Milady

by Titta (rated NC-17)

PROLOGUE

"Do we have a deal?" Her voice was matter-of-fact, betraying no emotion.

He wanted to scowl at her, to audibly wish her to hell, but he didn't. He knew the game too well, had probably taught her a few things about it, too, over the years. Hadn't meant to, of course, but she had always been rather good at picking up things, even when she had maintained she didn't care if she lived or died.

Never give anything away. The temporary relief gained will never outweigh the consequences of letting your opponent inside your head.

The voice of his mentor, dead for a few decades by now, rang clearly in his head. So, he kept his face passive; his posture as relaxed as it ever could get - he was still very much of the old school, after all. He kept his eyes on his own fingers, resting peacefully on the broad armrest of the brown leather armchair. Those fingers had once been a deadly weapon. Still could be, if needed. He resisted the urge to ball them into a fist, taking pleasure in his control instead.

It's a poor substitute for the real thing - well, you take what you can get. You can only play the cards you've got.

He moved his gaze towards the woman sitting in the other armchair across the small glass table from him. She looked completely at ease in the middle of his old-fashioned executive office. She sat with her back straight, one leg crossed over the other. He took stock once more of her polished black pumps, feminine but at the same time businesslike. They made her ankles look very graceful. Her thighs, an even balance of toned muscle and delightful curves, always looked good in nylons.

Stop stalling, man! It's not going to get any better with time.

Reluctantly, he looked her in the eye. Her greyish blue eyes appeared totally sincere. Not one bit of anxiousness showing. He couldn't help admiring her, despite himself. Looking at her, one would never guess exactly what was at stake here. His eyes briefly wandered down to her lips. They were rouged, immaculate like the rest of her.

Immaculate death, indeed.

He met her steady gaze again. Smiled a very dry, ironic little smile. "I must be out of my mind... but yes. You do your part, I'll do mine."

"Good." Her smile was tight, but her eyes shone momentarily with genuine pleasure.

As well they should!

He pushed himself up from the chair as soon as she started to get up from hers. Standing, he towered over her by almost ten inches, but even that didn't make him feel like he had an advantage over her. His height had no effect on her - or the balance of power between them.

She extended her cool hand for the shake, turning her head up so that she could look him in the eye. A delicate smile played at her lips and made light dance in her eyes. "You never know, there might even be feelings of gratitude."

He nodded in response and released her hand. He watched the slight sway of her hips as she crossed the room with neat, precise steps. Her skirt did a good job of displaying her shapely rear to its best advantage. He savored the feelings the image brought to life while she opened the door, slipped out and softly closed it behind her.

Only after the door was securely shut did he turn his back to it. The beautiful view outside his window left him totally cold this time. He closed his eyes wearily.

Just don't get ME killed, Milady.

CHAPTER 1

After almost two weeks of downtime, Nikita returned to Section tanned and rested. She was a little perplexed by the fact that she had been called in a day early and that the voice on the phone had not been Michael's, but she was determined to hang onto her good mood as long as possible. Checking her watch, she saw that she still had time to stop by Walter before the check-in at the com.

Nikita found Walter sitting at his table in the munitions bay, tinkering with a comm-unit.

"Hi, Walter." She smiled at him, genuinely happy to see him again. She always missed him when she went away for more than a few days.

"Hi, Sugar."

Instead of the expected smile, Walter's face was somber. Nikita thought that for a moment she had seen regret in his eyes. Something was definitely not right. A cold started to spread within her body. She inclined her head at him inquiringly.

Walter sighed. He didn't want to be the one to tell her the bad news.

"I guess you haven't heard."

"Heard what, Walter?"

"About Michael."

The mention of Michael's name let the cold into her heart. She could feel icy fingers gripping at it. Now she desperately needed to know what was going on and Walter's brevity was starting to irk her. Her voice became more forceful.

"What about Michael?"

Walter sighed again and turned to look around. Then he stood up and beckoned Nikita to follow him deeper into the munitions bay. He turned to face her.

"While you were gone, Michael led a team on a mission to destroy a Purple October cell. Three minutes into it, all communication with the team was lost. When the back-up team reached the site a few minutes later, they found the bodies of Johnson and Bressou. No sign of Michael or Luong."

"When was this?"

"Six days ago."

"SIX DAYS AGO?" She almost screamed.

"Ssssh." Walter placed a hand on Nikita's arm to soothe her. He was looking around to see if her outburst had caught anybody's attention. This was Section; broadcasting your feelings for all to see was never a good idea. Reassured that no one had heard anything, Walter continued in a hushed voice. "We've been looking for them ever since. Neither Michael nor Luong had a clock we could track. None of the electronics they were carrying show up on monitors. They disappeared without a trace."

Walter looked up at Nikita's face to see her taking long deep breaths trying to calm herself. He felt a surge of pride watching the mature way she was handling the situation. She had come a long way in a few years.

"Operations believes it was a set-up from the start. Purple October wanted to capture Section operatives, probably in order to extract information. And get this..." Walter's voice went down a notch. "In the few minutes they had, Purple October executed Johnson and Bressou and took Michael and Luong. Johnson and Bressou were both level one. Luong is level four."

He was looking at her and saw her eyes widen in realization.

"Inside information." Nikita nodded her head as she spoke softly.

"Yeah. Spec Ops found the mole last night. Madeline is entertaining in the white room as we speak. That's why they called you in. We're getting ready to extract them."

"If they're still alive." Nikita's voice was flat.

As soon as she voiced the words, she wished she hadn't. The thought of Michael being tortured for information while she had been soaking in the sun and enjoying the appreciative looks of the men passing by made her heart wrench. The thought of Michael being dead was so painful she had to banish it from her mind straight away. She needed to be able to function in the hours to come.

"Michael is a hard nut to crack - you know that, Sugar. He's been through this before. As long as they think there's something they can get out of him, they'll keep him alive."

Walter was trying to convince himself as much as Nikita, and they both knew it. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek and turned to go without another word. The cold had spread through her entire body and she felt numb.

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

Two hours later, Nikita was sitting at the briefing table with Walter, Birkoff and three other operatives. By now she was boiling with impatience but her face was carefully blank. She didn't want to cause a scene today. All she wanted was to have the briefing over and done with so that they could go save Michael. She couldn't help thinking that every minute might make a difference.

Operations and Madeline walked in together. Madeline took a seat at the head of the table; Operations remained standing, his posture even stiffer than usual, indicating he was not in a good mood. He let his gaze sweep over the operatives' faces before he began the briefing.

"As you probably already know, Mitchell was a mole for Purple October. He gave us a name for his contact. We grabbed the contact; he broke and gave us a person higher up in their organization. Thanks to the fast work of Substation Five we were able to get to that person as well. She broke a while ago and now we have the location of Purple October's headquarters."

Operations paused to give Birkoff the signal to put the image of a building and its surrounding area up on the holo display.

"If we're fast enough we can hit them before they find out they've been compromised. You are to go in and wipe them out." Operations nearly bit off the words. His eyes went from operative to operative, the look freezing-cold.

"We are using four teams. Team one will secure the perimeter. Team two will plant charges in the west and north parts of the building. Team three will do the same in the east and south parts. They will also download Purple October's databases and then destroy their computers. Team four will extract Michael and Luong. Sankar is leading team one, Karl team two. Bailey is in charge of team three and the whole mission. Nikita is in charge of team four. Any questions?"

His query was answered by a tense silence.

"The details have been downloaded on to your PDAs. Go through the sims with Birkoff - you'll be leaving in an hour."

With that the briefing was over. Nikita was the first to get up, but before she could get away she was stopped by Operations' voice.

"Nikita. In my office. Now."

She took a deep breath; then turned to follow Operations towards his office. She passed by Madeline who was now standing at the head of the table. The look in the older woman's eyes made Nikita feel uneasy. Could this situation somehow get worse?

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

When Nikita arrived in Operations' office he was already standing by the window looking down at the comm center which was busy with activity before the launch of the mission. She stopped near the door, not willing to go in any further. After a moment he turned to face her and took a few steps towards her.

"The reason I put you in charge of team four is that I trust you to do whatever it takes to extract Michael and Luong. Leaving them in enemy hands any longer is not an option. If extraction is not possible you will make sure they are BOTH dead before the building blows."

Nikita grew pale under her tan. She could feel a lump of lead in her stomach and taste it in her mouth. She was rendered temporarily mute by the harshness and ruthlessness of the order, although she knew she should not have been surprised by it. Operations was watching her with his cold steel-blue eyes and noticed the involuntary flinch of her body.

"This is a direct order. Do you understand me?" he asked forcefully, his stare relentless.

Nikita lifted her eyes from the floor to meet his.

"Yes."

Her voice was quiet but steady. Her face was blank but her eyes betrayed the turmoil inside. She knew he could see it, but she was determined to allow him no other victory.

"Good. That's all."

With a little nod of his head, Operations dismissed her and turned back towards the window.

As soon as Nikita got out of the 'Devil's Lair' as she had nicknamed Operations' office, she felt her knees starting to shake. Things had indeed gotten worse. Much, much worse.

CHAPTER 2

Team four of the assault force against Purple October's headquarters consisted of four operatives. Nikita had been put in charge of three big, strong men: Mentz, Turner and Cassiatore known as Cass. The men had been selected mainly for their strength; if necessary they would help move Michael and Luong back to the mission van. After almost a week in captivity it was possible that neither operative would be able to move on his own.

Nikita had ordered a light stretcher to be brought along, just in case. She knew from past experience that Turner was capable of transporting it without any loss of operational efficiency. He would carry the stretcher under one arm and shoot with his other hand. He had even used the stretcher as an impromptu weapon on one occasion. Stories about that particular mission still circulated in Section.

Led by Nikita, team four moved into the building behind team three. The few Purple October guards inside the building were taken by surprise and both teams were able to penetrate deep before encountering any real resistance. Even that soon crumpled under the lethally accurate fire from the Section operatives. Nikita, especially, was killing everyone in her path with a cold efficiency that unnerved even some of her fellow operatives.

When they found the door into the cellar, the two teams split up as planned. Team three continued towards the terrorist organization's computer center, while team four descended down to the cellar. Intel on the house indicated that as the likely place for holding and interrogating prisoners. Mentz was on point, Nikita right behind him. Cass and Turner - with the stretcher under his arm - were the last to quietly walk down the worn-out stairs.

They came to a dimly lit corridor leading in both directions with doors on both sides of it. The corridor was empty and silent. They could hear nothing to indicate that there was anyone else down there. The air was stale and slightly humid. Nikita wrinkled her nose at the smell. Later it would always remind her of this mission.

Nikita activated her comm unit for transmit on A-channel, used only by her team and Birkoff. He was running the mobile comm from the mission van parked a mile or so away. Not willing to take any chances by speaking aloud, Nikita whispered into the comm unit.

"We have to move fast. If there are hostiles here and they realize they're under attack the first thing they'll do is kill the prisoners. Leave the stretcher here. Turner and Cass, go to the left. Mentz, you're with me. Try the doors on the south side first."

The men nodded their acknowledgement of the orders. Turner and Cass turned left. Nikita motioned for Mentz to stay on point. Together they started moving down the corridor to their right. They checked the first two doors without finding anything more interesting than a food storage and what looked like a graveyard for old tools and gun parts.

When they were approaching the third door it opened, and a middle-aged man dressed in stained clothes stepped into the corridor. Without even thinking Nikita shot the man down with a short but deadly accurate burst from her machine gun. The sound of the shots was almost deafeningly loud in the enclosed space. Knowing that their presence was no longer a secret, Nikita and Mentz both dashed towards the door to the third room.

Bursting into the room behind Mentz with her gun ready to fire, Nikita saw the two men they were looking for. Michael and Luong were in the opposite sides of the room, facing the center and each other. Both men were tied to chairs not unlike the one Section had in the white room. Apart from the chairs and three trolleys laden with machines and miscellaneous odds and ends the room was bare and empty.

"We found them. Situation cold. Contain the corridor, then get in here." Nikita said into the comm link. She flicked the safety of her gun back on and then ran to Michael. Mentz moved to check on Luong.

Michael's naked body was strapped to the metal chair by a number of steel and leather restraints. His head hung limply against his chest. He looked awful; in the glaring light from the lamps overhead his skin seemed gray where it wasn't black, blue, purple or a sickening yellow. There were cuts and burn marks on his arms, legs and chest. Dried blood formed black patches on his skin.

Nikita bent down to Michael and gently lifted his head a little. Michael's face looked like the rest of him. His bluish lips were swollen and split in not one but two places. There was a dark line of dried blood under his nose and his left eye was so swollen Nikita doubted it could be opened. Strands of his normally beautiful hair were glued together by something dark and sticky.

Nikita's throat contracted against the wail of desperation that threatened to escape her. Michael did not respond to her touch. His skin felt cold and clammy. Nikita slipped her fingers against his neck, looking for a pulse. For a long agonizing eternity there was nothing, then her fingers found a weak beat. Relieved, she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Nikita." It was Mentz from across the room.

Nikita turned to look at him. Mentz drew a finger across his neck to indicate that Luong was dead. Nikita switched her comm unit to B-channel used by team leaders to contact Bailey and advise him of their situation.

"We found them. Bailey, what's our status?"

"Ten minutes to ignition. You should have a clear egress. We're just doing some mopping up here," Bailey's voice answered in her ear.

Turner and Cass entered the room with the stretcher. Nikita addressed her team. "We're taking Luong's body with us. Mentz, get it down - you'll carry it back to the van. Turner, help me unstrap Michael and get him on the stretcher. He's still alive. Cass, check those trolleys for anything we need to know."

With that she turned to start working on Michael's restraints. Turner joined her and together they freed Michael and moved him to the stretcher. It was difficult work because they were in a hurry, but were trying to avoid touching him where they might worsen his injuries. The bruises in Michael's chest and abdomen indicated a possibility of internal bleeding. His left arm was clearly broken. Nikita couldn't stop herself from thinking of a rag doll. Her heart clenched in its icy confines.

When Michael was on the stretcher, Nikita knelt down on the floor next to him. She felt for his pulse again. This time she found it sooner, but it was still as weak as before. Giving into her own needs for a moment she caressed his cheek with her fingers, then bent down to give him a feather light kiss on the lips and to whisper: "Michael, it's me. We're taking you back to Section. You'll be fine. You'll be fine."

Nikita was amazed to see Michael awaken. His right eye opened, unfocused and hazy; his left eye opened just a fraction, but for a brief moment he looked directly at Nikita. It was as if her words had called him back from the abyss. Then his eyes closed again and he sank back into merciful, painless darkness.

Vitalized by the miracle she had witnessed, Nikita pushed her fears aside again and returned to her earlier cold effectiveness. She briskly got up from the floor, motioned for Turner and Cass to lift the stretcher and said, "Let's get outta here. This place will blow in four minutes."

CHAPTER 3

Coming back to Section from another mission ten days later, Nikita felt depressed. She was tired, cold and dirty. What was supposed to be a 'get in, get out' mission had turned into four days of mud fest with not much to show for it in terms of end results. Her clothes still felt damp, and after four days of not washing, she was sure she stank like a river rat. Even if she never saw another ditch again it would still be too soon.

She had had no news of Michael during the mission. Despite a multitude of injuries and the blood loss, he had survived the transportation back to Section and had lived through two successful operations. At the time Nikita had been sent back out he had been unconscious and weak, but stable. In her mind, she carried the image of his pale form lying in the med lab bed. During the mission she had spent countless hours crouching in a ditch, imagining all the complications that could arise to threaten his survival.

Walking up to Walter's counter, she started to offload her equipment. Walter finished with another operative and came to her. "How did it go?"

Nikita gave him a tired look. "Don't ask."

"That bad, huh?" Walter leaned closer. "Well, I have some news that should cheer you up. Michael has regained consciousness."

Nikita's heart leaped. Her fatigue forgotten, she smiled warmly at Walter. "When did that happen?"

"A couple of days ago."

"How is he?" Her voice was eager.

Walter shrugged his shoulders wearily. "I'm not sure. I haven't been to see him; it's been hell here for the past few days with the Nicosian thing and all... I heard they were running some tests on him."

"I'm going to see him before I debrief." There was nothing that could keep her away. Section policy and Madeline's manipulations be damned.

"Hey, you better get changed before that. I don't think they'll like it if you march into med lab with all that mud on you." Walter chuckled and eyed Nikita's mud covered clothes.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Thank you." Nikita leaned over the counter and gave Walter a quick peck on the cheek.

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

Nikita showered and changed into clean clothes as fast as she could. Gathering her still damp hair in a ponytail, she almost walked out of her quarters before turning back to check her appearance in the mirror. She didn't want Michael to worry about her when he needed to concentrate on his own recovery. Satisfied that the strains of the latest mission didn't show on her face, she then hurried towards med lab.

Walking into the private room where Michael had been placed she was delighted to see that his eyes were open. On the way there she had debated with herself whether or not to wake him up if he was sleeping. The fact that he didn't acknowledge her approach in any way made her feel uneasy, but when she came next to his bed she smiled tenderly down at him and said, "Hi, Michael."

There was no response. Nothing to indicate that he had heard her. Nothing to indicate he was aware of her presence. Nikita could feel the cold hand gripping her heart again. She leaned down to look him in the eye and gasped. There was no expression in Michael's green-grey eyes. They were not blank like so often before, but totally vacant. It was as if there was nothing but void behind his beautiful eyes.

She raised her head; frantically searching for something to save her from the abyss she felt before her. She looked at the indicators in the monitors around Michael's bed. She listened to the hum of the machines. She tried desperately to fight the fear that threatened to engulf her. She knew enough about medical matters to understand that according to the monitors he was not only alive, but was in fact much better off than four days ago. It didn't help.

She bent down again. His eyes were still the same. She put her hand against his cheek, caressing it and said "Michael, it's me, Nikita. Michael. MICHAEL!" No response. She pinched his cheek sharply with her fingernails. Still no response. She could feel her desperation begin to turn into rage. She lowered her head to his, and kissed him gently but firmly on the lips. There was absolutely no response. It was like she was kissing a corpse that hadn't cooled yet. She turned and almost ran out of the room.

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

A few minutes later the door to Madeline's office slid open and Nikita stormed in. She came to stand before Madeline's desk, leaning both hands on the tabletop to glare closer at the older woman calmly working on her computer.

"What have you done to him?" Nikita's words were seething with barely contained rage. She clenched her jaws together and her hands trembled a little on the table.

Madeline turned to regard her coolly, but not totally unkindly. "I take it you've been to med lab?" Madeline said. Her only answer was Nikita's murderous glare. If looks could kill Madeline would have turned into a heap of ash on the spot.

"He didn't respond to you?" Still no answer apart from a quick flicker in Nikita's eyes. "No response at all? That's too bad. I was hoping you could reach him."

Madeline's words and the slightly disappointed tone of her voice surprised Nikita. The edge of her anger vanished and she sat down heavily in the visitor's chair opposite Madeline. She shook her head as if to clear it. Then she pierced Madeline with her blue eyes again. "What the hell is going on here?"

Madeline looked into the distance before focussing her eyes back on Nikita and answering. "Michael regained consciousness two days ago. He's been like what you saw ever since. He doesn't respond to any stimulation - he doesn't seem to be aware of the world around him. It's as if he's suffering from major brain damage, but our tests indicate his brain functions are within normal limits."

"So what's wrong with him?" Nikita could feel the burning anger rising in her again. She didn't like what she was hearing and her desperation was looking for an outlet.

Madeline seemed to sense that and spoke almost soothingly. "We don't know yet. We are going to run some more tests. It's possible Purple October used some drugs on him that caused this."

"But... but he wasn't like this when we found him. I told you he opened his eyes for a few seconds. He was unfocused and in a lot of pain, but his eyes weren't empty!" Nikita's words were fierce and desperate.

Madeline nodded. Even if Michael had been better when rescued, it didn't really mean anything. Madeline had no intention of telling that to Nikita, though. "Hopefully, we'll know more in a couple of days. Until then, I'd like you to visit him at least once a day."

Madeline paused to look Nikita in the eye. She wanted to make sure Nikita got the message. "Spend some time in med lab. Talk to him, play music to him, do anything that might trigger a response. Within reasonable limits, of course."

If the situation hadn't been so grave Nikita could have laughed at the thought of Madeline asking her to spend time with Michael. She would certainly have had trouble suppressing her amusement at the other woman's way of pointing out that sex in the med lab was not allowed. Right now, even the idea of smiling at something seemed impossible.

She voiced her main concern: "And if he's still the same after a few days? "

Madeline's answer was short. "That's not your concern. Get some rest - you can debrief tomorrow."

Nikita's anger flared up at the curt dismissal but, instead of wasting her time trying to pry answers out of Madeline, she just nodded and stood up. As she walked out of the room, the fatigue pressing at her again was almost like a coat of lead on her shoulders. She felt so cold it was impossible to believe she might ever get warm again. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and cry herself to sleep.

CHAPTER 4

A week went by. Nikita didn't go out on missions, but was assigned to do non-critical research work in Section instead. She fell into a routine of spending at least an hour with Michael in med lab each morning and another one in the afternoon or evening. At her request Walter and Birkoff also made shorter daily visits to Michael.

Nikita had a CD player installed in Michael's room, and played music she knew he liked or thought that he might like. On the third day she brought in the CD they had danced to when Michael had manipulated her to give up on Eric and his escape plan. Perhaps playing the CD was giving Madeline, who was sure to monitor the room, another weapon against her in the future, but Nikita didn't care. She knew that whatever Madeline could come up with could not be worse than the current situation.

Nikita talked to Michael as if he could hear her. She greeted him on arrival and said goodbye before leaving. She held long monologues against soft background music. Nikita couldn't bring herself to talk about anything too personal, so she opted to tell him about the weather, the news or Section gossip instead. She didn't tell him about wars or terrorist attacks or natural disasters - surely that kind of news would not entice him to come back to the world. The news she talked about was of state visits or baby panda bears or art exhibitions.

She also made sure to touch him regularly. She caressed his now bearded face with the back of her hand on arrival and kissed him goodbye on his cool, dry lips. Sometimes she held his hand in hers when talking to him or sat by the bed and let her fingers brush up and down his arm. Nikita ached to lie on the bed and snuggle up to Michael just to feel his body against hers, but it wasn't possible because of the IV lines and monitor wires attached to his arms and upper body. Her main reason for not yielding to her longing, though, was that she wasn't sure Madeline would approve.

Michael's battered body showed signs of slowly healing, but there was no change in his mental state. Awake or in slumber, he didn't react to anything. Sometimes his face would twitch slightly but the doctors told Nikita it was just involuntary movement. The tests performed on Michael came up empty one after another. There was no trace of foreign chemicals in his body, no injury to be found in the brain or spinal cord.

Nikita couldn't help wondering how long it would take before Operations would order Michael cancelled. She wasn't sure if being dead was much different from what he was now, but she wasn't ready to give Michael up yet. She had nightmares about walking into his room to find him forever gone. In the more grueling version Operations ordered her to cancel Michael and Madeline handed her the pillow... She woke up several times every night trembling and gasping for air, her sheets a bundle around her.

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

It was Thursday afternoon. Walter was at his counter, going through the inventory for a departing mission. Nikita stood next to him, leaning her hip on the counter, playing with a piece of metal wire. Lately, she was spending a lot of time with Walter, when she wasn't in med lab. She had trouble concentrating on her work, and most people in Section were now uneasy in her company. Even Birkoff often seemed at a loss to find anything to say to her.

Walter always had a word or two to lighten her spirit, even if only temporarily. With Walter she could also just be quiet without feeling awkward. He understood how she felt, and he didn't feel the need to utter empty words to fill the silence. Once again he was the person she felt she could trust the most.

Thinking about that, she gathered her courage and took a breath, intending to pose to Walter the question that had plagued her day and night for the past week. "Walter..." she began hesitantly.

He didn't lift his eyes from his work. "Yeah, Sugar."

"It' s been well over a week now. There's no improvement in Michael. How long do you think it's going to be before..." Nikita choked on the words. "Before Operations orders Michael cancelled?"

Staring at the floor, trying hard to control the storm inside her she didn't notice that Walter had stopped his work to watch the hall before him, eyes a little wide.

He muttered to her: "Maybe you don't need to worry about that yet."

More surprised by his tone of voice than his words, she looked up to see him preoccupied with something. She turned around to see what was going on, and saw Operations, Madeline and a red haired woman she had never seen before walking down the hall. "Who's that with Operations and Madeline?" She inquired, her thoughts momentarily distracted from their grim path.

"Milady."

"Who?" She was thinking of a 'Three Musketeers' movie she'd seen on TV.

Walter was still staring at the place where the trio had disappeared around the corner. "Milady of Gamma Force."

"The what?"

Walter stirred back to life. "Yeah, I guess it was before your time. Look, I've got something to do in the bay. Wanna come over and keep me company for a while?"

Nikita looked at Walter, trying to figure out what was going on. Her interest had been piqued now, so she just nodded her assent and walked with him into the munitions bay. She settled herself as comfortably as possible on a big steel box, while he picked a small gadget from one of the shelves and played with it for a while.

"So?" Nikita prompted Walter.

He cleared his voice. "A few years before you came here, there was a semi-official international group in play called Gamma Force. They were a small organization - maybe twenty people in all. Army screw-ups from around the world. Highly trained people with attitude problems, you know - problems with taking orders and stuff - or views that didn't go down well with their stuffy superiors. A major Mac Andrews put them together and made them an independent unit with a hell of a reputation. They worked freelance for a number of western governments. Milady was Mac's second in command."

"She was their Madeline?" Nikita asked.

"Sort of. Milady got a reputation for being able to get into the opponent's head - and for being lethal. They all participated in field ops, of course, and since theirs was strictly a contract organization I don't think she did much interrogation. They went and grabbed a mark and then turned the poor bastard over to whichever government was paying the bill. Some people also said she was responsible for coming up with the ideas for some of their more notorious capers."

"Capers?"

Walter smiled crookedly. "Well, these people had a warped sense of humor that they liked to indulge every now and then... Like the time they had been contracted to check out personnel access security in Pentagon by trying to find a way in without inside help. A week after accepting the job Mac escorted Milady into a big wig meeting in there - uninvited of course. According to the story she was wearing high heels and a tight skirt. They made it look like they had just walked in the front door."

Walter's eyes seemed to warm at the thought. Nikita wondered to herself if it was at the thought of these people walking into Pentagon like it was a Sunday picnic or at the thought of Milady's attire. She decided not to make a bet on it. Instead she asked: "What happened to Gamma Force?"

Walter winced. Clearly, he didn't enjoy the next part of the story. "They made enemies, not just on the other side, but within the big players in the military organizations and governments of the countries they worked for. A lot of people who were supposed to be on their side didn't like Gamma Force because they couldn't control it. So somebody set them up to be exterminated."

Nikita wasn't really surprised by what Walter told her. Gamma Force's world had been just the kind of world she lived in, too. She felt sorry for these unknown people nonetheless.

Walter continued his story. "One night Gamma Force went out on a mission to an abandoned warehouse. It was a trap. They were ambushed and shot to death. All but two - Milady and her man, a guy they called Dickens. She had been shot in both legs, couldn't move. Somehow he managed to get them out of there and into a canal near the warehouse."

"So they got away." Nikita found she was actually glad for the couple. She could easily relate to their situation.

Walter looked at Nikita with sorrow and compassion in his eyes. He knew what she was thinking. "The next morning some guy walking his dog by the canal a few miles away from the warehouse found Milady still halfway in the water and got her into a hospital. Dickens' body was found floating in the river some 200 miles further south three days later."

Nikita felt her spirits sink. She had never enjoyed tragic love stories. Something about the story Walter had told her didn't quite make sense to her, though. "So if she was the only one left and badly hurt, how come they didn't finish her off too? Surely they could have gotten to her in the hospital."

Walter shrugged. "Don't know. They came to regret that, though."

"What do you mean?"

"She was out of the picture a long time. When she came back about four years ago she had intel on who was responsible for destroying Gamma Force. I mean the big guys who had given the order. She went after them with gusto - most of them are now pushing up daisies. Some killed themselves before she could get to them - they preferred an easy way out." There was a hint of reluctant respect in Walter's tone of voice.

"As opposed to what?" Nikita's voice was incredulous.

"Well, she threw one guy down from the Empire State Building. Officially it was a suicide of course - but hey, if you've ever been there you know that doesn't make sense. It's pretty impossible to jump down from there. How she did it, I don't know. Anyway, the guy went flying and he was still alive - talk about having time to consider your mistakes before the end..." Walter's voice trailed off.

Nikita thought she understood the picture now. "So Section recruited her from prison?"

Walter shook his head. "Hell no, she's not Section. Nobody could ever prove she'd done anything - she was never prosecuted. My guess is she made a deal with somebody very high up. She's now freelance, except I hear nowadays she mostly works as a therapist. The word is, she's supposed to be pretty good at screwing operatives' heads back on. That's probably why she's here now - to have a look at Michael. Operations must be pretty desperate to have Michael talking again."

Nikita didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

Walter's tone of voice became dry. "Let's just say he's not Milady's biggest fan. She and Gamma Force got the better of him on a couple of occasions and he didn't like it." Walter shook his head empathetically. "No, he didn't like being out-maneuvered at all." Walter glanced at his watch and then touched the gadget he had placed between them.

With a start Nikita understood that it must be a surveillance-blocking device of some sort. Walter hadn't wanted anyone listening on them. She couldn't ask him why, now that surveillance was working again, so she just stood up to leave. "Thanks for telling that story to me, Walter. I'll see you later."

Walking down a corridor towards her own quarters Nikita thought about Milady. A part of her felt sorry for the woman who had lost so much. She also considered the fact that anyone who had out-maneuvered Operations even once could be a formidable ally to have on your side. On the other hand, Walter's story about how ruthless and vengeful Milady was bothered Nikita a lot. She wasn't sure she wanted to let a person capable of Milady's alleged deeds anywhere near a helpless Michael. The problem was, she knew she had no say in the matter.

CHAPTER 5

Sara was standing at the foot of Michael's bed in med lab. She had spent two hours studying his medical records, talking to Madeline and the medical staff, monitoring him and making a few tests of her own. Now she just stood there with her eyes closed, meditating. Then she opened her blue-grey eyes and looked again at the man lying before her.

How funny that I should find what I've been looking for here in Section One. The perfect set-up for my needs. And the added joy of rattling Paul Wolfe. Welcome along for the ride, Michael. If you are lucky, maybe you'll be a little better off when we are through.

She walked out of med lab to find a quiet male operative in black clothes waiting to escort her back to Operations' office. Walking behind the man, whose name she didn't even know, Sara studied the view. She liked the look of his dirty blond hair and broad shoulders, but his butt was too flat for her taste.

Nothing to grab onto. Not much fun.

She refrained from pursing her lips in disappointment. She knew she was being monitored.

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

Sara was a little surprised to find Operations alone in his office but made no reference to it. He got up from behind his desk to gesture her to a seat in front of it. She declined his offer of a drink. Operations sat down again, his face a mask of polite interest. Hers mirrored his closely, but she made an effort to inject a little more pleasantness into it by smiling ever so slightly.

Operations opened the conversation. "So, what's your opinion? What's wrong with Michael?"

"I'd say he's suffering from a rare form of regressive psychosis..." She was cut off by Operations.

"Save the psycho babble for the official report. Just tell me in English."

Sara took a deep breath to play for a little time.

Let him think I'm looking for a way to explain this to him.

"Okay - let's look at it this way: If you're in physical pain and it becomes intolerable, you will eventually pass out. That's your system's way of protecting itself from sensory overload. The same principle more or less applies here - the mind protects itself from an intolerable situation by closing in on itself, cutting off all connections outside."

Sara paused to give Operations time to digest her words. "Scientifically speaking we don't understand this phenomenon very well - it's almost non-existent outside our line of work. Even we don't usually see many cases per year - and besides, the powers that be prefer to put psych resources into finding new, exciting ways of breaking minds apart rather than studying something like this." She gave him her best ironical smile.

Operations pressed on: "What's the prognosis?"

"Well - the good news is that Michael will come around sooner or later. How long that's going to take is impossible to say. The bad news is that he's going to be thoroughly messed-up when he does. Patients tend to exhibit destructive behavior after becoming cognizant of their surroundings."

Operations was irritated by Sara's lapse back into 'psycho babble'. He made a mental note to let Madeline know he appreciated the fact that she didn't use these kinds of expressions around him. He tried his best to pierce Sara with a steely look. "What does that mean?"

"Have you heard about the Jennings incident they had at the Agency last year?"

Operations' look showed his distaste. "Yes. I heard it looked like something out of a gore movie."

"That's what it means - and as far as I know, he wasn't anywhere near Michael's standards in cold ops. So you have a potential time bomb in your hands. Unless he takes the short road and just kills himself." Sara spoke matter-of-factly.

Well, that should be an explanation even you can relate to, Paul. Your turn.

Operations obliged her by asking: "What can we do about the situation?"

"You have three alternatives. The easy way is to cancel him and be done with it." She stopped to indicate that this was surely the preferable choice.

Operations wasn't satisfied yet. "What are the other two?"

"You keep him under 24 hour surveillance and wait for him to come around, then make sure he can't harm himself or others, and start intensive therapy." Sara paused to look at him again.

Operations inclined his head to ask her to continue.

"Or you can try to coax him back. As you know, I've worked with similar patients - I use an unorthodox kind of shock therapy to draw patients back to this world. The advantage with this method is that the patient might come back sooner than otherwise, and the situation is contained. Also, the therapy can begin as soon as I manage to establish a contact with the patient. I think it helps the recovery."

"You said 'MIGHT come back sooner'?" Operations didn't sound convinced.

"As I said, it's impossible to predict how long it will take for a certain patient to come around. It's impossible to say that it couldn't have happened spontaneously in the same time frame as with therapy." She shrugged her shoulders.

"However, the patients I have treated have all come back within seven weeks max. The average time is three and a half weeks. With patients in general the average is seven weeks. Of course, with such a small number of incidents these numbers aren't really scientifically sound." She gave him a slightly wider smile to let him know how she felt about the science world's view of averages.

He smiled a thin smile back to indicate he shared her feelings on the matter. "So - would you be interested in taking Michael on as your patient here in Section One?"

Well, you certainly took your sweet time getting to that. Okay, here goes!

"Yes, I would. On one condition: you sign him over to me. When I'm done he has a choice of remaining in Section One or leaving it."

"That's impossible!" Momentarily taken aback by her demand, Operations virtually spat the words out.

I just love rattling your cage, Paul.

Sara let a little annoyance seep into her eyes and voice. "Paul, I have better things to do with my life than to spend several months working on this guy - just to see him cancelled in the end because he couldn't get back to Section standards."

Operations eyes narrowed as he considered Sara's words.

You hadn't considered that possibility before. What exactly do you want out of this guy anyway? Well, one point for me and on with the attack.

"He's a man, not a machine - even if we both work our butts off there is no way to guarantee that he will be able to do the job. Hell, his psyche might even decide not to heal at all, if it means coming back to this life." Sara made a little round gesture with her hand to take in the whole of Section.

Operations had regained his composure and regarded Sara with polite interest again. When he spoke, it was as if he was debating a theoretical point, not discussing the fate of a man. "Even if I wanted to sign him over to you, that's impossible. You know that. Our rules simply don't allow it."

"Mmmm..." She nodded her head to let him know she understood his problem. "Maybe you should discuss this with George."

Her mask was firmly in place; there was no sign of glee on Sara's face. She saw Operations' eyes narrowing just a bit again as he processed the meaning behind her words.

Oh yes, I've been there... Don't you just hate it! On the other hand - I don't recall you being this easy to read. I'm better at this than I was before - maybe you are too?

She couldn't refrain from adding: "Besides, I'm pretty sure that given the choice he'd still decide to stay. Nikita's here, after all..."

Operations ignored her last comment. "Yes, maybe I will talk to George. Is there something else you require if you take this on?"

"I can't work from med lab. I need a number of quiet rooms with privacy. Furniture, equipment, food, drink, medications, muscle for help - the logistics. Use of any Section facilities I deem necessary. And your help in making sure we get the co-operation we need."

"From whom?" Operations raised his eyebrows slightly.

"From everyone in Section. Including Nikita." She looked him dead in the eye.

He smiled a smile that would have sent shivers down the back of somebody less jaded. "That's not a problem."

She smiled back. "Good."

"When could you start?"

"As soon as we reach an agreement on my terms, I can start the next day."

Rising from his chair, Operations said: "Thank you for your time. I'll let you know as soon as possible."

I'm sure you will, Paul.

Sara stood up as well and let Operations lead her out of the room. They made polite small talk on the way out of Section.