His leg moved in a high arc and kicked the heavy-bag again. Higher... stronger... one more time... He kept striking, his body twisting and turning gracefully. Another blow from his fist, another high kick, he kept going. Ignoring the dull pain beginning to form in his muscles, ignoring the sweat on his back, ignoring the man who stood in the corner of the room, arms folded over his chest, watching him silently.

Try harder, be better, achieve perfection... His body spun a hundred and eighty degrees counter-clockwise as he delivered the final blow. He paused for a second to catch his breath, then turned his gaze at his observer. The man regarded him with intent for several seconds, then moved from the corner.

"That will do for now," he said, "you may go and take a shower."

The young man nodded shortly and turned to leave the workout room, feeling his trainer's gaze burning into his back.

~ ~ ~

There was a knock on the door. Madeline raised her eyes from the report she was studying.

"Come in."

The door opened and a man entered. Madeline acknowledged him with a nod.

"Jurgen. Please, have a seat." The man sat down in front of her, gazing at her evenly. "Would you like something to drink?" she offered, wondering about the reason for his visit.

"No, thank you," he finally responded, voice deep and slightly raspy. "I'm here to talk to you about my newest recruit."

"Of course."

Madeline's face showed nothing of her thoughts, but she was surprised. Or intrigued maybe. Jurgen was an experienced enough trainer to manage on his own, especially in such an early stage of a recruit's training. She did not need to open the file to remember which recruit Jurgen was talking about: Michel Samuelle, or Michael, as he was called, age 21. Was a student at Paris University until he was convicted in a killing of dozens of people.

"What is it exactly that you wanted to talk about?"

"Michael is way above average," replied Jurgen, folding his arms casually over his chest. "I would like to accelerate his training."

"What do you suggest?"

"I'd say he should start tactics class. And maybe go out on a live mission. Nothing too serious, but I want to see how well he can cope in the field."

Jurgen was definitely impressed, Madeline mused. His face showed no emotion, but unless he was very impressed with his material's abilities, he wouldn't suggest tactics class and a live mission so early in the training.

"Very well. You may inform him that he begins tactics tomorrow at 1700. And when I find a suitable mission I’ll let you know."

"Thank you," he said politely, but made no move to leave. Clearly, there was more.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he said, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "I think he has the potential to be an excellent Valentine op."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. His physical attributes are… well-suited for this purpose," Jurgen said vaguely.

Madeline noted the professional formulation of the phrase, but suspected that there was more to the suggestion than Jurgen was saying. It was known to her that Jurgen was equally interested in both sexes. He evidently found Michael Samuelle attractive.

"I'm willing to oversee this training personally, in addition to the rest," he added.

I’ll bet you are, she thought. "As you wish. You’ll be in charge, but I'm assigning Judith Banks to work with you on this." She smiled slightly. "After all, you will need a woman for at least part of that training."

Jurgen nodded, and stood up to leave. "Thank you," he said formally.

"You're welcome."

~ ~ ~

"Michael."

Michael bowed to his opponent and turned to his trainer, who was observing him from the entrance to the gym, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.

"How are the sparring sessions going?" Jurgen asked, his eyes traveling over the young man's bare arms.

If Michael noticed his lingering gaze, he ignored it. "Fine."

In fact, as Jurgen saw just minutes ago, Michael had flattened his last four opponents, putting them on the mat in less than five minutes. Not that he would take credit for himself by admitting it.

"Very well." Jurgen advanced into the room and removed his black jacket, moving to stand in front of Michael on the exercise mat. "Show me what you've learned."

The two men bowed to each other and assumed combat positions. They started circling each other slowly. Jurgen attacked first, pushing Michael to the corner with a series of well-aimed kicks and punches. Michael dodged the last kick and grabbed Jurgen's leg, spinning it to the side, dropping him to the mat. Jurgen stood back on his feet and assumed position again.

This time, Michael was first to attack, advancing quickly and fluidly. Jurgen blocked one punch and landed a roundhouse kick on Michael's stomach. Michael dropped to the mat, out of breath, but managed to kick Jurgen's feet out from under him, bringing him down again.

They both stood up, eyes locked unwaveringly. They circled each other like hawks, slowly... Michael suddenly sprang forward and landed a kick on Jurgen's chest, pushing him to the wall. Jurgen felt a strange mixture of admiration and resentfulness as Michael cornered him. His young recruit was good. Very good... but not good enough.

Michael prepared to deliver a final kick, when Jurgen suddenly bent and swept Michael's feet from under him, turning his previous move against him, dropping him to the mat and grabbing him in a headlock. The battle was over, Jurgen had won.

Jurgen felt a strange satisfaction filling him as he held Michael's sweaty body. His heart beat quickly with excitement, his blood hummed in his ears. It had been a long time since he’d felt so… so.... alive. He listened to Michael's quick breaths as he fought to stay in control of the sensations that were flowing through his body. He abruptly released the younger man and allowed him to stand on his feet.

"You're good," he told him, "but you still have a lot to learn. I've decided to accelerate your training. Report to my office tomorrow at 0500 hours. Dismissed."

Michael nodded and left the gym without a word. Jurgen couldn't help but stare after his retreating form.

~ ~ ~

Jurgen stepped out of the shower, wiping his body brusquely with a towel, and pulled some clothes on. He was due to meet Judith in his office in ten minutes to discuss Michael's Valentine training. He still hadn’t told Michael what his accelerated training would include, but it didn't matter. He would know soon enough.

Jurgen arrived at his office with five minutes to spare, and waited patiently until there was a knock on the door. At his invitation, Judith Banks entered.

Judith Lindsey Banks was 33 years old, a Level 4 operative, and a master of Valentine missions. She had raven-black, straight hair, large eyes the color of midnight blue, and a voluptuous body… the stuff men’s fantasies were made of… She looked stunning in a royal blue skirt and tight black silk blouse.

"Jurgen." She nodded to him and sat in the chair in front of him, crossing her legs.

"Judith. Madeline has already briefed you about the material." It was not a question.

"Yes," Judith indicated a small panel in her hand, "I’ve read Michael’s file. He looks... promising, a magnificent physique, and with the proper training, he'll be irresistible."

Jurgen silently agreed. "What I need from you is help with the more... uh, shall we say, physical side of things. I'll be teaching him the basics."

Judith gave him an appraising look. "Why you, Jurgen? You're not a Valentine op.” Her instincts told her that Jurgen was somehow drawn to his recruit. But, she reasoned, Jurgen was a professional. He would never let personal feelings interfere with his job... or would he? There must be something exceptional about this one.

"He is a special case," said Jurgen casually. "I'm accelerating his training and I want to make sure he can handle it."

"Uh-huh. Whatever." Judith smiled and rose from the chair, smoothing down her skirt. "I have a mission to prep. So, when do we begin?"

"You can work with him day after tomorrow," Jurgen replied, checking Michael's training schedule. "0700?"

Judith considered for a moment. "Make it 0800 and I'll be there."

"Agreed. I'll see you here again in two days."

~ ~ ~

At 0500 hours sharp Michael knocked on Jurgen's office door. A voice from inside invited him to come in and he opened the door, stepping into the small room.

"Sit down, please," Jurgen said, in a tone that sounded more like an order than a request.

Michael sat, his face smoothed out to a perfectly blank mask. He recalled their sparring session of the previous day and it made him feel slightly uneasy. He suspected that Jurgen's actions towards him had not been entirely professional.

"As I said yesterday, your training is accelerated, starting now," Jurgen began. "You’ll report to tactics class later today. Expect to go out to your first live mission in the near future. Today we also begin a different part of your training. Do you know what Valentine operations are?"

The question instantly gave Michael a pause. Of course he knew. How could he not? He had heard about it only shortly after he was recruited… had heard whispers about himself… that his physical attributes belonged to the perfect Valentine op. The thought had made him somewhat queasy. But he would do whatever they asked of him, just like everything else he did. That would be just another part of the job.

"Yes," he heard himself answer.

"Good. I’ll be teaching you the basics, and an experienced Valentine op will take you through the rest. You’ll meet her tomorrow."

Michael felt a small wave of relief, though he wasn't sure why. It was common knowledge that male recruits were trained in Valentine ops by females, and vice versa. He couldn't be trained by Jurgen alone in this matter, right? He nodded silently, not knowing how else to respond.

"Now we begin your first lesson. Just sit back and relax."

~ ~ ~

Michael stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him, moving slowly towards his quarters. Well, it hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected, but it was mildly unpleasant. He was sure that if it were anybody else teaching him, he would feel much more comfortable. The way Jurgen looked at him made him nervous. His trainer’s eyes burned strangely as he taught him about the delicate art of seduction.

Michael opened the door to his quarters and lay down on his cot. He had fifteen minutes before martial arts class. He closed his eyes and recalled the lesson he had just had...

"One of the most important things about seduction," Jurgen said, "is touch."

Then Jurgen placed his hand atop Michael's. Michael, being surprised and slightly fidgety, jumped at the contact.

Jurgen removed his hand. "You see, things like that - you can't allow to happen. If the mark suspects that something is not right, the whole mission can be jeopardized. You must not let your personal feelings interfere with the job, just like in everything else." Jurgen looked at him in a serious face. "Let's try this again, and this time be ready."

He placed his hand again atop Michael's, and this time Michael sat still as a statue, muscles taut and unmoving, face a blank mask.

"Better. But don’t look so strained. Relax your body, focus on the job."

Jurgen spoke as his hand started moving in slow circles over Michael's. Michael took a deep breath and forced his body to relax, the strained muscles loosening a little.

"Good." Jurgen's hand resumed the slow movements, sliding over the back of Michael's hand, moving to touch his forearm.

Michael sat still, eyes fixed on Jurgen's face. The look in his trainer's eyes had been a familiar one, a look he had received from people since he was fifteen years old, a look as old as time. Plain, old-fashioned desire.

Michael opened his eyes and shook his head, forcing the memories out. His fifteen minutes were up, and he could not afford to be distracted at his next class. He got off the cot, stretched his weary muscles, and headed toward the gym.

~ ~ ~

Operations stood in van access silently watching the operatives as they returned from the mission. He observed the young recruit, Michael Samuelle, step out of the mission van supporting McDonald, a fellow operative with a gunshot wound in his leg. The mission had been a complete disaster. Was it because Samuelle, who was operating in the field for the first time in his life, far ahead of his training schedule, had screwed up so badly?

Operations peered impatiently into the van, looking for and not finding his mission leader. "Where is Robertson?" he asked with an undercurrent of irritation.

"Dead." The answer came from Michael, who had just relinquished the injured McDonald to the care of the medics.

"Care to explain how that happened?" snapped Operations. He wasn't pleased. This was supposedly a simple enough mission. If the abysmal result was the recruit's fault, he would send him quickly down the road to Abeyance.

"The opposition had more backup than we were prepared for. Robertson was taken down," Samuelle elaborated, standing with his hands clasped in front of him. It was only then that Operations noticed that Michael’s hand was bleeding.

"Get to Medical, then report to Madeline's office for your debrief," he said shortly. "Dismissed."

~ ~ ~

"Come in," Madeline responded to the knock on the door, already knowing who was standing behind it. The door opened and Michael Samuelle entered. Madeline noticed that his right hand was heavily bandaged.

"Have a seat, please," she said, turning away from her computer, giving him her complete attention. "I want you to explain to me how such a simple mission failed so miserably," she stated, without introduction. "Needless to say, your life is on the line here."

"The profile was flawed." The answer came without a moment’s hesitation.

Of all the things Madeline expected he would say, this was not one of them. And Madeline was rarely surprised. It was very rare that a young recruit, who had begun tactics class less than two weeks ago, would claim that a mission profile, prepared by one of Section One's experienced profilers, was flawed. He was either very sure of himself, or very foolish.

"Flawed. How so?" Formulating Michael’s psych profile was becoming very complex.

"The backup team was positioned in the wrong place. They should have been guarding the outside, not the inside."

"By Section standard procedures, they were profiled exactly where they should have been, close to the vulnerable point. The failure more likely resulted from poor execution by the team members."

Michael ignored the suggestion that his performance was lacking and continued. "The inside of the building was ridiculously easy to penetrate. It seemed obvious that there would be a stronger defense on the perimeter."

Madeline regarded him in slight amazement. He was good. Very good. Perhaps it was time for a little test of his abilities.

"And I suppose you would have done a better job."

Michael didn’t answer, only returned her piercing gaze.

Madeline thought for a moment, and then turned to her computer, typing swiftly.

"There’s something I want you to do." She bent slightly and retrieved a disk from the drive.

"Here is the intel for a mission that is supposed to go live three days from now. I want you to study it and design a profile accordingly." She handed him the disk. He took it with his uninjured left hand. "You have twenty four hours."

Michael nodded, taking his cue to leave. As he opened the door, somewhat awkwardly with his injured hand, Madeline asked one last question.

"How's your hand?"

"It’s… fine."

Madeline waited until he left, then pressed the button on her comm unit.

"Yes?" Paul sounded impatient.

"I've just finished Michael’s debrief. Would you like to discuss it?"

"Of course," replied Operations, "I'll be right there."

~ ~ ~

Madeline inserted the disk into the drive and opened the details of the profile Michael had designed. Although no doubt tired from the mission he participated in, he managed to complete the profile and hand it to her about eighteen hours after she had given him the intel. He was quick, a most valued attribute in Section. But quickness was futile without thoroughness. She started scanning the explanations and sketches interestedly. It certainly looked good, but she wanted a more professional opinion.

She retrieved the disk and left her office, heading towards DRV. She knew that was the most probable place to find the man she was looking for, although she always wondered why he preferred to spend his time in one of the dullest spots in Section.

She entered DRV, passing between occupied operatives hunched over their keyboards, until she located the man she was looking for. He was leaning over an operative at one of the computer consoles, talking to him in an arrogant tone. Madeline stopped in front of him.

"Myers."

Keith Myers was one of the best profilers ever in Section One. Being only twenty-five, he was younger than most, extremely over-confident, like most of the profilers, and a genius at tactics. The young man raised his eyes.

"Madeline. What did I do to deserve the honor?"

"I’d like you to take a look at something," she replied with a small smile, handing him the disk.

"Sure. No problem." He moved to an available station and shoved the disk into the drive. His fingers flew over the keyboard, opening several files. "So, what's in it?"

"It's a suggested profile to the Karrerah mission. I want your professional opinion."

"Sure, just give me a sec." He leaned close to the screen, scanning quickly through the files. After several minutes, he leaned back, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the edge of his shirt. He gave Madeline a piercing look. "Who designed it?"

"What do you think about it?" she evaded his question.

"Well, I don't recognize the style, so it can't be any of our profilers. It does seem a little bit more ambitious than I usually like, but I couldn't have done a better job myself. I'm willing to bet that whoever designed it is a real pro." He looked at her again, his eyes questioning. "So, who is it? Someone from Section Two? Whoever the designer is, I'd love to meet him, or her."

Madeline decided to throw him a bone. "What if I told you that the designer is a recruit, less than two weeks into tactics?"

Myers smirked. “Impossible! This is a very professional job." He studied Madeline's face. "You're not kidding. A recruit? Who's only beginning to study tactics? If that's the case, then the guy is a real talent. I think he has a great future as a profiler. What’s his name?"

Madeline smiled her enigmatic smile again. "Thank you, Myers."

~ ~ ~

Madeline stepped into Operations' aerie.

He turned to her. "Yes, Madeline?"

"Michael Samuelle had gave me his suggested profile to the Karrerah mission."

Operations frowned. "Already? I thought you gave him twenty-four hours."

"I did. He finished earlier. Impressive, considering that he just came back from an exhausting mission."

"How is it, then?"

"I had Myers look at it. He said it's flawless."

"Flawless?" Operations turned to her in surprise. “From a recruit?"

"Yes, I think his exact words were 'a little bit more ambitious than I usually like, but I couldn't have done a better job myself'. He was very impressed."

"Interesting," Operations looked down from the perch thoughtfully. "Is it possible he had help?"

"From studying Michael's files, I'm convinced he did not ask for help from anyone. He's ambitious. He would want to prove himself."

"Where is he in his training cycle?"

"Jurgen had asked to accelerate his training. He’s now learning tactics and being trained in Valentine Ops."

"So early?"

"Jurgen thinks he's up for it. And, frankly, so do I."

Operations nodded. “Then I want to keep a close watch on him. It seems to me that we have a rare new talent. It would be a shame to hold him back."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I want a weekly report on his progress, beginning today."

"I'll see to it immediately."

~ ~ ~

Three weeks later, Operations stood in his office, examining Madeline’s latest report on Michael Samuelle's progress. He had to admit, the young man was very talented indeed. His marks in all areas were excellent, sometimes better that those of more experienced veteran operatives.

The report showed immense talent in Martial arts, extremely high intelligence, almost psychic sense in profiling and tactics, natural leadership skills... almost too good to be true. Almost. The one area that seemed to be a bit lacking was Valentine training.

Operations pressed a button to learn who Michael's trainers were in this particular subject. After a second, the information appeared. Operations frowned slightly. Jurgen, Judith Banks. Two superb trainers. Judith's report proclaimed that although the recruit's physical virtues and natural animal magnetism were a perfect base for an outstanding Valentine Op, he was a little... inhibited.

No matter… Operations wasn't worried. Michael Samuelle's other talents more than compensated for this one weak area. And if his other marks were any indication, this weakness, too, would be overcome sooner or later. Operations closed the report and pressed a button to his left.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have Michael Samuelle come to my office right away."

"Yes, sir, immediately."

Less than four minutes later, Michael Samuelle appeared in the doorway, dressed in standard training clothes. He had obviously been in the middle of Martial Arts class.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked politely

"Yes, Michael, please come in." Operations said formally.

Michael stepped inside and stood with his feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind him in something that resembled a military stance.

"I've reviewed your records for the past three weeks. They're very impressive." Michael just stared at him silently, so he continued. "I know that your training has been accelerated, but I would like to give you some hands-on experience. Do you think you can handle more live missions?"

"Yes."

Such a simple answer, with no trace of arrogance, but with deep self-assurance. Operations appreciated that.

"Understand that the better you get, the more will be expected from you. I have full confidence on your abilities," Operations proceeded, examining the recruit's impassive face closely. "I will discuss further details with your trainers. Dismissed."

~ ~ ~

"Hi, kid." Walter put down the gun he was cleaning and raised his eyes to look at the young recruit.

"Hello Walter," Michael replied tonelessly, placing his weapons in front of the older man.

"Mission went well?"

"We got what we needed."

"That's good to hear."

Walter examined Michael carefully. The expression on the young man's face was unreadable as he removed his comm gear quickly and efficiently. This recruit was a rising star. Rumor had it that Operations himself had taken him under his very powerful, very influential wing. Walter knew that the young man had been out on a high number of missions lately… very high, actually, for a recruit in such an early stage of training. But, then again, this one was a very special case.

By the whispers he had heard in Section, Michael was on accelerated training, and doing extremely well, despite the mounting workload. And he was so young… a kid, really. The recruit was clearly not a man of many words, but Walter found that he liked the younger man. There was something behind that eerie, blank gaze of his... something that showed strength and pride. Confidence, too. Michael looked like a man who was used to doing everything the best way he could. Section needed people like that. But he was so... closed off somehow. So distant from everybody.

"So, tell me kid, what are you doing tonight?" Walter asked casually.

"Training."

"How about you take a little break from training for one night, eh? A couple of us are going out for a few drinks. Would you like to join us?"

"I'm not allowed to leave Section."

"I’ll bet I could work it out for you. What do you say?"

"No. Thank you." Michael placed his last item on the counter and left without a word, eyes averted.

Walter sighed. He had tried several times to draw Michael out of his shell, to make him loosen up a bit, but the young man was always politely declining. Walter just hoped that Michael would find friends, that he’d allow himself to talk to somebody other than Jurgen, Madeline and Operations.

Michael walked quickly down the long corridor. After a five-minute shower, he had very little time to get to Jurgen's office in time for another Valentine session. In the beginning, Valentine training had been nothing short of a weekly torture. But he was adapting quickly, and it became almost bearable. But not today.

The long mission had exhausted him, and a slow headache was beginning to develop. He was not about to complain, though. Michael had learned early in his training that weaknesses were not acceptable in Section One, even when they were, without a doubt, not one’s own fault. He was determined to ignore the sensation that was clearly due to a lack of sleep. He arrived at his destination and knocked politely on the door, stepping inside after a voice invited him in.

~ ~ ~

"… when you speak to a mark, you have to make them believe that you're interested in whatever they're saying, no matter what you really think. Most importantly, you have to…"

Jurgen stopped abruptly and scrutinized Michael's face. He looked distracted, displaying none of his usual superb concentration. Michael blinked, noticing that Jurgen had stopped speaking, and that his eyes were now fixed on his own with an inquiring look.

"Is everything OK?" Jurgen asked.

"Yes."

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

Jurgen stared at Michael silently. It was obvious that these questions were getting him nowhere. What could be bothering him? Was Valentine training beginning to wear him out? No.. that wasn’t it. He did not look disinterested, just… well, just plain tired.

"How was the Siberia mission?" Jurgen asked casually.

"Okay."

"When did you get back?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Would you prefer I rescheduled this session so you could get some rest?"

"I'm fine."

Jurgen sighed silently and leaned forward in his chair, noting with satisfaction that Michael instantly looked more alert.

"Listen, Michael," he began, "operatives are greatly appreciated if they can push themselves hard even when they’re tired, hungry, or distracted." Jurgen paused to give Michael another intense look. "But they’re smarter and live longer if they know what their limits are. If you're not sure you can make it, it’s better to admit weakness than jeopardize a mission."

"I said I'm fine." Michael's voice suddenly had a steely edge to it.

Ah… the word weakness is what triggered it. Jurgen smiled discreetly to himself. He had already noticed that one of the things Michael couldn't stand was being weak, or appearing weak. It seemed that Michael thought that Jurgen considered him weak right now, and found it unacceptable. Good.

"I know what you said, but since you’re my material, I'm the one calling the shots." Jurgen said coldly. "Go back to your quarters and get some rest. We'll proceed when you're back up to a hundred percent. Dismissed."

Michael didn’t move.

"I said you're dismissed," Jurgen repeated harshly. "Don't test my patience."

Michael stood, his face revealing nothing, but his tension evident in the way he held his hands - clenched in tight fists. He gave Jurgen one last look and left the room.

~ ~ ~

Jurgen sat silently in the cramped airplane seat and tried to organize his scattered thoughts. The last three hours had been crazy. Right after he’d sent Michael to his quarters to get some sleep, he’d received an urgent call from Madeline, summoning him to her office immediately. The events since then had been a blur…

"The situation in Southeast Asia has reached a breaking point, and the Balkans team needs immediate backup." she had told him. "A team is leaving for Asia in fifteen minutes and you're leading it. Your team members will arrive as soon as Ops finishes the briefing."

"Understood. Is that all?"

"No," came Madeline's reply, "there is one more thing. We’re short-handed right now, so I'm assigning Michael to the Balkans team. They leave in one hour."

Jurgen could feel his muscles clench. "What is the nature of this mission?"

"Retrieval mainly. The current team needs assistance."

"He's not ready," he said with a calm he did not feel. "He’s only experienced in simple field recons and intel gathering. It's too early."

"Is that what you think?" Her eyes bored into his. "I disagree. He shows great potential in all areas and I believe he can do this." Her eyes were like laser beams scanning his mind. "Do you regret your earlier assessment of his abilities?"

"Of course not," he replied, too quickly, "but he just came back from an exhausting mission. He needs to rest or he'll break and make mistakes."

"That may be true, but as I said, we're short on available manpower right now." She turned her back to him, giving him the impression he was dismissed. "Have Michael get ready. The briefing is in twenty minutes. Make sure he’s there on time."

With many objections but nothing to be done about them, Jurgen walked down the corridor to Michael's quarters. He stopped next to the door and pressed a button. As the metal door slid soundlessly open, Jurgen was greeted by the sight of Michael, clad only in black sweatpants, laying on his back on his cot, eyes closed.

Jurgen just stood there for several seconds, feeling a hollow ache in his chest. His praised recruit now looked so young, so vulnerable… And yet, he was proving to be an excellent operative. And because of that excellence he was being pushed too hard. Jurgen crossed the room, then crouched next to the cot.

"Michael…" he called quietly. When Michael didn't move, he placed his hand on his shoulder, noticing how warm the smooth skin was, and shook him a little, "Michael, wake up."

Michael's eyelids moved, then opened at once, squinting slowly at Jurgen.

"You’ve been assigned to another mission. Briefing is in fifteen minutes." He removed his hand from Michael's shoulder.

Michael stood up slowly, looking a little disoriented and turned to pick his clothes up. He started to pull his shirt on and Jurgen took it as his cue to leave.

"I'm leaving for a mission as well," he said, as he stood at the door, his back to Michael. When he received no response he turned to face his recruit.

"Be careful," he said finally, and opened the door. As he left, he was surprised and disconcertingly pleased to hear Michael's reply.

"You, too."

Now he was sitting on a plane, flying to Asia, busy thinking about things he wasn't supposed to think about... things related to a mission, but not the one he was currently leading.

~ ~ ~

Walter leaned back in the cramped mission van and sighed heavily. He had been sent to the Balkans with the team of field ops to monitor the tracking equipment and assist with the radar system. Usually, younger ops did that job while he was safely observing from Section. But the shortfall in personnel demanded that he be in the field.

He looked around at the sleeping operatives. All so young, barely kids, and already putting their lives on the line constantly. His eyes stopped on a sleeping figure, curled in the corner, fast asleep. Michael Samuelle. His actions today in the field had helped the team a great deal.

Michael was the first to locate the weak signal from the trapped team's trackers. He was also the one to warn the team leader of the possibility of an ambush in a particularly hard to defend area on the mountain.

Walter knew, that while most operatives slept off the aftermath of the mission, Michael Samuelle rarely did so. Walter had heard this from older field ops who constantly wondered aloud how he could hold on.

But it seemed that today, the mission had taken it's toll on him, and he'd fallen asleep almost immediately after the van started moving.

Walter wriggled a little on the bench to find a better position and closed his eyes. They had several hours drive ahead of them… might get some sleep as well.

Five hours later, Walter woke as they slid into Van Access. The others were stirring as well, stretching weary muscles, moving slowly out of the van. As Walter gathered his equipment, he noticed that Michael hadn’t moved. He was still curled up in the corner of the van. Unlike him, but Walter was not surprised. Michael must have been exhausted.

"Hi kid, time to get up," he called over his shoulder, picking up the last item. Michael still was not moving. Walter replaced the equipment on the bench and moved closer to the slumbering figure. He took hold of Michael’s shoulder and shook him a little.

"Michael, we're back in Sec-" his voice trailed off as he noticed that Michael's body was hot beneath his fingers. "Michael?" Walter shook him harder, then touched his forehead to find that he was burning with fever.

And then he realized. Michael wasn't asleep, he was unconscious.

~ ~ ~

Walter paced restlessly in the hall outside of Medlab. Michael was brought in, unconscious and with an extremely high fever, over an hour ago, and the doctors were still examining him. Madeline was inside. Through the round window in the heavy metal door, Walter observed her speaking with the physician in charge. Her expression gave no indication about Michael's condition.

Walter was worried. For some reason, he had taken a liking to the young, closed-off recruit, and the thought that he could be dying saddened him a great deal. He then saw Madeline turn and walk towards the door. He stepped back and patiently waited. Madeline walked through the door, expression unreadable. Walter approached her quickly.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He has pneumonia," she said directly, no trace of emotion in her voice.

"Will he be OK?"

"The doctors believe so. He's a strong young man, and even though he probably had been ill for several days, the doctors think they caught it in time."

"How long will he stay in?"

"Several days. Two weeks, most likely."

Walter sighed, looking at the still figure in a hospital bed through the window, "Poor kid…".

Madeline gave a small smile. "Don't worry Walter. He's strong and stubborn. I have every confidence that he'll recover quickly."

With that she walked away, leaving Walter wondering what had made her so optimistic for a change.

~ ~ ~

Eight days later, Madeline stepped into Ops' office, hands clasped behind her back.

"Good morning, Madeline," said Section One's leader, frowning into the vid-screen on front of him. "Any news about the Asia situation?"

"Not stable, but contained for now. The team is due back in two, maybe three days."

"I see. Is there anything else that needs my attention at the moment?"

"As a matter of fact, there is."

"What is it?"

Madeline stepped closer to him, knowing that what she was about to say would raise objections, but determined to make him listen.

"Michael Samuelle has been in Medlab for over a week with pneumonia. During that time, no one has come to visit him except for myself, and Walter."

Operations averted his eyes from the screen to hers. "Do you think I should do anything?"

"Yes. You could go visit him, say a few words, wish him a speedy recovery."

"Oh?" he said skeptically, "and do you suggest I sent him a greeting card and a bouquet of flowers as well?"

"This is not what I'm saying. He has been your prized student. I think you should at least show him that you care."

Operations waved a hand impatiently. "I'm too busy as it is. I have no time to play doctor to sick operatives. Doesn’t he have friends to cheer him up?" He gazed at her. "What about his trainer?"

"Michael does not have friends, having no time to make any with his busy schedule. Jurgen is in Asia, leading the team. He's unaware of Michael's condition."

Operations sighed. "Do you really think it's necessary?"

"I do."

"Fine. I'll go see him today."

~ ~ ~

Michael's eyes opened slowly. He blinked, trying to adjust to the penetrating harsh lighting. His head hurt and his chest was burning. It was his eighth day in Medlab, and he was beginning to hate the place. The last thing he remembered clearly was entering the van after the mission, feeling worse than ever.

He had blurry memories of the doctors examining him, telling him he had pneumonia, and that he would have to stay in Medlab for a while. Walter had come by to see him, and although he hadn't told him so, Michael was grateful for the visits. They made the loneliness and helplessness a little easier to bear. He felt terribly useless lying around with tubes poking him everywhere.

There was a loud laughing noise from the next room, and Michael turned his head to have a look. Brian Griffith, a field op who had a knife wound in his thigh, had been in Medlab for the last two days. During those two days he was constantly being visited by fellow operatives. Michael always felt strange when he saw them. A little sad. Not that he minded. In Section One, making friends was only going to hurt you in the end. But still, it seemed that Brian felt much better after a visit from his friends.

Michael sighed and closed his eyes, hoping to get a bit of sleep despite the pain in his head and lungs. He heard the door to Medlab open and cursed silently. Probably another one of Brian's friends. But then he heard footsteps next to his bed, and as he opened his eyes, was surprised to see who was standing there.

Operations looked at the apparently sleeping operative. He was pale, his hair mussed, and dark shadows were visible under his eyes. There was an IV line in Michael's arm and a thin tube under his nose, across his face.

Operations knew, from an earlier conversation with the doctors, that Michael's condition was much worse several days ago. They had to use an oxygen mask to help him breathe. But he was improving rapidly. As he watched, Michael's eyes opened, and for a second, Operations saw a glimmer of surprise in the young man's green eyes.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hello, Michael."

"Hello."

The young man's voice was hoarse and raspy, the result of his illness and a long time without speaking, Ops suspected.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

Ah. Of course.

"Your performance during the mission was extraordinary," he continued. "I hope to see you back on your feet soon."

"Thank you."

Operations let his eyes wander, noticing the small group of people next to Griffith's bed and the obvious sounds of laughter. He averted his eyes back to Michael and saw him glance at the cheery group for a second, then look away. He felt a pang of regret. Maybe Madeline was right, maybe he was feeling lonely. He made a quick decision.

"Michael, when you get out of here, I'll authorize a day of downtime… call it a token of our appreciation. It’s a little premature for a recruit, but you've earned it."

"Thank you," Michael said again.

"Of course, you'll be required to be back in Section before dark, and you'll have to inform us of where you plan to be, but it is downtime. Enjoy it while you can." He looked at Michael for several more seconds. "Get well, Michael." With that he left the room, hoping it was a good idea.

Michael stared at Operations as he left, feeling strangely depressed. Somehow, Ops' little 'get well' visit made him feel even worse. Instead of cheering him up, the visit reminded him of just how alone he really was.

~ ~ ~

Jurgen could barely wait until they arrived at Van Access. The mission had succeeded despite terrible conditions, a hell of bad weather, malfunctioning equipment, and incompetent operatives. He was very glad to be back. He stepped quickly into Section, coming face to face with Madeline.

"Hello Jurgen. How did the mission go?" she started immediately.

"There were some glitches," he replied, "but it was completed successfully."

"So I've been told. Congratulations, you did very well."

They started walking down the hall, heading toward Ops' office. Jurgen knew he would be debriefed thoroughly before they’d let him get some rest.

"How many injuries?" Madeline queried, interrupting his thoughts.

"Three, but mild. Two operatives have a cold, and one has a dislocated shoulder. The team is relatively intact."

"Good." Madeline stopped walking and stood, facing him. "There's something you should know."

"What is it?" He didn't like the tone of her voice, and wondered what bad news she was going to give him now.

"It's about Michael."

"What about him?" His heart started beating frantically inside his chest. Had something happened to him? Did something go wrong during the mission?

"Something happened. When he returned from the Balkans, he passed out in the mission van and was taken to Medical."

"And?" he asked, failing to hide an undercurrent of anxiety in his tone.

"He was diagnosed with pneumonia. He’s been in Medlab for nearly two weeks. He was just released yesterday."

Jurgen sighed an inaudible sigh of relief. Michael was OK, then. Why did he care so much, anyway? Being in Section was dangerous. People died all the time. Of course, Michael was his material, which set him apart from the others, but still…

Madeline resumed walking and he joined her, making his way to the debrief.

~ ~ ~

Three weeks later…

"Madeline, please come in."

She stepped into the perch. "You wanted to see me."

"Yes." Operations turned to glance at her, then returned his look to the large window, puffing on his cigarette. "It’s about Michael Samuelle."

"I see."

Lately, she had been hearing a lot about Michael Samuelle. He was entering Phase Two of his accelerated training, and she was a little concerned about the way things were progressing. Michael was barely given downtime, working around the clock in martial arts, combat training, tactics, and more. In all, he excelled.

But she thought that things were moving a little too fast. Operations was determined to push him hard and grant him full operative status way ahead of schedule. It was clear that he wanted Michael to start leading teams in the near future.

"What about him?" she asked finally, when Ops didn't say a word.

"He is progressing in his Valentine training. Jurgen thinks he's ready for a field test."

“What do you think?”

“I see no problem. Perhaps you’d like to question him yourself.” Operations clicked a button in the panel in front of him. "Jurgen, my office, please."

"Yes, sir," replied a gruff voice.

One minute later, Jurgen stepped into the perch.

"Jurgen," Madeline was the first to speak, "I understand you want to field-test Michael in Valentine Ops."

"Just an easy test, really," he replied, crossing his hands over his chest and leaning back against the window. "I’ve designed a profile. It's in my computer. You can take a look."

Madeline stepped to the computer console in the perch’s alcove and clicked quickly, uploading and examining the profile.

Interesting. But not unexpected, she thought.

"I see," she said aloud. "It’s simple enough. I’ll agree to allow it. When are you planning on doing this?"

"Day after tomorrow."

Operations nodded. "Very well. You may proceed."

"Thank you, sir." Jurgen left the room.

~ ~ ~

Michael took a deep breath and wiped suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. This was it. In less than five minutes he would be stepping out of the Section van to begin his first Valentine mission. Although it was just a sim, and wouldn't take more than thirty minutes, Michael felt like it was a real mission. And on so many levels, it was. He was expected to excel. Only flawless performance was acceptable.

The van slowed and finally stopped near a popular small club. Michael stood, took another fortifying breath, and stepped outside.

Inside the club, Jurgen sat on a high chair next to the bar, sipping slowly on a whiskey. He glanced at his watch and noted that the time was eight forty-five. Michael was due in any minute now. He felt strangely nervous. He was also curious to know how Michael would handle the 'situation' they’d arranged… whether his performance in the field would be as perfect as it was in the confines of Section One.

The sim would test much more than Michael's Valentine skills. It would also test how well he could improvise, adjust to sudden changes in profile. It would indeed be interesting to watch. Jurgen leaned back slightly and brought the glass to his lips.

In a few minutes, we'll know…

~ ~ ~

Ten minutes later, Judith Banks stepped confidently into the night club. She knew she was quite a vision in a skin-tight maroon silk dress. A fair number of heads swiveled in her direction as she walked slowly through the room. She easily spotted Jurgen, seated next to the bar, and Michael, also near the bar, but on the other side, as profiled. Jurgen was there just to observe… for now.

She examined Michael's figure discreetly. He certainly looked stunning tonight, most definitely a heart-breaker. He was wearing tight black jeans. The two open top buttons of his white shirt revealed a hint of smooth skin over sleek muscle, and his hair was charmingly disheveled. The black leather jacket made him seem dangerous. Breathtaking.

She noticed quite a few women eyeing him with interest, and some men as well. One man in particular seemed unable to take his eyes off of him, and Judith doubted it had much to do with his observation duty. She walked a little faster, determined to reach Michael before any of the other women made a move. In several long graceful strides she reached the bar and slid into the chair next to him.

"Hi," she said, smiling seductively.

Jurgen tapped gently on his earpiece, switching channels to be able to listen to the conversation.

"Hi," said Michael soft voice. Jurgen could see him cracking a sexy half-smile at Judith.

"You look lonely," she said playfully. "Buy me a drink?"

"With pleasure." Michael leaned his head on his hand and looked at her through half-closed eyes. "And what would the lady desire?"

Judith gave a slow laugh. "Surprise me."

Michael signaled to the bartender with an elegant flick of his hand. The man was there instantly. "What can I get for you?"

"Red wine for the lady, please. Semi-dry."

"Sure. One second."

Michael's jade eyes ran slowly over Judith's figure, then stopped on her eyes with an appreciative look. "My name is Michael…" his smile widened just a bit "…and you are?"

"Judith. Pleased to meet you."

His hand lifted hers as he slowly slid it toward his lips.

Very good, she thought, but it's time to reveal the cards.

"Be careful," she whispered, stilling his hand, "or people might get the wrong impression."

She saw a hint of confusion, of insecurity, in Michael's eyes as he examined her expression.

"Wrong… impression?"

"Yes. We've made a small change in the profile." Judith released her hand from his and reached for her wine glass, sipping the ruby liquid.

Michael looked at her with a questioning glare. "And the change is?" he asked very quietly, leaning on the bar, turning away from her, seemingly disinterested.

"You see Michael, I’m not your mark tonight." She placed her glass back on the counter and touched his arm gently to get his attention. "He is."

Michael was silent as Judith nodded in Jurgen's direction.

Judith's voice seemed to reach him through a sudden fog in his mind. "When the people in the bar see me walk away from you, I have no doubt they'll understand why."

Michael looked back at her and she smiled sweetly.

"No man would let a woman like me walk away so easily, unless…"

There was no need for her to complete the sentence. Michael already knew: unless he was turning in the other direction. He felt a twinge of panic.

"But… this isn't…"

"…a gay bar? No, it isn’t. But it is decidedly gay-friendly, as you surely must have observed." Judith casually indicated two girls swaying close together off to the side of the dance floor, and two men intimately talking in a dark corner.

How convenient.

~ ~ ~

Michael sat frozen for several seconds before catching himself, then nonchalantly sipped on his drink. Just before she walked away, Judith advised him to move quickly before anybody else made a move on him, either a man or a woman.

He was suddenly angry. How could they do this with no warning whatsoever, without telling him anything? Of course, he realized it was part of the test - the surprise factor. But he was still angry.

You see Michael, I’m not your mark tonight, he recalled Judith's words, he is…

Michael made a quick decision. He finished his drink in one gulp. It made his head spin for a moment as he rose from his chair. He would do more that complete his test successfully. He would excel at it.

Jurgen felt his approach. He didn’t see Michael, as he was looking in the other direction, nor did he hear him over the loud music, but he knew. He couldn’t explain it, yet he felt it deep in his bones. He heard Michael pull on a chair and sit next to him, and only then, turned his eyes to look at him.

Up close, Michael looked even better than at a few meters' distance. The white shirt accented his tanned skin and clear jade eyes, and his jeans molded to his hips with perfection. Jurgen had seldom seen a man this attractive. And at such a close range. He couldn't help but stare a little.

"Hi." Michael's voice was slightly husky, seductive.

"Hi," Jurgen replied, doing his best to sound uninterested. He’d decided he wasn’t going to make this too easy for him.

"You look lonely," said Michael, mimicking Judith's earlier words.

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Does that mean you don't want company?"

Jurgen finally turned his gaze to meet Michael's eyes and found them focused attentively on him, giving him his undivided attention. He was doing very well at this, implementing everything he’d learned in Valentine training, to the very last detail. Jurgen blinked, breaking the spell Michael's eyes were casting.

"That depends…"

"Depends…? On what?"

"What did you have in mind?" Jurgen asked, more nervously that he intended.

Michael sensed Jurgen’s apprehension, and leaned back slightly, smiling that sexy half-smile again, raising his hands in a gesture of mock innocence. "All I want is a drink…" there was a devilish gleam in his eyes, "… for now."

Jurgen swallowed, reluctantly admitting that Michael's tactics were highly effective. Even though Jurgen knew it was just a ‘sim’, a game, make-believe, he was having a hard time staying indifferent.

"Ok, then. For now," he replied.

Michael noticed Jurgen’s empty glass, and as Jurgen raised his hand to summon the bartender, Michael placed a hand on his arm, stilling the movement.

"Allow me.”

He ordered two glasses of brandy… very good brandy, judging by its price. After two snifters were placed in front of them, Michael raised his and touched it to the one Jurgen held.

"Salut," he said, taking a sip from the amber-colored liquid.

"What are we drinking to?" Jurgen challenged, sipping as well, enjoying the rich flavor.

"To… tonight," Michael smiled. They sat drinking in silence for several moments, then Michael spoke again. "I don't know your name yet."

"And I don’t know yours," Jurgen replied, determined to hold his own. "You first."

"Fair enough. Michel Samuelle."

Michel. Jurgen was surprised as Michael gave his French name. He knew with sudden clarity that Madeline would have a field day over this conversation.

"Nice to meet you, Michel." The name sounded strangely intimate as he uttered it. "Jurgen." He offered his hand.

"Jurgen," Michael nodded, sliding his hand into his ‘mark’s’and shaking it. "The pleasure is mine."

Jurgen felt faintly embarrassed as Michael's hand lingered in his after they shook. Well, maybe not really embarrassed, maybe just a bit overwhelmed. Michael’s touch felt good, his skin slightly calloused and warm. The conversation died as their hands parted.

"So, Michel, what do you do for a living?" Jurgen asked, trying to break the silence that was uncomfortably overpowering.

"Do you really care?" Michael's voice was low, dangerous.

"Just… making conversation."

"I have a better idea. How about… a dance?"

"You said just a drink."

"I said ‘for now’," Michael's eyes seemed to change to a smoky, dark green color, "and ‘now’ I've changed my mind." He stood and extended a hand to Jurgen. “Please?"

Jurgen recognized a challenge when he saw one, and Michael was definitely challenging him. So he gave a seductive smile of his own and took Michael's hand.

"Lead the way."

~ ~ ~

Judith watched them from the corner of her eye. She had heard the entire conversation through her comm unit, and had to admit that Michael was doing an excellent job. Shortly after she left Michael's side, she was surrounded by a small group of males, all eager to try their luck. She finally decided on the one that looked the least annoying, and allowed him to buy her a drink.

They were sitting in a booth in the corner, sipping their cocktails and having inane conversation. The scene on the dance floor was much more interesting, but the crowd was shielding all the recent developments from her eyes. She gave her companion a bright smile, interrupting his less-than-fascinating monologue about the law firm he was managing.

"So Cameron, would you care to dance?"

The music was soft, quiet, just right for seduction, Jurgen thought, as he followed Michael onto the floor. Michael stopped when they were deep enough among the dancing couples, and turned to face him, moving closer, intruding on his personal space. Jurgen breathed deeply, trying to control the frantic beating of his heart. He moved closer to Michael's body and closed his eyes. The music flowed over him…

The stranger sang a theme,
from someone else's dream,
the leaves began to fall,
and no one spoke at all,
But I can't seem to recall
When you came along…

Ingenue

Jurgen could feel himself being enchanted, seduced. But at the moment, he didn’t care. He was falling…

I just don't know what to do…

All his senses were heightened. He felt Michael's strong body so close to his, hard and hot against him, smelled his heady scent, a mixture of soap and shampoo and leather, and the music… the seductive music filled his ears.

The tree-lined avenue,
begins to fade from view,
Drowning past regrets
in tea and cigarettes
But I can't seem to forget
When you came along
Ingenue…

He looked into Michael's eyes, drowning in their depths, losing control. Michael's eyes scanned his face, stopping on his lips, then rose back to his eyes. Their intention was clear. Jurgen closed his eyes as Michael's lips touched his…

I just don't know what to do
Ingenue
I just don’t know what to do…

His lips were so soft, yet demanding. The feeling was like being wrapped by darkness all around, being blinded, helpless… It was crazy, an obsession, a craving that could never be satisfied. The feeling was so good… too good to last. Jurgen drew a breath as Michael ended the kiss before it could escalate. It had been just enough to tease.

Ingénue
I just don't know what to do
Ingenue
I just don’t know what to do…

(*Author's note: The song is "Life in Mono" by Mono. We heard that song in an LFN episode before: “Double Date” as Michael seduced Lisa Fanning.)

The song faded out, and Jurgen opened his eyes abruptly, moving slightly away from Michael. He was shaken, angry with himself for losing control, for surrendering to the moment. He looked into Michael's eyes. A fire burned in them. Jurgen recognized it.

Power.

In those few moments, Michael had gained power over him. Tremendous power. It was time to finish this. Jurgen touched Michael's arm slowly, wrapping his fingers around it.

"How about we… go someplace more quiet?" he suggested, knowing it was only for the sake of those who might be listening.

"Of course. After you," Michael answered.

They left the club with unhurried steps, heading outside to the awaiting Section van, and back to reality.

~ ~ ~

They sat in silence, refraining from looking at each other. Jurgen glanced at Michael. Michael's eyes, ever-so-expressive during the past hour, had resumed their blank look, shielding his thoughts and feelings. The silence lasted several minutes, then finally the van's door opened and Judith stepped inside. Jurgen told the driver to go.

Judith flopped on the bench beside Michael and removed her high-heeled shoes with a sigh of relief. She leaned back, stretching her long legs, looking at the two silent men.

"What a night," she said brightly. "Did you boys have fun?"

Neither one answered.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, Jurgen lay in his bed, replaying the mission in his mind. The debrief had gone smoothly. Michael was informed that he’d passed the test with flying colors, and was a candidate for operative status. It was certain that Michael would achieve that status very soon, and therefore, would no longer be under Jurgen's authority and command.

Jurgen closed his eyes, but couldn't sleep. He knew for certain that he had developed feelings for his recruit, and he knew, just as certainly, that he could never act on those feelings, for a number of reasons.

It was dangerous. Very dangerous. During the mission, Jurgen had felt powerless against Michael’s presence. And he didn't like it when somebody else had the power. Power over him.

Power… how he craved it and the freedom that it gave…

He lay there, thinking, for a long time, until he made a decision. He would have the power some day. Power over Section, but more importantly… power over Michael. Yes, things would never again be like they had been tonight. The power would be his alone.

But, somehow, his decision failed to make him happy. Jurgen closed his eyes, a certain song playing in his head…

Ingenue
I just don't know what to do
Ingenue
I just don’t know what to do…

~ The End ~

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