A True friend is the one who will tell you when you're wrong, and forgive you when you're done venting your spleen on them for it. They listen when you cry over a man they've been telling you get rid of, they laugh with you (nervously, but they laugh) when you've done something stupid to get even, and they don't rub it in when it backfires on you.

They also rescue you when you're in a lot of trouble - figuratively, and literally.

       The test of a true friend . . .

E-Mail Kimberly

        Alexandra opened up the file folder that Michael passed to her, and felt herself pull back from the pictures in front of her.

       The woman had been brutalized. Mutilated, tortured. Her flesh had been laid open like raw meat, blood was splattered everywhere. It looked like some freak thing out of horror flick - something no human could ever really do.

       But not in the world Section and men like Brian Carlson existed in. In that world anything was possible - even something has horrific as this.

       "What the hell is this?" Alexandra demanded, feeling her stomach turn. She felt fear nagging at her in the back of her mind. She could hear Carlson ordering his thugs to gut the banker. She heard the banker's scream echoing in her brain.

       "The work of the man you slept with last night," Michael told her, "I thought you'd decided to sleep alone. The day Darren and Nikita got back, you went to him. Last night, it was Carlson."

       Alexandra closed the file, "I have needs Michael! What the hell do you care? Section never worried about morals before!"

       Michael remained calm, "I care about how it's going to affect you up here," he gestured to his head, "This isn't like you."

       "How do I know you didn't doctor these up?" Alexandra demanded, nodding at the pictures, but not looking at them.

       "Feel free to ask him," Michael told her, "Those are yours. You can keep them."

       Alexandra closed the folder, and pushed them back at him, "No thanks."

       She stood up and headed for the door, then stopped, and looked back at him, "I've had another bug implanted, haven't I?"

       Michael sat back in his chair, "Yes."

       She sighed, "So who is it that doesn't trust me? Madeline? Operations? Are they still concerned I might run? Why aren't they worried I'll turn on Section?"

       "I'm not worried about it Rouge," Michael told her, "No one can come to your rescue if we don't know your in trouble. Carlson is still dangerous. It doesn't matter how much he thinks he loves you. If he has to choose between business and you, what decision will he make?"

       Alexandra sighed, "So who is my constant 24 hour companion?"

       "I'm only monitoring it when you meet Carlson," Michael told her, "We can's spare the staff."

       Alexandra shook her head, "So you heard everything last night . . ."

       Michael didn't reply.

       "I hate this place," She muttered, and walked out of his office.

       Kristie quickened her pace so she could catch up to Stephen. He was about 10 feet in front of her, dressed in dark jeans and cotton button up shirt. His jeans fit snuggly, showing off his firm butt. Kristie held back for a moment. She knew exactly how firm that butt was. She'd had her hands on it, her legs wrapped around many times.

       But not enough for her tastes recently.

       His arm was still in a sling, but he was able to do everything from inside Section One. Two of the people on his team were level four operatives. Stephen was having them lead the missions - the smaller scale ones, and he was providing technical oversight from Section.

       "Hey," she said, reaching his side, "I just heard this nasty rumor that I've been temporarily assigned to Jeremy for a mission."

       "That's correct," Stephen replied, "We've shuffled some people around while Nikita and I heal."        

       He watched her face as they walked. She was always thinking, always evaluating. He couldn't help but wonder at how her mind worked. A sexual creature by nature, one that had been trained to be very dangerous. She could have done valentine work, but she was too good as a cold op to waist on just Valentine missions. She took care of herself, took care of her body, but didn't allow herself to look anything less then feminine. Of course, for Kristie, she could make jeans and T-shirt look feminine.

       She'd pulled her hair back today, pinned it down in some kind of a twist, one tendril curving around her face. Her blue eye's scanned the hallway, then looked back up at him.

       Kristie took a deep breath, "I don't leave for the mission until tomorrow - am I going to see you tonight?"

       Stephen glanced over at her. He wanted to tell her she could see him every night. But this was Section. They had to be discreet, and he didn't know if his two level 4 cold ops would be back in time, "I'll come see you if I have time."

       Kristie swallowed, hard. This felt like a brush off. But she wasn't about to lose her temper here, or call him on it here. It had been busy lately . ..

       She turned down another hallway, and headed for the gym. At the end of this hallway, she saw Alexandra walking out of Michael's office, her stride, her posture, everything screaming defiance. Kristie only had two years on Alexandra in age, but the difference in how they handled things bespoke decades. Kristie was aggressive, she could be defiant, but she chose her battles carefully. In Section, she chose to follow orders 99 of the time. It was a true rarity when she stepped outside of them.

       Alexandra, on the other hand, made up new rules as she went. If Michael told her not to do something, chances were, she'd either do it or come damn close.

       Alexandra had been in Section a year and a half longer than Kristie though. She was up for her level 4 review. Kristie didn't understand the grading criteria at all, but she did know Darren had passed it. He was leading a small mission for Nikita tomorrow morning. Kristie would be surprised if Alexandra made level four. But then again, Kristie wasn't sure Alexandra wanted it.

       "Hey Red!" Kristie called out, "You gonna go shopping with us? For Kim?"

       Alexandra sighed, "I can't - I gotta work up this status report and meet with Madeline and Operations. It could take hours. I'll catch the next one."

       Kristie suspected that it would take all of half an hour, but she didn't say that. No point in pushing something Alexandra didn't want. If she wanted to avoid Kristie at the expense of going out with her other friends, then that was Alexandra's problem.

       "Are you coming to my apartment, or should I wait at yours?" Michael asked Nikita, keeping pace with her as she made her way down the hall on her crutches.

       "I'll have someone drop me off at yours," she told him, "I'll call you when we're almost there. I don't know how late we're gonna be out - the mall is open till 10."

       "Don't rush home," Michael said softly, and glanced around. There were some people around, but not many.

       He pressed a kiss to her forehead, turned and left.

       Nikita felt the kiss clear down to her toes, liquid heat spreading through her veins like molten lava. Michael didn't do affectionate things like that with an audience.

       Kim and Kristie were both making the 'naughty naughty' gesture at her by stroking one finger perpendicular over the other.

        "Ready?" Nikita asked them, laughing as she spoke,  "If you're done ganging up on me, the mall closes in 10 hours."

       It was 11:00 when Michael heard  the tell tale sounds of Nikita walking with her crutches down his hallway.

       He opened the door for her before she had a chance to use her key, and stood back.

       "Alex missed out!" Nikita announced, "Kristie and Kim are crazy! We ate wonderfully delicious junk food we never should have ate, drank perhaps a hair too much at lunch and dinner - Kristie can't steer a wheelchair to save herself by the way!"

       Nikita had made her way over to a chair and flopped down in it, "And I am exhausted!"

       Michael closed and locked his door. He watched her as he walked over. She wore some kind of zip front pants, a bright blue blouse tucked in.  The material of the pants clung to her though, almost like a lovers caress. The blouse he knew he could replace easily. He'd have to spare the slacks. They looked new, and she'd probably have his head if he ruined them so early.

       Michael was quiet, but Nikita was used to that.

       "Did you buy anything?" he asked her, walking over, and squatting down in front of her.

       "Sort-of," Nikita told him, and she licked her lips unconsciously, her eye's looking him over, "I ordered something - but I'm not going to tell you about it - it's better if you see it."

       Nikita watched his face. His green eye's were almost luminous. Of course, she was probably still a little tipsy. They'd elected to take cabs everywhere today. It had been a good plan too.

       Michael slid his hands up her legs, up to her hips, then around her waist. He started to unbutton and unzip her pants, "What color is it?"

       "hhhmmm . . . kind of . . . plum really," she told him, "Not something I'd wear inside Section. But Madeline would like it."

       "Lingerie'," Michael said softly, "If Madeline would like it."

       "Maybe," Nikita said, keeping her eye's on his face.

       "It's late Nikita," Michael said gently, and scooped her up, "We should get some sleep."

       Nikita felt the disappointment all the way down to her toes. She, Kristie and Kim had compared notes on what their sexual partners did well all day long. They'd all gone home horny too. Now Michael wanted to sleep.

       "I'm not really tired Michael," Nikita began. Was she actually going to have to campaign for sex? Weren't men always supposed to be horny?

       "You're still healing," Michael told her, as if she was a child.

       She sighed deeply. He was so damned stubborn. Or was he still pissed at her?

       "Are you still angry at me?" She asked, pressing her lips to neck, "That I want to experiment?"

       "No," Michael said calmly, carrying her into dark bedroom.

       "Then why are you putting me to bed like child?" She demanded angrily.

       It was so dark Nikita couldn't see anything but a shaft of light from the doorway. Michael laid her down in the middle of bed, "I don't think you should be so active tonight, you had a busy day."

       Now he wants to pamper me?!

       He gently took her hand in his, and kissed her palm. Nikita closed her eye's, sighing. This was torture. Even the simplest thing like his lips on the palm of her hand made her want so much more. He was trying to be gentle and tender though.Didn't I make it clear what I wanted the other night?

        Then she felt something cold and hard on her wrist. It startled her, and she jerked her hand to get away, but he had a firm grip on her. Her eye's flew open to see Michael securing a handcuff on her wrist. Michael quickly pulled the other wrist up, and the cuff closed around that wrist as well.

       "What are you doing!?" Nikita demanded, surprised, aroused, and even a little afraid.

       Michael hooked the chain around something at the head of the bed, but it was too dark for Nikita to see. Nikita tried to pull it back from him, but he was stronger, and at the moment, faster. She felt the world around her tilt, anticipation building up.

       "You wanted to play, experiment in bed," Michael spoke, his voice soft, like a caress, "I think we should test the limits a little."

       Nikita felt the tight coil of heat in her stomach build. She saw him reach for something, and a moment later she realized it was a blind fold.

       "Now hold on a second," she started, now alarm bells were going off in her mind, "Handcuffs are one thing -"

       Michael grasped her jaw firmly, "Nikita - I'd never hurt you, unless you asked me to."

       He slipped it on over her eye's, and darkness enfolded her. The next thing she felt was him straddling her hips. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, thick, hard. The fire in her loins spread throughout her body. She felt her sheath clench in anticipation, her inner muscles threatening to make her come before he'd even done much to her.

       She felt his lips brush hers, his tongue stroking along her lips. Firm, but pliable, almost velvet. She knew he was tasting her, enjoying her, tempting her, daring her. Nikita started to kiss him back, and he nipped at her tongue. She gasped, and his teeth grazed her lower lip, nipping as he pulled his mouth from hers, holding her lower lip between his teeth for just a moment as he withdrew. I'm in control, not you, the silent message was sent.

       She felt his hands feeling her body through her cloths, starting at her shoulders, moving down, his intent to feel, explore, please himself first for a change. The effect on Nikita was to arouse her even more. He was possessing her, measuring her, taking stock of what was his. He felt her breasts, cupping, squeezing, moving down her stomach, over her hips, cupping and squeezing her buttocks. He moved his hands around her thighs, then moving to the apex of her thighs, feeling her heat through her slacks.  His hands made their way up to the V of her blouse, and suddenly he yanked it open, ripping the buttons from their holes, buttons flying. Nikita gasped, her body twisting under him, the coil inside her building as the cool air tormented her already sensitive nipples even more.

       He cupped her breasts through her bra, squeezing firmly, his thumbs stroking her nipples through the delicate fabric. His mouth came down on hers again, his kiss firm, hard, tasting her again,  and when she stroked her tongue over his, she pulled it back quickly, just in case he decided to bite her again.

       But he didn't. Not this time.

        His mouth left hers again for a moment, and the felt something narrow and hard pressed against her flesh, moving down her neck to the cleft between her breasts, under her bra.

       She realized what It was immediately - a knife. She heard the fabric rip, the elastic going slack around her, and he roughly tore the shreds off of her. Shivered from the erotic torment, the cool air assaulting her hot flesh.

       His mouth closed over one nipple, his lips rough, suckling painfully hard, his tongue stroking over her nipple, nipping at her flesh. To Michael, the hardened bud in his mouth was now a new toy, something he wanted to play with, torment, until he wore it out.

       His hand squeezed her other breast, the velvet tipped peak over a firm globe of warmth, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, until he heard her gasp. Her moan was one of pleasure, not pain, and he persisted, carefully gauging her reactions

       After a few moments, he lifted his mouth, and she whimpered, feeling the loss instantly.

       Michael was losing himself to this game fast. Madeline had been right.

        "Who owns you?" He demanded, his voice soft, sensuous, but full of domination, power . . .

       "No one!" She gasped out, taunting him.

       Michael chuckled, his hands cupped her breast, squeezing, pressing down on her nipples. He ground his hips into her, knowing she could feel the hard thick length of him through his slacks and her own, pressing against her crotch, their sensitive flesh calling out to each other, this is what you want, this is what you need . . .

       "Who?!" he asked again, his voice firmer, almost menacing.

       "No one!"

       Michael reared back,  and Nikita felt the blunt end of the blade on her stomach, moving down towards her panties and opened slacks.

       Michael yanked the slacks off of her, and cut away her panties. She felt him grab her thighs just above her knees, shoving her legs up, spreading her, exposing her heated flesh. She felt open, vulnerable her knees pressed up and out, and a second later, he brushed his thick hard cock against her sensitive labia. She quivered from deep inside her core, gasping and moaning from a simple touch.

       "Who owns you?!" Michael's husky menacing voice demanded.

        "No one!" Nikita moaned, but her resolve was falling apart.

       He rubbed the head of his cock between her parted labia, lubricating himself, and slid the head just inside her sheath. He thrust into her hard, making her gasp and cry out, in a mixture of pleasure and pain from the sudden invasion, the coil inside her swelling, burning, threatening to consume her.

       "Who owns you?" Michael demanded, grinding his hips against her.

       "Section!" She snarled.

       She heard him growl, and his mouth came down on her breast, suckling hard, the blood rushing in her veins, her heated sensitive flesh crying out to be left alone and yet at the same time for more. It was like being addicted to heroine again, the raging need that consumed her.  He thrust into her again, almost all the way out, and slamming back in deep, pushing her knee's up and out.

       Nikita arched her hips up to meet him, reveling in each thrust. He was her drug, her fix, her reason for breathing, living, dying - for anything.

       His mouth lifted from her breast, and plundered her mouth instead, biting at her lips, her tongue. He felt her body start to tighten around him.

       "Who owns you Nikita?" Michael's voice demanded, soft, firm, husky, angry in her ear.

       Nikita was almost lost to her own sensations at that point. She didn't answer. She almost couldn't. What little shreds of her sanity were left wanted to torment him, deny him, just a little longer . . .

       Michael's hand slipped up to her throat, just barely squeezing, "Who-owns- you?!"

       Nikita felt his hand tighten, felt the pressure on her throat. It was too much. She wanted to scream in ecstasy, beg him for more, though she didn't know how much more she could take . . .

       "You do!" She gasped out.

       "Say it!" He demanded, just barely tightening his grip on her throat, still thrusting into her.

       "You own me!" She gasped.

       "My name! Say it with my name!" he snarled at her.

       "Michael!" she begged, "Michael owns me!"

       Michael mouth came down hard on hers again, his kiss possessing her, claiming her, telling her he won, and he knew it. Her body convulsed and clenched around him painfully. He cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain himself, and his own release came.

       Kristie woke up to the blaring of her alarm clock. She reached over, slammed her hand down on top of the alarm and scowled at her empty bedroom, her empty bed.

       Stephen never called, he wasn't waiting for her when she got home. As she slipped out of bed and headed for the shower, she decided that he better have been awful busy, or she was going to have to take matters into her own hands, and remind him about how things were.

       Within an hour, she was walking through the halls of Section heading for her briefing. Stephen was no where to be seen. She hadn't checked his office though. Kim was scrambling back and forth between two terminals at the comm station, Birkhoff's fingers were flying over another terminal and barking orders to two other people as Kristie walked by.

       Section was definitely busy. Maybe I'm being too hard on him . . .

       Walter was busy setting up for a gear pick up, but he didn't look flustered.

       "Hi Walter," Kristie said, walking by, and pausing for a moment. She had ten more minutes until her briefing started.

       "Wild thing!" Walter greeted her, "You're about to go on your first real hunting trip."

       Kristie frowned, "Uh . . . what?"

       "Black Moon resurfaced - and you'll never guess where," Walter began, "Alton, Illinois of all places."

       Kristie blinked, surprised, "In the US? No way."

       "We got confirmation a little less than an hour ago. They're meeting up - all three divisions of them. Almost too good to be true if you ask me," Walter told her.

       Kristie nodded, "Yeah - so when you say hunting trip - we're gonna go in and hunt them down - we do that all the time."

       "This is gonna be a daylight assault kiddo. Operations has been working with oversight to make it look like an NSA raid. Exposure rate is gonna by high on this one," Walter told her.

       Kristie took a deep breath, "Damn! I can't believe we're risking it then!"

       "Can't pass up an opportunity like this," Walter told her, still pulling out more and more weaponry.

       "I gotta get up there, thanks for the info Walter!" Kristie said, and turned away to head for briefing.

       She knew when she walked in she was going to be working with people she didn't normally work with, but she was really surprised when she walked into briefing.

       The table was full. Ryan and Leo, two cold ops she didn't like to work with ever were sitting at one end of the table with Gina. Alexandra stood against the back wall, her arms crossed over her chest, looking bored and unapproachable. They were all level 3 cold ops, some of them didn't have much more experience here than Kristie.

        Kristie found herself a piece of wall to lean against, and moments later, the briefing began.

       Just as Walter had said, Black Moon was meeting Alton, Illinois, all three factions of it. Section saw this as an opportunity to take them out, once and for all. The NSA would be taking responsibility. Because there would undoubtedly be exposure, everyone was going to be masked.  There were three teams. Two of the teams would surround and attempt to capture the organization while it's meeting was in progress. They expected them to resist, and come out shooting. At that point, they'd take them out, try to keep a few prisoners alive long enough to be brought into Section for questioning, and quickly disappear, while the media had their feeding frenzy on the NSA. The third teams only purpose was to provide containment, in case anyone got passed the first two teams. Operations made it very clear that this mission had to be a success.

       It seemed like a simple assault mission really. Site up your bad guys and kill them.

        They were given 20 minutes to pick up their gear and put on the black on black mission cloths.

       Kristie found herself on the second team. Simon was their comm specialist for this mission. All three teams piled into one transport plane, packing it full, literally. There was not one extra seat available. She saw Alexandra reading a book, a few seats farther up the aisle, Gina shot her little glares every now and then. Leo looked Kristie over a few times, always following it up with a wink. Kristie shrugged. She used to eat men like him up and spit them out. They never got far with her. They didn't have the confidence she liked in men.

       Alton was enjoying the summer travelers trade. Right off a main interstate, trucks stopped there, People traveling to campgrounds or driving across country on their family trips stopped there too. It was a good place for a group like Black Moon to meet up. They'd be written off as tourists.

       Kristie was sitting towards the back of the van, enjoying the adrenaline rush that was slowly building. She grinned to herself, thinking that not even the heroine she'd had to kick compared to adrenaline, not for her at least. With adrenaline, she could think. With heroine, she couldn't, not clearly. She decided Adrenaline was her drug of choice, for sure.

       She sat, thinking through this, when she heard something about new Intel, a new location, on the other side of town. She glanced out the window, and saw the other van go down a different street. Jeremy's voice cut into their comm units, telling them they'd take up the same assigned positions at the new location.

       Kristie kept her eye out the back window, watching the street, the buildings they passed. They were all houses. The sky was dark. Very dark. It was day time too. The clouds were an angry dark color, tinged Yellow almost. Kristie wondered how much trouble she'd get into if she asked Jeremy what their weather report had been. This looked suspiciously like twister weather. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. She wondered if they should abort the mission . . .

       The wind was picking up too. She wondered what Operations would say if they lost half a terrorist unit to a tornado.

       Of course, that would mean half of the Section cold ops might be lost too. Kristie could pick out a few she wouldn't mind seeing sucked up into oblivion.

       The van was pulling to a stop. She yanked her attention back to her task and hand, set her hand on the door handle, and waited for Jeremy's order to go.

       She could hear him asking Simon how many people were inside the target structure. Simon couldn't get a good reading, somewhere between ten and fifteen. The building was cement, they were in the basement.

       Jeremy gave the order for them to move in quickly. Team one took the north and east end. Team two took the south and went side. Team three was to spread out behind the first two teams, and get anything that got through.

       Kristie yanked open the back door, and jumped down, and started to jog across the lawns of a park. The wind tore at them, picking up leaves, small sticks, and debris. There weren't any children in the park, probably because of the weather. She sent up a small prayer of thanks. The only witnesses would be the park grounds staff, obviously checking the swings, slides and everything else in anticipation of the storm. They stopped and stared at them as they ran past them, surrounding the building, but that was it.

       Kristie forced her attention on the building, the threat from within. The third team had to worry about the grounds crew.

       They took their positions, and waited for Jeremy to give the order to rush the building. Kristie listened to more uneasy reports from Simon, and then Jeremy gave the order for Leo and Kristie to rush the door from their side, Ryan and Gina from the other. Something wasn't right. They should have been rushing out for them.

       Leo reached the building first, a good 15 yards from Kristie. He didn't wait for anyone else to get there, and instead yanked the door back, and went rushing in.

       Then suddenly, the world tilted around Kristie. The ground rolled. The building seemed to bulge, fire spewed out from the windows and door.

       Her hand reached up to cover her face, the force of the explosion knocking her back. Her leg burned, it felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker into it, as if to brand her. She couldn't stop the scream that was torn from her throat as her body hurtled back. She slammed into something from behind, and felt something snap in her leg, and she fell to the ground. She blinked, trying desperately to clear the spots from her eyes.

       Gunfire exploded around her. She twisted, trying to sit up, desperately trying to get air into her lungs. She looked down, seeing what was burning her leg so badly. Something had torn through her pants, and embedded itself into her thigh, that same leg was obviously broken.

       She twisted, bringing her weapon up to bare, and saw that it was the grounds crew attacking them from behind. It had been a trap. They'd ran right by the terrorists they were going after.

       Kristie knew she was a sitting duck, just waiting to be taken out, but she was partially obscured by the brush. She started to pick off the terrorists one by one, using the brush as cover.

        Alexandra ran for a group of section cold ops frighteningly out numbered. All three of them were brand spanking new, and certainly easy targets. She fired her rifle as she ran, taking out Black Moon targets at chest level - it was easier to aim that way as she ran.

       She was going to use the brush as concealment so she could take better aim, but as she rushed into it, she tripped on something, and sprawled on the ground just on the other side of the brush.

       "OOOF!" she heard someone gasp.

       Alexandra twisted, bringing her rifle to bare - and found Kristie looking at her, wide eyed.

       "Christ!" Alexandra gasped, "You OK?"

       "Sure!" Kristie said sarcastically, and watched the redhead scramble up again, and take off after now only two remaining brand new cold ops.

       Kristie continued to pick targets off as they came into view, knowing that what she was doing was far more effective than getting someone to start dragging her back to one of the vans. Alexandra disappeared from view a few moments later. Then, Kristie heard Jeremy giving them the order to retreat.

       "I can't retreat!" Kristie barked through her comm unit.

       "Cut her comm unit!" She heard Jeremy order Simon. Suddenly, her comm unit went dead. She felt cold fear seeping into her bones. She pulled her body back into the brush a little more, watching, waiting.

Back in the van . . .

       "Cut her comm unit," Jeremy ordered.

       Alexandra pushed an injured cold op into the van in front of her, "I'll go back for her!"

       "Leave her, we can't wait," Jeremy snapped, "With this weather, and Black Moon still out there, she won't be security risk long!"

       Alexandra had just put one foot up on the step, "You can't just write her off -"

       "Get in the van!" Jeremy ordered.

       Alexandra yanked off her comm unit, threw it in, turned and ran back for the park. She heard Jeremy yell something derogatory at her, but she shut it out. The last thing she heard from them was the squealing tires from the van.

       She moved into the brush, using it as cover as she moved. She knew where she'd seen Kristie last - picking off Black Moon terrorists from a bush. Alexandra had tripped over her at one point. She hoped Kristie was still there. Alexandra reached the end of the bushes, and carefully scanned the park. No one was left standing. A lot of bodies though. The exposure rate was phenomenal. Operations was going to have a heart attack when this hit the evening news.

       Alexandra crept out of the brush, kept her eye's up and moving, "Kristie!"

       Kristie heard someone calling her name. She knew no one was moving now. She'd taken out the last actual twitcher three minutes ago.

        "Here!" Kristie cried out, painfully pulling herself on her stomach out of the brush.

       Alexandra tripped on her again, once again sprawling on the ground, "Ah! Damnit!"

       She rolled to a sitting position though, a turned to Kristie, "How bad are you?"

       Kristie bit out, "My leg is broken, and something is embedded in it, but it's not a bullet!"

       The pain had started to build more and more over the last three minutes. Fear had crept in, making it worse.

        Alexandra glanced around, up at the sky, the debris the wind was blowing around, "I don't think there's anyone left alive in the park but us - but the police are gonna show up soon, we gotta get out of here Kristie. Can you walk if I help you?"

       "I'll manage," Kristie told her, and gritted her teeth.

       Alexandra slung her rifle over her shoulder, and helped Kristie up to her feet, and put her arm around the other woman's waist, pulling Kristie's arm over her shoulders on the same side as her injured leg.

       The first step elicited a gasp and wince of pain from Kristie. Alexandra knew it had to be bad.

       "This is twister weather Alex," Kristie gasped out, "We've gotta get into a basement fast."

       Alexandra nodded, "Yeah, yeah . . . Uh . . . over there - I see houses over there!"

       Alexandra half dragged Kristie along, gritting her own teeth with every gasp and groan that passed Kristie's lips. The wind picked up even more. They were fighting the wind now too.

       They reached the residential street they'd been heading for, and Alexandra dragged Kristie up to a boarding house.

       A sign hung on the door, 'closed for vacation'.

       "This looks like our kind of place Kristie," Alexandra told her, and moved to pull her up the stairs.

       "No!" Kristie hissed, "There might be a storm door around the back, go look."

       Alexandra eased her down on the step, and ran around to the back of the house. Sure enough, a cellar door with a hasp lock over it was in the back.

       She ran around front, and pulled Kristie to her feet. Kristie was about to wrap her arm around Alexandra's shoulders, but the redhead crouched down, and pushed Kristie over her shoulder. Alexandra gasped and groaned, but managed to stand, and start staggering to the back of the house.

       Alexandra stopped a few feet from the door,  drew out her hand gun, and blew the lock off the door. She kicked the door up and back, and looked down into the dark cellar.

       "Just drag me down the steps Alex," Kristie told her, "or let me roll down."

       "You'll break your neck," Alexandra gasped at her, and started down the steps.

       She didn't duck low enough, and slammed part of Kristie's back into the lip of the door that she was just going through. Kristie gasped and hissed. Alexandra squatted down a little, and staggered the rest of the way down the stairs. She turned, pushing the door back, and slammed Kristie's head into the wall.

       "Ow!" Kristie hissed.

       "Sorry!" Alexandra offered, and more carefully moved them into the room.

       Alexandra dropped down to her knees, eased Kristie onto the floor, and scrambled back up the steps to the cellar door, pulled it closed, and started to throw all the bolts. There was  second door at the bottom of the steps, a heavier door, and she closed and threw the bolt closed on that one two.

       Kristie pulled her mag light out, and shined it around the cellar.

        "We scored."

       Alexandra dropped down next to Kristie, and groaned, almost too tired to speak, "Please tell me how this possible could be scoring?!"

        "Look - we've got food!"

       Alexandra looked up and in the direction of Kristie's beam of light. Sure enough, the far wall had a few can's of food, a bottles of various soda's and a bag of chips.

       "It's a bed and breakfast - of course they'd have food down here - but from the looks of what is here . . . they're gonna have to go shopping soon. " Alexandra groaned out, "How long are we gonna be down here? An hour?"

       "Could be an hour, could be a day," Kristie told her, "Look for a radio. One touch down and we could be out of here in an hour - if it drags, and we get multiple touch downs, it could be a few hours."

       Alexandra struggled to her feet, pulled out her own flashlight, and started to scan the room for a radio. She found one quickly, and picked it up, a package of the batteries that sat next to it, and grabbed a bottle of soda off the shelf, and a bag of chips.

       "Lunch is served," Alexandra told her, "I should look at your leg though."

       Kristie had been dreading that. She knew Alexandra had to look at it. She knew whatever was in there might have to come out. She just wasn't looking forward to it.

       "Have at it," Kristie told her, resignation in her voice.

       "You mess with the radio - maybe it will distract you enough so you won't hit me," Alexandra teased her.

       Kristie humphed. She knew better.

       She found the buttons she needed, turned it on, and started to tune it into a station. She found one, just as she felt Alexandra start to probe her leg.

       Kristie gritted her teeth, and tried to hold back the scream she knew was in just behind her tongue.

       "You've got yourself a nasty little chuck of rock here Kristie," Alexandra told her, so softly Kristie almost couldn't hear her, "It's in the meat - the muscle. Not riding any veins or anything, but it's dirty."

       "It's gotta come out, huh?" Kristie said, "Just . . . do it. Ignore me when I scream."

       Alexandra pulled a knife from her boot, "Why don't you take some painkillers first. It can wait half an hour for them to kick in."

       Kristie nodded, and pulled out the little first aid pack in her jacket. She took two pills, opened up the bottle of soda, and swallowed them.

       Alexandra got up, walked over to the shelves, and started to rummage around. She found a larger first aid kit, and stumbled over wooden chair she hadn't seen in time.

       Kristie saw her pick the chair up in the shadows of the light, and swing it at a wall.

       "What the hell is wrong with you!" Kristie gasped.

       Alexandra looked over at her, "I need wood to splint your leg."

       Kristie sighed in relief.

       Alexandra laughed, "You thought I was losing it over a chair!?"

       "I didn't want to be next," Kristie told her, teasing her back.

       Alexandra picked up the other first aid kit box and two pieces of wood, and sat down across from Kristie.

       "I think I found a little battery lamp over there too," Alexandra told her.

       She went back over to the far wall, and came back with a little camp lamp. She flipped it on, and  set it between them.

       They rummaged around in the first aid kit and found more of the supplies they would need. Half an hour after Kristie took the pain killers, they'd set out supplies to tie the splint on with, and Alexandra had a pair of mean looking tweezers in her hand.

       "Ready?" Alexandra asked her.

       "No, but I'm never gonna be," Kristie told her.

       "Just scream real loud," Alexandra told her, "It's better that way."

       Kristie looked away. She felt the first pull, and her leg suddenly burned with unbelievable pain. She howled loudly, clawing at the ground beneath her. A second later, she felt Alexandra yank her leg, then squeeze little where the break was. Kristie screamed again.

       "OK, worst is over, I think," Alexandra told her, "Hold this piece of wood here for me, and that piece there."

       Kristie held the pieces in place with trembling hands, while Alexandra quickly tied the splint in place. Next she squeezed antibiotic ointment into the would she'd pulled the rock from, and bandaged it tightly.

       Kristie rested back against the wall - dizzy and panting.

       Alexandra sat next to her, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the staticky radio. The first funnel cloud had been spotted on the west edge of Alton.

       "Why'd you come back for me?" Kristie asked her.

       Alexandra looked over at the other woman's face, half hidden in the shadows, "I . . . just cause."

       "What happened to no one has any real friend's in Section?" Kristie asked her softly, "I mean - you say that - you think I purposely fucked your man . . ."

       Alexandra sighed, "I'm an idiot Kristie . . ."

       "Yeah, well, tell me something I didn't know. Does this mean you're forgiving me for Darren - we really didn't want to, it was the drug," Kristie told her.

       Alexandra sighed, "It doesn't matter any more Kristie."

       "Yes it does," Kristie argued, "It matters to me."

       Alexandra sighed deeply again, "My head knows you both wouldn't have - my heart still aches . . . I just . . . if you'd come to me and told me . . ."

       "We almost did," Kristie told her, "Darren didn't want to hurt you."

       Alexandra nodded, "OK, you're forgiven."

       "Mean it?" Kristie asked.

       "I came back for your sorry ass, didn't I?" Alexandra asked, humor in her voice.

       "I hear you went after someone named Max once too, with the police breathing down your neck," Kristie told her, "And Michael had to stop you once from rescuing abeyance ops."

       Alexandra sighed, "I'd have left Ryan, Leo or Gina."

       "I just thought maybe you liked defying Jeremy," Kristie teased her.

       "That too - I just didn't want to be getting crushed into 5 million pieces when a twister tosses the plane around like twig."

       Kristie groaned, "Shit - the teams . . . I wonder if they made it off the ground."

       "I threw my comm unit back in," Alexandra told her, "I still have the sub-cutaneous one, but I doubt anyone is listening to it now, and we're underground, under concrete."

       Kristie looked over at her, "You still got that in?"

       "Section stuck another one into me - when I had to start working with Carlson. Michael didn't come right out and tell me, but he didn't lie when I confronted him. I got called into his office, and chewed on for sleeping with Carlson."

       "Again?" Kristie said, "You slept with him again?"

       "Yep," Alexandra said, "I was horny, he was willing . . . so I did it. It isn't the best sex I've had, but it's better than nothing."

       Kristie groaned, "I know what that's like. I've gotten laid once in the last three months, and it was in the infirmary on the jet. I teased Stephen in the truck on the way back from that mission - flashed him - used my T-shirt to bandage him, and then put my coat back on,  groped at him . . . we're on the plane, and he asked me to rebandage his arm. So I followed him back into the infirmary - and I got it bent over the exam table. It was a little fast . . . but I was working on a three month dry spell."

       Alexandra laughed, "I've never had sex in the infirmary. Darren and I have done it in a few places in Section though. Down in the storage area, in the shower in my Section Quarters, while I was in the wheelchair in my section quarters . . ."

       "Stop! I'm jealous. So when was the last time the two of you were together?" Kristie asked her.

       "The afternoon he got back from rescuing Nikita," Alexandra told her, "then I had Carlson the next night. If I'm gonna be Sections whore - I'm at least going to enjoy myself."

       Kristie held her tongue. She thought Carlson was a huge mistake.

       Alexandra laughed, "Silence from Kristie . . . you don't approve of Carlson."

       "I . . . He's a scum bag Alex," Kristie told her, "Granted, a damn fine looking scum bag, but . . ."

       "He's wonderful to me," Alexandra told her, "I know I'm treading on dangerous ground . . . but . . ."

       "You don't have to justify shit to me," Kristie told her, "Just . . . I'm wondering if part of this is raging hormones. Eight weeks ago, you lost a baby."

       Alexandra sighed, "Yeah . . . and he took care of me. He wasn't pissed at all. Its . . . I know that how he is with me is nothing like what he is to the rest of the world . . . I just want to enjoy it a while longer."

       "Darren," Nikita's voice said over the comm unit, "I'm reading a different staff list. Switch to C."

       Darren reached up, and switched to the C channel, knowing Nikita was going to block everyone else from using that channel. They were already in position, laying in wait for the target. It was a simple mission really. An assault and pick up. They'd use tranque bullets, and they had real bullets as a back up.

       "Carol got sick at the last minute," Darren explained, "She was puking her guts up in briefing this morning. I told her to go home, and called in Maria to take her place."

       Nikita's eyes roamed over the list again, "Is she working next to Marc?"

       "They're in position now on the ridge," Darren told her, "Why?"

       "Because they'll distract each other. They can't keep their minds on the mission," Nikita told him, "You're supposed to consult with me over stuff like this Darren!"

       Darren sighed, "They're both good cold ops Nikita - I didn't think it would be a problem - Alex and I worked well together for a while."

       "But rarely right next to each other - and you two were an exception. You'll have to watch them carefully," Nikita told him, "Go back to A."

       Darren switched back to the A channel. He lifted his binoculars to his eye's, and shifted down from the ledge of dirt he was on, and looked for Marc and Maria. What he saw made him nervous. Marc had his hand up the back of Maria's jacket - innocent enough - probably rubbing her back - but it wasn't appropriate for a mission.

       "Everyone pay close attention to the road, and keep you're eyes up for the target, not each other," Darren ordered everyone in general, "They should be here anytime."

       Marc stopped, Darren moved back into his position.

       A few moments later, a car came into view. Darren leaned farther over his ledge, using his binoculars to get a good look.

       Sure enough, their target was in the passenger seat, with only the driver for company.

       Darren brought up his rifle, and started to track the front tire on the driver's side, "Tony - you take out the passenger side front tire, on my count."

       "Ready," Tony replied.

       "Three . . . two . . . One-Fire!"

       Darren could barely discern between his two shots and Tony's. The car careened off the road, sliding into a ditch. Both the driver and the passenger bailed out, and more shots were fired. Darren and Tony didn't, because they were loaded with bullets for the tires. Everyone else was supposed to have tranques.

       Both targets fell in a moment.

       "Everyone hold positions," Darren ordered, and started to slide down his little hill. There was no reason to expose everyone else right off the bat.

       He got within ten feet, and knew something was horribly wrong. Both men had bullet holes in them, besides trangues. He felt his blood run cold.

       He scrambled over the rocks, and felt for a pulse on both men. One was dead, their primary target. The driver was alive - for the moment.

       "Bring the van around now!" Darren ordered, "Everyone load up! We need to get back to the plane fast!"

       Tony was by his side a moment later. Darren heard him groan.

       "Who the hell was shooting bullets besides us?"

       Darren sighed, "No one was supposed to - you didn't fire, did you?"

       "Me? No way. I only spent the two rounds on the tire."

       Darren started to drag the still live body out from the car, "This guy better live."

       Everyone had gathered around, shocked, worried.

       "Get the other body," Darren ordered, "Everyone in fast!"

       Someone pushed the dead target into the back cage, and a moment later they were all speeding down the road.

       "Everyone check their weapon's now, who has live bullets?"

       Tony watched as people started to check. He knew Darren was watching too, but there were too many people to see all of them.

       No one answered up.

       "Walter does an inventory," Darren reminded them.

       No one answered.

       Darren sighed, and looked over at Tony. Tony's face was stern. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. He'd seen something.

       Darren waited until they'd pulled up into the belly of the plane. He sent the two cold ops in the back, Greg and Dan, with the one remaining live driver up to the infirmary.

        "Everyone else gets out one by one," Darren told them.

       He stood by the door, "Tony, you first. Hand over your weapon."

       Tony handed it to him. Darren pulled the magazine, and turned it, checking the rounds, "Only two. See you upstairs."

       Marc sighed deeply. Darren didn't miss it.

       The next person came, then the next, then the next . . . When it was Marcs turn, Darren pulled out a magazine that was full of darts - too full.

       "Didn't fire one shot? Let me see your other magazine," Darren ordered.

       Marc glared at him, and handed it over.

       "22 shots gone . . ." Darren sighed, and handed him the rifle, and the trangue magazine back, "You can go."

       He continued to check everyone else's magazine. No one else had made the mistake. But many of them were surly.

       It wasn't the team members that were on Nikita's team that were surly. It was people on other teams. Most of which Darren had never, or rarely worked with.

       Darren walked up to the front of the plane, sat down, and let the pilot know they could take off. He got on the comm with Nikita.

       "We have one live target - the driver, for the moment, the primary target didn't make it," Darren reported, "We're on our way back with the live driver."

       Nikita's voice had an edge to it, "What happened to the primary target?!"

       "He was shot with a bullet," Darren replied, "There was a mix up with magazines."

       "Return to Base," Nikita replied.

       Tony waited until Darren had disconnected, "Why didn't you tell her Marc screwed up - I saw him switch the magazines in the van!"

       Darren sighed, "I'm responsible - no matter what. I will tell her. It will come out in the weapons check in at any rate. I had to check you - I hope you understand."

       Tony nodded, "Forget about it. I know you gotta be the same with everyone."

       Darren sighed, "Damn . . . my first mission I lead, and I kill off the target . . . that's not a good rung for the career ladder."

       Tony sighed, "They won't cancel you over that."

       "No, I'll just get another ass chewing. I don't have much ass left since my last ass chewing though. They have compounding effect."

       Michael was still dressed in mission gear. He was walking past comm on his way to Walter's station - but all the activity got his attention.

       Nikita was bent over a terminal, taking orders from Gayle. Some of the other comm techs were running back and forth frantically. Cold ops stood around, gazing up at a screen.

       "What's happening?" Michael asked, his voice calm.

       One of the cold ops looked over at him briefly, and said, "Jeremy's three teams that went to the midwest after Black Moon were ambushed, about 10 minutes ago. Jeremy gave the abort order. A tornado's been spotted on the edge of town, they can't take off, and they've got operatives dead in the park, and two missing."

       "Missing?" Michael asked calmly.

       "Kristie was hit, couldn't make it back to the van. Alexandra went after her. Alexandra has some other tracker on her that just went out a few minutes ago," the cold op told him.

       "I just lost a whole van!" Nikita called over to Gayle, "How can I lose a whole can at once?!"

       Gayle jumped up from her chair, and pushed Nikita back out of the way, "They're really not reading . . . I don't know why . . ."

       "Have they gone underground?" Michael asked, pushing his way through the small crowd, "Almost every building in that area is going to have an underground cellar - because of the tornado's."

       Gayle glanced up at him, "I can't tell, there is too much interference because of the weather!"

       Nikita looked over at him, her blue eye's wide, "This weather pattern is huge. It's spread all over the lower half of the state. We can't get anyone in to contain this, we can't get anyone out . . . I can't get Jeremy or anyone on audio . . ."

       Nikita saw Darren move in, just behind Michael. His eyes betrayed the tension he felt. Nikita knew someone had told him already what had been going on.

       Alexandra had spent the last half an hour rummaging around to see what other supplies were in the cellar. What little information they got off the radio told them that there had been 7 different funnel clouds spotted. Kristie told her that was an unusually large amount. There were reports of touch downs from all directions. One radio station had been knocked off the air.

       It looked like they were going to be spending at least the night in the cellar.

       She found some bedding, and made up a bed of sorts and helped Kristie onto it. Then she started to work on something more substantial than a bag of chips for dinner.

        "Cold ravioli," Alexandra announced, "It aint exactly gourmet . . . but it will have to do."

       Kristie took the opened can and the spoon, "Thanks."

       Alexandra put a bottled water on the floor in front of her, and pulled the battery lamp between them again, "How many of these have you sat through?"

       "One," Kristie told her, "I was just a kid - maybe 7. My mother and I were visiting someone . . . I think they were her relatives. I don't remember much. We used to get a lot of fall out weather from twisters in North Carolina though. Nothing like what you get in them."

       Alexandra nodded, and started into her cold ravioli, "We'd get an occasional earthquake in Seattle. Two actually eruptions when I was just barely in grade school. We huddled under desks, stood in the doorframe's . . . I keep thinking that if the house gets blown off - what happens to the cement floor above us?"

       "That's what they find left," Kristie told her, "Unless something comes through it. If we get a direct hit from the tornado . . ."

       Alexandra stopped eating, "What?"

       Kristie looked over at her, "Depending on how strong it is - we get the house ripped off the top, or worse case, we'd be killed. I've seen hurricanes - where a board can punch through cement - hurricanes and tornado's carry similar wind power."

       They both fell silent, and listened to the wind howling outside. Something crashed against the side of the house. They'd heard glass breaking more than once. But it didn't sound like the house was coming down. Not yet at least.

       "How long have we been down here?" Kristie asked her.

       Alexandra checked her watch, "Four hours. I'm still not getting a signal, which doesn't surprise me - not in here with that wind."

       She picked up her ravioli and started to eat again - though slower this time.

       "Who has Pepe?" Kristie asked her.

       "I left him with Walter. It's kind of an understood thing that if anything happens to me, Darren, Michael and Nikita share him . . . I know that Darren would probably end up with him though."

       The roaring outside got louder. The radio was so staticky now they couldn't hear anything. Kristie turned it off.

       "You done?" Kristie asked Alexandra, and picked up the small camp light.

       "Yeah," Alexandra told her, tossing the can into a garbage bag she found, "Go ahead and turn it off."

       Kristie slid the button down, and they were plunged in darkness. They sat quietly, listening to the wind, the house groaning.

       The sound of wood starting to crack and splinter made them both flinch. They unconsciously moved a little closer together.

       "I bet Section is just shitting gold bricks right now," Alexandra said after a few minutes, "With the mission botched - the exposure . . ."

       Kristie took a deep breath, "Will they come back for us?"

       Alexandra swallowed, "Section? No. A few of them might do it themselves . . . they'd at least have to send a cleaning crew - not that they'd be able to locate us down here . . ."

       Crack, Pop, Rip! the sounds coming from above made them tense up. A horrible groaning sound and more splintering of wood followed.

       "How close would it have to be, for the house to come apart?"

       Kristie swallowed, "Pretty close."

       The felt the wall tremble behind them.

       "Very close."

       Something big slammed hard into the structure off to the left, where they'd come in, making the whole wall shake, the scream of metal twisting, timbers snapping filling their ears.

        Kristie closed her eye's, and took a deep breath, thinking it may be her last. Should she pray? She felt Alexandra's fingers slide into her own, squeezing firmly.

       "Hail Mary, full of grace . . ."

       It was Alexandra's voice Kristie heard, the first few words. More noise drowned out the rest for moment.

       " . . .among women . . . .god . . . . us sinners . . . . now and  . . . hour of our death . . . ."

       Kristie had her eye's squeezed tightly shut, not that she'd be able to see much anyhow. She felt a tear slip past her eyelid, slide down her cheek. She never expected to die an old woman, not in Section. But she never thought it would be like this . . .

       Something hard crashed above their heads, onto the cement ceiling, the wind howling so bad now that neither one of them had any doubt that they were going to die.

        Then the sound changed, the rumbling slowed. Kristie loosened her grip on Alexandra's hand, just a little.

       Another loud crash sounded, and something hit the second wood door that Alexandra bolted. Alexandra leaped up, and Kristie felt Alexandra grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her back as far away from the door as possible . . .

       "Keep me posted," Operations barked at the speaker phone, before hitting the release button.  Darren as still dressed in his mission gear. Madeline had just preceded Darren into the room.

       "Luckily, we got what we needed from the driver," Madeline said calmly, "The video feed, the bullet hole locations and penetration variance confirmed what Walter's inventory already told us. Marc used the wrong magazine. Your report states that he mistakenly used the wrong magazine."

       "I don't think he did it on purpose," Darren said, hoping he sounded calm, and not as afraid as he was.

       "You didn't consult with Nikita on replacing Carol," Madeline continued, "Why is that?"

       Darren took a deep breath, "It was a last minute decision. Carol came to the briefing - prepared to go on the mission. Right after, she started to heave into the garbage can. She told me she'd been ill all night. I replaced her with Maria, because Maria was in Section, and available at the last minute. I felt that Carol would be a liability if she was heaving every 10 minutes in the field."

       "Did you know that Marc and Maria were involved?" Madeline asked him.

       "I've heard rumors," Darren said, "It wasn't a consideration."

       "It should have been," Operations barked at him, "It almost cost us the mission."

       "Was it not a consideration because it's never been a problem for you?" Madeline asked, "When you've worked with Alexandra - or Kristie."

       Darren almost flinched. It wasn't that she'd brought up that it wasn't a problem for him with them - it was that she included Kristie into it. It implied that he and Kristie were more than friends.

       "Exactly," Darren answered, "Neither Marc nor Maria are new cold ops. I got over that issue myself early on."

       "Consider this a lesson learned. You didn't know your team well enough. It's a growing pain everyone who is a new team leader has to face. You should have used Nikita as a reference," Operations told him, his tone condescending.

       The air was depressive when Tony walked onto the central floor. He knew what was going on. A mission had gone bad, the exposure rate was much higher than they'd anticipated, and over half the team was missing.

       He'd gone down to the Cafeteria to get drink orders for everyone working comm, and the other cold ops standing by . . . watching, waiting, praying . . .

       "Kim," Tony said softly, handing her a bottled water.

       Darren had just walked up behind them, and Tony handed him a coke. He'd seen Darren, still clad in his mission gear, reporting to Operations and Madeline. He knew he'd be out soon.

       "Got any ass left?" Tony asked him.

       "It wasn't as bad as I thought. Mistake acknowledged, chalk it up to a lesson learned and don't do it again. I should have consulted Nikita," Darren sighed, "Tell me they're finding them."

       Kim shook her head, "The interference is dying down, but slowly. I can't even hazard a guess about when I'll get through."

       Birkhoff looked over from where he was sitting, "I've got a weather satellite - I'm gonna put the images up on screen 3."

       All eye's went up to a screen hanging from the ceiling over comm. A thick, heavy weather pattern hung over the area the team had been in.

       "That isn't so comforting looking," Kim said softly, and she glanced up at Darren, "I'm guessing she and Kristie found themselves the nearest storm cellar to sit this thing out."

       Darren took a deep breath, "That's what I'm thinking . . . hoping."

       Nikita was sitting on a chair someone had pulled out of her. She was listening to relay between Dante and Gayle, who was on site in the van. That mission was going well at least

       Darren looked over at her, she gave him a reassuring smile.

       "I'm gonna go change and grab a shower," Darren said softly, "Come get me if anything comes up?"

       Tony nodded, and watched the Hispanic mean disappear down the hall.

       "He's freaking out," Kim said softly, looking up at Tony, "No matter what the problems are between him and Alex - he loves her, and he and Kristie are good friends."

       Tony nodded, and glanced up at the glassed in observation deck, "I'm surprised Operations hasn't sent us all out on something just to be a prick."

       Kim laughed softly, "The next mission is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning. You're on it. I'm doing onsite comm support."

       "Darren's team?" Tony asked.

       Kim nodded, "How'd he do?"

       "He did fine," Tony said, "He's got a team full of people that don't want to accept his authority."

       "He better get good and ready to remind them then," Kim said softly, "Otherwise it's gonna get worse."

       Stephen started towards comm then, his arm still in a sling. Kim leaned forward, to look at him, "how's your arm?"

       "Sore - any news?" He asked.

       Kim shook her head.

       "I can't even get anything through a DOD satellite," Birkhoff complained.

       Michael had walked over, from the far side of the comm station, Madeline was walking with him.

       "What's the status of the team in Alton?" Madeline asked Birkhoff.

       Kim started to work on something else, scooting over to another terminal. She had sims to run for Darren's next mission. She knew he's ask for them, and he had a long night of planning ahead of him.

       Michael felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, and looked at the small screen, "It's Alexandra's voice mail - probably Carlson."

       He punched in a few numbers, and listened to it. Madeline watched his face. She didn't see any reaction, she didn't expect to. He hung up, and dialed another number. Madeline listed to him speak to someone.

       "I'm Michael . . .She's not available . . . that she's not available . . .you can tell me . . .  Kitsen . . . you don't need to make that decision . . . do you have something for us Mr. Carlson? . . . She's not available . . . no . . ."

       Michael pulled the phone away from his ear, and flipped it closed, turning it off. Carlson had obviously hung up on him.

       "He's calling her out of personal interest," Madeline commented softly.

       "Yes," Michael replied.

       "You have to allow for a certain amount of that. It's that bond that we're using to hold him," Madeline told him, "Even if you don't like him."

       Michael's reply was calm, flat, "My personal feelings for Carlson are not a consideration."

       Madeline knew better. She knew Michael had researched some photographs Section had of Carlson's old girlfriend - a woman they'd tried to get to turn him over. He killed her before it was possible for Section to reach him.

       "Keep me posted on Carlson, and the missing team," Madeline said gently, and turned away, heading towards her office.

       The wind died down. So much that they had to strain to hear it. Now, all they could hear was rain. Lots of rain. It was hitting something metal - and it was loud.

       Alexandra felt around her belt for her flashlight. She'd moved it earlier, so she wasn't laying on it. She could hear Kristie's even breathing next to her. She was asleep, and for that, Alexandra was glad. It has been a hellish night.

       Alexandra slid the switch up, and shined the light on the door. The second door was splintered, something metal sticking through it, on the top. She quietly stood up, and walked over to get a closer look. Upon closer inspection, Alexandra couldn't tell what it was. Silver metal, twisted and stripped off something. It surprised her that it had gotten through the door at all. But nothing was normal with Twisters and Hurricanes. Through the splintered hole in the door, she could see that it was long and rather slender. The outer door was gone, and something else was over it, something black and lumpy.

       "What is it?" Kristie's voice asked.

       Alexandra looked back at her, "I was trying not to wake you."

       "I'm a light sleeper," Kristie told her.

       "I have no clue what it was," Alexandra told her, and pushed on it gingerly, "But from what I can see through this hole, it's not that big. But the outside door is gone, and something is over it."

       Alexandra put the little mag light in her mouth, and started to unbolt the door. It swung open easily enough, the metal piece wobbling and clattering it's far end against the wall.

       "That looks like a bumper," Kristie told her.

       Alexandra nodded, and started to bend it up, "And this thing blocking our outside door - looks like a car - the underside of one at least."

       Alexandra squirmed past the bumper, and went up the steps, to the car. She couldn't see any light on either side of the opening. When she shined her light all along  the edges of the outer door, she could see wood and debris, and no daylight. The vehicle was buried.

       Cold fear spread through her veins. There was one can of ravioli left - a little bit of water. Kristie had been running a temp for hours. They were under cement, and she didn't know if Section could find them, or even come back for them. Logic told her that if they did, it would be housekeeping.

       That was not the part of Section she wanted a rescue from. It wouldn't be a rescue. Though she knew it was futile, she braced her feet, and pushed on the car. Nothing, it didn't even move a little. Alexandra stopped, and stood there for a moment. She wasn't going to panic. Not in front of Kristie. There was another possible way out. There was a small three by three foot square cut in the ceiling above where they'd slept. It might have been another door.

       Kristie knew it was dire. She knew how little food was left, and she knew Alexandra had just tried to push the car - to no avail.

       "I'm gonna try this door here," Alexandra told her, dragging over something to stand on.

       She climbed on top of a storage chest, and positioned her hands, and pushed. Kristie watched as the cement square shifted, and Alexandra pushed with her legs, straining.

       She stopped after a moment, "I need more to stand on . . ."

       Kristie watched as she dragged over two pallets, stacked them, then put the chest back on top of them. She climbed on top, positioned her feet and her hands, and pushed up.

       Kristie watched, holding her breath. Alexandra strained, her whole body trembled with exertion. The cement block scraped and shifted up, and Alexandra was able to shove it off to the side.

       "Yes!" Alexandra gasped, breathing hard.

       She jumped down, and found another box to put on top of the chest. Kristie watched her climb up her precarious tower, flash light in her mouth, to have a look.

       Alexandra knew she was going to look into a wrecked house.

       But she was totally unprepared for what she saw.

       The only reason there wasn't something pinning down the cement block was because it was directly under a heavy duty work table of sorts. Debris and wood covered the opening on the sides of the table. Upon further searching, Alexandra realized that the table had huge bolts into the cement.

       "How's it look?" Kristie called out to her.

       Alexandra bit her lip. It looked like they were in a lot of trouble.

       "I've gotta start digging us out," Alexandra called down to her, "You got enough blankets and water for the moment?"

       "Yeah," Kristie called back to her, "Be careful Alex."

       "Sure thing," Alexandra called back to her, and started to pull on wood and debris. She had no idea how much she had to dig through, but she had to get to it. Kristie's fever was weighing heavy on her mind.

       "I've got the van!" Birkhoff yelled out loud, "Both of them!"

       Darren heard the yell from where he sat in planning. He'd been working on his next mission all night. It had taken all night because his thoughts strayed to Alex, Kristie and the missing team often. He had a screen playing back weather patterns the whole time, and another playing back news channels in his target area, in Mexico.

       He stood up, and walked out to comm.

       The other comm techs walked over, Operations appeared on the floor, instead of just watching from his glass tower. Michael walked up, Nikita started hopping in on her crutches from another hallway.

       "Simon," Birkhoff enunciated his words  carefully, "Can you hear me?"

       The reply was staticky, but clear enough to understand, "Yes. The storm is lifting. Both vans are here. We're at the airport, in an underground storage bunker. The plane is destroyed. It was blown off the runway."

       Operations picked up a comm unit, "Jeremy, I want answers . . ."

       Darren forced himself to keep a calm face on. He saw Stephen hanging back with Michael and Nikita. They'd been taken from behind, Black Moon had been waiting for them. Kristie and several other cold ops were lost in the field. Alexandra had run back against orders. Jeremy said that she'd shed her comm gear, so he thought she'd chosen to run, and not go back for Kristie at all.

       A ripple of apprehension zipped through the small crowd.

       "No way," Nikita snapped, "Not Alex."

       Operations set down the comm unit, "She was emotionally involved with Carlson."

       "She was sleeping with him because we told her too," Michael pointed out, "Alexandra went back for Kristie. It would be psychologically unacceptable to her to leave someone behind in the field, alive, if they could be saved."

       "Keep scanning for her," Operations told Birkhoff, "Cancel all her access codes."

       Darren had his jaw lock set. Alexandra would never run. But he was in a lot of trouble as it was, and Michael and Nikita had stood up for her.

       Alexandra checked her watch. She'd allowed herself three hours rest, only because she couldn't go on anymore. She sat up, and felt Kristie's forehead. It was hot. Too hot.

       Alexandra shook the blondes shoulder to wake her. She needed to drink more water. But Kristie didn't wake up. Alexandra felt her heart twist in her chest. She felt around her neck for a pulse. She found one, but her skin was hot to the touch.

       Alexandra pulled her up into a sitting position, and shook her hard. Kristie murmured something about Whisky, then Stephen. She was delirious.

       Alexandra groaned. She needed to dig more, needed to get out, get Kristie some help. So she went back up into the hole in the ceiling, to dig more.

       It was dark when she finally broke through, to the outside world. She crawled out from under a plank of wood, and sprawled on the  ground, not caring that she lay on painful sharp shards of cement, glass and wood. She breathed deeply - the air smelled so . . . fresh!

        Kristie, laying down below and unconscious came to mind, and she pulled herself to her feet. How many hours had been digging? It had been three days since they'd sought shelter below. Two days she'd been digging . . .

       She staggered to her feet, and unzipped her jacket. Her handgun was still in her shoulder holster. She hadn't wanted to risk getting  stuck with her rifle on her back. As she made it out to the edge of the street, she saw a torch at burning at the end of the block, two jeeps, and several men . . . they looked like the army . . .though as she started towards them, she realized they would have to be the national guard. The power was still down obviously, and the whole area had to be ripe for looting.

       "Hey!" She called out, waving her arm as she approached. She knew she was walking up on them from a deserted street. She didn't want to get shot.

       They all turned, startled, surprised. No one pointed their weapons at her though. This bunch was relaxed. They weren't expecting any trouble.

       "I need help!" She called out, staggering towards them, "My friend - is stuck in the cellar in -"

       She tripped over something, and sprawled on the ground.

       " - in that house!" She finished, and struggled to get back to her feet.

       Two of them reached her, "Sit still miss. Tell us where she is."

       Alexandra looked up at him, "I tripped - I'm fine."

       She started to get up, and two strong hands helped her get to her feet. She felt the tension in them immediately. It was her attire that got their attention.

       "Alexandra Murtagh," She said, "NSA - my team was here when the tornado hit. Our target was waiting for us. Most of the team managed to get back to transport safely. My partner was injured, and I couldn't get back - I went after her, and we went down into the cellar in that house down there - it used to be a bed and breakfast . . ."

       Alexandra drew in a deep breath, "She's got a flesh wound that's infected, her leg is broken, she's got a raging infection, fever, and she's unconscious. We haven't eaten or drank any fluids in two days. She is going to die if you can't help me get her out of there soon!"

       One of them yanked his radio from his belt, "Sergeant Conner, we got people trapped in a cellar in one of the houses on Clark street. She's wounded and ill. We need gear to pull the rubble off the cellar door. Send for two medics, water and more food packs - and do it fast."

       Alexandra sighed in relief.

       "I need ID Miss Murtagh," He said, settling his radio back onto his belt, "Is there any chance your target is still in the area?"

       Alexandra nodded, "No. They got away. Id's inside my coat - and right next to my holster - so I'll reach slowly."

       He nodded, and they both watched her, but calmly. They weren't doubting her at this point. There was no reason for her to be here otherwise.

        She handed him the section Id that they carried, Identifying them as NSA, just in case. He examined it, and handed it back to her.

       "I'm Captain Conner - this is private Sim's," he told her, "You got someone you want us to contact Ms. Murtagh?"

       "Yeah," She said, "You got a phone - or just the radio?"

       "We can have someone at our base make a call for you," He told her.

       She gave him the phone number that Section had set up for this kind of thing.

       He pulled his radio from his belt again, "Jackson - bring the water, one jeep and get down here. Leave two men at the corner, we're gonna start digging the victims out by hand while we're waiting."

       Alexandra started back down the street towards the house.

       She showed them about here the cellar entrance had been. They could just barely see the roof of a pickup truck on it's side.

       "Jackson," Capt Conner said, "Take Ms. Murtagh here, set her in the jeep, give her what ever water we have, see if she'd got any injuries we can treat."

       Alexandra was about to argue, but she realized immediately that it was foolish. Conner was used to being listened to - and he was doing exactly what he should be. She was going get in their way at this point.

       "Mam?" Jackson offered her a bottled water.

       "Alex," She told him, "Please."

       "Alex," he said, taking in her gear, "pardon me asking, but where the hell did you come from?"

       She laughed a little, "Hell I think . . . I'm Nsa, my team converged on a target - but the target had been warned. Everything went bad, the weather hit . . . most of my team was able to get back to their transport. I stayed with my partner - because I knew she'd be easy pickin's since she was wounded."

       "No chance these folks you were after are still hanging around?" He asked her.

       "None," she told him, "I'm OK, I just need water . . .

       He gingerly peeled back her jacket, "That's an awful lot of read on a white shirt."

       Alexandra looked down. She knew she'd gouged her side pretty good, right through her jacket, but she hadn't thought to check it. She'd just yanked the offending piece of wood out, and kept digging.

       Alexandra shrugged her jacket off, and her shoulder holster, and peeled her tank top up for him to examine.

       "Nice puncture would here," Jackson said, "Dirty too. But you're not gushing, so I'm gonna let the medics have it."

       She nodded, and left her coat off.

       "Its awful warm  . . . isn't it kinda early for this weather here?"

       "We've got an electrical storm brewing," He told her, "You OK here for a few minutes? I'm gonna go start digging."

       She nodded, and watched him trot over to where the rest of them were pulling debris off the truck. She heard another truck coming down the road, a dozen or so people in the back. It was one of the first times she'd been glad she'd thought to wear a sports bra under her T-shirt. Otherwise, she'd be attracting even more attention.

       Two mean carrying what she knew were medical supply boxes trotted over in her direction, the rest of the men started towards the house, and swarmed over the debris.

       Alexandra sat as still as she could while they checked her over, finding more cuts that she'd ignored. They hung an Iv bag on the roll bar, and started to clean up the cuts, and steri strip them closed, and started to shove food at her, hassling her to eat as they worked.

       Within half an hour, they had the truck unburied, and were running ropes around it and under it to pull it back from the hole. Alexandra watched in awe at how quickly they'd worked. Section moved fast - but there was something about these men. She knew it was because they were rescuing, not destroying, and because they liked what they were doing. Section's staff, for the most part, didn't have that.

       A few minutes later, the medics were down in the cellar, to check out Kristie before they moved her. Within ten minutes they were carrying her out on a backboard, and sliding her into the truck. Alexandra was helped over to the same truck.

       "We gotta take her into a the field hospital Ms. Murtagh," the medic told her.

       "I don't want her to stand out - just in case - can you get her gear off of her, stuff it in a bag?" Alexandra asked, "I'm hoping to not see my face in a newspaper, or hers."

       They agreed, managed to find a ruck sack, divested Kristie of her weapons, leaving just her pants and shirt on. Alexandra stuffed her gear into the same back, but kept her gun just inside the top of the zipper pouch.

       An hour later, Capt Conner found them in the field hospital. Alexandra was awake, a second bag of solution being drained into her via IV. Kristie was still out cold, but she had antibiotics running into her veins through an IV, and fluids too.

       Capt Conner walked over to her, with two plates of food in hand, "Mind if I feed and join you for a meal?"

       Alexandra patted the end of the cott, "By all means."

       Alexandra dug into her food quickly. Conner watched, not surprised that she was still hungry. He ate more slowly, and waited until she was done eating to talk to her.

       "I was a little surprised to hear that Nsa had business in Alton," He started.

       "I was a little surprised myself," she told him, "But I can't tell you anything else."

       "It wasn't a militia group was it?" he asked her, "I'd hate to think that was starting here too . . ."

       She shook her head, "They weren't even us citizens."

       He shook his head, "All the way into Alton . . . We got a hold of your people. They're sending a chopper and a medic team for you and your partner. Should be here in a few hours."

       Alexandra nodded, "Thank you."

       Alexandra refused to sleep while she waited. She didn't know who it was that would be picking them up. If it was a cleaning crew, she was going to have to think fast . . .

       But hours later, it was Michael and that was picking his way through the cots in the field hospital. Two men Alexandra knew were medics were directing two medical techs as they carried Kristie off.

        Michael squatted down in front of Alexandra, and he gently cupped her chin, searching her face. He was being gentle on purpose she knew. But he was also checking her eye's, to see what kind of shape she was in.

       "How bad is the exposure?"

       "They're convinced we're Nsa. They accepted need to know, and left it alone at that. There were no bodies in the park field when I got out. Half the park is gone. The twister went right through and took everything it could - including a few houses."

       "You're transmitter is dead," Michael told her, "That's why we couldn't find you. Jeremy said he thought you had ran."

       Alexandra sighed, "He . . . I'm not gonna mud sling. I think you know me better than that Michael."

       He nodded, and helped her up, grabbing the ruck sack with one hand, and handing her the IV bag still connected to her with the other.

       "Can you walk on you're own?"

       "Yes," She nodded, and started off behind him.

       "She could have left me there," Kristie said softly, as she spoke with Michael. They were back in med lab, "I'd have been dead in that field - or wherever the twister threw me, if she hadn't come back for me. If she wanted to run, she could have."

       "She didn't know her tracker wasn't working," Michael pointed out.

       "She had a blade, she could have dug it out," Kristie told him, "Don't tell me you're buying this shit! Jeremy fucked up. We should have waited for confirmation. We were all thinking it, but everyone is afraid to voice their opinion with him. She could have left me in that field, left me in the storm cellar . . . if she wanted to run, she could have. She figured out section wasn't coming for us. She called in - or had someone call."

       Michael nodded, "You're going to be questioned by Madeline and Operations."

       Kristie shrugged, "So what's new? Is that why I haven't seen Alex?"

       "She'd in lock down," Michael told her.

       Kristie groaned, "Michael - you have to help her!"

       Michael brushed Kristie's hair back from her face, "She'll be fine. It will come out."

       Alexandra turned onto her back. She couldn't get comfortable. The cell she was in was circular, with no clock, nothing. She'd been examined in med lab, and thrown into a cell. She was still in her gear. She needed a bath badly.

       Jeremy had accused her of running. He had told Section that was her real reason for disobeying orders. Section had to investigate it . . .

       But Alexandra still resented being in this cell. But at least her mind was at ease. She'd made her peace with Kristie. She knew if Section canceled her Kristie would tell Darren that they'd been forgiven.

       Continue on to Evaluation

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