Walter slammed the com-equipment on the prep desk. Michael paused in the process of sorting and checking his mission gear and slowly lifted his gaze to Walter's face.

"Is there a problem?" Michael asked quietly, his voice pitched as to remain unheard by others in the vicinity. As he asked the question his eyes were scanning the older man's face, probing for clues to explain Walter's aggressive behavior.

"You know damn well that there is a problem," Walter whispered hoarsely as he leaned across the table. "How could you let them do that to Nikita?" Walter went back to his check of mission gear, but he was bristling with anger and his hands shook with it.

Michael gave Walter a long stare and then returned to his pre-mission check, ignoring the older man's bitter question, the only sign that he had even heard the question the tightening of his shoulders.

But Walter had had enough. He reached out and grabbed Michael's hand, stilling the younger man's motions. Walter's actions drew notice from other Section operatives and Walter reluctantly let go, recognizing that touching Michael was something that no one bar Nikita was ever brave enough to do.

"Don't ignore me, Michael. You know that she isn't cut out for these valentine missions. How could you allow Madeleine to go ahead with this mission, especially knowing that they were manipulating her feelings for you?"

Michael continued looking down at the prep table, his eyes resting on the hand that Walter had gripped so tightly, and then he sighed. He slowly raised his head and looked Walter square in the eyes. There was more emotion resting within them than Walter had seen since the night Michael had pulled a gun on him, preventing him from warning Nikita of the impending destruction of the building she was in, but Michael still said not a word.

Walter swore under his breath, recognizing that he would get no answers form the younger man.

"Damn you. What does Section have to do before you revolt? How many ways do they have to manipulate you and the ones you care about before you call a halt to it?"

Walter wandered back among his supplies shelves, feeling to get away from the sad-eyed man at the front of his station. He watched as Michael stiffened his shoulders before continuing his mission prep. As his eyes scanned Michael they caught the movement of an operative headed toward Birkoff. Perhaps his conversation with Michael wasn't over.

"I release that it would be to much for you to tell Nikita that you were sorry and that you really care for her, but perhaps you would be willing to help her out?"

Walter's sarcasm cut a path through Michael's heart, but he refused to allow any emotion to cross his face.

"How does Nikita need my help?" Michael asked quietly, tempted to ask despite his cautiousness.

"Well, you know how some of these redneck Section operatives feel about operatives that have valentine mission?" Walter grimaced at the attitude of some of the coarser of the bunch they worked with.

Michael's entire body straightened to attention at Walter's words. "As though they then become Section's whores." Michael stated sharply, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

"Yeah, well, ever since Nikita was seen by the other operatives as cosying up to Karl, they've, well, I'll let you see for yourself." With these words the older man shutup, instead letting his attention fall on the tall, dark hair manned who was coming up behind Micheal.

"Hey, Michael." The taller man slapped his hand on Michael's back.

Walter watched with glee, thinking, "Mistake number one."

Michael paused in his actions, but did not turn toward the man. "Bridger."

"I gotta tell you, I'm so glad I ran into you." Bridger grinned at Walter and then leaned forward, his hand moving to Michael's shoulder.

Walter was still keeping tally in his mind. "Mistake number two."

"Don't you want to know why, Michael?" Bridger couldn't resist taunting the seasoned operative.

Micheal glanced slowly at Bridger and then returned to his inspection of the next piece of equipment.

Bridger leaned in close and said with a grin, "I was curious as to what I needed to do to get Nikita to scream as I want to be the next one in line. I figure that she's fair game now that Madeleine is sending her out on valentine missions. Or maybe she isn't worth it. Can you give me any advice?" Bridger had been pounding Michael shoulder during this brief statement. The good-ole boy method of forming a bond.

Walter made another check mark on his invisible tally sheet.

Michael silently looked at Walter and then shifted his gaze to Bridger. "My advice is to leave Nikita alone." Michael brushed Bridger's hand off his shoulder and prepared to leave the area.

"Hey," Bridger halted him. "Are you saying that she your own private slut?" By now the conversation was getting loud and Birkoff and his team were starting to pay attention.

Michael looked at the taller man with disdain. "Nikita is no ones slut, but the reason I was suggesting that you leave her alone was purely for your own benefit. I have every confidence that if you tried anything on Nikita she would cut your d*#k off and leave you to bleed to death." With these words Michael turned back to Walter and gave a simple command. "Alert medical, Bridger is not feeling well."

As Michael turned away from the man, Bridger had reached out to grab him. Without glancing back, Michael swiftly countered these moves with an elbow to Bridger's diaphragm. As Bridger hunched over in pain Michael's closed fist moved back and hit his descending face square between the eyes. All six foot four of the man slid to the ground.

Michael gathered his gear and glanced once at Walter. Walter was surprised to see him give a faint nod in his direction and then silently glide away.

Walter looked down at the crumbled operative and silently gave the count. "Three strikes and your out." As he was thinking these words the Medical team arrived and started to gather the tall man from the floor.

"What were his symptoms?" A white coated medical technician questioned.

"Well, you know, he was acting a little delusional and he seemed to be having trouble with his hearing. He reached out for support and before you know it, there he was, passed out on the floor." Walter grinned snidely as the young medico jotted down this information.

"Hmm, sounds like the flu might be going around." The young medico drifted off with his patient.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Walter murmured and slowly went back to work.

The end.

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