Shuffling of the deck

By: Kimberly

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       Kim had a specific routine she followed every morning. It was quick, efficient, and developed over three years of coping. She showered, combed out her hair, and got dressed as completely as she could sitting down on the side of her bed. Her cloths for the next day were laid out on the chair next to the bed, where she could reach them.

       Everyday, she tried to forget what it like before she'd been shot, what it was like to walk without a cane.

       It was easier to dress most of the way sitting on the side of her bed rather than trying to balance on her healthy good leg. If she tried and balance on her lame leg and cane, she inevitably lost her balance and fell.  She'd pull her jeans and panties up to her thighs, and only then stand up and balance on her good leg and pull everything up into place, zipper and button them. She must have fallen ten times since she'd been back home, and had to rely on a cane. She never looked in the floor length mirror anymore, or checked her appearance. There was no point. She knew what the scars looked like.

        Since her injury, her life consisted going to work at the Section substation every day, and coming home to plants when she was done at the end of the day. There was a time that she'd enjoyed a bit of a social life. But things had changed. Her activities were severely curtailed. She couldn't take karate lessons from the Sensei. Operatives were nice to her, but because she walked with a limp and a cane, she couldn't do most of the recreational things they did. Even Devin had turned away from her. The scars she bore on her hip and knee made her a less choice piece of flesh. Devin had many to choose from too, and there were always women eager to please the substation head. Kim had been to much trouble because she had limited mobility in her hip, and couldn't rest on her knees. When she had heeled well enough, there had been someone else. Second best - she was last choice. Hell would freeze over before she'd beg.

       So she dressed in the morning, went into work, took on extra projects, came home and tended her perfect, scar free plants, and went to bed.

       Kim grabbed up the watering can with the hand that didn't hold the cane, and watered her plants before she left. She knew today was going to be a long day. Two big missions would be in play. She'd probably have to work throughout the night.

       Just as she was finishing, she heard her PCS phone go off, and she walked herself over to it reluctantly. She still had an hour before she needed to be in. It was probably someone wanting to know if she could pick something up on the way in.

       She turned it over to view the screen, and instead of it showing a phone number, she saw a distress code. Her blood ran cold. It was the most severe distress code that her substation could send.

        She quickly punched in the number sequence that would change her phone frequency and her cell phone number to one that only certain people in Section would have access too. The instructions that went with this type of code were very specific, and stringent. She was to stay away from her apartment and from Section until she was contacted by Section.

        Kim looked back at her bedroom, and despite orders, went back, and tossed two more shirts, two more sets of undergarments, and two more pairs of jeans into a shoulder bag. She moved slower than most because she walked with a cane, but she was out of the building in ten minutes. She hopped on the bus, and watched out the window as it pulled away. She knew she was conspicuous because of her disability.

       Operations sighed, "Why isn't this operative responding to our summons?"

       Michael remained silent and Madeline crossed her arms, "Without knowing who it is, I can't give you a reasonably accurate answer. We're lucky that Devin was paranoid enough to place trackers on all of his staff. If his computer system hadn't been destroyed in the attack, Legion would have undoubtedly gotten to the other remaining operative before we could."

       Operations looked out over the main floor silently. He was constantly reminded of the limits of even their vast cutting edge technology.

        "Send a team to recover whoever it is," Operations ordered, "If they're trying to run, we'll deal with them here, not in the field."

       Michael quickly left the room to assemble his team.

       "This is an operative or staff member from the substation we lost three days ago," Michael announced, briefing his team as they were taking off in the plane, "They're not responding to Sections summons. It could be fear, or it could be that they're running. They don't know that they've been implanted with a tracker."

       Alexandra frowned, "I thought that was something they did with recruits only. Did this substation have recruits?"

       "No, the substation head had trackers implanted in all his operatives and staff on his own. We can track this person, but we don't have record of who it is."

       Alexandra nodded her understanding.

       "So we have no idea who we're going to retrieve, or what kind of state of mind they're going to be in?" Dante asked.

       "No," Michael said calmly, "Under the circumstances, they either won't want to come back in, or they will be distrustful. This operative must be brought in alive."

       Kim thought she had resolved herself to her limitations. Over the last three days, she'd discovered that she hadn't. If she could walk like a normal person, she could have scouted out the substation, maybe some of the other operative's apartments.

        But she couldn't. It was frustrating. She'd tossed her phone when someone calling themselves Jonathan told her to report into the main station of Section One. She didn't know of a Jonathan. And when she'd grilled him, and asked to speak to Birkhoff, he'd hesitated, then said Birkhoff wasn't available.

       Kim was sure that Jonathan wasn't from Section One at all - more likely the group that attacked them.

       So now, she waited for the cover of night, and made her way back into her substation through a back entrance.

       She found the last door ajar. It had been breached. She peered around it, and listened. Complete and utter silence. There were no guards visible. Guards standing by tended to make a little bit of noise.

       She ventured forth, moving slowly, so she could carefully place her cane, not create any sound. It seemed to take forever for her to make her way through the substation. Her plan was to contact Section One, and tell them she was here - come and get her. From here, she could establish a secure line, and know it was really Section she was speaking too.

       But her hopes were dashed when she reached comm. It was all burnt wires and charred components. One look told her there was nothing to work with. She'd had to walk around bodies, bodies that were now starting to decompose. The stench was strong. She couldn't stay here long, that was one certain thing.

       She started up the stairs for Devin's office. She knew he had a secret phone up there no one was supposed to know about. Perhaps it was still intact.

       She hated stairs. Especially when she had to climb over a body on them. It was slow going, but she managed to make it to the top. There were days it would have been easy for her. In her old life, she went dancing a couple nights a week. Those were the days she never hurt for male companionship either. But that had changed since she'd been injured.

       It struck her that as she struggled to maneuver with her cane, that the last time they'd been attacked was when she'd been injured. She'd escaped unscathed this time. Ironic, considering she was certainly better able to defend herself then.

       Devin's office had been ransacked. His desk was turned over, the contents scattered - and the place where the secret phone had been connected, ripped from the wall and destroyed. Devin's body was tied down to his chair, evidence of bullets wounds in his knee's, his groin, and his stomach.

       Kim sank down, needing to rest. She hadn't slept in three days. She had kept moving as much as she could force herself for three days. Now, she was faced with evidence of a horrible death of someone she'd once thought she might have loved. She had no illusions anymore. He'd never loved her. She was a diversion, entertainment. Kim could live with that. What she hadn't been able to accept for the longest time was his rejection, because of the scars on her hip and knee. But he didn't deserve to die like this.

       "Oh god, Devin . . ." she said, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

       "Michael - they're inside the substation," Birkhoff announced.

       Alexandra knew that made things more difficult for them. The substation was a good ambush site for them now. Housekeeping hadn't even been through there.

       They slipped in through two entrances, and moved quickly but silently through the station to where the tracker indicated the person was. Alexandra was right behind Michael, then stepped to the right as Michael moved to the left of the door.

       A woman sat on the floor with her back to them, her head bent down, strawberry blond hair obscured her face. A pole lay next to her on the floor, and in front of her was the body of a man who'd been tortured.

       Michael moved, about to give the signal when a sob escaped her throat.

       "Oh god, Devin . . ." she sobbed.

       Michael froze. He knew that voice. Far back in his memory, a time he'd buried away when he'd been told she was canceled. He knew how her laugh sounded. He'd never heard her cry, but it was unmistakable.

       "Kim?!" Michael said gently.

       Kim heard the voice behind her, and if she could have leapt out of her skin from fright she would have.

       Instead, she scrambled for her cane, and brandished it like a weapon. She turned to face whomever managed to sneak up behind her, and froze.

       She'd thought of him many times. Mostly when she first came to this substation. The last time she'd seen him, he was dressed in black on black. His hair had hung loose about his face and shoulders.

        Now, it was partially pulled back. He was dressed in black, but it was mission gear, and unlike the last time she'd seen him, well over 6 years ago, now he was pointing a gun at her - along with several other operatives.

       "M - Michael?" she stammered, "I . . . what . . .?"

       Michael lowered his gun, and moved forward slowly, "drop the pole - keep your hands up where I can see them."

       Kim was surprised, but she understood. After all, they did find her in the substation, and everyone else was dead.

       She tossed her cane away, and held her arms up.

       "Get up," he ordered.

       Kim sighed, struggled to stand, with only one good leg. She managed to get up, and held her arms out while Michael quickly and efficiently patted her down.

       "Why didn't you respond when Section Contacted you?" Michael asked her.

       Kim took a deep breath, "I didn't know if it was really Section. I don't know of any Jonathan - and he wouldn't let me talk to Birkhoff."

       Michael searched her face, still unable to conceive that she'd been alive all this time, and he'd never known about it.

       "Tell me what your choices were," Michael ordered, "What choices did I give you?"

       "Life here, or a new life under a fake name, and you tried to talk me out of choosing life here," Kim told him, "Michael it's me - for real. What gives?"

       "We have to go," Michael told her, and turned away from her.

       Kim sighed, her cane was on the far side of the room, but she'd be damned if she'd ask for help. She started to limp over toward her cane, staggering as she went.

       "Michael," The redheaded female operative with him said suddenly, "The pole is a cane."

       Michael turned, and saw Kim carefully bending over to get the cane. She lost her balance and fell.

       "Damnit!" she swore.

       Michael strode over, and pulled her back up, "When were you hurt?"

       "Three and half years ago, when Red cell had us all running to save our hides," Kim told him, "Thanks - I can walk on my own."

       Michael watched her maneuver her way around the debris, bodies and wreckage. Her movements told him volumes. She was still fiercely independent, very used to dealing with a cane, and utterly exhausted.

       "We need to hurry," Michael told her, "Alex, take her cane."

       The redheaded operative took the cane from her, and Michael picked her up, putting her over his shoulder, fireman's style.

       Kim sighed, and resigned herself to be carried out in such an uncomfortable and undignified  manner. She knew it left one of his hands free - a gun hand if need be.

       The other operatives moved in a protective circle around them, and Michael quickly took them out of the substation. A van was waiting for them.

       "Operations is waiting for you Michael," Birkhoff told him as they climbed in.

       Kim recognized Birkhoff's voice, his face, "Birkhoff?"

       Birkhoff looked at her, "Kim! I . . . you're alive. I thought we'd lost everyone in your comm."

       "I was outside the station when they were hit," she said, and paused for a moment while Michael set her down.

       The redheaded operative handed her the cane.

       Michael started talking to operations, telling him who they found and where.

       "Who else made it?" Kim asked Birkhoff.

       "A cold op - Tandy, that's it," Birkhoff said gently.

       Kim took a deep breath, and squeezed her eye's shut.

       "Kim," Michael said, handing her a comm unit.

       Kim placed it in her ear, and started to answer questions for Operations and Madeline.

       Alexandra watched the strawberry blond carefully. She knew Michael. Michael had been very surprised to see her. It was obvious that Kim was fiercely independent. Michael also hadn't known she was walking with a cane now either. It wasn't like Michael to lose track of people.

       She finished talking with Operations, and handed the comm unit back to Birkhoff, then looked at Michael.

       "I've haven't eaten for a few hours," she told him, "Is there anything in here?"

       "In the plane there is," Michael told her, watching her hand tremble slightly as she gripped her cane.

       Alexandra noticed it too, "Kim, are you OK?"

       Kim nodded, "I . . . I'm just hungry."

       Michael knew she'd just lied, and he knew why. Operatives with health problems weren't kept around long. She was comm staff, but even there, few things were left to chance.

       Alexandra caught Michael's gaze, her expression telling him she was sorry for asking.

       The van reached the plane, and drove up into the belly.

       Michael scooped Kim up, and carried her up the stairs.

       "Rouge," Michael said, "Why don't you check Kim over for any injuries."

       Alexandra knew what Michael really meant. Check out how much trouble she was really in, but hide it.

       Michael set Kim down on the medical bunk, and closed the door, leaving Kim and Alexandra alone.

       "OK, you can cut the bull, how bad are you?"

       Kim looked at the redhead, measuring her, trying to decide if she should trust her. Her gut feeling said yes.

       "I'm in trouble," Kim admitted, "I'm hypoglycemic."

       "Sit back," Alexandra ordered her, "I'm Alex as I'm sure you've figured out by now."

       Alexandra opened up a can of juice and held it up to Kim's lips. Kim's hands were shaking so badly now that she'd probably spill it without Alexandra's help.

       Kim drank it down quickly, and Alexandra opened another can, and again held it up for her to drink down.

       "Thank you," Kim breathed.

       "Don't thank me yet," Alexandra told her, pulling out a sucrose IV bag, "I still gotta check your blood sugar - and if I have to start an IV you're hand is gonna hurt for weeks. I miss the first five times."

       Kim bit her lip, and watched as the redhead prepared a test strip, then poked Kim's finger and squeezed out a drop of blood on the strip.

       "Shouldn't we wait to see if the juice takes effect?" Kim asked.

       Alexandra shook her head, "If your about to be shocky - I need to know now."

       Kim nodded, and waited.

       Alexandra's eyes widened, "42 - bet you felt like shit."

       Kim nodded, "How is it that you know about this?"

       Alexandra sighed, "My best friend in highschool was hypoglycemic. My father was diabetic."

       There was a tap on the door, and a moment later, Michael was stepping through the door.

       "She's low, 42," Alexandra told him, "I just fed her two cans of juice."

       Michael sat down across from him, "Start the sucrose IV."

       Alexandra started to pull out supplies, and handed the IV port to Michael.

       "No, you need the practice," Michael reminded her.

       Alexandra sighed, "I . . . OK."

       Kim was too exhausted to protest.

       Alexandra tied off her wrist with the rubber strip, and tapped her hand, waiting for a vein to pop up.

       "Now," Michael said softly, "Position the needle, poise the tip where you want to pierce through, then slide forward."

       Kim squeezed her eye's shut, in anticipation.

        A second later, she felt the needle prick, then heard "Hey! I got it, first shot! That never happens!"

       Kim opened her eye's, and watched as Alexandra taped the port down, hooked up the sucrose bag, and turned on the drip.

       "You got lucky," Alexandra told her.

       Kim managed to curl her lips up in a semblance of a smile, "Thanks. I didn't know Section was training cold ops in medical stuff."

       Michael popped open another can of juice, and handed it to Kim, "I keep my teams cross trained. A team member gets hurt - being able to treat them on transport may save them. It's something we're trying at the main station right now."

       Kim nodded, "I was under orders to stay out of your sight at any cost you know . . ."

       Michael nodded slowly, and looked at Alexandra, "Kim was a target - six years ago. She was able to assist section in getting to a group of dealers. She knew who she'd stumbled across, but not how to take them out. Section only knew she'd hacked into their system."

       Kim tipped the can of juice to her lips, "No one ever suspects a clerk in an insurance office."

       "She was deemed acceptable collateral. I was under orders to cancel her, leave no trace that Section had ever been involved. Instead, I faked her death, took her to Devin under a false name. I was back in Section a few hours when Madeline informed me she'd been canceled."

       "Devin told me I could remain alive - if I was an asset to section," Kim told him, "Something Michael seemed to think I would be. So far so good."

       "So you do exactly what?" Alexandra asked her.

       Kim managed to smile, "Well, we know I'm not a cold op . . . I could have been once though. I'm comm support. Computer technology. I can tear them apart, put them back together again, program, network them . . ."

       "What happened to your leg?" Michael asked her.

       Kim closed her eye's for a moment, and Michael suddenly wished he hadn't asked.

       "It happened when Red Cell breached Section One's security the first time. Devin scattered us to the four winds. I was with Devin and another cold op - Ray. Someone managed to find us. I was shot in the hip and the knee. To stop the bleeding, Ray cauterized the wounds. When we got back to the substation, they were able to operate, rebuild the hip and the knee - but not well enough to allow me to walk without a limp," Kim explained, "If Ray hadn't cauterized my wounds out in the field - I'd have died. So I really can't complain," Kim explained.

       "When did you first find out you were having trouble with your blood sugar?" Michael asked her.

       Kim looked down at her hand, the can of juice she'd been drinking, "A few months ago. I . . . it ran in my family. I didn't have this problem before, when you brought me in. I haven't gone to med lab. It's bad enough that I'm not as mobile as I used to be - I don't want to appear . . ."

       "Michael," Birkhoff's voice came over the intercom, "Operations is on the line again."

       "I'm on my way."

       "Rest - Alex will watch over you," Michael told Kim.

       "So Michael, why do I get the distinct impression that woman was more than a target?" Alexandra asked, cornering Michael outside of  Med Lab.

       Kim had debriefed in Med Lab for the last two hours. Michael had been there for the debrief. Alexandra and rest of the team had  been released after the first half an hour.

       "I was sent to seduce her to get the information we needed. Very similar to what happened with Kristie."

       Alexandra nodded slowly, "So you were under orders to dispose of her - and didn't?"

       "No, I didn't. I brought her to Devin's substation under a false name and identity. One that should have held up. Section discovered it. Told me she'd been canceled," Michael explained.

       Alexandra crossed her arms over her chest, "She seems awful comfy with you Michael . . ."

       Michael knew where this was going. Alexandra had raked him over red hot coals for weeks when Kristie was first brought in. Alexandra was thinking about Nikita - Nikita who was one of Alex's closest friends, - a mother of sorts in some ways. Loyalty ran deep.

       "I spent 10 days with her. It a few months after Simone had died. Kim could have been a friend under different circumstances. She's one of the few women that would have asked for nothing more. I have a lot of respect for her," Michael explained, "Nikita has nothing to worry about."

       Alexandra looked back into the med lab room, the strawberry blonde was now asleep.

        "Keep it that way Michael," Alexandra told him, "She may not see it the same way you do."

       Nikita listened to Michael tell her everything about Kim. The mission Michael had met her on, her profile, how he'd given her into Devin's care, how he'd been told she was canceled. It was very clear to Nikita in minutes that as Michael told her, he had a lot of respect and admiration for the woman. Nikita could see that it was nothing more.

        Michael wanted to make sure Nikita really knew that. Nikita suspected that Alexandra had probably read him the riot act once already.

        "So she's a computer fanatic like Birkhoff?" Nikita said, "Then I want her on my comm team."

       "Gail isn't working out?" Michael asked, surprised.

       "Gail is working out just fine - but I have to share her. Twice now I've had scheduling conflicts. We're short mission ready comm techs Michael," Nikita told him.

       Michael had been sitting on the edge of Nikita's desk, holding her hands in his as he spoke, "We need to talk about the wedding."

       Nikita took a deep breath, suddenly afraid, "OK . . ."

       Michael sensed her fear, and was surprised, and a little afraid himself. Was she having second thoughts? He'd wondered many time's if she regretted what they'd done.

       "We should pick a place," Michael said gently, "for the ceremony. I have two contacts outside Section One that I would like to invite."

       Nikita felt immensely relieved, "OH! The location . . . Michael I don't even know how big we're supposed to do this. If we're trying to draw attention it will have to be outside Section One of course. Maybe we should talk about a guest list."

       She pulled on of her hands from his, and brought up a word processor, and selected to start a new file.

       "I suppose we ought to invite Operations, though I'd rather not!" Nikita laughed.

       Michael had to smile, "I thought he'd give you away."

       "When hell freeze over," Nikita exclaimed, "I was thinking Walter."

       Michael would do anything Nikita wanted at this point, and Walter did seem a better choice.

       "Do you want to be married in a church?" Michael asked her.

       Nikita took a deep breath, "Really? You'd do this in a church?"

       Michael smiled down at her, how can I say no when you're face lights up so?

        "Yes, where ever you like," Michael said gently, "Except Australia."

       Nikita nodded, "Oh wouldn't that be fun to explain . . ."

       "I'd rather not," Michael told her, "We should extend invitations to all of Section One, we both know several people at the agency, and it would be political suicide not to extend the invitation to George and the board."

       Nikita had only dealt with the board a handful of times, and those times were true nightmares. But it was Michael's choice of words that got her attention.

       "Political suicide? Are we campaigning for something Michael?"

       "To stay married at the end of this," Michael tucked her hair behind her ears, "And as far as I know, you and I are the only two level 5 cold ops who have George's personal cell number. That implies we're next in line, after Operations and Madeline."

       Nikita blinked a few times, and sat back in her chair, her fingers still tightly enmeshed with Michael's, "I . . . I never thought of it that way before."

       "You're not power hungry. You take your position and responsibilities very seriously. That's one of the reasons you were given his number," Michael told her.

       Nikita shook her head, "Michael - I couldn't do either one of their jobs."

       "You have in the past," Michael reminded her, "You - We have a lot of time to go Nikita. The tides change quickly here. Nothing is written in stone. Lets worry about getting through this wedding first."

       "OK, so we find ourselves a big church, because we are inviting half the world," Nikita teased him, "Do we have a time frame for this?"

       "Four to six months," Michael told her, "Not a lot of time to plan all of this out."

       "We have some resources most people don't," Nikita reminded him, "So big wedding, in a church - what about the reception?"

       "I was thinking a buffet - at someplace like the Palisades, or the Candor," Michael told her, "Easier for people to walk around, and mingle. . ."

       "Another blond, did you tell Michael you were seeing a pattern here?" Kristie asked Alexandra as they stood outside Kim's med lab room, watching her through the clear portions of the etched glass.

       Kim was still asleep.

       "I called him on the carpet about how he was involved with her," Alexandra told her, "But I was a hair nicer to him about it than I was when you came here."

       Kristie chuckled, "That must have been an interesting conversation. So she's a computer junkie huh? I'd kill to be in her shoes some days."

       Alexandra looked over at her friend, "I got the impression that there are time she wishes she was a cold op. She's got a bad hip and a bad knee, walks with a cane. She impressed the hell out of Michael when he brought her in - and I don't think it had anything to do with sex."

       They heard footsteps coming up behind them, so they both turned. It was Darren. His hair hung loose past his shoulders, and he was dressed in work out cloths.

       "I thought you were confined to your quarters," Darren said, "Stephen finally gave in?"

       "Nope," Kristie said "But he's out of Section, and Madeline and Operations are in a meeting."

       "Uh - they were on the observation deck when I walked by," Darren told her.

       Kristie groaned, "Shit, I gotta go back to my room. Free, white, and 21, and I'm still grounded!"

       She started down the hall quickly.

       Alexandra laughed a little.

       "So what are you doing, spying on the new girl?" Darren asked her.

       "Yep," Alexandra said, looking back through what had become her peep hole, "But I gotta go work with some of Nikita's recruits. She has a woman who had a confidence problem fighting men, and a man who wants to be a bully."

       "Oh great, a bully. Right up your alley. Want some help?" Darren asked.

       "Sure," Alexandra said, "But don't hesitate to bale if you get tired - You've got some pretty big physical demands in line for tonight you know."

       Darren's eyes glittered, "Oh that's not work at all Querrida - I could be on my deathbed and still find a way to please you."

       Alexandra took a deep breath, her eye's traveling up and down him. Darren looked good, and he knew it. She'd accused him many times of dressing to attract female attention. He never denied it either.

       "I'm sure you could too . . .meet ya in ten minutes?"

       Darren nodded, and watched as she took off down the hall. His gaze turned to med lab, and the woman who lay in the bed. From what he could see, she had blonde hair - strawberry blonde really. She seemed to be trim. Her arm was up by her head, and he could see some muscle definition, but she did walk with a cane.

       Kim woke up slowly. She felt like she'd been hit by a bus. Weak, trembly, almost as if she was hung over.

       She looked around. Med lab, but not her med lab. A bag of sucrose hung next to her, and the line went right into her IV port. It was almost empty.

       She knew what she was feeling was the after affects of abusing her body for so many days. She'd had 5 bucks in her wallet when she got the distress call, and 5 bucks didn't buy a lot to eat over three days. Especially when she had to avoid anyplace with camera systems. She'd been unable to go to the ATM machine, because they could have flagged her account.

       She'd bought some fruit at a street market, but the last had been eaten 24 hours before Section found her. If she'd had to go another day, she'd have been forced to take the risk and go for an ATM machine - then take the next buss out of town.

       Kim felt around for the bed controller, and propped herself up.

        "You're awake," someone said behind her.

       Kim twisted around to look. Med lab staff, from the looks of her attire.

       "How long did I sleep?" Kim asked her.

       "Six hours," the woman replied, "I need to check your blood sugars."

       Kim closed her eye's. Section knew about her latest problem. Kim wondered what was going to happen. She'd never counted on being lame in one leg and having blood sugar problems when she chose to join Section, rather than life under a new name.

        The woman pricked her finger, and squeezed a droplet of blood out on a test strip, then slipped into a machine that measured the sugar content.

       Moments later, it flashed 98.

       "You're doing good," the woman said, "Are you hungry? I'll ring for a meal."

       "Thank you," Kim said, and watched her leave.

       Kim's clothing was no where in site. She wondered if maybe someone sent it to be burned. She must have smelled horrible. Now, she wore med labs standard white tank and white draw string pants. They'd x rayed her hip and her knee multiple times. Someone said something about a tracking chip needing to be removed, but the doctor said the three days of near constant walking hadn't damaged the prosthetic hip, or her knee. There was some swelling in the join area, but that was it.

       The door to med lab opened, and Michael came through, carrying a tray. A blond woman walked with him.

       Kim had heard stories of Nikita and Michael. They were legendary, even in the substations. Unbeknownst to Michael, Kim had been able to re-route a team to help him recover Nikita and the two other cold ops who were taken captive with her.

       "You must be Nikita," Kim said.

       "Nice to meet you," Nikita replied, pulling up a stool close.

       Michael set the tray down on the hospital bed table, set it over Kim's bed, and drew up another stood. He lifted the lid, and set it on the floor several feet away.

       There was ton's of food on the tray. Kim's eyes bulged.

       "Jesus Michael, I don't eat that much food in three days!"

       "We're eating with you," Michael told her, "Dig in. You're blood sugar is under 100."

       Kim rolled her eyes, "So what is section going to do with me?"

       "You'll work in comm here," Michael told her.

       "I understand your on-site mission qualified," Nikita told her, "I'm currently sharing someone with another team leader, so I'm going to ask for you."

       Kim opened her mouth, "I haven't worked on-site since I was shot."

       "You walk with the cane though, you'll be fine," Nikita told her.

       Kim picked up a sandwich, peeled the bread back to look and see what she was about to eat, "Devin told me I didn't qualify anymore, because if I had to run, I'd hold back the team."

       Nikita frowned, "You'll be in a van Kim. If something happens, the van takes off, with you in it. Worse case, you'll be hopping around the van reaching for equipment."

       Kim looked at her, "Are you serious? I could go out on-site again?"

       Nikita nodded, "I don't see why not. I don't think Birkhoff or Gail have been out of a van in years."

       Kim took this in, and slowly bit into her sandwich, "Has section caught up with the group that attacked us?"

       "We know who did it. We're still trying to track them," Michael told her, "We have a cold op from your station here. Tandy."

       Kim rolled her eye's, "Figures she'd live."

       Nikita looked over at Kim, with renewed interest, "Not your favorite person?"

       Kim took a deep breath, "I . . . She'll spew it all over so I might as well tell you. I was sleeping with Devin for over two years. It was just sex, just fun. Those were my rules and his. I was hurt, Med lab put me back together, but I have some scaring. Tandy replaced me."

       Nikita had started to raise a piece of chicken on a fork to her lips, but stopped mid air, "He turns you away - over some scars?"

       "They are some pretty hideous scars. One of the cold op's I was with cauterized the wounds to slow the bleeding - so I have some burn scars. The incision goes all across my hip and upper thigh - and I had lost some range of motion in my hip and knee for a while. When Tandy tells the story, she'll say I couldn't keep up."

       Nikita frowned, "It's not about keeping up."

       "For some people it is," Kim shrugged, "It's ancient history at any rate. Tandy is just one of those people that looks for ways to hurt other people - to pump herself up. I make an easy target because I need a cane to walk."

       Nikita rolled her eye's, "One of those. I hate that."

       "So how was it you became so versatile with computers. You're one of the very few rare people here that didn't commit some crime," Nikita told her.

       Kim laughed, "Oh I've committed a crime or two - just nothing big enough to go after me. It was just messing around mostly. I took a few computer classes at the community college where I lived. I read books, played around with things. Before I entered Section, I once stole money out a drug dealers Swiss bank account electronically, and deposited it into 50 charities - as anonymous donations. I did it from the library computer, then erased all the log-in's so they couldn't track me. That was my biggest fete before coming to Section - and one I worried about for months. I swore to myself I'd never do it again."

       "I didn't know about that," Michael commented.

       "Because anonymity was the general idea," Kim reminded him, "I knew this woman at Child support enforcement, and she'd have these dead beat parents that would change jobs to avoid paying child support. I'd track the source of funds for her sometimes. She'd call it an anonymous tip. It got more difficult to find them when they changed banks."

       Kristie woke up, and looked at the clock. Her grounding should be over now. She sat up, and stretched. The first thing she was gonna do was leave Section One for a few hours. The second thing she was gonna do was give Stephen the cold shoulder. Let him come to her.

       She showered and dressed quickly, and made a bee line for the exit. Just as she reached the elevator.

       "Kristie," Stephen called, catching up with her, "Briefing, ten minutes."

       He turned away and left. No 'how are you', nothing. He apparently intended to give her the cold shoulder. Kristie was going to wait him out. As far as she was concerned, there was no way in hell she'd let him win.

       Darren walked into the briefing room to find Kristie waiting by herself.

       "Kristie! Section is mixing and matching cold ops again huh?" Darren asked, sitting down next to her.

       Kristie shrugged, "I guess - you heard any rumors?"

       "Nope - but that doesn't mean anything. I wasn't hanging out in comm today."

       He was dressed in workout clothing, a towel in his hand. Kristie watched as he pressed it to his face.

       "Nikita asked Alex to work with these two recruits she has. One is a bully - and a man. Alex used him to wipe up the mat. The other is a woman, who is convinced that size does matter -"

       Kristie laughed, "Honey, it does."

       Darren laughed, "Yeah yeah, I know - but I'm talking about fighting. So I got to be the second guinea pig."

       "Get beat up?" Kristie asked.

       "Alex damn near always wins. If I can pin her, she'd got a problem. But if I can't get her pinned, she beats me most of the time. She's a little faster."

       "So is it working, is the female recruit thinking it's possible?" Kristie asked.

       "Not yet, but she will, it takes a few weeks of work to convince them," Darren said, "I wasn't a bully, but I never thought I'd meet a woman who'd get the upper hand on me. Alex relishes in it. If I'm going half speed, or not fighting up to par - she gets pissed at me. When I beat her, she gets really pissed, but at herself."

       The side door opened, and Madeline walked in.

       They were going in as a two man business partnership, who's personal relationship was a matter of rumor. Section had just taken the real Jessie Meyer and Juan Diego. They were going to go meet the target as arms dealers, accepting an invitation to his home in the country. It was the only place he did business. He never left. Section would supply the arms that they were selling, and track where they eventually ended up.

       Kristie's wardrobe consisted of very feminine silk business suits, pant suits, and the like. The outfits bespoke elegance and money. Kristie felt a brief pang of regret for her old life.

        She and Darren had assumed their covers, and arrived at Marshal Hirt's - their target's home earlier that afternoon.

       Darren had dressed corporate casual style. The acted close - just enough to make someone wonder, but not be totally sure they were together.

        They'd spent the afternoon talking business, then industry small talk. Kristie had just dressed for dinner. Bright candy apple read draw string silk pants, a tank in the same red silk, and loose red silk jacket. Madeline had even packed matching red pumps.

       Kristie coiled her into a French twist, freshened her makeup, and stepped out in the hall.         Darren was just coming out of his room. Black slacks, black silk shirt.

       Kristie leaned into him, "You look like Michael."

       Darren rolled his eye's, "I thought about that. You look good by the way."

       They sat down to a dinner of seafood, and fine wine. Politics seemed to be the dinner conversation of choice - threading into what kind of business opportunities arose. After dinner, they moved to the den, and continued to drink wine.

       "Drink one more glass, and we shall all retire," Hirt announced, "I insist."

       "How can we refuse then?" Kristie said, hoping her voice didn't betray that she was feeling the wine. It wasn't that she didn't drink, but she had consumed quite a bit.

       Their host walked back to the bar, and with his back blocking their view, poured two glasses of wine, and dropped two drops of something else in each glass. He slid the vial back inside his jacket, and turned around with the tainted glasses of wine.

       Both Kristie and Darren sipped the wine, and the conversation continued for another half an hour.

       Darren felt a slight buzz, a warm feeling, but he wrote it off as just being the wine. They had drank a lot this evening. He set his glass down when he was finished, and his eye's strayed to Kristie. She looked very relaxed. Red was good color for her, and he thought she'd done a great job with her hair tonight. It looked very elegant twisted up like that - and very enticing.

       Kristie looked over at Darren. She'd always acknowledged that Darren was a beautiful man. She knew Alex liked his hair down. Today Darren wore it pulled back into a pony tail, a small gold hoop in his ear. Kristie thought it looked good no matter how he wore it. The silk shirt Darren wore seemed to cling to his muscular frame as well. Darren wore everything well though.

       "It is time for me to retire," Hirt told them, "I bid you a good night."

       Darren knew he'd drank way too much wine by the time he and Kristie got to their rooms, side by side.

       Kristie patted his arm, her hand sliding from his shoulder to his elbow, "Night," she said to him, and half started for her door.

       Darren felt every nerve ending in his body respond. Now he knew he'd had way to much. Kristie was his friend first and foremost, and here he was getting turned on because she patted his arm.

        He let himself into his room, stripped down to his boxers, and slid into bed.

       Sleep wasn't coming easily though. His head swam, the room felt like it was spinning just slightly. He groaned, hoping to god he wasn't going to be sick.

       He didn't feel sick though. What he felt was . . . aroused.

       There was a knock at his door.

       Darren almost leapt of his skin. He hoped it wasn't their target. Evidence of his ardor was making itself painfully known, and it was difficult to have a conversation with a man like Hirt when you were standing in your boxer shorts, with a hard on.

       Darren grabbed up his bathrobe, and padded over to the door.

       He opened it, and found Kristie standing there, her robe tightly wrapped around her.

       "Can I come in?" she asked, looking up at him, "I . . . something doesn't feel right."

       Darren let her in, "I'm thinking we drank a little bit too much."

       She walked past him, and looked around the room, "I . . . I started to doze - and started to have another nightmare."

       "Damn," Darren said softly, watching her face intently. She looked so fragile, so frightened at that moment.

       "I . . . I know it's asking a lot - but I was kinda hoping you'd let me sleep next to you . . . maybe if I start to thrash around in another nightmare - you'd wake me up?"

       "Yeah, sure," Darren said, "As fucked up as we are, we're probably a little safer this way."

       He gestured toward the bed, "Pick a side."

       Kristie shrugged off her robe. She was dressed in a tank top and panties. Darren felt his body react instantly, and was glad to have his bathrobe on. He walked around to the other side of the bed, and with his back turned, shrugged off his bathrobe, and sat down, pulling the covers up to conceal his erection before she noticed.

       Darren turned the lamp off, plunging them not into darkness, but dim lighting. The lamp outside was very bright, and shined right through the blinds that Darren had been unable to close earlier. He couldn't find the lines.

       "Kinda like sleeping in Vegas," Kristie laughed, suddenly very aware Darren, his nearness, how good he smelled.

       "Yeah," he said, "Next time we go . . . we go for fun. No business."

       "Deal," Kristie said.

       They both laid there on opposite sides of the double bed - a bed both of them were thinking seemed to be awfully small, in agony. Both acutely aware that the other was close, and very desirable at the moment.

       "I can't sleep," Kristie said after a while, "I can't believe this."

       Darren sighed, "Me either."

       "I'm feeling really wound up," Kristie told him, "I knew I shouldn't have drank so damn much."

       Darren groaned, "Probably cheap shit too."

       Kristie laughed.

       "OK, turn on your stomach, I'll give you a back massage - you'll be asleep in minutes."

       Kristie opened her mouth to protest. If Darren laid a hand on her, she wouldn't be asleep at all. More likely she'd explode.

       But she didn't want to explain that to him, so she turned on her stomach, resting her chin on her folded hands. She felt Darren pulling the covers back to her thighs, and felt him move over her, straddling her legs.

       His hands started at her shoulders, and Kristie almost leapt off the bed at his first touch. The buzz that had been her constant companion for hours seemed to be getting worse, and an ache was building up deep inside her. She knew what that ache was too. She wanted . . . someone - and right now. Darren was making it worse and worse.

       Darren stayed up on his knees. He was afraid to sit down or even rest on the back of her legs. His head seemed to be buzzing, his ears ringing slightly, and he was convinced he was developing the worst case of blue balls he ever had - and Kristie was only making it worse. But they were pals. He could do this.

       He felt her tremble under his hands, his hands had worked down to the base of her spine. She moaned, and Darren felt his body contract. Spots swam before his eye's. He considered going into the bathroom and pretending to be sick. He could jerk off in the toilet, she'd never know, and he'd feel better - normal.

       Darren's hand brushed bare flesh at the small of Kristie's back, and her body twitched. This was too much. He had to stop, or she was going to explode.

       "D-Juan," she corrected quickly, turning over, and sitting up, and found herself her mouth unbearably close to his. Darren was leaning on his hands now, his head down, breathing hard.

       Kristie could feel his breath on the top curves of her breasts. It was too much.

       Darren looked up just then, and his face brushed hers accidentally. Lips brushed, and that was what snapped the last threads of their control.

       Kristie couldn't help herself. She parted her lips, her tongue darted out, and met his. Darren forgot everything and anything, slave only to the raging passion and the raging buzz in his head. He was out of control, and beyond reasoning. Desire and lust was all that existed. He kissed her back, and pressed her down into the bed.

       Kristie felt his hands on her stomach, pulling her tank top up and off, and she reached, finding the waist band of his boxers, yanking them down. She freed him, her hand eagerly finding and stroking his hardened shaft.

        "Now, I need it now," She gasped.

       Darren needed it now. He yanked her panties off,  pushed her legs apart, and in one swift movement, buried himself inside her.

       Spots swam in front of him blurring his vision, and the woman below him moaning and writhing kept all reason at bay.

       He pulled back and thrust into her hard, again and again, her cries of pleasure urging him on. He almost couldn't hear her, the buzzing in his head seemed do drown everything out. But he could feel, and what he felt made him drive farther and harder for more.

       Kristie writhed and moaned, totally lost to the sensations of having him thick and hard, stroking her body just the right way. She heard him moan, but just barely. The blood rushing through her veins drowned out almost all the sound. Her head was spinning, but it felt so good, but just as if she was almost someplace . . .

       Then her body convulsed, she cried out in agony and ecstasy, unable to focus her eye's, speak or even form a thought . . . .

       Neither one of them noticed the small lens hidden in the smoke detector.

       It was light, and he was warm. Someone was warm next to him. Darren smiled, and without opening his eye's, kissed her neck.

       She stirred, then sat up suddenly.

       "Hey," Darren said, "Baby, it's early."

       "Oh my god," she said.

       Darren felt like ten gallons of cold water had been thrown on him. That wasn't Alexandra's voice, it was Kristie's.

       His eye's flew open, and he sat up.

       Kristie stared at him, her eye's wide, the sheet pulled up to cover her breast. Memories came flooding back, crashing like tidal waves over both of them.

       "Holy shit," Darren said after a moment.

       "Holy shit?" Kristie said, "Holy shit? Do you know what we did?!"

       Darren nodded, "Yes . . . we have to go. Now."

       She nodded, and reached over the side of the bed. Darren turned his back, to give her some privacy.

        Kristie quickly slipped her bathrobe on and went back to her room, and dove into a scalding hot shower.

       "I hope to god we weren't too obvious," Darren said, once they were in their car, and driving away from Marshal Hirt's country estate.

       "I can't believe - no offense Darren  - you're pretty as far as men go, but you're the last person I'd fuck."

       Darren looked at her, "Same here. I never . . .oh my god . . . did you feel a little funny after that last glass of wine?"

       Kristie looked at him, and shook her head to clear her vision. She couldn't get image of Darren straining over her, gloriously naked . . .

       "Yeah, I did . . . shit, do you think we were drugged?" She said.

       "I hope so," Darren said, "Because if we weren't we are true scum bags Kristie. I just cheated on the woman I love with her best friend - and for the life of me, it was great, but I couldn't do it now."

       "Me either," Kristie told him, "What are we gonna tell Alex? Christ Darren, she'd hunt me down and cut me into small pieces."

       "I'm not telling her a damn thing until I figure out what happened to us," Darren told Kristie, "and I may not tell her then. She'd be devastated, and she - both of you, have been through enough."

       Kristie nodded, "I . . . I can't believe this."

       Walter saw the two of them walk out of briefing, and then Darren turned and walked towards Walter. Darren turned and looked at Kristie, a long look passed between them, but Darren continued towards Walter's station. Walter wondered what was going on.

       "Walter, I need a huge favor. I'll clean all your guns for a month if you can help me," Darren told him.

       Walter stopped what he was doing, and beckoned Darren closer, "What's wrong kid."

       Darren reached into his jacket pocket, and withdrew two vials of blood. One labeled D, one labeled K.

       "I need you to run these for chemical agents," Darren told him.

       Walter looked at him, "What happened."

       Darren took a deep breath, "We both felt . . . weird after a glass of wine at the targets place. We'd been drinking all evening, but not that much."

       Walter nodded, "I'll run them, but why not go to med lab."

       "Because if they'll want to know every last symptom, and I just can't . . ."

       Walter looked at him, and wondered what could be so bad.

       "Have a seat kid," Walter told him.

       Hours later . . .

       Walter looked at him, "Kid, I am not finding a damn thing, other than a trace of alcohol."

       Darren closed his eye's, "There has to be something . . ."

       Walter looked at him, "What did you do that was so bad? There are a lot of drugs that would fade out quickly."

       Darren looked at Walter, his wizened concerned eye's, time whether face. Compassion, concern . . .

       "I won't tell a soul," Walter told him, "Just tell me the symptoms."

       Darren took a deep breath, and looked around.

       Alexandra was standing over Kim, who was seated at comm. Alexandra looked up and nodded to Darren, then turned her gaze back down to what Kim was showing her.

       Darren looked back at Walter, and felt like the lowest life form on the face of the earth.

       "Intense arousal. I felt totally out of control,  and couldn't even form a thought."

       Walter looked at him for a moment, and looked down at the now empty vials of blood. Realization dawning on him.

       "Jesus," Walter sighed, "You got hit with some engineered X-tasy."

       Darren looked at him, "What does it do to you?"

       Walter sat down on a stool across from Darren, "It's a date rape drug of sorts. You slip it to your victim, they're so horny they think they're going to go insane. All reasoning capacity is totally lost. Most victims wake up the next day, remember what they did, but they can't believe they did it. No control what so ever. You become totally id driven."

       Darren sighed, and closed his eye's, "I don't have to worry about flashback or anything like that, do I?"

       "No," Walter told him, "It fades in hours. You can't find it in hours. Which is a real problem, because you have no evidence in your defense."

       "I'm not gonna tell a damn soul," Darren told him, "And neither is she. We talked about this already. Why destroy someone we both care about when we didn't mean to do it?"

       Walter shook his head, "Sounds like a good plan."

        Nikita let herself into Michael's apartment, breathing in the tense aroma of something he was cooking. Michael was always making them some kind of gourmet dish. If Nikita cooked, it was something that came out of a can that she could re-heat.

       "It's me," she said as she pushed the door open.

       Not that Michael wouldn't know it was her, she thought to herself. She'd never make it a step in if Michael didn't know it was her.

       She tossed her purse and gun onto the chair, kicked off her shoes, and walked into the kitchen.

       Michael pulled her close, and kissed her tenderly.

       "Miss me?" she asked, when the kiss broke.

       "Yes," Michael told her, "Get me that sherry over there?"

       Nikita slipped just out of his arms, and grabbed up the bottle and handed it to him. Then she sat on the counter behind him.

       Michael poured some of the sherry into the pan, and reached for a different bottle of wine to his left, and poured Nikita a glass of wine. He turned, facing her to hand her the glass, just in time to see her hike her skirt up, and roll down her thigh high nylons, exposing a tantalizing view of her lacy panties.

       Michael felt his mouth go dry.

       She looked up at him, and grinned. She tossed both nylons over the other counter and onto the  chair, and took the glass of wine Michael had just forgotten was in his hands.

       "I've been thinking about you all day," Nikita said softly, her voice husky. She extended her leg, and traced her toes up his thigh.

       Michael caught her foot just before she had a chance to caress his groin with it.

       "If you do that, I'm going to burn dinner, I'm trying to be a good husband," Michael told her.

       Nikita sighed, "Then you're going to owe me, big time, later on."

       "I think you're gonna owe me later on, for teasing me like this," Michael told her, gently letting her foot down.

       Nikita grinned at him, "What a quandary."

       Michael pulled her off the counter, and pulled her into his side, his arm sliding around her waist.

       Nikita leaned into him, content to just be near.

       They were quiet for several long moments.

       "I noticed Kristie and Darren seem to be avoiding each other since they came back from their last mission yesterday," Nikita told him, "You know what's going on?"

       "No," Michael said, "What are they saying?"

       "Nothing, that's the problem," Nikita asked him, "I asked Darren, and he said everything was fine, and left quickly. I'd swear to god he was lying. I was kinda hoping Kristie would have talked to you."

       "She won't," Michael told Nikita, "If they had an argument, she won't seek anyone's council."

       Nikita nodded, "Hopefully they'll work it out soon. Section is taking Hirt's country estate tomorrow night."

       "I don't think they'll be on the team," Michael told her, "If we need to use them as Jessie Meyer and Juan Diego again, we can."

       Nikita nodded, "Good idea . . . you see, I never would have thought of that. I'd never be able to do what Madeline and Operations do."

       "That's why there are two people Nikita," Michael told her, pressing a kiss to her temple, "You think of angles I don't often enough. Step back, I don't want this to splash and ruin your dress."

       Nikita almost commented on how domestic Michael was being, but held her tongue. He was just being Michael.

       He poured the mixture of chicken and vegetables and god only knew what else simmered in the sherry over a bowel of pasta, then carried it to the table.

       They sat down to eat, and as always, Michael enjoyed watching Nikita more than he enjoyed the meal. She reveled in every new flavor. Nikita truly loved her food. Her tongue would dart out to catch some bit of sauce on her lip, and Michael would feel his body clench in reaction. She'd close her eye's, savoring the taste, then swallow and reach for another bite of something, eagerly seeking out the next taste.

       It was these moments that Michael wondered what went on in her head. Did she remember what it was like to be hungry, living on the streets? Was she reveling in the joy of good food because it tasted good, or because it was like a rare treat for her.

       Michael had vowed long ago that he'd never see her go hungry again. It happened on missions every now and then. They'd miss a meal, or a few meals. He always made up for it.

       When dinner was done, and they put the leftover's in the refrigerator. Michael had just put the last dish in the rack, when he felt Nikita's hands slip under his shirt, and caress his bare skin. Her message was loud and clear. She wanted him, now.

       Michael turned, and pulled her towards his bedroom. Tonight he wanted to worship her, savor her the way she had just done the simple meal he'd prepared.

       He turned her around, and slowly drew the zipper of her dress down her back, his mouth blazing a trail down as he went. It loosened, sliding off her shoulders, gathered at her waist, then slid down her hips, her legs.

        Michael knelt down, her dress now pooled at her feet, his mouth reaching the edge of her panty line. He slowly eased them down her hips, his tongue blazing a trail along the curve of her hip. He felt her tremble as he worked, his fingers parting her already moist folds of flesh, parting her, stroking her.

       "Michael," she called to him, need strong in her voice.

       "Nikita," Michael breathed turning her around. His tongue worked across her stomach, teasing across where her navel was pierced. He'd been irritated and aroused when she'd done that, running wild with Alex . . .

       "Michael please," Nikita's voice pleaded.

       She sat down on the bed, frantically pulling at his cloths.

       "What ma chere?" Michael asked, his hands cupping her breasts.

       Need and longing, desire, lust stared at him through her blue eye's. She yanked frantically at the button on his slacks.

       "I . . . please, now, please . . ."

       Michael was surprised, but how could he say no? He freed himself from his slacks quickly, moved over her and entered her swiftly.

       She cried out, the sound telling Michael she was already close.

       "Is this what you want ma chere?" Michael murmured in her ear, moving within her, backing out, then thrusting in roughly.

       Nikita moaned, "Michael yes, Oh god Michael . . ."

       His mouth captured hers, her mouth hungry on his, her legs wrapping around his hips, arching up to meet this thrusts.

       She came quickly, surprising Michael. But he'd pleased her, so he was content. His own release came shortly after, and he lay with her there on the bed, kissing her neck, enjoying the salty taste of her skin.

       "I was afraid I'd hurt you," Michael said softly, his lips brushing hers.

       Nikita felt guilt wash over her, "No, you didn't Michael, I was just . . . I was thinking about you today."

       Michael felt her withdraw from him, even though her body didn't move. Something was wrong.

       "Nikita," He said softly, brushing her hair back from his face, "Tell me what's going on."

       "Nothing," she told him, "Hold me."

       Michael tightened his arms around her, and decided now was not the time to press her. If Nikita didn't want to talk right now . . .

       But Nikita always talked to him, about everything.

       "Who the hell hit you this time?" Darren said, seeing Alexandra in a sweat suit, Pepe in her hands.

       Darren scratched the little Chihuahua's head, and looked at Alexandra. She'd asked him if he was coming over or if she was going to his place last night. Darren almost told her he needed a night alone. But then she'd know something wasn't right.

       So he took her home with him, and made love to her until neither one of them could move from the positions they collapsed in. He wanted to purge himself of the guilty memory. But he couldn't.

       "Sensei - on purpose," She sighed, "I gotta go play the dejected abused girlfriend in the park, without Ryan, to get Carlson's attention. Madeline is concerned he's not getting enough exposure to me."

       Darren thought that if she knew what he'd done, it wouldn't be hard for her to pull off - that or she'd murder him where he stood.

       "Be careful," Darren told her.

       She nodded, "Yeah, I always am. I'll see ya later - I'll don't know what time I'll be in . . ."

       "Want me to sleep at your place?" Darren asked her.

       "If you want," she told him, "I . . . sometimes I worry I put to many demands on you - but I like waking up to you, being there . . ."

       Darren's eyes locked with hers.

       "I wish to god we weren't in Section right now Alex, because I really want to kiss you."

       She grinned, "I better go then."

       She turned away from him, and walked over to comm.

       "Well, are you picking me up Kim?" Alexandra asked her.

       "Yep, you and Pepe," Kim said, reaching up to scratch the dogs back. Pepe waggled his tail in response.

       "I have you set to channel D," Kim told her, "I'll be monitoring the whole time. If anything goes wrong, we'll know the moment you do."

       Alexandra nodded, then leaned down, "Darren - the guy with the long hair in the pony tail - he's probably going to hang around and listen.

       Kim looked over her shoulder, "Darren? I hear rumors about the two of you."

       Alexandra chuckled, "Ooooohhhhh yeah. I am a lucky woman, and I know it."

       "Be safe," Kim told her, "He'd be lonely without you I'm sure."

       Alexandra grinned, and turned away, and headed towards the van bay where her car was - at least, it was her car for this cover. It was a sporty little convertible.

        "Alexandra," Carlson said, "I thought that was you."

       Alexandra looked up at him, pretended to be startled, "Brian . . . I . . . how are you?"

       "Good," he replied, "Care to walk with me? I try not to stop moving when I'm done with my jog."

       Alexandra stood up, and they walked, Pepe leading ahead of them.

       "I though you lived in the city," he commented.

       "I . . . I do. I just needed to get away from it. I've been here once before, a long time ago," she told him, "It's a lovely day."

       Carlson looked at her, "You sound sad."

       She shook her head, "I'm fine."

       "I spoke with Ryan yesterday, asked him to meet me at the club, he said he was going to be in Miami, meeting up with is supplier," Carlson said, "I got the distinct impression that you were going with him."

       Alexandra took a deep breath, "Please . . .could you not mention you saw me here today?"

       "Yes, of course," Brian said, "is something wrong?"

       She shook her head, "He's . . . possessive is all. He gets suspicious if I spend more than 3 minutes in the dressing room."

       Brian watched her, saw the dark purple and blue coloration that she'd tried to hide with her sunglasses.

       "Alex," He said gently, and reached for her sunglasses.

       She allowed him to pull them off, revealing eye's red and puffy as if she'd been crying, and a blackened eye.

       "He did this," Brian said quietly.

       "I . . . He just over reacted . . ."

       "What could be so bad to warrant hitting you?" Brian demanded gently.

       Alexandra closed her eye's, "I tried to contact my little brother. Ryan didn't believe me."

       Brian frowned, "So why doesn't he just check with your brother?"

       Alexandra sighed, "My family won't take the call. I . . . I was going to try to explain this in delicate terms, but why bother - you know what I am essentially. Ryan is the second man I've lived with. The first . . . paid me well. The money paid for my grandmother's treatments. She had cancer. My mother felt it was better to let her die with some dignity, than to know her granddaughter was a whore. Eventually the man wanted another 18 year old, and I was 22 by then, and found myself on the streets - and I was determined to not work the streets. I met Ryan waitressing in a club. I couldn't make the ends meet. I could pay the rent, or eat, not both . . . so when he wanted to take me home with him, I went. Things were good for a while . . . but he's just so possessive. I wanted to take a class at the community college - just for myself - and he flipped out on me. Accused me of trying to scout out another benefactor. At this point, sometimes I think I'd be better of just being a regular street hooker, but he said he'd find me, and kill me if I  . . ."

       Alexandra turned away, and buried her face in her hand, and sobbed loudly.

       Brian gently put her arm around her shoulders, comforting her, "Now, now, calm down . . ."

       Alexandra cried into his chest, thinking about all the horrible things she'd done for Section to well up the tears. It turned out not to be so hard.

       She calmed down after a few minutes.

       Brian tilted her face up to look at him, "You have choices."

       She blinked, "He'll find me. . ."

       "Let me think about this for a day or two," Brian told her, "This will be our little secret, OK?"

       She nodded, "thank you - for not telling him. I don't know what he'd do . . ."

       Michael saw Alexandra walking back into section just as he was walking out of debrief.

       "Hey boss," Alexandra said, "Remind me that this guy is a scum bag - because he sure is being a nice guy right now."

       "He killed his last two female companions when they became security risks," Michael said flatly.

       Alexandra took a deep breath, "Yep - that's a good reminder. I'm pale enough as it is."

       "Are you going to comm?" Michael asked her.

       "Yeah, I want to see if Kim got a good clean transmission. We were trying out a new bug and tracker. It would be nice to be able to use this one when Carlson decides to keep me for while. Subcutaneous, no irritation."

       "May I?" Michael asked,  gesturing to where it would have been implanted.

       "Sure," Alexandra said, turning to give him better access, and pulling her hair back, "Just behind my ear. You shouldn't see any evidence."

       "None at all," Michael said, his fingers pressing against her skin, to see if he could feel it.

       They started towards comm again.

       Kim was pushing her chair back across an area of floor when they arrived. She looked up and smiled at Alexandra, "Loud and clear. You're pitiful when you want to be."

       Alexandra laughed, "I almost cried, just hearing myself."

       Kim played back a portion of the transmission, "Loud and clear - I could hear Pepe breathing at one point. You must have picked him up.

       "Yep," Alexandra told him.

       Michael had noticed that Ryan was standing over in front of a monitor in the corner, and it was turned away from the center of comm. Two other cold ops were with him. Michael never liked seeing the three of them together. None of them were top operatives, and never would be. True acceptable collateral most of the time. The three of them together was almost always bad news. Now they were obviously viewing something.

       Ryan looked up, "Alex - you gotta see this."

       Alexandra looked up, "What is it."

       Ryan shook his heads, "There aren't words to describe this. You gotta come look."

       Alexandra rolled her eye's, and walked over.

       Michael watched her go, suddenly feeling uneasy.

       Alexandra walked around to where Ryan stood. The screen was dark.

       "What am I not seeing?"

       Ryan hit the play button, "This. Ever wonder about your best friend Kristie and how good she and Darren get along?"

       Michael and Kim suddenly looked up.

       Michael started over, and saw Alexandra's face drain of all color. She pressed her lips together in a thin line.

       Michael rounded the corner, and stopped in his tracks when he saw the screen.

       It was Darren and Kristie. Kristie was on her back, naked, legs spread wide, Darren pounding into her.

        Alexandra suddenly reached out, hit a button, and the tape popped out. She yanked it out, busted the protective plastic cover back, savagely yanked the tape out in yards, effectively destroying the tape.

       Michael was about to order Ryan into his office, and demand to know why he didn't turn in the tape, "Ryan -"

       But Alexandra cut him off, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

       She threw the tape at him, hitting him square in the face, "Do you get off seeing other people hurt? Do you think I'm so stupid that I'd come running to you after you show me proof  that this happened?"

       "I just thought you'd . . ."

       "You're a prick," Alexandra told him. She bent down, and picked up the now destroyed tape, turned on her heel and walked away.

       Michael saw her yank her cell phone out of her purse, and dial a number.

       "You're confined to quarters," Michael told him, "If there was evidence on that tape we needed, you are responsible."

       "I didn't destroy it," Ryan said, "It's not my fault she's stupid enough to get attached to that-"

       Michael reached out, shoving Ryan back against the wall. Ryan gasped for air that he couldn't breath in as Michael's hand pressed him back by his neck.

       "You've been here long enough to know what procedure is. You turn in everything as evidence. When I say you're confined to quarters, you go to your quarters. When I say you're responsible, you don't blame someone one else for something you orchestrated."

       Michael yanked him off the wall and dumped Ryan on the floor.

       Michael strode back to where Kim sat, watching with wide eyes.

       "Where is Alex now?"

       Kim snapped back to work instantly, "She's in . . . level 2, supply warehouse."

       Michael turned and strode away. He was sure he knew who she'd been calling. That place in Section was quiet, and almost sound proof. Michael was afraid of what she was going to do.

        "Kristie - my dearest - most trusted - friend," Alexandra snarled out as she strode up to them, "And Darren - the man I love so much I lied to Section to protect."

       Kristie and Darren both felt their stomachs turn over and twist into knots. She'd found out somehow.

       "Alex, I know it sounds bad, but we -" Darren started.

       Alexandra threw the broken tape at them, "Sounds bad? They didn't have the sound up, thank god! But what I saw was enough! How could you?!"

       Darren caught the broken shredded tape, and looked at it.

       "Is that . . ." Kristie asked.

       "A surveillance tape of my boyfriend fucking my best friend? Yes, it is," Alexandra snapped at her, "In full Technicolor!"

       Darren took a deep breath, "Alex - It didn't mean anything -"

       "It didn't mean anything? Did it mean anything last night? When you took me home and fucked me? You fucked me the same way you fucked her!"

       "Alex," Kristie pleaded, "Please, we didn't mean for it to happen - we think we might have been drugged!"

       Alexandra turned her angry hostile gaze on Kristie, and Kristie was suddenly afraid. All the things she'd heard about Alexandra came rushing back. Killing Anna, snapping someone's neck in the gym . . .

       "Drugged? I know what it's like to be drugged out of my fucking gourd! I still knew who I was fucking!"

       "Alex!" Darren yelled, and grabbed her arm.

       Alexandra snapped. She swung at him, her open palm cracking loudly across his cheek, and shoved him back against the wall.

       She yanked on his collar hard, and then suddenly, all the anger and aggression turned to tears, "God damn you! I love you! Why couldn't you just be satisfied with me?!"

       Michael came around the corner, just in time to see Alexandra slam Darren back into the wall, then fall apart into tears.

       Michael gestured for Kristie to go, and she quietly slipped away, feeling like snake.

       "Alex," Michael said gently, "Let him go."

       "Michael - it's  - we couldn't -" Darren stammered

       "Not now," Michael said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice, "Tell Nikita she need's to bring Pepe home with her tonight."

       "I need to explain -" Darren started

       Michael gently pulled Alexandra back from Darren, "Later."

       Darren felt something die inside him when Alexandra turned in Michael's arms and sobbed into his chest. He turned, and walked away.

       Michael let Alexandra cry and cry until she calmed down from sheer exhaustion. He lead up another set of stairs, through a series of doors, that eventually led to the parking garage. He set her down on the passenger seat of his Broncho, then got in behind the driver's seat, and drove them away from Section One.

       He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket and called Nikita, "Has Darren talked to you?"

       Nikita looked across her desk at Darren and Kristie, both of whom looked like they'd just been witness to the most cruel vulgar atrocity possible.

       "Yeah - he say's they think they were drugged with something called X-tasy. Walter told Darren that it fades from the blood stream in hours," Nikita said.

       "They can sort this out tomorrow," Michael told her, "I have Alex - I'm taking her to my apartment. I told Darren your's just in case he decides he wants to confess anything else in the middle of the night. Can you bring Pepe?"

       "Sure," Nikita said, taking a deep breath, "I'll be there soon."

       Nikita hung up her phone, and looked at Darren and Kristie, "If anyone else came to me with this kind of story, I'd throw them out of my office."

       "Nikita . . . I'd never do this to Alex - not if I could possible help it, you have to know that."

       "I wouldn't, either," Kristie added quietly, "I mean - Darren's like my brother or something - we didn't . . ."

       Nikita held up her hand, waving them to silence, "I'm not the person you have to convince. If I were you, I'd do an lot of research on this stuff, and soon."

       Alexandra let Michael walk her into an apartment, and it was just then that it occurred to her that he wasn't taking her to her apartment.

       "Is this your place?" Alexandra asked quietly.

       Michael filled a glass with water, and set her down on the sofa, and handed it to her, "Yes."

       Alexandra looked around. Nice comfortable furniture. Pans and pots hung from a rack in the ceiling. He had a nice dining room table. He must like to cook . . .

       The walls had paintings hung on them. There were some framed pictures on the wall by the dining room table. They were Alexandra's work. Several pictures of Nikita. One of Nikita and Alexandra together.

       It was the paintings that got Alexandra's attention the most. An ezal stood in one corner, the painting a work in progress. It was a woman, laying nude on her back, her hair tosseled, partially over her face.

        "You paint," Alexandra said quietly, "Is that Nikita?"

       "Yes," Michael told her, "It's from memory - at the ranch."

       Memories slammed into Alexandra. The ranch, Darren taking care of her, making love to her to distract her from the pain . . .

       She squeezed her eye's shut, and shook her head, trying to force the memory way.

       Michael watched her, at a loss for what to do. There were no words to ease the pain she felt. Nothing Michael said to her could make it better. He knew she'd once been afraid to get attached, let alone love someone here. She'd tried to walk away from it more than once, out of self preservation. Then this happens . . .

       The expression on Kristie's and Darren's faces were believable - but Michael couldn't get the image from the video out of head. The video tape was truly damning evidence. Michael knew there were a lot of drugs that couldn't be detected in the blood stream, but their movements hadn't been sluggish. It was more . . . violent, than anything else.

       Alexandra drained her glass of water, and set it on the coffee table, sat back on the sofa, brought her knee's to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her chin resting on her knee's. She started blankly ahead, unseeing.

       Michael could only guess what was going on in her head.

        Kristie walked out of Nikita's office with Darren, shaking her head, "I can't believe this is happening."

       Darren looked at her, "I . . . wish to Christ I could go back three days and change all this."

       Kristie sighed, "We probably shouldn't be seen together to much. If Alex got the tape - the entire team probably got a crack at seeing it."

       Darren groaned, "Shit."

       "I'll be home - researching away from all the accusing glares," Kristie told him.

       She turned away, and started down another hall.

       Darren was tempted to leave Section too, but he'd be damned if he was going to hide. Besides, he wanted to find out exactly how Alexandra got that tape.

       When Darren walked into comm, Birkhoff saw him, and turned his back. Kim, the newest addition to Birkhoff's team, looked at him for a moment, her expression not hostile, but something less than friendly.

       Darren walked over to Birkhoff, "Who brought back the tape from the scene?"

       Birkhoff looked up at him, "I'm a little busy."

       Darren sighed, "Birkhoff - we were drugged. I'm trying to prove it. But I need to know who got the tape."

       "What does the tape have to do with you being drugged?" Kim's voice asked from behind them.

       Darren looked at her, "It doesn't. But someone made sure Alex saw it - and I want to know who."

       Kim looked at him for a few moments, "Michael already knocked him around."

       Darren sighed, "Who was it?"

       Kim shrugged, and turned back to her terminal, "I'm still learning names."

       Darren walked over to her station, and squatted down, so they spoke at eye level. He was very aware that he towered over her - and he didn't want to appear to try to be intimidating.

       "Kim - someone did this to hurt Alex - not me, and -"

       "And you love her? Is that what you're going to say? You want to protect her? She's a Cold Op. I think she can handle herself. You're wasting your time trying to get information out of me," Kim snarled at him, "GO AWAY."

       Darren sighed, and stood up. He walked to the far side of comm, and sat down in front of one of the empty terminals. He had a lot of research ahead of him if he was going to clear his name.

       Kristie's eyes burned from looking at the screen for so many hours. But she now had a two inch thick stack of information on X-tasy printed out.

        Then she heard someone knocking on her door.

       Kristie sighed. She didn't want to see anyone right now. But if it was someone from Section, they'd just call her. So she got up, walked to her door, and looked at the security screen. It was Stephen.

       Kristie closed her eye's and sighed. She had hoped to avoid him a while longer.

        She opened the door, and stepped back, gesturing for him to enter.

       He stepped in, walked past her, and into the living room, "Tell me what I am hearing isn't true."

       Kristie groaned, "Damn . . . Yes, Darren and I had sex on a mission. We were drugged. We're still trying to prove it."

       Stephen looked at her, "Walter ran a scan - and it came up negative Kristie."

       Kristie closed her eye's, "Some blends of X-tasy leave the blood stream after a few hours. We think that's what we were drugged with."

       "That's convenient,"  Stephen said bitterly, walking over to the verandah, "I was thinking you were getting even with me, for confining you to your quarters."

       Kristie wanted to pick something up and throw it at him, "Stephen, believe it or not, I know why you did it. I did not fuck Darren to get even with you. I can have damn near my pick of men here - if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't use someone who'd hurt one of my best friends."

       Stephen turned and looked at her, his expression cold, "So tell me how this happened then. I really want to believe you Kristie - but I just can't see how this happened."

       Kristie sat down on the arm of her sofa, "It was given to us in a glass of wine. Hirst insisted we drink one more. We did. Both of us noticed shortly after that glass that we felt like we'd been drinking a lot more than we had. There was a kind of buzzing in our head's, and it became really hard to reason. The drug caused intense feelings of arousal - enough to make us lose control."

       "I thought Hirst put you in separate bedrooms," Stephen pointed out.

       "I had a nightmare - and I was feeling really freaked out. I went to Darren," She told him.

       Stephen shook his head, "Kristie . . . that's never going to hold water."

       She stood up, walked over to her door, and yanked it open, "I didn't ask for you help, your advice, or your opinion."

       Stephen walked over to the door, and stopped by her, and looked down at her, his expression almost sad. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then stopped, and continued out the door.

       Michael and Nikita sat on the love seat, both of them watching Alexandra. She was curled up in a blanket on Michael's sofa, asleep. Pepe sat curled on top of her, his head up, eye's open, as if standing guard.

       "She'll be OK tomorrow," Michael said after a long period of silence.

       Nikita sighed, "The other day, Darren walks in my office to congratulate me, and Alex was there. If you could see the way he touched her . . . I believe them Michael."

       Michael looked at Nikita, "I've been drugged with a lot of things Nikita. I don't know of anything that causes what they're claiming it does."

       "I'd have grilled Hirst on what he slipped them if he was still alive," Nikita told him.

       Michael pressed a kiss to Nikita's temple, "Kita, I know Darren is your material, but-"

       "This has nothing to do with who is who's material," Nikita told him, "I just don't think they're capable of this on their own."

       "When I first met Kristie, I had a profile that said what I'd have to do to get her attention, how to seduce her, what would work. It was dead wrong. The only thing I had right was the Harley and leather gear. She took control of it and damn near seduced me before we ever left the bar," Michael told her, "She's a good operative, I like her as a person, but she likes to be in control, and she likes to make conquests. The last couple months we've ripped all that away from her - this could have been a good way to prove it to herself that she still could do this."

       Nikita shook her head, "Then why pick Darren - she'd know it would devastate Alex."

       Michael took a deep breath, "He and I would be the biggest challenges."

       Nikita sighed, and closed her eye's, "No way. Kristie wouldn't hurt someone else to help herself if she could possibly avoid it."

       "You've known her less than a year Nikita, I've known her for just a little more than that. It's not unheard of to miss big parts of a person's personality in that short of a time frame."

       Nikita shook her head, "Michael - we're gonna have to agree to disagree. I just do not see it."

       The next day . . .

       Alexandra went into Section One wearing some of Nikita's cloths. Pepe trotted next to her on his leash.

       "Madeline wants to see you," Birkhoff told her as she walked past him.

       Alexandra stopped, "Birkhoff - has all of section been informed?"

       Birkhoff managed a sympathetic smile, "You know how fast bad news spreads here."

       Alexandra shook her head, "Maybe I shouldn't have destroyed the tape. We could have cold tickets to viewings."

       She turned back towards the stairs that would lead her up to Madeline's office.

       Madeline keyed the door open, and Alexandra walked in. She was dressed in a simple navy blue dress. Madeline thought she'd seen it on Nikita before, but she didn't ask. Madeline knew that Michael had slipped Alexandra out of Section. Nikita had retrieved Pepe.

       Pepe was with Alexandra now too.

       "Have a seat," Madeline gestured, walking back towards her desk. On the way, she stopped and picked up Pepe.

       Pepe settled down comfortably on Madeline's lap, and looked at Alexandra.

       "This is a difficult mission you're about to go on," Madeline told her, "You'll have to maintain your role for weeks."

       Alexandra nodded, "I know."

       "In light of the video you obtained yesterday, I'm concerned about your state of mind," Madeline told her.

       "Did you see it?" Alexandra asked her.

       Madeline shook her head, "No. I wasn't even aware that it existed until late last night."

       Alexandra's gaze remained calm and steady.

       "Did you know about them?" Alexandra asked her.

       "No," Madeline told her, "I'm not sure there is a 'them'. Darren asked Walter to discreetly perform several blood tests. They all came up negative. Hirst was canceled before I knew about the existence of a tape, so I can't question him. We're still sorting through the evidence we found. It doesn't fit with what I know about the three of you."

       Alexandra was tempted to point out that there was a lot Madeline didn't know about them, but she held her tongue.

        "I'm fine Madeline. I'm hurt, but Section - the job - comes first," Alexandra told her, "I'd like to review anything we have on Carlson though. If I'm gonna spend a few weeks with the man with no backup, I don't want any surprises," Alexandra told her.

       Madeline nodded slowly, and typed in several commands, "Everything we have has been sent to your intranet mail."

       "Thank you," Alexandra replied.

       "Does Pepe like Carlson?" Madeline asked, gently turning the Chihuahua over on his back, and scratching his belly.

       "He doesn't mind him," Alexandra said, "He watches me when he's in Carlson's lap."

       "You're going to be particularly susceptible to Carlson's charm," Madeline told her, "Keep in mind what he has done to his last two mistresses."

       "Very dead," Alexandra replied, "I know. I won't forget it."

       "You can go," Madeline told her, "You have about 5 hours before you and Ryan have to leave."

       Kristie found Alexandra sitting in front of a terminal studying up for her mission.

       "I'll watch Pepe while you're gone," Kristie offered quietly.

       Alexandra looked up at her. Kristie felt her heart clench at how cold and hurt the redhead's gaze was. Alexandra seemed to look right into her for a moment. But Kristie knew it wasn't true, otherwise, she wouldn't look so cold. She'd know the truth.

       "It's bad enough you managed to take Darren from me, do you have to go after my dog to?" Alexandra said calmly.

       Kim, who was at her station several feet away looked up. She hoped they weren't going to have a big fight here.

       "Alex - I didn't! It's you he wants, you he needs - we were drugged - I emailed tons of stuff to you on this drug, I swear to god!"

       "Don't," Alexandra told her, "You of all people . . . You had Michael, you managed to wrap Stephen around your finger - and you set out to do just that to Tyler. Do you expect me to believe that you were drugged? It doesn't matter if you were or weren't. I saw you both. You both enjoyed it. That's what condoms you."

       "Alex -" Kristie pleaded.

       "I have work to do," Alexandra told her, "I can't afford to be off with this guy."

       With that, Alexandra turned her gaze down to the screen, and ignored Kristie standing there for several long minutes.

       Kristie walked away. Alexandra wasn't ready to see reason.

       Alexandra looked up when Kristie started down the hallway.

       "I researched the drug they claim they were slipped," Kim told her, "it does fit."

       Alexandra looked at the strawberry blonde, a woman she hardly knew, who was going to be her lifeline to section 12 hours a day for the next couple of weeks.

       "It might have been different if they'd come to me when they came back," Alexandra told her, "But they hid it. They weren't going to tell me."

       Darren saw her walk into wardrobe, and followed her in.

       "Alex," Darren said softly, when he walked in.

       They were alone for the moment. Alexandra stiffened when she heard his voice. She turned around, "I do not want to talk about this now."

       "Now seems like a pretty damn good time to me. You're leaving for a few weeks," Darren argued.

       Alexandra ignored him, and pulled her dress of the rack. She yanked Nikita's dress off, not caring that Darren was there, leaving herself in just panties.

       She pulled the dress on over her head, and turned her back on Darren, "Zip me."

       Darren walked closer, and slid the zipper up. Her voice was cold, hard. Not his Alex. Darren ached inside.

       "You've been sent tons of information on the drug we were given, I can't offer you anymore proof," Darren told her.

       Alexandra looked at him, "You should have told me when you came back. I might have believed you then. Did you use a condom?"

       "No," Darren said, "We weren't in control of ourselves-"

       "But you sure did enjoy it," Alexandra said coldly, "And you haven't used one with me for months. Lucky for you, I've always used one with targets."

       "Alex," Darren said, "I . . . I want to solve this before you go, just in case . . ."

       Alexandra laughed, and pushed past him, "That would solve your problem, wouldn't it?"

       He followed her out into the hall.

       Michael was waiting for her.

        "Are you ready?" Michael asked her, taking her arm, and leading her away, effectively shutting Darren out.

       Darren watched Alexandra leave with Michael, and felt his heart breaking apart into millions of small pieces. What other proof could he offer?

       "What do you mean, you can't get them?" Brian Carlson asked.

       Ryan was looking very nervous, and he hid it badly. Alexandra was sporting a fresh bruise across her temple, and a just healing split lip.

        It was bad enough that Ryan wasn't going to deliver, but he took out his temper on the wrong person. Carlson decided then and there that this would end, tonight.

       "It's not that hard to figure out Carlson. My source can't get what he told me he was getting. I'm looking for a different source!"

       Carlson gave a theatrical sigh, "Even I have a certain code of ethics. I don't promise what I can't deliver. And I don't take my temper out on women."

       Ryan turned his angry gaze on Alexandra, "What the fuck have you been telling him?"

       "I  . . . Nothing Ryan! I-"

       Ryan slapped her hard, knocking her off her chair, and sprawling to the floor.

       Carlson was up out of his seat, and two of his bodyguards yanked Ryan out of his chair.

       "I could kill you for this you know," Carlson said, standing nose to nose with Ryan.

       "Don't!" Alexandra gasped from the floor.

       Carlson turned to her, and pulled her to her feet, "He beats you, threatens to kill you . . . and you want me to spare his life?"

       "He owes money to everyone," Alexandra told him, "He's in a lot of trouble right now. If you let him go, he's gonna suffer a lot worse."

       Carlson picked up Pepe, "Toss him out in the alley. We're leaving."

       Carlson gently took Alexandra's arm, and lead her away.

       Continue on to Three Months

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