Nikita stumbled into the briefing room, black glasses shielding tired eyes. She yawned deliberately as Madeline greeted her.

"What's up?" Nikita inquired with a long drawn out sigh as she sunk into the comfortable softness of the plush chair.

Madeline looked hesitant for a fleeting second. "There's a briefing tomorrow morning, but I want you spend the night here in the MedLab."

"Any particular reason." She queried scratching an imaginary itch on the side of her cheek - Madeline's allusiveness as always unsettling in every way.

"We need to run some tests while you're sleeping. It will be imperative for your upcoming mission." She sat down in a seat folding her hand neatly in her lap.

"Sleep shouldn't be a problem," Nikita retorted. "What am I going to be doing?"

"You're going to be dead." Madeline said flatly.

Nikita nearly spit her gum across the room as she scrambled to her feet. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed.

"We need to find a way to suppress the transmission of the electrical activity in your brain during an EEG. You will need to be declared clinically dead to complete this mission."

"So that's it, I just die?" Nikita furrowed her eyebrows amazed at the coldness with which Madeline proposed the details of the mission.

"Not really, you'll be asleep or at most semi-conscious from your vantage point." Madeline smiled reassuringly leaning forward to pat Nikita's trembling hands.

"What's this all about?" Nikita finally found the courage to ask.

Madeline smiled thinly. "Briefing in less than 6 hours, you'd better get some sleep."

"Sure." She squinted at Madeline's retreating figure. Nikita wondered now how she could sleep knowing that she would be dying the next day.

The next morning Nikita sat with Michael and Madeline around the briefing table going over the details of the mission. Neither Madeline nor Nikita missed the concern Michael evidenced, harping on every detail of the mission.

"Lately women ages 20-25 have been disappearing from the hospital morgues across the country. Ten years ago the occurrence was rare, but in the list few months there has been a steadying increase in disappearances within the radius marked. One of the bodies was discovered with a five month fetus in the womb."

"So?" Nikita wondered.

"According to the coroner's initial exam, the woman was a virgin. She had been hospitalized for only two weeks, before her family pulled the plug on her brain dead body. Urine specimens showed that she was not pregnant at the time of her death."

"So what are you saying?"

"We believe that there is testing being done on these missing bodies. That they are physically being maintained and their wombs used to house and produce cloned humans."

"How did we find out about this?" Michael asked leaning forward with interest.

"The fetus and mother had unknown substances found in the blood. The mother died in withdrawal like state clawing at the walls, screaming like a mad woman. She was never fully coherent. Because of her violent death within twenty-four hours of admission, and the oddity of her pregnancy, her body was flagged and sent to the CDC." Madeline flicked up a picture of a blond-haired woman showing before and after pictures.

She continued with her monologue.

"Our job is to locate the headquarters where we believe the cloning is taking place. Human experimentation without consent is against the law as is the pedaling of unknown and unlicensed pharmaceuticals. We need to isolate the laboratory first. So far other sources have come up empty. We need a way to get inside."

"Why me?" Nikita asked rubbing her fingers through her hair.

"Because the centralized draw of missing women across the grid seem to have three main common denominators. They are in their early twenties with blond hair and blue eyes."

Nikita looked unsure, and Michael was rubbing his chin uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, all we plan on doing is tracking your body and making sure the location of the laboratory. After that your jobs are done." Madeline re-assured the couple then got up to leave them alone. She sensed they needed a moment.

Nikita started to follow Madeline, but Michael stopped her. He stood slowly, holding her hands awkwardly in his but refusing to look in her eyes.

She waited expectantly as Michael struggled to find the right words to say. Finally, she ducked her head finding his eyes. "Don't worry!" She attempted a reassuring smile.

He raised his eyebrows as if to say - yeah-right-who-are-you-kidding then bit his lower lip.

She sighed loosening her hands from his grasp, "Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to die." She chuckled ruefully.

In the doorway, she glanced back at Michael whose gaze had never left her. "Do you wanna come with me?"

He nodded and took her arm as they walked in silence to the Medlab.

The technicians were polite, sterile, emotionless.

She winced as they started the IV and then mixed the solutions. Michael sat by the bed his hand holding hers watching the life seem to slip away from her.

"This is nice, Michael," she smiled at him enjoying the utter warmth and relaxation her body was feeling. She felt weightless,free, totally unrestrained. It was exhilarating. "Seriously," she opened her eyes wide and stressed, "You should try this."

Her eyes fluttered ,and she smiled as waves seemed to carry her off into a lilting bright beckoning light.

The plan went without a hitch. Birkoff managed to block all signs of electrical activity from Nikita's brain. She was in all aspects considered dead.

Her death certificate read Jane Doe, 23 YO white female, cause of death unknown. In two weeks, not a soul had come forward to re-claim the illustrious beauty. Doctors and nurses marveled at the mystery woman who had graced their ward for all of two weeks. She had been quite the topic of conversation. The highlight of each shift centered around making up the past of the sleeping beauty.

At 12:04 a.m. a doctor shut off the ventilator, and watched unceremoniously as her heart rate drop from 70 to 45 to 20 to flat-line. Her breathing ceased, and he covered her body leaving her with the morgue attendant.

The attendant waited 'til the darkened room was empty then pricked Nikita's finger and spotted three drops of blood on a slide. He then proceeded to draw a pale blue fluid into the barrel of the hypodermic needle. He pumped the solution into Nikita's antecubital vein and then moved her body onto the cart.

"She's moving." Birkoff informed Michael. Michael and six other operatives waited in the van following Nikita's signal.

Michael stood at the front of the van when the signal stopped moving. Donning his face mask, he instructed the team on their specific tasks.

Once inside the perimeter teams neutralized the area. A total of six doctors and twelve technicians were captured. Michael followed his hand held tracker down the hallway of rooms. Stride, quick and deliberate, he burst through a set of doors. Pulling back the curtain, he sighed in relief as he saw Nikita's sleeping form.

"She's here!" he voiced into the communication set.

He cursed softly as he saw a bag of light blue liquid hanging from an IV pole dripping slowly into both arms. An ugly plastic tube hung out one side of her mouth. Her chest rose and fell with each sigh and release of the ventilator. Her legs and arms were restrained and bright blue tube was running into one nostril.

He blinked several times in an effort to motivate his stiffened body. Finally the beeping sound from one of the machines compelled him to action.

Stroking the pale straw-colored hair from the pale white face, he gently leaned forward and planted a soft kiss atop her forehead.

"We need a medical team." He added.

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

Two hours later Michael waited outside the Section MedLab room watching the doctors converse with Madeline.

The way Madeline kept looking at Nikita and stroking her chin made him nervous. He sat down resting his elbows on his knees, his head resting above teepeed hands.

Madeline finally exited the room, motioning him to follow her.

"What is it?" Michael finally found the strength to ask as they traveled through Section corridors.

"We don't know." Madeline said shaking her head. "One of the doctors we captured should be able to shed some light on what kind of drug they were pumping into her."

A urgent voice interrupted their travels, shouting through the intercom. "M'am, you have to get down here, now!"

Through glass windows, they observed the 18 captured doctors and technicians going mad - literally climbing the walls. Some of the men were taking turns beating each other violently. A couple of women were weeping uncontrollably, scratching gashes in their faces. Yet a few appeared catatonic. A man pressed his face against the window, repeatedly beating his head against it and screaming obscenities.

Madeline looked to a white-coated man beside her for an explanation.

The man shook his head, confusion evident in his demeanor, "They all started at once. We were lucky to get out of there alive."

"Can you stop them?" Madeline asked returning her gaze once again to the contained madness. Not in all her years at the Section has she seen such unrelated madness.

He shrugged.

"Flood the room with sleeping glass." Madeline ordered. She pointed out a couple of their guests who seemed the least volatile "Reserve a special room for them, do what you can to keep them alive."

"What's going on?" Michael asked.

Madeline shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. "Withdrawal." Her cell phone rang, She answered it. "I see." she paused listening again to the caller. "Sanitize and report back. Bring samples of blood and tissue. Bring every IV solution you can find."

Michael raised an eyebrow in question.

"All the patients found in the captured Medlab are dead." Madeline's eyes widened and she shook her head, for the first time appearing visibly shaken by the magnanimity of this situation.

"They became psychotic." She murmured more to herself than for Michael's benefit, looking back at the 18 men and women displaying similiar psychosis.

"Nikita!" Michael whispered. Wordlessly, they made their way back to her side. They heard Nikita's shouting voice on the other side of the door.

Madeline hurriedly punched the code to open the door and found Nikita sitting on the side of the bed arguing lividly with the Section doctor.

"No, No, No, I haven't had a cheeseburger in two and a half weeks!" She shouted grabbing the lapels of his jacket, she pulled the poor little man inches from her face. "Get it, or I'll break every bone in your scrawny little body!"

Madeline suppressed a laugh, and Michael couldn't help but smile in relief.

"Get the cheeseburger." Madeline commanded, allowing a small smile to shape her lips. "Feeling better?"

"I guess so; although, I'm not quite sure how a dead person is supposed to feel." She mouthed, gingerly jumping off the bed in attempted bravado.

Her unused muscles could barely support her weight, but she stood there determined to get her strength back. "Doc, where's that..." She doubled over in pain and screamed 'til her breath gave out. Body went rigid and spasms shaking her frame. While her face evidenced undeclared panic, her eyes shouted fear and pain before rolling backward.

"Nikita?" Michael dropped with her to the floor. He sat beside her unsure of what to do.

Madeline pushed the emergency button, and the room flooded with doctors and nurses. They gently set Nikita's body back into the bed.

Once the situation was controlled, one of the Section doctors pulled Madeline aside. His lowered voice relayed a powerful message.

"You're sure?" Madeline bit her lip and watched the Section One doctor nod sadly in acquiescence.

"We're sure." He replied sadly looking at Nikita's slumbering body.

"How long?" Madeline questioned, looking also at the peaceful figure shrouded in a stark white sheet.

The doctor shrugged. "We don't know. Scientifically speaking, it's impossible."

Madeline returned to face Michael who was soothing Nikita with soft French phrase, gently stroking her hand and gazing adoringly over her face.

Without taking his eyes from Nikita he asked, " What did they say?"

"She's pregnant." Madeline said biting her lips and crinkling her face with worry.

Michael's eyes widened as he looked at Nikita' stomach. "Pregnant?" He uttered in shock.

"She's six weeks pregnant."

Michael choked out, "That's impossible."

"I know." she whispered tightly.

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

Madeline and Michael sat facing a panel of Section One and CDC elite medical professionals in an office outside the Section. Each party acknowledged the impossibility of the scenario, and none could offer explanation.

Michael and Madeline listened as each voice offered them more and more irrationality. The doctors had no problem removing themselves from the humanity of the case. Michael was finding it hard separate the two, Nikita was more than some experimental procedure.

To the doctors, this case provided ground-breaking evidence for cloning. While unethical it was providing them with valuable information. The excitement in their voices evidenced the thrill this scenario was providing them

"If she proceed along this course. She will deliver the baby within a month." One voice mentioned

"The mother's body goes through several adjustment in the nine months of pregnancy. The changes are subtle as they prepare the body for delivery. Nikita's body will be unable to assimilate these changes so radically. If she carries the fetus to term it would most likely kill her." Another voice argued.

"Options?" Madeline queried, her voice controlled but saddened.

"We're not sure at this point. We're continuing analysis on the blood and tissue samples as well as the mystery drug which we have labeled PRO-4471. It appears at first glance to be an amphetamine, although extremely advanced in origin. It can be used to enhance metabolic production of specific processes influencing electrolyte and fluid metabolisms, hormone balances, and specific enzymes processes.

"In English" Michael interjected hurriedly stroking the base of his nose and holding his closed fist over his open mouth.

"Depending on the dosage and delivery route among other things, this drug can be used for specific metabolic enhancement. It produces dependency both physiologically and psychologically speaking. In Nikita's case they were using PRO-4471 to enhance speedy fetus development."

"What does that mean for her?" Madeline asked calmly.

"We're titrating the administration of the drug, weaning her from it. It's metabolized quickly. She was off the drug for a total of thirty minutes and that was the reaction you saw in her room."

"Suggestions, comments?" She cut in curtly, turning her head to engage in brief eye contact with the professionals. Her exterior the model of control.

"We'll need to start administration of supplemental hormones, in an attempt to prepare her body. It won't be enough, but it will buy us a week's time."

"By the end of the week?" Michael asked looking at Madeline trying to gauge her reaction.

"She should be 4 months pregnant." someone offered after scrawling some figures on paper.

"Can you tell anything about the father?" Michael asked squinting his eyes while rubbing his chin.

"The baby doesn't have a father per se. It has the exact DNA structure as Nikita. It's her clone."

"She's awake." sounded over an intercom.

"Good." Madeline nodded to Michael. "Michael..."

He nodded back, wasting no time in exiting the gathering.

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

Michael breezed into Nikita's Med room, shocked once again to see her sitting on the side of the bed and attempting to stand. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

Shooting him a guilty look, Nikita recovered quickly by quipping, "I hope that smell of grease is a double cheeseburger and not your idea of groovy aftershave."

Relief flooded through him, discovering her in such good humor. He pulled two wrapped burgers from behind his back, waving their scent through the air as he approached her perch. "Sorry they're not Lenny's infamous grease cakes of which you're so fond, but Section-issued beef cakes will have to do."

She licked her lips in anticipation and replied a little too innocently, "I guess they'll do." she playfully looked him up and down approvingly and winked. "Gimme!"

A twitch of his left lower lip acknowledged her wise-crack. "Behave." He warned, holding the burgers just out of her reach.

She feigned a pout, before leaning forward to snatch the proffered burgers. She stuffed them in her mouth, nearly swallowing them whole.

"Gosh," Nikita growled between bites, "I don't think I've ever been this hungry, and I've *been* hungry." Finishing the last bite, she wiped the trailing grease from the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Coke?" she asked her mouth still full.

He sighed and reached into his coat jacket, producing a can of caffeine-free Cola.

She gulped it, then flopped straight back across the middle of the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her and sighing a very contented sigh.

"How do you feel?" He couldn't take his eyes off her fingers lazily drawing circles over her lower abdomen.

"Full." She sighed, throwing one arm over her face. "Better." She added with a tone of finality.

The door opened and a technician pushed in an sonographic piece of equipment. Michael walked swiftly to the door and spoke briefly with the man in hushed tones before motioning him out.

"What was that about?" Nikita inquired shooting Michael a troubled look.

Michael pulled a chair close to Nikita's position on the bed. He seemed to be struggling with what he was forced to tell her. "Nikita." His eyes widened and his hand went up to his forehead as he fought for the right way to inflict the delicate news. He squinted, rubbing his furrowed eyebrows.

"For Pete's sake, Michael, spill it." she said exasperated. She suddenly found herself intensely irritated with him. No real reason for the irritation afforded itself, but even his breathing annoyed her.

She found herself both entranced and repulsed by the way he seemed to suck air into his flaring nostrils. The sound was all encompassing; suddenly it was all she could hear. She pulled her feet back in bed and scooted into a sitting position, distancing herself from him and his raspy breathing.

"You're pregnant." The words tumbled out followed by and uncharacteristic sigh. He looked up for her reaction, totally missing her intense study of his nose and mouth.

"No, I'm not." she laughed, shaking her head at his outrageous suggestion. But in gazing at the seriousness of his face, her laugh choked in her throat. Her expression changed to one of anger and accusation. "How?" she frowned.

"You don't remember?" he asked in reference to the mission.

"Michael I think I'd remember having sex with someone in the last few months." She threw at him.

She crossed her arms indignantly. Waves of anger coursed through her veins, undulating with every beat of her accelerated pulse. Her gown felt like it was choking her, yet still she tried to focus on Michael. He seemed so far away.

"That's not what I meant, " He answered weakly, cursing himself for his blunder. He sat on the edge of the bed taking her hand and touching under her chin. His eyes and tone of voice very serious, but gentle. "You're six weeks pregnant... " Michael spelled out the details concerning the pregnancy, and soon she knew as much as they did.

Her eyes closed in an attempt to block the verity of his words. Her hands instinctively covered her abdomen stroking up and down. Her forehead wrinkled occasionally as she processed his words.

He had been finished for quite some time, but still she remained silent, never opening her eyes. She appeared so small and vulnerable. Her only reaction was that of a single tear from each eye trailing slowly over the slopes of her cheeks and poising in a collective droplet on her chin.

He reached out to hold her, but she shrugged away from his touch. Covering her face with her hands, she murmured, "I just want to be alone, Michael."

His touch felt like hot fire on her burning skin. An onslaught of emotions flooded her mind causing her not to trust herself around him.

"Okay." his voice, barely audible, answered her. He gently tucked and smoothed the stiff sheets over her stiffened torso.

"Michael?" her hands fell briefly from her face while her eyes ensured that he was still present. " I don't know what's going on anymore."

He nodded standing, "None of us do."

The doors closed behind him. He stood there for a while convinced that in some way he was helping just by being nearby. He promised the supporting door that he would find a solution.

Madeline met him in the hallway and they fell in step together. Her heels clicking out a face pace down Section corridors.

"How is she?"

"I don't know," Michael answered truthfully. "She seemed to handle the news fairly well, considering."

"One of the doctors is ready to talk." She informed him with a dark smile. "Doctor Carlotta Lefletter, brilliant physician suma cum laude of a prestigious medical school abroad, disappeared from the medical circuit shortly after she published article about human experimentation that was not well received."

She paused outside the doors, "It seems she even went as far as to insinuate that the Nazis should have been given medals for their discoveries in WWII."

Madeline opened the cell door and motioned the two orderlies out of the room. "Doctor Lefletter."

"Carl." a hoarse voice corrected.

"Carl." Madeline acknowledged with a slight tilt of her head and a thin smile.

Carl was an average woman in height and build, nothing spectacular about the straight mousy brown hair, the toast colored eyes, and sallow skin that bespoke too much time spent indoors. Her features were small and untainted by any trace of make-up.

"What is it you want?" Carl's eyes bounced from Michael's stoic form to Madeline's circling prowess. As if grasping that Madeline was the force with which to reckon, she trained her eyes on Madeline's figure.

Madeline stopped at the foot of Carl's bed, raising her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"I wouldn't be alive if you didn't need me. What do you want?" Carl's voice was flat and unemotional. Her heartbeat and respiration steady.

"You're assessment is correct." Madeline conceded. "And, we would like your help in continuing your research." She chose her words carefully, hiding the contempt that she held for this woman masterfully.

Shifting in the bed, Carl cast Madeline a doubtful look and responded by echoing Madeline's offer in monotone.

Madeline waited patiently, still standing at the foot of Carl's bed with her hand clasped in front of her expectedly.

Michael watched the two study and appraise each other. They were like two stick figures imposed on a stark white pallete. Each expressionless, two blank faces and bodies blending with in synchronicity to the bareness of the medical cell.

Carl sat back in the bed, refusing to break the deafening silence perpetrated only by the ever steady beeping of her heart monitor.

Madeline looked at Michael and nodded towards the door. Wordlessly, she followed him to the doorway.

They paused at the sound of Carl's bitter voice, "You've taken everything from me."

Madeline turned, but Michael continued walking. He had seen and heard enough.

"In one day you took everything that I believed and hoped in, and you destroyed it." No hint of sentiment colored the spoken words.

Madeline marveled at the tight control the woman exhibited. The tinge of bitterness was there, yes, but the physical signs of emotion were notably absent. The blank stare, the unaffected heart rate, the controlled body language evidenced a facade of rigid control both practiced and perfected.

"I'd rather die than help you. Nothing you can do will change that." Carl's eyes closed as if to signal - transmission over.

The doors closed behind Madeline with a deafening sound, leaving Carl alone in her self-made prison and leaving Section One without their needed answers.

The tide of tension ran high within the confines of the Section. It seemed to sweep everyone along a desperate wave of hopelessness, pulling each spiraling downward in an undercurrent of fear.

Unknown hung, heavy like a dark, rain cloud threatening breakthrough, unrelenting in steady oppression.

Madeline pressed her temples, trying in vain to push away the dark thoughts and the overwhelming sense of weariness. Her eyes flitted momentarily to sound of her opening door; she straightened immediately - extrerior intact. Welcoming Michael's figure with a slight smile, she motioned to the chair across the desk.

Out of habit she observed his general appearance, forming in two seconds an overall evaluation. Stubble shadowed his lower face with the same blackness that circled his eyes. His suit coat was rumpled; his shirt stained. One shoelace, untied, threatened to trip his shuffling gait. His movements, usually graceful, were unsure, slow, deliberate as if every movement required conscious thought.

He sat down across the table from her. They held each other's hollowed gaze briefly, offering unsaid comfort and support in the exchange. He blinked slowly and formed words with his lips. His voice, unsteady and hoarse, was barely audible. "You've found something?"

She inhaled deeply and nodded tucking her chin to her chest . "Yes. I think we may have found a method of convincing Doctor Lefletter to assist us."

Michael inhaled with a hiss, as if physically tasting the hope she now dangled before him. His lifeless eyes came alive, glimmering with the prospect. "What is it?"

She pushed a disk half-way across the table. She watched him appraise the small metal disk.

"It's all there." She assured.

He reached for the disk, but she stopped him, "Go home and get some rest, Michael."

He stood holding the disk as if it were a life-line thrown to a sinking sailor. Confidence coursed through his veins bringing new life to his exhausted body. "I'm fine." He dismissed.

"You're exhausted." she countered, raising one eyebrow as if to deny his certitude.

"So are you." He shot back, pursing his lips tightly, hinting at the annoyance he felt.

She conceded him a small victory with the simultaneous raise of both eyebrows. As he breached the doorway, she left her parting shot, "Tie your shoe, Michael. " She bit her lip to contain a smirk and looked back towards her computer. She felt his smile and returned it to the screen in front of her.

As the door closed behind Michael, she tapped furiously at the keys. The Medlab was late in their ten minute reports on Nikita's condition.

She breathed relief as the screen revealed Nikita's form listlessly blending with the colorless environment. She waited and watched as Nikita's head tilted forward to acknowledge the shadow of a presence that fell across the bed. Soon Michael's figure added another dimension and a splash of color to the picture.

Madeline's lips curved into a smile as she saw Nikita lift a hand in greeting . Shaking her head in wonder, she blackened her screen, returning her hands to her forehead.

"I didn't think..."Michael started somewhat sheepishly taking the proffered hand in his own.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me." she rubbed the hair back from her face, and propped herself higher in bed. Tensing only slightly as Michael moved to help her position the pillow behind her back, she settled comfortably into the soft plush pillow.

"I know that you were trying to help." she faltered briefly and he encouraged her with the slight dip of his head. She squinted one eye hesitantly "Totally off topic, but ah, the Section doesn't by any chance have oysters in a half shell readily available? Do they?"

He shed the suit jacket, while shaking his head, "No, I don't believe they consider that one of the necessary staples."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. Glancing around her prison briefly, she turned to stare at center on his shirt. Her gaze narrowed as she fingered the invisible outline of a crusted stain over the tightness of his abdomen.

Her fingertips traced the blemish as if in awe of the abstract. She slipped one finger between the buttons of his shirt. Pulling the stained fabric outward, she absently caressed the fabric between her fingers moving up and down between the buttons. It amazed her that he would allow such a monumental flaw in his appearance.

"Judging by shape and texture, I'd say dried ketchup and ..." She leaned forward sniffing the area, "Ah, a hint of tabasco with..." She sat back thoroughly disgusted, "EGG!" she said firmly, stroking the area with her fingertips once again. "Hmm, can't imagine how you could miss that mouth of yours." she said cheekily.

Expecting some kind of response, she glanced up at him only to find his eyes boring downward, seemingly entranced. She smoothed the area once again before extracting the offending fingers hooked inside the button holes.

Michael cleared his throat searching for the right words to say. Her fingers had been like hot fire brands, searing him with their heat. His skin still burned from the flame she had ignited with just a simple touch.

"You've been acting little strange." He volunteered with a wrinkle shelving his forehead. The comment didn't fit exactly fit, but Nikita allowed it.

"I know." she frowned, recalling her violent mood swings over the past few days. The hormones, they were feeding her had sent her into swirls of lunacy. Her spirits rolled with the whimsical pattern of a tumble weed in the winds of her emotions. She had reached an all time low last night, when she ordered Michael out of her room.

She had been poked and prodded like an animal for four very long days. Last night she was having trouble getting comfortable, and Michael had suggested a sleeping position that had worked for Simone. At the mere mention of her name, Nikita blew up, turning an innocent suggestion into an all out war.

"You don't get it, Michael! I'm *not* Simone , WE didn't make this child out of our mutual love." She had escalated into hysterics at that point as if finding some new truth in her outburst, " I have some SICK woman's monster inside me pushing my insides around like a hockey puck - because of you! Get out!"

Her face flushed red remembering her litany of abuse. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine why he would willingly come back.

"Is it hot in here to you?" she asked fanning her face. Beads of sweat were popping like corn kernels along the outline of her lips.

"It's warm." His body felt warm, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

Exhaustion had weakened his every defense. He found his eyes tracing the outline of her body under the sheets. He blinked, looking away and silently cursing the effect that she had on him. Taking a deep breath he did what he had always done - run. He leaned forward patting her hand. "I'll see you later."

"Bring some potato chips and peanut butter." she answered his retreating figure, then as an afterthought or perhaps a stroke of genius, she shouted. "And some whipped cream!"

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

Michael paused outside Dr. Lefletter's cell door. He straightened his tie practically choking himself, and tucked stray strands of hair behind his ears.

He found his thoughts drifting to Nikita. Their window of time was up. Dr. Lefletter's participation was no longer a commodity it had become a pressing necessity.

In the week that she had been there, Dr. Lefletter had not evidenced the slightest reaction or emotion. Even in withdrawal from PRO-4471, she was lifeless, catatonic.

Michael consciously erased the contempt and hate from his face. Pushing open the door and stepping inside he pinned her to the chair with the intensity of his stare.

Bound hand and foot, she sat there her every outward sign screaming intense boredom. She stared back at him, casting a perfunctory look as if to say 'let's get this over'.

Hazel eyes traveled from her lips to her eyes. Using only the motion of his eyes, he touched her with his gaze. Perusing each part of her body always returning to her eyes before traveling to the next point, he caressed her entire body without ever physically touching her.

"Are you here to rape me?" she asked offhandedly, without emotion.

His eyes stared past her briefly flickering aggravation. He returned to the door, opening it and allowing two women entrance. They pushed a cart through the door. It was laden with cosmetics, oils, perfumes.

"You're going to give me a make-over." Carl's voice applauded with oozing sarcasm "What fun."

"Start." Michael commanded the two women.

The women untied Carl and began working on the blank slate of a woman before them. Carl offered no resistance.

Carl watched with interest the pacing of the mysterious man circling the outside of the circular room, stroking his chin with his fingers, appraising her transformation with mocked interest.

The two women buffed and polished the good doctor, creating quite a contrast to the mousy woman that had entered the Section. Once finished they looked to Michael; he stopped his pacing and looked approvingly at their work.

"Thank you!" he uttered dismissively.

He dropped in front of Carl's form, sitting on the back of his heels. "You're very beautiful, Carlotta!" he voice assuaged her rigid body, licking away the tension with every word that formed on his tongue.

"Carl." she corrected, shifting uncomfortably at his appreciative stare.

"May I touch you?" he asked in a reverent whisper.

"I'm sure you'll do whatever you wish." She replied with flat invariability.

He took her hand in his turning it palm up. With his other hand he lazily traced random outlines . He watched for reaction, but her eyes were closed as if she could shut out his presence by merely willing him to be gone.

He palmed her hand, interlacing her fingers with his. He stood pulling her up with him. Her body was tremulous.

Michael doubted that any man had ever touched her with this type of intimacy. He pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Is being a woman so terrible?"

The walls of Dr. Lefletter's defenses went up so quickly, Michael felt that he might have physically seen a barrier erect itself. Her eyelids flashed open. She became a stone figure with her gaze fixated so that she scarcely even blinked.

She pushed his hand against his crotch. "Having that doesn't make you a man."

He blinked, slowly wetting his lips. He pushed his hand away, and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, detecting the slightest rise in her pulse. A barrier cracked; a mask undonned, Carlotta was making known her presence.

"Calling yourself 'Carl' doesn't make you a man." He countered gently leaning closer, a whisper away from her lips. She retracted her head - a turtle retreating into its shell. Peering into his eyes, she wondered if perhaps he could indeed see all that she was hiding in those vast brown expanses.

She withdrew her hands from his and placed them rigidly by her sides. Her flat eyes flashed anger momentarily. "Men are pathetic and weak."

"Your father couldn't save your mother because he was weak." Michael translated.

A thrill of shock ran through her features breaking the monotony of the stone face she had fabricated. Her voice was that of a shrill bird, "My father was with another woman, while I watched my mother bleed to death on the kitchen table."

Her breathing came harder and faster with each monosyllable that escaped her thin lips. She sunk down under the heavy pressure filling her chest. Her hands moved to her ears as if blocking the sounds returning from that dark night so long ago.

Micahel stepped backward silently regarding the woman.

Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles turned the brightest white. She wrinkled the fabric of her skirt systematically relaxing and gripping the bunched material. "A child couldn't help. Too much blood. The father was gone." No longer the stiff, reserved Dr. 'Carl' Lefletter, Carlotta curled in a ball on the chair rocking herself and speaking in fragmented sentences that pieced her past together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Michael noted how she distanced herself by referring to herself in the third person. She was so far away in a world from long ago. She never noticed him quietly leave the cell.

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

Entering the circular Medlab pod, Michael arrived just in time to observe a male orderly coming out of Nikita's room. He was gripping his hand and shaking it as if to relieve some pain.

Michael chose not to comment, but the man stopped him in his journey around the pod. "Word of warning, man. Do not arm wrestle that chick in ML-4, she bit me."

Michael suppressed a smirk, and nodded curtly "Before or after she beat you." He walked on before the man come formulate a response. The shocked intake of breath was all the response Micahel required.

"Wow!" Nikita eyed him deliciously, appraising the transformation. "Hot date?"

"Biting people?" he waggled a finger at her, shaking his head in disparagement. "Do I need to order restraints?" He shed his suit coat and loosened the tie, unbuttoning the top button as he walked towards her perch.

His face was so serious, she bit her lip trying to gauge a response, but decided instead to pursue another subject. "This is really great!" she murmured as her mouth closed over a hot pastrami grinder.

Upon seeing his face relax, she understood the nature of his jest. She added "Much better than the orderly!"

He took one of many scattered potato chip bags gingerly in his hand handling it like a diseased anomaly. "You do realize it's 5:30 in the morning." he said disapprovingly.

"It could be New Years for all I know." She retorted, only slightly miffed. Her gaze traveled around the room, "They keep it light in here day and night, and there aren't any clocks."

He pulled the chair closer to the bed, watching her as she dangled pieces of meat and lettuce into her mouth and systematically licked her fingers. "You almost make that look good." He offered, clearing his throat.

She licked the taste from her lips trying to imagine what he meant by that. "You've never had a pastrami grinder!" She concluded, her eyes popping wide with amazement.

"I try to avoid excess grease if at all possible." He tapped his chest in reference to his heart. His mouth had already begun to salivate in response to the rich odors.

"Yeah, wouldn't it be awful to die from a heart attack instead of a say a bullet or knifet?" She raised her eyebrows, challenging the validity of his logic.

"I see your point." He answered, looking apprehensively at the offered grinder.

"So... you'll risk life and limb for me..." she leaned forward dangling the sandwich between her thumb and index finger, enticing him. Extending it to reach just below his lips, her eyes locked with his - issuing the nature of the dare.

"I suppose that I have no choice but to accept your risky offer. Otherwise, I might suffer the fate Mr. Orderly." he shrugged before enclosing his mouth over the grinder she held for him.

"Maybe, ...If you're lucky?" She clicked her teeth together a couple of times teasing him before wiping a tiny shred of lettuce from his chin, and tossing him an open bag of chips.

He smiled, and swallowed the fatty substance in his mouth, giving it a so-so reaction. He pulled a chip from the bag, and looking at it he exclaimed, "It's been licked." Emptying the bag on her bed sheet, he found every chip had been licked of its flavor.

"Oh," she mouthed, covering her mouth guiltily. Searching the half-empty bags around her for a replacement, but coming up empty, she dropped over the opposite side of the bed.

"I sometimes ..." Her voice trailed off as she hung half off the bed searching in the berth below. A mumbling explanation was shrouded by the crinkling of aluminum bags.

She struggled to push herself aright with her precious hidden treasure intact. He pulled her to a sitting position and watched her shed her precious load in a heap upon her lap. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure.

He watched as she parted the bag's seal eagerly. The delicious aroma of barbecue wafted upward along with quite a few chips. She arranged her hoarded bags in a semi-circle surrounding her lap. Lifting each bag she introduced him to "Garlic onion, Barbecue, Jalepeno, Sour Cream 'n' Onion." She groaned with pleasure lifting one of the fallen Barbecue chips to her lips licking it front and back. "Try it!"

In spite of himself Micahel found himself genuinely smiling , and his hand reached out of its own accord to stroke her jaw line affectionately.

She covered his hand with hers, a sound of contentment parting her lips. "I like it when you smile." She murmured. They sat bathing in each other's gazes, naked and vulnerable, for what seemed an eternity. Nikita could have sworn he wanted to kiss her, but when she wet her lips in anticipation, he looked away like a hot summer wind that gently embraces bare skin, leaving it cold with its absence.

Uncomfortable silence heated the room, pounding hearts adding soft undertones.

Nikita filled the silence with a demonstration of what the doctor had shown her that morning. She could just barely feel the fundus of her growing uterus. Taking his hand in hers, she placed it over her lower belly and pressed his fingers inward while lifting her hips off the bed. "Feel it?"

"What?" He squirmed uncomfortably, looking around the room. He felt like he was coming out of his skin. He retracted his fingers almost angrily.

Must she always pretend that she was ignorant idea the effect she had on him. Did she not realize the intimacy of such a touch?

"Nothing." she said moodily sensing his withdrawal. She wrapped her arms around her, and her lips sprouted a petulant pout.

He winced, realizing that he had broken the moment, irrevocably destroying the playful banter in which they had engaged. Her gaze was glassy-eyed, and she refused to look at him. He knew that he could only hope to leave at this point

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

In the doorway a voice unlike Nikita's hailed him from the dark circle of hell. "Michael" his name escaped with the force of a dying breath.

He whirled around. Her body was arcing upward, like a string attached to her belly was being jerked from the ceiling. He even looked upward as if to cut that string.

Chips went flying as her hand jerked to grasp sheets, railing, clothing. Her mouth was open in a scream, but no sound escaped her lips. Fear like he had never seen it darted like stinging arrows from her widened eyes to his.

Michael crunched through the carpet of chips, and watched mesmerized as her body seemed to float downward along the invisible ribbon that had held her. She faded like a wilting flower, her eyes flickering and a soft moan low in her throat vibrated through her whole body in uncontrollable shiver.

Sweat trickled down her face. Everything moved in slow motion. One arm fell to the bed, the other draped the railing with a resounding thud of metal against bone. Between her legs an ever expanding circle of bright red painted the sheets.

Another scream pierced the air and her body jerked upwards again. Rooted, he felt like he was trapped in the worst of his nightmares, but in this vision, the screams the smell of blood and sweat were real.

He was all of three feet from her side, but he felt like he was worlds apart. His own body jerked in rhythm with hers feeling each stab of pain as if it were his own. Like a ghost he stood helpless, watching as the room fill with doctors and technicians.

Madeline's hand was a sudden presence on his shoulder. His agonizing eyes followed his half-turned head to catch her gaze.

"We need Dr. Lefletter." She turned on her heel and left.

Michael blinked wondering how he could possibly move. His feet started to shuffle, and soon he was following Madeline out of the room. Nikita's shrieks in the background waned as they put distance between themselves and the Medlab.

"Where are we with Dr. Lefletter?" Madeline questioned, her head down, her thoughts focused on the task before them.

Michael didn't respond. He was absorbed in processing the events of the last few minutes. Like a sleepwalker, his body was going through the motions. His thoughts, his spirit however, he left down the hall with Nikita.

Madeline stopped walking and moved in front of Michael putting a restraining hand on his chest. "Michael." She snapped.

He stopped and wondered at this hand on his chest. 'How-did-that-get-there' filtered through the expression on his face. He followed the hand up to a small wrist, up a coffee colored suit, to dark brown eyes measuring his face.

"Michael, I need you here." she commanded. Her eyes narrowed and she dropped her hand, measuring his response.

"I'm here." He assured her, shaking off the disruptive thoughts with a shrug of his shoulder. He centered only on the bridge of Madeline's nose.

"Carlotta knows that she's a woman." He offered, trying to get in the swing of things.

"Has she accepted that she's human?" Madeline pressed. "Does she realize she's not a god who's deciding the fates of the human race?."

"I reminded her of her past. There was some change." Michael walked forward, full speed. What did it matter in the least if Carlotta had recovered. He didn't care. He knew only one thing. If she didn't help Nikita, he would break every bone in her body slowly, and he would enjoy every minute.

"Children often internalize, blaming themselves for the loss or separation of parents. Carlotta lost her mother, she blamed her father. Thus began her hate/love relationship with men. She wants to have the power society gives to men, but she wants also to rid the world of their seed." Madeline's voice droned on, trying to rationalize the evil of the doctor.

Michael tuned her out. He didn't care what drove Carlotta; he didn't care what horrible happenstance had created the monster. He only cared that the monster was alive and willing to help.

Moments later, Dr. Carlotta Lefletter found herself privy to a maniacal sight. Nurse and doctors tried in vain to settle the writhing figure of a woman on a bed. The sheets were stained with the blood.

Carlotta gasped. "Blood. So much blood." The words formed in her mouth as if she were using a foreign tongue.

She pushed past Michael and Madeline, pausing at the door unable to enter.

Madeline's hand paused over the keypunch pad. "Will you help her?"

"I don't know if I can, but I'll try." Carlotta's eyes held nothing but determination.

Carlotta rushed into the room, everyone seemed to pause and take notice. She picked three men and women to assist and sent the others away. "Ultra sound. " she barked.

They all did whatever she bid them. Fulfilling each barked order, they moved like a well-oiled team, each partly understanding the magnanimity of the task at hand.

"Be still." she snapped at Nikita. Rubbing the ultrasound receiver over the slightly protruding belly. "It's an incomplete placental separation." She declared after a few minutes.

"What does that mean?" Michael questioned.

"We need to get the baby out." Carlotta answered.

Carlotta looked at Madeline who looked at Michael. "Do it." they said in unison.

"All right, let's put her out of her misery." she instructed the man behind Nikita. He put something in her IV, and Nikita sighed in relief at the slight burning in her forearm that brought with it sweet release into near oblivion.

"I want an H&H, WBC, Coagulation study, type and cross. Get me 3 units of blood in here STAT. Open the IV, get her on her left side. Oxygen via mask 10 liters. " The commands spewed from her mouth as she backed out of the room to prepare from the emergency C-section.

"Romeo," she motioned to Michael. "Let the lady know what's going on here."

Nikita's hand found Michael's, gripping it in a tight vice. She was groggy with drugs, but she felt his warm breath gentle against her right ear informing her of Dr. Lefletter's plan. His other hand stroked her back. The drug was making her sleepy. But she managed to mumble three words, "Save the baby." Michael strained to hear the words, but couldn't make them out.

Outside Carlotta confronted Madeline while leaning over a sink, "She's 20 to 22 weeks. There's no way her body could support these kind of changes so quickly. What were you people thinking?"

Madeline offered no response she stood with her arms crossed in front of her watching Dr. Lefletter's preparation process through squinted eyes.

Carlotta wasn't finished. "You turned off the URO didn't you? Without it, her body won't process the changes." She scrubbed between her fingers with practiced strokes.

"If she continued taking the drug, she would have died. " Madeline assumed she was referring to what they had called PRO 4471. She sighed leaning against the wall, her eyes drifting to Nikita's room.

"Now both of them will probably die. She's lost a lot of blood, and the baby is too young." Carlotta measured the response of the woman in front of her. She needed Madeline to know the impossibility of the task at hand.

"Do what you can. Our top priority is the mother." Her eyes were blank offering Carlotta no hint of emotion.

Carlotta donned the sterile gloves a nurse was holding out for her snapping the latex over each wrist. "If there's too much bleeding, I may have to take the uterus."

Madeline nodded, "Whatever it takes."

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

Carlotta sank wearily into the first available chair outside the sterile MedLab environment. The last twenty-eight hours had been pure hell. Together with a team of doctors, she had worked furiously to save the lives of mother and baby. But as soon as they solved one problem, another would present itself. They chased their tails for hours inside the circular room. She had left once sure that the mother's condition was stable.

Carlotta stripped the latex gloves from her hands, rubbing trails of white powder over her face as she slowly processed all that had happened.

"Thank you." A shadow crossed her face and looking up she saw "Romeo". He didn't look much better than she did. Carlotta recalled how he had not left the woman's side during the whole ordeal.

At times she was sure that were it not for his gentle pleading, the blond haired woman would have given up. She held grudging respect for the stoic figure in black before her, but none of that mattered.

"Do you know pain, Romeo? " she smiled at him and chuckled bitterly. "Have you ever thrown yourself fully into creating something of beauty..." she paused, shaking her head and allowing unabated rage to surface her features, "Only to have the narrow-minded souls of the universe call your work ugly...evil."

Tears streamed her face. Feelings assaulted her, bringing a mixture of loss, relief, anger. Her shoulders shook, as she mourned the demise of her life's work.

"I'm sorry." Michael offered, leaving the distraught woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting outside the room, Michael watched the doctors continue their work on Nikita. She was still unstable, but no longer in critical condition.

Madeline's reflection joined his on the observation window. Michael's body tensed rigid, knowing by Madeline's expression that she was here only to perform her Section One duties. Perhaps that was why he preferred his one-dimensional view of her in the window.

"How is she?" Madeline asked quietly.

"I don't know." Michael answered, aware that Madeline was studying his appearance. Truthfully, he had no idea what she saw. He hadn't been outside the Medlab since Nikita had suffered the abruption.

Madeline closed her eyes tightly, gripping her hands in front of her. "Nikita can not possibly keep this baby, Michael. You know it and so do I." She walked to stand directly behind him, blocking his view of her as her eyes started to water.

Michael had been dreading this conversation. He started to reply, but she cut him off at the waist, taking his breath away with four words.

"The baby is dead." she said simply. "She died two hours ago."

"You're lying." He challenged. He felt like his insides were exploding with rage. He could scarcely control the mounting emotions which embodied him heart and soul.

"Do you really want the truth, Michael?" She questioned softly, shaking her head side to side, trying to convince him to accept this version of the truth.

Receiving no response from him, she restated "The baby died at 4:30 a.m."

"You want me to tell, Nikita." Michael understood. "You want me to let her believe that her baby is dead." He shook his head, turning again to face the window watching Nikita's still form.

"She'll hear it best from you." Madeline offered, looking away from the reflection of Michael's hopeless expression. "Decide which will be easier, Michael. Should she believe that her baby is dead, or believe that some experimental guru like Doctor Lefletter will be overseeing her care."

Michael closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. He tried to convince himself that he would be acting in Nikita's best interest. Something like this could destroy her, especially in her fragile condition.

"I'm sure you know what she can handle, Micahel." Madeline imparted from the doorway.

~~~~~~~~

Nikita opened her eyes. Pain and bare white walls greeted her reminding her resolutely that she was inside Section walls. A pale pink blanket covered her chest. She fingered the baby-fine hairs, caressing them and appreciating their softness.

Looking up at Michael's entering figure, she realized that something must be dreadfully wrong. He avoided her eyes, his own shining with unshed tears. "The baby?" She inquired, fearfully.

He didn't know how he formed the next sentence. With each word he spoke, he felt the simultaneous breaking of her heart and his. His eyes beseeched hers for understanding, pleading with her not to hate him. "She died at 4:30 this morning."

She blinked three times rapidly as if batting away the words. She couldn't cry. It wasn't in her. She needed, wanted the sweet release that came with crying, but everything was dry and dead inside her.

He sat beside her, pulling her hair gently and cupping her chin with his hands She grasped a handful of his shirt with her hands and pulled him towards her, stuffing her other fist inside her mouth.

He quietly rocked her gently in his arms. For a long time they held each other in quiet reverie. She finally spoke "I don't know what to feel..." she fingered the pink blanket pulling it over Michael's shoulder into her view. "Sorry, relieved, sad."

"I know." He whispered into her hair.

"I was just starting to accept that there was this life growing inside me, and now she's gone." Nikita blinked back the tears starting to form.

He pulled back, reaching into his jacket and bringing out a small manila packet. He laid it on her lap. "When you're ready."

"What's this?" She dropped the tiny blanket in a bundle on her lap and fingered the curious yellow package.

"Pictures. I thought someday, you might want to know her." His eyes remained glued to the package.

Tears once hard to find streamed like mad down her face. She raised the blanket to her face, covering it as sobs racked her body. Michael gently stroked her arms, offering support by kissing the top of her head. "I'm so sorry!" he mouthed into her crown.

"Michael?" She stroked his face gently, her fingers wandering his jaw line as she formed her question. "Did they name her?"

He pulled her hand away, gently kissing her palm. He looked down unable to hold her gaze. "No, they didn't name her." His eyes sparkled with tears.

"What was your mother's name?" She paused closing her eyes tightly, in her mind feeling his eyes close. She held her breath unsure if her would answer her.

"Melisande."

"Debussy's opera." she murmured.

She felt his smile, appreciating her conjecture. "Yes, my grandmother loved Debussy."

"Is it over?" She questioned, opening her teary eyes to regard him.

"It's over." He stated firmly. Taking the corner of the pink blanket, he carefully wiped the tears from her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down the hall Carlotta was stroking the plastic container sheathing the tiny breath of a baby. "Hush little baby, don't make a sound....." She hummed. Her eyes became luminous as she beheld a sliver of the dream she once knew.

THE END

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