written by Tammy
The word ‘zerzuur’ in chapter 12 is Algerian and means ‘cricket’ or can mean ‘sparrow’.
Chapter 11
"You are responsible for it. You deal with it." Operations slammed the PDA down on the desk. Madeline watched Michael for a reaction but there was none. He stared woodenly down at the center of ops, stiff and silent. "Did you hear? Is anything registering in that skull of yours?"
Michael's voice was low and neutral. "Yes, I heard everything. But he is harmless. He could even be useful. We should look into it."
"You weren't out recruiting. You weren't even suppose to be out! You were on downtime. But no....as usual you were protecting her from something she got herself into!" Operations was close to walking over and turning Michael around to look at him. To get it into his head that Nikita was responsible for herself.
The girl was perfectly capable of it. She had convinced him of that a long time ago. That was why he pushed like he did. Nikita had more to develop and he wanted to see it happen. The stronger they were as individuals the better they would be as a team. Beyond that Operations was sick and tired of them protecting each other. In time it would cause resentment with other parties. With an exaggerated slowness Michael turned, Operations could feel the unspoken challenge. The younger man was getting very good at the subtle way of throwing down the gloves to get his attention.
"She hit a 2,000 pound animal on a narrow twisting country road at night. It was probably slippery because of the altitude and temperature You try and be responsible for yourself after doing that." Michael used his cool gaze to cover Operations from head to toe. "I could only imagine how fast my down time would end."
"Oh so we're going to get a mouth now. Let a little of the emotional man out. Come on then Michael. Let it all out. How much do you hate me?" As much as he didn't want to give the order, the safety of Section was at risk. He would just have to understand it. The necessity of it angered Operations and it colored his actions and words.
"I don't hate. I dislike." Michael stated flatly.
The next words from Operations were sarcastic and bitter edged. "Fine then dislike this! Cancel him. You managed to get yourself compromised. Get rid of the problem. Now!" He started to move away but changed his mind as Michael started to speak again.
"I want Raymond looked into. If possible, I want him used. He has skills. I believe he would be an excellent asset for Section. Especially for Madeline. They would complement each other." He flicked his eyes over once at Madeline before bringing them back to Operations. He seemed about to say something but changed his mind.
"The only wants around here that are important are mine. You're the employee. I'm the boss. You take care of mine." Operations watched as the eyes grew colder and harder, but still without a flicker of emotion. His jaw seemed to get more prominent as the muscles there contracted too.
"You seem to want a lot Michael. What else is on your wish list?" Madeline modulated her voice to match his, hoping to draw him out. The cold look he gave her said nothing. And neither did he. Silence hung as he continued to hold her eyes. Operations felt the challenge slip from being directed at him to her. "Challenging me will get you no where." She offered quietly. He moved his eyes back from Madeline to Operations.
Michael's next words were meant more for Operations than Madeline. But she felt the essence of them too. "One becomes the boss because of loyal employees. They are what pushes him up or brings... him...down. I think recently your wants have been more than attended to. Keep in mind what the peasants did to the Bastille. History does repeat itself." He delivered them softly but somehow they seemed forced as if he was holding back either more words or physical action.
"Perhaps..." Madeline countered just as quietly.
Operations looked to the ceiling in frustration. When he looked back down Michael was gone. "He needs work. This attitude is out of control. I will not tolerate it. He keeps this up, history will repeat itself."
"Maybe it will not have to. I already have something in mind." Madeline said as she walked to the window and watched Michael stride across ops and disappear through a door way.
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Raymond stood up and looked around the white room. It was the same one in Nikita's head. He had been physically escorted by two museum 'employees' from his car and into the front door of the museum. Within seconds of entering, everything had gone black. He had woken up some 15 minutes ago, feeling groggy and bewildered. Now his head was clear and curiosity ran strong. Fear nipped at his heels like a young pup but he chose to ignore it.
He started as the door opened and Michael entered. He waited till the door clanged shut behind him before he spoke. "You've signed your death warrant by following us. You should have stayed at your bungalow."
"You wouldn't stay in my world so I could help you and Nikita. So I had no choice, Michael, I had to follow you to yours. We need each other. How is she?"
"Christine is still examining her." Michael fought down the urge to yell at him. Raymond had been safe. No one would have known about him. Now they all did and he had to wonder how long before they knew everything he had learned in those few hours yesterday.
"And are you examining me? Are they watching us now?" He looked up to the ceiling. " Is that where they watch from somehow? Nikita seemed to think so."
"What do you want, Raymond?" Michael could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He had no idea what Raymond would say. He just hoped it didn't reveal too much. If Madeline knew about the dreams and the rest of it....
"To finish what we started. To get you to see them. To get you to let go of the past." He looked back down to find Michael contemplating the floor, hands folded in front of him. "Isn't that what you want?" Raymond tried to ignore the black spots that kept appearing in his peripheral vision. Aftereffect of whatever they used....
"As I've been told and shown on numerous occasions, my wants are neither important or necessary." He looked up only to see Raymond's back as he continued to evaluate the room. Michael still felt uneasy. For the first time since Madeline had him one on one here,.... how many times have I been in here with someone in the same position.... the walls felt close and overbearing. The white was incredibly pure and glaring. He wanted desperately to lift a hand and rub his temple. Lack of sleep, lack of food and tension were hitting ones of their favorite targets.
There were other urges too. Blinking rapidly he tried to clear the image of that damn pit out from the middle of the floor. It surrounded Raymond and made Michael very nervous. The last time he had experienced something like this, Operations had given him the order to cancel Nikita. That made he want to turn and run. As far away as possible, but as usual he didn't have the courage for that. Or maybe you have too much to do that. His inner voice challenged to Michael.
Raymond felt for a reaction in him. Michael was so still and void. It disturbed him. The black circles he kept seeing to the side of his vision seemed connected with the man by the door. For some reason they reminded him of a black hole, ready to suck everything in. With a sigh, he replied , "Because you allow them that control. You make yourself controllable because you refuse to let go. They know it and they use it."
He looked over his shoulder to see what Michael was doing. He felt gratified to see the hard cold stare directed at him. But there was still that lifelessness to him, almost as if he had thrown an impenetrable tarp over himself. No one could see in because of it and nothing could leak out either. "It's not a weakness, Michael, you need to understand that. More of a fear perhaps of being in control of everything around you and of yourself at the same time. It's easier to let someone else do that, isn't it?"
Raymond turned his head back around to continue his examination of the wall in front of him. "Who knows? I don't know you well enough. I can only guess. You are a puzzle and I can't put on finger on exactly which pieces to put with you. I don't think you can either. And of course there is always the case of Nikita. She is in just as much trouble as..."
The creaking of the door caught his attention. He turned in time just to see Michael's foot leave the opening. With a metallic thud, it shut. Raymond sighed and sat down. With his knees drawn up, he propped his elbows on them. His eyes fixed on the door for several seconds as he mulled over Michael's words and reactions. "You are quite the masterpiece Michael. I think there have been a few too many artists working on your canvas. We need a little restoration expertise. Not patch jobs."
With a raised eyebrow, he looked around. "I'm willing to volunteer." He announced loudly to the empty room. There was no answer. With a sigh, he leaned the back of his head against the cold metal wall and closed his eyes. He wondered if he could feel Nikita from here. He had the time, he might as well try.
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"Interesting way of putting it." Operations turned from the observation screen as he heard Madeline tapping on her keyboard. "What are you doing?"
"I know who this man is. I've seen him before...but where....Whitespriten.....where have I...ah there it is." She was silent as she studied her monitor.
Operations stepped over to her and looked over her shoulder. "He's a compromise. He goes."
Madeline leaned back in her chair, her pointer finger gliding back and forth across her upper lip. "Delay that for now, Oscar. Michael might just be right. This man could be useful. Dr. Raymond Whitespriten is quite an accomplished fellow in his field. Dream therapist and quite an expert on PTSD."
"What's PTSD?" He studied the newspaper article that Madeline currently had displayed on the screen.
"Really Oscar....Post traumatic stress disorder....you must remember that. How many of your men do you think were treated for it after they came home from Vietnam?"
He straightened and shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the subject matter. "It was something I neither looked into nor had time to worry about." Looking up briefly, Madeline could see the cloudiness of his eyes. One of these days she would dig deeper and get at what he experienced there. It would be quite useful. But she decided that was for later and turned her attention back to the monitor.
"He disposed of his practice almost a year ago. Seems a young patient of his shot him and then killed herself during one of their sessions. After he was released from the hospital, he dropped out of sight. Somehow Michael managed to pull him back out. This will prove to be interesting"
Operations stalked away from her and was about to exit. "Order stands."
"Excuse me?" Madeline thought he had understood her. She wanted to use Raymond for a while. The man could prove to be an asset just as Michael had stated earlier.
"You heard me." The door maneuvered along its track as she stood.
"No I want him left alone, Oscar! "
Operations turned to scowl at her. "One reason why Madeline and make it a good one."
"I had sensors on. I wanted to see how Raymond was reacting. He was a like a freezer. But he rattled Michael terribly. Got to him as I've never seen before. Every one of his readings were off the scale. Michael was ready to run. There is something to be explored here. Give me the chance. You said Michael needs work. Whitespriten might be the answer you want. And what you want is the only thing that matters, right Oscar?"
"Cut the sarcasm! It's not appreciated!"
"Well?"
"For now." and then he was out the door.
Madeline smiled as the door closed. "That will do, for now. Michael is taken care of, now to plan for Nikita."
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Sensing someone coming close, Michael opened his eyes. Christine pulled up another chair and sat down. "I want you to know I check my results twice. I also had my diagnosis confirmed by an outside source so it would be as objective as possible." She reached over and readjusted some of Nikita's hair on the pillow. "She has to make the decision to do it."
Michael looked at Nikita and then back to Christine. "What do you mean?"
"She's not in a coma, Michael. And she is not exactly unconscious either. She shows none of the signs. Her scores on Glasgow are too high. It's similar to a catatonic state. But it is self induced, as if she felt she had to protect herself. Subconsciously she has made the decision that where ever she perceives herself to be is preferable to what she has here. If she comes back she has to decide that she wants to come back to here, to you and them."
"He said she had 'someday'. I guess he was right." His eyes shifted from Christine back to Nikita.
"You've said 'he' twice. What are you talking about? I'm ready to pull you in for an exam. Between referring to yourself in the third person and that altered state look you gave me earlier... you got me worried, bud." She reached over and placed her palm against his cheek, forcing his eyes back to her face. "Talk to me. What the hell happened?"
He pushed her hand away and got up, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. The touch had been too familiar and it made him uncomfortable. "She crashed the car and went down into a ravine. He found her......Raymond Whitespriten, a psychiatrist, retired. But there is something strange about him. He treats through dreams. He gets to you by using them to figure you out. "
"Then he's like empathic?" Christine looked over to Nikita. Don't let anyone know Nikita please. We have to kept this hidden. I'm not ready to tell yet. He's not ready to hear it either.
"I suppose that's an apt description. There's more to it than that, highly intuitive maybe. He knew my name. He knew Nikita's and the children's. He called her their mother, them our children. She was never responsive, there was no way for her to tell him. I got to his bungalow. Raymond won't let me leave. Said we needed help. We talked for a long time. He described to me some of what she was 'experiencing'."
"And that...."
Abruptly he stopped talking and stared at her. She noticed how rapid his breathing had gotten. "What's wrong?" Worry tinted her tone of voice. The intensity of his gaze was disturbing. She shifted her eyes away only to find her chin shoved up so that her eyes met with his again. Images, sensations and parts of not only words but whole sentences flew through his head. Raymond's words echoed above all of it. She is also worried about your sister, Christine. He looked hard into her eyes, trying to see behind them. "Tell me the truth Christine. Who are you?"
Christine swallowed with difficulty over the lump of guilt that formed instantaneously in her throat. "You're hurting my neck. Please let go." His sudden change of manner frightened her as well. He let go of her chin but grabbed her hand as she reached up to rub her chin where he had gripped it so hard.
"Answer me!" Michael thought he could see that she wanted to say something. "Say it Christine. Tell me. Please I need to know. Help us to work this out." He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling but now need to know was stronger. Christine symbolized a big part of the past. If he could deal with her on a regular basis then maybe he could work on the past.
"We don't tell about our former lives. It's a secret. My secret." She slipped a hand into her pocket to hit her beeper. Christine hit the number that beeped Calrienne's. If she didn't get out of here soon, it was going to get dumped on the floor at their feet.
"Then I'll trade you a secret. I have... had a sister. Paige was a year older that me. Soft brown hair, brown eyes like a doe's, gentle and caring but wary. She was my best friend. Someone took her away the same day they took me. I haven't seen her since that day. Except in my dreams. I love and miss her so much it almost kills me. I want to know where she is, if she is still alive. Help me find out." She fought to breath and for self control. Tears wanted to fall and all she wanted to do was reassure him that Paige was safe. "Please..." he whispered.
He could see the look in her eyes. There was the glimmer of tears and he swore she was forcing herself not to talk and not to shake. The door opened. Calrienne popped her head in. "I need your help ASAP, Christine."
"Coming." She stood and back away from him. Her legs were wobbly but she refused to let him see it. "Excuse me, please." Michael let his arm drop to his leg as she walked away. He kept his eyes on her back even after the door closed.
Calrienne grabbed Christine as she sagged against the wall when she heard the door thud close. "Are you all right? What's going on in there ?" Christine shoved her off.
"You're in charge for the rest of the shift. If her condition changes, I'll be in my office. Otherwise you don't know where I am." Christine pushed herself forward and took a deep breath. With her back ramrod stiff, she slowly made her way down the hall.
Wearily Michael sat in the chair Christine had been in and picked up Nikita's hand. He laid it gently across her stomach. "I never gave up on us. I never gave up on you. Don't do it to yourself ." He started to stand, brushing her mouth lightly as he straightened up. He whispered so only she could hear, at least he hoped. "Don't forget Reese and Katie love you. Don't forget I do too."
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Raymond looked up as the door creaked open again. He stood as he scrutinized the woman who entered. She smiled at him. He didn't return it. He had some time to think and had decided that he would need to continue to appear hard. To act as if he had all the cards and they were in his control. Here he already knew that control or complete submission equaled survival. You fought you got hurt. That was what had happened to Michael and Nikita. She had fought and for some reason he had submitted.
"Madeline." He said simply.
Her reply was first an inclined head. Then she spoke. "Dr. Whitespriten. I've read many things about your work. It's good to meet you."
Now Raymond smiled. "Raymond is what I prefer. I am no longer in practice and I've dropped the professional name. Whiteshadows is my family name."
Madeline nodded, finding herself at loss for words. It was an awkward feeling. She paced a little with her hands clasped behind her back. She looked up at Raymond who regarded her indifferently. "You intrigue me, Raymond."
"And I want to know more about you as well, Madeline. You must be quite impressive to make people hate you so much." There was no response from her so Raymond smiled. "You really don't know what to do with me, do you? I'm not angry, I'm not afraid, I'm not hysterical. I'm just here. You look at me and see a man who has long black hair streaked with silver and copper skin. Put a headdress on and I'd look like your favorite cigar store Indian. But this....yes this man in front of you is not what you expected . Right now you are trying to figure out just what to do. Decisions are difficult, aren't they?"
There was still no response from Madeline. Raymond knew she was calculating the best thing to say. He could feel it. "I'd like to have some discussions with you, Madeline. Get to know you better." He moved forward so there was more room between him and the wall. Madeline used the room to start to circle him. He never let his eye contact with her end so he moved in the circle with her. They were equally wary of each other..
For the first time in a long while, Madeline had to confess to some consternation. She might have a formidable match in this man. She always looked for a weakness first. She hadn't found it. Do you think yourself to be my better or just my equal? "You want to figure out how I think and what I feel. "
The same type of smile that Madeline favored crossed Raymond's lips. "Hmmmm... 'feel'.... that is not the term I would use for you. Michael feels but denies it. You think about it, attempt it... but..." He shrugged.
The comments took her unawares. Sometimes seeing yourself reflected in someone else's eyes was the cruelest of truths. She was perturbed but she refused to show that to him. His voice took on an almost coaxing quality. "Yes, you would be an interesting one to study as well as learn from. The effect on the psyche of the recipient and the endower of fear, threats and intimidation. Would be quite a paper I think. But I'm not going to be writing that. I've made a mistake coming here I've been told."
Michael rubbed the knuckle of his thumb back and forth his lips as he watched the scene between Madeline and Raymond. So far he had her back against the proverbial wall. Madeline might have possession of the physical control but that was it. Raymond has all the rest. But in case he revealed anything, Michael had to be prepared to counteract it. Strategics was quiet and the monitors in here gave him a better view than the one he could have patched through on his office laptop. Suddenly he felt eyes and looked away from the monitors. He took a deep breath as he found himself to still be alone. With one last glance around, he turned his attention back to the screens.
A figure moved back into the semi-light. Doyle's eyes narrowed as he observed Michael through the glass. With Iceman back, he gave him the opportunity to determine the best way to undermine him. The question was where to start. Especially now that it seemed Michael had a new ally in his corner.
".....aim is." Madeline said shortly.
Raymond considered her statement for a moment before answering. "Fundamentally I do understand . Just not necessarily do I approve or disapprove. I do recognize though that you can't allow your desire to succeed at or attain your aim by destroying those whom you use to achieve that aim."
Madeline stopped and studied him hard for a instant. "Meaning?" Her tone was tight. Raymond felt rewarded. He was making some head way. She was definitely not going to have anything done with him. At least not in the immediate future.
"The mind is not like Frankenstein's monster. You can't substitute parts from others in place of the original. Patch jobs as well don't hold. Use wears holes in the patches or possibly the seams begin to unravel."
"Then you sew again."
Raymond nodded. "As long as there is material left.....what do you know of post traumatic stress disorder?"
"Reaction to a traumatic experience that can be exhibited not long after the incident or at times a short while after. There is an initial state of numbness for the victim as they try to assimilate the event or events. Then there can be immediate manifestation of the main symptoms or they lay dormant for some time until something triggers it. A person can then begin to suffer from depression, irritability, tremendous guilt over surviving or letting it happen, problems with emotional relationships, acts of violence, nightmares and a lack of self worth. Does that cover it, Doctor?" Madeline leaned against the door, hands still held behind her back.
"You do recognize the symptoms..... then why do you perpetuate the damage?"
Michael sensed the movement and the threat behind it before the person touched him. Reacting defensively, he spun. He grabbed the arm coming towards him and went for the throat with his other hand. He was met with a wrist hold and sarcastic smile from Doyle. "A little nervous there, pal? Not good for the digestive tract they tell me. I was just going to give you a welcome back pat on your shoulder."
With a dismissive gesture, Michael shoved him off and snatched up the remote, ready to switch them off when Doyle pointed to the screen. "Don't flip yet. You're the topic of conversation."
He looked back to the monitors for a second to hear Raymond say "...and Michael suffers from multiple manifestation of symptoms. You need...." Not wanting to give fuel to the fire that was Doyle's attitude towards him, he cut the feed.
"Listening in on your latest psyche evaluation?"
Michael looked blankly at Doyle before he turned to leave. Staying here only pushed him to be bolder. "Whoa, wait a minute friend. Stay and talk to me." He snagged Michael's jacket only to earn a hard hit with an open hand. "OK, hands off then." Moving away a little, he grinned at Michael again.
"Who let you out? I didn't authorize your release."
"Big Daddy Operations.....told me not to get in your face again. Said you let me off easy. Thanks for not messing with my face too much....didn't like the shape of my nose anyway. And my kidneys, they needed the cleaning out." Michael turned away from Doyle to look out the glass. Christine was just entering the exercise room. She seemed lethargic. He could just make out Simon sitting up on a weight bench and her stopping to speak to him. It was impossible to get rid of the feeling that there was a relationship that was stronger than friendship between them.
"... beyond that there was no reason to keep me in there. And since you were off protecting Nikita's sweet little rear again, somebody had to rescue me...."
Doyle's mention of Nikita brought Michael's attention back to him. "I went looking for a missing operative. I would have done the same for you."
"Somehow I don't think so Michael. I hear she had a bit of sense had knocked out of her." Doyle folded his arms across his chest as he looked intently at him. With a slight shake of his head, Michael turned. He didn't have time or the inclination to be involved in Doyle's little playground tussle for dominance. The door closed behind him as Doyle's eyes bore into his back.
Snickering, Doyle made a gesture as if casting a fishing line at the figure going towards the exercise room. "Michael, Michael.. I can't wait to see how far I can get my hook in you....you're mine...eventually...we'll see who's the bigger fish in this pond."
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Michael watched Simon and Christine inconspicuously from his office through the open window. She had apparently asked him for help with some hand to hand techniques because he was now working with her on them. The gentleness and patience Simon was exhibiting with Christine surprised him a lot. Simon took martial arts seriously, more than most other operatives. It was how he'd gotten past the anger and found the man he wanted to be. But he was a demanding teacher and gave no leeway to anyone when practicing. Christine was an exception to the norm. He had to admire the speed at which she picked up the moves.
Observing him with Christine told Michael that there was a definite 'something' there. One sided, not likely. Most of the time when there was an instructor and a student, there was a barrier. Something like a 'no touching zone'. There was also usually an awkwardness. The two of them showed nothing similar. There was a sense of familiarity as they moved closely together as if they knew each other's bodies well.
The lessons seemed to be at an end. Simon appeared to be showing her something sports related that had her laughing hard. He looked like he was giving orders in a huddle. Coming out of the office, Michael stepped closer to the glass. Simon had dropped back as if to make a pass. There must have been a mistake in the play that he was telling her about. He placed the imaginary ball in her hands and then in a swift motion had her up in his arms and moving backwards.
At this point Christine was laughing so hard she had tears running down her face and Simon had finally broken into laughter with her. He tripped over a piece of equipment and tumbled backwards, spilling them both on the floor. They started tussling with Simon easily the victor. The situation was so similar to one between him and Nikita that there were no longer just suspicions in Michael's mind. The looks passing between the two of them were plain. He stepped in the room to hear a few whispered words.
"...think so." There was a breathless challenge in Christine's voice.
"Try it." There was equal challenge in Simon's but with an edge to it. A lazy sexy smile appeared on her lips which he returned.
"This cat has long sharp nails."
Simon leaned down closer to her face. The movement only pushed her more into the mat. With his smile turning devilish. "I know and I do like the way they feel on my ba...."
A movement caught Michael's eye and his head swung to the side. Doyle had both hands braced against the glass and he glared at the couple in the floor. Violently he shoved at the glass and stalked away. The thud against the glass and Michael's entrance into the room grabbed their attention from each other. Making a cutting motion across his throat as he moved through the room, Michael went out the other door.
Simon scrambled from the floor, pulling Christine up with him. "Go home now! No arguments or questions. Do it! I'll meet you there." And he followed Michael. He found them on the catwalk.
"I don't care what you think...."
"You're a fucking disease around this place!!! Everything you're connected with!!! What happened to Section norms? They counted for ME, they god damn well better count for YOU!!!" Doyle stopped his movements as Simon came up behind Michael. "And how long have you been doing her? As long as he's had Nikita? What gives you either of you the right?"
His eyes narrowing, Simon looked Doyle up and down, as if he was an insect. "Don't comment on what you don't understand. Gather your facts first."
Doyle nodded as he looked from one to the other. "Yeah, right." He made a noise of disgust and walked away.
Waiting until he was out of the range of his whisper, Michael turned to Simon. "No more. I know you two are involved. End it. I can't protect the two of you."
"No, I don't need the protection Michael. Stay out of my private life. Respect it the same way I've respected the one you have with Nikita. That's all I want."
"You don't have the..."
"I have my own trump card. I'll use it if I have to. Remember...I've been watching you for 5 years and I used to be pretty damn good at keeping the wool over people's eyes. I'll handle it."
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Chapter 12
The view from his screen into Madeline's office was a dim one. "Madeline?"
"Yes?" Her voice was blurred edges, as if she had been sleeping or .....crying.
Even though Operations could see the outline of her face, he could not see the features. "Are you all right?"
"Just fine."
"I'll be right down then." He shut off the feed and hurried from his office.
With a heavy hand, Madeline cut her own feed and returned to the position she held in her chair before he had disturbed her. She brushed her cheek and frowned as she felt the dampness. This was not going to do. This depressed feeling....
"You feel....that is not the term I would use for you. Michael feels but denies it. You think about it, attempt it... but..." Her eyes tried to burn a hole into the top of her desk. Raymond's words had been cruel. He had used them with a humiliating effect on her. All the events of the past two days had only served as fertile ground for the doubts about life in general.
Madeline had hoped that by going to Claude's, her suspicions would be unfounded. The sight of Reese had unsettled her. He did look a lot like Merle but there were enough differences that one could easily tell them apart. The eye color was terribly similar, that she had to admit. But Reese's personality was completely unlike Merle's.
Merle had been very much like his mother. You never knew where you stood with Simone and the same with the baby as young as he had been. Reese let her know right away that he didn't like her. But seeing him interact with the others told her, he was easy going, cheerful and lovable. Merle was easily agitated, almost over sensitive. To her, he had always seemed sad as well. In spite of that though, when they lost Merle, a good piece of heart went out of Section One, regardless of whether Oscar deigned that it was true or not.
She had not prepared herself for the sight of Jerrod either. He had grown tall and handsome. Like his father had been..... no... make that still is. Guilt propelled her away from those thoughts. The decisions of the past could not be remade in the present. Katie was another matter though. Even Raymond had known that the child was truly alive. To think that both Michael and Claude had lied to her. Nikita's lying didn't bother her. As a woman, she understood it; at least that was what she had convinced herself of. And lies were a common cover for Nikita anyway.
Katie was a force to deal with just like her mother. Madeline could only guess that she had a temper to rival Nikita's. She and Reese made quite a picture together. In the short time they had been living with Claude and Annie, a sibling bond had grown between them. Claude's cover of 'ou kay' had been good but upon hearing him call Katie as he heard her voice, it had been blown. She recalled the hate in the young girl's eyes and her harsh tone. It hurt because Katie didn't even know her. "Nikita must have done a very good hatchet job on me."
The door beeped but Madeline ignored it. Let him try to come in. I redid the code. She thought churlishly. The deception from Oscar was the worst. Or was it the deception of Oscar? There was where those doubts came into play. Yes it was her that he had 'stayed with'. As much as the past 16 years could be described as 'staying with'. But hadn't he always answered Martina's requests and invitations immediately. There was never a question except 'How soon?' Repaired any damages she caused!! What ever...
"You are obsessing and getting jealous over a woman who is cold in the grave! What is your problem?" The door sounded again and Madeline cast a disparaging glance at it. "Find another pastime, Oscar." The door opening brought her to her feet. Operations stepped in and waved a hand over the light sensor. The boxes behind the trees came up brightly. Madeline blinked once in the sudden light and pointed to the door. "You weren't invited in."
His smile disappearing as he saw her face, Operations stopped in front of her desk. "What's wrong, Madeline?"
"I wish to be left alone. Or does that go against what you want?"
"As a matter of fact it does." His voice lost its friendly tone and turned more business like. "Did you see Reese?"
"Yes I did." She snatched the PDA from beside her terminal and tossed it to him. "Take a good look Oscar. You went through everything for no reason in the world other than what Martina wanted. He doesn't have any chip. You know it amazes me how quickly you believe her. No doubts, no questions."
Operations studied the PDA. "He's clean. Then where...?" He looked back up at her.
"Nikita was the only one she tagged. She used the chip as an excuse to get you to throw our extensive resources around her child. How's it feel to be a patsy, Oscar?" He continued to look at her silently. His grayish blue eyes impassive. "Or are you lying? You knew all along. You really didn't think I'd look into this? Hmph! She had you all so well read.....even me for God sake. She wanted Michael and Nikita to do the job because she knew how he would react to Reese, Nikita because of how she would instinctively back Michael and because of her own past."
"There were no lies. I believed her. I knew George wanted it. I knew this was all connect back to Philippe somehow. I didn't realize it was going to morph into the shape of Jon Jae till it was too late. I didn't prepare properly! I made numerous mistakes because I went on emotions instead of facts. The ultimate sin was committed by me. I acted on my own! I helped to damage or destroy things that were gravely important to all of us. The error is admitted . Happy now?" He tossed the PDA down on the desk. There he'd admitted it. He felt better, sort of.
"After all this time, why care?"
"Because at one time I loved the woman Madeline. Just like what we had, I had with her. She was in trouble...we all were. I took care of the part of us that was the most important. At least that was what I thought I was doing. I didn't think any of it was a lie!!"
Madeline sneered at him. "Maybe you haven't been doing enough thinking about anything for a while. This place is falling apart!"
"What is that comment suppose to imply?" He leaned over the desk. "And don't mince words with me either. Though I know you have a habit of doing that."
"Then here's the whole serving. Your little proteges have been lying through their teeth to you. For longer than either of us thought. I've been doing a lot of thinking. This all started before you even decided to 'cancel' Nikita. You just refused to see how much happening between them. And I let it go on because I thought it was good for both of them. We knew he wouldn't let her be cancelled. But you convinced me to brush it aside. It will never go that far. Surprise Oscar it. They've been lovers since before he 'brought' her back to Section. They are both inches from the next level both in the relationship and here. It has to be taken care of."
"I never doubted any of that, Madeline. I hate it but I am allowing it because it's working FOR US!!! Better than I hoped for! You were right to let her be his material."
"He has too much room to maneuver in. You complain about his attitude. He has it because you allow it! It needs to be dealt with!"
"You're right. It's my fault. I caused it!!! So I expect you to fix it!!"
Madeline's mouth almost dropped open. She was able to stop it but couldn't keep the shock from her eyes. "Me? Take care of your problem?"
He straightened up and stared stonily into her eyes. "Cut his attitude. Get him back to normal. But leave them intact. I made a promise. I expect to keep it. You're going to help me do it."
Her tone was bitter and sarcastic. "I suppose it was one to Martina I'm suppose to help you keep!"
Deliberately easing his hands into his pants pocket, he acted as if he was calm and had peace of mind. "Maybe it was. She did make it clear that wanted him to have a family. Maybe he'll have one, the one she wanted. In a way we owe it to Michael too. We've used and abused him badly."
"No worse than any other operative."
"We didn't kill anyone else's wife or child did we? Just his."
"We did not...."
"We did! Face it!! Their deaths were the consequences of actions we took but have shrugged the responsibility for. Whose shoulders do you think took on that burden? By the way Madeline, if you can't do the job, maybe Michael brought us someone who can." He turned about to leave and stopped on the track for the door that slid open at his closeness. He shifted half way around so deliver a parting shot. "And as I told you before, whatever I've done for Martina and Reese, I would have done the same for you and ours, if that had been the case. Jealousy over a dead woman isn't very attractive either." And with that, he was out the door.
Still with shock clear in her eyes, Madeline sat heavily in her chair. Disgusted, bewildered and furious at the same time, she could only lean her head forward against her fists. His words seemed to ricochet on the walls. The sanctuary of her office had been splintered. What had been the wrong move?
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Nikita held her head in her hands as she sat at the dining room table. It had been a hard day. There had been a major altercation between a runaway and his parents. She hated signing a PFA against a parent but there had been no choice. Then Michael had been here when she got home and his mood had been dark. He had blown up at the kids and her too. A loud argument had followed. He had stormed out and taken off in the car, where was a good question. They never had been able to fight nice. This had all started yesterday with their talk of the past. Of things she wanted to set right....
She rubbed her temples. Christine had presented the idea and Simon had not expressed a preference. Michael was adamant about not doing it though. How could he be against it? Carmichael John was a sweet little boy. He was loud though. Even Reese thought so and no one thought of Reese as quiet. A request of something so simple as...
"MY TURN!!" And speaking of the devil, Reese's scream tore through the quiet of the cabin.
"FINE!! PLAY BY YOURSELF!!" Katie slammed out of the kitchen, face red with anger. Muttering to herself as she stomped across the room. "Petite merde....grand tete...fait me chier tou..."
"Katrina Nicole, I've warned you about that language before. You are one more syllable away from a week of no phone, no TV and no computer!"
"Take it all the hell away. I don't..."
Nikita stood up so fast the chair fell backwards. She pointed to Katie's bedroom door. "YOUR ROOM NOW!!!" The door slammed shut behind Katie. She closed her eyes as white hot streaks of pain flashed across her eyelids. She staggered back, fingers to her temple. It hurt so much, she thought she was going to black out. The phone on the hutch behind her rang. Blindly she groped for it, desperately hoping it was Michael.
"Michael..."
"Hi Nik...what's doing Golden Girl?" Like a ghost from a nightmare, Taylor had found her here of all places. The phone crashed to the floor a second before she did.
Snapping his eyes open, Raymond looked over to see if Michael had seen her movement also. "Is she coming too?" Michael asked softly. It had only been a hard head jerk. But it was still something.
Raymond shrugged, his expression serious. "She's very frightened of him."
"Who?" He saw her flinch again and then her fingers dig into the mattress. Michael touched the back of her hand. He drew back, it felt lifeless, cold and rigid
"Katie's father. You believe that the relationship was not always consensual?"
"Yes. He hurt her more than she acknowledges."
Sitting down on a chair, Raymond looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "She dreams of him?"
"Nightmares."
"Like you...only repressed until triggered...Bauer?" Raymond sounded like he was thinking out loud. He looked over at Michael as he saw his head nod yes.
"He tried." He reached out again but pulled back. Unsure and confused, he felt the wall between them building again. Michael knew he was running but it wasn't from her. It was from himself.
Raymond saw what he did and frowned. "Feelings can hurt, Michael. They are part of what makes us human. But we can't survive without them. No matter what we try and do. Yes, they can hurt but they can heal too. They just need to be accepted. I don't always promise we can understand them but we can't shut them up in a box either to keep the pain away. That's when we begin to rot inside."
"That's why I can't. It's wrong." Michael whispered so softly Raymond thought he sighed.
"She has what she wants there but the perfect world she thinks she has isn't. Bad from the real world seeps into the dream. Her fear is pulling her from it. Plus she still harbors that earlier fear that it isn't real. I need to play up on this fear of Taylor." He stood and scratched his forehead, dropping into silent thought.
"No, not Taylor."
"Fear may be why she is like this. There is the chance then it will also have the opposite effect."
"No, we live with too much of that. No, not Taylor."
Raymond folded his arms across his chest. "Then you come up with a solution. There is no way to protect her here Michael. This is something you can't fix for her."
"Katie and Reese...we use them. She'll come back for them."
"I don't think so."
"She gave up freedom for me. She'll give up a dream for them."
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Simon put the mug down on the counter and went back into the living room. Christine still sat curled up in the recliner, staring blankly at the TV screen. It was the same weather report he had heard 5 times before. "I think we can assume that it will be nice tomorrow."
"Things can change on a whim. Just like they did tonight." She sounded like a drone, her voice as blank as her eyes.
Kneeling down by the arm of the chair, he glided his fingers in the soft hair on the side of her head. "Chrissy, it will be all right." There was no response. "Zerzuur, talk to me."
She pulled her head away and got up. Aiming the remote at the TV, it blinked off. After tossing it in the chair behind her she said softly, "I'm going to bed. You can stay and watch TV or go home. Your choice." Slowly she went towards the bedroom.
With a sigh and a frown, Simon stood up. There had been no invitation to join her. Obviously it meant she wanted to be alone. She had been like this when she entered the exercise room and it had taken a while to lighten her up. Just like her brother and he said so as he leaned against the doorjamb.
Christine grabbed a vase off her dresser and threw it wildly at him. "You just don't get it, do you? He's figuring it out. I hate lying to him. He doesn't deserve this."
"Hon, he knows. He already told me to end it with you. I told him to forget it. I've respected him and Nikita...I want him to do the same. He's worried about not being able to protect us. I told him that I have a trump card."
"What?! Jesus Christ, that's where he's getting it from. You're a moron!" She moved around the room, a hand rubbing her head and then her neck. There was no denying how agitated she was. "What the hell am I going to do?"
"Wait, I think you got that wrong.. I told him I had a trump card but not what or who it was. You asked me not to tell him. I'm standing by your request. I'm not going to let you down. What in the world did he say to you to get you so worked up?"
Christine flopped down on the end of the bed and glowered at the rug. His words echoed those from her dream a few days ago. She was getting to know him too well. "We were sitting by Kita talking and he got this real weird look on his face and this tone in his voice. He asked me again who I was. I almost told him. I never knew how much my secret was hurting him until I saw that look on his face today. He says he wants to know what happened to Paige so much it's killing him."
As Simon started to speak, Christine continued to count loops in the carpet. "I know you think not letting him know is best for him. I don't want to undermine your intentions here but .... not knowing what happened to Paige....to you....bothers him a lot. You're finally beginning to see some of what he's been experiencing. For what it's worth, I think you should tell him."
"When? Like now? With Nikita the way she is and the mess with the kids...no. It has to wait until things settle down."
He sat down on the bed with her and traced a circle on her thigh. "Nothing ever settles down in Section One. Which means there is never a perfect time for anything. You want to say or do something that needs the right time and place....it doesn't just happen. You have to make a time or place for it."
"Yeah I know." With a deep sigh, she reached over and snagged his hand. Lifting it, she brought it to her lips for a quick kiss.
Simon closed his eyes for a second before he cupped her face with his hand and pulled her eyes up to his. "So I'm making time right now. I love you."
Christine closed her eyes, heart pounding like a jackhammer. "Take it back."
"No... tell me you feel the same way."
"No." I can think it .... but I can't say it. That makes this real...
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Too much inactive time made Jack a dull boy, Doyle it made jumpy. One bright spot in it though, 3 trips to Madeline's office had paid off in her computer access codes. Today had a bonus too. She'd had Michael's file up when he walked into the office. Quickly but with a touch of subtleness she had closed it down. She used the same keystrokes as the past two times he had been in the office except for four additional ones she tapped in. It seemed to be a lock out feature.
He was still nailed into Birkoff's area. As much as he hated it, the admission of learning a lot didn't have to be dragged out of him. In fact right now, he was going to enjoy himself by using his new skills. Logging in was easy using Madeline's codes. Just as he had hoped, the ones he saw her log out with were the opposite of log in. The last 4 keys were symbols on the keyboard and then he was in. A large smile in place, he passed through into the personnel database and started to skim names.
He found 6 Michaels or variations of the name. The first 5 were fruitless. The final one was Samuelle and it was....
"Payday!! Let's see what makes up your psychosis, man!" Doyle began to open the file. It surprised him as to its size. "Active little boy aren't we, Michael? How much material are you going to give me?"
Two and a half hours later, Doyle leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He exhaled deeply and tried to make out the ceiling panels in the gloom. "Damn Iceman, I haven't read this much in years. On paper you are one frightening prospect. No wonder you're the favorite son. Madeline's pet project and Operations' boy wonder. Just about single-handedly you've mold this place for them in the past few years."
Doyle started to sort facts. At 6 kidnapped by an extremist group that grew up to be Red Cell. Groomed by none other than the progenitor, Philippe L' Araigne to take over. Accomplished assassin by age 13 and by Doyle's personal estimation awesome when Section One grabbed him at 17. Brought some girl in with him, too. 3 years later, he was a level 3 working closely with a guy called Jurgen. He remembered the name from Maze. He had been there a while. Not somebody to mess with and here he didn't even realize the man had been a Section operative. Jurgen's team had been sent after an Irish terrorist by the name of Rupert.
A grim frown appeared on Doyle's face. The day Jurgen had appeared in Maze meant that was close to when his father had been captured. The mission had been compromised and Jurgen captured. Michael had managed to get the rest of the team out except for Jurgen. And no attempt had been made to extract Jurgen either. Michael had been rewarded for his action on the mission and it had been all uphill after that. Doyle had to confess to being impressed by his record. The guy is excellent... Unfortunately it also made him more resentful. Michael's success was built on Rupert's grave.
That success had meant more rewards and that lead to Michael's relationship with Simone. She had been taken the same time as him from Red Cell and was like his second skin. They had been 'allowed' to marry and had a child. Both wound up dead and it was there Doyle noticed a series remarks indicating a slip in performance. There had been a push to training, pulling him from field assignments. That was where Nikita had shown up.
"You latched on to her like a life preserver. And she made life nuts for you. But you've risen above that and pulled her with you. Operations ordering you to cancel her blew your mind, didn't it?" Doyle spun around in the chair a couple of times, trying to decide where to go next.
The files weren't complete, that much he knew. Madeline had the actual psychological profiles apart and protected from the bio sketches. It didn't please him in the least. He'd taken a chance here and not gotten very much. The evidence that Miss Bitch was a kind of weak spot for Michael was already clear. He just had to figure out how to use it to his advantage. That could prove to be a little difficult since the ice man obviously had the team approval of this.
"Well I know some more about you that I did before. You are going to be fun to toy with. You've got more triggers than I could find this time...maybe more than Walter has in the munitions room. I am looking forward to this." He backed his log in out, covering his tracks as he had seen Birkoff do. Getting up and rubbing his hands together, Doyle casually strolled out of the office.
Operations frowned as watched Doyle leave the office. Birkoff looked up at him. "He was in Madeline's files."
"I realized that a while ago. Michael's I presume..."
"Yeah. What do you want to do?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Let Madeline know that her files were compromised and by whom. Tell her to change her codes. I want her to deal with him.....What's Nikita's condition?"
"I was there earlier. The bruise on her head is getting lighter and the cut is healing but she's not there, sir. You feel comfortable with the new guy around her so much?"
Inhaling deeply Operations replied, "Madeline is. I'll go on her call for now. That new guy...his name is Raymond. Get somebody to bring him upstairs in 20." Turning, he walked through the ops center to the back and disappeared in the shadows.
Birkoff shrugged. "Things are never smooth around here anymore. I just love it!" He slapped his hand down on the desk with a snort.
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Madeline tapped in the last few notes and pushed her chair from the console. Operations would not be pleased with the plan but it had to be done. Yes maybe she would be able to deal effectively with Michael and get him back in 'shape'. But any work she accomplished would be endangered by the effect Nikita had on him.
Raymond's words about PTSD and what is was doing to both of them had not fallen on a closed mind or ears. But she felt that it was more of a tactical advantage for Section to use it then to get rid of it. The past for both Michael and Nikita was central to what drove them. There were the constant attempts to bury it but it was never deep enough.
Over the years, she had be able to cover many details about Michael. They were tools she used consistently with good results over that span of time. But she had no such thing for Nikita. That was poor planning. She had seen what was developing a long time ago but still she had hedged the necessity for it. Though Oscar still did not admit to it verbally, his actions spoke it clearly. He had already picked the next tactical team and was grooming them. Simon would never be like Michael is; but he would do the job as it needed to be done.
And Michael she had no doubts would fill her position. He had the same inner core that she did. That was why she refused to 'treat the problem' as Raymond had insisted. The damage was what made Michael what he was. She could not in good faith jeopardize the future of Section One by fixing a little psychosis. After all hadn't she dealt with her little jealousy demons for years now without any problems. Madeline controlled them, not the other way around. That was all Michael needed to learn how to do.
Nikita had the other hand was a problem. She was in need of some repair work. But if it was overt then there would be a retreat. Just like there was now. She had confronted something and retreated. That encounter had been with the past and the baggage it had. Bauer had been a poor porter bringing it off the train the way he had. Madeline sighed. Maybe this had been better. Deal with it now before it happened on an actual mission...
Madeline needed to seduce Nikita. Not in the typical sense of the word. No, perhaps it was better to use the word deceive. Deceive her into thinking about and dealing directly with the past. Otherwise it would be a weapon to use against her by someone other than Section One. Making Nikita deal with the past gave Madeline the details she needed to mold her into what they needed. The lesson would be a formidable one. Not only as a tool for dealing with the past but for quelling that little demon inside of herself that demanded some retribution.
With a grim expression on her face, she turned to the console and tapped a few keys. The network logged up quickly. She typed in "Baugh?" and waited. The response was quick.
"Yes, Madeline?"
"Are you complete?"
"All questions have been answered and forwarded as specified."
"Client's condition?"
"Subdued. Fairly unaware."
"Problems?"
"Client has been most cooperative. Awaiting final deposition orders."
"Cancel her." And then Madeline break the connection. Part One was done. There were no regrets about the order she had just given. It was in best interests of the Section. She typed in another name. "Moser" and then waited again.
This time there was a longer delay than the first. Then the reply flashed up on her screen. "Here."
"Litta complete. It's ready."
"When?"
"Will contact you."
"They'll be waiting." This time the other end broke off first. Madeline shut the terminal down and stood up. She adjusted the jacket of the cranberry tweed suit. It was a good time to check out what was going on in the rest of the unit. With a satisfied look on her face and in her eyes, she strode confidently to the door and waited for it to open.
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The door opening caught Raymond's attention as he sat at the small desk. The computer system made no sense to him, it was more complicated than the one he had used in his office while in practice. With a sigh, he pushed his chair back and stood to face his visitor.
The short bespectacled youth was not what he expected. "You're Raymond right?" Birkoff looked the man over. He looked harmless but then so did Michael when he wanted to. And Birkoff knew how wrong that image was.
Raymond nodded. "Yes and you are?" His visitor seemed young, barely in his 20s and slightly ill at ease. From what he had gathered from Michael, Section One used people who otherwise didn't have much going for them. They were almost a recycling center. Now what would have happened to this one to have caused him to be thrown in the trash heap?
"Birkoff....umm...Operations wants to see you....in about 10 minutes. Up in his office." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. This guy had the same kind of look that Michael and Madeline had....always trying to figure out what you were thinking. Or what your next move was going to be. ....we don't need another head cop around here!
"In 10...ok. I have a question. Do you know anything about this computer setup? I thought I was fairly literate but...." Raymond motioned helplessly at the monitor. "...I'm clueless here."
Ambling over, Birkoff hit a few keys and the system hummed to life. "I hadn't given you access yet. You can play the games for now and write stuff but nothing else. They haven't given me the go ahead yet."
"Oh, at least I'm not as clueless as I thought...I think. All right, Operations, I believe you said wants to see me. I need some directions. I have not seen very much of this place."
Inclining his head towards the door, Birkoff replied; "No problem, follow me." For several feet down the hallway, Raymond stayed just behind Birkoff absorbing the feel of his surroundings. He could feel the incredibly thick thread of tension that ran through everyone, including Birkoff. "What do you do here, Birkoff?"
"Run ops basically. Others might tell you I'm Operations' lapdog. I beg to differ with that. But some people..." He shrugged.
"How long have you been here?" He caught the hitch in the young man's step at the question.
"Long enough to know when to bug and when not to bug...." Birkoff said shortly. They started to cross the center circle when Michael at a console caught Raymond's attention. He slowed up watching the interactions between him and those around him.
Michael was obviously in charge but he also expected each person there to be in charge of themselves. He was a coach and an overseer at the same time. Raymond watched as his eyes darted from monitor to monitor as well as answering questions that came at him from various positions around him. Feeling eyes, Michael looked in his direction. Their eyes locked for an instant before Michael's went back to the monitors that hung from the ceiling near him.
The back and forth motion of Birkoff's head got his attention. Birkoff looked over his shoulder at Raymond. "Yeah, I still don't understand how he keeps track of so much at once. I have screens to help me. He does it in his head. He can drive you crazy until you get used to working with him. He never stops and can change on a dime to make it work. Always looking for the angle to get it done."
Now Raymond had the feeling of being watched. He looked up to see a man dressed in dark colors like Michael and mostly gray hair staring at him from behind wire rimmed glasses. He could feel Michael's eyes too and knew they followed the direction of his own. He shifted his gaze from the man above back to him. The green ones quickly looked away and back to the monitor in front of him. Raymond didn't like that. Secrets were a trap around here with serious consequences for those involved. He had no idea where that notion came from, but he sensed that it was terribly true. They hid from each other.
It did not take much longer to reach the upper office. The time had been long enough for Operations to settle in his chair and light a cheroot. He exhaled a small puff of smoke as Raymond entered the room. "Thank you Birkoff. Find Simon for me...I want a report on Kassov's men by sunrise."
"Yes sir." Birkoff quickly disappeared and Raymond was left in silence with the man who could only be the one Michael had referred to as Operations. The man blew another puff of smoke into the air.
"Is this how someone of your background would bless his gods?" Operations put down the tobacco to see Raymond's reaction.
Determined to control the 'interview' the way he had with Madeline, Raymond sat in the chair in front of the desk uninvited. He leaned back and crossed a leg to a knee. He considered Operations for a moment before he spoke. "Depends on what I was seeking in way of a favor. At the time, nothing. But you may want to ask a blessing. I can see you are seeking something. I've learned that absolute control is at best an illusion. You look for it too long and too hard...the illusion gains control over you."
Operations smiled. "There's always the exception to the rule." He took note of Raymond's attitude. The man was unruffled and appeared almost relaxed. There was a bit of respect present for that. And he had viewed some of the discussion that had taken place with Madeline. Raymond had set her back on her heels. Besides, if he could get to Michael as quickly as he had, what could he do to others. Things looked promising.
Raymond returned the smile. "No one said it was a rule. Illusions don't go by them."
Raising an eyebrow, Operations fired the next shot. "Neither do I. Must be why illusions and I get along so well." The look he received from Raymond trickled down his spine like one from Michael. It unsettled him.
"You may be the master of the illusions that you create but not of those that are created for you."
"And what do you mean by that?" Operations shifted in his chair. He didn't like veiled comments even though he lived with them every waking moment.
Raymond continued to look at him in silence for a few moments longer then softly said, "As the witches in Hamlet cackled 'fair is foul and foul is fair.' What you see is not always true and subject to rapid change. You might call it a 'whim factor'. There is a lot that goes on no matter how you plan and plot that you will never be able to control. There are those whom you believe bent to your will but they are the ones who best fool you."
Clearing his throat and not wanting to debate the point further, Operations stood and walked over to the glass. "I'll keep your 'lesson' in mind. Tell me why you're here." He looked down into ops. He noticed Michael off to the side talking to another operative at a lone console. The rigidness that had been with him since the night at the cabin was still there. He wondered if it would ever not be again. He tensed as Michael looked up at him and for an instant he saw strong anger and he could have swore absolute hatred before the neutral expression took over.
Silently getting to his feet and advancing to just behind Operations, Raymond observed the eye play between the two men. He didn't miss the look in Michael's eyes and the fleeting hurt in Operations' either. "You created it. Only you can stop it."
"Created what?" Operations didn't turn around. He watched as what he hoped to be the future straighten up, buttoning his jacket then turn and walk through a doorway.
"His hate. He covers and deals with it but not completely. In a way, you've become Philippe for him. He views you both the same way and with the same amount of loathing. One day it will boil over and there will be no chance to express regrets. You've already seen what the beginning of it will be like. You saw it when you tried to take Nikita away. Now it's the boy and the girl. It's eating at him, bit by bit. He's one of the illusions. You can't keep it the way you want for long. This will explode. And when it does, you will not be able to brush it aside."
"That's why you're going to help Madeline get things back to normal." Operations turned to stare down Raymond. "Get rid of it. Defuse it."
"I don't think that's possible while you live. Or while this place still exists. Unless you try to make it better. Unless you make peace...."
End of part six...
written by Tammy
Continue on to Perchance To Dream, part seven
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