Lost Soul

All around the thunder crashed and the rain pounded on the van roof, a staccato rhythm that had seemed to be eternal. Walter sat hunched up over a complex piece of circuitry, pulling at loose wires and dissecting the components out one by one, stopping occasionally to add to his sketch of the design.

She sat in front of the computer monitor and brought up yet again the schematic for the territory they were searching - thick tropical rainforest - hiding in its depths somewhere a group that were launching long range ballistic missiles. Birkoff's telemetry had only led them to the launcher itself - which turned out to be a sophisticated remotely operated piece of hardware. Walter had come along for onsite analysis of any additional hardware they could pick up. The terrain was too overgrown for the van - the Chevrolet Suburban had also come to a standstill leaving the team with no option but to take it in turns to search the area one sector at a time.

One member of team A perished as his body bounced down the escarpment and into the turbulent river below, another clung fiercely to some tree roots and managed to clamber back to the ridge where he collapsed in a heap. The other member of the team - Corallie, a good friend of Nikita's - had used her rifle to snag herself in dense foliage but was hanging precariously over the edge, her feet kicking to gain a foothold in the freshly exposed soil. If it hadn't have been for Michael pushing her forward she would have joined her colleague in the torrents below. She wondered where he was - just then her comm unit crackled in her ear -

They found Corallie assisting her fellow team member who had managed to clamber away from the jaws of death - he had seen the man who had fallen over the edge - but reassured Nikita that it had not been Michael. Corallie had managed to escape with minor abrasions and a wrenched ankle, the man - Johnson - had deep cuts in the palms of his hands where he had clawed his way up through the sharp flints that broke the surface of the soil. Nikita had helped to clean and dress these while getting him to report on what had happened.

The two survivors pieced together what they remembered occurring - Michael had been bringing up the rear - he had heard something in the undergrowth and signalled for the rest of the team to wait. He had gone into the trees and shortly after come running out - urging them all to run. It was about then that Corallie thought she'd seen the flare of a rocket launcher in the trees behind them - Michael had pushed her forward and that was the last she had seen of him.

"You only have half an hour of light left - it's time to come back, you have two injured team members - we'll continue the search tomorrow." She could hear him sighing - the others had searched as much as they could in the failing light and had still not found Michael- his comm channel was open, but there had been no response.

"Acknowledged - returning now". She looked about in the rain - there was no indication of where he could be, but she knew in her heart that he was out there somewhere and that it was up to her to find him. With a heavy soul she turned her back on the tangle of trees and undergrowth, raising her rifle ready for any more attacks.

Fifty metres or so below the ridge, beneath an overhanging shelf of dislodged soil, lay a still figure, his black mission pants clinging tightly to his thighs, soaked through with rain they shone in a dull reflection of what light there was left. A fallen tree pinned his shoulder to the ground, where he sank into the soft glutinous mud. His face was pale and a thin trickle of blood traced its path across the mud splatters from where he'd hit his head on an outcrop of rocks.

"Not necessarily - if that was the case - they would have attacked the vehicles and not the team. It seems to me that Michael must have stumbled on something and they were scaring the team off-" Walter tried to present a logical explanation - the others were fatigued and understandably thrown off kilter by the sudden attack.

"Walter - if Michael's out there and injured he could be dead by morning." Nikita had moved across the van to stand inches from the older man's face - close enough that he could see the tears sparkling in the ocean depths of her eyes. She was silently pleading for him to assist her.

Corallie put her hand up, as did everyone else, they all knew she would have insisted on a search if it had been any of them that were missing. They also were worried about Michael, without his presence they were all less self assured, they trusted Nikita of that there was no question, but Michael's cool professionalism made them feel almost as impervious to harm as he appeared to be.

"Nikita - count me in - Johnson can stay here and guard the fort. We should keep one fully functional op here just in case you run into trouble, and my emergency first aid ranking is higher than anyone else you're taking -" Walter spoke softly so that only she could hear Nikita nodded - acknowledging Walter's unspoken observation that Michael's prolonged silence implied that if he was not dead, he was probably badly hurt.

Once equipped with night vision goggles, rifles, flashlights and what seemed to be the entire first aid provision of the van, along with stretcher, they began to retrace the trail left earlier. Nikita went ahead, following the trampled foliage and muddy footprints they had left in their wake.

When they reached the ridge they split into two pairs - Walter taking one of the younger ops with him while Nikita went in the other direction with a recently transferred op by the name of Clarkson. They walked carefully and steadily, trying to avoid the newly exposed soil that sucked at heir feet, they shone their flashlights over the edge looking for any sign of a body….Nikita's heart stood still as she caught Walter's gasp -

She ran back to where he stood looking down towards the river. Half buried in the mud they could just make out a man's body- one leg and an arm were still above the mud - if they had waited until morning there would have been nothing left to see. Walter's flashlight flickered over the body - the head was not visible - the tree resting on the man's shoulder obscured their view.

"I'm the lightest - I'll go down first." She ordered giving no room for discussion - the rest of the rescue party nodded grimly, and Walter wiped his forehead and prayed that she didn't find a corpse waiting for her - if she did he didn't know what they would do.

It was a long way down and they had to tie together several coils of rope before attaching a harness that would allow Nikita to abseil down the surface towards the ledge where they had spotted the body. Walter had tried to persuade to let one of the others go - but Nikita argued that their muscle power was more use up here.

As she slowly descended she looked over her shoulder - it seemed as if she was not getting any closer, but then suddenly she was there, she yanked at the rope - letting the men above know she wanted to take control - not wanting to cause another landslide.

The ledge was reasonably stable as she tentatively placed her weight on it - she kept the rope attached just in case. She knelt down in the mud alongside the man's head - she couldn't shift the tree and its weight was pressing the body deeper and deeper into the mud. As she reached his head she could see that the mud was encroaching towards his mouth - she scooped it away so that she could reach towards his neck and feel for a pulse.

It was there - thready and irregular- but still there. She shone the light into his face - it was then for the first time that she saw the blood - the rain had caused it to mingle with the mud splatters, the overall effect was a gruesome mask of red-brown that trailed grotesquely across his features.

She undid the rope from around her waist - detaching it from the harness. Then looping it around the tree, she tugged at it - hoping the men above could work out what she wanted them to do, then she lay down next to Michael - trying to shield his body from the branches that may have otherwise dragged him over the edge. The tree slowly lifted away from him and when it was clear, Nikita pushed it off of him and then lowered it gently back on the ledge - any abrupt actions could cause them both to go tumbling over the edge in a fresh fall of earth and rock.

Now that the weight was removed from Michael she could assess his injuries better, he seemed relatively unharmed, and she couldn't understand why he looked so deathly pale. Much as she hated to admit it - Walter was right, he should have come down to check out Michael's injuries - she did not know if she should move him or not - he was so still. She touched his forehead - it was cool, the damp mud must be draining his body of heat - she had to get him out of it before he started to suffer from hypothermia - although chances were he already was. Nikita had Walter lower down a blanket - she carefully placed it along one side of Michael and then went around to where he was embedded in the mud - she placed her hands carefully under his hips and chest and started to gently lever him out of the ground and onto the blanket. As she did so the full extent of his injuries became horrifically evident to her - he had landed on the side that had remained unseen until now.

The left side of his face was covered in blood from an ugly gash on his head, and from the awkward position of his left arm and leg it appeared that both could have been broken. His shoulder was possibly dislocated and he probably had a few cracked ribs into the bargain.

Walter made the descent more slowly and less elegantly than Nikita - the field stretcher did not help. He found her stroking the young man's hair away from his face, the wet strands clinging to her fingers, the tips of which were stained red with blood. Walter placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her - she looked up at him, her eyes brimming over with tears that ran down her face with the rain drops -

"It'll hurt less now than when he wakes up -" he explained as the sickening sound of the bone popping back into place could be heard. Walter tried hard not to let Nikita see the expression of distress on his face- she always could read him like a book. But as he looked at the broken form of Michael - his clothes drenched with rain and plastered with mud, he doubted if the young man would survive to the top of the ridge never mind to the next day.

The injuries were all down the left side of his body - he seemed to have fallen onto his side - perhaps that may have saved him from serious internal injuries. However, it was the head wound that worried Walter the most - by flashlight he could see the slight distortion that indicated a fractured skull. He daren't tell Nikita about that, but he carefully bound the operative's head in crepe bandages - treating it as if it was as fragile as an egg.

They worked quickly - securing Michael's injured arm to his chest, Nikita pulling the bandages under his body as Walter gently raised him up off the ground. Then they bound his legs together so that hey acted as splints for each other. Once this was done they lifted him onto the field stretcher and strapped him onto it - tightly enough so that he would not fall off, but not so tight that his wounds would be made worse.

Nikita was hot and sticky - the humidity was almost unbearable now, the rain rising back up from the floor of the forest as steam. The path was slippery with mud and leaves, but the operatives carrying the stretcher only faltered once. It was nearly dawn as they caught sight of the van and the Suburban in a small clearing not far from the forestry track they had driven along yesterday. Nikita checked in with Corallie before they approached any closer - once she received the all-clear they broke from cover quickly and were welcomed by the doors of the van flying open as the waiting operatives jumped out to help them get the stretcher into the back.

"OK - Corallie - you are a class 3 op - you take the Suburban, Johnson and the new lad. I'll get Clarkson to drive the van and I'll help Walter with Michael - we head for the pick up point. No communication unless absolutely necessary - got it?"

In daylight he looked far worse if that was possible - his face was mottled with bruises and clotted blood caked his hair and skin along with dried mud. He had still showed no sign of regaining consciousness - she was afraid he would die before they reached the van, now she wondered if he'd make it back to Section. She checked his pulse once more, just to confirm to herself that she hadn't lost him yet, as she did so she felt Walter's arm around her shoulder.

Nikita sat vigil next to Michael on the return journey - Walter had set up an emergency plasma IV tube into the undamaged right arm. He had also done his best to clean up the head wound to reduce the risk of infection - although he dreaded to think what microbes were present in the warm mud that they had pulled his body from last night.

A quick check on pupil reflexes indicated that he was still responding, this reassured Walter slightly, he was worried at the shallow breathing and weak pulse, but if there had been no pupil reflex action he would have feared the worst - that there was serious brain damage.

Nikita helped strip off the damp clothes and gently dry his skin before covering him with blankets - this was difficult - they had to resort to cutting away the clothing rather than dismantling the bandages that were holding his possibly broken limbs in position. The bruising down his left side had become a sickening purple colour now with tinges of green - all the way from his left temple and cheek, along his left arm, around his ribs and across the curve of his pelvis and then continuing over the taut line of his thigh. Nikita was almost grateful he was unconscious, as the pain would be excruciating if he were awake.

She sponged away the blood from his face so that Walter could apply antiseptic salve to the abrasions - she tried hard not to look at his head - but her eyes were drawn to the injury - Walter's excessive care when bandaging had given her clear evidence of its severity.

She was torn between wanting him to open his eyes and speak to her - even if it were nothing more than a terse command to report on the status of the mission. Anything to know that Michael was still there - trapped inside an injured body, but another part of her did not want to witness the suffering he was no doubt going to experience- surgery and recuperation, followed by reconditioning. That was of course dependant on the degree of his injuries, Section could decide he was not worth operating on - permanent brain damage maybe - perhaps he'd be better off not waking up at all. It occurred to her that she could help - he was so close to the edge of existence, she would only need to give him the gentlest of nudges to send him into the oblivion he appeared to be seeking for most of his waking hours.

From what she knew of his nightmares, his sleeping hours were also filled with the same desires. Morphine in the IV bag would do the trick - she glanced up at Walter - he was busy discussing the route to the egress point with Birkoff, he wouldn't notice.

Walter had unpacked the morphine in case Michael came round and needed painkillers - but he made it perfectly clear to Nikita that they could not administer the powerful drug while he remained unconscious - it would be far too dangerous. She picked up the hypodermic, slid off the plastic cover from the needle and pushed it through the rubber seal into the vial - slowly she pulled the plunger back allowing the potentially lethal liquid to be drawn into the barrel of the syringe.

"Michael - what would you want me to do? End it now? Let you drift off without ever waking up? I wish you could give me a sign - something - anything - what do you want?" She held his hand as she whispered to him - he was no doubt oblivious to her words - but she couldn't make this decision for him without trying to find out what it was that he wanted.

She held the hypodermic needle in her right hand and used her left hand to stroke away the curls from his forehead, they were still spiky with dried blood. She brushed the back of her hand against his skin, now warm as if slightly feverish - a tear crept silently down her cheek and splashed onto his face running in a red tinged trail towards his lips. As her tear touched his lips, they parted slightly as if he were about to speak - his mouth looked so beautiful - as if waiting to be kissed. She allowed herself to be drawn into the illusion and bent forward - touching her lips to his, tasting the saltiness of her tears mingled with the traces of blood from the cuts on his face. She could feel his breath, warm and moist on her skin and knew intuitively that it was not time to bid him a final good night.

"Let's leave that to the medics…" He tried but failed to disguise his concern for the seriously injured young man. He had never seen him in quite such a bad way before and it had shaken him more than he thought possible. Like everyone else at Section he tended to think that whenever Michael got hurt he would be out of Medlab within days, seemingly as good as new. This time he could tell it was going to be different.

Gilmore had prepared the galley of the transport plane for emergency surgery - the stainless steel tables had been thoroughly disinfected and he'd got whole blood of Michael's blood group stored in the fridge, along with a number of drugs that he thought they may need. The hotplate had come in useful for boiling up water for sterilising the surgical tools he'd brought along; non-metallic equipment could be microwaved to kill microbes.

X-ray equipment would have been useful - but that would have to wait until they got back to Section - from Walter's descriptions of the injuries, the limbs could be placed in inflatable splints until they could be accurately diagnosed and set appropriately. If ribs were cracked they could also be bound temporarily. It was the head injury that was most serious - if fragments of bone had splintered and were embedded into the soft tissue of the brain they would need to be removed urgently before they caused excessive harm. Without X-ray or MRI it would be difficult to assess the extent of the damage to his skull - and as for trauma to the meninges or actual brain tissue itself - any subdural haematoma present would need to be drained before the build up of pressure within the skull became dangerous. He cursed the fact that he had to rely on very basic diagnostic tools - but he owed Michael his life and was determined to repay the debt.

Nikita sat hunched up in her seat on the transport plane - her back muscles tense and aching - she had been watching the curtains that shielded the rear portion of the passenger compartment for far too long. Her neck was stiff and despite the exhaustion, she didn't dare sleep, feeling that if she was to do so, the link between her and Michael would be broken and that he wouldn't make it through surgery.

She should have been writing up her report - and the lap top sat next to her accusingly - but how could she write when her thoughts kept drawing her back to what was happening to Michael. The gun in its holster was digging into her ribs, but she never got round to moving into a more comfortable position.

Eventually her constant observation of the curtain was rewarded as it twitched back and Gilmore's face appeared his fair hair sticking up at odd angles released from the confines of the green surgical cap that he'd pulled off and thrown on the floor. His chin was covered with stubble and as she scanned his face for signs of how the operation had gone she detected a faint expression of disappointment and frustration in the set of his lips and the way his eyelids drooped down over his normally sparkly blue eyes - now they were dull and seemed to be focussed on somewhere over her right shoulder - damn she thought, he can't look me in the eye.

"Too early to tell - we stabilised the fractured limbs - they'll have to be set properly at Section when we get back, they're probably not as bad as they look, the mud acted like a cast holding the bones in place till you reached him-"

Mark Gilmore gestured at the seat opposite Nikita and she nodded in agreement that if he felt the need to sit down for the next part, he should do so. He collapsed into the seat and stretched back his shoulders, which gave an audible click as the doctor tried to straighten his back. He leaned forward and looked straight into Nikita's eyes - her body language demanded the full truth, with no bullshit.

"OK - the head trauma - the skull seems to be intact - no fragments of bone have penetrated the brain, however, the bone has been refracted inwards, compacting the tissue of the frontal lobe of the left cerebrum. We managed to tease the section of bone away releasing the pressure on the underlying area, but damage has been done. There's no way I can assess the extent of the damage without scans. I can't judge how far the bruising extends into the cerebral hemisphere, only that it does. I'm sorry love - wish I could tell you more, but under these conditions I can do bugger all else."

Nikita rubbed her head with her hand, unconsciously massaging the identical area which Gilmore had been operating on Michael. She tried to figure out if what he had told her was the good news or the bad news and if she dared ask another question.

Nikita didn't speak again for the remainder of the journey - she had insisted on sitting next to Michael once they had finished cleaning him up and no-one interfered with her as she sat next to the stretcher, holding one of his hands with both of hers. She wanted to stroke his head - but the stark white bandages that stood in sharp contrast to the darkening bruises on his cheeks, put her off - she was scared that she may make the damage worse. She held onto him afraid that this would be the last time - trying to recall what she had last said to him, when she had last looked into his eyes. She was really frightened that this could be the last few hours they would have together and he was not even aware of it.

The final approach to the airstrip alerted her to the need to return to Section mode - after all she was now team leader and Operations would no doubt want a report as soon as she stepped into his territory. She crouched down close to Michael and kissed him softly on the mouth, pushing aside the tubes that extruded from his nostrils, supplying his lungs with oxygen.

"Easy Mark - you're more use to our patients if you stay in one piece yourself-" Grahams placed a hand on Gilmore's shoulder, he was used to the way that Section, and in particular Operations, chose to work and could tell this was an argument they weren't going to win.

That was why the lights had been dimmed. He could barely make out what was going on in the periphery of his vision - an altercation between two men in white coats and a dark suited, white haired man. The latter came sharply into focus as he suddenly came towards Michael.

Michael struggled to cope with a blinding headache and this man's insistent questions - he could understand the words, but didn't know what he was talking about and his responses kept coming out in French - perhaps if he concentrated harder.

With that he walked out of the area, not seeing Nikita who had allowed herself to slide down the wall and was sitting quietly with her arms wrapped around her knees. As soon as Operations had left she stood up slowly and wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes made her way to Michael's bedside.

She approached Michael carefully - taking in the dreadful bruising and the look of pain in the depths of his clouded green eyes. He was glancing around him - trying to find something familiar to latch onto - something to help him remember. He looked lost, scared almost, like he was when she rescued him from Perez - but worse, he must be in so much pain and he doesn't remember a thing…

Luckily the soil analysis allowed the medics to isolate the bacterium responsible for Michael's fever which flared up as the pain medication suppressed his immune system. An appropriate antibiotic was identified and within a week he was stabilised once more. Operations had called every day to enquire of his progress and had been down twice to see if Michael could answer his questions.

Nikita had sat by him during the height of the fever and although he muttered away to himself in French she never heard him utter that phrase again. The doctors had been forced to restrain him to stop him from pulling the IV lines from his veins as he tossed and turned. The sight of him strapped down and in such torment almost broke her heart, she wanted so much to just take him in her arms and rock him gently and kiss him better, but all she could do was stroke her fingertips across his hot skin and let him know she was there.

When the infection had passed its worst stage she came by less often - she was on active status after all and had been kept busy. Another week passed by and she returned to Section, nursing a sprained wrist - first she had to check in her gear with Walter and then to Medlab to have it treated and while she was there she could check on Michael's progress.

"Walter - he's been repressing so much - do they have any idea what they're doing to him?" Nikita was horrified at the prospect of Michael having some unenlightened shrink stumbling through the carefully concealed memories that she knew haunted his sleep

Nikita turned her head to catch sight of a petite woman, with short dark brown hair in a neat bob, which yelled out 'control freak'. However, the woman was dressed in a figure hugging black coat that flared out from the waist, looking more like a cloak the way it swirled about her legs, and as she came to a halt opposite Birkoff it parted to reveal shiny black vinyl pants. Nikita was surprised at the outfit but not by the effect it had, the vinyl stretched over the woman's shapely legs and squeaked slightly as she adjusted her position to catch the Birkoff's attention. As Birkoff looked up, it was possible to observe the perspiration appearing across his brow.

Nikita sized the woman up from the polished toes of her 4" stiletto heels to the meticulously straight parting in her hair and decided that she did not like what she saw. She was still in her mission gear, her own hair anything but under control, but she felt as if she was on her own territory as she strode across towards Dr Karoff.

"I can't tell you Nikita - it's more than my life is worth…. seriously. I can tell you one thing though - he is still here in Section for now, but she wants to move him out of here. If you want to see him you're going to have to do it through Madeline or Operations."

As she sat on the edge of the examination couch he carefully removed her boots - then she stood up again and he skilfully undid the fastenings like a kiddie opening a Christmas present. Then he eased his hands inside the fabric so that he could ease the clothing away from her legs with the minimum of friction - Nikita couldn't help but make a mental note that he was 'good' at this.

Then as he gently turned her so that he could examine the back of her thigh, she made sure her hips wriggled provocatively in his face and that he appreciated the thong underwear she had slipped on, so much comfier when running in mission pants, a handy tip she had been given by her one-time trainer.

As soon as she could detect an increased breathing rate from the poor physician, who was trying so hard to remain professional as he palpated her thigh muscles, Nikita went in for the kill. She suddenly gripped his hand between her legs trapping it mere millimetres from her panties and then whispered…

"Sorry - must have clenched by reflex - it doesn't seem so bad after all - can you do something with my wrist?" As Gilmore wrapped his white coat around himself to hide his embarrassment, Nikita tugged her pants back over her hips, sat down and proffered her arm. While bandaging it up to keep the ligaments in place, Gilmore slid in a piece of paper between the layers of gauze. Whenever he was close enough he whispered brief reports on Michael's condition - updating her on his physical progress.

"We have to keep an eye on him - he's still confined to bed rest until the arm and leg finish healing, luckily his legs were just badly bruised and the edge of his hip-bone was chipped. He should be mobile within two weeks." Nikita whispered back-

Nikita waited in the shadows until she saw Karoff walk up to Birkoff. Then she slipped unobserved towards the elevator that led to the level where Michael was being held. She checked the scrap of paper passed to her by Gilmore and memorised the code numbers before swallowing it. As she entered the code on the panel outside the door she looked all around but the floor appeared to be deserted. Inside the room it was bright - this struck her as odd, since Michael had shown an aversion to high light intensities since his head injury. He was restrained on a bed in the centre of the room and his eyes were red and seemed to be watering…

She belatedly scanned the room for surveillance equipment but couldn't spot anything obvious. She walked over to the side of the bed and spoke again - this time shielding his eyes from the light so that he could see her without having to squint.

"Nikita - yes if I concentrate hard, but the drugs make it difficult. I have to tell Operations what I saw - I think it must be important." His voice was desperate - and she could see the effort it took to speak to her - his eyes began watering again as her shadow moved from his face.

He glanced up to see Holly Karoff shedding her clothing in a heap until she stood there in nothing but a lacy red and black bra and panty set. She approached him in a purely predatory manner and unbuckled the straps that held his arms and legs in place. She pulled away the sheets to reveal him - wearing nothing but fresh white bandages. She smiled salaciously, tracing her blood red fingertips over his curves from neckline to crotch and back again all the while licking her dark red glossy lips with the tip of her pink tongue.

Nikita had gone to her quarters in Section to get changed - having seen Karoff's outfit she chose a white ensemble to stand out in contrast to the creature that they had now loosed on Michael. She had to see Operations and she had to be convincing - the only way to make headway had to be by subterfuge. If she went in screaming that Karoff was trying to get laid by Michael, she would be laughed all the way to van egress. No it had to be convincing.

Nikita knew he was lying on two counts - the first being that very little actually existed that could embarrass him and secondly, she noticed that his eyes had widened in shock briefly. Why was he protecting Karoff? Walter shook his head as if he'd been hallucinating - but it sure had looked like the shrink was adopting some pretty unorthodox treatment methods, he wondered if she saw patients privately.

"The way she touches him - caresses is nearer the truth. Also the look on her face is well - you know - like she wants him all to herself. She won't allow us to administer the drugs, she insists on doing that herself. In fact the ones we leave are not touched."

"I'm not sure - but I want you to run checks on this female, I'd ask Walter and Birkoff but she's got them wrapped around her little finger. I want to know why they called her in and where she came from. Also - I want you to check on the drugs she's giving him - Michael said they were making his memory recall worse."

"I checked them already - standard medications to alleviate trauma to the frontal lobes. A general anti-psychotic as well as lithium carbonate which is used to modify mood swings, usually associated with manic depression. Heavy stuff granted - not necessarily my choice-"

"Be quiet - there is no Nikita - you imagined her …your mind is playing tricks on you. Don't worry, once we get you home you'll remember everything you need to. Perhaps some more medicine would be a good idea, you seem very anxious -"

"Non - Je ne veux plus de médecine!" Without getting off his body she leaned over and opened a vial of small yellow pills, she took one and forced open his jaw, then held his nose and covered his mouth with her hand until he was forced to swallow. She was aware of how long he could hold his breath - but by squeezing her thighs about his ribcage she could cut a few minutes off of his record.

"That's all you care about - what he saw! You don't care what these treatments will do to him - as long as you get your answers you don't care what mess is left - you'll just call in house keeping to put out the garbage - is that it? You bastard!"

"Nikita - don't tempt me to put you out of my misery. Admittedly the information that Michael has locked within his mind could be of extreme usefulness to us and could help us put a stop to these assaults for good. However, I am not in the habit of letting disreputable quacks work over my operatives, especially those as skilled as Michael was-"

"Certainly not - but that won't be a problem - she has arranged for him to be relocated to a safe house - she says that by placing him in a more 'domestic' environment she can break down the barriers and allow access to the relevant memories. "

"Dr Karoff is a qualified physician as well as a psychiatrist, she will be able to administer to his needs. We will be conducting low level surveillance. Nikita - it is essential Michael does not become paranoid or overly concerned - you will not go near him, is that understood?"

It was over a month later before Nikita got the proof she needed - Operations had deliberately kept her in the field. There had been an increased incidence of missions recently - a lot of which had gone badly wrong, partly due to the absence of Michael she thought remorsefully to herself.

Dr Gilmore's analysis of the drugs had been limited to traces he could scrape from the floor after the room had been sanitised. He had found evidence of strong psycho-active drugs used in Madeline's memory modification treatments - but Operations had pointed out that they could have got there on shoes or been there from previous clients - their presence proved nothing.

But she'd eventually made the discovery - one that simultaneously supported her argument and scared her out of her wits - the real Doctor Holly Karoff was found murdered, the body dumped in Lake Michigan and brought up in the nets of a trawler amongst some blistered fish. So who was it that had Michael and what the hell had they done to him?

"It wasn't easy - but you needed it my love - the accident was so awful, I thought I'd lost you." As her eyes began to glisten with tears, he pulled her around and into his arms feeling her warmth spread into his chest. Her breasts so round and firm, pressing against him so exquisitely - to think that only a few weeks ago, it had seemed as if he had never met her before.

"You have been so patient - I don't think I realise how lucky I am to have such a precious wife as you. You have tolerated all my memory lapses - the nightmares about the other women - my God, to think I actually believed I had been married to someone else while I was still with you - and even had a child."

of his 'nightmares' would be counterproductive until after his next dose of medication. Time for a distraction she pondered as she slid her free arm over his beautifully proportioned torso and towards his hips - he winced slightly as she touched the tip of his pelvic bone. His injuries were almost completely healed, but the occasional pain still bothered him. But his discomfort was soon forgotten as she ran her fingers along the valley that led towards his magnificent manhood, which promptly stood to attention unable to resist her advances. Karoff chuckled as she gave herself a mental pat on the back for adding an aphrodisiac to the daily concoction she administered to him.

"Oh - nothing important - just don't stop there - put those fingers to good use, you know how…" she almost purred as he obeyed her commands - the hypnotherapy had also been a brainwave she thought as she rolled onto her back luxuriating in the feel of his skin against hers. She bit into her bottom lip to control the pleasure that radiated out from wherever his hands touched her.

As Karoff pulled a dressing gown on - Michael pulled on a pair of loose jogging pants. He followed her to the door and stood behind her with his arm lovingly encircling her neat waist and his chin resting on her head as she opened the door - and his nightmares came flooding in.

Nikita took her gun from her side and pushed Karoff back into the apartment - between them they dragged Michael in. He refused to be touched and careered into furniture - knocking over ornaments, initially by accident and then on purpose - hurling anything breakable at the walls - smashing the façade that he'd been living behind for the past four weeks.

"You've got it." Birkoff was shaken by the audio he had just received - whatever the hell had happened it sounded like someone just got hurt badly, and it sounded like Michael. She couldn't get near to Michael - her presence had triggered a frightening reaction which she could barely come to terms with.

"Then the nightmares were true and the rest were lies - je ne comprends pas - what's happening? - I loved you - I thought you were Simone - Oh God no!" As the full realisation hit him of how screwed up his perception of reality had been, how he'd betrayed Section, Nikita and the memory of Simone - the child - Adam … the impact struck him like a physical blow. Then the drugs in his system took control over his reactions to the overwhelming burden of guilt that shook him to his core - there was only one way out, only one acceptable outcome.

Nikita approached the shaking wreckage that had once been Michael - she wanted so much to comfort him, to bring him back - she reached out but before she could stop him he had grabbed her gun and made a dash down the corridor of the apartment into the bathroom -

The sounds of two bullet shots rang out from the small room, followed by shattering glass - he must be shooting his own reflection she realised - he meant to take his own life of that she was now certain - driven to suicidal desperation. She started to kick at the door - the centre panel buckled inwards splintering along its length, through a jagged gap she could see him slumped on the floor - the barrel of the gun lodged under his chin - his eyes shut tight, a solitary tear trailing down his cheek -

As she tumbled into the room his finger squeezed the trigger - but missing him the bullet tore into Nikita's thigh. The sight of her blood gushing out and over his hands was all it took to send Michael hurtling over the thin edge on which he had been teetering and into the dark well of total insanity. He plunged down - oblivious to the back up team that came bursting in behind Nikita.

In fact it was not hard to disarm the virtually catatonic man that had curled himself up into a fetal ball and was lying amongst splinters of wood and shards of broken mirror. The glass and wood were both splattered with droplets of her blood, as were Michael's hands that covered his face and as he slowly began to rock she could see tears escaping between his fingers diluting her bloodstains.

Gilmore had helped her out of the bathroom and into the decimated lounge. Two of the team had followed Gilmore's instructions and taken a bed sheet and rolled Michael onto it so they could carry him into the lounge without too much contact, they held him still as the doctor gave him a sedative. Nikita had him lain next to her so she could stroke his hair - she hadn't seen it for a while now - the shorter curls where the hair had re-grown after surgery suited him. If only she could have protected him better.

"For now - tranquillise him till we get back to Medlab - then I reckon a detox program to purge his system of all the crap that she injected into him. But as for his mind - I don't know..." He rubbed his head to hide the frown - Michael was in a bad way and from what he'd picked up the rescue mission had backfired in respect to the poor guy's sanity. Sure they'd recovered his body in one piece, but his mind was shattered.

She was both desperate to see him and terrified - what if he couldn't be put together this time - what if he was beyond help? She thought back to the hypodermic of morphine she had stuffed into her boot - perhaps it would have been the kindest thing to have done for him. She could have saved him the heartache and pain - as for his soul - what damage had that sustained? She dared not imagine how he must have been feeling. If he came through this she knew he would probably retreat so far back into himself that he would become even more of an automaton than ever before.

She stood at the entrance to his quarters, she knew there would be surveillance on him - he was on suicide watch after all. According to Gilmore he'd tried twice since his return to Section - once with drugs kept back and stashed away until he'd saved sufficient to constitute an overdose and the second time with a smashed glass that he had dug into his wrist before they could get to him.

They couldn't keep him in Medlab - there were too many potential dangers - his quarters had been stripped of all furnishings and were under constant surveillance. The reason for his desire to self-destruct seemed to be tied up with the belief that he'd killed Nikita and refused to trust their video evidence of her continued survival.

She walked into his room and closed the door behind her. He was sitting in one of the corners - his head tucked down on his chest rocking slowly and without any outward sign of noticing anything around him. He looked gaunt and thin - his hair dishevelled and stubble on his chin. There were still bloodstains on his clothes from where he'd tried to end his life.

Nikita's heart ached so much to see him reduced to this - a shell of the proud, sometimes arrogant, supremely confident operative. Even then the exterior housed a wounded soul. She wondered what was left of the man within the vacant looking exoskeleton - then he looked up - his eyes red rimmed and shadowed.

He could feel her arms around his waist holding him close but allowing him to continue the rhythmic swaying to and fro. The rocking gave him purpose, it had to be done, something to concentrate on - and then when the thoughts came rushing back he could push them away with a physical mantra - back and forth - back and forth - back and forth, banishing the thoughts that clamoured to be heard. But no - not today - maybe tomorrow when he was feeling better, just rock for now - that's good, not so easy on his side - but he could smell her fragrance and feel her warmth - they threatened to bring other sensations to mind so he rocked slightly faster to deter them, no not today. He then thought he felt rain - warm rain - an occasional splash that hit his neck and trickled under the fabric of the jacket. Why so few large splashes - he felt them tickle his skin- insinuating their way into the straitjacket and caressing his back. Why couldn't he move his arms? They had tied them behind him - they said it was for his own good - but if that was true why did the man in white look so sad as he did it - why had he said 'sorry'?

Just rock - that was the answer - no more questions - he'd given them the answer to the other question - he'd known it all the time - but never when they asked the question, why was that? Perhaps they would let him go now - no the woman with him said he had to stay - what was her name again ? What was his name - names didn't matter just labels - he knew she had golden hair - it glowed. He wasn't here any more - just a shadow - where was the rest of him? He had gone somewhere safe and he'd promised not to tell them where - it was a secret. They had not asked the question so he didn't have to give an answer. She was talking to him again - he heard the words - they sounded pretty, sprinkling down over his aching head like flower petals and they smelt of lavender. Where were the colours? - He couldn't find them either - he would have to shut his eyes then he could see them again - there they were - the flowers were trying to grow but all he could see was the dark red blossom that smelt of rotting meat - he gagged involuntarily - the woman holding him pulled him closer - she whispered a new word-

So that was it - a name - it was as if she had woven her hair into his name and had thrown it down into his pit of despair. From deep inside the husk that had been Michael, the man caught sight of the golden braid - he looked at from behind the bars that caged his mind - should he climb up and escape? No yet - it was a way out - but did he want to go there?

She heard him choking and hugged him tighter - he was thin - he'd never recovered properly after the fall in the mudslide. Dr Gilmore had said that they had not been able to feed him since bringing him back in - and he had refused to take intravenous feeding, continually ripping his arm free of the IV line. They could have tried sedating him and then forced nutrients into his veins - but the doctor said he had not wanted to take that course with Michael - once taken it would be difficult to retreat from. He had told her that Michael had no will to survive and that he believed nothing was to be achieved by strapping his body to a table, sedating it and keeping it alive by force.

She was grateful that the doctor had allowed him some space to come to terms with what had happened - now it would be up to her. She did not want to hazard a guess as to what had blown up between Operations and Madeline - but they had given her free reign to try to mend him. She smiled to herself as she recalled what amounted to an apology from Operations - he had said that he should have 'paid more heed to her concerns regarding Karoff'. Nikita wondered where she was now - they would find her and then she would pay penance for her sins. The tears trickled down her face and splashed onto his neck - she watched as they crept inside the coarse material of the straitjacket.

She scowled at it and made the decision that it had to go - she carefully moved him back into a sitting position - still rocking, she leaned over behind him and undid the straps, gently releasing his cramped arms. She rubbed them gently as they hung limply by his sides, then she slipped them out of the sleeves, and then pulled the ghastly garment away from him throwing it to one side. It was then that she saw the bloodstained bandage that had been wound around his left wrist.

It wasn't easy with her aching thigh that was still recovering from a bullet wound, but she moved around to face him and collecting his broken body into her arms and against her chest, she wrapped her legs around his hips. His face rested cheek to cheek with hers, as it had when he had danced with her in her apartment after losing his memory.

Slowly but surely she felt his arms come to life - he raised them from his sides and placing his hands on her back he hugged her. The rocking came to a halt and then she felt the warmth and wetness of his tears as they slid between their two touching faces - acting as a conduit for the emotions she was scared of releasing.

She sat up slowly and rested him in the corner of the room - he had tried to hold onto her but she had firmly pulled away - he wrapped his arms around his chest and began to resume the rocking. Nikita went to the door and switched the lights out -

She reached inside her baggy shirt pockets and drew out a small fat candle, lavender scented and a box of matches. She crouched down on the floor and setting the candle on the floor she struck a match, the sulphurous smell drifting up her nostrils. She carefully lit the wick and allowed the warm yellow glow to suffuse the interior of the room. It's light cast softened shadows in gentle contrast to the harsh outlines cast on the walls by the glare of the fluorescent light strip. Slowly the scent wafted into the room, dispelling the antiseptic smells of disinfectant. She wanted to create an atmosphere that was safe and not threatening - the bright lights had aided surveillance but had driven him further into himself.

There were two blankets next to the door where she had dropped them earlier. She had chosen them for their softness of texture and warmth. They were thick woollen affairs almost like rugs - there were no other comforts in what had become Michael's cell. She carried them over to where he sat, still rocking. She straightened them out to cover a patch of the cold concrete floor and then returned to his side -

His chest was naked now that the straitjacket had been discarded - she felt the skin and it was cool to the touch. She lay alongside him and pulled him over onto his good side - the one that had not been injured. Then caressing his soft curly hair she leaned in close and kissed him on the forehead then the eyelids then along his nose. Then cupping his chin in her hand she kissed his cheeks and then his lips - brushing her lips against his - no aggression - just contact, but she could feel herself becoming aroused by the feel of his skin next to hers.

She smiled as she felt his right arm snake out to snag her waist and pull her towards his body. No matter where his mind had retreated to the chemistry between their bodies could conquer all obstacles - intuitively he sought out her mouth and taking the lower lip between his lips he subconsciously returned her kisses. His lips were dry so she moistened them with the tip of her tongue, tasting him, surreptitiously savouring the stolen pleasure while he deepened the kiss.

She settled for tugging at the elasticised waist of his pants so she could slide a hand down into them to feel the firm perfect roundness of his butt - it was designed to be grasped fervently in acts of unbridled passion, but for now she exercised control and just run her hands over the smooth outlines. Her attentions did not go unrewarded and she could hear him gasp as he took in a deep breath of air. Not yet she told herself - not yet.

They lay there for hours it seemed teasing each others bodies like sleepy lovers do - stroking and feeling, nuzzling close, kissing lazily their mouths slack and their lips soft. An exploration of the surface of their passion. Scanning the exterior of the desire that lay deep within them - alongside the other emotions, which had to be handled with care….

She held him as he fell asleep - exhaustion finally taking its toll - but she was relieved, as it was a sign that he trusted her, that he felt safe in her arms. She awaited the nightmares that she knew would come - she tried to imagine what he was going through, what he had gone through - not knowing nightmare from reality - hardly surprising as they had been one and the same. She frowned as she could make out marks on his skin by the dim fluttering candlelight - his back bruised, his knuckles reddened where he had struggled against the men who had strapped him up.

Michael thought for a moment - was he cold? As in without feelings - without heat, without warmth, without life - why was it that cold seemed to conjure up a list of absences? He supposed the answer to all of the possibilities would be yes, so he nodded his head… yes he was missing….The golden haired being that he now knew was not Simone cradled him in her arms and drew a blanket around his shoulders - he could discern the sensation of textures against bare skin and the smell of wool, he smiled to himself - as he recalled the feeling of comfort.

Nikita rolled him onto his back and then taking the waistband of his pants in a firm grip she pulled it down over his flat stomach, over the jutting hipbones beneath which the twin valleys flowed down to a common point. She should have known he'd be without underwear, too late to stop now… She slid her hands under his buttocks raising them up off the surface of the blanket so that she could tug the fabric free of his tight desirable butt. However, the front had caught itself up on his semi-erect cock that seemed to be straining to get closer to her through the stretchy material. Not wanting to let go of the waist band for fear of hurting his recently injured hip, Nikita bent down and took the front of garment in her teeth and lifted it up only to find her actions counterproductive as they caused the obstruction to grow in dimension.

She managed to lift the edge of the waist band up and over his erection and as she brought it down underneath, she could feel the hard warmth of him rub against her face, the scent of him flooding her senses. It was more than she could take - unable to keep hold of the pants due to the saliva that suddenly pooled in her mouth making the material soggy between her teeth; she pushed the offending pants down unceremoniously. Then she fell upon him using the wetness in her mouth to good use, sliding her tongue over the tip of him and taking him slowly and purposefully into her mouth.

He struggled slightly beneath her and she could sense his breathing rate increase as he began to gasp for air. Afraid he would panic, she reached up to grab hold of his hands, and squeezing them gently begged silently that he would be reassured. After sucking at him softly as if he were an ice-cream cone to be licked a little at a time to make the sweetness last longer… she reluctantly moved back to lie along side him - licking her lips and imagining how it would feel to have him firmly embedded in another part of her that had also become so wet she was dripping with anticipation.

However, Michael's arousal was sufficient to drive his reflexes into action, he took hold of her hands and pressing them to her sides, he rolled on top of her, slowly gyrating his hips so that his erect cock could lubricate itself in the moisture that had leaked through the thin fabric of her panties. He was breathing faster now, his eyes shut, he nuzzled her face kissing randomly until his lips met hers and then blindly pursuing its prey his tongue pushed between her parted lips to conquer her mouth. She felt him try to penetrate her elsewhere - instinctively wanting to be one with her. She moved from under his kisses to get in some air - she mumbled to herself -

Inside the sweat sheened body of the man a barred door swung open and the route for his soul's escape was taken. A fire was lit between the two lovers - one that burnt with the magical ferocity of dragon's breath - a funeral pyre for past sorrows and one from which a phoenix could arise from the ashes of guilt.

"Kita?" His voice was higher than usual - on the verge of panic - the precipitous return towards sanity found him half-dressed and clambering over a semi-naked Nikita on blankets in the corner of a candle-lit bare room. It was perhaps not surprising that he should be freaked out by the situation.

He pulled his body away from hers wrapping the blankets about his body like a protective cocoon, sitting up, his back against the wall. This time there was no rocking, he was now aware - painfully so - of all that had transpired. He was damaged goods as far as Section was concerned - he wondered why he was still alive. It was unusual for Operations to be quite so benevolent.

He looked at her through suspicious green eyes, but could see no harm. He lifted the covers enough for her to snuggle up alongside him. She slid her arm around his waist - using her little finger to feel for clothing - there was none, which meant his pants were still rolled down over his thighs… she slowly moved her hand down his leg until she felt the waistband digging into his thigh.

Whilst the clothing remained clinging to him he was not completely vulnerable - but without it she could make skin-to-skin contact and give him her strength, sitting there scared and semi-clad he was in a netherworld, neither here nor there.

She was still trying to suppress the lust that simmered between her legs; she wanted him badly. Although one part of her felt that the intimacy of sex would draw him back into her world, another part warned that it could drive him further into his own - which direction he went depended on her approach. The notion frightened her, the fact that in the next few hours she held his sanity and life in her hands.

She knelt over him - her legs spread either side of his, the moisture from her smearing onto the taut muscles of his thighs. His hands left the blanket and settled onto her knees - tracing a path upward with a mixture of trepidation and fervent craving. He was worried about the bandage around her thigh, it was trying to remind him of something, he didn't want to touch it but it was stopping him from going any further.

She felt his hands on her legs as they sent tingles up her spine, his eyes gazed adoringly at her but she could see the confusion, almost as if he wasn't entirely sure of his actions and wanted her to guide him. She took his hands in hers and without breaking eye contact she pulled them along her thighs towards her wet core - they both sighed simultaneously as his fingers delved into the pools of moisture.

His instincts took over as he expertly parted the sensitive folds of flesh and he ran his fingertips along the hardened clit. Any pretence Nikita may have had about taking control of proceedings took wing as the waves of pleasure rippled through her being, washing away all reason and conscious thought, beyond the need to have him inside her.

As Nikita arched her back in animalistic rapture, she closed her eyes and moaned softly. Then she felt Michael move his hands way - the withdrawal sudden - but before she could check that he was still alright she had her answer as his strong hands slid under her thighs and lifted her up and onto his hardened length. Holding her raised like that he rubbed his cock against her hot, wet centre, allowing the juices to lubricate his arousal, teasing her clit with the tip until she wanted to push down and envelop him.

However, her attempts to do so were in vain, his arms resisted her impulse and she knew instinctively that he had to be in control of this. Her wait was brief though and he pulled her onto his cock, impaling her upon his body, for a while he held her still, lowering her gradually, feeling the warm tight walls of her gripping onto him, sucking him in. She groaned with delight as he filled her completely, fulfilling a hunger that had almost become unbearable.

Michael put his hands around her waist and drew her closer to him - her breasts brushed his chest for a moment before he crushed her into an ardent embrace, wanting to become part of her. Her lips sought out his and they kissed with passionate abandon, their tongues entwined, their hands in one another's hair, past all cognisance of their surroundings, completely given over to another dimension in which only the union of their souls and bodies existed. Nikita held him fiercely not wanting to let him retreat, and Michael clasped the shining locks of her hair, as something deep within him urged him on - an image of a Rapunzel like princess rescuing him with a golden braid flashing through his mind.

He pushed himself away from the wall and moving his hands onto her shoulders he rolled Nikita onto the floor beneath him, as the urgency of his needs overtook him. He thrusted into her savagely, needing release of the pressure that threatened to overwhelm him, he could feel her writhe under his body, cries of ecstasy rushing out from between her moistened lips, her breathing becoming faster and more frenetic as he continued to stroke faster. They reached their orgasms as one - shuddering in a climax of bliss and exquisite, almost painful intensity.

Michael's back was wet with sweat as he collapsed onto the trembling body of Nikita, the drenched curls of his hair sticking to the damp skin above her breasts. As he rested his head near her heart, he listened to it beating, comforting him. He could hear her breathing change from the fast shallow breaths to slower deeper ones.

Although she was over heated and sticky she didn't dare lose contact with him, so she reached out to wrap her arms about his shoulders and hugged him close. It was then that she sensed the sobs that began to wrack his shaking body and shortly after felt the hot tears that spilled from his eyes across her breasts.

"No Michael - you're not going any where - I want you here, next to me - you've done nothing wrong - you are innocent - completely without blame! Is that what it is? What's finally thrown you this time that you are innocent? Is your mind desperately seeking a way of making you guilty so you can flagellate yourself over this one as well - another helping of angst to pile into the cart of it that you drag behind you every day of your life? Michael - it's not even your fault I got shot - I landed on you when I came barging through that door, and believe me I would rather any day have a bullet go through my leg than your brain - Oh God Michael - forgive yourself - this is none of your doing!"

Nikita helped him put the drawstring pants back on and then after getting dressed herself, she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. The next problem would be in getting him back to her place without his condition becoming apparent to every person between here and the nearest exit point.

It occurred to her that a back way would be better and she re-established contact with Birkoff for long enough to arrange for a wheelchair to be left outside the room and the way cleared between his quarters and the exit she had chosen. Her car would be waiting in ten minutes.

She persuaded Michael to get in the wheel chair more easily than she liked - under normal circumstances he would have dragged himself along with two broken legs rather than willingly admit weakness. She helped him in to the passenger seat of the car and he looked around vacantly as if the surroundings meant nothing to him….

Once in her apartment she led him carefully towards the raised deck of her sleeping quarters… She walked stiffly - the thigh injury throbbing painfully, but she tried to suppress her reactions, as they would only remind Michael that he had shot her….

She went into her small kitchen and made two mugs of steaming herbal tea - orange and cinnamon- to ease tired minds and allow restful slumbers said the packet…well let's see what they can do with tormented souls she thought carrying the mugs up the steps towards Michael. She crouched on the floor beside the bed and looked into his eyes - he was still awake.

Nikita watched as his eyelids fluttered and closed - she smiled as she lowered him onto the pillows and turned away to get out of the section clothing and into a loose robe. As she wrapped the belt around her waist she was startled by a sharp cry from the bed.

The leaves that had fallen to the ground were rotting - no longer crisp, but slimy and putrescent, the smells of decay reaching up from the ground to invade his senses - the fungi erupting in sickening shades of grey and green to destroy the brightness.

"Michael - " she shook his shoulders and was shocked by his reaction as his eyes suddenly snapped open and he grabbed her arms and flipped her onto her back on the mattress beside him - he possessed the strength of those pushed over the edge of sanity.

"Stop what Michael? Who are you talking about?" She was scared by the crazed look in his eyes - he seemed incredibly angry at something or someone - but she did not know what and dreaded to imagine what demons now occupied his mind to ambush him whenever he shut his eyes to sleep.

But Michael was quicker than she thought he would be and he shot out a hand to grab her elbow, pulling her back onto the bed pinning her down by her wrists as he licked his lips, breathing fast, looking about as if there were hidden enemies in the shadows.

"If I don't watch them they steal the light - if you don't watch they paint grey over all the beauty and no-one will see them do it and it will be too late…." He spoke rapidly, feverishly, as if in a hurry to pass on his fears before he was caught.

A vacant look once more descended onto his features - his eyes became washed out as if they were a faded copy of what used to be there. Just as she thought he would start to block the blood supply to her hands he relaxed his grip and sat up holding his head and began to rock again - she couldn't bear for him to return to that state once more -

"No Michael - they haven't!!!" She screamed. Then crossing the room fast before he could stop her she flung open the doors to the wardrobe and begun hurling out blouses, skirts and dresses in a myriad of colours - turquoise, shocking pink, canary yellow, deepest orange. She threw the clothes over the bed one by one - showering him with her garments from soft fabrics of wool and cashmere to delicate lace items from her underwear drawer. Then pulling open a drawer she trailed scarves of many colours across the pillows like banners and finally from a small cabinet she yanked open a drawer and pulled out a box of sun glasses, the frames multi-hued - and hurled the entire contents into the air - so they bounced off the walls and lamps before scattering over the bed to join the contents of her wardrobe. Out of breath she turned to face him - he was still sitting on the bed, but caught up in a rainbow of her clothing. But he was no longer rocking - instead he was holding a soft powder blue sweater to his face - inhaling her scent and rubbing its softness against his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted and a ghost of a smile haunted his exquisitely shaped lips.

Then she saw the light return to his eyes, as it seemed to her that the dull moss green transformed itself into crystal clear emerald. Taking a deep breath Michael pulled her to him, capturing her lips in his - kissing her hungrily, she gasped as he took her by surprise but returned the kiss with relish. Consumed by a heightened passion inflamed by the heat between them, they fell back into the morass of multi- coloured dresses and skirts, rolling over and over becoming one with each other -and out of the rotting mulch rose fresh green leaves that unfurled into the warmth of the sun, bud after bud opening , flowers of many colours spreading open their petals and basking in the glow…

"Not quite - you kept ripping them out,"- she turned his arm over to show him the scars on the insides of his elbows where the needles had been violently pulled from the blood vessels tearing the skin and bruising the delicate tissues beneath.

As Michael disappeared into the bathroom Nikita hobbled down to her kitchen, she threw open her fridge door - all she had was a loaf of stale bread, a box of eggs, a carton of milk and a punnet of yellow raspberries. A Swedish friend had once told her that they were much sweeter then the red variety.

Fifteen minutes later she returned to the bedroom area of her apartment with a tray loaded up with plates and bowls of the most colourful china she could find - bold stripes of yellow and blue on white. Also were two brightly patterned mugs and a matching jug in which was ice-cold milk. There were also two eggcups - in a similar blue and yellow design to the plates. A salt cellar and pepper mill crowded into the gaps left between the plates and next to a toast rack filled with neat triangles of toast. Two woven baskets perched on top of the plates one containing a clutch of brown soft-boiled eggs and the other a heap of plump yellow raspberries.

As she sat on the edge of the bed Michael came through rubbing his hair with a towel while another clung to his slender hips. She absently thought that he had decided to have a shower after all - perhaps she could persuade him to take another one later.

She passed him the milk and started to drink her own peering over the top of the mug to make sure he was following suit… It had been a while since he had drunk properly from anything but a straw poked in his face by one of the nurses.

Milk dribbled from his lips and cascaded down his chin - Nikita put down her mug and leaned over to take his so she could lap at the milk with her tongue. She sucked it from his stubble that was almost long enough to be a close cropped beard - the bristles were soft, not sharp and she rubbed up against him like a cat… purring with delight.

Nikita sat back again and taking an egg she tapped it with the back of a spoon and slowly peeled the shell from the top. She couldn't help smiling and trying not to wriggle as Michael slipped behind her and was peeling away her robe with as much care as she was removing the eggshell.

She placed the prepared egg in an eggcup and taking off the top she dipped a toast finger into the bright golden yolk - watching as it oozed over the top of the shell and onto the eggcup - she lifted it up and turned to hand feed him. His lips parted as he let her slide the egg-coated bread into his mouth - he bit down - firmly, and then chewed slowly licking the crumbs from the corner of his mouth…. Nikita ate the leftover piece and egg ran down her lips - which Michael then licked carefully away.

She looked confused - especially by the mischievous look that sparkled in his eyes - she lay back on the bed and watched in amusement as he poured salt into her navel. Then taking another piece of toast he dipped it in the still warm, runny yolk and then before taking a bite he dipped the tip of his tongue into her saltcellar. Then taking hold of the toast finger with his teeth he lowered his face next to Nikita's so she could take the other end between her own teeth. They tore the toast in half and chewed quickly before swallowing - leaving their mouths free to indulge in yet another kiss - this time less urgent and gentler.

Nikita rolled over to grab the basket of yellow raspberries and squashed one on Michael's chest - he then leant over to slurp up the juices that trickled down her chin. She felt him pushing her back down before he proceeded to lay out the rest of the raspberries in a spiral path that led around her breasts and finished at her nipples. He then assiduously followed the trail with his lips - taking it in turn between eating the sweet fruit himself and passing it from his lips to Nikita's mouth, sometimes pausing to lick the juices from her mouth and chin. As he worked his way to her nipples she could feel them harden and become erect as his warm breath and soft lips came ever closer - eventually he suckled at them - using just his lips to begin with, kneading them into erect peaks, before caressing them with his sticky wet, tongue.

Nikita was being slowly driven wild with desire - she could hardly wait any longer - she pulled him down onto her body and they made sweet, tender love, among toast crumbs, crushed berries and piles of very crumpled clothing. But they were oblivious to all of that - they were only aware of the feel of each others warm, sticky skin, the taste of the raspberries on each others tongues and the sight of each others souls gazing out from behind their eyes - Michael's soul on a path to recovery guided by the light that shone from the very essence of Nikita…

As they lazed in one another's arms Nikita was determined not to let him sink back into a pit of despondency - so she pulled him into her arms making him totally aware that he was all that she desired. She playfully kissed him lightly across the brows and down his nose and then gently on the full, slightly swollen lips. He responded warmly, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her closer to him, breathing deeply of her scent mingled with the fruity aroma of raspberries and the musky smell of their love-making.

"Your leg…" he paused, his focus now on something distant - "I'm sorry, have I hurt it again? I should have been more careful… I never wanted to hurt you Nikita." He shook his head slowly as he remembered the sound of the shot, the surprise at his continued awareness such as it was and then her screaming as the warm blood splashed onto his hands.

Her pleas did not penetrate the aura of shock that enveloped him, sealing him off again from her love. She had forgotten in the heights of their passion that he was far from healed. She had allowed her feelings regarding the Section operative called Michael to strike out and attack this poor man who was barely returned from the edge of insanity.

He turned and pulled a discarded black T- shirt over his head and then picked up a pair of black tracksuit pants from the back of a chair before dashing blindly down the steps to finish dressing out of her sight. By the time she had hobbled out of the bed and down from the sleeping area she was just in time to see the door to her apartment slam shut.

Michael made his way through the streets bare foot - not noticing the looks from strangers as they glanced at the dishevelled, bearded man that would have looked like a vagrant had it not been for his trim, well kept figure. He moved through the people that drifted around him as if they were fish that he was swimming through on his way home - it drew him and he knew he had to return.

They would be waiting for him - Nikita had had no choice but to inform Section that he had left her apartment - for his own safety if nothing else, although she was aware that he may interpret it as betrayal... especially following so soon after the intimacy they had shared. If she was in his position she would automatically assume it to be yet another Section manipulation so why should he think any different. She threw on some clothes and was about to head out after him when her cell phone rang shrilly - without stopping to wonder how, she assumed it was Michael and eagerly answered it - her heart froze as she heard Madeline's rich voice utter her codename...

He went along without a word, not looking around although distantly aware of the stares he was getting from operatives. As he passed Walter, the older man started to greet him, but then changed his mind - how could he welcome Michael back when the guy so obviously wasn't ready to be back.

Operations and Madeline had devised a profile that they were keeping close to their chests and no one had seen Michael since his return, but the locked gym at nights suggested that his physical skills were being brought back up to standard in preparation for goodness knows what.

"Yep" - he nodded towards the briefing room as Michael walked in, dressed impeccably in neat stylish black suit, shaven and walking with his old self assured gait - the only thing that spoilt the image was the fact that he was accompanied by two cold ops, as if under guard.

"I know some stuff sugar - it seems that Michael is to be regarded as a security risk until further notice. He was out of section control for a long time, they don't like that… especially as he spent a lot of hours getting cosy with an enemy with the ability to hypnotise and well…"

Nikita walked into the briefing room five minutes before the start of the briefing session - Michael was on his own at the end of the table - his two guards standing behind him. She sat next to him and gingerly touched his arm with her hand - he looked down at her hand and focussed on her long slim fingers as he whispered -

"It's alright, Madeline explained to me." She thought she could detect a hint of sadness as he spoke. He took her hand in his and placed it back in her lap - she felt devastated- that was until she felt him gently rub his thumb into the palm of her hand and squeeze her fingers firmly before releasing his grip. He was trying to tell her something, of that she was certain - now if only she could work out what was happening.

"Section has made use of civilian professionals from time to time in the past. These individuals have all been carefully screened and following their services, some have undergone memory modification, and returned to normal life - others work for us on a retainer basis-"

"If she worked for you before how come you didn't recognise the difference?" Nikita asked as two images were displayed of the original psychiatrist and her impostor. They were both the same height, build and hair colour, but the features were slightly different- the original's lips were fuller and the nose straighter.

"There will be an inquiry into how this woman managed to infiltrate Section - but for now we have a more urgent problem - she is still at large and has knowledge of Section - the extent of which is at present unknown. We need to find her and bring her in. It is also imperative that we find out whom she is working for. Madeline-"

"As far as we can determine there must be someone working within Section who leaked the information regarding our need for a psychiatrist. We can assume it was not any one present in this room. It could have been one of the members of the original team on the mission where Michael was injured."

"However, for the purposes of control - the current profile is to be known only to those present. Michael will be used to lure the woman posing as Karoff into the open. It can be assumed that she failed her employers and if still alive will be seeking a means of recovering her status within the organisation. To that end we will leak information regarding Michael's convalescence in a poorly secured location-"

Nikita couldn't help but think they knew a lot more than they were prepared to share. This meant that they had ulterior motives behind Michael's planned abduction and that worried her most. She would have no choice but to go along - but how could she not protect him? Or were they counting on that too?

The arrangements were made and Nikita gathered her gear from Walter's station - double-checking everything he laid out on the bench as she packed it in to her weekend bag - as she did so she conducted an urgent whispered conversation with the older man, anxious to find out what he knew.

"Walter - the profile is for the back-up team to trace Michael - in case I get incapacitated." Nikita's voice was now a rough growl as she suppressed her fury at the proposed lack of plans to extract Michael as soon as possible - they could only intend for him to be kept for a period of time before going in after him.

"The profile is quite straightforward - the aim is for me to be taken. Transmitter devices other than the one implanted in me would only be detected and removed." Michael spoke without emotion - his voice flat as he stated the bare facts. But he still wouldn't look her in the eye.

Nikita took his arm in hers and dragged him over to a coffee bar. She dumped her bag on one of the chairs, sat on another and glared at him until he too took a seat. Then taking his hands in hers forcing his attention back to her - she again demanded that he explain himself.

"Why Michael - what's going on? - What are you going to let yourself in for now?" Her anger had dissolved into suspicion - Madeline had manipulated Michael and no doubt she had agents at her disposal that made her version of the truth more believable.

Nikita slackened her grip on his hands as she met his eyes for the first time in what seemed like ages - no wonder he hadn't let her look at him properly. After his ordeal he was still emotionally unstable and despite whatever Madeline had tried to do in order to suppress them his eyes were brimming over with the feelings that lay so close to the surface. Fear, loss, sadness, and despair - all of these were visible to her- he was terrified of what lay ahead. She had never known him to be afraid of a mission before and that alone was enough to make her scared for him.

"No, we can't - they implanted it in my skull - incorporated into the plate they used to replace the damaged fragments of bone. They will always be able to find me Nikita - I have no escape route any longer. But you have -" He took her face in his hands, cupping it so he could appeal to her.

"No Michael - if I leave you now I could be condemning you to death, there's no back up to pull you out-" her voice had become husky with emotion as she tried hard not to cry - he was offering her freedom, no matter what the cost to himself.

He tilted his head down, trying to hide his eyes that were glistening with unshed tears, but Nikita had moved around the table to sit next to him, she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him close, so his head rested on her shoulder. He lifted it enough to turn to face her - tentatively touching her lips with his and then slowly, hesitantly he kissed her. He waited for her acceptance before progressing into a kiss that became deeper and deeper, more and more intense - a kiss that cleared away the misunderstandings - a kiss that cut through all of Madeline's deceptions - leaving no room for misinterpretation of how the two felt about one another.

As Michael and Nikita walked through Heathrow airport towards a taxi rank they stepped out in to torrential rain - the downpour could have rivalled anything they encountered in the south American rainforest……only it was cold as well as wet ….within minutes they were drenched through and sat shivering in the back of a taxi.

They allowed the man to witter on to his heart's content, but neither of them heard a word he said - they both stared out of the windows, wiping at the steamed up glass only to see rain trickling down. The scenery was grey , grey suburbs giving way to wet, shiny grey streets and the sky continued to weep as if in sympathy with their hearts.

Michael's concerns lay with Nikita - he was furiously thinking of ways of protecting her - he knew that the profile was for him to be captured, he also knew that Nikita was acceptable collateral if things got nasty. He could not allow that to happen …Their room was small but neat, the furnishings a rich burgundy colour, the armchairs matching the curtains. Nikita went to the window to look out - she could hear the steady drumming of rain pattering against the panes of glass and outside the hissing sound as cars drove through streets awash with water.

He slipped one arm down to her knees and bracing her back with the other he swept her literally off her feet and onto the double bed … he smiled sadly as he looked down on her, golden tresses spread out across the dark red of the counterpane, her grin mischievous and enticing as she licked her lips.

She felt the puncture too late and as her ears filled with hissing white noise and her vision tunnelled to darkness she thought she heard him say goodbye as a tear crept from his eye and splashed silently on her forehead - wet and warm…..then nothing.

She woke with a throbbing head and a numb backside. Stretching out she soon regretted it as her head hit something hard and lumpy - adjusting her position she felt out in the darkness - a plastic curtain to one side and she appeared to be covered in towelling material - no, not towelling- towels.

Then she worked out that the smooth porcelain surface under her fingers was a bath - she was in a bath under a pile of towels. Nikita pushed the towels aside and then groggily levering herself out of the bath tub and into the bathroom , she bashed her knee on the toilet -

She tugged the cord and blinked rapidly as the fluorescent light flickered into life - she gingerly opened the door into the room - it was deserted. She had a lump in her throat - he knew, he had knocked her out and hidden her in the bathroom for safety, not even allowing her to make an attempt to save him- yet again he had made the decisions for them.

Walking over to the main light she switched it on and did a search of the room looking for clues as to what had happened. The armchairs were on their sides, a lamp overturned on the bedside table and then on the wall she saw a dark mark- getting closer she could see it for what it was - a red streak of blood. Her fingertips reached out to it - as if trying to comfort him, the trail smeared its way downward towards the floor and then again on the pale carpet - a smudge of dark red.

A crack of lightning split the air and the room briefly flared up in brilliant white light, as painful as the ache in her chest. The air closed in about her as the thunder rumbled and the rain beat hard against the windows. And as the drops of rain wove crazy paths down the windows, tears traced jagged tracks down her cheeks.

Nikita had curled up on the floor, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, becoming one with the sound of the storm, the sky crying with her as she sobbed so hard she thought she would be physically sick. The lightning hurt her eyes and as she opened them the first thing she saw was the patch of blood on the carpet …she reached out and touched it- dry - how long ago? She checked her watch - she hadn't reset it since flying in and had no idea how late it was….

She leaned onto the bed and went to grab the phone to check with reception when she realised the bed did not have a solid base - and that the valance around the edge hid the underneath of the bed - perhaps? She lifted the edge and peered under - there it was - her bag - he must have pushed it under the bed before he was taken …she exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and then brushing the tears from her eyes she reached out for the bag.

She started with the device issued by Section - but no matter which channel she adjusted it to, there was nothing - how had Walter known it would malfunction? Then tossing it onto the bed, she grabbed the other device that Walter had given her and switched it on - there it was - a signal - maybe ten miles away to the north, stationary.

Her hands had now moved to his belt which she was stealthily undoing, before sliding one hand across his smooth, flat stomach and down into the curly hair that lay below his navel - she unzipped his fly with her other hand and was about to indulge herself when she felt him tense up-

He pushed her off and leapt up from the bed to stand looking over her. His breathing was fast and shallow from the minor exertion and as he tried to move towards the woman sprawled on the floor, he saw a transformation in her features from an expression of extreme irritation to one of malicious amusement. She grinned as she watched him sway from side to side and topple headlong back onto the bed.

As soon as the door opened she dropped her bag on the floor and stooping to pick it up she whirled it into the face of Johnson its weight catching him unawares he reeled backwards. Nikita allowed the other op to rush her, ducking at the last minute so he ended up on the floor. Side-stepping a counterattack by Johnson, she laid him out with a double-handed chop to the back of the neck and then made an unladylike dash for the revolving door and out onto the rain soaked streets.

Eventually she ducked into a very exclusive looking shopping arcade - her rain-sodden hair hanging in soggy blonde tangles over her face, she stood there panting for breath. She noticed that people were staring at her so she started to walk purposefully towards a sign for the Underground. Her feet squelched in the trainers that had filled up with water as she had ran through every puddle between here and the hotel. The shoppers were mainly middle-aged women in smart suits and sensible shoes - gazing into shop windows at the latest Burberry jackets and hunter green Wellington boots.

As Nikita took the steps two at a time it dawned on her that she seemed to be entering another reality, a bustling confusing world of commuters and tourists, wielding umbrellas like lances as they competed for positions near ticket machines and in queues before being swallowed up by noisy, clanking escalators, delivering them like sacrifices to the serpents that writhed their way through the belly of London in narrow tubular tunnels.

The woman calling herself Simone removed the needle from the vein in Michael's arm and loosened the tourniquet that she had wrapped around his biceps - she replaced it with her talon- tipped fingers, admiring the strength he had rebuilt.

Once reassured that he was unconscious she had beckoned her hired help to place him in a chair and secure him to it with ropes about his torso and ankles. She had then dismissed them while she went to work on her captive in privacy. Briefly she wondered if her job had been made easier or more difficult by the fact that she found herself irresistibly drawn to this man.

His sensuality reached out like tendrils from his body, his aura was like red velvet, deeply enticing. She found herself incredibly turned on by him, and the opportunity to have him at her disposal once more made her almost uncontrollably horny. She remembered the weeks she had shared with him, convincing him that she was his dead wife - the feast of sexual delights on offer had stimulated her appetite in ways no other lover ever had. It was such a shame she wasn't going to be able to keep him...She sat astride his lap and began to place tiny pieces of surgical tape under his eyebrows, as she concentrated on the fiddly task she bit her lower lip and found herself subconsciously grinding her hips against his pelvic bone, feeling his dormant length firmly pressing against her crotch. She paused in her attentions to his face to slide her hands down to his pants pulling them loose over his hips and down exposing his manhood to her appreciative gaze.

She stood up long enough to wriggle out of her bikini briefs and then sat back down, making sure she could feel the warmth of him between her soft, moist folds. She moaned softly in pleasure at the sensation - and wriggled closer to him.

Then she turned her attention back to his face, carefully lifting his eyelids she held them open by securing them with the opposite ends of the pieces of surgical tape, effectively forcing his eyes open. She reluctantly slid off his lap drawing herself along him as she moved …although his eyes were open he was still out cold…She turned the lights out in the small room and turned on the projector linked to a small lap top computer - the wall showed a desktop image, but as soon as she opened the file labelled "Auto-suggestion" the wall filled up with an image of her, smiling. She knelt down between Michael's legs, and pressed a hypo spray against his neck that would rouse him within seconds.

The machine spat out the ticket along with a torrent of change that all seemed to be in coins of the smallest denomination possible. She crammed the coins into a pocket on her long coat and then stepped into the throng that was heading for the Piccadilly line northbound.

He tried to move her out of the way - mistake number one - then as she pushed back he made his second and last mistake, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the gate and onto the barrier. Nikita was in no mood to coerce, sweet-talk or otherwise cajole this greasy haired, dandruff- festooned excuse for a man - she kneed him sharply in the crotch and vaulted over the barrier, hurtling down the escalators to tumultuous applause and cries of -

Grinning to herself Nikita made fast progress down the left-hand side of the elevator as appreciative commuters moved aside to let her through. Within minutes she could no longer hear the shrill whistles for assistance - and pounding down the close, airless passageways she followed the signs that led to her platform.

A train was about to leave - she jumped onboard just as the doors slid shut…and the carriages rattled their way into the dark forbidding tunnels. There was a seat by the door, she sat down out of breath. Then reaching into the shoulder bag she drew out the device for tracing Michael, hoping it could function this far underground.

"Whassat? Gameboy?" asked a pimply youth opposite her, he was unnaturally skinny, with short, spiky, red hair and glazed eyes, the pupils of which she could barely discern. He had a bottle in his hand wrapped in a plain brown paper bag and stunk of whisky and dope.

He grabbed the tracking device from her hand and ran down the carriages- he knew the line well and had timed his attack to coincide with the arrival at the next station - the doors slid open and he was gone - into the crowds that poured out onto the platform at Tottenham Court Road.

The images flashed up one after another and the drugs in his system made him light- headed, he hoped the extra training would pay off, but he was not feeling too good … As he fazed out once more he thought of Nikita, he hoped she would forgive him for tricking her…

"Thanks-" she said stumbling out through the doors and onto another platform. There was no sign of the red-haired youth, but she still had her A-Z of London and she had narrowed down the area - dammit that was no good - without a pinpoint on his location she had no chance of finding him - not unless she could get support…

Nikita staggered towards the escalators leading up to ground level - this time she leaned on the hand rest, which disconcertingly did not seem to keep up with the stairs themselves, causing her to constantly shift her position. As she went to put her ticket through the machine with everyone else - it was rejected not letting her through - damn - she was in no condition to go vaulting barriers this time -

There was a pillow under his head and he was lying down, no longer restrained - at least not physically, but he was pretty certain that even without being tied up he was unlikely to get far in his current state. He could smell an overpowering scent, their research had been good - it had been Simone's favourite perfume. The thought almost made him gag.

He wasn't sure he could do it - to prostitute his body for Section 1 was one thing, but to betray the feelings he had once had for Simone - that was sacrilege; did they really think he could go ahead with this farce? His sessions in the white room with Madeline had built up his resistance to the drugs and the subliminal conditioning images, but nothing had been done to heal the rift in his soul. He had barely regained a hold on sanity and they had pushed him back to the edge again.

"I don't have time to go to hospital. Look I'm a tourist - I have to meet up with some friends otherwise they'll be worried sick - can't you just put a few butterfly stitches on it - bandage it up and I'll promise to get it checked as soon as I meet my friends?"

"That's a bit posh isn't it miss?" The man chuckled as he applied little butterfly stitches to hold the side of the cut together - the girl looked a bit too bedraggled for an establishment like that - perhaps she had a rich boyfriend, it wouldn't surprise him, she was a bit of a looker after all.

Nikita took the key to her room from her coat pocket - glad that she had transferred the contents of her shoulder bag into her coat on the way down the stairs earlier. Her shoulder bag had become a victim of her struggle with Johnson.

The room was as she had left it - right down to the bloodstain on the carpet that had turned a dark brown. The tracker from Section still lay on the bed where she had thrown it aside. She picked it up and tried again to get it to pick up Michael's signal - she sighed with relief when it worked, Birkoff had been true to his word and had stopped the jamming signal.

He could keep to the profile as long as treated it like any other Valentine op job. This was just a female enemy whom he had to have sex with in order to get to the next level - just an obstacle to overcome - he'd done it before many times - he could do it again now….

She moved down and found herself flipped onto her back, with Michael's body on top now, crushing her to the mattress, his lips ravaging her face, the force of his passion taking her breath away. His hands wandered down her shoulders, along her sides to her hips, he slid his hands under her buttocks raising her up so her pelvic bone collided with his, she groaned with pleasure.

She had found him exciting before when she had taken him from Section with their approval - but this was different, this must be what he was normally like, so commanding, she was thrilled at the sensations he aroused within her. She could feel his cock rubbing against her mound urgently and then his hard arousal shoved its way between her legs and deep inside her - no foreplay, just taking her - roughly and without mercy, almost as if he loathed her…

Michael blocked all thoughts from his mind deliberately - they were crowding at the edge of his awareness, he could see Nikita frowning at him and shaking her head in disgust. He could imagine her berating him for his willingness to have sex with anything in or out of a skirt if Section told him to, that he had no business making love to her… she wasn't a mission any more. He could also see Operations and Madeline smiling in approval at how well he'd rehabilitated, what a good Valentine Op he always had been and always would be, a soulless whore whose body could be used and abused by whoever they threw him at.

She felt her body responding to his violent lovemaking - she enjoyed this side to Michael - and arching her back to pull him even deeper into her she came explosively, aggressively. She dragged her sharp claws down his back as the waves of her orgasm pulsated out to flood her entire being with ecstasy.

As the woman beneath him came, Michael collapsed, physically and spiritually, his body flopped down to the side of the Karoff woman, and his soul gave in to the vultures that waited on the sidelines to pick over the remnants of his dignity and self-respect.

Nikita knew his blank stare, as did many at Section, but how many knew that it acted like a one-way mirror? That he absorbed every glance shot in his direction with barely a flinch. The mirror shielded the secrets of the occupant behind the veil from the gaze of others, but allowed the prisoner within to look out and garner the guilt and blame to store away in a pit of self-loathing.

The gauze that fell before his eyes was sometimes extremely translucent allowing the feelings of others to pierce through inflicting unseen damage, but at other times the mask was thicker and the hurt merely became entangled like the arrows of the crusaders in the silken undershirts of the Mongol hoards. His armour was invisible - but he was aware of the location of the chinks that permitted harm to be done. Michael sometimes opened his arms to welcome the emotional injuries - in self-flagellation he would expose his most vulnerable areas.

He had loved and been loved rarely but on each occasion it had been of a depth that many would find giddying to peer into. In spite of what he would desire, others had bestowed upon him gifts of pure, unsullied love, given freely and unconditionally as true love always is.

These treasures he hoarded away deep inside, they were the source of his strength and the parts of him most vulnerable to attack - betrayal of these precious memories caused their light to dim and their colours to fade until they became elusive glimmers of a distant life -

As he turned over on the bed and closed his eyes, he recalled a bed strewn with the clothes from Nikita's wardrobe - shades of purple, green, orange, blue and red - the colours of flowers and rainbows and purity - he embraced the recollection behind the shutters of his soul…

Nikita made her way out of the fire exit of the hotel - just in case. The streets were wet, but the rain had stopped - the puddles reflected the colours of the street lamps and car headlights. She pulled up her collar against the cold wind that had blown up, gusting away the clouds, but sending shivers down her neck, and plunged her hands deep inside her pockets for warmth. She had tried to sponge out the bloodstain from her coat - to no avail; the pale camel colour showed it up badly. The knife wound ached and was a constant reminder not to let her guard down again - she had lost precious time hunting down Michael - two hours lost and she dreaded to think what could have been done to him.

This time - no Underground- she had plenty of cash and was taking a taxi - as long as she could get one - before long a black London taxi cab , its yellow "for hire" sign glowing in the dark emerged from the traffic - she ran to the edge of the road and waved frantically until it came to a skidding halt - displacing the contents of a particularly muddy puddle from the roadside and onto the bottom of Nikita's long coat - the water was oily and grimy-

Camden was an area of trendy wine bars, clubs and shiny new pubs, a gloss of acceptability painted on a shabby area - beneath which lurked the darker, decayed heart of London. Broken windows high up in the flats above the shop fronts let pigeons in to roost and down on the pavement by the tube station a young woman barely in her twenties sat in a pool of her own urine - unable to react fast enough to the call of nature, a discarded syringe by her side witness to the reasons why…

She saw his gaze shift from her face to a position behind her and out of the corner of her eye Nikita saw his friend grabbing a bottle off the nearby table - about to smash it on a lamp post. She kicked back her long leg sweeping round so her foot connected with his hand- knocking the bottle to the ground to shatter into a hundred shiny wet green slivers. Then she returned to the main focus of her attention and lifting him bodily off the ground she dumped him in a litter bin - jamming him in backside first so his legs jutted out at bizarre angles -

Nikita shrugged, smiled demurely and bottling up her aggression for what she expected would be a far worthier cause she turned her back. The confrontation had served her well, the adrenaline rush had primed her for combat - she would fight for Michael, of that she was certain. Her heart beating fast she headed towards the source of the signal.

It was a dilapidated building at the end of the street, four storeys tall, a wine bar at ground level with a club in the basement, with three flats above and a pigeon occupied loft by the sounds of cooing and the splatters of white on the pavement.

She was about to decline when she saw a group of four dark suited men lounging around outside the building - ostensibly having a drink, but it was not the weather for it - the other tables were deserted. These guys were hired muscle and they were waiting for someone. Her heart sunk momentarily as she realised instinctively that these men had the same target as she did. She just didn't know if their boss had yet to arrive or if he was here and had already got to Michael.

With a grin she skipped lightly down the steps and into the basement - the music was loud and the base beat throbbed through her body - but she wasn't hanging around. She looked out for the sign to the toilets - out the back - good, she headed in that direction and then continued straight on through the rear fire door and out into the back yard - the fire escape ladders reached down from above - that would be her way in …..

"If you say so -," Michael braced himself for the next stage, his acquiescence to Karoff had been to make her believe he was weakened still and impressionable. He would have to follow that through if he was to penetrate the headquarters of the people who had come to collect him -

She flattened herself against the wall and could hear Karoff's voice urging Michael to hurry and get ready - her anger built as she listened - and heard Michael's polite responses - shit the bitch had done it to him again - he was brainwashed like before! Nikita turned and slammed a fist into the brickwork - grazing her knuckles - the pain sharp, just what she needed to get focussed, she had to concentrate on saving him.

All that Michael could make out was a jumble of blonde hair, and cream coloured coat splattered with red stains and mud spinning across the room. The drugs in his system slowed him down but not enough to stop him diving in front of her as the man drew his gun -

She thought she was in the rain again - but London rain was cold and icy - needle like shards of water that stung as they hit you in the face - these drops were warm and as one fell towards her lips she tasted it - it was salty - Her chest hurt - it hurt like hell - the impact had winded her, thank God she had

The mechanical sound cut through time and caused it to condense about them - falling back into place - sounds flooded back in - Nikita's heavy breathing, Michael's gulp of relief, glass tinkling to the ground as it continued to tumble from the broken window, the solid sounding clunk as Nikita's gun hit the skirting board, and then there was quiet again …It was then the turn of external sounds to drift back in - occupying the vacuum left behind. The sound of the band in the basement club vibrated through the walls and outside a voice called out -

Again silence - Nikita braced herself for another shot - prepared herself for the impact that would surely come - sending Michael away for good. What could she do? - what had she done? - this wasn't meant to happen - this was a mess- a stupid bloody mess - why had she interfered ? She'd nearly got him killed ……she had a vest on for God's sake - he didn't - just a T shirt …

Michael felt her shift in his arms and offered up a prayer of gratitude - she was safe - he could feel her heavy breathing against his chest and everything else shifted with her back into real time. But he had also heard the click behind him…he needed to move and couldn't, the pain in his back had taken hold of him in a paralysing grip…

Nikita looked over towards where Karoff had been standing when she had come barrelling into the room …the woman was on the floor - not moving and a pool of blood was forming under her body….. good thought Nikita - at least I managed to kill that bitch.

They made short work of trussing up both Nikita and Michael - once gagged, they were turned back to back on the floor, while Vince and Kev arranged the flat to look like there had been a break-in and that Karoff had been shot in the process. Furniture was quickly pushed over and drawers opened, their contents strewn across the floor.

Nikita's gun was picked up and pocketed by Vince. Once finished the men wiped all surfaces that may have had fingerprints on and then they roughly dragged their captives to their feet and followed their boss down the stairs to the front door - it opened slowly to reveal a Ford Transit van backed up with its rear doors wide open - Michael and Nikita were bundled in and their two guards followed behind. The other men got in the front.

"The mark entered the apartment - there was shooting and then two others went up - a van has been driven to the front- I think they are going ahead with the pick up - " Johnson said nervously, watching the scenes unfolding before him, without being able to do a thing to help.

She looked on in distress at the thick streaks of blood which flowed down his arm, the dark T-shirt and lack of light prevented her from seeing how bad it was - he had been unsteady on his feet and looked so pale on the stairs. Then looking up she looked into his eyes and she saw pure agony….

Michael tried to see how extensive Nikita's injuries were - the front of her pale coat was covered with dark stains - she must have been hit in the chest … she had groaned in agony as the men had grabbed her under the arms to lift her - she was breathing heavily now, wincing as she breathed in. His eyes gazed at her face and he was heartbroken to read her eyes, which spoke of pain…

Michael's shoulder was on fire as the furrow left by the bullet across his back was filling with blood. The drugs in his system made it difficult to focus and he so wanted to see how Nikita was… he blinked hard, unable to rub his eyes and the tears fell from his long lashes, blurring the image even more…

The street lights allowed enough illumination to see each other's eyes - but not enough to know that the pain they saw so deeply embedded was out of mortal concern for one another's safety as much as it was due to the injuries that had been inflicted upon them … while they still could make out each other's eyes they held their gaze - supporting the other with a bond of love that lay between them and was stronger than the ropes that held them immobile.

As soon as they left the main streets there was no longer enough illumination for them to see, but they still stared in the same direction - straining to hear how the other was breathing - if the link between them had been any stronger they would no doubt have been able to hear the pulse that throbbed in each other's arteries…

The van turned off the main roads altogether and from the bucking of tyres it seemed to be going over rough ground - a track maybe ……there were no longer sounds of other traffic, but the incessant pattering of rain on the roof continued unabated …

They pulled up eventually and the engine stopped, the doors were thrown open by the two thugs Vince and Kev, they took Nikita first. Her eyes flew back to the shadow that was Michael in alarm - the lights from outside showed that he was no longer sitting upright but had fallen to one side.

She was marched into what looked to be a farmhouse, the rain was pouring steadily now and she couldn't make out anything of her surroundings - no lights apart from those by the porch - the area around was enveloped in darkness. As she was pushed into the farmhouse, the scent of mildew filled her nostrils - the wallpaper was peeling off the walls in entire strips, the dank, damp atmosphere made it feel colder inside than it had outside - obviously the place was not occupied regularly.

She was escorted into a side room and a sickly yellow light was switched on to show that it was a bedroom of sorts - no bed - but a mattress with a heap of old blankets tossed on top of it, lying on a patchwork of old rugs and thread bare carpet remnants …

"In the middle of Hackney Marshes - not that you'll be any the wiser knowing that. Let's just say no one comes out here any more. Excuse my manners I 'aven't introduced misself sweetheart- I'm Den - you don't need to know more than that, except people who cross me, or piss me off end up missin' - permanently …. Although occasionally a body part has made it to the nearest relative as a keepsake…"

Kev grinned lasciviously as it was obvious that whatever she was wearing underneath the bullet proof vest was very skimpy. In fact she did have on a small black tank top - and the cold air made her nipples stick out rigidly - a sight that seemed to have an immediate effect on the men - all three were now focussing on her chest. Den walked closer and reached out to fondle her while licking his lips -

They let go of her arms and left her in the room alone. She heard a bolt being slid into position - she crouched down on the bed - trying not to see the stains on the mouldy coverlet. As she sat down her arms around her knees she trembled …it was cold and the window wasn't glazed - merely boarded up, letting the wind howl in.

She lost track of time - but she was very cold now - freezing cold, they had taken her coat and left her with nothing else, and she couldn't bring herself to lie down on the mattress. As she rocked backwards and forwards trying to create some heat by moving - she heard the bolt once more as it was shoved back and the door opened. She immediately flattened herself to the wall in readiness to strike - but seeing Michael's body being dragged in between Kev and Vince, she changed her mind - she couldn't attack them without harming Michael. They dumped him on the bed face down and left, locking them in together.

She dropped to her knees beside him, now hoping to assess the full extent of his wound in the dull but adequate light; she could see that the bleeding had virtually stopped - but not before the back of his shirt had become soaked, the dried blood now stuck the fabric of the shirt to his skin. Her probing roused him - he groaned softly -

She had started to run her hands carefully over his back - feeling for wounds - as soon as she brushed her fingertips over a narrow furrow, his sudden intake of breath indicated that she had found the place - she attempted to peel the material away from the wound but Michael stopped her by grabbing hold of her.

She tugged at one of the less offensive blankets and shook it out over Michael's body - trying not to notice the dark brown droppings that scattered from it. Then she snuggled up close to the opposite side to the one which had been shot - her arm around his waist, her face close to his - she could feel that his hair was wet -and tried not to think of pneumonia.

He draped his uninjured arm around her shoulders and drew her closer still - so they shared each other's breath - she inhaled the warm air he exhaled and drank in his essence- he looked into her crystal blue eyes and lost himself in their depths.

Many hours since they had sunk into the soft maroon covers of the bed at the Sheraton Belgravia, they eventually finished the kiss they had begun - slowly and gently - their lips still touching as the embrace of exhaustion gathered them both to its weary bosom. In the room next door the radio was on - and an old song by The Cure drifted through as a fitting lullaby:

Nikita woke first - her neck stiff from the draft coming through the boarded window - she felt disorientated, it was still dark and her eyes couldn't make out much in the darkness. But she could make out the breathing next to her - heavy and irregular - it was Michael, she snuggled up closer to wrap her arms around his waist, he was still lying on his front his head tilted towards her.

He stirred slightly in her embrace and stretched out an arm to pull her closer - the warmth of his body reaching out through his thin T- shirt to seep into her body - a nourishing heat, she slid a leg over his thighs and could not resist kissing his face - she brushed her lips gently along his forehead and over his eyebrows, fluttering over his eyelids, tasting saltiness at the corners, her tongue delicately licking at the remnants of his tears. She then kissed his nose and then his lips- their softness pulling her in, teasing her to do more than glance across their silky texture - she pressed her own mouth to his and felt a response as his arm snaked around her and held her tight as he opened his mouth like an early morning flower the petals unfolding to allow her tongue to dart in to sample the nectar, and once tasted she returned for more - greedily capturing his lips in a fierce hungry kiss…

"Good morning - Ni-ki-ta…" he breathed against her cheek-- and rolling slowly onto his back he pulled her over on top of him, the pressure sending ripples of pain from the epicentre of his shoulder out across his back. Despite his attempts to muffle his involuntary cry of pain, his eyes watered -

He was terse and abrupt, in Section mode. "Besides - I won't be able to cope with what they may do to you to get me to break - are you going to co-operate or not?" His logic was impeccable but Nikita could hear the emotion in his voice as he spoke honestly - he needed her but the fear of what Den and his friends would do to her would be too dangerous to the mission not to mention his state of mind.

Although the dark sky was full of sleet and the wind blew much of it into their faces Michael was soon shiny with sweat and Nikita could read the pain in his eyes - he was pushing himself too hard - the bullet graze on his back was deep and probably infected by now. She accidentally brushed her hand across his back every now and then and could feel the stiffened fabric from the dried blood- he needed medical attention without a doubt and although she understood his logic, it didn't make it any easier to turn her back on him.

"Liar - you'll be frozen half to death one minute and feverish from that wound the next - but no way will you be fine - I promise I'll come back for you-" despite her resolve to be strong she had difficulty holding back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

They hugged each other fiercely - drawing comfort and warmth from each other while they could - then Nikita held onto the sides of the window frame and swung her legs one at a time through the narrow gap. As she dropped down to the base of the wall she turned to see that Michael had already begun replacing the boards to disguise the hole.

Michael huddled in the corner of the room - a dirty blanket wrapped around his shoulders - he could allow himself the luxury of succumbing to the pain now that Nikita had left the house. The pain in his back and shoulder was excruciating - the wound was no doubt infected - he could feel the inflammation as the skin stretched tightly over his back. He had tried to pull the shirt away from the blood but it seemed stuck fast - it would need to be soaked off. He smiled to himself as he considered that the chances of a hot shower were rather remote.

He had to save his energy for the next stage - he knew this was just a staging post - that he would soon be passed on to the next level - only when he had reached the centre of the organisation that had originally hired the woman that impersonated Karoff would he be able to extricated. Until then he would have to bear with it.

Meanwhile Nikita sat by a tree stump weighing up what to do next - she would not abandon Michael - but whether she could best help him inside or out of Section was her current dilemma. She wiped her nose on the edge of the grey blanket and her mind was made up for her as the smell of rat urine assailed her nostrils almost making her gag.

The two thugs grabbed hold of Michael's arms the blanket slipping to the floor as they hauled him to his feet - they held him between them as Den moved closer, rubbing his left hand in a threatening manner over his right hand which was clenched in a tight fist. -

Michael just glared at the man in front of him - he'd endured worse in the past than a few blows to the stomach. He looked on in contempt - Den was merely a middleman, a hired thug himself, just doing the dirty work for those who paid well and kept their hands clean.

"Shit - we're goin' to 'ave to move right away - Ken - give the man a bell and tell 'im we'll meet at the warehouse. Now thanks to you and your girlfriend sunshine we've got to move on earlier than I wanted - that makes things inconvenient for me and I don't like inconveniences."

Nikita shut her eyes tight so she could concentrate on what was happening in the farmhouse … she could hear Michael coughing again. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing…. Then she heard the sickening thumps as she could visualise the thug's fists yet again connecting with Michael's torso - then a heavier thud as if something had fallen to the ground -Michael she assumed …She strained to hear above his coughing fit - she thought she heard more impacts - oh God - she should have stayed with him. Her heart was in her mouth as she listened in to the beating he was receiving. Then she heard shouting as Den ordered the other two men to scout around the building for signs of her ….she suddenly thought about the mud - the footprints would lead a trail straight back to the van -

As the Section vehicle drove off, Nikita followed the conversation up until the point where she could discern the sounds of Michael being dragged out of the house towards the truck and then the sound of an engine spluttering into life. The splashing of tyres through puddles were the last sounds the tracker picked up.

"OK - what channel for the transmitter on the truck?" Nikita opened her eyes to glare at the other three men in the van besides the driver - they all looked away from her - finding reasons to adjust their packs and check their weapons. "Hey - you guys did place a transmitter on the van - didn't you?"

"Damn - so we know where he's going but not what's going on!" Nikita was furious and torn between the compulsion to stick close to Michael and the burning desire to interrogate the woman - to hell with what condition she was in - Nikita would make her talk…. She reasoned with herself that as Michael was implanted with a tracker - she would always be able to locate him later - after all they couldn't get far could they?

Michael was bound and gagged in the back of the truck - only just aware of his surroundings. A glancing blow from one of Kev's steel toe capped boots had unfortunately struck his head close to the site of his barely healed injury - plunging him into a nauseous semi - conscious state. He wondered how much longer his reserves could last, but he reassured himself that the next link in the chain he was being passed along would be the last.

He was beginning to feel like the parcel in a gruesome game of pass-the-parcel where whenever the music stopped the parcel got ripped to pieces - he shook his head to shake off the strange images and regretted it immediately as yet another wave of vertigo struck him.

He gathered from fragments of conversation that they had traced her footsteps to the main road - they had then assumed that she'd got lucky and hitched a lift - comments about her legs and how she'd find it easy hitching followed amongst other more lewd remarks, making Michael grateful that he'd persuaded her to leave when he had.

As Kev drove along the back lanes regardless of speed restrictions or traffic regulations generally, Vince amused himself by idly fiddling with the gadget they'd taken from Nikita's coat - he flicked on the power switch and twiddled the knob - he nearly dropped it when it emitted a high frequency buzzing -

The driver nodded frantically, afraid that their boss would be mad at them if they admitted to not having carried out the full strip-search as they had been instructed - but one look at that bloke's eyes had made it clear that there were limits to how closely they investigated his body and woe betide them if they crossed those boundaries. OK - the geezer was injured - but he looked bloody dangerous none-the-less.

"Not on the surface- maybe they put one inside 'im- ! SHIT!!!" Den slammed his fist against the dashboard and then adjusted the knob on the device again and turned slowly - yes, his suspicions were correct - their package in the back was sending out a signal, there was no doubt about it.

"Nikita - you will debrief first - your report as sent in en route seems to have a number of discrepancies - not to mention some gaping holes - by the way did you know you're bleeding?" Nikita looked down at her top and saw the dark stain that showed where a neglected stab wound had been making its presence felt throughout the return journey - she had kept telling herself - not yet, I'll have it seen to later…

Nikita pulled her tank top over her head shaking loose her hair in as provocative way as she could without being too obvious - then she hopped up on the examination bench and leaned back revealing a large expanse of midriff all the way down to her navel.

"Sure thing - " She swung her long legs up onto the bench and swivelled her body round and then deliberately wriggled to make herself more comfortable - completely aware of the effect she was having on the poor medic. She even contrived to moan softly as he probed the wound - resisting the temptation to tell him to shove his forceps where the sun doesn’t shine…

As Gilmore leaned over Nikita - attending her knife wound - he told her that Karoff had been shot in the leg, that the bullet had nicked a femoral vein and she had lost a lot of blood, however housekeeping had arrived in time to apply a tourniquet and she had recovered on the way back. It had been touch and go - but apparently Madeline had insisted she be brought in alive. She had regained consciousness and was being held in a secure room.

Den got out and straightening the lapels on his dark overcoat and flexing his shoulders he walked across the road to the front door of a smart looking establishment on Harley Street. The polished oak door had a shiny brass plate on it declaring the doctor's credentials - a graduate of Edinburgh Medical School and a specialist in reconstructive surgery he had a lucrative clientele in the centre of London. He had nearly lost his licence once due to malpractice and was in debt to London's other Underground for the retention of both his good name and his business. Now he earned much of his wealth from the London mafia and other gangs that couldn't always use the National Health Service, for fear of attracting the police to incidents like drug overdoses, stabbings and shootings.

The doctor would agree to help Den on this occasion - he owed him - Den had provided the protection that the doctor needed in day- to- day dealings with some of the more corrupt and amoral lowlife that worked out of the city, including the police.

He also figured that the guys that wanted the bloke in the van would be pretty pissed off if he handed him over with a transmitter inside him - and not only that - he did not want his operation being uncovered by whoever this geezer worked for. Therefore the only option was to get rid of the bug pronto and then hand him over, grab the cash and leave them to it. He'd contact the buyers once the package was clean.

Nikita had prepared an adequate story for Operations and had been fortunate enough to get away with it. She suspected that she had been used somehow - manipulated into following Michael- perhaps they had done that to make sure their tracking device was working properly…

Michael was dropped off round the back of the exclusive clinic and bundled down the steps at the rear into the cellar - where the X-ray equipment was situated. The room was small and lead lined. He was strapped to a bench, sedated to stop him moving about and thoroughly X-rayed. Both Den and the physician had assured the radiographer that there were no concerns regarding excessive exposure to ionising radiation - and that the young man did not have much of a future to worry about.

The doctor had enquired whether or not the man's injuries needed to be treated - Den had sniffed, and then agreed that maybe the back did look a bit messy and it was leaving stains on the furniture. So while the two men sat and waited for the X-rays to be developed they smoked cigars and talked about horse racing in the waiting room outside the X-ray suite. Meanwhile inside the room a nurse worked on the unconscious man's back.

She had pulled the bloodied T-shirt away with a sharp tug and grimaced at the sight of the untended wound - pieces of fabric had stuck to it and the sides were crusted with blood. The removal of the clothing had caused fresh blood to well up where the scabs had been dislodged. The area around the long groove was pink and yellow - infection had probably set in - a quick check of his temperature confirmed that.

Nikita didn't hear Birkoff's exclamation as she headed towards the security level on which Karoff was being held - she didn't see the commotion as operatives clamoured around screens - frantically tapping at keyboards trying to restore the signal -

"Well you could make me - but then I won't be able to tell you what I know - who wants Michael - what for - that sort of stuff - if you ask nicely I'll tell you want you want to know-" she licked the blood from her lips and smacked her lips noisily looking as predatory as ever. Nikita didn't trust her but felt she had nothing to lose-

Nikita stopped in her tracks before striking once more - this was not going to help Michael - sure it felt good to inflict pain on this creature before her who had brainwashed Michael when he was convalescing from serious injuries, convinced him that she was Simone and in the process had driven the man over the edge into a suicidal nightmare …… and then proceeded to have him abducted - although Section had been using him as bait ………as a result of which he'd been drugged and shot - the latter while protecting her …… God she had every right to want revenge on this woman --- and if it was not for the fact that Michael was tagged with a tracker so that he could be retrieved at any time Nikita wouldn't have been able to contain her rage at all..

"OK - let's try again - well you're wrong on one front at least - I had Michael before you contaminated him with your foul body and helped pull him back out of the pit you tossed him into - now despite what you or indeed he may think - I am going to get him back - with or without your co-operation - " and then to emphasise her words Nikita gripped hold of the bandaged thigh and squeezed hard - she could detect the bruised tissue beneath her fingers and dug her nails in to drive home her point…

"Well - this fellow is so full of metal pins, screws and pieces of unclaimed shrapnel I wouldn't be surprised if he set off the metal detectors every time he took a flight…. But I think this is what you're looking for - you can just make out some circuitry there and the longer wire leading out over the adjacent bone would be the transmitter itself… Ingenious - of course it can't be removed safely without a full surgical team - sorry old boy I just don't have those facilities."

"Positioned as it is above the frontal lobe of the cerebrum there could be localised trauma to the underlying tissue, perhaps some memory dysfunction, worst case scenario, short or long term personality change. But if as you say you just need him functioning adequately for a short period of time before placing him in the hands of others…it may suffice…"

"The scar in the region is larger than necessitated for the insertion of the device itself. My guess would be that it was placed there in the course of treatment of a fractured skull. That part of the skull is fairly thin, not the best place to insert a transmitter.

Nikita followed Madeline to her office in silence - she wanted to rail against the woman - argue that she was getting somewhere - but she knew it would be a lie. She had blown it - she'd allowed the woman to get to her … the comments about sleeping with Michael had hurt more than she thought they would. She would no doubt have taken the woman to pieces and not given a damn whether she got anything or from her or not.

"Believe it or not, I wish we could Nikita - she has breached Section security in an unprecedented way - she walked freely around the systems centre and we have no idea what she got Michael to tell her. To what extent we have been compromised is still unknown, that is why we needed to locate and sanitise those who sent her here in the first place."

Nikita opened her mouth as if to protest that that would be impossible without killing Michael - but by putting those thoughts into words she feared they would come true. She blanched and closed her mouth- her eyes widened in anxiety as she looked to Madeline for an alternative answer- "So you see Nikita we must have the co-operation of the Karoff woman-"

"Not yet - it is my intention to make sure she does come to care about him, the technicians are preparing her now. Shortly she will be so much in love with Michael that she will do whatever she can to help us achieve a successful conclusion to this mission."

"Both - so this manipulating, scheming bitch suddenly realises she is head over heels in love with Michael. Then you tell her that we are ready to just let him be taken by these guys and not give a toss what happens as he is under orders to commit suicide before giving anything away about Section -"

A quick glance to either side revealed no observers to Watts - all he could see was some yuppie 4 wheel drive parked up on the kerb - he idly hoped they'd get wheel clamped as he turned back to look down the steps leading down into the doctor's clinic.

"I don't know - but the transmitter is no longer functioning. I checked the schematics for the building - the cellar is lead lined - there is probably an X-ray facility housed there. But it shouldn't prevent the signal from being transmitted once Michael is out of the building… I don't understand…"

Birkoff run the sequence back and then replayed slowly zooming in on Michael's face - the young man was unconscious and looked ashen white, there was a purplish bruise on his forehead and red marks - but no sign of any invasive surgery.

Nikita did notice that he was no longer wearing the dark T- shirt, but had been changed into a loose fitting shirt. The freeze frame replay allowed her to make out the outline of a bandage to his back as they turned him round and took him back in to the clinic. She was relieved that his back had been treated, but the bruises on his head had not been there when she had hugged him earlier that day. She bit her lower lip as she recalled the sounds of the beating he had suffered after she had left the house in the marshes.

"N-no -I don't think so - the pressure necessary to destroy the titanium casing of the microcircuitry would also result in severe brain trauma and probably death." He could feel his chair being tugged back as Nikita's grip tightened yet again - he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Later - there would be time for that later.

At the point where the picture was frozen on the screen it was possible to discern a tiny trickle of blood from Michael's ear and it looked as though he had suffered a nose bleed as well - before they had been concentrating on the head itself.

Nikita released the back of Birkoff's chair and slowly turned to face Operations - she met his cold steely eyes and knew she was right. Her mouth opened, but before she could let fly with a torrent of abuse, he silenced her with a quietly, but authoritatively worded command.

Nikita gaped in total bewilderment at him and then followed - she had to hear what he had to say now. But in the back of her mind she remembered Walter's confusion about the lack of back up team listed to go out… now she was beginning to wonder.

"I think perhaps a broader view of the whole may allow you to focus your mind on the profile Madeline has prepared for you. Johnson was a security risk - I had reason to believe he was the mole within Section; there was good evidence that he was responsible for the initial betrayal of the mission in South America and then in leaking out Michael's condition to Karoff's employers later. So you see Nikita - you shouldn't feel overly sympathetic towards him or his demise. The rest of the team were abeyance ops."

"A surveillance team would have been expected, these people know our standard procedures. If there were not one - it would have aroused suspicions. Our target would have sensed a trap. As I said they had been spotted - the rear camera detected a car following them for the past hour - once they had confirmed visual on Michael I authorised the controlled explosion of the device in the Section vehicle. It will look like a bodged IRA terrorist bomb attack in the city of London… leaving no traces for our enemies on site."

"You blew up our own people?" Nikita asked in disbelief, realising that while she had been worrying over Michael's state of health, Operations had probably just pressed a button behind her calmly condemning the team of cold ops to their deaths.

"Nikita, it is imperative that this mission succeeds. Failure is not an option. Whoever is behind this is also behind the missile site in South America - we must find out what they know about Section and destroy them. Now the disabling of Michael's transmitter was an unfortunate development that I had not taken into account-"

"As I said, it was not expected. But if you had not interfered they would never have suspected that he was wired in the first place." Operations took delight in pointing out her role in Michael's present state. "If you want to attribute blame at anyone's doorstep for the predicament that he is in - I suggest you look to your own." The vehemence of his words was aimed directly at Nikita and he made sure every word hit home.

"Insubordination will not be tolerated. But for the time being you have a job to do - if you succeed I may overlook your temperamental behaviour - if not perhaps you won't care what I do to you by the time our enemy have finished with Michael."

"So you see Nikita - as of now the success of this mission lies with you, Karoff and of course Michael, although his current condition remains unknown. I really do not think you have the time to waste on petty recriminations now do you?"

Michael found himself lying in the back of a van … he tried to work out why he was there. It was dark, his eyes hurt … he closed them again as the pain in his head exploded once more. The pain receded long enough for him to concentrate on the sounds around him … he could hear rain - rain beating down on the roof of the van. Splashing sounds as the van drove though puddles.

The mission - that was it - in the jungle - it rained interminably here - never seeming to stop - then when it did the humidity was almost as bad. He must have got hurt - he tried to remember - yes - there had been a group of soldiers in a small clearing - they had a rocket launcher - he had run back to warn his team - running through the heavy mud. Then all he recalled was a crashing sound - rain and mud… cries from Shackleton as he went over the edge…

Again a splitting pain pulsated through his head - he tried to hold his head in his hands and then realised he couldn't move them… damn restraints. This time he let the darkness take him. At least he must have made it back to the van he thought -- Nikita would be there…The sound of raindrops pattering on the metal roof faded into the distance as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

"I only want him back safe and sound - it's up to him who he goes to after that. I swear to you - look at me Holly - all I want is for him to be alive and out of harm's way." Nikita couldn't help but convey utter sincerity with this because she meant every word. The woman sitting in the wheelchair nodded sullenly.

"That's how they operate - for security. The management functions through a chain of contacts - a web of intermeshing links from organised crime syndicates through to crooked officials in the police and military organisations throughout the world. You wouldn't believe how many are involved - I am just a small cog in a machine.

"I really don't know. To begin with I was to see how much I could glean about the day to day procedures of Section while posing as his dead wife Simone - but you screwed that up didn't you, you jealous bitch." Karoff spat at Nikita, eyes loaded with malice.

Nikita left the cylindrical cell and wandered back towards systems - Madeline had already provided her with a modified version of how Michael engineered the escape route when he got Rene out of section. It had brought painful memories to the fore when Madeline had handed over that part of the profile and Nikita wondered just how deliberate that was, if it was to remind her of the man she was trying to save and the possible consequences of failure?

Karoff's fears that Michael had been under orders to commit suicide had bothered her. She initially thought it was part of Madeline's strategy for getting to the woman, but now she wasn't so sure. She'd have to see Walter and maybe Gilmore - he'd been present when they'd put the implant in Michael's skull - she had nasty thoughts of cyanide filled capsules in teeth… Nikita shuddered trying to convince herself that these were just nightmares pursuing her into the waking hours of her life…

The van screeched to a halt in the loading bay of a warehouse near the Thames - seagulls were wheeling overhead adding their calls to the sounds of fork lift trucks moving around shifting goods from one vehicle to another. It was a depot that transferred goods to container trucks bound for the channel tunnel…

He decided it would be prudent to ask questions later - a quick look around the van's interior even in the dull late afternoon light was enough to convince him it was not a Section vehicle. His hands were not in any restraints more elaborate than a hastily tied piece of rope - it would appear that his captors - whoever they were - had not anticipated him putting up much of a fight.

His head hurt like hell and as he wriggled to loosen the rope around his wrists, he scraped his back on the interior of the van and had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out in pain. While he worked furiously at the bindings, he noticed how cold it was - his fingers fumbled with the rope due to their numbness.

Evaluating the situation as rapidly as he could, he surmised that he had been separated from the rest of his team - he offered up a hasty prayer to whatever gods still listened in on him that Nikita was safe. He had also been injured - head and back for certain, although his hip felt sore as well. He could also assume that somehow he had been transported to Britain. That would have taken at least a day he reckoned… so he'd been unconscious for perhaps twenty-four hours - maybe longer. Not good. He was probably not remembering everything he should. He mumbled under his breath -

At last he managed to free his hands and reached behind his ear to locate his transmitter - it was gone. So he was out of communication with Section - nothing for it but to go into mandatory refusal for the duration… the only problem being he could not recall what the mission actually was any longer.

Nikita had engineered the escape from Section for herself and Karoff as instructed. She had taken with her a lap top computer and a cell phone as well as weapons. She gave one to Karoff, but made sure it was loaded with blanks - she realised that Madeline's cunning plan had put her in danger from Karoff, she was sure that as soon as they had Michael the woman would try to kill her with no compunction at all.

"What's in it for you? Let's just say I'll not tell Angie what happened to her son. And for good measure I could throw in a few kilos of the good stuff - if you know what I mean. Just hold onto the goods until you've sorted out things with the paymasters. I'll be checking my account and if nothing goes in you may as well not go home.

Nikita tapped away at the computer keyboard in front of her - hiding the screen so Karoff couldn't see the communication she had with Birkoff regarding the trace on the number they were calling. Although he couldn't pinpoint the man's location, it was possible to identify an area.

"Not long - I can tell he's impatient to get this deal over and done with. No one likes dealing directly with these guys - unless you are one hundred percent certain they are going to need your services again, you just don't know if they'll put a bullet in your head as soon as the deal is done."

"Don't push it - I need you for now because you can drive and I'm still limping from that damn bullet that stupid bastard put in me. Oh yeah - and that was because of your heroic rescue attempt - the only reason either of us got shot was because you got in the way - you and your jealous streak nearly got me and Michael killed." With that she slapped Nikita around the face.

Den and Vince had left Kev in the van while they wandered over to the caravan with "Harry's Caff" painted on the outside in a garish orange colour that clashed with the pale green of the rusty paintwork. Inside the rank odour of greasy fried food, stewed tea and instant coffee assaulted the nostrils - but it was warmer than outside and dry.

"Bloody 'ell - these geezers are not 'appy about bein' messed about. Where 'as that stupid bitch got to…They say they can't contact her and until they do we 'ave to stay put and wait. I knew I should 'ave called her bluff, taken the dosh and done a runner."

Kev didn't know what hit him as he sat reading the newspaper in the front of the van. The rain pounded on the roof above him and combined with the sound of the crackling radio that he'd turned up full to listen to the football, he never heard the squeal of metal from the back as a door was opened. Neither did he hear his own door open - he felt a rush of cold, wet air and turning suddenly the last thing he saw was a fist hitting him square in the face.

Michael pulled Kev out of the driver's seat, taking his jacket first - it was a fleece lined driving jacket, which stunk of nicotine - but at least it was warm. He shivered as he pulled it over his shoulders and looking down at his bare feet standing in a cold puddle he wasn't surprised. However, one look at the man's feet persuaded him not to take the shoes as well - they were at least three sizes too small.

He got in the van quickly, turned the key in the ignition and started to drive out of the car park. He had made it as far as the junction with the main road when he skidded to a sudden halt as the radio news came on - the newsreader in his best BBC English clearly announced the date first - a date three months after Michael had left for the rainforests of South America - he'd lost three months - what the hell had happened?

From Stanstead airport it was a straightforward journey down the M11 into the East End of London. The industrial estate was easy to locate and as they drove on through the torrential rain both women felt they were getting closer to Michael - "You'd better ring Watts back - make sure he still has Michael and hasn't double crossed you-" Nikita spoke, the first words exchange between the two since they had picked up the hire car.

"Not if I see you first sweetie " Nikita flung her rain dampened hair out of her face and swung her legs back into the car. She smiled broadly as she reversed and deliberately drove through a puddle soaking the woman who stood at the roadside.

"Birkoff - Karoff has made a break for it - she'll be at this location give or take a mile for extraction any time now … Michael has initiated his own egress in the van - can you check on its position? - The number is P169PNS - thanks."

Michael had driven away far enough to make some distance between himself and his captors. Then he pulled over in a quiet country lane - partly because he'd run out of fuel and had no cash… Also he had to regain three months of lost memories…

He put his arms across the steering wheel and rested his head on the awkward cushion they made - the sharp pains in his head were becoming more bearable and less frequent but the nagging ache wouldn't go away. He was also tired and hungry; he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. As he fell into an exhausted slumber in the chilly van, he thought of food and sweet succulent raspberries came to mind - yellow for some reason... like the yolks of eggs. Then as sleep claimed his weary soul it treated him to a forgotten memory and he smiled as the word "Ni-ki-ta" slipped past his lips.

"I'm checking the local police CCTV surveillance on the M11 interchanges in that area. As well as monitoring calls from Watts cell phone - he has reported the van stolen to a contact he seems to have in the Metropolitan Police Department."

Birkoff had managed to extrapolate from the position of the industrial estate and the road network surrounding it that if Michael had not made it to the motorway by now he had probably headed down a country lane and was lying low until any possible pursuit had passed him by. Also knowing Michael he would probably seek to change vehicles as soon as possible. He directed Nikita to the most likely roads and left her to make her way up and down them methodically searching every inch for Watts' van.

Then she caught sight of the rear end of a van - almost camouflaged with mud splatters - sticking out of a gateway. She drove past slowly - turning her lights off just in case. She pulled over and stepped out of the car - the rain had died down a bit, but the wind was bitterly cold as it whipped her hair around her face, stinging as it slapped her cheeks. She pulled her collar up and slipping the safety catch off on her gun she crouched low and crept along the right side of the van towards the driver's door. Slowly she straightened herself until she could peer into the van - there slumped over the steering wheel was Michael - his curls unmistakable. Her heart seemed to miss a beat as she thought maybe he'd crashed - but a quick glance at the handbrake lever pulled up confirmed he had deliberately driven into the hedge this close.

He looked at her confused - she reminded him of a dream he'd had - of a woman with long golden hair woven into a long braid… but this woman's hair was free - it whipped about in the wind covering her face - he couldn't see her eyes or lips - just words - muffled.

"I don't know - I remember rain, the jungle, mud - the explosion, telling the team to run... then nothing until waking and escaping - what's happening Nikita? - I heard the news on the radio - I can't remember the last three months - what happened?" Hunched up in the grubby jacket he looked distraught, his eyes sweeping from left to right as if searching for clues to where the missing pieces of his memory were concealed.

"Nikita -take Michael to the nearest motel - there is a Travel Lodge just before the next interchange with the M11. Await instructions." Madeline's voice was carefully stripped of any emotion. Nikita gulped hard ... they weren't expecting this; she had a gut feeling on this one. She had to do whatever she could to help Michael recover his memory - all of the awful things that he's gone through he would have to relive, it was the only way.

As she got him to sit down on the edge of the double bed she turned a lamp on to get a better look at him. He was unshaven, the stubble on his chin softening the normally severe outline of his jaw. There were bruises on his face; she expected there were more elsewhere. The lump on his head near to the scar was unpleasant and she bet it hurt like hell, but didn't expect Michael to admit so. There were red marks either side of the old wound and the faint circular marks that electrode stickers leave behind if not cleaned away properly. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his lips cracked and sore looking and his hair a matted mess. He looked dreadful.

"Why are you crying - have I done something awful again? Have I done something to hurt you again?" He wondered if her reluctance to divulge what had been happening over the past few months was because Section had yet again placed him in the position of having to cause her pain.

"No - not this time - I'm just glad to have you back and sad that they hurt you so badly." She covered his cold hand with hers and shook her head slowly. She recalled what had happened in her apartment when he had apologised for hurting her and an unguarded reaction had resulted in him fleeing her apartment into the arms of Madeline..

"Let me be a judge of that - a bath will do you good - it'll warm you up and get rid of some of this grime." She gestured at the filthy clothes he was wearing and his muddy feet and after telling him to get undressed she went to start running a bath.

Nikita turned sensing his presence behind her - he stood - leaning with one hand on the door frame frowning slightly - he had taken off the jacket and stood there in his shirt, the buttons open and one sleeve half off, revealing the white bandages on his shoulder.

He obediently sat down on the edge of the bath in front of her - she slid the shirt off both shoulders, the expanse of his back beneath her fingertips. She carefully unpeeled the tape to check on his wound - it had been cleaned up and stitched - roughly she noticed, but the redness at the edges had receded - they must have given him some antibiotics as well she thought with gratitude.

Nikita got him to lean on her as he finished undressing and helped him into the hot bath. She knelt by the edge of the bath and gently sponged away at his chest - the bruises from his earlier beating were dark angry blemishes on his otherwise perfect body. She caught her lower lip between her teeth to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape as he winced whenever she pressed too hard on a tender area. She could see that his feet were covered in scrapes and cuts. The water soon became murky with grime so she used the shower to rinse the worst of it away as the water run out of the plughole. At least he had warmed up and was no longer shivering, coughing occasionally, but no longer in danger of getting hypothermia. Then wrapping him in dry towels she held him close… rocking him as they sat entwined on the bathroom floor -

Nikita lifted his chin to look directly into his eyes, she dreaded to imagine how he must have been feeling to admit to pain so candidly … she could see pain and exhaustion clouding his green eyes that were glistening with unshed tears of frustration and despair.

He shook his head slowly and then fell against her shoulder once more so she could not see his face screwed up in agony as yet another throbbing wave of pain threatened to overwhelm him. She was right he knew instinctively - but how could he tell her he was afraid to close his eyes…scared of what his dreams might hold for him…he just held on to her tightly and then softly asked-

Nikita slowly disentangled his arms from around her waist and helped him to his feet and across to the bed, she threw back the bedclothes and carefully lay him down on his side, so that his injured shoulder was not pressing onto the bed.

Nikita switched the last light off and then felt Michael's arms around her waist pulling her towards him - she could feel his need for comfort. His fear was almost tangible - he was scared she thought...afraid ... She cuddled up close under the clean smelling sheets, and felt his warm breath against her chest...he was already falling asleep, he was utterly drained…She checked one last time that her gun was under the pillow and then allowed herself to drift off as well.

He felt his arms held tight unable to move and then he was walking backwards down a long tunnel stumbling occasionally as he tried to work out why the walls seemed so close, but then he tried to touch them they were no longer within his grasp…

There was an explosion - he fell to his knees and collapsed, stunned - it was raining heavily and the thick dark mud was oozing between his fingers as he lay still in the darkness…. then the sterile light of Med Lab....Simone - why was Simone there then? How could she have been there? He thought Simone had taken him home - they had made love. Hadn't they?

Then he jerked as he found himself in a bathroom - the door bursting open and his gun knocked free from beneath his chin -he was going to shoot himself…but why? Yes - of course he had betrayed his memories…then in horror he backed away as Nikita's blood was spilt on him - a scream... he'd shot her… then the white noise in his ears and oblivion …Back in a corridor he found himself spinning around - no longer sure which way was forward and which way was back, then in the greyness he saw colour - bright red - he looked down at his wrists, blood oozing from the long jagged slits - that was when they'd come for him and shut him down, when all the colours went away…

He was rocking to and fro - his arms held close to his sides, tightly stuck fast, why couldn't he move them freely? It was too bright, the lights blinding him, he couldn't see, everything bleached out to a wall of white glare … then the lights were taken away and in their place short, fat candles - their waxen tears carved on their smooth surfaces trickling to the floor for him, because of him...they were warm and scented, there was another warmth there behind him ...he could smell her scent… then as he tried to turn to see he caught sight of her blonde hair - a ladder to freedom - if he chose to take it....

Colours suddenly erupted around him as he walked through what were they? Washing lines? Clothes…. Nikita's…flowers of fabric scented of her…their petals but a wrapping for the sweet nectar that she was to his soul… nourishing him…. feeding him…fruits…. Her smile… to suckle on the sweetness that was Nikita… to live in the light that she brought, to bask in the warmth that radiated out from her…. Then without warning, this brief interlude seemed to be swiped away from him, his stomach lurched as the floor was pulled away from under him and he plummeted once more into a tunnel of darkness….. Drugs…and pain…over and over again. A dark haired woman with a smile of ice…. and one with a smile of blood…A woman's body on his - she wanted to take what was not hers. Forcibly if need be. He felt nauseous as his body was molested, as she mauled him, undressed him … he shrunk away from her touch, but it was no good, his head was foggy…

Then out of the night she came… her blonde hair swirling as she seemed to tumble across the floor - a gun fired - he knew only that he had to intercept it - the bullet was for him, not her…. then an impact. He shuddered as it hit….the burning sensation across his back…then again darkness….where was she now……?

Dampness surrounded them ….she was there….he wanted so much just to hold on to her and never let her go…but there was danger…. he had to send her away…. his heart ached as he watched her make her way through the rain and the mud - as the darkness closed in on him he saw through a crack the lightness fading away, he saw her look back…he saw her eyes…. were they tears or raindrops that ran down her face?

Then pain once more…. mercilessly stamping out the feeling of love…sending it deep within him so all he could feel was the onslaught of fists and boots….. Then rain again - rain on a metal roof …rain that was like so many tears spilt… the skies rent open to spill their grief…the darkness of the clouds, the greyness like a pall of gloom taking away the colours …..why? why did the colours always have to be taken away? He sobbed out loud ..his tears trickling down his cheeks as he spun round in the downpour looking for her…looking for the golden rope that he could climb to escape this pit of despair, this well of loneliness…..

Nikita woke as she heard faint whimpers and felt his body contract against her, as if he had sobbed in his sleep…she snuggled up closer and stroked his damp hair from his eyes - his forehead was sweaty as well. She frowned and would have gone back to sleep had it not been for the trail of tears that she could feel with her fingertips as she traced the path they made from the corners of his eyes onto the pillow- a damp circle widening beneath his head.....again he shuddered and this time she heard a distinct sob.. Oh Michael…whatever you're dreaming of I don't think you'll mind being woken…

His eyes fluttered open and he tried to work out in the gloom where he was…it was still grey but in the darkness he could see the glimmer of gold, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see the gold was a braid …his way to salvation…he smelt her scent…felt her lips against his face, kissing away the trails of tears that run down …he felt the vibrancy of her touch and even in the gloom he recalled everything - including the last time they had lain so close - that time they were dressed…. She still had some clothes on… he slid his hands under the top to feel her skin… she moved back slightly allowing him to pull the top over her head and then his lips took hers and she gasped as his tongue entered her mouth… the sobs becoming moans of pleasure as the flames of passion flickered about them, the heat of their desire burning off the demons…a purifying fire that vanquished the darkness and brought back the colours to their souls. Once again complete and whole, they had found one another.

Birkoff stood nervously in Madeline's office aware of Operations next to him, his eyes burning holes in the back of his skull, or so it seemed - he gulped hard, his mouth dry as a result of the adrenaline flow he always got when dealing with these two together in the same room.

One word from Madeline - yet it held a complex set of instructions which had taken many years to process. Birkoff coped by keeping his reports purely factual, with the use of as few adjectives as possible - that way he made fewest blunders, and there was less probability of being questioned by either of these two vultures who delighted in wordplay and dissecting a person's sentences as though they could tweak emotions and pluck out someone's very soul by turning over a misplaced pronoun… Birkoff relied a lot on numbers, they were safe….Usually.

"Team 1 has Karoff. Using voice synth for Karoff, Watts has been fed Michael and Nikita's location. Team 1 is on site. Traces on calls made by Watts have led to the next tier in the organisation. Ingress is being made into the infrastructure currently."

"Without a functioning tracker it would have been pointless. This way we have caught hold of a thread which can be used to unravel the web - we have already made inroads into the outer strata of the organisation through the chain of calls made as a result of Michael's escape …"

"My suggestion remains the same - we should recruit her - she is an extremely resourceful and ruthless young woman. Supremely confident in her abilities to seduce, yet also intelligent…an asset to Section, we have few that fulfil all those criteria."

Nikita had been awake for a while - the sounds of traffic outside had woken her early and she had lain next to Michael, luxuriating in the warmth that radiated out from him. His scent intoxicated her, making her want to roll him onto his back and smother him with chocolate sauce and lick it off one square inch at a time…

She wondered about breakfast - no doubt the thoughts of Michael coated with edible sauces could only be an indication of hungers … perhaps room service could bring them something…She leaned over Michael to reach the phone and felt her hand tugged away from the receiver as Michael was roused by her movements … he rolled round taking her into his arms and nuzzled at her neck, raising gooseflesh on her arms and back …

Nikita and Michael dressed swiftly and silently - with each article of clothing they donned they transformed from warm lovers to cold ops. The dark clothing symbolising the lack of colour …the absence of light. They helped each other dress, wordlessly taking into account stitches and bruises that were still tender.

Michael had looked through the spy hole in the door and could see that it had been hemmed in - on either side there were cars parked so close that the doors could no longer be opened. In one car sat a familiar character - Kev - the other car was empty and there was no sign of Watts or his other hired muscle - Vince.

Nikita had smashed the window lock and had opened it fully. Michael watched her back as she pulled herself up onto the windowsill and then dropped to the ground on the other side - she looked around quickly before gesturing for Michael to join her … he landed beside her - grunting softly as the injury on his back was jarred by the impact….

Nikita took the safety catch off her gun and clutched it tight as she looked to Michael for the signal to run. As soon as he mouthed the word 'now' they were off - sprinting across the wet grass as fast as they could - crouching low to provide smaller targets.

They could hear shouting behind them and gunfire - but didn't dare turn to look. Another shot and someone cried out, then a screech of tyres on mud and doors being flung open. Nikita spun round aiming her gun and was shocked but pleased to see a Section van spilling out ops.

She smiled in relief, put the safety catch back on her gun and tucked it into the small of her back, before placing her hands on her knees breathing deeply to slow down her pounding heart…. Her vision had tunnelled briefly - and as she looked up again at the approaching figures clad in black with balaclavas hiding their faces, she wondered vaguely why they were now pointing their guns at her and Michael.

Before she could process what was being said she heard the shots ring out and saw Michael's shocked face as he cried out … the ops kept firing - the impacts knocking Michael off his feet and towards the edge of the tow path…he tried to stand and stumbled as another shot hit his damaged shoulder spinning him round as a final shot in his back threw him forward into the canal. A loud splash sounded out and then nothing.

Nikita was screaming - her fists flying out viciously, her feet kicking out until the men restraining her relinquished their hold - she ran to the water's edge but there was nothing. Then as she stared at the water calling out Michael's name frantically she saw blood and bubbles rising to the surface…. She would have dived in after him …were it not for the tranquilliser dart that stung as it embedded itself in her thigh. She collapsed at the edge of the canal…and the vivid greens of the freshly cut grass and silvery grey- green of the leaves of the willow trees closed in around her fading to grey and then inevitably to black…

Then the skies opened and the rain fell heavily - drops hitting the surface of the canal, a few red splashes of blood diluted in the dirty water and then more cold, drenching rain that ran across the prone form of Nikita, turning her golden tresses into sodden memories of their former glory.

Overhead the clouds had gathered once more, the darkness closing in on the men and women in the field, drawing them closer together. A savagely bright flash of forked lightning illuminated the scene in an unreal light for a fraction of a second, creating the impression of actors standing motionless on a stage before the curtain comes down on the last act.

Michael felt the impact of the bullets hitting the Kevlar vest, not penetrating but with sufficient force to bruise, maybe crack a few ribs… he tried to keep his balance … but it seemed as if he was being deliberately steered towards the canal… the impact of yet another bullet on the barely repaired shoulder hurt like hell and he was spun round facing the murky water of the canal, then another in the centre of his back - he could no longer stand and the sudden cold shock of the water as it hit him in the face confirmed that he had fallen into the water…

He tried to kick out with his feet to push upwards to get his head above the water, but it felt as though hands were pulling him down, holding him under, he struggled in vain...he was beginning to black out, he had not had time to take a deep breath before going under and the lack of oxygen to his brain was causing him to lose consciousness… he could feel water entering his nostrils choking as it flowed down his throat and into his lungs…

Just as he began to convulse with a choking fit he felt something hard being pressed between his lips and into his mouth, fingers seemed to be pinching his nose closing his nostrils as a mask was fitted over his face…the mouthpiece of a breathing apparatus and a face mask…. He blinked open his eyes but could make out nothing in the murky waters apart from a hand that appeared before his face signalling for him to breathe … he had no choice but to trust the disembodied hand… it was that or drown…he took a deep gulp of oxygen and almost choked.

The pain in his chest and back had been numbed by the coldness which had seeped through his clothes and was taking a hold of his limbs, slowing their frantic movements … confusion set in and then the numbness crept over him and he relinquished all control to the arms and hands of the men that had taken charge of his movements. As he was guided through the water he thought he saw a bag of red fluid bursting and spilling out, but he couldn't be certain.

Nikita came round from the effects of the sedative to find herself in the back the Section van…She looked around seeing tow ops sat with their eyes shut, one manning a com link and another typing away what she assumed was his report… she wondered where the others were - where Michael's killers had gone. Cowards obviously didn't want to face her … she felt for the gun in the back of her pants… it was gone, she wasn't surprised.

Although no one in the van really wanted to get too close to Nikita, afraid for their own safety, one of the men who had been holding Karoff earlier passed her a PDA. She refused to accept it so he laid it on the table in front of her.

Nikita leaned her head back against the van shutting her eyes tight and tried to analyse her feelings… why wasn't she in tears she wondered? She'd just seen Michael killed in cold blood … hadn't she? No, her feelings were of rage and anger, not grief - it was as if there was a nasty taste in her mouth that she couldn't get rid of. Something was wrong. Michael had been wearing a vest she thought … she knew with certainty - she recalled strapping him in to it earlier, as he had helped her with hers. His shoulder and back were too sore for him to get into it without her assistance. He had been shot … yes but there was no blood, not until he hit the water. Why hadn't he struggled in the water? Why had he gone under so fast? She could have sworn he was still conscious when he hit the water… What was going on?

The 4WD was parked on the street, it was a few years old, beaten up and splattered with mud …a lot less conspicuous than the shiny black cars that Section normally used. Nikita looked in the back and saw boxes of provisions, rucksacks, sleeping bags, blankets, drinking water, and cylinders of propane gas.

Great, they expect me to conduct reconnaissance on some god forsaken hillside in the middle of nowhere, by myself for an indeterminate amount of time... Bastards - they just want me out of the way until they think I have cooled down enough not to want to rip out their hearts… Bastards…

She got in and began to drive. The map indicated that she should turn off the main road, such as it was and head up a farm track - the track was steep and pitted with deep holes full of rainwater. The track was soon littered with large rocks and the occasional boulder as it headed between stunted trees and heather up what seemed to be a mountainside. She pulled over on a reasonably level patch of ground to check the map once more…outside the car she could make out fresh tyre marks in the muddier puddles …two sets of the same tread - going up and then back down again, they matched those of her Landrover. It looked as if someone had been ahead of her to set up the surveillance equipment on site.

It was getting late in the afternoon as she made the final approach, there was nothing there as far as she could see, and then she made it out … the cottage had been built from the local rock and was effectively camouflaged against the rough hillside in which it nestled. No electricity, plumbing or phone lines by the looks of things. She shuddered and hoped the advance team had set up a chemical toilet.

Looking out over the hillside opposite she was not sure exactly what she was going to be observing, she had still failed to read the details thoroughly, her heart wasn't in it. However, she acknowledged that some time alone might help, despite the hundreds of questions she desperately wanted answers to. She had heard somewhere that revenge was a dish best served cold… she would spend the time here preparing to serve Madeline and Operations a frozen confection distilled from all of her hatred and anger for them and their machiavellian machinations.

However, the beauty of her surroundings was subtly melting the icy feelings that were grasping her heart. She took a deep breath of the cool fresh air and sat on a limestone boulder and looked out across the valley. The sun was low in the sky now and highlighted the dying brackens in shades of ochre and yellow…above them the heather burned violet under a crystal clear blue sky.

She realised that this was the first time the skies had been blue since she'd arrived in Britain. The air was chill; it occurred to her that she'd have to light a fire to keep warm. Later …for now she gazed further in to the distance- towards Snowdon itself, white patches of snow still clinging tenaciously to its upper reaches, the surrounding mountains taking on shades of purple, and blue. It was so quiet, no sound from traffic, no voices…nothing but the gurgling of a brook as it cascaded down through the trees next to the cottage on its rush to reach the valley floor below. She wrapped her arms around her chest and felt the tears running down her face, it was too peaceful… it hurt… then as if from a dream she heard a voice, husky, weary, but undeniably familiar, the accent as the voice tripped over her name heartbreakingly clear….

"So did I… good of them to tell us wasn't it?" his voice though weak was tinged with a sardonic bitterness. If Nikita had been tempted to think he'd been aware of the deception, she could see in his eyes and hear in his voice that he had been no more aware of Madeline's plans than she had been.

Nikita turned about in his arms and holding them close around her waist she too gazed out over the valley as the setting sun set fire to the bracken with incandescent oranges and reds. They stood there as one, Michael's back resting against the solid stone walls that had no doubt witnessed this view for centuries. They looked out over the rugged wild mountains of North Wales and silently let loose the tears of anger, frustration and impotence.