The threat from within.
Written by Kimberly, with lots of assistance from One Lobo
Darren groaned, "I need that damn Chihuahua, not her! Two strokes of bad luck Madeline! My arm - and now this!"
Madeline's lips were drawn in a tight line. She should order surveillance on the redhead now - and she didn't want to do that. Alexandra was good - she'd undoubtedly see them eventually - and Madeline didn't want to push her too far - not on this. Sometimes, in all the extreme measures Section took to keep it's operatives from doing certain things, they inadvertently pushed them right into doing it just out of spite.
"Walter has Pepe," Madeline replied calmly, and then left the room.
It was Walter's station that Alexandra made a bee-line for. Walter looked up, his expression telling her he was happy to see her.
"Pepe!" Alexandra called out, as she stepped into the partially enclosed area that Walter now shared with Brianna.
The Chihuahua leapt out of his little dog bed under the shelf, and bolted in the direction of her voice.
Alexandra bent down to pick him up, and he leapt up into the air as he raced towards her. Alexandra caught him, and hugged him too her, "Was my baby good for uncle Walter?"
Pepe answered by licking Alexandra's cheek.
"He was good for me," Walter told her, "The first day you were gone, Madeline had him in her office, and he growled at Operations a few times."
Alexandra laughed a little bit, "Smart, isn't he?"
Walter managed half a smile, "So where were ya?"
Alexandra sighed deeply, and slid onto the bar stool across the table, "Kosovo. Because of the security leaks, we did everything off line, and with no support, just the four of us - Darren got a good slice on his arm and it got infected of course - but he's recovering in MedLab now - plotting with Madeline on how to fuck with my head even more."
Walter groaned, "OK, tell me what happened."
Alexandra rolled her eye's, "I'm Carlson's Section contact - because I worked undercover with him for three months, Madeline ordered Darren to seduce me and give me a reason not to betray Section - as if I would ever do that. I overheard the conversation this morning when I was walking into MedLab."
Walter shook his head, "He may have been under orders, but what he feels for you is real, Red."
Alexandra sighed, "Walter - he should have told me - it's like that little tryst he had with Kristie - he should have told me. What the hell else hasn't he told me? How do I know his feelings are real? I've seen him convincingly seduce targets - maybe that's what he's doing with me - I mean - after all - Section whores me out to half the scum bags out there - a guy would have to be insane to want anything to do with me after that."
Walter shook his head, "You got it all wrong Red."
She shrugged, "What I got - is a strong desire to not be manipulated."
Nikita groaned loudly, and raised up her head to look at the clock. It was 10:00 am.
"Oh my god!" Nikita gasped.
Michael was instantly awake, his eye's scanning the room.
"What?" he asked after a moment.
"We over slept - it's 10:00!"
She sprang up from the bed, grabbing at a pair of jeans on the floor.
Michael sighed softly. His heart was pounding. He'd expected to find Red Cell or the Freedom league invading the bedroom, the way she'd cried out.
"They'll call if they need us," Michael groaned, "Come back to bed."
Nikita looked at him from the doorway, "But-"
"It's down time," Michael told her, and patted the bed next to him.
Nikita dropped the pair of jeans where she'd found them, and slid back under the covers, and into Michael's arms. Michael rolled them so he lay atop her, comfortable pinning her below him.
"Two weeks," he murmured, his lips brushing hers.
Nikita kissed him back, feeling her body already reacting to his, pressed so close, skin to skin. She felt him already hardening, his member pressing against her thigh. Nikita parted her legs, wrapping them around his narrow hips.
The kiss deepened, and Michael shifted his body on hers, pressing his thickened member against her sensitive nether lips, feeling her already slick, wet and ready for him.
For Nikita, it was sweet torture, as if his body was saying to her 'this is what I have for you, do you want it?'
Nikita didn't want to be teased this morning though. She rolled them, so Michael ended up on his back. She sat back, straddling his hips, shifting just at the right angle . . . and felt his member slide into her, her flesh stretching to accommodate him.
Two soft moans of pleasure escaped each of their lips, and Michael even smiled. It was as if their bodies were made for each other, they fit together so well, they were so well matched.
Nikita started to rock back, sliding him in and out of her with each back and forth motion. Her head was thrown back, her breasts thrust out, and Michael couldn't resist reaching up to tweak one of the pert nipples, then the other. She pulled his other hand to the place where their bodies had melded into one, and Michael knew what she wanted. His fingers found and stroked the sensitive bud, and another moan escaped her parted wet lips.
"Nikita . . ." Michael called to her softly, thrusting his hips up to meet hers.
He felt her inner walls start to contract around him, squeezing, milking, and he struggled to hold himself back, only willing to let himself come until he'd brought her to that pinnacle twice.
But Nikita must have sensed what he was doing, because as her body trembled in it's pleasure, she collapsed down on his chest, her lips sought out his nipple, and she suckled for a moment, still rocking her hips on his.
Then she nipped him.
That was too much for Michael. He gasped and moaned, and she sighed contentedly.
An hour later, he was making her breakfast. Nikita didn't cook much at all - and it was by unspoken agreement that Michael did most of the cooking. Nikita could burn just about anything.
Michael had always loved to watch Nikita eat. She truly enjoyed her food. Something as simple as a salad, or a greasy hamburger with cheese and bacon, a rueban sandwich, or one of his carefully planned out and prepared meals - it didn't matter what kind of food it was, she savored the taste, the texture, everything - and Michael loved to watch her while she enjoyed it. But at the same time, he never could get the reason why she enjoyed it so well out of his head. She'd spent most of her childhood half-starved. She'd gone without many a meal in her adolescent years. Michael had sworn years ago that he'd never let her starve again if there was anything he could do. It hurt him inside when they got stuck out in the field, and they went without a few meals, because he knew the feeling was familiar to her. It felt like a knife twisting in his heart when he knew she was feeling something so familiar as hunger was to her.
This was just one of the many reasons he enjoyed cooking for her.
She leaned back against the counter, a cup of coffee in her hand, and watched while he chopped up onion, pepper and mushrooms, for an omelet. Bacon was frying in a pan. Shredded cheese sat in a bowel.
"When I'm old gray and fat are you still gonna make me breakfast," Nikita asked him.
Michael leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips, "Yes."
Michael chose not to think about the fact that they'd probably not live long enough to be old and gray.
It was Kristie that came to visit Darren later that morning. She hopped in on her crutches, her smile genuine.
"I hear you had a close encounter with a wrong side of a flat metal object," Kristie teased him.
Darren nodded, "A rather unclean flat metal object judging from what they found in the cultures. I guess it was his dinner knife."
Kristie grimaced, "I don't remember you tasting like Chicken."
Darren groaned, "Be careful who you say that around - Alex found out I was under orders to play up to her and flipped out."
Kristie shook her head, "Let me guess - you should have told her?"
"She hasn't said it yet," Darren sighed, "If she ever speaks to me again, she probably will though."
Kristie sighed, "She's just as stubborn as I am - in different ways. If I can catch up to her, I'll be sure to put my two cents in."
Darren sighed, "So what did I miss while we were gone?"
"Nothing worth talking about, not here at least. Where were ya?"
Darren knew it was OK to talk about it now, the mission was over, "Kosovo - took out an intelligence cell. We did it all off line and with no tech support because of the security breaches."
Kristie nodded, "Good plan . . . we're no closer to finding that leak now than we were a month ago. I don't think they even have a suspect - which scares the hell out of me."
Darren shook his head, "If they have, I haven't heard anything. I wouldn't care to run anymore missions like we did this one though - we had no way of knowing what we were walking into, no way of knowing the best way to get out, it was like fighting with a blind fold on. I don't know how they did things before they had tech support."
Kristie sighed, "Tech support . . . I miss the field, a lot . . . I can't wait to be out of this cast and back on active status."
Darren grinned, "Adrenaline Junkie!"
"You know it," Kristie laughed.
"So how are you and Stephen doing?" Darren asked, "Just cause my love life sucks . . ."
Kristie drew in a deep breath, "I . . . It's been rough . . . but . . . I'll tell you all about it sometime - when we're not here."
Darren nodded slowly. She was worried about anyone listening to them.
"Kris - there was a time when I wouldn't work so hard over a woman like Alex - She's temperamental - affection starved, yet she isn't clingy . . . cocky as hell, stubborn . . . and I understand why she's pissed, but after all this time . . . I love her to death, but I'll never understand it. It's like I'm addicted or something - and I don't want a cure."
Kristie groaned, "Oh god, you're starting to sound like one of those mushy romance novel writers . . . one of the really good ones. They must be giving you some damn good pain killers in here."
She tapped his IV pole with her crutch, "I gotta get back to comm. I just wanted to come and harass you."
"I enjoyed the harassment," Darren grinned.
Alexandra followed her usual routine when she met up with Carlson. She changed the location on him at the last minute. She left extra early, and went into one of those cheap shoe stores, and bought a pair of sandals - it was too damn hot to wear her boots - at the end of July it was around 90 degree's outside.
The pair she chose were simple black straps that ended in being tied at her ankle. The heel only two and a half inches, and the same width as the soul of the sandal. She looked at them on her feet in the mirror and wiggled her toes. Not quite as much attitude as her boots, but it was 90 degree's outside and very humid.
She bought the sandals, and headed for the park.
When she got there, she came up on him from behind, taking her time in her approach, watching, just in case. She had no illusions about Carlson. His fascination with her would wear off one day - he had no loyalty to Section One. One day, he'd turn on her.
She hoped it wasn't today.
He spotted her when she was about 25 yards away. Short black flip skirt and black crop top, and sandals. She didn't have a jacket on, so he knew her gun would be in her purse.
She walked right up to him, her hands hanging loose at her sides.
"I hear you gave Madeline hell while I was gone," Alexandra told him, watching his face, watching for signs of . . . anything.
All she saw there was relief.
"I was worried about you," was his answer, pulling her into his arms, his mouth slanting over hers.
Alexandra kissed him back, searching for that spark that she felt with Darren. It wasn't there. The kiss was pleasant, she enjoyed it, but it lacked . . . something.
"I was fine," she smiled up at him when the kiss broke, "So what's up? Did you call to see me or did you have something?"
"Both," he told her, "If I give it to you now, will you stay a while? Or do I have to hold it ransom?"
Alexandra laughed, "I'll stay."
He produced a disk, and handed it to her. Alexandra slid it into her purse.
"I have a room reserved," Carlson told her, "It's a nice place. Discreet, but not sleazy."
Alexandra felt a knot twist in her stomach. He wanted to have sex - and as she had left Section to go meet him, Madeline had reminded her that she was to do whatever it would take to keep the relationship beneficial for Section One. Alexandra had struggled to keep from losing her temper. One minuet, they were worried about her loyalty, the next, telling her to have sex with Carlson to keep him happy.
I'm a well paid whore, a well paid dangerous whore . . .
She forced a smile onto her face as she went to the hotel with him. She took off her own cloths, he tended to be a little rough with her clothing when he undressed her. His mouth was firm on hers, firm and wet as he kissed her neck and her breasts, his hands a firm as they stroked and caressed. Alexandra avoided looking directly at him, pretending it was someone else that was touching her. She kissed him back when he kissed her, touched him the way she remembered he liked to be touched, and she felt a little wave of guilt when she felt her body respond and reach it's climax.
But something was missing. It was sex, it felt good, but it wasn't exactly great - not like it was with Darren.
Afterwards, he held her close, content to just be next to her.
"How's the father?" He asked her.
Alexandra sighed, "Brian . . . he's not a concern for you."
Carlson was quiet for a moment, "Are you still seeing him?"
"No," Alexandra told him, "But you know that I can't offer you any type of . . . real relationship - because of who I am, where I work . . ."
"It wasn't that Ryan guy, was it?" Carlson asked her.
Alexandra groaned, "Hell no. Please, give me some credit for taste in men!"
Carlson chuckled, "Would I at least like the guy?"
Alexandra pushed herself up on one elbow to look at him, "Why are you asking all this?"
Carlson drew in a deep breath, "If you weren't with Section - I guess I want to know what he's like. I want to see part of your real life."
Alexandra sighed. For all the horrible things Carlson was in his real life - he still loved her. Even if she didn't love him back, even if she betrayed him.
She could tell him some things to keep him happy, to keep Section happy.
"He's a nice guy - as nice as you can be in Section. He has sense of . . . ethics . . . he's honest in his personal life - which no one has much of. He was good to me. He gave me Pepe to chase away the bad spirits - in the Mexican Hispanic culture, a Chihuahua keep's the bad spirits and sickness from a home. I have nightmares, you know I don't sleep well . . . and for a while I had a nasty string of bad luck. I was pretty close to finding myself on a suicide mission. Pepe was a reason to keep going, no matter what happened to him, or my other friends."
"Is he dead?" Carlson asked her, "You said 'was' as if he was dead."
Alexandra sighed, "He's not dead . . . Things just aren't . . . we're not together."
"You said other friends . . ." Carlson prompted her.
Alexandra smiled, "Two woman who are operatives, two - no three other men who are operatives, a few support staff personnel on the inside. They're all loyal, they tell me when I am being stubborn, which is often. They forgive me when I lose my temper and vent my spleen all over - they baby-sit Pepe when I'm on a mission. I . . . I can't think of anyone you know of to compare them too . . . do you have any friends Brian?"
He shook his head, "You . . . I guess as much as you can be."
Alexandra sighed, and rested her chin on his chest, at a loss for words.
"I'm finished with this shit!" Darren snapped, "Take the IV out, or I will!"
The nurse sighed. She knew this operative wasn't usually so stubborn, but she also knew he'd do it.
"What do you think you're going to accomplish?" A male voice asked, walking into the room.
It was Marc - one of the Section doctors. He'd treated Darren on more than one occasion.
"It's a personal matter," Darren told him, "One I can't solve in here. Just give me some pills."
Marc sighed, "Let her cool off for one more day - otherwise she'd likely to put you back in here. She was pretty upset when she walked out this morning. I couldn't help but overhear."
Darren groaned, "You don't understand, just take it out, now!"
Marc waved the nurse away, and leaned over Darren's arm, blocking his view. Instead of sliding the IV needle out of Darren's arm, he slid a syringe into the port, and injected a fast acting sedative.
Darren felt the world tilt around him, the drug hitting him fast and hard.
"What . . .?" Darren groaned, realization dawning on him, "I need . . . she's meeting that . . . asshole . . . . Carlson . . . ."
"And She'll be fine, she's good at what she does," Marc told him matter-a-factly, "Tomorrow Darren, Tomorrow I'll let you go."
Darren felt his eye lids slide closed, despite how hard he was fighting it.
Marc waited until Darren was definitely out cold, and carefully placed the restraints on him. It wouldn't do to have him wake up in a 12 hours and trying to leave at two am when their staffing was low in MedLab.
Nikita walked in Michael's office, "Alex needs to pull her head out of her ass, and you're going to tell her to do it."
Michael looked up from the computer screen, at a loss for words. Did Nikita think he could work miracles? Alexandra ignored him half the time, and resented him the other half of the time.
"What did she do this time?" Michael asked Nikita gently. He knew her nerves were strung tight right now, with the wedding coming up, their hectic mission in Kosovo, her recruits . . .
"She overheard Madeline and Darren talking - Madeline ordered Darren to romance her - and of course Darren didn't tell her because he knew she'd flip out. So she overheard, and flipped out - and she ran straight to that butcher Carlson!"
Michael drew in a deep breath, "The butcher has intel we need - she's his section contact."
Nikita sighed, "She hasn't fucked him the last three times she met with him - and she did today - to get even with Darren."
Michael closed his eye's, "She's under orders to keep Carlson happy - and I'm not going to get involved in her relationship with Darren - and neither are you. Leave it alone, they'll work it out."
Nikita walked out, and slammed the door. Michael scowled. Nikita knew better. He knew better. And they both ignored that little bit of judgment often.
Nikita strode over to comm, furious with Michael, furious with herself for letting it all get to her, and furious with Section, furious with Alexandra for being so impulsive . . . had she herself been so compulsive? No, Nikita thought to herself. She went home and licked her wounds over a carton of Ice cream or went shopping.
"Nikita!" Dante called out to her, as he came out of planning, "I'm down one female operative - and I really really need one bad - can I take Alex?"
Nikita drew in a deep breath, "Why Alex?"
"Because she has a brain in her head - and if this guy doesn't immediately take the bait, she'll reel him in."
"Ask Michael if you can have her," Nikita told him, "It's fine by me."
"Sapphire," Michael's French accented voice came through the cell phone.
"OK," Alexandra replied, looking in her rear view mirror. She was always careful to watch for tails when she left Carlson.
Nikita felt a frown crease her forehead when she found out that Michael offered up a different female cold op. The woman he offered was certainly adequate for the job, but Nikita wondered if Michael had refused Alexandra because of the earlier spat she and Michael had.
Nikita waited until the briefing was over, and Dante and his team were on their way to their target site. She had about two hours before the mission went live. She headed for Michael's office, prepared the chew him out for not following his own advice.
She burst in, without knocking. Michael looked up, his composure calm. Nikita wanted to slap that calm expression from his face.
"Why couldn't you lend out Alex?" Nikita demanded.
"Because I need on her another mission," Michael told her, "We leave in three hours. She wouldn't have been back in time."
Nikita raised an eyebrow, "Tell me about it."
Michael knew what she was thinking, that he was protecting Alexandra. He didn't need to though. Alexandra would tell Nikita to stuff it just as quickly as she would Michael.
"Arms Dealer in Belgrade," Michael told her, "We're posing as a couple that can get them large arms."
Nikita was silent for moment, "When did this come up?"
"Three hours ago," Michael told her, and turned the screen around so she could see it, "You think I'm protecting her."
Nikita sighed, and her tone of voice turned to resigned humor, "Be careful out there. If you don't show up for this wedding, I'll look stupid up there by myself. I'd marry Darren just to spite you."
Michael felt a jolt of jealousy stab into his heart. He knew she was teasing him - It was an attempt to lighten the tension . . . but the whole thought of Nikita with another cold op here . . . Michael didn't want to think about it.
"What did Carlson give us?" Michael asked Alexandra, hours later, when they and the rest of the team was on the plane headed for Belgrade.
"Someone who's buying stuff for a terrorist group out of what used to be Russia," Alexandra told him, "He's sloppy too, apparently. He's probably been picked up already."
Michael had been surprised when she walked in wearing sandals instead of the boots. It took the edge off her usually brazen look.
"I like the sandals by the way," Michael told her, "Nice change from the boots."
Alexandra laughed. She knew Michael hated those boots.
"It's too hot for that much leather," Alexandra told him, "Now I gotta shave my legs everyday."
Michael felt a smile creeping up on his lips. A lot of women considered shaving their legs a chore. Michael had shaved Nikita's legs for her a few times - it was one of those little couple things they did.
"Well, two weeks until the big day, and the traditional bachelor party looms ahead," Alexandra mentioned, "Do you know where you're going?"
Michael shook his head, "Walter and Darren are making the arrangements - undoubtedly someplace I wouldn't go to on my own."
Alexandra laughed, "Probably not."
"Where are you taking Nikita for her bachelorette party?" Michael asked.
"Someplace you probably wouldn't like," Alexandra told him, "We haven't narrowed it down yet though."
Michael shook his head, "How was Carlson?"
Alexandra didn't want to think about Carlson. She'd scrubbed herself until her skin hurt once she'd had a chance for a quick shower.
"Still not happy about being a snitch for Section, still adores me - and he still presumes too much. Nothing new," Alexandra told him, "Today though . . . I didn't feel torn like I have before. I guess I've managed to work out that the way he treated me was just a fluke."
Michael looked over at her, "Is he treating you differently, at all?"
Alexandra sighed, "He still wants me, he still cares . . . he's curious about my personal life. About Darren - Darren being the father of the baby I lost."
Michael nodded, "That's normal enough."
"Michael," Alexandra started, "Someday, he's going to lost interest in me . . . then what happens?"
"If he doesn't cooperate with Section, he'll be canceled," Michael said calmly, "It wasn't Sections decision to green-list him."
"I know- George set this up," Alexandra finished for him, "I just . . . I don't trust him. One of these days, he's going to kill me and separate himself from Section totally."
"I won't let it get that far Alex," Michael told her, "You'll always have a tail with you."
"Section has gotten rid of problem operatives that way before," Alexandra reminded him, "Sent them to their deaths on a mission."
"You're not a problem operative," Michael replied.
"But I get close," Alexandra reminded him, "Even I will wear out my usefulness to Section eventually."
"Alex," Michael said softly, "If they decided to cancel you - I'd make it quick and painless. You always bounce back."
"Promise?" Alexandra asked him.
"Promise," Michael replied.
She smiled, and then rested her head on his shoulder, and closed her eye's to take a nap. Michael couldn't help but remember the time she'd teasingly called him dad.
Kristie looked at her watch. Casey was taking her out on another 'date' tonight. She had implored the MedLab staff earlier in the day, and after a quick battery of x-rays, she now sported a simple and much scaled down soft cast. It still had to stay on for the majority of her day, but she could at least take it off when she soaked in the bath now, and even that had sounded like Heaven to her. She was told to start putting slight weight on the leg as she walked now, and left out the little bit of information that she had been doing just that, for more than two weeks.
She had made her way out of MedLab on her crutches, and just saw Stephen rounding the corner toward his office. Her excitement over getting the cast off made her try to hurry and catch him.
"Hey," she smiled as she caught him at his door, "...check it out, they downscaled the construction site!" She looked down to her leg, extending the new cast for him to see.
"That's great. Should make it a lot easier to dance with...what's his name...oh yeah, Casey," he turned and stepped into his office, closing the door behind him. Kristie was at once furious, and hurt deeply. She watched as her own hand flew to the door handle, then pulled back. Madeline and her
damn head games. She turned and started toward Munitions, the comfort of Walter's affection, and thought to herself that Madeline may just win this round.
Kristie, for once in her life, was tired of fighting.
The date consisted of dinner, at a restuarant Kristie made Casey choose. Tonight was a test of sorts, a test to see what he'd learned the last few evenings she'd spent with him. He was warm and friendly, responsive, all those things that he would need to be to get a targets attention. He might have really turned her head if her heart didn't ache so much.
After dinner, he'd taken her home. He walked her to the door, and unlocked her apartment for her.
"Are you coming in?" Kristie asked him, walking past him with her crutches.
Casey's eyes stared deep into hers. It was an invitation, but something wasn't there. But she was training him, and he hadn't been able to get his mind off of her. It was something about her cocky attitude, she oozed sex appeal without appearing trashy.
"If I'm invited," he said, pulling the door closed behind him.
Kristie smiled, cocking her head to one side and smiling at him, "You could help me get my zipper down."
She turned, and started towards her bedroom. Casey followed her, his mouth going a little dry. She stopped at the foot of her bed, and pulled her hair over one shoulder, and looked back at him.
Casey grasped the zipper and drew it down her back, revealing the lacy straps of her black bra and matching thong panties.
Kristie was just about the shrug the dress of her shoulders, when she felt his lips press against her spine, just above where her bra clasped. His hands gently grasped her shoulders, his mouth slowly moving down. She felt the familiar tightening ache deep inside her, and relaxed a little bit. She could enjoy this . . .
He unclipped her bra, and it slid down her arms with the top of her dress. His mouth moved lower, down the curve of her lower back. His lips came to the edge of the thong panties, and he started to draw them down over her buttocks, then down her legs.
Kristie struggled with herself. She was used to taking control, and she couldn't, not here. Not if she wanted to adequately test him. This would be harder than she thought.
Casey gently turned her around, and pushed her back onto the bed. That was when he shed his own clothing, and rolled on a condom. Kristie made a mental note to talk to him about that. His movements had become frantic and jerky. It could ruin the mood easily. Her eye's took in his nude form. She knew he was in good shape. His cock was already hard, and she couldn't help but compare him to Stephen. Casey came up a little short, not awful, but Kristie had been spoiled with Stephen and she knew it.
He pulled her onto the center of the bed, and started to kiss her lips. Kristie kissed him back, again resisting the urge to take control. She wanted to so bad. She wanted to turn him onto his back and just ride . .
Casey's mouth left hers, and he knelt between her thighs, and parted her nether lips with his fingers, and began to stroke her clit. Kristie felt the coil inside her ache and tighten, but it wasn't enough. This was training though, other women would want this. He should have been going down on her, used his mouth on her breasts, her stomach . . .
Casey had become engrossed in exploring her. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her, stroking her. He found her becoming wet, and guided his cock inside her opening, and thrust forward.
Kristie gasped as the sudden invasion, and she couldn't help but remember that first mission in Germany where she'd had to sleep with a man she'd didn't want. Casey had failed miserably in the foreplay department. Kristie was only lucky in that foreplay wasn't a big deal to her. In fact, she'd just as soon skip it and get on with business. But other women would want it. One more mental note.
Kristie fought the desire to close her eye's and pretend it was someone else over her. Her climax was climbing, building . . . and then she felt the familiar rush, the pleasurable clenching and spasming of muscles deep inside her gore.
"AH!" Casey moaned, letting himself come.
Nikita walked into comm, her eye's scanning as she went. Kristie smiled and nodded at her, Birkhoff was absorbed in something, and Kim handed her an ear piece.
"They're 10 minutes away from the club," Kim told her, "Dante's a little nervous."
Nikita frowned, "Did he say that?"
"It's his voice," Kim told her, "I learn to pick up things in voices . . ."
Nikita nodded, and pulled out a chair, and sat down.
"Kim," Nikita began, "Can you tell me who has pulled this mission file?"
"Sure," Kim said, pushing her chair over to a different terminal, "Why are you asking?"
Nikita took a deep breath, "I just want to see if it changes - later on . . . just in case."
Kim nodded, "You, Dante, Operations, Madeline . . . and it was pulled from a terminal in planning, and the entry erased."
Nikita groaned, and closed her eye's, "No way you can tell me who?"
"It'll take time," Kim told her, "more than the 9 minutes till we go live."
Nikita nodded, "Get me a secure channel to Dante and the team - one that the rest of Section won't be monitoring."
Kim keyed in a few commands, "Go."
"Dante?" Nikita asked.
"Yo!" Dante answered, "Got some new intel for us?"
"Not exactly," Nikita told him, "This is for everyone - so listen carefully. I checked to see who pulled the mission profile - someone pulled it and erased the entry - we're still trying to track down who, but we won't have it by the time you go live. It doesn't mean you've been breached - but it concerns me. Keep your eye's open, just in case."
Nikita and Kim heard a number of sighs and groans. Nikita nodded to Kim to bring them back to the regular channel.
"Put me through to Operations," Nikita told him.
Operations scowled down at the world in general as he listened to Nikita tell him what Kim had found. She'd informed the team, the mission would still go on.
"They should be on their toes regardless," Operations snapped at her, when she'd told him that she had informed the team of the mysterious log in.
Nikita was careful when she chose her tone of voice and in her choice of words, "They are. Forewarned, fore-armed."
Operations only reply was, "Inform me when Kim finds out who erased the entry."
Nikita listened as Dante's team moved into the positions in the club. Brenda, the women that had joined the team at the last minute, positioned herself where she could be readily seen by the target. As Nikita listened, the team discreetly tracked people who came and went, people who seemed to be watching a little more than usual, anything that they deemed necessary.
The target wasn't taking the bait. Nikita couldn't help but think about what Dante had said about Alexandra - if the target wasn't snapping on his own, she'd take steps to get him too . . . or approach him.
"Brenda," Nikita said, "Is there a woman with the target now?"
"Yes," Brenda said, her voice sounding irritated.
"Dante - get someone from the bar to tell her she has a phone call - get her out of there. Brenda - wait five minutes, and approach him when she leaves the bar," Nikita told them.
A few minutes later, the report came in that the woman had left. Five minutes after she left, Brenda approached him.
The target told her to go away.
"When he leaves the bar, you take him then," Nikita sighed, "Don't let him out of your sight - if he goes to the bathroom, someone else goes too."
Nikita saw Madeline approaching out of the corner of her eye, and Nikita switched off her transmitter.
"What's the mission status?" Madeline asked her.
"The target isn't taking the bait," Nikita told her, "We got rid of the woman who was with him, Brenda approached him, he rejected her - so we're going to take him when he leaves the club."
Madeline nodded, "Is Brenda doing everything she can?"
Nikita shrugged, "It sounds like it, until I review the video feed, I won't know - and we can't get visual in the club - too much interference."
Alexandra stepped out of the bathroom, having changed into her outfit for the mission. It was a simple cream linen outfit. Her hair was swept up with little tendrils hanging down, small gold circles in her ears, and a gold chain around her neck with a pendent on it. The pendent had a camera in it. The shoes were little strappy affairs that matched her outfit, with a low heal. A knife was taped just inside her top, her small hand gun and an extra magazine in her purse.
"Un-trashy enough?" Alexandra asked, turning around with her arms up.
"Very nice," Michael said, "Lloyd, you'll coordinate the team in a surrounding pattern while Alexandra and I are in play."
It was an upscale club. There were vents carefully placed over each table in the walls and ceiling so that smoke was sucked away. The clientele all had one thing in common - money. The staff was discreet, which made this particular club an ideal place for the underground markets to meet, eat, drink and discuss business while they enjoyed the privileges that their blood money could buy.
Alexandra was sipping a glass of club soda, and watching a woman a few feet away from them light up a cigarette.
"God, I want a cigarette so bad Michael . . ."
His green eyes met hers, "Think about something else."
"Did you ever smoke?" Alexandra asked him.
"Yes," Michael replied, his voice quiet, as they watched the crowd.
"Do you ever still crave a cigarette?" Alexandra asked him.
"Yes," Michael replied, "But I can't afford to risk being out of breath in the field."
Alexandra sighed, "I guess I didn't smoke long enough to feel that."
"I smoked before Section," Michael told her, "When I was a student."
Alexandra nodded, taking in this little scrap of Michael and his personal life - his past, feeling like she'd just been told something big. She knew that he liked her - he must as often as he bailed her out of trouble - he invited her into his home and his private time with Nikita . . .
Someone at the table next to them scooped something out of a small container with a finger nail and snorted it. Both Alexandra and Michael saw it. Alexandra took a deep steadying breath, and looked away. She missed the feeling of not caring - not worrying - but that was it. The temptation would always be there apparently . . .
Their targets appeared across the club, spotted them at the assigned table, and started across the room.
"Showtime," Alexandra said softly, mostly to herself.
Introductions were made, and they all sat around the table, and made small talk for a few minutes.
Birkhoff was monitoring Michael's team quietly. They were all in position, things sounded like they were going well. The targets were making the deal with Michael and Alexandra, and it was an order that Section could easily fill.
Birkhoff glanced away from the screen for just a moment, maybe 5 seconds at the most, and then looked back a the screen. One of the little green dots that signified the position of one of the cold ops dimmed, and then went down.
"Aaron, you're transmission is fading," Birkhoff said, "Press your transmitter back onto your skin."
Aaron didn't answer. Three more green dots faded out.
"Lloyd?" Birkhoff called, "Lloyd are you there?"
Nothing.
Birkhoff began to sweat.
"Kristie! I need help over here now!" Birkhoff called across comm, "Michael - we have a problem."
Michael looked down at his watch, "I must apologize - we've got to catch a flight back to Paris."
Michael had been sitting with his arm around Alexandra's shoulders - maintaining the role of a husband/wife team. When Aaron hadn't answered, Michael had felt her muscles become a little tense. They were really tense now that no one was answering.
They all stood up, shook hands, and Michael and Alexandra started towards the front door.
"Birkhoff, tell me where they are," Michael said calmly.
"They all dimmed out in the positions they were assigned," Birkhoff said, his voice monotone, obviously caught up in trying to restore a signal, "It could be a satellite failure."
"Then why can Michael and I still receive and send?" Alexandra asked.
"I don't know," Birkhoff replied shortly.
As Michael and Alexandra calmly walked out of the club, they could hear Birkhoff's fingers flying over the keyboard. There was a tell tale clicking sound telling them that someone else at Section had plugged in, probably Kristie.
Michael and Alexandra were outside the club now. They both had their guns out, and had gone into the alley way where Aaron was supposed to be.
As they moved down the alley, they found a body behind the dumpster, but the face was missing. All that remained was the underlying muscle tissue. A dart was protruding from his throat.
"Oh my god," Alexandra breathed, "Benny - Benny's supposed to be in this alley!"
Michael started farther down the alley, and found Benny laying just behind crate - a dart stuck in his throat, his face skinned off.
"Alex," Michael snapped, "Stay close."
Alexandra was only five feet away, but she didn't argue.
They quickly went to each of the positions the team was supposed to be in. They found all the bodies in the same condition. A dart in their throats, their faces skinned off.
"Birkhoff," Michael said, his voice deadly calm, "The team is dead - we need housekeeping to retrieve the bodies and return them to section for examination - do you have the transmission up to scan the van?"
As if on cue, an explosion sounded. Michael jogged to the end of the Alley, and saw the Section van at the end of the block engulfed in flames.
"Michael," Birkhoff's voice snapped, "I'm registering an explosion!"
"The van has been destroyed," Michael replied, his eye's scanning everything.
It was Kristie's voice that cut in next, "This frequency is being tapped guys!"
Michael pulled his transmitter off, as did Alexandra.
"Get one of the darts," Michael ordered her.
Alexandra pulled the decorative scarf out of the suit style top jacket and wrapped the dart in the fabric and dropped it into her purse.
They started down the road, the both of them watching the people around them carefully.
"What now?" Alexandra asked him, "Mandatory refusal? Our mission is essentially completed."
"We get back to Section on our own," Michael told her, "Alive."
They walked for 10 blocks, and hailed a cab. Michael told the driver to take them to the airport. From there, Michael purchased airline tickets for them, and when the attendant was surprised that they didn't have luggage, Michael told her that it had just been stolen a few hours ago. He continued to complain about the inadequacy of the local police if this could just happen to any tourist in the area - to complete the hastily assumed roles they'd taken on.
An hour later, they were flying back home.
"The mission was completed, why go into mandatory refusal?" Operations snapped at Madeline, glaring out over the main floor below from his glass observation deck.
"To return to Section alive," Madeline told answered, "There was no evidence to suggest that whoever did this was still on sight when housekeeping arrived."
Operation's scowl remained in place, "Any report on the autopsies?"
"Toxicology found a substance concentrated in the throat area - where the darts had penetrated. The vocal cords were paralyzed first, which is why they didn't cry out. Then the paralysis spreads rapidly. They were alive when their faces were skinned off. Whoever did this, wanted them to suffer."
Operations sighed, "Why take the team and not Michael and Alexandra."
"We don't know that they haven't been taken - except that their bodies haven't been found," Madeline reminded him.
Operations scowled out at the world of security cameras, digital displays and all that was Section One below him, but remained silent.
Madeline looked down over the world below them, the tightness in her voice betraying her concern, "The substance is something we've been engineering."
Operation's head snapped around, "What?"
Madeline's voice remained calm, if tight, "The substance is one that we've been engineering. What killed the operatives could have come from somewhere else, but I doubt it. The records in biotech have been examined. A small amount of the chemical is missing - and the digital record has been altered. I have Birkhoff working on it."
The intercom chimed, and it was Birkhoff's voice that came through, "Sir - the targets on Michael's mission - they're bodies have been found - in the same condition as the rest of the team in Belgrade."
Operations pulled another cigarette out of his pack, and lit it, "Any contact from Michael?"
"The last thing we heard from Michael was him telling Alexandra to retrieve a dart," Birkhoff told him, "They removed their comm units themselves."
Madeline sighed, "This is someone who likes to play games."
"Why the faces?" Operations demanded.
"A trophy - proof . . . my concern is where they are going to turn up."
The second the needle was pulled from Darren's arm, he was off the hospital bed, and yanking on his shirt.
"You need to take these," the doctor - Marc, told him, holding out a bottle of antibiotics, "Twice a day, every 12 hours - don't miss one doze."
Darren took the bottle of pills, jammed them into his pocket, and was pulling on his T-shirt as he raced out the door.
He headed right for comm. Birkhoff was engrossed in something, Kim was in the process of monitoring a mission. Kristie nodded at him, and kicked out a chair for him.
"Tell me what's happening," Darren said, "I heard this nasty rumor about Michael's mission."
Kristie groaned, "We think Michael and Alexandra went into mandatory refusal. The entire surrounding team was found dead - tranqued in the throat, their faces skinned off completely. They took out the van - and the mission targets, were found dead the same way this morning. Michael and Alexandra have been off line for 12 hours. The mission targets were found a few hours ago. The deal had been completed before they turned up dead though - so no one knows what the hell is really going on."
Darren groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, "Shit."
"The silver headed demon is chain smoking too. Madeline has only gone into the glass palace when she has too - so you know how bad it's gotta be up there," Kristie told him.
Darren drew in a deep breath, "I'm going to find Nikita."
Kristie reached out, and slid her fingers into Darren's, "I'm sure they got away Darren . . ."
He stood up, and started down the main hallways. The whole concept that Alexandra might actually be gone . . . it wasn't something he could bear to think about. His stomach twisted and churned at the thought.
Stephen was just walking out of Walter's munitions station when he saw Darren walking away from Kristie. Kristie spotted Stephen and nodded at him as he started over to her.
"He didn't just find out, did he?" Stephen asked, his voice and words clipped.
Kristie shook her head, "No . . . he'd heard. He's just really hoping for the best. We all are.."
Stephen nodded, "Of course."
He turned and started to walk away.
"Stephen," Kristie called out.
Stephen stopped, but didn't turn around.
"You once told me that not everything is as it appears to be. I hope you know that goes both ways."
Stephen didn't answer, just walked away.
Kristie felt her heart twist in her chest. She never should have gotten attached. Now she was going to pay for that mistake.
Nikita knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep much. She'd probably doze a little, but that would be it. She didn't worry too much when Michael was on a mission - but she did worry when the mission had gone bad, and she didn't know if he was alive or dead.
This was one of those occasions. She'd lit several candles around the room, scented candles - the kind that she knew Michael liked, and then she stretched out on her bed - their bed - to try and rest.
But sleep didn't beckon so quickly - and as always when she had some downtime lately - her mind drifted towards the wedding that was looming in the near future.
Michael better be alive and show up, after all the those damn fittings and invitations I had to send out . . .
The bachelor and bachelorette parties were supposed to happen in a week now. The wedding was a week and a half away. Some of the guests would be arriving in soon. A good friend of Michael's would be one of those people arriving in three days. He had designed her engagement ring apparently. He'd made the wedding bands for them too. Platinum, with diamonds embedded onto the bands, and they'd each chosen an inscription for the inside of each other's ring. Michael's ring would say 'My love always - Nikita.' She had no clue what Michael had inscribed on hers - but she was sure it would be something wonderful.
There was a video camera sitting on a stand in the corner of the room. Michael had brought it home a few days ago - when she'd been out. She could only guess the purpose of it's presence. He was indulging in her desire to experiment. The brief thrill of voyeurism they'd enjoyed seeing Alexandra and Darren indulging in foreplay on Michael's porch had been a surprise for both of them. Nikita knew that Michael could have just pulled video surveillance on her apartment and his - but it wouldn't be the same as actually filming it.
Sometime later, Nikita heard the tell tale sound of a key turning in the lock. Her heart leapt into her chest, and she sat up, her hand instinctively reaching under the pillow for her gun. As he fingers closed around it, she was sure it was Michael, but if she was wrong . . .
It was Michael's frame that filled the bedroom door way a moment later. He leaned on one side, taking in the room bathed in candle light, the soft scent of something like musk floating on the air.
"Nikita . . ." Michael breathed, shedding his jacket as he walked towards her. In one fluid motion his shoulder holster was off and laying on the bedside table. He pulled his shirt from his slacks, and tossed it carelessly on the floor, his slacks, boxers, boots and socks following.
Nikita was about to ask what happened, but the look in his eye's stopped her. Painful longing, he'd seen something he wanted to forget. Nikita felt pain in her heart for him. It had taken Nikita years to understand that Michael was a very emotional person, he just couldn't afford to show it.
He moved onto the bed, pulling the covers back to look at her. He gently started to pull her T-shirt up and off, and tossed it onto the floor next to his clothing, her panties next. His body moved over hers, and they melded together like two perfectly fitted puzzle pieces.
His lips brushed hers, gentle, tasting, savoring. Nikita parted her lips and he delved inside, his tongue stroking hers gently. Help me forget what I saw Nikita . . .
Michael slid one hand underneath her head, cradling her head. The other slid down her side, around the curve of her hip until he could squeeze one firm buttock. He felt her legs wrap around his hips, and his rigid member brush her nether lips, finding her already wet for him.
He pulled himself back, rearing up above her, gently parting her legs a little more, and grasping his own member, he gently pushed inside her, pushing in slowly. There'd been no foreplay, but he needed her so bad, needed her warmth around him, to feel her being entwined with his. Help me chase the darkness away, just for a little while . . .
He heard her gasp, but it wasn't a gasp of pain - it was of pleasure. He let his body relax down onto her, enjoying the feel of her hard nipples and soft breasts pressed into his chest.
He sought out her mouth with his own, his thrusts slow and long, each stroke tantalizing their aroused nerves, ecstasy and oblivion just a few moments away.
He felt Nikita's hand in his hair, her fingers kneading the flesh of his scalp, her other hand on his back, her body clinging to his. Did she knew how much she meant to him? Did she know that she was the only thing that kept him going sometimes? His reason for breathing? Mrs. Sammuelle . . . .
He felt her inner muscles contract around him, and he let his own release come, his body going rigid and bucking in response.
"I love you," Michael murmured to her, lapsing into French.
It was hours later that Nikita woke up. Michael's body was spooned around her, his legs entwined with hers, his face buried in her neck. He stirred slightly, and she knew he'd just woken up. His lips pressed a kiss to her neck.
"What happened?" Nikita asked him. She knew it had to be bad. Michael had chased away many horrors for short periods of time by losing himself in her, but the longing she'd seen in his eyes last night frightened her - it had to be bad. She'd heard the rumors from comm, but she wanted to hear about it from him.
"The team was taken out while Alexandra and I worked the targets. They used some kind of tranque darts that paralyzed their vocal cords, and then the rest of their bodies so they couldn't cry out. Their faces were taken off," Michael told her, "When Alexandra and I had found the team members, the van blew up. We shed our gear and left the scene, but whoever did this got to our targets soon afterwards."
Nikita felt her stomach twist inside her, "Oh my god Michael . . ."
"Someone is sending us a message," Michael whispered, "And we don't know who or why."
Casey was waiting for Kristie when she walked out of MedLab. He quickly pulled her into his arms, pulling them around a deserted corner, his mouth coming down on hers, his kiss frantic, hungry.
"I haven't been able to get you off of my mind," He whispered to her, holding her body close to his.
Kristie fought the urge to groan, "Casey, we need to talk about this."
"What's there to talk about?" Casey asked, "We are great together!"
Kristie tried not to laugh, "The sex was satisfying, but the foreplay was missing something."
Casey was instantly hurt. Kristie knew he would be.
"You came," Casey defended himself.
"I don't go for a lot of foreplay, some women will. Learn it, work on it," Kristie told him, "There's a video and booklet I want you to read."
Casey laughed, "Oh come on, why don't you just show me."
Kristie chuckled, "Because we're working with limited time - and you need to remember that this is training - don't get attached to your targets Casey - and don't get attached to me."
Casey stepped back from her, his expression telling her she'd hurt his feelings. Kristie felt a little bit of regret.
"I think you're just afraid," Casey snapped, "I'll watch the video and the book, but you'll see."
He turned, and walked away.
Kristie groaned.
Alexandra let herself into her apartment, Pepe under her arm. She knew instantly that someone was there. Her hand instinctively went for her gun, but stilled when she saw who it was.
Darren stood on the far side of her apartment, turned in such a way that Alexandra knew he'd been watching the street for her, but had been able to keep himself concealed.
"You told me he couldn't get to you the way I can," Darren said, his voice soft, menacing.
Alexandra closed the door after Pepe trotted in. Pepe raced across the room, seeing Darren. Darren bent down, scooping up the Chihuahua.
Alexandra walked over towards the kitchenette area, reached into the refrigerator, and pulled out a beer. She opened it up, and took a long drink of it, downing several gulps. After that, she reached for her purse.
"Are you going to answer me?" Darren snapped, watching her.
Alexandra pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and put one between her lips, and lit it. She inhaled deeply, "Be specific."
Darren sighed. When had she started smoking again?
"You've managed to avoid sleeping with him a few times, did you even try this time?" Darren demanded, walking towards her.
Alexandra sighed, and took another drag on the cigarette, "You know - when we first started out, after Michael and Nikita whipped our butts into shape from our previous trainer - I forced myself to be cold and indifferent, and not feel anything. Maybe if I went back to that, things would be easier for us."
Darren set Pepe down on the end of her bed as he walked by it, his fingers brushing the rumpled sheet. The sheets would smell like her, her unique elusive scent. As far as Darren knew, She'd never brought Carlson back here. At least Darren had that. What would he do if she did? Burn this whole place down, he instantly thought, of course, she'd kill me if Section didn't cancel me first, but the torment would end . . .
"Tell me you had no other choice," Darren said, his voice still menacing and soft.
Another drag on the cigarette.
"Why the hell do you keep coming back for more Darren? I can't be what you need!" Alexandra snapped at him, "I don't know you anymore, I don't know me! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to let you in to begin with? It scares the hell out of me! I wanted to die when I found out you fucked Kristie! How am I supposed to feel when I hear you discussing your progress with me as your target - with Madeline!?"
Darren started toward her again, his movements graceful and fluid, "Is this about revenge? What infraction are you getting even for? That thing with Kristie when we were drugged? Or for pursuing you when we both wanted me to do it?"
"Why didn't you tell me!?" Alexandra snapped at him.
"Because I knew it would piss you off. Madeline trusts you, I do. But Carlson got to you Alex. He could take you off to exotic places, protect you . . . he took care of you when you lost my baby, and that just fucking killed me. I can't do any of that for you. It kills me that this guy was able to get into your head! Do you love him?"
Alexandra laughed bitterly, "No. I don't even like him very much."
They were both quiet for a few moments. Alexandra took another long drag off the cigarette.
"Did you have a choice?" Darren asked softly, watching her.
Alexandra drew in a ragged breath, "Like you, I'm under orders. I thought what I had to do with him didn't matter to you, because it was work Darren!"
Darren felt like someone had carved his heart out, "It matters Alex, I hate it - because I'm afraid you went to him because you were pissed at me."
Another long drag on the cigarette, and Alexandra focused her gaze on the curl of smoke from the tip, "He asks about you. He doesn't know your name, but he asks about the father. He wants to know if he has competition for my attention."
Darren felt his heart twisting painfully in his chest, "Does he?"
Alexandra closed her eye's, "I don't want to love you. I want to hate you, get you out of my system. I want to not feel betrayed. I want to get the image of you and Kristie out of my head. I don't understand why you are still with me - after all the shit we've put each other through!"
Darren reached out, his fingers stroking her cheek. She pulled away. Darren hesitated, and pulled his hand back.
"I'm still here for the same reasons you are - I love you. Sometimes I want to knock some sense into you - but I love you, more than I thought was possible."
Alexandra took another drag off the cigarette, "I wish we could go back, and not have gotten involved. It would be easier on both of us, if we just stayed apart I think . . ."
Darren suddenly grabbed the cigarette out of her hand, tossed it into the sink, and pulled her roughly against him.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her - the kiss hungry, passionate, demanding. Alexandra struggled against him for a moment, but she couldn't stop herself from being swept up in the whirlpool of sensations and longing for him.
Darren pulled her towards her bed, pressing her down into it. He pinned her body intimately with his own, his hands cradling her face possessivley.
"I'll never let you go," he whispered huskily, "Section may own our lives, but I'll always own your soul."
Before she could answer, his mouth came down on hers, claiming her, branding her. It was then that her phone rang, followed quickly by Darren's cell phone.
The owner of their lives was calling.
Continue on to The Big Event