The fan fic is the sequal to Three Months . . .

       The week after

By: Kimberly

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Kimberly was assisted in many ways by ONE LOBO - Email her at Email One Lobo

       Alexandra felt like she'd been awake for a week, and not just 24 hours. After she watched a simulation of Pepe being asphyxiated and herself being tortured for Carlson's benefit, she watched him beg for mercy for her, and spout fourth any thing Madeline wanted. She reported to med lab for a humiliating and painful examination and another depo shot. They were going to monitor her closely for the next couple months, and make sure she didn't ovulate. Then she'd debriefed.

       Madeline had picked up Pepe and sat him in her lap, affectionately stroking his fur while they clarified what seemed to be just about everything. It made Alexandra nervous, seeing Pepe in Madeline's lap. Especially after she'd just seen a simulation of his death. But Madeline seemed to genuinely like him.

       Operations actually congratulated her on a job well done. They sent her home to rest.

       When she reached her loft, she found that someone had been there recently. Everything had been dusted and vacuumed. There were fresh sheets on her bed. What little laundry had been there was done. A candle on a small pedestal holder on her bedside table. It was aroma therapy - for stress relief.

       Alexandra sighed. She'd thank whoever it was, if she ever found out. But now, she couldn't quite sleep. She unwrapped the candle, and lit it.

       Pepe obviously knew they were home. He snuggled down into the bed that was his, and watched her.

       The first thing she was going to do was get rid of this outfit she was wearing. It wasn't her. It belonged to someone elegant, intelligent and cultured.

       Alexandra was sharp, she could fake being cultured, but she was not elegant by any means. She pulled the dress off over her head, then yanked off the bra, the panties and the shoes, and tossed them all in the garbage, and headed for the shower.

       She scrubbed until her skin almost hurt, came out, and pulled on a tank top and panties, and stretched out on her bed. Sleep claimed her moments later.

* * *

       "How is she?" Kristie asked softly, walking up behind Darren.

       "I don't know," Darren answered her, "She looked exhausted. Madeline made her watch the interrogation,  they showed Carlson a sim of her being electrocuted, her freaking out over Pepe being suffocated - a sim of course - but she saw the whole sim as they showed it to Carlson. Then Med Lab had her for two hours because of the lost pregnancy, then she debriefed with Madeline and Operations."

       "I'd be a mess too," Kristie commented, glancing up and down the hall, "I don't suppose you found out anything from med lab?"

       "I didn't ask, they wouldn't tell me any way," Darren told her, "and Alex isn't' exactly chatty with me lately. I was on my way to go talk to Michael - not that it will do me much good."

       Kristie sighed, "Yeah well, I'll hit him up later - I better go, before someone sees us together."

       Darren watched her turn down another hall. They'd agreed not to be seen together if it could be helped, because of the rumors that had circulated after the damning video was found. Over the last three months, the worst of it was over, but neither one of them knew what was going to be up now that Alexandra was back in Section.

       Darren reached Michael's office, and knocked on the door.

       Michael called for whomever to come in. He was rather surprised to see Darren of all people walk in. Darren was not his material anymore, and after that whole mess with Alexandra . . .

        Michael reached into his desk, and typed in the scrambler code.

       "I need to talk to you about Alex," Darren told him.

       Michael didn't react. He didn't think there was much to discuss.

       "What is it?" Michael asked, calm, emotionless.

       "You were there for the debrief, you saw what she had to see . . . when I saw her in the hall after the  interrogation -"

       "I saw the two of you in the hall," Michael said calmly, "She's not in line for abeyance. Her performance on the assignment was excellent."

       Darren sighed, "I know you're not big on emotions with operatives Michael - but she's been through hell. She's gonna need to talk to someone, and it won't be me."

       Michael's expression remained calm, "I've anticipated some behavior variances."

       "Behavior variances?! This is a person we're talking about! Alex! Not a target! Someone who's a recovering Addict, who bottles up everything-" Darren snapped.

       "You provided her with a reason to cope no matter what - Pepe," Michael told him, "I know Rouge is going to be out of sorts. I've had to deal with operatives and personal issues for 9 years Darren. I know what to expect out of Rouge."

       "Michael - she hesitated to come in the first time -"

       "This conversation is over," Michael told him flatly.

       It was Kristie, four hours later, that visited Michael about Alexandra.

       "Have you spoken with Darren?" Michael asked her, only glancing up from the computer screen.

       Kristie walked the few short steps around his desk, grabbed his chair and spun it around, "Do  I have your undivided attention now?!"

       "Have you spoken with Darren?" Michael repeated the question calmly.

       "No - I don't do anything with Darren if I can possible avoid it. I don't do shit with anyone here if I can possibly avoid it because I'm suddenly a fucking pariah because of something I couldn't control!"

       "Are you here to talk about Alex or yourself?" Michael asked her.

       "Alex! Have you seen her today?" Kristie demanded, "She's just like you. She'll bottle it up inside, and work herself to death.  You might be able to reach her. So get off your self righteous emotion controlled ass and go find her!"

       Kristie turned on her heel, and stormed out of Michael's office.

       * * *

       Kim looked over at her clock. She hadn't seen Tony all day. She'd gotten so used to him stopping by that she come to expect it almost.

       It was 2:00 in the afternoon, and he wasn't out on a mission. He's been in this morning, she'd seen him heading for the firing range with a few other operatives. But that had been hours ago.

       "Hey!" his voice suddenly said behind her.

       Kim almost jumped out of her skin, "How did it go at the range?"

       He shook his head, "That place is a don's wet dream Kim - high tech guns and high tech ammo."

       Kim grinned, "I take that means it went well?"

       He nodded, and rubbed the hand towel on the back of his neck. They way he was dressed told her he'd been at the gym.

       "I just stopped by to say hello on my way to the showers. I don't want to scare everyone out of comm 'cause I smell like a pig," he told her, "Can I grab you something from the cafeteria?"

       "Salad," Kim told him

       "Ranch on the side, bacon bits and chopped hard boiled egg, can of ice tea," Tony finished, "I should have known."

       She looked at him for a moment, his attire. Nylon runners shorts, running shoes, tank top.

       "I gotta watch what I eat. I can't go work off the calories anymore," she told him.

       Tony had just turned to walk away, and stopped, "Why not?"

       She rolled her eye's, and grabbed her cane, and tapped it on the floor.

       "So what," he said, "So stay off the treadmill."

       She shook her head, "The gym is always full of people who gawk Tony. I just . . ."

       He sighed, "So let them gawk."

       She looked away, "I used to be able to do a lot more - I once thought I'd make a damn good cold op Tony -"

       "Hey, I thought we agreed this whole disability shit was in a persons head," Tony reminded her, "So let folks stare. Do what you feel is comfortable - we'll argue about this more when I get back from the showers."

* * *

       "Hey Nikita? You got a minute?" Tony asked, leaning through the open door to her office.

       Nikita looked over at him from the map she had hanging on her wall, "What's up?"

       He walked in, "I uh . . . need a favor - for someone else."

       She nodded, "Ok . . . if I can."

       "You know Kim - our comm specialist right?" Tony began, "Well, today we're talking - and she doesn't use the gym because people stare - and she's kinda limited . . . I was kinda thinking that if you could ask one of the trainers to work with her, early in the morning when it's not so crowded, she might go."

       Nikita nodded, "I could get someone there - but she probably doesn't even have cloths for it you know."

       Tony nodded, "I thought about that. I was gonna go pick her up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I saw the size on the soul of her shoe the other day."

       "When you shop, make sure the shorts are long, and not to clingy," Nikita told him, "She's self conscious. How early do you want to go?"

       "Five am?" Tony asked.

       Nikita nodded, "I'll have someone there."

       * * *

       Tony was guessing on the size she'd wear. He'd picked out a pair of leggings because they would cover the length of her entire leg, and a T-shirt that would hang down past her butt. He picked out a pair of cross trainers and bought some walker's socks, and put it all in a bag, after tearing off the tags so she couldn't complain about the expense.

       He went back to Section, picked up what was now a late lunch for them, and headed back to comm.

       "There is no way in hell," Kim told him, stabbing her fork into her salad, "What the hell am I going to do? Arm curls?"

       "You can probably ride a bike," Tony told her, "You don't have to put a lot weight on your leg that way. There are lots of upper body exorcises, and a trainer can tailor some leg exercises for you."

       She shook her head, "The trainers are for cold ops only."

       "Not here they aren't," Tony told her, "Nikita's gonna have one waiting for us tomorrow at 5:00 am, when the gym isn't so busy. I even gotcha something to wear, so you'll be comfortable."

       He handed her the bag.

       Kim pulled out a pair of leggings, the T-shirt, and the sneakers.

       "I . . . I haven't worn leggings in years."

       "I watch when you're hopping around here, you've got the butt for it and from what I can tell, the legs too," he teased, "C'mon Kim. Just try it."

       She sighed, "I won't guarantee I'll go back, but I'll give it one morning."

       "Deal!" Tony said excitedly, "So where do I pick you up tomorrow morning?"

       "I'm in room 203," she told him.

       Tony looked at her, "You live here?"

       She nodded, "Yeah - I've been doing this 12 hour thing almost since I got here - so I haven't gotten around to moving into a place yet. It's just been easier to stay here. I miss having plants though."

       Tony shook his head, "Ok, gym first, then you're getting a place, and plants!"

* * *

       Alexandra took Pepe to the park. He raced as fast as his little legs would carry him for about 25 yards, then raced back, leaping at her when he was about four feet away. He bounced off her leg, then repeated the whole process. After a little while of this frantic play, he flopped down in the grass, and flopped over on his back, batting at her fingers with his paws. She dangled her fingers just inches above his paws, dipped down just so he could catch them, then yanked them back up.

       A little while later, she bought a pretzel and a bottled water, asked for a small coffee cup, and poured a little into it for Pepe. She broke off pieces of her pretzel and made him stand on his hind legs for it, and munched on the other half of the soft pretzel herself.

        It was while she was feeding Pepe bits of the soft pretzel that she found her mind wandering. It still amazed her that Carlson had become so attached to her. It frightened her that she woke up wishing she was still on the mission. She knew it was  because her life with him had been easier, nicer, kinder. He didn't treat her like a whore. He pampered her, feed a need she had for affection.

       Then she'd come to the park, and saw a baby being pushed in a stroller, and felt a horrific wave of guilt. She knew in her head that she  hadn't drank enough to lose the baby. She knew in her head it was the old trauma, scaring over in her womb from her time in Iraq. The birth control shots had a place in the loss of the pregnancy too.

       But in her heart, she felt a tremendous loss, for something she knew she would always be denied.

       She looked up, and spotted Michael getting out of the Broncho. He spotted her immediately, and started over in her direction, pausing by a coffee stand momentarily.

       Alexandra was sitting on the grass, and chose not to get up.

       Michael stopped a few feet from her, and remained standing.

       "Well, my tracker is out, but Pepe's is in, my cell phone didn't ring - so you must have tracked Pepe," she said, looking up at him. She spoke in French.

       Pepe picked that time to bark at her. It was a high pitched yipping sound.

       "Pig," she scolded him, but gave him another bite of pretzel.

       "I wanted to see how you were doing, Rouge," Michael replied in French, "it was a difficult assignment."

       She shrugged, "I'm fine. I'm amazed at how effective using me to get him to talk was actually."

       Michael kept his eye's up and moving, "Why?"

       "I was a paid for piece of ass Michael," Alexandra replied, "A sure thing. He keeps cloths on my back, I do what he wants. Absolutely no reason to feel much for me at all, yet it happened."

       "You provided him with intellectual stimulation. You could think in terms of business, interact with clients from different cultural backgrounds. You didn't treat him like a John," Michael reminded her.

       "Sure I did," Alexandra argued, "I gave him what he wanted. Isn't that how the whole whore - john thing works. He pays for her time - in bed, how she acts, what she says?"

       Michael watched her face, seeing the pained expression in her eyes. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on in her head.

       "Whores don't save lives Rouge," Michael told her, "You do a lot more than just provide a service."

       She shrugged, "I'd give anything for an assault mission Michael. I'm so tired of this valentine stuff."

       "I know," he said softly, "I don't think you'll be doing a lot of valentine work for a while. You wouldn't have been my first choice for this assignment - but an abeyance operative would not have been able to do what you did."

       "Well Michael - you can sit down in the grass or continue to stand over me, but I'm pretty content here enjoying the grass."

       Michael sat down on the grass.

       "How much trouble am I in over getting pregnant?" she asked him.

       "You're not," he replied, "I'm supposed to counsel you on taking preventative measures. Condoms - don't rely on the depo shots. It's back up only."

       She shook her head, "How did Darren take it? I'm sure it wasn't an easy thing to hide."

       "He didn't say much. He left Section for the afternoon, Nikita deals with him more than I do. He was upset, worried about you," Michael told her, "Both he and Kristie came in today and read me the riot act for not keeping close tabs on you."

       She looked over at him, "Still feeling guilty are they?"

       "Yes," Michael answered, "They're not seeing each other Rouge."

       Alexandra shrugged, "I'm not mad anymore. It still hurts . . . but I not pissed. I mean  . . . they work together a lot, Darren's had to tolerate a lot of crap from me being overly cautious to throwing all caution to the wind, I got addicted on my own and lied to him and everyone else . . . Kristie was all messed up in the head over what happened when we were kidnapped - and it happened saving my sorry butt - she and Stephen were fighting anyway . . ."

       "I can't tell you what to do or what to feel," Michael told her, "Nikita wouldn't have done what they did."

       "You never put Nikita through -"

       "I put her through hell," Michael corrected her, "I manipulated her, I seduced her and turned her away, I abused her - you've seen very little of her life in Section. She was my material from the start. I used her emotions against her constantly."

       Alexandra groaned, "I don't have any choices Michael. The had a fling. I can't do anything about it. I got pregnant on accident, and lost a baby - I can't do anything about it. Life goes on. It goes on with me sleeping alone though. I envy the closeness you and Nikita have - but I'm not willing to face the risks anymore."

       * * *

       Nikita had on the dark brown wig and sunglasses again when she met Tomas.

       "Is there a reason we're meeting covertly?" Tomas asked her after they'd sat down, and had a moment to make sure they were speaking to who they thought they were speaking to.

       "I'm trying to buy a drug that two friends were slipped - which happens to be illegal - and I'm trying to do this without Section getting involved," Nikita told him, "What does he say?"

       Tomas sighed, "He can't guarantee it's the exact strain. It could be weaker, could be stronger - and he doesn't know when he'll be able to get it."

       Nikita sighed deeply.

       "So what's the big deal? Are they in trouble or something?" Tomas asked.

       "Yes and No. I wanted the drug to prove that they weren't lying about the symptoms - to prove it to other people in their lives," Nikita told him, "I'll find another way."

       Tomas shook his head, "If someone else offers to sell this shit to you, be careful Nikita. You won't know what you're getting until it's too late. The only reason I even trust my snitch the little bit that I do is because he knows I'd kill him myself otherwise."

* * *

       Kim wished she could get away with hiding under the bed or just not answering the door. But she knew Tony would knock all day or find a way in. She opened the door.

       She had her hair pulled up into a pony tail, the leggings on the T-shirt over it, her feet clad in the new sneakers, her cane in hand.

       "Ready?" He asked her.

       She shook her head, "Not really, but . . ."

       She shrugged, and stepped out of her section quarters.

       "Take a deep breath Kim, no one has ever died from this," He told her.

       She looked over at him, "I could be the first."

       Her gate was rhythmic as they progressed down the deserted halls, the tap tap from the cane sounded louder because there was very little background noise. They reached the gym, and Tony stepped ahead of her, and pushed the door open.

       There were a only 5 other people in the gym. Kim spotted Kristie on a stairmaster, going so fast and so hard it seemed as if the devil himself was hot on her heels. Nikita was running on a treadmill.

       One of the trainers started over towards them.

       "Good morning Kim," He said, "You ready?"

       She took a deep breath, "Yeah, I think so."

       He put her on an exercise bicycle first, since she didn't have to put much pressure on her leg that way. Next he put her through some isometric exercises to test the mobility in her injured leg and hip. The moment she started to feel pain, they backed off. Not surprisingly, her upper body strength was pretty good.

       "I want you to go for a bone scan and x-rays in med lab later today," the trainer told her, "Just so we know what we're working with. I don't advocate surgery in most cases, but if repairs can be made that will make your life easier . . ."

       She nodded, "Sure - but the doc's at my substation said this was it."

       "It doesn't hurt to check," the trainer told her, "Tomorrow morning - same time?"

       Kim nodded, and started towards the door, her cane in one hand, a hand towel in the other. She dabbed it on her face a little as she went. It felt good today, to work up a good sweat, do something that most people could do.

       "Trying to get back in the saddle?" a female voice asked.

       Kim knew it was Gina - the woman who'd been so jealous of her when she had Devin's affections, the woman who quickly replaced her.

       "Worried?" Kim asked, without stopping or pausing.

       "Not in the least," Gina said, "I just hate to see you struggle so hard to fail is all," Gina said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

       Kim finally did pause at the door, "False altruism doesn't suit you Gina."

       Tony  was just sitting up, having finished a set of bench presses. He was about to call out to Kim, but stopped when Gina spoke up first. Her comment surprised and irritated him, her tone of voice made it all that much worse. The tension between the two women was palpable.

        Kim was through the door and out of the gym a moment later. Now Tony knew why she'd been hesitant to come here. There was always someone like Gina around, and Tony got the distinct impression that it was personal.

       He looked around for Nikita, and saw her talking to the trainer that had worked with Kim. Nikita's expression was calm, perhaps a even a little pleased. That was a good sign.

* * *

       Kristie finished her punishing workout, and strode quickly to the locker room. She had a briefing in an hour, on Stephen's team no less.

        The locker rooms had wide individual showers with curtains hanging on a rod. Towel hooks sat on the tile frame just outside shower. Inside there were little shelves to put things like shampoo and soap on.

        There were long rows of full length locker with benches in between the rows of course, and vanity counters with lighted mirrors. Regular bathrooms were also located in the back.

        Kristie walked in, and started to turn the combo on her locker. She glanced over just in time to see another female cold op grab Kim's cane, and start to walk away with it.

       "What the hell are you doing?" Kristie demanded.

       Gina looked Kristie over, "I don't answer to you."

       "Put the cane back, this isn't highschool," Kristie told her.

       Gina ignored her, and started to walk away again, cane in hand. Kristie was livid. Gina knew who she was. They'd dealt with each other twice since she came to this station. Kristie was sure Gina was ignoring her because Kristie had been trying to keep a low profile, and be as nonconfrontational as possible. That was going to stop here and now.

       Kim's hand reached out for the towel, and felt around for her cane.

       "Damn," Kristie swore under her breath, "Kim - hold on a minute ok?"

       She shower curtain was yanked back, and Kim stood there with the towel wrapped around her, "Where's my cane?"

       "It's on the way back," Kristie told her, and strode to the far end of the locker room, where she'd just seen Gina disappear around a bank of lockers.

       Kim sighed. She was used to this kind of crap, but she certainly didn't like it. No one ever would have dared do this to her before she was disabled. Before hand, it would be her taking off after the bully, and she'd have kicked their ass all over the locker room.

       Kristie disappeared around a bank of lockers. A moment later, the cane flew back into view, clattering and falling against the wall, and along with the sound of muffled curses. The sound of a slap and flesh hitting flesh came a millisecond later. Then the sound of someone being slammed against the lockers, and more curses. A moment later, Kristie came around the bank of lockers, picked up the cane, and started walking back towards Kim.

       Gina stepped out from behind the bank of lockers, and called out loudly, "What? You got a taste for women or something Kristie? Or just gimps?"

       Kristie whirled around, grabbed Gina, and slammed her up against the wall, so hard that her head bounced off of it, "I don't like women. If I did, you'd be the last I'd go for, because you're a nasty, cruel bitch who gets off on trying to hurt other people. You're such a useless piece of shit, I'm surprised Section hasn't thrown your sorry ass into the abeyance pool. The Section Whore house is even to good for you! The first screw up, the first mistake, I'm on you like glue! You got that!"

        Kristie drew back her hand and slapped Gina hard across the face, making her head snap back.

Kristie shoved her away, and started back towards her end of the locker room.

       "Kristie look out!" Kim screamed a warning.

       Kristie wasn't able to get out of the way fast enough. She felt something come down on her head hard, making spots appear before her eye's. She whirled around, and to no surprise, saw Gina dropping the remains of a wooden chair.

       "I fucking warned you!" Kristie snapped at her, diving for her.

       Both woman sprawled on the floor, arms and legs flying. Gina swung her fist around, slamming it into Kristie's cheek. Kristie's head snapped back, but she managed to draw her fist back and land a punch across Gina's mouth. Gina grabbed  hand full of hair and yanked back violently, so Kristie's throat was exposed, Gina drew her fist back to deliver a punch  . . .

       But someone suddenly grabbed her wrist. Gina's head snapped around, and saw Kim half laying, half sitting on the floor, one hand trying to hold her towel in place, the other leaning all of her weight on Gina's wrist.

       "I will flash this whole damn locker room and drop this towel to slam my fist into your throat and fucking kill you if you don't give up right now," Kim snarled at her.

       Both Kristie and Gina were breathing hard, and there was a moment of silence.

       Gina gave in, and let go of Kristie's hair.

       Kristie got up, and offered a hand to Kim.  Kim managed to pull herself to her feet with Kristie's help, and she hopped over to where her cane lay on the floor. Kim had used the wall for leverage to get down to them.

       "Too bad there wasn't a huge else here, we could have sold tickets," Kim told Kristie, "Thankyou."

       "No big deal. I've been spoiling for a fight for days," Kristie told her, "Watch your back getting dressed and out of here, I gotta hurry or I'm gonna be late for my breifing."

       Kristie walked into the briefing room and felt her stomach drop to her feet. Madeline and Stephen were standing there, talking to Gina.

        I'm back in highschool, Kristie thought to herself.

       Kristie walked over and took a seat, and waited. Maybe Gina wasn't playing tattle tale. A few moments later, Gina passed quietly behind her. Kristie felt something tug on her hair, hard.

       "Haven't you had enough?" Kristie snapped at her.

       "Ladies," Madeline's calm voice said, "Is there a problem?"

       Gina looked at Kristie, eye brow raised, daring her to say something.

       "Yes Madeline, there is," Kristie said, "Gina - is not a team player. She was bating Kim in the gym this morning. In the locker room, she takes off with her cane while Kim was in the shower. When I caught up with her, it was about to go down the garbage shoot. I took it back, Gina attacked me, we struggled. Now, she walks by me, and yanks my hair. This stupid petty schoolyard stuff is going to put an entire team  - and the mission at risk."

       "She attacked me!" Gina started, "I didn't pull her hair!"

       Madeline sighed in a manner that told them she felt like she was baby-sitting school children.

       "Stephen, it's your team, you handle this," Madeline told him.

       "Gina, you have three days confined to quarters, Kristie goes on the mission," Stephen replied.

       "What! I didn't do anything!" Gina protested, "She's making it up!"

       "I saw you pull her hair when you walked by," Stephen said, "You can spend the next there days contemplating what professionalism means in your quarters. Go."

       Kristie kept her mouth shut. She knew Stephen wouldn't hesitate to send her off for three days in solitude too. Hours later  . . . .

       Kristie found herself laying in the mud, the cold seeping into her veins. They had a three hour window in which the target was supposed to be going through here. Their mission was simple. Take everyone out, and bring him in.

       Three hours in what had to be ice cold mud wasn't looking promising though. Gina was warm and dry back at Section too . . .

       But it would only be three hours.

* * *

       She could see the road, but she couldn't see the other operatives of course. That was the way it was supposed to be. She knew where they were though. Stephen in fact, was directly across the road from her.

       Stephen could almost feel her presence. He couldn't see her. He knew if he quizzed her, she'd know what was going on around her though. Yet somehow, he knew she was watching for movement from him, knew her eye's strayed to where he was hidden.

       She'd haunted his dreams at night these last few months. Every other thought was consumed with her voice, her touch, how she sounded, how she smelled, her taste. He woke up in the morning, imagining that he could still taste her on his lips, even though he knew she hadn't been there. Sometimes he cold swear he could smell her scent drifting by. At night he dreamed she was with him, curled into his side, sitting astride him, trapped below him . . .

       "We've got three trucks coming from the south," Kristie's voice suddenly said.

       He'd allowed himself to day dream. He'd have yelled at a team member for that.

        "Can you see the target?" Stephen asked.

       "Not yet, give me another 15 seconds . . ."

       They team waited, poised on her next words. The irony wasn't lost on Kristie.

        "It's our boy," Kristie said, "Passenger seat, first supply truck. At least one outrider on the back, I'd say there's another on the far side, since this guys view is limited."

       That would mean a total of 4 people per truck, 12 people in all. That was more than what they were told, but still something they could handle.

       "Noel takes out the first trucks driver as it passes him. Everyone but the target goes down," Stephen ordered, "We move on your shot Noel."

       Kristie felt the air bristle around her. She knew there were cold ops to her left, across from her. They were all ready, waiting . . .

       The van passed by her,  reaching Noel's vantage point a moment later. Three shots rang out, the first shattering the glass, the second and third making the intended target thrash around the cab. The truck careened off the road. Kristie saw three operative break  cover to get out of the way. She leapt up herself sitting in the outriders who were now looking for shooters. She sighted one in, and fired, sliding down the slight incline and onto the road.

       A bullet whizzed by her, and she turned and fired at someone leaning out of the back of a truck.

       "We've got shooters in the trucks!" Kristie yelled, knowing her comm unit would pick it up.

       She saw Stephen flinch back, his right arm flying back, the same time, her heart leapt into her throat. She knew he'd taken a hit. But he remained on his feet, turned and fired at one of the shooters.

       Less than 5 minutes later, it was over.

       Kristie strode over to where Stephen stood over the man they wanted to bring in. He had been shot in the shoulder, but he was alive, and would remain so.

       "Hurts, doesn't it?!" Stephen snarled at him, grabbing the man by this wounded arm and dragging him up, "Cuff him and stuff him in the back of the second truck. The bodies go in the back of the third, we drive the trucks back to the airstrip."

       Everyone dispersed to gather bodies up. Kristie knew better than to ask about his arm with an audience. She'd get to him later. If it was bad, he'd tell them, and have someone else take over.

       She helped the rest of her team drag the bodies over to the back of the third truck, two of the men on her team puling the bodies up. She knew they were just throwing them in. After all, they were the enemy, and dead.

       Somehow though, it seemed crude to her.

       When the last of them had been thrown in the truck, half of them headed for the Section van hiding in the brush, some of them headed for the supply trucks. She saw Stephen climb into the cab of the first, intending to drive it. She got in the passenger side.

        Stephen knew who was climbing in with him. It was almost as if he could sense her presence. A moment later, he could see her face, dirt smeared  yet somehow shining in the dim light.

       "Lets move people," he ordered, and started the truck. A moment later, it lurched forward. Kristie reached over, and tapped his comm unit to monitor only, and then did the same to hers.

       "How is your arm?" she asked him.

       "It hurts," he told her, "It passed through. Flesh only," he told her.

       She pulled her small magg lite from her pocket, and shined it on his arm. His jacket was soaked with his own blood. The wound was still draining blood too. Not gushing, but it was still bleeding.

       "This needs to be bandaged," she told him, and she started to rummage around the truck cab for a medical kit. She checked the glove box, under the seats, behind them, everywhere.

       "Not a damn thing," she muttered, "low budget terrorists."

       She knew that Stephen would have antibiotic ointment in the pocket inside his coat. She pulled the zipper down, and reached inside, and pulled out the small kit of ointments and pills. His own T-shirt was soaked in his own blood.

       She squeezed out some of the ointment into the wound.

       Stephen watched as she quickly, quietly worked. He saw her pull her jacket off out of the corner of his eye, and a moment later, he saw her hand pulling up the hem of her T-shirt.

       "What the hell are you doing?" Stephen asked suddenly.

       She yanked the T-shirt completely off of herself, baring herself from her waist up. She laughed at him, and used her knife to start to cut her T-shirt into strips for a bandage.

       "You act like you've never seen breasts before Stephen," she teased him, "and we both know you're pretty familiar with these breasts."

       She finished cutting up the shirt, and started to bind and wrap his arm. Stephen's eye's kept darting from the road, to the rosy tipped globes of flesh that gently  bounced and swayed with the movement of the truck and her own movements.

       She sat back, "That should hold you until we get back to the plane."

       Kristie smiled to herself, and pulled her coat back on, and zipped it closed. She knew he was hard a rock now. She could see him shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The little 5 minute exhibition was going to weigh heavy on his mind. She hoped he was hard for hours.

       Then, and idea bloomed in her mind.

       They were alone, and he was trapped with her for at least an hour . . .

       She unzipped her coat down a little, revealing a good amount of cleavage.

       "Did you get hit any place else?" she asked, reaching over to him, "There's an awful lot of blood here."

       Her hand roved down his chest, on his thigh, brushing against he swelling between his thighs.

       "Kristie," he groaned, "I got shot in the arm only . . . and if you keep that up . . ."

       "What?" she asked, looking up at him.

       Stephen glanced over at her, leaning forward, her coat gaping open, her hand on his thigh.

       "You can't do this to me, not here," Stephen said huskily, "I'm driving - one handed."

       "I just wanted to make sure you were ok," she said innocently.

       Stephen groaned, "If you keep that up, I'm not going to be ok."

       "So what is it," she asked slowly, her hand now boldly moving up his thigh, "That's bothering you? The view, the touch?"

       Her hand brushed across his swelling cock again.

       "All of it," he ground out, "Kristie I can't  - not while I'm driving one handed and ten cold ops behind us wondering why we're all over the road."

       "So I shouldn't do this," she said, yanking the zipper of his pants down, and reaching inside.

       "Oh my god!" Stephen moaned as he felt her fingers wrap around him.

       "Do you really want me to stop?" she asked huskily.

       "What I really want," Stephen ground out, "is to bend you over that seat and fuck you - stop it, now!"

       She sighed, and withdraw her hand, and sat back in her seat, and propped one foot up on the dash, spreading her legs wide.

       Stephen swallowed hard.

        They reached the airstrip. They quickly loaded the cargo and the section van into the belly, loaded up the bodies, and their target. Kristie noticed that Stephen appeared to be feeling a little weak, and he trudged slowly up the ramp to the passenger deck.

       When she and the rest of the team were done, they found Stephen giving the mission status to Operations. Their plane was taxi-ing down the runway when he finished.

       He sat back in his seat,  and closed his eye's, until they were in the air.

       "Kristie," Stephen said softly, "I need you to redress this for me."

       She nodded, and stood up, and followed him back to the make shift infirmary.

       "Close the door," he said quietly.

       Kristie did it without question.

        Suddenly, Stephen grabbed her with his good arm, pulling her body in close to his. His mouth came down hard on hers, plundering her lips and mouth like a starved man. He broke the kiss a moment later, and yanked the zipper down on her coat, then started at the button her pants.

       Kristie didn't need any direction or encouragement. She yanked her pants down, dragging her panties with them to her knees.

       Stephen turned her around, and yanked his own pants open with left hand. She felt him pushing her over table, and a moment later he thrust inside  her, his hand snaking around to cover her mouth.

       Kristie knew he was trying to prevent her from making any noise, but somehow having his hand over her mouth made her feel totally at his mercy - it was a new thing for them, and she became even more excited.

       She arched her hips back and up as he slammed into her over and over, her own body hypersensitive almost immediately from deprivation. She came quickly, jerking and spasming back against him.

        His thrusts changed, and a moment later she felt him come, and his body relaxed against hers for a moment.

       But just a moment. He stood up, and she turned around on wobbly legs, and found him struggling to get his pants fastened with one hand.

       "Let me," she said softly, and pulling his boxers up, buttoning and zipping his pants. She pulled her own cloths back in order, and sat down next to him on the bench.

       "Do you really need me to rebandage your arm?" she asked.

       "Probably," he said quietly, "Especially since we've both been back here too long to have decided it could wait."

       Kristie went to work.

       "What really happened earlier, with you and Gina?" Stephen asked her as she tended his wound.

       "Just what I told you," Kristie replied, "She's got this thing for bating Kim. I saw her take the cane while Kim was in the shower. It pissed me off. I went after her, intending just to get the cane back and warn her off. She attacked me and I defended myself. I tried to walk away a few times. You could probably pull a surveilance tape."

       "I believe you," Stephen said, "I just wondered if she'd made some other comments that got to you."

       Kristie laughed, "The  fact that she breaths gets to me Stephen. I can't stand people like her. Playing a prank on a friend is one thing. She is malicious. She hates Kim. She goes after any man a woman is seeing or interested in just to prove she can get them. She's trouble."

       "I've kinda suspected she was going to be a problem," Stephen sighed, "I tried to pawn her off on Michael, instead of you, but he wouldn't take her."

       Kristie looked up at his face, "I wasn't on Michael's team 'cause you were pissed at me?"

       "No," Stephen said, reaching up with his good hand, and stroking her hair, "He's got a short team as it is. With Alexandra out, he was down to not being able to operate almost. He asked for you."

       Kristie sighed, "I thought you just couldn't stand the site of me."

       "I can't get you out of my head Kristie. Sometimes I have trouble concentrating on a mission because all I can think about is you," Stephen confessed.

       "You said a moment ago you believed me - if you can believe me about Gina, why not about what happened with Darren?"

       Stephen sighed, "I do . . . now. I just . . . Kristie it's bad enough that sometimes I know you're going to have to have sex with a target. It's just worse when it's someone I know."

       "I'd never have done it if I could help it, because he's a friend of both of ours, because he was Alex's . . . you have to just take that for what it is Stephen," She whispered.

       "I . . . I'll try," he told her, "Be glad I didn't see the video."

       She squeezed her eye's shut, "Don't go there, I try to forget."

       "Why?" Stephen asked softly, "Because you enjoyed it?"

       "It was sex, it felt good . . . but it didn't feel right Stephen . . . it's hard to explain, but there's something that the drug does to what you feel physically . . . and sex with someone you really want is different than just a fuck . . . and for Christ sakes - it was Darren! He looks good, but it's like I fucked my brother or something. Yick!"

       Stephen suspected that her last comment was mostly to allay his worries, but he didn't say that to her. Why argue?

* * *

       The whole mission had gone wrong from the start. Their Intel was sketchy, the target changed locations at the last minute, and she would swear that a team had been waiting for them.

       "Go damnit! Now!" Nikita ordered through her comm unit, "Get Sevasky back to Section!"

       Kim saw a lot of unsure faces. No one wanted to leave Nikita. She was pinned down, wounded and trapped. They'd get to her, torture her, kill her . . .

       But they had to get Sevasky back to Section. He was their target. As far as Section was concerned, Nikita was collateral.

        "I'll go back for her," Darren announced, pulling off his comm gear, "Cut communications so they can't use Nikita's comm unit to track you, her or me."

       Someone handed Darren their gun and two magazines. Darren tucked it into his shoulder rigging, keeping his own weapon in his hand. He pulled two flash grenades from the supply rack, and grabbed a few packets of rations, and shoved them into his jacket, and started out the door, "Go."

       Darren moved through the brush, seeing a  jeep careening down the road after the section van. The other operatives weren't out of trouble yet. A moment later, he saw something get lobbed out from the back door. He covered his ears. Seconds later he felt the concussion as the jeep exploded, the flames licking up into the sky when he turned to look.

       He moved quickly, so he could see what was going on in the courtyard. Nikita was being dragged to a waiting truck. They were leaving this base now. There were too many of them to risk just running up, guns blazing.

       But a few feet from him, was a man about Darren's size, and dressed in street cloths, just like the rest of the terrorist group had been.

       Darren dragged the body back into the brush, stripped off his own mission cloths, and pulled on the dead man's clothing. There was blood on the mans jacket and shirt, but it couldn't be helped.

       Darren pulled the hood on the jacket up to hide his hair, and watched. At the last minute, he moved down into the courtyard, and climbed into the van Nikita had been thrown into. It was dark, so that would be a help to him as well. It would hide his identity longer.

       The wallet the man was carrying identified him as Jaques. Darren could fake something of a French accent if he hand too.

        He heard someone questioning Nikita, and she remained silent refusing to answer. They kicked her, and Darren fought himself to not flinch. There were too many to take them out, especially with half an army loading into the other trucks.

       But then, their truck started, and started to pull away, without the other vehicles. Darren felt hope surge within him. He stayed at the back of the truck, keeping his face outward, so all they could see was his back. There were 12 men in the truck with him. He knew he had enough bullets, just not enough time. He just prayed an opportunity would provide itself.

        He couldn't help but remember the time he and Alexandra went AWOL to rescue Michael and Nikita, when Section thought they had gone AWOL. It had been sheer luck that they'd pulled it off. He briefly wondered if it would just be better to kill Nikita and himself if no opportunity presented itself. It would save them both from torture - and there was no guarantee that Section would come for them. Michael would though. For Nikita, Michael would move mountains. Darren on the other hand, would have been on his own if it had been him that was taken. At this point, he was sure Alexandra would let him rot and die where ever the fates chose to leave him. He reasoned that killing Nikita and committing suicide himself was out of the question.

The road twisted and turned, and soon Darren couldn't see the installation that he'd earlier been party to attacking. He understood the dialect the terrorists behind him were speaking. They didn't know who had come after them. The debate about who Nikita belonged to was in full swing. Right now, the top contenders were MI-5 or CIA. Two of them were holding out for the Mossaad. Darren couldn't help but grin. They were so far off.

        Twenty minutes later, there were still no other supply trucks behind them. He didn't even see dirt rising up into the air miles back. The hills would obscure a good part of that though. He knew he was going to run out of time eventually - that or he'd be caught as well, and no help to Nikita.

       Darren wondered what Section was doing right now. Operations was undoubtedly screaming his head off. Kim would be getting the brunt of it, being the comm relay. She'd sit there and quietly listen to it too. Darren considered who else was on the team. At least none of them were going to have to finish anything. No one that was remaining was ready to lead a team. Darren thought of all of them on this mission, he was the most capable, but he knew his limitations. Anything short of a text book assault or a surveillance mission was out of his league to run. It was too bad Tony hadn't been with them, or Dante. But both of them would have come with Darren. In Darren's opinion, the two of them could have taken over the team for small stuff. Darren hoped nothing came up on the way back to Section. He knew he was going to get his ass chewed for going back for Nikita. If something happened with the team, he would be lucky if he didn't end up in abeyance.

       An hour had gone by. Darren was getting more worried by the minute. They debate over what entity Niktia was affiliated had died off. Now they just debated on who was going to take over in their leaders absence. There was talk of revenge. One of them wanted to tear Nikita limb from limb and leave her body on the steps of the UN building. Darren swallowed hard. He'd kill Nikita himself before he let that happen.

       Darren had shifted in his seat a little. With his head down, he could see a little, but appear to be asleep. He heard one of the men announce he had to take a piss. Someone else joined in. The first man yanked up the canopy, and rapped on the metal frame of the truck. A panel slid back. A few moments later, the truck geared down, and they were coming to a stop in the road.

       Nikita was bound hand and foot, so one man was left to watch her as everyone else climbed out. Darren made a show of rubbing his face, as if waking up. When it was just himself, Nikita and the unknown man, he stood up, and walked back to where the unknown man stood over Nikita.

       Darren hated what he was about to do, but he knew he had no other better options. Lightning quick, his fist slammed into the mans throat, crushing his larynx. Next, he grabbed his head and yanked it to the side, snapping his neck.

       Nikita's eyes were wide when Darren looked down at her. Recognition flashed in her eye's then.

        "Hold on," he told her, and moved to the back of the truck.

       He climbed out, moved around to the passenger side of the drivers cab. The door was open. He thanked god for luck, or divine intervention, or whatever this had all been a result of. He climbed into the cab, and the driver looked over at him, clearly about to ask who he was.

        Darren's foot lashed out, slamming the drivers head into the door frame. Then Darren brought a knife hand down on the man's throat, and snapped his neck, just has he hand the man in the back.

       He was pulling the body out of the way when he saw the other men walking back towards the truck in the side mirror.

       Darren slid behind the wheel, yanked the brake release and shoved the truck into first gear and hit the gas. The tires spun, sending rocks and dirt flying, but the truck leapt forward, leaving 12 surprised terrorists standing in the doorway.

       He heard the first bullet hit the frame, and gritted his teeth. His best bet was to drive like hell out of there. He couldn't hang out the window and shoot back at them, so he kept his eye's on the mirrors and the road ahead of him, and drove for another 20 minutes as fast as the truck would go.

       Finally sure he'd bought them some time, he stopped, shoved the body out of the cab, and ran to the back of the truck.

        Nikita was working herself up into a sitting position. Darren yanked the gag of off her mouth.

       "What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded.

       "You're welcome," Darren chuckled, drawing out his knife to cut the ropes they'd tied him with.

       "I . . . thanks but . . . I told you and everyone else to go!" Nikita told him.

       Darren sighed, "The rest of the team is on the way back to Section. I stayed behind alone," Darren told her, cutting away the rest of her bonds, "How bad is the wound?"

       She moved her leg gingerly, "Not bad, I don't think it got the bone, but it didn't come out either."

       Darren sighed, "Ok . . . lets get you in the cab and we'll keep going."

       Nikita nodded, and used Darren as leverage to get up. The view before her began to spin. She swayed. Darren caught her.

       "Easy there boss," Darren said gently, helping her walk to the back. Finally, Darren threw her over his shoulder, and carried her to the cab.

        "Near as I can figure, we should be near Pristina. If we can make it into the city, we can contact Section and let them know we're free."

       "There's a substation in Belgrade," Nikita told him, her voice betraying how much pain she was in.

       Darren looked at her, "Belgrade is hell and gone from here, and there has to be tons of checkpoints on the way."

       "Michael has a contact in Pristina," Nikita told him softly, "He can get us papers . . ."

       It was three hours later when they found a phone. They were on the outskirts of the city. They broke into a home. Nikita called Section while Darren searched for a change of cloths and money. Darren could tell by the answers Nikita gave that whomever was on the other end wasn't happy. The conversation changed then. Darren guessed that she was speaking to someone else.

       She hung up a few moments later.

       "I have the name of one of Michael's contacts. It's someone I've dealt with before," She told him, "What did you find?"

       "Cloths that won't fit well, but they'll do the trick," Darren replied, "And some money. Not a lot. There isn't much Jewelry up there either. Nothing of value."

       Nikita nodded, "I hate taking jewelry anyhow.

       She started to dial a number. Darren listened to her talk to someone for a few minutes, and they agreed to meet someplace in two hours.

       "Nikita," Darren began after she got off the phone, "We have to get that bullet out."

       He was already pulling a pot out of the cabinet, and filling it with water to boil. Nikita nodded. She knew he was right. She just wasn't looking forward to it.

       "Where's a microwave when you need it huh?" Darren joked. He'd found a few kitchen utensils that he thought he could use. No matter what, this was going to be painful and messy.

        He had the knife boiling in the water. Nikita cut away the remains of her pant leg with her own knife.

       "Just do it quickly. Don't go slow," She told him, "I promise I'll forgive you."

       Darren managed a short laugh, "Just don't shoot me out of revenge . . . you want something to bite on?"

       She shook her head, "Lets just get this over with."

       He nodded, and pulled the two knives out of the boiling water.

       The first scream made his blood run cold. The second made his heart twist and break in his chest. A few minutes later, he had the bullet out. He squeezed some antibiotic ointment into the wound, and bound it tightly.

       Nikita looked pale, and ready to vomit.

        "Hey boss, we ought to get going," Darren said gently, "You ready to hop around to the side of the house?"

       She nodded weakly, "You remember how to hot-wire a car?"

       Darren held up a handful of keys, "I'm hoping one of these works."

       She smiled, and felt the world tilt around her. She was in trouble and she knew it. Darren must have sensed it too. He opened the fridge, and pulled out a container of juice, and a couple other food items.

       "These people are gonna wonder what the hell kind of people steel a change of cloths, a car and food," He commented, shoving it all into a bag that he'd taken from one of the bedrooms.

       He scooped Nikita up, and carried her outside.

       It took a few minutes, but he found a key that worked in the door, and the ignition. They were on the road again, heading for the city center.

* * *

       The door to Michael's office flew open. Alexandra strode through. Michael sighed deeply. She was never going to be manageable. He should quit trying.

        She was back in her normal attire. It was leggings today instead of the short skirt. Her thigh high boots, a crop top with a leather jacket that hung just to her waist, her tummy and navel piercing exposed. She had on big silver hoop earrings and around her neck were the usual silver  chains, but he also saw a smaller necklace, a flat silver disk charm on it. He knew what was on it. On one side, there was a cross etched in. The other side, en inscription Strength is where you choose to find it - Love D.

        Michael knew who had given it to her. Darren. She wouldn't have found out that He had gone back for Nikita until after she'd come in. It was curious that she was wearing it.

       Pepe was tucked into her side.

       "I just heard about Nikita and Darren," Alexandra told him, "When does the extraction team leave?"

       Michael sat back, "It doesn't. They're away from the terrorist unit that had them. They're meeting with a contact to get papers to allow them to travel out of the country under false identities."

       Alexandra looked visibly relieved, "So they're ok then . . . I was worried."

       "About who?" Michael asked, watching her.

       "Michael, I don't want to play that game right now," Alexandra told him, "How much trouble is Darren going to be in?"

       Michael watched her. She was pacing the room - releasing tension in waves.

       "He won't be canceled or put in abeyance," Michael told her, "They'll reprimand him."

       Alexandra's pacing slowed. Reprimand meant he'd get yelled at, he'd get some crappy assignments.

        "I thought I suggested that you take another day off," Michael told her, changing the subject.

       She looked at him, "I got bored. I was gonna do some target shooting, get in a good work out . . ."

       Michael listened to what she said, and what she didn't say. She was lonely. He knew what kind of turmoil she was going through. No matter what she wanted to admit, she'd grown attached to Carlson. It wasn't hard to understand. He'd been good to her. He'd fed a need in her to be treated well, cared for, and treated like she had brain in her head. She wasn't just a sexual object for him but he did desire her. In short, he'd been a good substitute to salve her wounds after Darren and Kristie.

       Michael stood up and closed the blinds to his office. She'd already closed the door. She was keyed up, way to much. Madeline had warned him to watch her. She was a prime candidate to run right now, high risk for emotional breakdown.

       "Rouge," Michael said, his voice calm, "Sit down."

       She stopped her pacing, and set Pepe down, and took a seat on the vinyl sofa, "When will you hear something else?"

       "In about an hour," Michael told her, "The man who's going to provide their ID's will call me."

       Alexandra nodded, her eye's watching Pepe travel the room. He kept looking back at her, feeling the tension in the room.

       "He knows I'm wired," Alexandra sighed, "Stripe was that way too."

       "Who was Stripe?" Michael asked.

       Alexandra looked up at him, "My dog - my last dog. Little fox terrier. Small guy, like Pepe. Tan and white, a real cutie. He always picked up on how I was feeling."

       Pepe walked back over to her, and leapt up into her lap.

       She scratched between his ears, "Do we know how badly Nikita was hurt?"

       "Flesh wound, in the thigh," Michael told her, "Bad enough that she's having trouble walking."

* * *

       Darren looked over at Nikita. It took very little to convince her to close her eye's and rest. That told him she'd been this side of passing out. He just hoped he could wake her when it was time.

       The bleeding had slowed down substantially. She stirred in her sleep. Darren took that as a good sign.

       He'd been to this city three times in the past. He knew the main streets through here. He knew how to get to the area that they were going to meet their contact. What he didn't know was how they were going to hide Nikita's injury. There would be questions at the airport or at a buss station.

       They reached the city center and the entrance to the open market. Nikita had told him that Darren would be standing out in front of the entrance holding a shopping bag.

       "Nikita," Darren called softly.

       She slowly opened her eye's, "We're there?"

       "Yeah," he told her, "Can you wake up enough for me to leave for a few minutes?"

       She nodded, and sat up, stretched her upper body, "Ok, go on. I'm ok. We should be able to see each other."

       Darren grabbed the shopping bag from the back seat, "Wave or yell for me, ok?"

       She nodded, "He'll ask if you are Michael's and my friend."

       Darren nodded, and got out of the car.

       He stood by the entrance, keeping his eyes open and roving, just in case someone spotted them. If the terrorist group found their truck, then a burglarized house, it wouldn't take to long for them to figure out that they'd gone into the city.

        He stood out there for 15 minutes before a man approached them.

       "I hear they're getting married," the man said, standing next to Darren, "How did Michael get it passed that told bastard Operations?"

       His speech was slightly accented, but he spoke English. Darren was concerned about anyone around them noticing, so he answered in the mans native tongue, "Michael cashed in a favor - at least that's what I heard."

       "I got what you need," he told him, "Where is Nikita?"

       "Car," Darren told him, "She's hurt."

       The man grimaced. Injured people stood out.

       They'd left the car there, and taken their contacts car back to his shop with him. He wasn't happy about having two section cold ops in his home, especially since they were hiding from a terrorist group that he often supplied papers to. That was how Section caught up with them in the first place.

       "Take this cane," He told them, pulling it out of a closet, "The authorities won't ask a question if you look like a cripple, instead of someone who was recently hurt."

       Nikita nodded, "How strong are these papers? You didn't have long."

       "Don't let them check Interpole and you'll be ok," He replied, "I'll drop you off three blocks away from the bus station. Its the best I can do. You can catch the evening bus to Belgrade."

       He handed them both a packet of papers, "Money and your papers."

       Nikita used the cane to get up and walk. She knew Darren and the forger were watching her closely, hoping she could get by using the cane.

       "Lets go," she said, taking a few slow steps, "As long as I don't have to do this a lot, I'm ok."

       Darren had a shoulder bag which contained two changes of cloths and some toiletries. They'd be a couple traveling together. It was just prop for a temporary cover.

        They were dropped off three blocks from the bus station, and they walked slowly the rest of the way. Darren kept his eye on the pant leg that covered her wound. He'd checked it before they left. The bleeding was slow, but it was still oozing a bit. He'd rebandaged it, hoping to stay off any seepage through her stolen cloths.

       He had her sit down on a bench in the bus station, and he purchased two buss tickets. When the man asked their reason for travel, they were visiting relatives in Belgrade.

       An hour later, they were traveling out of the city, on the way to Belgrade.

* * *

       Kristie almost ran into Alexandra in the hallway. Both women came to an immediate stop to avoid hitting each other.

       Pepe reared up on his hind legs, his front paws flailing in the air.

       "He wants you to pick him up," Alexandra said calmly.

       Kristie bent over, and gently picked up the Chihuahua, "Hey there little guy, I missed you and your mama."

       Pepe licked Kristie's hand a few times, and then snuggled into her a little.

       "Alex," Kristie began, "I just heard that they got to Belgrade."

       Alexandra felt relief flood through her. She sighed deeply, closed her eye's, "I was almost afraid to go ask . . ."

       Kristie relaxed a little. Alexandra wasn't planning on taking her head off then and there at least.

       "Have we heard about Nikita at all?" Alexandra asked.

       "Only that she was ok. They're sending them back on a commercial flight tomorrow, so she must be ok," Kristie told her, "Stephen is still in med lab with his arm."

       Alexandra frowned, "Did you just get back from a mission?"

       "Yeah, I ran and took a shower," Kristie told her, "Middle east. We took a target and boosted his cargo. Stephen took a round in his shoulder, but it went clear through. Bled all over himself, but he was ok."

       Alexandra nodded slowly, "Good - that he's ok I mean . . ."

       Kristie nodded and then laughed a little bit, "OK - both of us don't know what to say to the other one, this is awkward!"

       Alexandra took a deep breath, "Well, I don't know what to say Kristie . . . I'm not thrilled about it still, but it's done."

       "I'm not forgiven, am I?" Kristie sighed, "Alex - did you read any of -"

       "Yes," Alexandra said, "I read a ton of stuff on it Kristie. I just don't buy it. I . . . I figure that it was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never expected it to be with you is all."

       "But we didn't mean -"

       "Kristie please," Alexandra cut her off, "I can't dwell on this. I just . . . Let it go, ok?"

       Alexandra pulled Pepe from her hands, and started to walk away.

       "Alex!" Kristie started after her, "We're friends - we just can't let it go this way!"

       Alexandra stopped and turned, "We are not friends. No one has any real friends here Kristie. That was the first lesson my first trainer beat into me, and I never should have forgotten it. We can get along as long as we're here - but we're not friends. That concept just doesn't exist here."

       Alexandra turned on her heel, and started down the hall again.

       Kristie wanted to scream, yell, and maybe cry. What Alexandra had said to her was one of the most hurtful things Kristie had ever dealt with.

       * * *

        "I need a sparing partner," Alexandra said, leaning into Michael's office, "Please?"

       Michael was surprised, but he didn't say anything. He listened, he watched. She was dressed in street cloths, her usual style. Pepe wasn't trailing behind her though. That meant Walter had him.

       "I'll be down in room 4 in 10 minutes," Michael replied, "Did you get the message that they were safe?"

       Alexandra nodded before slipping back out into the hall.

       She showed up in the room wearing bike shorts and a T-shirt. She was just pulling on a pair of sparing gloves.

       Michael waited behind his line in the sparing square, waiting for her to make the first move. She watched him for a few moments, then stepped forward.

       The spared, point for point, kicks, punches, blocks, sweeps, side steps. Their strikes weren't hard. It was exercise, tension to be burned off. Michael knew something had gotten to her this morning, but he didn't know what. He wouldn't ask until after the match.

* * *

       Kim looked over at Kristie as she walked by, "You look like a kicked dog."

       Kristie smirked, "I feel like one."

       Kristie walked over, and sat down next to Kim, "You didn't let Gina scare you outta the gym, did you?"

       Kim shook her head, "I went the day I was here, I'll go tomorrow, or later tonight."

       Kristie nodded, "Wonder what a few days in Solitary confinement will do for Gina's personality."

       Kim raised an eyebrow, "Where is she?"

       "Stephen has this little discipline method. He confines you to your quarters for a few days. You get meals. No books, no magazines. You have the four walls to stair at. It's maddening. I snuck out three times when he did it to me, and I still don't ever want to deal with it again."

       "She'll come out surly. Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't made a play for Stephen," Kim told her, "She has a taste for anything remotely Male and in authority positions, or anything taken."

       Kristie rolled her eye's, "Sounds like a lovely girl. I hate her already."

* * *

       Nikita had been back in the Section One main station all of thirty seconds when she saw Michael stepping through the med lab door.

       "I'm fine," she said quickly, "Belgrade took good care of me - Darren did a great job dressing the wound in the field."

       Michael nodded quietly, watching her face, then looking at the faces of the medlab staff. They're expressions were calm.

        "Blood pressure and temperature are in line," the medical tech said, "The doctor will be in to take a look at your wound in a few minutes."

       The medical tech disappeared into the back hallway between rooms.

       "I was worried," Michael said quietly.

       Nikita reached out, slipping her fingers into his, "It was almost like they were expecting us. I was worried the team wouldn't get back."

       Michael listened to her, watched her face. Stress and strain had made itself known. She looked exhausted.

       "Did you make your report to Operations yet?" He asked her calmly.

       "Yes," Nikita answered, "From Belgrade. Darren got the ass chewing of his life, but if he hadn't come back . . . I see Operation's side of it Michael - but he did exactly what you or I would have - what we have done . . ."

       Michael squeezed her hand, "I know . . ."

       "How is Alex?"

       Michael wanted to groan out loud, "She's handling things well. She doesn't want to talk, but she comes up with a reason to seek out company. Her mood isn't depressive - more resolved. Still headstrong as ever."

       Nikita grinned. She could only imagine what Michael meant. Alexandra exhuded defiance in every step she took. Nikita had been that way once.

       "What about Kim? She was bound to get a good amount of Operations spleen when the team got back?" Nikita asked.

       "She's made of sterner stuff than we think," Michael told her, "I found out you arranged for a trainer to work with her."

       "Yeah," Nikita replied, "There's no reason for her to not use what we have available . . ."

       Michael glanced past her, seeing the doctor walking in. There were a million other things he wanted to talk to her about. Their wedding plans, meeting the priest, he wanted to thank her for thinking of Kim. But that was just Nikita. She was always reaching out to everyone around her.

* * *

       Darren heard the knock on his door, wondering who it was. He wasn't expecting anyone, he'd just come back from getting the ass chewing of his life. It was probably someone coming to see how much was left of him.

       Darren looked through the peep hole, and felt his heart rate jump. It was Alexandra. He yanked open the door.

       "Hi," he said, surprised.

       "Hi," she said, her voice telling him she was a little tense. She walked past him, and into the apartment. The first thing Darren noticed was that she looked tired.

       She was dressed in snug jeans, a half shirt, and her thigh high boots. Earrings, the chains around her neck, one of them tucked inside her top. Her usual attire. Her breasts bounced a little as she walked, her nipple making little peeks in her shirt. Darren felt his throat go dry.

       She set Pepe down, and dropped her purse onto the chair.

       "I wasn't expecting you," Darren said, "But I'm glad you came, I -"

       She turned around, crossed the distance between them in four steps, and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was hungry, demanding. Darren couldn't help but kiss her back, his arms drawing her body tight against his.

       Alexandra felt her pulse racing in her veins, the taste of him on her lips and tongue intoxicating. She'd come here knowing this was what she came for. But it was intoxicating and thrilling just the same. She started to pull his shirt from his jeans to running her hands up his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles bunching under her fingers - and they did too.

       She could feel his hardening cock pressing against her stomach as held her body tight into his. She had the struggle to run her hand up his chest, her fingers coming across his small tight male nipples. She knew this was a sensitive spot for him, so she rubbed her thumbs across them, teasing him. He groaned deep in his throat, and started pushing them back towards his bedroom.

       Alexandra staggered back, her heels catching on the step. Darren had a tight hold on her though, and his hands cupped her butt, lifting her up. Alexandra wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing him with her thighs.

       Darren laid her back on the bed, kneeling between her legs. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, watching her as she pulled the silver chains she always wore from around her neck, then pulling her T-shirt up and off. Just as he'd suspected, she wore no bra.

        Darren's hungry gaze raked over her stomach, her breasts. Her nipples stood up firm and hard. Darren knew they were sensitive. He bent his head down, taking one rigid peak into his mouth. He heard her breath catch in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips.

        He suckled her, nipped at her tender flesh, making her moan in ecstasy. His thumb had been stroking over her other nipple, stroking, squeezing. He lifted his mouth from the one nipple, and moved on to the other.

       She writhed anew under him. Darren felt her hands on his back, stroking across his chest, teasing his nipples with her fingertips.

       Soon her hands strayed down, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his zipper down. He moaned again, his mouth just leaving her for a moment after, "Querrida," he moaned, his mouth moving farther down, kissing her flesh as he went, nipping.

       His mouth closed over her navel, his tongue stroking her. Her hands tore at his jeans frantically, freeing him after a moment. He felt her fingers wrap around him, her grip firm but not too hard. She squeezed just a little, and rubbed her thumb across the tip.

       Darren moaned loudly, feeling his body threatening to betray him.

       "Querrida no," Darren murmured,  "I'll come too early . . ."

       He brought her hand up to his lips, and kissed her palm.

       He peeled her jeans down and off, her panties with them. His mouth pressed tiny kisses to her flesh, moving around to the inside of her thigh.

       He lifted her legs up over his shoulders, his breath warm on her tender flesh. She trembled under him. He stroked his finger along the cleft of her nether lips, her flesh already wet and aching for him. He followed with his tongue, parting her, reveling in her unique taste. He loved the way she tasted when she was aroused. His tongue moved up to her clit, stroking over her just a few times, and she came hard and fast, crying out almost as if she was in pain.

Darren reared up over her a moment later, reaching for the bedside table drawer for a condom. He didn't want to risk a pregnancy with her now. Not after what happened to her a few weeks ago.

        He looked down at her, and just as her eye's strayed down, he felt her body stiffen.

       "What are you doing?" she asked him, suddenly anxious.

       "Protecting you," He said, his voice husky, deep.

        He stroked his hardened cock between her nether lips, stroking over her clit. He watched all reason disappear from her eyes in moments.

       He stroked himself down again, and eased himself inside her, moaning out loud as her hot moist shaft squeezed him.

       Alexandra felt ever nerve in her body sizzle in passion. He felt so good, deep inside her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, arching up to meet his thrusts.

       He lowered his mouth down to hers, kissing her hungrily, tasting her, devouring her as their bodies melded into one. He moved down her neck and throat, and he felt her teeth sinking into his shoulder. His thrust into her even harder, his mouth suckling her nipple again.

       She cried out again, and he lifted his head, watching her face. Her head thrown back, eye's closed, lips parted. Darren stroked his tongue along her lips again, teasing the rosy flesh, but not delving inside at first. Then he did, tasting her.

       He felt her body start to contract around him, and his thrusts changed, throwing her far over the edge. He let his own release come them, ecstasy crashing over him in hot waves, making his whole body spasm.

       He collapsed on her,  his arms sliding under her back, his hand cradling the back of her head. He kissed her neck, tasting the salty sweat moistened flesh, once again reveling in how good she tasted to him - especially when they made love.

       He felt her legs go slack around him, and his mouth moved up to hers, gentle this time. She kissed him back, her pace matching his.

        "I should go," she whispered softly, fighting to keep her eye's open.

       "Why?" Darren asked gently, "Do you have a breifing or something?"

       "No," she murmured, "But I hadn't planned on staying afterwards . . ."

       Darren stroked her hair back from her face. What makeup she'd had on was now smudged and mostly worn off. Now he could see the dark circles under her eye's. She'd looked tired when she walked into his apartment. He'd known it had to have been a difficult mission for her. She was prone to dream, nightmares usually. He didn't need to ask what haunted her nightmares now. There was plenty fuel for that fire in her life lately. Carlson, the loss of their baby . . .

       But I hadn't planned on staying afterwards . . .

       Darren took a deep breath, "Planning on coming here, having me and leaving? The way I did you?"

       She fought to open her eye's, regret plain there for anyone to see, "yes."

       Darren kissed her lips gently, just brushing of lips to lips, and stroked her face, "Baby you're too tired for revenge tonight, you can get even with me tomorrow."

       She sighed, "You're not gonna throw me out - after knowing what I was gonna do?"

       "No," he said softly, kissing her cheek, "Sleep - we'll hash through the hard stuff tomorrow Querrida."

       He started to get up, and she made and effort to tighten her legs around him, wanting him to stay.

       "I'm just reaching down for Pepe," Darren told her, "He's looking for a way up."

       She relaxed, and Darren reached over the side of his bed, and pulled the little dog up. He'd grown a lot, double his size almost - but he was still a very small dog, and all of 6 pounds.

       Pepe walked around the bed, his nose twitching, pawing at the mussed sheets. He settled down next to Alexandra's head, setting his butt down, and sitting up on his front paws, as if standing guard.

       Darren pulled the blanket up over them, and slid his arms around Alexandra again. Her breathing changed moments later, and he knew she was asleep.

* * *

       Nikita hated crutches. Her armpits ached from the unusual pressure and pull of walking with them. But a wheelchair would be worse, and this was only temporary. Two weeks at the most.

        She hopped down to her office, after having spent the night in medlab. The doctor had been worried about what might be a low grade infection, so she spent the night with antibiotics flowing into her veins from an IV bag. Now, she was even farther behind than she thought she would be. She reached her office, and was tempted to close the door. People were less likely to bother her if her door was closed. But when she became a level 5 operative, she'd decided to have an 'open door' policy. If it cost her two hours, so be it.

       There were over 50 emails waiting for her. Most of them were status reports on recruits she was overseeing. One was from Madeline, she wanted to discuss Darren and Alexandra with Nikita. Nikita pushed that one onto the back burner in her mind. They'd work it out on their own, with or without Section One meddling in it.

       There was another one from wardrobe. She had measurements for Kristie, Kim, and Gail. The measurements for Alexandra were old - and she didn't know if they'd still be accurate considering some of the current rumors? Michael had submitted one style of Tux for the groomsmen, and Nikita another. Which one were they going to use? The style Michael submitted had the high band collars, no bow tie, black studs and vests. Nikita had submitted the standard cumberbundt and bow tie.

        Nikita sighed deeply. Poor Alex. She'd make sure the redhead went and got measured. Wardrobe was taking care of the bridesmaid's gowns and the tux's for the groomsmen. Nikita sent an email back to go with Michael's choice for the groomsmen.

        Hours later, having read status reports on her recruits, having met with some of the trainers, stood by and watched some of them perform tasks - it was time to go home. She had submitted for information for two profiles she was working on. She'd pull her email later and work on them from home.

        She hobbled back towards Michael's office. The door was closed, which wasn't unusual. The blinds were drawn though. She hesitated, then knocked.

       "Come in," Michael's voice called.

       Nikita pushed the door open. Michael sat behind his desk, Kim sat in a chair in front of his desk. The strawberry blond smiled up at Nikita, and glanced at her crutches, "Joining the ranks?"

       "Yeah!" Nikita said, "Where do I send the club dues?"

       "Send them to Kim's plant fund - I've got to get some growing things! I've decided that no matter who much of a pain it is living off site - I need sunlight and plants," Kim told her.

       Michael pulled out a chair for Nikita, took her crutches and set them up against a wall.

       "Got a place picked out yet?" Nikita asked her.

       "Madeline has two choices for me," Kim told her, "One of them has not so great lighting, but it's first floor - the other has an elevator and lots of natural light - so there really isn't much of a choice involved."

       Nikita nodded slowly, taking all this in, "So when's the big moving party? I'll help you direct people."

       Kim shook her head, "Nikita - all I've got is a few changes of cloths. I don't need a moving party, but I do need a catalog."

       "Catalog - that takes all the fun out of it," Nikita told her, "Alexandra and I are due for another big shopping trip as it is. We'll turn it into a shopping trip for Kim."

       Kim chewed her lip, "I hate to be a bother - and I keep things simple any way . . ."

       "There is no reason why you can't have fun keeping it simple," Nikita told her, "C'mon, it'll be fun! When do you get the keys?"

       "Tomorrow," Kim told her, "I . . . are you up to shopping? With your leg out of commission?"

       Nikita nodded, "All the big shopping centers have wheelchairs for rent. I'll Make Alex or Kristie push me around."

       Kim groaned, "Those two? Together? I'm not sure that's such a hot idea!"

       Nikita chuckled, "I think it's a great idea - It'll make Alex pull her head out of her butt for a few minutes. I bet it's only tense for the first half an hour. Then it'll all fade away."

       Kim stood up, "Ok - Hope you're right . . . I gotta go back to comm. I picked up an  few extra shifts so I could get a few days off for setting up my new place."

       Nikita watched Kim walk out of Michael's office, efficient and quick with the cane.

       "Did I miss some big blow out with Kristie and Alexandra in the hallway?" Nikita asked Michael.

       "Alex told Kristie they weren't friends, that no one has any real friends here. Then she promptly went to Darren's apartment, took him to bed, and passed out," Michael told him, "Last I checked, they were both still passed out."

       Nikita raised an eyebrow, "Checked?"

       Michael didn't want to address how he 'checked'. But he knew Nikita wouldn't let it go.

       "I checked surveillance - when it became obvious she wasn't going to slit his throat, I backed out. I checked on them a few hours later and they were asleep."

       Nikita swallowed hard, "Would she do it? Slit his throat?"

       Michael was silent, "I don't know . . . I can't get in her head Nikita. I know she feels like she can trust no one. I know she feels horribly betrayed . . ."

       Nikita sighed, "What's it gonna take to fix this . . ."

       "Time," Michael told her, "Are you ready to go home?"

       She nodded, "Yeah . . . but if you're busy I can wait."

       Michael shook his head, "Not at all."

       "I do have to do some work from home tonight, but not until later," she replied, and pulled herself up with the crutches Michael handed her.

       She waited for him to open the door, and they started down the hallway.

       "I was thinking I'd make Chicken alfredo tonight," Michael began.

       Nikita grinned, knowing that it was a dish where he wouldn't need any help, or want any. She could burn soup.

       Hours later . . .

       Nikita groaned, sat back and stretched, "I'm not at all happy with this profile."

       Michael had just set the last dish back into the cubbord. Nikita had been working on the sofa, her laptop in front of her.

       "Why?" Michael asked. Her tone of voice, what she said, told him that she didn't think she had any other options, and the ones she was presented with weren't acceptable to her.

       "Dante is my only level 4 operative right now," Nikita told him, "He's come a long way, but he's not ready to lead this kind of mission - and with me out of commission . . ."

       "Is Darren on the team?" Michael asked her.

       "He isn't close to ready either Michael. Not for this. We could take losses on this one. I've pulled abeyance ops for it - I don't want either one of them to be facing a mission with abeyance ops so early - and Darren hasn't finished his level 4 review. I doubt he'll get to level 4 any time soon after leaving the team to come back for me," Nikita told him.

       Michael sat down next to her on the sofa, "May I?"

       Nikita turned the lap top so he could look. He read the objectives, the Intel on the target, the site and recon reports. Security was top notch. They would lose people. This was the kind of mission Nikita hated the most. She didn't get many of them. Madeline tended to steer them away from Nikita, since she was still a new level 5 essentially.

       "They'll disband your primary operatives and farm them out to other teams while you're recovering," Michael told her, "For missions like this. Another level 5 will take it over."

       Nikita looked at him, "Disband my primary team?"

       "Temporarily," Michael told her.

       Nikita sighed, "Who do you think will get them?"

       "We all will," Michael told her, "Madeline and Operations will make the decision about who goes where. Some missions will be deprioritized, or handed off for level 4 cold ops to lead. Stephen is out of commission too."

       Nikita absorbed all this in, and worried over the effects this would have on her team. She allowed them a certain amount of leeway. They earned it. It only worked because of the personalities involved. She was spoiled and she knew it.

       Nikita sighed, and rested her head on Michael's shoulder, "That sucks."

       Michael couldn't help but smile. It was so like Nikita to make a judgment like that.

       "Ok, I'm tense, and I'm stressed. I want a massage," Nikita announced, "Hint Hint Michael."

       Michael stood up, and scooped her up, and headed for the bedroom. He set her down in the center of the bed, and reached for the waist band of her sweats, and drew them down over her hips slowly, the back of his hands stroking along her thighs as he went. Next, he pulled her T-shirt up and off, again, his fingers grazing her flesh, his knuckles brushing across her breasts, teasing her nipples.

        He bent forward, his lips brushing hers, "Turn over."

       Nikita was only too happy to do whatever he told her.

       She heard the rustle of clothing being shed, heard the sounds of a snap top bottle being opened. A moment later, Michael's hands firmly grasped her shoulders, covered in warm oil. She felt his hands kneed and squeeze, slowly working down her back, then her arms, working the tight muscles until they were loose and soft.

        Her eye's were heavy as he started up her legs, first one calf, then the next. He moved up the back of one thigh, and still, oblivion beckoned Nikita . . .

       His hand slipped between her thighs and

       Her eye's were heavy as he started up her legs, first one calf, then the next. He moved up the back of one thigh, and still, oblivion beckoned Nikita . . .

       His hand slipped between her thighs, high along the slight crease made there by her buttocks, and delved gently inside.  Allowing only his fingertips to graze the flaxen curls, he teased her, watching her body respond.  First, she trembled, he stroked her again.  Next, she arched her buttocks upward toward his hand.  Michael pulled away, not letting his fingers touch flesh...yet.  Nikita moaned, just slightly, urging him to please her.  Michael lowered his head over the silky skin of her behind, his

breath raising goosebumps on her flesh.  Heat eminated from her center, her scent reaching Michael, aroused woman.

         Hot lips touched her, lightly, the tip of his tongue snaking out to taste her skin.  Sweet and salty, the sheen of clean perspiration making her honey colored skin glow.  Nikita's hips twisted toward him, and he

opened his mouth, scraping her with his teeth, biting gently.  Nikita moaned again, and Michael heard her nails scrape on the bed sheets.  Dipping his tongue between her nether lips, he found her dripping wet, pulsing with her need.  Michael lifted his head and bit her again on the swell of her buttock, more firmly this time, seeing the slight impressions of his teeth on her skin.  Easing one finger into her, stroking the internal silk, enjoying the feel of her tight internal muscles gripping him, he slowly pumped it in and out.  

         Nikita cried out, not in pain, but in pleasure, as Michael bit once again, slightly harder than the times before.  She pushed back against him, forcing his finger further into her, and her flesh further into his mouth.  He moved his head slightly, biting in a different spot, driving his finger in and out like a piston, feeling her juices flow over his knuckles.  He knew that he was getting rough, and somewhere in the back of his mind, something tickled.  She used to say that she lived for the tender times that they shared.  He used to take his time, working her slowly to a fever, then easing into her slowly, prolonging their mutual pleasures.  Now, it seemed, she was always ready before he was, driving him to go harder, faster, rougher...and he knew that something had changed.  The time to test the waters had come, how far would she let him go?

       Michael knew that he was taking a chance, but this big of a change warranted some investigation.  If she stopped him quickly, he could put that strange nagging feeling to rest.  If not, some discussion would be following this round of lovemaking.

             He inserted another finger into her, and Nikita ground her hips into the mattress, groaning, pleading for release.  Michael eased upward on the bed, his head coming level with her shoulder.  He licked gently, wetting the smooth skin, then bit down, the same pressure that he had used on her rear. Nikita twisted her hips again, continuing to grind on his fingers, harder still, and didn't tell him to stop.  Gathering a slight bit of skin between his teeth, Michael started to bite down, breaking through the skin, tasting the tell tale coppery blood as it hit his tongue.  At the same time, he let his index finger slip out of her, and circle her clitoris.  Nikita cried out, the orgasm ripping through her, the pain blending with the pleasure into an intoxicating cocktail that quenched her need.  Michael continued to bite her, still tasting her life's essence in his throat, and watched, amazed, as she rode out her pleasure.  Her nails gripped the sheets, golden hair plastered to her now sweaty forehead, the low-throated moans coming from her throat as her hips circled, and circled again and again.  

            She rolled over, back flat, head tilted toward him, looking totally at peace.  The bandage around her wound had loosened slightly and a small trickle of blood ran from under it.  Her black lashes lay on her cheeks, a smile curled the sweet lips that he had longed to kiss so many times, and the golden hair started to curl on her forehead as it dried.  One of her hands raised and Michael felt her fingers tangle lazily into his hair, twining it this way and that as she rolled slightly to her side to face him. Azure eyes met his and she smiled, one of the sweetest smiles that Michael could remember, tearing his heart, and twisting his thoughts.  "That was amazing Michael..." spoken so softly, if he had not seen her lips move, he would have questioned his own hearing.    

        Hs eyes were drawn to where her shoulder had been pressed into the sheets a moment before.  The small scarlet stain beckoned him to ask questions that he didn't want to hear the answer to.

       Nikita pushed Michael over onto his back,  and leveraged her self over him on her arms and her good leg. Her mouth brushed his, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. She felt Michael's hands in her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp, but leaving her hair hanging down. She knew he liked the feel of her hair on his body.

       She moved her mouth lower, nipping and kissing his flesh as she went. She traced his jaw line, biting then kissing. She heard Michael's breathing becoming heavy and erratic. She crosses hid muscled chest, swirling her tongue over his tight little male nipple. He tensed a little, knowing what was going to come. He wondered what was going on in her head. Was this a method of acting out domination over him? Was it the thrill of being in control?

       Nikita nipped at the tiny bud, holding it between her teeth a moment longer than she had any of the other bites, then sucked on that same tender flesh. She reached down between them, her fingers coming through the small area of dark curls, her nails brushing, scratching the swollen hard shaft as she slipped lower. Michael moaned under her, struggling to keep his eye's focused, watching her face as she worked his body. Her actions were that of someone gorging on their drug of choice, a starved woman who'd been sat down before a buffet of her favorite foods.

       She rubbed him against her, her own juices making him slick, the tip rubbing along her own swollen nether lips, than along the cleft of her buttocks. He felt her fingers wrap around him, and she pushed his tip between her labia, stroking him over her clit.

       Michael knew her mind was on her own pleasure and his. Nothing else mattered right then. He could have laid there and just enjoyed it, been a passive partner, and she would not have cared.

       Her mouth moved to his other nipple, unmindful of the bruise that was already developing  on the nipple she just left behind. She stroked her tongue over him, then bit. Michael gasped, and thrust himself up against her, pressing against her clit hard. She started to suck on his nipple again, and Michael's knotted his hand in her hair. Control or aggression? What was she after?

       "Nikita," he groaned in pleasure, reaching down between them. He grabbed his swollen cock and started to stroke it along her sensitive flesh even faster, masturbating for her with his own member.

        "I want you inside me now," she hissed, "Now Michael!"

       She started to pull herself up, managing to straddle him, totally forgetting about her injured leg. Her sheath encased him easily, squeezing him almost painfully, she pushed herself up on her knee's, then sank back down on him, slamming her body down hard. Michael growled, the pleasure to intense. Reason was fast disappearing . . .

       And then his hand felt something sticky and warm. Blood seeped from her wound. Michael sat up, thinking about her injured leg. She struggled against him at first, thinking he meant to stop her.

       "Nikita," he knotted his hands in her hair. She moaned in pleasure. Michael felt the coil inside himself tighten. They were both going to come fast, and he knew it.

       "You're leg ma chere!" he warned her, gently extending it straight, so she couldn't put her weight on it. He slid his hand up her leg, and under her buttock, "I'll help you."

       She bucked against him, her mouth hard on his. She doesn't want me gentle at all . . .

       Michael helped her raise up and slam down on him, fighting to keep himself from coming before she did. He bent his head down, and took her nipple into his mouth, and nipped at her.

       That was it. She cried out in ecstasy, "Michael!" she screamed, digging her nails into his back. Michael continued to thrust into her, letting his own climax take him, reveling in the feel of her muscles clenching and milking out his own orgasm.

       With trembling hands he rearranged her, and they fell back against the bed, their bodies still trembling. What had caused this change in Nikita? Sex between them had gotten aggressive in the past, but not the way it was lately. In the past, aggression and sex was a rarity, usually a means to ending a fight, a means to burning off the worst tension.

       Michael's hands stroked her back, thinking over the last couple of months, wondering what  had changed, and when.

       Then it hit him. Robert Sadd, her target - when they'd gotten back from the Ranch. He tended to be a little rough with his women. Michael had been furious and worried when he got back from his mission to find Nikita gone on that one.

       And when she came back, things had been different in bed for them.

       Nikita stirred, draped across his chest, the two hickey's she'd inflicted on him already tender. He felt his temper rising, bile in this throat. His Nikita, and Sadd . . . had she enjoyed it? Was the reason they were different in bed now? Was she thinking about Sadd, when it was Michael straining inside her?

       "Michael," she murmured softly, almost dreamily. Her eye's were shut, her fingers splayed on his chest. He could see the bite mark on her shoulder. She'd inflicted a few on him other times, but never like this . . .

       "Nikita," he called softly, "What were you thinking of? When you were fucking me?"

       Her eye's opened, a frown creasing her forehead, "What?"

       Michael's hand stroked her back gently, "Thinks are different, the last couple months."

       "When did it become fucking and not making love?" she demanded.

       Michael caressed her face, "That's what I'm asking you."

       She started to pull away from him, but Michael grabbed her, and rolled on top of her, "What are you gonna do? Run away?"

       "It's never been just fucking Michael - not for me it hasn't," she snapped at him.

       Michael  cupped her face in his hands, "You used to like it the best between us when I was gentle. Now, I get rough, and you go insane . . ."

       "Every couple has changes in their sex life Michael," Nikita argued, "I just like to experiment - play . . . before Section I'd been with one man. Then it was  you - I don't even count the targets section sent me to because it's not by choice. I act, I do, I leave. I feel nothing for them."

       "What about Robert Sadd?" Michael asked her, stroking her cheek with is fingers, "You came back from that mission, and things changed."

       Nikita opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. Waves of guilt washed over her.

       "When you're with a target - and you come - does it mean anything?" Nikita asked him.

       "No, it's mechanics," Michael told her, "You came back from his bed and things changed."

       "I discovered something I liked Michael! I like it with you! I want it with you! I don't have your vast range of experience - I just want to play, and experiment with you," she told him.

       Michael watched her face, his fingers still tenderly stroking her, "You enjoyed the sex with Sadd?"

       "It was mechanics!" Nikita snapped at him, " I hated it the first few times. The last few part of it was ok! You can't hold that against me! In real life I wouldn't have ever been there!"

       Michael's eye's darkened, and he climbed off of her.

       "Don't you dare pull away from me now damn you!" Nikita snapped, grabbing his arm. He stopped, but his back remained to her.

       "You can't hold that against me! I don't hold Kim against you! Or Kristie! I found Kim in your office with the door shut, the blinds closed! Don't you think I'm painfully aware that you defied Section to spare their lives? The way you did with me?" Nikita yelled at him.

       "That's different," Michael snapped.

       "How is it different Michael? They were targets! Just like Sadd! But you saved them! You set Kristie free for a while, then fucked her and brought her back in! I never question you! Or that! Kim - you fucked her, and brought her in to a different substation! I never say anything, and I know you keep tabs on her, and on Kristie! I never question how you are with Alex -"

       Turned around, "You pushed me to befriend her!"

       "I pushed you to reach her! I didn't tell you to become her best friend! Darren notices how she runs to you -"

       "She's my material!"

       "So was I!" Nikita screamed at him, "The both of you spent 6 months morning the loss of loved ones! You can reach her the way no one else can! Do I freak out about it!"

       "No, but you damn near gave me permission!" Michael snapped at her, "Why is that? You said it would be understandable, under the circumstances - is there something you haven't told me Nikita? About you and Darren?"

       "Not a damn thing!" Nikita yelled at him, and rolled over to the far side of the bed. She grabbed up her cloths, and started to pull them on, "I trusted you! I trusted that you loved me! I was willing to let things go because of the life we lead!"

       She stood up, and grabbed his cloths up off the floor, "Get out!"

       Michael caught the bundle, and felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown at him. He yanked his cloths back on, and strode out the door.

       Nikita felt tears welling up, and she wiped them away, and tried to stay angry. But she couldn't. All she felt was cold, alone, shame.

       She hopped over to her dresser and got dressed, scooped up her crutches, and called a cab. Her car was still at Section.

       With her gun tucked inside her waist band, a light jacket over her shoulders and her purse over her shoulder, she made her way downstairs, and outside, the cab was just pulling up.

       Michael started his car, and followed the cab. The cab drove for 20 minutes, and on the far side of town, she got out of the cab, in the city park. It was well lit, but it was also late at night.

       Michael felt his heart clench in his chest. Was she meeting someone there?"

       He parked at the end of the block, and stayed in the shadows so he could watch unobtrusively. Nikita hopped along with her crutches, and made her way to the fountain. She sat on the side of it, laying her crutches down.

        Michael stayed in the shadow of a nearby tree to watch.

* * *

       The next morning . . .

        "Leaving?" Darren's voice said softly.

       Alexandra almost flinched. Almost, but she resisted. She had just pulled on her second boot. Pepe sat quietly by the door.

       "Yep," She said calmly.

       "Don't we have something to talk about here?" Darren asked her, sitting up, "I mean - you've only been back a few days, you come here and we say less than ten words and end up making love -"

       "It was sex Darren," Alexandra corrected, and turned her back on him.

       Darren leapt out of the bed, grabbed her arm and spun her around. He pressed her back into the wall, his hands cupping under her butt and lifting her, his nude body pinning her back against the wall. His mouth hungrily devoured hers. She was powerless to resist. She kissed him back, her hands stroking up his back, over his buttocks.

       Darren broke the kiss then, but held her there, up against the wall, "Tell me again to my face, that it's just sex between us."

       Alexandra looked away from his face, "Its - just - sex."

       Darren grasped her jaw, turning her face to his, "To my face."

       They stared at each other for several long moments, "You or the next guy, I get off, I'm happy."

       Darren felt his temper boiling like fire in his veins. She was doing it on purpose he knew, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

       "You just keep telling yourself that Alex," Darren told her, "The next man you take to bed - won't come close to what we did last night. So revel in your revenge, and get over it. I won't tolerate this shit long!"

* * *

       Kim could feel the tension in the air, it was so palpable. At first she thought it was because Kristie and Alexandra were within 10 feet of each other. It soon became apparent neither woman cared that the other was there.

       Kim looked over at Birkhoff and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. He didn't know what was going on.

       Then Nikita hopped over. The tension level went up.

        Darren appeared, going through a mission profile with Nikita. Stephen appeared then, and he brushed against Kristie. She glanced over at him, and for a brief moment, heat shown visibly in her eye's. It quickly disappeared.

       Dante walked up, his gaze raking over Alexandra. She caught him, and he smiled apologetically. She did a little turn for him, grinning back.

       The tension level went up. Darren watched him, his expression calm, deadly calm. Kim wondered if she'd be safer under the table.

       Michael walked over, and said something quietly to Alexandra. She sighed deeply, and looked away, then at Darren, and back at Michael.

       Nikita looked over at them, her expression calm, unreadable.

       Darren watched them, his expression the same as Nikita's.

       Michael said something else softly to Alexandra, turned, and started out. Nikita was just starting to leave. Michael paused to let her pass.

       "Who were you going to meet last night?" Michael asked her, point blank.

       Nikita stiffened, and stopped, "Excuse me?"

       "You heard me," Michael said calmly.

       "You followed me?!" She snapped at him.

       "You were upset, and at the moment you're at a decided disadvantage," Michael told her, "What's his name?"

       Everyone stopped moving, intently watching the couple who seemed to be oblivious to the small group watching them.

       "I went to the park to go fuck every cold op in Red cell, Legion, and the Freedom League Michael! Next week I'll move on to Red Sun!" She snarled, "Maybe I should start asking you about every little conversation you have with the women cold ops here? Care to tell me what you and Alex were just chatting about."

       "A personal matter for Alex," Michael told her, purposely leaving it vague.

       "How personal," Darren demanded, his voice soft but firm. He stood up straight, next to Nikita.

       Alexandra cleared her throat, "Kristie - is this what you'd call a dick measuring contest?"

       Kristie took a deep breath. She wanted no part of this. But she was sure Alexandra was trying to shut them all down.

       "Bingo," Kristie said evenly, "Kita - you're competing in the wrong arena."

       Nikita pushed past Michael, and started down the hall, "Alex - sorry to intrude, but watch the boundaries."

       Alexandra stood up straight, and started after Nikita.  Both Darren and Michael grabbed opposite arms. They realized what they did immediately.

       "Leave her alone Rouge," Michael said softly, "She's angry at me, not you."

       "Boundaries?!" Alexandra snapped, and yanked her arms out of their hands, "Boundaries? I never - I  . . . the whole lot of you amaze me! I . . I never . . ."

       "You did say, me or the next guy, you get off, you're happy," Darren reminded her, reaching up to stroke her cheek tenderly.

       "What? You wanna watch?" She said tartly, "I asked him to send me out on assaults. I'm tired of being a whore! Are you happy now?"

       Kim cleared her throat, "You're all attracting a lot of attention folks!"

       All three of them looked up to Operations observation deck. They all started off in different directions.

* * *

       "We have two level 5 cold ops on medical restrictions, and because of the games you and Jonathan played while I was gone, three very effective teams are now torn apart," Madeline snapped at him.

       Operations looked at her, "If we'd never allowed this to happen in the first place -"

       "That wedding has to take place, " Madeline told him, "We need effective two man teams - and right now, we don't have them! Are you satisfied? We have two big missions in the works and several others that are still important - and they're ready to claw each others eye's out!"

       "This would never have been a problem if -"

       "Yes it would," Madeline snarled at him, "They'd have hidden it. That's how it started. These aren't dogs to be trained or put to sleep at will! You're messing around with the future of Section here! From here on out! Every profile involving the six of them gets run through me! I'll go over your head to George if I have to!"

* * *

       Tony sank down in a chair next to Kim, "Damn! And we spend 7 bucks to go see a movie!"

       Kim laughed, and looked over at him, "I should have sold tickets, huh?"

       Tony nodded, "Geez! I thought the tension in the air was heavy  - but I had no idea! Damn! So when are you outta here?"

       She looked at her watch, "About ten minutes actually."

       "Cool - I've  been checking out this Italian place a few blocks from my place," he began.

       Kim shook her head, "Tony I . . . this is gonna sound lame  - but I am working with three pair's of Jeans and T-shirts here."

       "Nothing to wear?" he said, "C'mon - it's not that fancy."

       Kristie cleared her throat, "I have this cute outfit on my dresser in my quarters here . . . I mean, someone ought to get some use out of it."

       Kim opened her mouth to protest, but just then Alexandra appeared in front of her, "You don't go out and have some fun, and I'm gonna lock you in a room with Me, Darren, Nikita and Michael, and make you keep score."

       Kristie turned around, surprised Alexandra was back so quickly.

       "You're outgunned Kim," Tony told her, "I learned a long time ago you never cross a group of women."

       "I'll meet you at Kristie's room in 15 minutes," Alexandra told her, then looked at Kristie, "I'll go liberate a makeup kit from wardrobe."

       "Oh no," Kim protested, "That's going to far."

       Alexandra ignored her, and started towards wardrobe.

       Kim was still protesting when Kristie started pulling her down the hall. She gave up by the time they reached Kristie's door.

       Alexandra was there a moment later, reaching the door just before it closed.

       "Ok, lets see this outfit," Alexandra said, setting the box she'd brought from wardrobe down on the dresser.

       Kristie pulled out along skirt, split on one side up to the hip, dark blood red. A vest style top, sleeveless, the same color.

       "What size shoe do you wear?" Kristie asked her.

       "Seven," Kim answered.

       "Perfect," Kristie pulled a pair of strappy high heels out of the closet.

        Alexandra started to unpack the box she'd brought from wardrobe, "What do you think Kristie? Hair up, hair down?"

       "French role, with a little tendril down on each side," Kristie told her, "She has thick hair - so she can pull it off."

       Kim stood there, "Uh . . . can I get the two of you to turn around? so I can change?"

       Kristie looked at Alexandra, and they both turned around. They heard the rustling of fabric for a few moments.

       "Ok, I'm dressed."

       She was sitting down on the side of Kristie's bed, sliding her feet in the shoes.

       Kristie grabbed a brush and  can of hair spray, and climbed around behind Kim, and started to arrange her hair.

       Alexandra squatted down in front of her, "Ok, close your eye's."

       Kim felt like she was being railroaded, painted and trussed up. But she tolerated, the prospect of actually going out seemed really appealing to her at the moment. How long had it been since she'd gone out?

        Kristie arranged her hair, and used two black enamel chop sticks to secure it, Alexandra did her makeup, eye shadow, liner, base, mascara and lipstick.

       When they pulled her in front of the mirror, the past came rushing back to Kim in waves. It was like looking at herself years ago, before Section . . .

       Kristie opened up a small black purse, and shoved Kim's wallet into it, and a tube of lipstick.

       "Hey, don't forget the condoms," Alexandra said, "You got any? I got some in my room if you don't-"

       "Oh I am always prepared," Kristie said, yanking open her drawer. She pulled 5 wrapped packets out, and dumped them into the purse.

       "Oh no," Kim said, "No way."

       "Hey, you don't have to use them," Kristie said, "Just in case - you know? I mean - if you're both rearing to go - you'd be pissed you didn't have them!"

       Alexandra nodded, "Besides - sex happens when you least expect it."

       "With the people you least expect it," Kristie added.

       Kim swallowed hard. There was no way in hell she was going to let Tony see her in the nude. She'd written off sex years ago, after Devin had been turned off by her scars.

       Tony poured her fourth glass of wine, and his hand came to rest on her bar thigh. Kim started, but didn't push him away.

       "I'll back off," He said lightly, his fingers stroking her knee.

       Kim didn't want him to back off though. She hadn't had a drink in years either, and she knew the wine was going to her head.

       "No," she said gently, "I . . . it's ok, I kinda like it."

       Tony's fingers gently squeezed her thigh, then kept stroking over her knee, "So tell me about home and life before you worked for the company.

       Kim sighed, and sipped the glass, "I shouldn't drink this . . ."

       "I'll take care you," Tony told her, "So talk to me. Tell me about home."

       "Home . . ." she smiled to herself, "North of Seattle. I used to go out a couple times a week then though. I had two favorite haunts. Club Broadway and Charley Mac's."

       "Dance clubs?" Tony asked her.

       "Of course," Kim replied, "The bar tender started making my drink when I walked through the door. Captain Morgan's and coke. I had a good size group of friends. I dated. I worked as a clerk in an insurance office . . ."

       She downed the last of her wine. He topped of his glass, and filled hers, and their second bottle was empty.

       Kim drank it down, telling him about what she did, what life was like before Section. They finished the last of the wine, and got into the cab.

       "I can't take you back to your place like this Kim," Tony whispered, "You can crash at my place. Evaluate my lack of plant life."

       Kim laughed, realizing just how buzzed she was. How long had it been since she'd had a drink? Let alone 5?

       "No plants at all in your apartment?" she asked him, leaning into his side "Now that is a sin! We'll have to fix that!"

       His arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers tracing where the vest left her arm bare, "Something that's low maintenance - so if I forget to water it one day it won't die."

       "What you need is a cactus!" she told him, "You can be gone for weeks and it won't care!"

       The cab pulled up in front of an apartment building, and Tony slipped the driver the required amount of money through the slot, and helped Kim out of the cab.

       "So this is where you live when you're not out saving the world with the rest of them," Kim said softly, looking up at the tall high-rise building.

       "Yep," Tony said, sliding his arm around her waist, his hand slipping up along her hip so his fingers rested on flesh under the vest top, along the waistband of the skirt, "Me and probably 100 other city dwellers."

       Kim was a little wobbly on her feet, combining the heels, the need for a cane and the fact that she was feeling the effects of the wine. But somehow she managed to navigate the stairs, and walk the short distance to the elevator.

       Tony's apartment was on the fourth floor, and down the hall near the fire escape. She leaned on him heavily as they walked down the hallway. Tony kept his arm tightly around her, his fingers stroking her flesh at her waist. Kim felt a familiar stirring inside her, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel for a long time.

       He got the door open, and she felt his attention shift away as they stepped inside the apartment. His eye's roved back and forth, checking it. Always the cold op, she thought to herself. But she could understand that.

       He closed the door behind them, turned to see Kim sitting back in the sofa, propping her feet on the foot rest, "Cute shoes, but I wouldn't wear them every day!"

       Tony chuckled, and shrugged off his blazer, loosened his tie, "Let me help you then."

       He pulled the foot rest farther out and sat down on it, and lifted her foot, and slipped the shoe off of her foot, then moved to the other foot.

       Slowly, watching her face, he slid his hand up her leg, on the side where she wore the split in the skirt, almost to the apex of her thighs, and hooked his fingers in the band that held the stockings in place. He slowly eased the hose down her thigh, her calf, and off of her foot, and started his hands up her other leg, his hands stroking her leg as he went.

       "Aren't you glad they were thigh highs?" Kim teased him, her voice having gone a little husky.

       Tony grinned at her, "It wouldn't have stopped me if they hadn't been."

       Kim raised an eyebrow, watching him, feeling him, his hands on her. Velvet brown eye's watching her intently, his hand caressing her as he eased the stocking down her leg. He switched back to the other leg then, and started to massage her foot, pressing his thumbs into the ball of her foot, stroking down to her heel. Pressing and rubbing her instep. He moved to her ankle then, her calf, kneading the muscles as he went. He moved up over her knee, then up her thigh.

       Her breathing became a little more rapid, her flesh seamed to be heated. Tony grinned. Miss cool as a cucumber was reachable after all.

       He worked his way up to the panty line, and then started on the other foot. Her eye's flew open when he moved on to the other foot, disappointment flashing in her blue eye's, and maybe a little bit of fear. He moved slowly, carefully, each movement of his hand a caress, a stroke. But as he started to reach mid way up her thigh, she tensed up.

       "Hey," Tony said softly, "What's wrong?"

       "I . . . it's . . . you know I've got  . . . some scars . . . right?" She asked him, looking away.

       Tony nodded, "Yeah . . . is that what's really bothering you?"

       She kept her eye's averted, "They're pretty bad Tony . . .I just don't want that to be the first thing you think of, when you see me."

       Realization hit him like ton of bricks. Cocky, confident Kim who'd avoided the gym, didn't flirt with men, who used to go dancing and go to clubs. Someone had made her feel self conscious about the scars she had - and here he was, groping her leg.

       Tony eased off the foot rest so he was kneeling before her, "Kim - I don't give a shit about a few scars or 100 of them."

       He was kneeling between her legs then, and one hand reached up for button on the vest top, "But if you don't want to do this, that's ok too."

       He undid the bottom button on the vest, and parted the bottom of the top, and pressed his lips to her stomach.

       Kim felt the fire smoldering in the pit of her stomach fan and spread throughout her body. He undid another button with his free hand, the other still resting on her thigh, his mouth never leaving her stomach, just moving up a little as he more fabric parted.

       A third button came undone, and he lifted his head, looking up at her, his eye's asking for permission.

       Kim wetted her parted lips with the tip of her tongue, and bent down, brushing a tentative kiss on his lips. Tony kissed her back, his kiss gentle, exploring, tasting. He felt her fingers sliding up through the short hairs on his scalp, and his free hand undid the last button of her top, brushing it open. He cupped her through her bra, and felt and heard her breath catch in her throat.

       "You ok?" He asked gently. Watching her face.

       "Why am I half undressed, and not you?" she asked him.

       Tony pulled his shirt from his slacks, and tossed it off, his undershirt following it. He couldn't help but smile seeing Kim's eyes greedily roving over his chest and stomach. That was one benefit of Section. He always looked good.

       He gently eased the vest top off her shoulders, and pressed his lips to the top curve of her breast, his fingers working the clasp of her bra in back.

        Kim felt the band around her ribs go slack, felt the straps being eased off her shoulders. He nudged the fabric down more as his lips moved down, then sat back to look at her.

       His gaze met hers, and he slipped one finger into his mouth, wetting it, and stroked it over her already erect nipple, then the other. Then he lowered his mouth to her breast, taking the hardened peak between his lips, his tongue swirling over it.

       Kim thought she was going to go insane with all the sensations assaulting her at once. It has been so long since someone had touched her so intimately, let alone with such affection. She felt the zipper on the skirt being drawn down, and she tensed for a moment.

       But then Tony's mouth returned to hers, and he kissed her a little harder, hungrier, more passionate. His hand cupped her breast, his fingers tweaking her nipple. He pulled her off the sofa, and eased the skirt down over her hips.

       Tony felt her stiffen in his arms, "Relax," he said soothingly, pressing the length of her body against his, "Look at me Kim."

       She looked up at him, passion glazed eyes unable to hid the fear she felt.

       "I don't care about a couple scars - hell, I've got my fair share myself," He told her, and pulled them both up. He scooped her up, now only clad in her panties, and started towards his bedroom. But he stopped suddenly.

       "Oh shit!" He swore loudly, "I don't have one god damn condom!"

       "I do!" Kim laughed nervously, "Kristie and Alexandra shoved some in my purse - five of them."

       "Five?" Tony chuckled, "Hell, you expect a lot out of a guy don't you!"

       He walked them over to the sofa, and she reached down, scooping up the little purse.

       Tony carried her into the bedroom, and set her down in the center of the bed. He shed his slacks, shoes and socks, and climbed onto the bed, moving over her on his hands and knee's.

       His mouth caressed hers, his lips firm on hers, hungry with passion. He cupped her breasts, his fingers teasing the erect peaks, and then one hand slid down her stomach, and into her panties.

       He felt her flinch as he parted her, but she didn't push him away or off. He found her wet, but not as wet as she should have been. But he knew she was nervous.

       He started to pull her panties down and off of her, and she became really tense just then. Her panties hid the scars on her hip. He'd moved farther down on the bed, so his face was almost level with her hips, and he forced himself to look, and steeled himself not to react.

       There was a thick white suture line running across her hip, and the rest of the flesh looked little . . . mottled, for lack of a better word. Some of the skin farther up her hip looked almost melted. He knew it was the result of burns, and skin grafts.

       But it wasn't horrific looking either. He bent his head down, and pressed his lips to her scarred hip, not sure if she could feel his lips, but he knew she would feel the pressure if nothing else, knew she could see him. He could tell her in every language he knew that it didn't look bad, but he knew that someone else's actions had made her gun shy.

       So his actions would have to speak louder than words.

       He traced the scar line with his lips, down her hip, then around to the inside of her thigh. He parted her with his fingers, his breath hot on her labia, her flesh now hot with her own need. He stroked his tongue along the inside of one thick lip, then the other, then he circled her clit with his tongue. He slid one finger inside her sheath, and felt her body contract around him. She gasped and moaned, her body arching up to him. She was very close, so close. He felt her fluids oozing down over his finger.

       He reared up over her, tearing off his boxer shorts, and reaching for one of the condom's that had been dumped on the bed. He rolled it down his now hardened shaft, and positioned himself just her vaginal opening.

       "If I hurt you," he whispered, "You gotta tell me."

       She nodded, sliding her hands up his arms, "Hurry - please! I'm . . . I really want . . ."

       Tony's lisp brushed hers, his tongue flicking across hers, his lips leaving hers wet.

       He pushed inside her a little, and stopped, feeling her body clench around him. He eased back, then forward, a little farther each time,  slowly letting her body adjust to take all of him. He felt her stretch slightly, but her movements weren't characteristic of someone in pain. Instead, she writhed below him, obviously lost to her own pleasure.

       Finally, she was taking in all of him, and he lowered his body more over hers, wanting to feel her breast pressed into his chest, her mouth on his. His tongue parted her lips as he stroked in and out of her, and soon she was meeting his thrusts with thrusts of her own. He struggled and fought himself to hold back, wanting her to reach her climax first.

        It didn't take long. Her muscled spasm around him, and he couldn't resist any longer. His own release came, shaking him from deep with in.

* * *

       It was 6:00 am when Tony drove them back to Section. She'd showered at his place, but she didn't have a change of cloths. So now she raced down the hall as quickly as she could, for her own quarters.

        She rounded the corner, and ran right into Michael and Kristie. Kristie was dressed in work out cloths, as was Michael. Both of them looked at Kim. Kristie grinned, Michael's face remained impassive.

       "Just getting back?" Kristie asked her.

       "Uh . . .yeah," Kim said, and felt her face flush, "I uh . . . we were drinking, so I . . ."

       Kristie laughed, "Got laid I hope?"

       Kim groaned, "Jesus Kristie! I feel like a highschool kid who's been caught climbing back in her bedroom window! I gotta go change cloths!"

       Kim stepped around them. Kristie watched the other woman disappear down the hall.

       "She better have gotten laid! Alex and I worked on her for an hour!"

       Michael glanced from where Kim had turned another corner to Kristie, and asked, "Tony?"

       "Yep," Kristie told him, "My outfit, I did her hair, Alex did her makeup, and we sent her out of here with 5 condoms. He's a nice guy - he better be - otherwise Alex and I fed her up to an asshole!"

       Michael didn't know Tony well. Nikita liked him, thought he was an ok guy over all. He trusted her judgment, most of the time.

       "Anyway, I stopped you to talk to you about Nikita," Kristie said, "I know it's between you two . . . but I just hate to see you bust up . . . especially now."

       Michael sighed, "It's something we have to work out on our own . . . I have a jealous streak. I let it get out of control again."

       Kristie cocked her head to one side, "Most women like a little bit of that you know."

       Michael shook his head, "Not this much. Trust me. I followed her because I know she walks when she's angry. I thought she might have called someone to meet her at the park. No one showed though, and after two hours, she left."

       "And last night?" Kristie asked him.

       "She stayed home," Michael told her.

       Kristie sighed, "So you're still watching her then  . . . that's why she's pissed."

       "She's also disabled right now," Michael reminded Kristie, his voice had an edge to it.

       "Well, whatever it was that got to you two, go make nice. Jeremy was flirting a little too much yesterday, and Nikita had to tell him to back off three times. Then Darren got in Jeremy's face. I thought we were gonna have a good old fashioned bar brawl on our hands," Kristie told him.

       Michael felt his pulse quicken. Jeremy . . . he was always looking at Nikita, Kristie and Alexandra, or leering.

       Michael only nodded for Kristie though, and asked, "You and Rouge are getting along?"

       "Most of the time, as long as we don't have to really talk, and there are other people around," Kristie told him, "I'm getting used to being a pariah."

       Michael sighed, "Kris, I know that you and Darren didn't want that to happen - give her time. She feels like trash because she spends over half her missions being  pawed and mauled by men that disgust her. Then after you and Darren and that tape - she feels tossed aside. Her ego is non-existent right now."

       Kristie sighed, and managed a smile, "Well, now that Stephen pulled his head out of ass and you believe me, all that leaves is Alex. The rest of Section can rot."

       Kristie turned away, and left. Michael hit the locker room.

       Hours later, he found himself walking by planning. Nikita stood, leaning on her crutches, talking to Jeremy. She didn't look distressed. He pulled out a chair for her, and then pushed it in. His hand patted her back as he moved away.

       Michael felt his blood boil, but he couldn't do anything in Section. Not without causing a scene. Nikita never turned and saw Michael. He forced himself to walk away. It was time for some sparing practice.

       "Need a partner?" Alexandra asked, walking up behind Michael as he walked into the area reserved for martial arts training.

       Michael took a deep breath, "you don't want to partner me right now."

       Alexandra stopped in her tracks. Michael didn't lose his temper often - let alone admit he needed to burn off steam.

       "Cool, I'll hang out and wait for another victim then," Alexandra said softly, moving to stand back against the wall.

       She stood by and watched while Michael started to practice with the one of the martial arts instructors. He was big, fast, and strong. A good match for Michael's temper right now. Alexandra felt herself pressing her body back against the wall. Michael fought hard, the instructor fought back just as hard. Punch block, kick block, punch kick, sweep. The instructor signaled he was done. The both stood there, chest's heaving, gasping for air.

       "Rest 5 minutes," the instructor told him, "Alex needs to practice her defense."

       Michael nodded, and started to stretch.

       "Are you having trouble with your defense?" Michael asked her after a few moments.

       Alexandra nodded, "I'm not feeling as strong as I should be."

       Michael moved back over to his line, "I'll attack."

       She nodded, and waited.

       A few moments passed, then he made his move. She blocked and struck back, but concentrated on blocks and counter punches. Michael tested her reaction time, pushing her harder and harder, until she was backing up. She started to realize she was being backed up against the wall, Michael was advancing. She'd allowed herself to get into a bad position.

       Suddenly, he managed to get a hold her wrist, yanked her off balance, spun her around, and shoved her into the padded wall.

       "You're distracted!" Michael's snapped behind her, not letting her up of the wall, "What were you thinking about!?"

       "Nothing!" She gasped out, "I just . . .I need more practice at all."

       "You're better than this!" Michael snapped, "What were you thinking about?!"

       "Nothing!" She gasped, "I just-"

       "Do Not lie to me Rouge!" Michael snarled at her, "We can stand here like this all day!"

       Alexandra struggled, but he held fast. He would hold her like this for hours too.

       "Carlson!" she finally gasped out, "I was thinking about Brian Carlson! I can't get him out of my head!"

       Michael released her, and stepped back from the wall.

       She dropped down, and swept his legs. Michael fell back, genuinely surprised. Alexandra leapt up off the floor, and started calmly towards the door.

       The last Michael saw of her was her red hair, disappearing out the door.

* * *

       Michael heard the knock, and was about to tell whomever it was to come in, but the door opened before he had a chance.

       It was Darren that stepped through.

       "I'm about to overstep myself again Michael," Darren began.

       Michael sighed, "Don't."

       Darren actually chuckled, "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that there is some little jealousy thing going on with you and Nikita. I spend a lot of time with her - because she's my mentor, because I'm being trained on new things . . . whatever it is, you got nothing to worry about. The only man she sees as a man - is you. And believe me, a lot of men are trying to catch her eye right now."

       Michael sighed, "Who?"

       Darren was exasperated, "Jeremy, Ryan, Dan - every other level 5 except Stephen."

       Michael looked back at the screen. He hadn't been able to concentrate well since they'd argued. It was affecting his work. He fully expected to hear from George or Madeline soon. He was surprised Operations hadn't made some snide comment.

       "Michael - I'm here as your friend - a novel concept for you I know - but you gotta fix this. Whatever it is - get over it!" Darren said.

       "Sit down," Michael said, "How would you feel if a target was able to do something for Alex in bed - and you never found out about it for months?"

       "I'd include it if she liked it," Darren said, "Shit - is that what happened? She hasn't been on that type of mission since . . . . oh god. That Sadd guy . . ."

       Michael couldn't believe he was talking to Darren, let along anyone else about this. But Nikita had somehow changed him. In making him need her, she'd made him need an occasional friend too.

        "Michael - When I was whigged about seducing a target once - Anna - and I was seeing Alex, you reminded it was just sex - mechanics. You said that if I was going to have a personal life, I  had to separate it from my life in Section. I couldn't look at one as a betrayal to the other. That's what you have to do. It's not like she went back for more. It's not like she turned you out of her bed . . ."

       Michael sighed, "No . . . she didn't."

       "If you have to seduce a target - does she hold it against you if you enjoyed it? I mean - lets face it, we're guys. It's pretty much a sure thing that we're gonna get off," Darren pointed out.

       "I'll talk to her tonight," Michael replied, "When was the last time you actually spoke to Alex?"

       "You were there for the last bit of conversation we had. Before that, told me in no uncertain terms that me or the next guy, she didn't care anymore. Before that it was in the hallway after she debriefed. I'm not exactly scoring major points with her lately."

       "She's affection starved right now," Michael told him, "Get possessive, but don't go so far that you're starting fights in Section."

* * *

       Madeline sighed deeply, when Michael walked in. Section was in chaos as always. There were always flings gone bad, romances gone bad. Misunderstandings. The rumor mill ran wild. Madeline once thought that if half the rumors that flew around were true, none of their operatives would be strong enough for duty. Common business sense dictated that they not allow relationships to develop.

       But this wasn't a common business. Some of them functioned better with the emotional support. It was the best - and certainly safest way to burn off stress for many of them. These were all people who had demonstrated an ability to function outside the rules.

       So the romances, the affairs, the rumors ran wild. As long as they could do their job, Section didn't care. When it became a problem, operations threatened cancellation. When that didn't work, Madeline became a therapist.

       That was only part of the reason that Michael had been called in. Darren would be here in another 10 minutes.

       "Have a seat Michael," Madeline told him, pouring a cup of tea, "I mean it."

       Michael sat down, his back rigid straight. He knew what this would be about.

       "This wedding has to take place," Madeline told him, "What's the problem."

       Michael's face remained emotionless, "Nothing has been canceled."

       "Really? Then why was wardrobe told to not finish the dresses? She called Nikita to schedule fittings, and Nikita told her not to bother."

       Michael felt his heart twist in his chest. This was not happening. They were already married for Christ sakes!

       But she had once said she felt like they weren't - because they'd used assumed names . . .

       "I'll take care of it," Michael answered.

       Madeline took a deep breath, "Perhaps I could help."

       Michael didn't want Madeline anywhere near this. Nikita would totally flip out on him if she thought he'd gone to anyone. The only reason he'd discussed it with Darren was because he knew Darren wouldn't carry the tale elsewhere.

       "You're possessive Michael. If that's the problem, loosen the reigns. Nikita is a monogamous creature. I don't know what the root of the problem is, but I doubt she'd going to meet Red cell, legion the freedom league and later on Red sun in the park for a tryst," Madeline told him, "You can dissolve the marriage after the mission is completed if that's what the two of you want."

       Michael schooled his features into a calm, neutral expression, "Has she spoken to you?"

       "No," Madeline told him, "She won't come to me either. If I summon her to my office, I doubt it would do any good. She'll forgive you for just about anything Michael. If some infidelity has taken place outside-"

       "What am I supposed to feel - when I find out she enjoyed sex with a target?" Michael burst out, before he could stop himself, "How do you deal with that?"

       "It's just sex Michael," Madeline reminded him, "She's young still. Her background, aside from the crime we brought her in for, is very innocent. It wasn't until a year and a half ago that she had to start sleeping with the occasional target, and we avoid making her do it because of her mental makeup. Even Alex is much more functional after a similar mission than Nikita. If she enjoyed sex with a target, perhaps he did something the two of you don't. She is still in her experimental phase. These  phases can come up again throughout your lives. If you allowed it, I'm sure you'd find yourself in similar circumstance. The way you are with Nikita, is vastly different than you were with Simone."

       Michael felt very exposed. Madeline had pulled surveillance.

       The door chimed. Madeline hit a few keys, and Darren stepped through the door.

       "Have a seat," Madeline told him, "I need to talk to you about Alexandra and Carlson."

       Darren forced himself not to react. He didn't want to hear word one about Carlson and Alexandra.

       He sat down next to Michael and took the cup of tea Madeline poured for him. What he wanted to do was throw it.

       "George greenlisted Carlson. Carlson's one condition was that Alexandra be his Section One contact."

       Darren felt his stomach turn over. Michael didn't know he could worry any more. But he just discovered he could.

       "She's not ready for this," Michael replied, "He'll toy with her. As you anticipated, she's little confused."

       "Her hormone imbalances should be subsiding," Madeline told them, and leveled her gaze on Darren, "If she doesn't get pregnant again, that shouldn't be a problem. He can provide us with a lot of Intel we wouldn't otherwise get. Had it been my decision, I'd have disposed of him. My fear is that because of his obsession with Alexandra, he may try to take her out of Section, and turn Section over to another terrorist organization. We can't get around his demands because of George. When she meets him, I want one or the other of you tailing them. If you are caught, she can write it off as a protective mentor or jealous lover."

       Darren took a deep breath, "He gutted his banker. What's to say he won't dispose of Alex out of revenge?"

       "Because he's in love with her," Madeline told him, "He told us everything we wanted to know to save her. With you and Michael tailing her, and a tracker in place, I think we can minimize the risk."

       "When does she meet with him?" Michael asked.

       "Tonight," Madeline told him, "Here's the profile. He's been given the resources to clean up the mess made when we pulled him in. She's going to get a status report from him."

* * *

       "Nikita," Michael said softly, "I need help."

       Nikita's head snapped up. Michael never asked for help, "What's wrong?"

       "Carlson's been green listed," Michael told her, "Alex is to be his section contact. It was the only way he'd agree to it with George. She's not going to take this well."

       Nikita sighed, "No, she won't . . . didn't he gut his banker? Is George aware of this?"

       "Yes, but he's thinking about the Intel we can get. She'll be implanted with a tracker, long term. Subcutaneous, like the one she had before," Michael told her, "But Section has no intention of telling her about it. She has to meet with him tonight."

       Nikita sighed deeply, "Have you told her?"

       "No, I wanted to tell her with you there," Michael explained.

       "Sure," she said, "Who's going to tail her tonight?"

       "I will," Michael told her, "Darren and I will work in tandem."

       Nikita nodded slowly, "Good idea."

       They stared at each other for a few moments.

       "I want to talk to you sometime tonight," Michael told her, "It's important."

       Nikita sighed, "I don't think we have anything to talk about - not after we spewed everything on the table the other night . . . but I'll listen for a few minutes."

       * * *

       Alexandra rubbed her arm where the needle went in. More blood tests. She was so tired of blood tests. She was tired of a lot of things.

       She dressed in a flip skirt, a crop top, a waist length jacket to hide her holster. Pepe would not be going with her this time. She didn't want to risk him with Carlson. Michael had equipped her with a panic tracker. If she slammed her boot on it's heel, it would activate.

       She carried a small purse with her. Id, some cash, a credit card, and a couple condoms. She shivered, thinking about them, that she might need them. Part of her really wanted to need them, part of her didn't want to. He wasn't Darren after all. He didn't have Darren's ability to make her insane.

       But he'd been nice to her - treated her well. The sex was good, but not great. Then she thought about the banker.

       An hour later, she met him in a restaurant across town. It was a place of her choosing. She would retain control on this. She called him 15 minutes before the meet and gave him this new location. He agreed, no arguments.

       He was in the restaurant, sitting at a table by himself. His new body guards were standing back. Alexandra watched them closely as she walked in.

       She also watched Carlson. He couldn't take his eye's off of her. He stepped off his bar stool, and moved to hug her. She knew he felt the straps under her jacket, but she also knew that wasn't the purpose of the hug.

       "I've been worried about you," he said softly, into her ear, "I was afraid of what they would do to you."

       "Why?" she asked, stepping back from the hug, "I work for them, not you."

       Carlson sighed, "So you do. I never would have guessed in a million years. Section One . . . the super spooks of the industry."

       She sighed, "I'm here to get a status report Brian. Lets get that out of the way, and then we can talk - if you want."

       He pulled a stool for her, and sat down across her, "Wine?"

       "No," she told him, "Ice tea. I'm not in the mood to drink."

       He ordered a glass of ice tea for her, "Status report. I'm back in business. I have a few orders going. The world thinks that I took out my entire body guard staff, and cleaned house, took out a few enemies, then resurfaced. Section has me looking more brutal than even I could conceive of - but it's effective."

       "Good," Alexandra said calmly, "I have a card for you. It's my contact number. No one in Section contacts you other than me - or Michael. Michael knows that the password is Kitsen - my birth name. Don't be specific when you ask for the password, not 'her birth name' just 'her password' got it?"

       Carlson took the card, and slipped it into his wallet, "Got it."

       "We'll set it up to look like someone else gave us the Intel with organizations you give up to us," Alexandra told him, "They can trace all they want, it will come back to someone else. If they get suspicious, call me. I'll check voicemail often when I am out - if I can't, Michael screens it."

       Carlson sighed, "Who is Michael?"

       "My mentor," she told him, "Any questions?"

       "How thorough are they? If these people get burned, they get vindictive!" Carlson asked emphatically.

       Alexandra sighed, "You checked me out didn't you?"

       Carlson sighed, "Yes, I did - Ryan? Was he Section One too?"

       Alexandra sighed, "Yes."

       Carlson nodded slowly, and took a sip of his drink, "I see."

       Alexandra felt like a rat, "Anything else?"

       "Nothing professional," he told her, "I've got some data for you - on a disk."

       She took the disk, and slipped it into her purse.

       "Alex," he said softly, "I . . . can I ask some other questions? The woman who . . . interviewed me with George - she said some things . . ."

       Alexandra took a deep breath, "You can ask. If I can answer them, I will."

       "She said you murdered someone - that was how you were recruited into Section . . . It was a warning, that you could easily take me out, wouldn't hesitate."

       "I follow orders," Alexandra said softly.

       "So . . . Section is staffed by people who've been convicted of crimes - this is their other option - outside of death  . . . how are you all so good then?" He asked.

       "Because section recruits the top of the crop. We don't all make it. If we don't . . .we die," she told him.

       He nodded slowly, "Why did you kill the man you killed?"

       She sighed, "He molested by best friend - her younger sister. My friend eventually killed herself. I blamed him. He got off on a technicality. I planned out and murdered him. I got caught because my alibi turned me over to the police - it was a tactical error. I was angry, acted irrationally."

       "Premeditated Murder," Carlson sighed, "It . . . doesn't fit . . .what I know of you. But that was an act."

       "Not really," Alexandra told him, "We were lucky I fit into the role that would work well. I had to act when I told you about Ryan."

       "And the pregnancy? Was that real or fake? Was it mine?" He asked her, "Or Ryan's?"

       Alexandra sighed, "It was real, it wasn't you, it wasn't Ryan. It was someone else, and a mistake. A mistake like that could have gotten me canceled - or at least put in abeyance. I've got a lot of making up to do."

       Carlson sighed, "I tried to get them to release you - even when I knew you'd worked for them . . ."

       Alexandra managed a smile, "thanks - but  . . . as sick as it is - I'm afraid I'm a good fit for Section One."

       "Does he know - the father?" Carlson asked.

       She sighed, "Brian - there is no father anymore."

       He reached across the table, and  slid his finger's into hers, "I want to know who my competition is."

       Alexandra sighed, "I . . . I can't believe after what you know now . . ."

       "That I'd still want  you?" Carlson asked, "I should be livid. I should be angry. But I did my homework on Section. George was helpful - that woman - when she was done fucking with my head - was helpful. You have no choice. How can I blame you?"

       She sighed, "I don't take betrayal so well Brian."

       "There was chemistry there Alex. I just want to know if there is someone else in your life," Brian asked her.

       Alexandra sighed, "I can't give you any semblance of a relationship. I really am a well paid whore Brian - a dangerous one. I can't date - because I never know from one morning to the next where I'll be. I get sent out to seduce and trick a target - and I could be gone for days. You were unusual. I never thought I'd be in that long. I don't do the long term stuff - but I just can't organize my life well enough to date."

       "At least let me see you - on the sly. You can always cancel on me, any time. I'll understand, I promise," he said, "Please. I can't get you out of my mind. I'd settle for a hit or miss affair . . ."

       "Brian -"

       "You're  sensual creature Alex. You have needs - I know - I satisfied them for three months. Why can't I take care of them for you now - unless you're seeing someone? Like the father?

       "I'm not seeing him," Alexandra said gently, "Not . . . anymore."

       "Can we get out of this bar then, take a walk - just . . . not be what we are for  while then?" He asked her.

       Alexandra sighed. She should say no  . . .

       "For a little while," she said, and left his fingers intertwined with hers.

       * * *

       Michael looked at his watch. It was late. He's just watched Alexandra go into a hotel with Carlson. They'd met in the bar, talked for a while, then walked the streets for hours. Carlson was suave. He knew her buttons, and he worked them well. Michael knew that they'd be in the hotel for at least an hour - if he was true to his past performance.

        He flipped his cell phone open, and called Nikita.

       "Hello?" he heard her voice say.

       "I'm still tailing Alex and Carlson. They just went into a hotel. I should be over there in an hour and a half."

       "One rounder huh?" Nikita asked, "Poor Alex. Why is she bothering?"

       Michael sighed, "She's feeling affection starved and cast aside."

       "That's why Darren is begging for forgiveness?"

       Michael sighed, "I'll see you in an hour and a half?"

       She sighed, "Michael, I'm tired. We'll talk tomorrow. At Section."

       "Fine," Michael snapped.

       She hung up.

       Michael scowled.

* * *

       Alexandra let him undress her. She knew that was part and parcel to foreplay for him - and he did take care about what she wanted. It was nice to be pampered, revered.

       "You never did like wearing a bra," Carlson commented as he tossed her shirt off onto the chair. He cupped her breasts, his fingers stroking over the sensitive rosy tips.

       Alexandra let her head fall back, giving herself up to the sensations assaulting her body. She kept part of her aware though. After all, he had bodyguards outside, and her gun was within reach.

       He stroked his hands down her stomach, unfastened her skirt, and it fell at her feet. Her boots, then her panties came next.

       He quickly shed his own cloths, and she watched him roll on a condom. At least he'd thought of that. She'd wondered if he'd planned on having her all along. Not that she cared, not anymore. That was what she told herself, over and over again.

       His mouth traveled down her body, kissing, caressing. She felt her arousal build. It wasn't raging, but she enjoyed it.

       She moaned out load when his tongue parted her labia, surprised he'd gone that far down. It was something he hadn't done before.

       He stroked and stroked at her, until she clawed at his hair, pulling him up. He was about to climb over her, but she flipped him on his back, and climbed on top herself. She sank down on him, and rocked back, sliding him out, then back in, and stopped.

       Carlson reached up to her, with both hands. Alexandra grabbed them, pinning him down at her side. A moment of panic flickered through his eye's, but he quickly realized she her intent wasn't to hurt him.

       "Listen, and listen carefully," She started, "This thing, will be when I want it. I can't and won't offer you any kind of fidelity. If you try to use me to get to Section, I'll destroy you myself, and I'll make Madeline look like a Mother Theresa."

       Carlson felt her muscles tighten around him, and he knew she was doing it to keep him hard, and off balance.

       "Section will have someone other than me keeping tab's on you. If you try anything funny, you'll be dead? Comprende?" Alexandra demanded.

       "Comprende!" Carlson gasped, "Alex  - Come on! You're killing me here!"

       She released his wrists, and rocked back again, sliding him out, then back in.

       He reached for her, his hands caressing her stomach, her breasts, and a few minutes later, her muscles started to clench, and contract, her orgasm quick - but somehow . . .small.

       She continued to ride, and he came moments behind her.

* * *

       Michael looked at his watch. Sure enough 55 minutes after they'd gone into the hotel, Alexandra walked out. He'd checked his watch when the activities died down, just out of some perverse need to criticize Carlson. His whole routine lasted all of 40 minutes, from beginning to end, and she'd been able to give him a stern warning half way though. Michael smirked. Darren had nothing to worry about.

       Michael followed Alexandra all the way back to Section, then turned his car around,  and headed for Nikita's apartment. They had to talk - tonight.

* * *

       Nikita knew who it was that was letting themselves into her apartment. She sighed deeply, but didn't bother to get up, instead, she snuggled down into her pillow.

       She waited until she knew he was in the room, and just about to slip into bed with her, "Don't you want to see if anyone else has been here? Care to sniff the sheets?"

       Michael sighed, and sat down on the side of the bed instead, "I owe you an apology."

       She managed a short laugh, "Gee, there's a new one!"

       She could have slapped him, and it wouldn't have had near as much impact. Michael sighed deeply, "Kita - I'm possessive - it's my problem - not yours, but it's there. I forget your age, your experience sometimes. It kills me when you have to seduce a target - I just wasn't prepared to find out someone else could please you."

       "Michael," Nikita sighed, "You once told me 'It was just sex' when I was upset that you had to seduce a target, and it seemed that you enjoyed it."

       "I know," he sighed, "Tell me what I have to do to earn your forgiveness - and I'll do it."

       Nikita sighed. She knew she should come up with something profound, make him sweat for it.

       "You do the housework for the next year," she told him, "And you don't get to freak out on me, when I want to experiment."

       Michael sighed in relief. He'd gotten off easy. Part of his punishment would even be enjoyable.

       "And get undressed and come to bed. I want to know how it went with Alex tonight," Nikita added.

       Michael shed his cloths quickly, and slipped into bed. Nikita snuggled into him, running her hand up his bare hip and side.

       "It went fine. She stayed well within parameters," Michael told her, "The only thing that concerns me is that she went to bed with him."

       Nikita sat up, "We knew that might happen."

       "She's emotionally needy right now," Michael said softly, stroking Nikita's hair, "We were sparring the other day - and I knew she was distracted I had her into the wall, and made her tell me what was distracting her."

       "Carlson," Nikita finished, "Michael -  my head would be spinning right now, If I'd had you cheat on me with another cold op - I spend three months with someone who treated me that well - lost a child by you in the middle of it - and then came back in right after seeing him commit cold blooded murder. Does she trust him?"

       Michael shook his head, "No . . . not at all. She changed the meet location at the last minute, kept him in public places. She made him leave his body guards in the lobby of the hotel. Darren is going to spot her with me - and after what happened tonight, I hope he has better control over his temper than he used to.

       Nikita sighed, "There has to be some way to destroy the attraction."

       Michael sighed, "I can think of one, but she'll be upset."

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