was a quick-silver moment, but definite. And strong enough to send Brad leaping out of bed to yank on jeans and a t-shirt. He stuffed his feet into sneakers then went flying out of his room. About a dozen operatives stared at Brad as he went racing down the corridor and into Michael's office. He dropped into the leather chair, then pressed his palms to the surface of the desk. It was here that he always felt Michael the strongest.

Michael whimpered in his head as he felt an invasion in his mind. It wasn't like when Galen would force her images on him. This was different, yet somehow familiar. His mind had been touched by this presence before. It wasn't frightening, yet it was probing, and in that moment images flashed in Michael's mind. Memories that he didn't remember burying.

Standard testing for a new recruit included ESP analysis. Michael had been told that he showed no aptitude and he heard the voice of the person who had said it. Madeline. The test had been forgotten. Not even when he had first connected to Galen had Michael thought of those tests. But now he remembered a face and a name. Spiky blond hair and eyes that smiled. Brad. It was his presence that Michael felt, only he didn't understand why. Michael wanted to be alone and he willed it to be so.

Brad rocked back in Michael's chair as if shoved by a strong hand. "Impressive...." he whispered to himself even as he grimaced. When he had tested Michael fourteen years ago, the other man hadn't shown the potential for telekinetic abilities. Of course, throughout the entire testing process, Michael had been reticent. Closing himself off to the invasion of Brad's mind. But Brad had recognized, even then, Michael's potential. Only his skills had been latent. Ever since the first incident with Galen, which had been instigated by LYNX, and was a fact that Section One never knew, Brad had been keeping tabs on Michael. They were connected in a way that would have surprised the operative. It was yet another thing that Section One was unaware of. LYNX had plans for Michael. So did Brad. His plans were to find the operative then send his people in to rescue him.