Black Ops Series: Out of Mind

by Ndfarmer80

After a wild night out, Michael is confronted with a truth he had long since tried to ignore.

1. Out of Mind

Hadal Zone: Chapter 3 Out of mind

Romeo pulled hard, trying to heft the near lifeless body up the porch steps.

"Jeez! What the hell does this guy eat?" asked Tarek. "He is heavy as hell!"

"Just get him in the house as quietly as possible," said Romeo.

They pulled Michael's near lifeless body through the house and down the steps of the bunker. Romeo pressed Michael's hand to the palm reader and opened the door. They pulled him through the corridor and into the open floor area of communications. Michael groaned, beginning to come to.

"Shit, he's waking up," said Tarek.

"Keep moving. Let's just get him to his room so we can get the hell out of here."

"Who's bright idea was it to invite him out anyway?"

"I thought the guy could use a night out on the town. He is always so uptight."

Michael's head swiveled back, his mouth opening. He mumbled something incoherent. Romeo and Tarek tried to move as fast as they could, but found maneuvering with a dead weight Michael was proving to be more difficult than they had planned. With Michael awakening, things were becoming even more problematic as he was starting to shuffle his feet about.

"I'mma be a freak all through the day until the dawn," Michael began singing slowly slurring his words.

Romeo and Tarek hustled towards Michael's room, dragging him along. Michael opened his eyes and smiled. He swiveled his head towards Romeo, grinning drunkenly.

"Hi-ee," he said.

"What's up, my man. You're gonna be okay," Romeo reassured.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Romeo, man. C'mon, you gotta help me get you to your bed."

A worried expression colored Michael's face.

"Are we sleeping together? 'Cause I really don't wanna do that. I'd be a horrible lay."

Romeo looked confused. "No, man!"

"Great," said Michael. He swiveled his head over to the other side where Tarek was holding him. "Am I sleeping with you, then? No offense, you're cute but...no."

Tarek only rolled his eyes. Michael's head lolled backward between his shoulders.

"Well, who am I sleeping with? I hope it's a really cute girl...with big...breasts."

"You're not sleeping with anybody, buddy. Just yourself," said Romeo.

"Okay, I get to sleep with me tonight...yeah," said Michael, then he let out a frustrated moan. "I don't wanna sleep with me."

"Let's hurry and get this guy into bed and get the fuck out of here," said Tarek.

They made it to Michael's room and pushed open the door. The rest of the bunker was dark and quiet with only a few noises from sleeping recruits. They shuffled through the darkness towards the structure that they supposed was Michael's bed and dumped him on top of the tightly made up bed. Michael let out a very loud objection followed by a few french words that Romeo and Tarek guessed weren't expressions of appreciation. In the darkness, Michael's light eyes burned with subdued fury for a moment before quieting down once more. His smile returned and he reached and grabbed Romeo by the face. He landed kisses on both sides of his cheeks.

"You are so precious," Michael said holding Romeo's face hostage. "Don't be anybody's bitch."

Romeo nodded and pulled himself away from Michael's grasp. Tarek began pulling off Michael's shoes. He had already wrestled off one shoe when Romeo looked at him and stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting him in the bed," said Tarek.

"Just leave the shoes on," said Romeo.

"I'm gonna give you guys ten minutes to cut that out," Michael slurred. "Maybe fifteen."
Michael began laughing loudly, pulling his legs up so that Tarek could not tickle his feet any more. Romeo quickly tried to shush Michael, but only resulted in him mimicking him and giggling.

"Be quiet, man!" Romeo said in a hushed voice.

"What's going on?"

Romeo turned and saw Evelyn standing in the doorway, fists on her hips and glaring at them. Tarek stood straight up, trying to look as guitless as possible. Romeo straightened, his mouth open and empty of excuses. Michael continued to laugh uncontrollably with one shoeless foot dangling off the bed. Evelyn assessed the room and turned her attention to Michael. She then looked at Romeo, demanding an explanation.

"I swear he was like this when I found him," said Romeo uselessly.

"What happened to him?" asked Evelyn, stepping into the room.

"Uh," Romeo began, but knew there was no excuse he could give to explain Michael's condition.

"Shots, shots, shots shots shots shots, shots!" Michael chanted, repeating one of the songs that played in the club they were in hours before. He began to laugh again, sounding maniacal.

"Is he drunk?" asked Evelyn.

Romeo looked down at Michael and the crazy grin that was blanketing his face.

"Maybe a little."

"I'm so fucked!" Michael said then laughed again.

"Where did y'all go?" Evelyn pushed Romeo out the way and leaned down to look at Michael more closely.

She turned on the bedside lamp on the desk and saw Michael's condition fully. He was wet with sweat, rosy cheeked and looking delirious. His hair was wild on his head. The navy blue button down shirt he wore was open mostly save a few crooked buttons towards his navel. The shirt was soaking wet and reeked of alcohol. His eyes were red rimmed and unable to focus on any one thing. He grinned at Evelyn and reached to touch her face, but his strength left him long before he could touch her.

"We went out to the Boiler Room," Romeo admitted.

"Tarek, go get me a wet towel from the bathroom," Evelyn instructed. She sat down on the bed beside Michael and pushed his head up onto the pillow. He continued to look at her with adoring eyes. "Who were the we?"

Romeo swallowed hard. Tarek returned with a wet towel and handed it to Evelyn. She placed it over Michael's forehead, wiping away some of the sweat.

"You know," Romeo began. "My usual group of guys."

"Your Uptown Posse?" Evelyn said warily.

"Yeah," Romeo smiled, happy that the name was sticking, but the feeling did not last long. He rubbed the back of his head. "Me, Tarek, my boy D'Marco, Dorian...and..."

"And who else, Romeo?" Evelyn padded around Michael's face. He continued to go between smiling and looking somewhat somber as he was beginning to calm down.

"We didn't meet up with him until after we left the Boiler Room and went back over to The Den. That's when we kinda lost track of one another," said Romeo. "Everybody spread out. I left him over in a booth and he was cool. Next thing I know, he was gone."

"Who?" Evelyn looked at Romeo, tired of his excuses.

Romeo grimaced. "Santino."

"You let him drink with Santino? You know better than to let *anyone* drink with Santino! For Christ sake, you could have killed him!"

Romeo shrugged. "He looked like he was doing alright to me. He was slamming drinks back like everyone else. I didn't know he was going to get this fucked up. I wasn't over there with him and San. I don't know what they were drinking."

"Jager mostly," said Tarek. "I think I saw some Absolut and Patron get passed around."

"Oh yea," Romeo perked up, "Then there was all that 1800, and I don't know how many jello shots we took. They just kept coming-"
"Romeo!" Evelyn said, her tone full of warning.

Michael groaned again, his eyes began to roll back in his head.

"Somebody slow the earth down," Michael whined, grabbing his face with both hands.

"Get me some water," Evelyn instructed.

Tarek moved fast, eager to get away from the situation.

"Romeo..." Evelyn began, but did not have words to finish her thought.

Tarek returned with a small cup of water. Evelyn took it then helped Michael's head up so that he could sip the water. At first, he pulled away, shaking his head no.

"No, no no," he moaned. "No more shots. I done."

"Drink some water, Michael. It will help," Evelyn coaxed. She was able to force in a little bit of water before he tore his lips away from the paper cup. "You guys go ahead and get into bed. I'll deal with you in the morning."

"We really didn't mean for this to happen," Romeo said. "We just wanted him to have a good time. That's all."

"Go to bed Romeo," Evelyn said sternly.

"Miss E..."

"Bed!" Evelyn shot a look at Romeo that clearly stated she was done talking with him.

Romeo hesitated before leaving the room with Tarek. Behind him, he could hear Evelyn trying to coax Michael into taking another sip. He responded with something french that probably was not nice as his tone sounded agitated. Tarek walked up next to Romeo as they made their way towards the quarters.

"What do you think she'll do to us tomorrow?" asked Tarek.

Romeo shrugged. "I dunno. Probably leave us out in the desert to die."

Tarek thought about his fate come sunrise. "We should have never taken him with us."

"I just wanted the guy to have some fun," said Romeo. He sat down on his bed. "How was I supposed to know he'd go buck wild once he got out."

Evelyn returned from the bathroom with a freshly soaked cloth and put it on Michael's forehead. He was much calmer now, humming a song lingering within his swimming mind. Evelyn began pulling off his other shoe, then unbuttoned his irregular shirt. She took the cloth from his head and rubbed it over his chest, squeezing it a little so that the icy water ran over his body, cooling it down. His body was still moving, swaying with the words of a song that only he could hear. Evelyn began working with his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them off his body. She had to work a bit to get the dress pants down and over his rear end as he was not offering any help whatsoever in her efforts. Instead, he continued to hum a melody and wave his hands about to the tempo. Once she had the pants off, she began working with the alcohol soaked shirt and eased it off his body. Once the shirt was off, Evelyn tossed it to the floor along with the pants. She returned to Michael and found him staring up at her, his eyes looking very soulful and sincere. Evelyn looked down at him tenderly, stroking the side of his face. He smiled again, looking sweet and small despite the rest of him.

He began speaking to her in french, telling her something that she could not understand. She looked at him with question. He raised up on his side and took her hand in his. He spoke more french, his eyes giving deep meaning to the words that Evelyn wished she knew. He seemed so committed to them as he spoke from his heart. He began to draw her closer to kiss her, but Evelyn pulled back slightly.

"What are you saying?"

Michael's eyes searched her face.

"I said, I have loved to the point of madness. That which some call madness, but which to me, is the only way to love. It is a quote from the poet Francoise Sagan."

He kissed her fingers lightly, his lips lingering long on her hand a moment before lifting his eyes back up to her once more.

"You have driven me to the point of insanity, and I don't know myself anymore. But in your kiss, I find me. Let me find myself in you once more."

Evelyn did not resist him. She pulled him closer to her and kissed his lips gently. He tried to press for more, but she softly eased him back against his pillow. His expression crossed between desperate need and hopeless confusion from the still stirring effects of the alcohol. He closed his eyes and lay a hand across them. Evelyn pulled his blankets up over him and tucked him into bed. Before she lifted from the bed, he caught her hand, rubbing her fingers with his thumb.

"Thank you," he said in his normal quiet manner.

"I'll come by and check on you in a few minutes," said Evelyn.

Michael nodded. Evelyn started to pull away, but he held onto her a moment more before letting go. As she left the room, she could hear him humming again a song which he then began to sing.

"Alouette, gentille alouette...Alouette, je te plumerai. Wee!"

The first thought that Michael had when he awoke was not so much a thought as it was a feeling of dreaded realization. His head still swam a little from the previous night's carousing. His temples throbbed as if being banged with large drum mallets. His tongue felt large and dry like he had been licking carpet and eating paper all night. There was a disgusting taste lingering at the back of his mouth reminding him of the last thing he remembered drinking that evening. It had been a shot Santino called a Three Wise Men. They had pounded it at the table they were seated at a club Michael could not remember the name of. The only thing he could remember was that it seemed vaguely familiar to him. The night, itself, was recalled in snatches of time. He remembered calling Romeo after leaving Evelyn's apartment and telling him that he would come out with him for a few hours, but would not be out with them the entire night. Romeo was excited and promised to show him a fun time no matter what. He had returned to the bunker and found something to wear a bit closer to his normal aesthetic. A navy blue button down and a pair of black pants was all that he felt he would need for the evening. Romeo found him in his room combing back his hair and greeted with his normal energetic fervor. He was dressed in a black button down shirt and dark colored blue jeans and boots. He looked very polished and made Michael appreciate that he was not always in basketball jerseys and bandanas. He had a sense of style that did at the very least venture towards more classic pieces. Tarek, on the other hand, seemed comfortable in his jersey and baseball cap as he strode out to Romeo's lowrider. All three of them piled in and took off into the night headed for unknown adventures.

Michael lifted up off the bed, noticing he was mostly undressed. He only had on his boxer briefs and wondered who had taken off his clothes, and for what reason. His body was a little achy. He thought fearfully what had actually happened to him last night. His eyes darted towards the bathroom, hoping no one he would not want to see came out of the closed door. Instead, his room door opened allowing in Evelyn. She was carrying a tray of food and juice which she sat on the desk next to his bed. Michael relaxed a little, happy to see Evelyn and not someone else coming into his room. She put two antacid tablets into a glass of water and waited a moment for it to dissolve before handing him the glass.

"Drink this," she said, not really asking.

Michael took the glass and drank the fizzy concoction completely before handing her back the empty glass. Evelyn put the glass on the tray before returning to check his eyes, pulling them open a bit more to see if they were still red. She went back to the tray and selected eye drops. She positioned herself to put the drops in his eyes. Michael stilled her hand.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"Your eyes are still bloodshot," Evelyn explained. "You have a conference call in a half hour. I can't have you looking like Dracula while on the call. Lean your head back and try not to blink a lot."

Michael did as instructed and allowed Evelyn to put the eye drops in his eyes. Even though he blinked out of reflex, the drops went in. He wiped away the excess as Evelyn put the drops back on the tray. She sighed, finished with her work and rested her hands on her lap. Michael turned to his side.

"How bad is it?" Michael asked, knowing from the way Evelyn was looking at him that he might not like her answer.

"It was pretty bad," said Evelyn. "I thought I was going to lose you last night."

"That bad, huh."

"Why did you do that to yourself?" Evelyn looked at Michael with more than questioning in her eyes. He could see she was deeply concerned. "Why?"

Michael really did not have any answers that he could give, at least none that he dared to share. He had a million reasons why he had lost control, but none of them would have made any sense to Evelyn. She had not experienced Section the way that he had. She had not been buried within its lies and secrets. She did not know the dark corners of its halls, or its white rooms that smelled faintly of death. She had not seen the skeletons stored within its closets, nor did she have to mop up the blood trails those skeletons left behind. He had not meant to drink himself into oblivion. Oblivion came to him with open arms inviting him towards its madness and folded him within it. He had felt free in those first few moments before the shadows overtook him. He was free to laugh and shout, to dance and smile genuinely. His heart was open and there was nothing between himself and life euphoria. Even though he did not clearly recall everything that happened the night before, he knew that he had lived, and that he was reckless and dangerously unrestrained.

"How did I get here?"

"Tarek and Romeo dragged you here. You were barely conscious. I've been up with you the entire night taking care of you and making sure you didn't die from alcohol poisoning."

Michael shook his head, trying to clear it. The antacid medicine helped to calm down his stomach, which he had only begun to feel the horrible twisting inside. He rubbed his head pounding going on between his temples was nearly unbearable. Evelyn handed him two aspirins. He popped them in his mouth and drank some orange juice behind it.

"Do you remember anything at all about last night?" asked Evelyn.

Michael shook his head no. Evelyn sighed heavily, rising slowly from the bed. She started out of the room.

"Be in my office in twenty for the call."

She left without looking back. Michael lay for a moment more, still trying to recall the rest of the evening. Images came to mind of what he might have done or seen, but nothing was completely vivid or concrete. He could not be sure if what he remembered was part of a drunken dream, or had it been him behaving in such a careless and chaotic way. He sat up and ate the food that Evelyn brought him which consisted of plain toast, scrambled eggs, an apple and a glass of orange juice. He ate it all, testing his stomach's fortitude as he came to the eggs. Thankfully, he was able to keep them down and even enjoy them a little. He showered and got dressed into a blue/grey t-shirt and dress pants. He checked his watch and saw that he had less than a minute to make it to Evelyn's office for the call. He went out of his room, leaving it in a mess of clothes and sheets. A tiny part of him wanted to return to the room and straighten it up immediately, but there was no time. He made it to Evelyn's office just in time for the conference call to begin. He pushed back his hair from his face and stood behind Evelyn as she logged in. He put in his login as well and waited for Operations to appear on the monitor.

"Good morning," said Operations with his usual pleasant grin. "How have you two been?"

"Good," Evelyn answered.

"Got-Damn Michael, you look terrible," Operations said flatly. "Something going on I should know about?"

"No sir," said Michael slowly. His head still hurt beyond comprehension. "I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately is all."

Operations paused a moment, assessing Michael's demeanor. "Well...Take care of yourself, Michael. We don't need you being sick while you're in training. Have you been able to review those files Birkoff sent to your inbox?"

Michael nodded, recalling seeing some profiles labeled *Confidential*. He had scrubbed through the different names and locations of target groups in the Great Britain area. They were following several anti-government factions that claimed to be working towards reformation of one cause or another. It no longer mattered to Michael the reasons why people gave themselves to persecute and destroy one another. His job was not to figure that out. His job was only to enforce that the set rules were adhered to per the results of the Hague Conventions.

"I have seen them."

"I'll expect a full report of your determinations by tomorrow morning. 7am. Now, tell me, how are things progressing with training? Are you learning as much as you can from Evelyn?"

"She has taught me a lot," said Michael. He stopped himself from smiling a little about all the other things Evelyn had taught him that had nothing to do with Section.

"Good!" said Operations. "I'm glad to hear that you are taking this time to improve your field mechanics and maybe even assist with helping the team get more organized."

"Certainly," said Michael.

"Well, unless you have something for me to discuss, I think this is the best time to say goodbye."

"Good bye, sir," said Michael respectfully.

"Good bye, sir," said Evelyn.

Operations disappeared from the screen. Evelyn got up from her seat and started out of the office, Michael watched, feeling a little confused at her behavior. He said nothing as she continued, but then stopped just before leaving completely out the office.

"I expected more from you, Michael. Sometimes I think you're taking all this seriously, and other times I think you're just playing. This isn't a vacation for you to cut loose and act silly with the rest of them. This is still a mission, one that I had hoped you might want to complete."

Michael thought about what Evelyn said, and considered her meaning. He knew he had disappointed her with going out and getting drunk with the other members of her team. He had not intended on the evening going the way that it had. He wanted to blame outside influences forcing him into behaving outside of himself, but the truth was, the behavior had been inside him, locked away all the while. He had given himself permission to take liberties where he used to not, to allow thoughts and actions he normally would forbid, and display emotion he usually held down. He could say that it was the lure of the promise being inside the house that made him begin to think differently about what his life could be. He could also say that because of his relationship with Evelyn, that he further assumed that he could strip away all the things that Section had made him become and be the man he truly wanted to be. Yet, in all of this, he knew that ultimately, he could not put aside himself in favor of being someone else entirely. The man last night was not him, and he knew it. The man last night had no direction, no morales, and no principles to which he could stand to cement himself. It was his Id freeing itself of all that kept it bound. There was a reason why he always needed to be controlled, a reason why he never allowed himself to react impulsively or irrationally. He knew that if he ever fully released his grip on himself, he would become a true horror to everyone around him. If he continued, there would be no end to the depths of depravity to which he could sink.

"There are no words that could explain myself from last night," Michael began. "All that I can do is apologize for it. I do take your cause seriously, and I mean to finish what Simone began."

Evelyn turned to Michael. "Not just Simone. I began it, too. And I've continued this work, my life's dedication, I don't want you to do this out of obligation towards anyone. Not to Simone, or to me. I want you to want to do this because it's something that you believe in as well. Because you see it just as important as the missions you lead at your Section. Do it because you believe in it."

"I want to help you," said Michael, taking a step closer.

"But do you believe in it?"

Michael looked into Evelyn's eyes and saw she was near breaking. He could see the subtle trembling she attempted to hide in her lips, and the flood of emotion filling her eyes. In spite of all that he disliked about the Outpost, its loud noises, constant crowding, and tendency towards absurdity, he would tolerate it all if it meant that he could hold her close to him. The strength of his need for her grew stronger as he drew closer to her, so much so that his skin burned to feel her. He was becoming overwhelmed suddenly with thoughts of their coupling and yearned to have her once more. He would tell her anything she wanted to hear if he could only touch her skin. He would believe anything she asked him to believe if he could taste her once more.

"I will," said Michael resolutely.

Evelyn smiled and came to him with open arms. She took his face into her hands and softly kissed his lips. When she started to pull away, he grabbed her back to him and kissed her deeply, expressing himself fully. For a moment, she indulged him, gripping the back of his head. When he pressed for more, she pushed him back gently. He retreated respectfully, sinking back on his heels. She caught her breath a little and smiled holding promise in her eyes for a moment together later. Michael reached for her hand and kissed it. Silently, Evelyn backed out of the room holding him in her gaze until she could no longer see him again. Michael closed his eyes and breathed out. He resolved himself to moving on with the day as best he could manage with both thoughts of Evelyn and questions about what he did the night before raging about in his still pounding head.

He returned to his own room where he began cleaning up, discovering parts of the night as he sifted through the clothes he wore left stinking in a pile on the floor. He turned his pockets inside out and found a crumple of assorted papers and napkins with phone numbers of different women scribbled on each piece. Some numbers were faded nearly away from having been soaked through with alcohol. Others, he could read plainly. He checked his back pockets and found yet more pieces of paper with phone numbers on them. He piled them all on his desk and went to collect his shirt and socks.

"What up, money!" Romeo walked into the room smiling.

Michael looked up briefly and gave a half smile. Romeo looked around the room and pinched his nose in disgust.

"What the hell? It smells like a distillery in here."

"I know," said Michael, not much enjoying the stench either. He was eager to get rid of the clothes, even considering just burning them. He was sure, with them already soaked through with an accelerant, they would go up quick.

"You are definitely party rock!" said Romeo with a wide smile. "Yo! Hat's off to you, man. You are a legend now!"

Michael searched around for a bag to put his clothes in. He found a trash bag in the bottom of his barely used waste basket.

\ "What are you talking about, Romeo?" asked Michael as he shoved his clothes into the bag and tied it tight.

"What am I talking about?" Romeo became excited. "Yo, man. You ripped the club *down*. We had to drag yo ass outta there!"

Michael began removing his sheets from the bed.

"What did I do?"

"Everything! What *didn't* you do? Man, you were straight up wildin'! I never knew you had all that in you, but, you know what they say about the quiet type. They are the biggest freaks!" Romeo sat down in the chair at Michael's desk. "I see now why you don't go out often, 'cause when you do, you go bananas."

Michael pulled roughly at the fitted sheet. Although he was curious as to what his behavior had been the night before, he was not enjoying Romeo's humorous recount. He could only imagine just how foolish he had been while out on the town.

"I feel bad, though," Romeo was saying. "If I had kept you with me the whole night, you probably wouldn't have gotten as fucked up as you did. I shouldn't have ever let you drink with Santino. That was my bad. I'm sorry, bro."

Michael balled up his sheets and put them in a pile next to the door. He went into his wardrobe cabinet and found the cleaning supplies he used for the room. There was a box of baking soda that Arlene stashed along with the rest of the supplies. Michael opened the box and began spreading a fine layer over the mattress.

"But, up until then, you were off the chain," said Romeo. "I got some pictures if you wanna see."

Michael turned and looked at Romeo. The last thing that he wanted to know was that there was physical evidence of his debauchery. He went over to Romeo and held his hand out for his phone. Romeo quickly accessed his photos on his phone and gave them to Michael to view, pointing out each photo and what was going on in the still frame.

"That's all of us at The Boiler Room. That's where we first went."

Michael saw them all seated at a table raising their glasses for the photo. He was seated beside Romeo, holding up his glass and looking somewhat unsure, but content nonetheless. Beside him, a swarthy skinned young gentleman, with delicate features, dark brown eyes, and curly hair sat smiling easily. He wore a dark colored shirt and several gold chains about his neck, the largest being weighted with a huge golden medallion resting in the middle of his well defined chest. Romeo said his name was D'Marco. He was another Valentine Operative from another Section Agency. He was on a two-week mandatory down time and had responded to Romeo's call to party out in the desert. Beside him was another gentleman, named Dorian. Michael could not help but think of Dorian as someone who was more like himself than any of the other men at the table. He was thinly built, holding a quiet ease to his frame that made him look relaxed no matter how he sat. His hair was jet black and kept slightly unkempt. His features were neat, and angled with powerful blue eyes that could halt anyone in their tracks. He was also a Valentine Operative, Michael learned. It was then that Michael understood why Romeo had questions about becoming one himself. All of his friends already were, and they all undoubtedly told him of their exploits during their missions while sitting around drinking. The next photo was more of the same. The men were sitting around the table, drinking. Michael could tell it was a little later on from the first photo as there were now a growing collection of beer bottles and drinks on the table. There was also a platter of half eaten chili fries in the center of the table. Michael did not remember eating anything at all, but, according to the photo, he was indulging in a handful of fries.

The next photo was later on. He was holding up a shot drink with his arm around the man called Dorian. There was a sly grin on Dorian's face and Michael looked distantly amused. The next photo had them toasting one another. The next, they were shooting the drink simultaneously. The next, they were hugging.

"I really liked that one," said Romeo, looking over Michael's shoulder now. "You guys really hit it off."

Michael could agree that from the photos, he looked like he had built a brotherly relationship with the guy named Dorian. It was just too bad that he didn't remember a thing about him, much less even meeting him. Michael scrolled through several more photos of random people and activities that colored in much of the evening. He could recall some events through the night after viewing a photo, but he could not fully recollect the evening, or how it was that he had become so intoxicated.

"Now this one here! This one is when you started to get loose," said Romeo, beaming.

Michael selected the picture and was taken aback. In the photo, his shirt was open and he was on the dance floor sandwiched between two latino women. His head was thrown back as if in the midst of ecstasy as the women pressed themselves against him. One hand was on the woman's breast in front of him while the other reached back around to the one behind him. Michael did not remember even getting up from the table. The next few photos were more of the other men at the table in various conditions of drunkenness. It was clear from one photo the first one to go down was Dorian. His photo had been snapped with him lying face down on the table surrounded by women and several shot glasses. Off to the side, Michael could see a part of himself, slumped down in the booth, appearing to be talking with a young lady. He could only imagine what he was saying to her as he looked wild and unkempt already. There were more photos of Romeo and something going on in the bathroom with a smiling young woman. Romeo quickly snatched back the phone.

"Hold up, you don't need to see all that," said Romeo.

Michael smirked. He quickly snapped the phone back and continued scrolling through the photos. Romeo tried to regain his phone, but only received a quick stinging smack to the back of his hand. Romeo reacted and rubbed his hand. After a few more photos, Michael recognized that they had changed locations.

"We went to The Den?"

"Yeah," said Romeo, still rubbing his hand. "I heard this group LMFAO was going to be there."

"Who are they?" said Michael, scrolling a little slower through the photos.

"Kinda like a electronic dance group. They are pretty dope. You liked them a lot."

"I did?"

"Yup. You and Dorian. You two really turned up."

Michael viewed more photos of him getting more and more trashed as the night went on. By the time he reached the end of the photo stream, He was both amazed he was even standing and embarrassed that the evening was caught on tape. There were photos of him yelling out, of him drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and dancing awkwardly. There was a video of him and Dorian sitting in a booth, fully engrossed in a song called "Outta Your Mind", eyes closed and shaking their heads to the beat. The video only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to confirm that Michael had truly lost himself.

"Yo, that was hype," said Romeo.

Michael leaned against the wall, feeling overwhelmed. His head still hurt, but now the pain was coming from memories of the evening flooding back. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"Is there anything else that happened?" Michael dared to ask.

"Well, if you mean that time you got up on the bar and started spraying females with champagne bottles during the *Shots* song. That's how you got your shirt all wet. You were drinking Kamikazes with Santino by that point."

Michael nodded. He handed the phone back to Romeo and stood to his feet. Romeo continued to review some of his other photos on the phone and smiling with remembered glee.

"Erase it," said Michael.

"What you talking, man? I'm not erasing a damn thing! That night was epic!"

Michael turned to Romeo and leveled his stoney gaze with him.

"Erase it. All of it."

Romeo stared back with both confusion and a little concern for himself.

"Why?"

"Because, Romeo. You have photos of four Section operatives on your phone. It's bad enough that we were all in one place at the same time. You have to erase the pictures. If even one photo gets leaked, we could all be identified. You have to erase it."

Romeo looked at his phone, realizing the truth in Michael's words.

"Are there any more photos?"

Romeo nodded slowly. "Tarek, I think,"

"You'll have to get his phone, too. Erase every picture of any of us together."
Romeo nodded, understanding. He quietly began deleting the pictures that showed them all together or doing something on their own. Michael waited as Romeo finished clearing out his photo log, watching him closely to make sure that he did exactly as told. When it looked like he was finished, Michael held out his hand for the phone. Reluctantly, Romeo handed over the phone. Michael scanned through the pictures again, finding there were still a few pictures remaining that did not necessarily show them all together, but their faces were seen in the background of another photo. Michael deleted those pictures as well.

"Oh man! What the hell! She was hot! Why did you delete that one?" Romeo was more than a little upset.

"You can see the side of D'Marco's face. He could be identified from that."

"And the picture of Laura? The girl wearing the pink fur jacket? Did you delete that?"

"I'm behind her."

"But you couldn't even see your face!"

"Doesn't matter. The fact that I'm behind her means the picture has to be destroyed."

Michael reviewed the photo stream once more before handing the phone back to Romeo. He turned and began searching for a change of sheets in the bottom half of the wardrobe unit. He found a set of stark white sheets to put on the bed. Romeo stared at his phone, realizing that all the pictures he had laboriously taken the night before were gone in only a few minutes. He looked at Michael as he dressed his bed. He wanted to say more, but decided against it. He started towards the door, looking more sad than what Michael ever saw him.

"Romeo," called Michael, pausing what he was doing.

Romeo turned, his countenance very crestfallen.

"In Section, we have no faces. We are nameless apparitions. It's the reason why I don't go out. What's the point in being a part of a world that isn't supposed to know that you exist? You'll have to understand that if you truly want to be with Section."

Romeo nodded. "Yeah. I get it."

"Be sure to get Tarek's phone."

"Sure."

Michael returned to making his bed. Romeo turned on his heels and left the room.

The music began again as it always did. The familiar thud of yet another hip hop beat rumbled through the bunker sending vibrations through Michael's spine. He readjusted, positioning himself in a more comfortable position that was not much different than the way he had been sitting. He studied the surveillance footage sent to him by one of Evelyn's in field agents of a lab facility just over the border. From what he could see, the building and its surrounding structures were constantly patrolled by a team of twelve guards working in shifts. There was about a five to seven minute break between shifts where there was light patrol which left a pretty sizeable hole for a strike team to slip through their defenses. Michael drew on a sheet of paper the main structure where the team needed to concentrate their charges. The rough sketch detailed their entry points, hot spots, and egress points. He sat back in his seat and looked at his mock up, recalling the last time he had to do something similar. It was during a mission in Germany. He had a team of six, three of them abeyance operatives, two of them, highly trained Level 3 operatives. Only Nikita was a Level 2 Operative, yet she was the only one that got his plan almost immediately without him having to explain much. He had looked at her, highly impressed as she relayed his plan to the other operatives in a way that they could understand better. He remembered how she looked back at him and winked. It was in those moments that he knew he more than cared for her. She always had his back. She forever would.

Michael got up from his seat and stretched. He grabbed the mock up and the surveillance file to take to Evelyn's office. Outside his room, the music was unbearably loud. He was still a little shaky from the night before, but he had begun recovering with the aid of more antacids and orange juice cut with some water so that it did not land so harshly on his stomach. He walked to Evelyn's office and looked inside. She was busy on her own computer, typing something. Michael tapped the door frame lightly, drawing her attention. She looked up, her brown eyes at first looked confused and frustrated at the interruption. When she noticed it was Michael, her expression changed into a softer expression and a smile slipped up onto her lips.

"Got a sec?" Michael asked informally.

"Always," said Evelyn. She quickly made a few keystrokes on her keyboard, then leaned back in her seat.

Michael brought over the mock ups and the surveillance file. He handed them to Evelyn and watched as she loaded the file into her computer.

"The lab has a hole of about seven minutes. We can get a team in to distribute the charges and get them out at the egress in under ten minutes. Whoever we send in will have to be quick and precise. They have enough manpower to set off a war," said Michael.

Evelyn looked over Michael's rough drawing of the main lab building. She pointed at a marking he made at an area that looked like a containment area.

"What's this here?"

"It's a possible place where hostages may be held. We may need to check it to be sure that we don't incinerate innocent people."

Evelyn grinned and nodded. "Will we have enough time?"

"If there is no one there, yes. If there is, we may have to delay the charges."

"Won't that risk us being discovered?"

"We will have already been exposed by the time we reach second position. We will need a second team to assist with providing cover fire for when we start to take hits."

"I'll get on the phone and see who I can drum up."

"Will they be ready by tonight?"

Evelyn took a moment to think. She rubbed the top of her head, her expression reading her uncertainty.

"They will be ready," she concluded. "They will have to be. If they aren't, we are going in anyway."

Michael sat down partially on the edge of Evelyn's desk. He leaned in so that she looked him in his eyes.

"The plan only works if we have that secondary team to back us up. Without them, we would not make it out alive, much less rescue anyone else that might be in there."

Evelyn leaned towards him. Michael reached for her hands and held them between his cupped ones. He could see that she was tormented internally over something. Her eyes told him she was struggling to keep her mind together. Her palms were sweating. She was nervous, but was trying to cover it with being tough and brave. He reached for her face and touched her cheek. She drew back at first, not willing to be comforted. Michael got up from the desk and circled over to her. He brushed the back of his hand over her shoulder and massaged her neck. He could feel her relax into his touch. He bent down and swiveled her chair so that she faced him. He took her hands again into his and looked her in her eyes once more.

"We will make it work," he said with meaning. "It will work."

Evelyn nodded. Michael pressed forward and kissed her forehead. He began to right himself when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. She was not crying, but he could feel her shaking. He hugged her. His body reacted as it always did whenever she was so near him. He closed his eyes, pushing back the urge. This was not the moment, he thought as he rubbed her head and shoulders. He reached down and lifted her into his full embrace. He pressed his cheek to hers and felt her tears meet him.

"What's wrong?"

At first Evelyn did not answer, possibly because she couldn't. She breathed out a long, shuddering sigh before twisting her head so that her lips were at his neck. The sensation of her breath on his skin sent chills down his body. He wanted to know what had stripped her down so quickly and brutally to reduce her to this. He did not think her weak in that moment, but rather as someone who was shouldering much too much for her gentle body to carry.

"I will help you," Michael assured. "Give me two days. I will find a way."

"What will you do?" Evelyn whispered.

"Whatever I can,"

There was another moment before he felt Evelyn's lips press against his skin on his neck. He caressed the back of her head, holding her tighter. They stood, wrapped in a neverending embrace, silently comforting until a knock came at the office door. Michael looked up and saw Priest standing in the doorway. Michael pulled away from Evelyn. Priest looked at them with an indiscernible expression behind his dark shades.

"We just got intel back about Danvers," said Priest in his baritone voice.

"What was said?" asked Evelyn. She wiped her eyes quickly and turned to look at Priest.

"He's dead."

"Why?" asked Evelyn.

"Columbian government launched an investigation. They raided several of Guiellermo's labs and arrested a bunch of men. Danvers was killed during the gun battle."

"Shit," said Evelyn. She rubbed the top of her head, her expression deeply stressed.

"Are we still going tonight?" said Priest.

"We can't. Without Danvers, we don't have a secure way in. We'll be wiped out before we even make it past the border. We'll have to wait. Tell the team to stand down for now. Keep your phones charged."

Priest nodded and left the doorway. Evelyn turned around, expression back at annoyed confusion. Michael stood quietly in place, wanting to ask what was going on, but held his tongue. Instead, he went to Evelyn and rubbed her shoulders. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, before looking up at Michael.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"A little," said Michael.

"Wanna go out to eat? I don't want to be here right now. I gotta get away for a little bit."

"Whatever you want."

Evelyn nodded in agreement before moving away from Michael. She stopped at the door and smiled at him.

"Meet me upstairs in half an hour?"

"Regular half hour or CP half hour?"

Evelyn laughed. "You're learning. Regular half hour is fine. Give or take Five minutes. I am female after all."

"I've noticed."

Evelyn smiled and left the office. Michael lingered a moment, waiting to be sure Evelyn was a good distance from him and would not double back quickly. He went to her computer and logged into her system with the password he had seen her use on multiple occasions. Once in her system, he began flipping quickly through her database files, searching for something that might be a clue to the questions he was beginning to grow weary of asking. After a moment more of searching, he came across an email sent from Evelyn to Niko. Michael clicked on the file and began reading. The file was a status report on a mission that was currently underway. Evelyn mentioned that she had acquired additional information concerning a girl named Pressly, a runaway from Portland, Oregon. Niko responded that there was no sign or evidence of a girl fitting the description for Pressly, but would continue to search. There was more discussion about recruitment efforts, which agencies were being targeted, and finally, a roster list of recruits being drafted from Section. Michael quickly wrote down the names then logged out the computer.

Michael returned to his room and logged on to his own computer. He quickly accessed his email and went into a file that was sent from Birkoff. He pulled out the list of names and began writing the names in an encrypted code inside the file to send back to Birkoff. He knew the code was rudimentary at best, but he was not concerned about how well the information was hidden, so long as Birkoff received it and translated it before its actual contents were discovered. He knew that he was asking the young Communications Officer to do a lot of work that was well past his level authorization, but he did not have much choice. Out of everyone at Section, Birkoff was the only person he trusted in Communications and Technical. Even though it seemed that Birkoff worked against him, he could understand his reasons and never held his actions against him. The kid was only looking out for himself, and no one could blame him for wanting to self preserve. He was a little leary of the kid's motives for helping him as much as he did. He often figured it was because of Nikita that Birkoff lent himself towards huge gestures of loyalty. If it were just him, he was sure Birkoff would not lift a finger.

Moments later, Michael received a video call from Birkoff's desk.

"Hey, I just received a file from you," said Birkoff. "Did you mean to send it back?"

"No. Must've been by mistake," said Michael.

"Just making sure."

"Check through it anyway," said Michael, maintaining a perfectly placid expression.

"Will do." Birkoff nodded, catching Michael's real meaning behind his words. "Oh, I meant to ask, how is training? Operations said you were feeling sick."

"I was," said Michael. "I'm fine now."

Birkoff nodded. "I'll get back in contact soon."

"Sure," said Michael.

The screen went blank. Michael closed his computer. He stood to his feet and began to get dressed for an evening out with Evelyn.

Michael held the restaurant door open for Evelyn for her to walk inside. She cut a glance at him as she passed, sweeping a hand playfully across his stomach. He reacted slightly, enjoying her continued play from earlier in the evening. She was dressed in a form fitting black cocktail dress, accented with small gems fashioned into a collar. The dress was cut with a low back and a semi-sweetheart neckline. The hemline stopped mid thigh allowing Evelyn's shapely legs to be on full display before being punctuated with a pair of Manolo Blahniks stilettos. She needed no further jewelry as her dress did it all for her. Paired with her now curly short cut, still dyed cinnamon red, and her brown eyes curved into a seductive smokey cat-eye, she was dangerous to look upon. Michael had to steady himself the first time he saw her in the living room of Arlene's house. He had not been so floored by a woman's beauty since his first sexual experience when he was a teenager. The woman, his tutor, was only a few years older than he was, but she was very well developed and already experienced. At the time, he was only fifteen years old and had only heard about such experiences from the other boys around the school yard. When it came time for him to actually do something, he was nervous and fearful of doing something to ruin the moment. The girl, he was happy to know, understood and guided him gently. For the next three months of the school year, she tortured him in both his studies and in the ways of making love. He had always been grateful for her education, even though now that he had time to think on it, her kindness should have landed her in jail. He remembered being dumbfounded then at the sight of her naked form before him. He felt the same seeing Evelyn, although fully clothed, standing in front of the door smiling and inviting him out with her. He had chosen to wear a casual blue silk t-shirt, paired with a black slacks and black loafer shoes. His hair was brushed back as always, although it was beginning to curl a little on the ends. The heat, no matter how much he tried to tame it, made his hair poof a little. If he did not use product to keep the hair in check, he would have a riot of curls all over and would look more like a wild poodle than a trained sleek assassin. He shaved and put on a nicer cologne, one that he normally reserved for missions involving much more difficult targets to lure. He knew he did not need to wear it seeing as how Evelyn was already his, but he liked the scent mostly because it made him feel even more sexual than any of the others. He was not aiming for the evening to end with a quick kiss goodnight. From the second he saw her in the office, sitting at her computer, he knew what he wanted.

"Your seats," said the host, ushering them to a small round table near the right side of the dimly lit restaurant.

Michael held out Evelyn's seat and waited for her to sit before taking his own. She looked at him with approving eyes as she smiled. Michael took her hand and kissed her fingers lightly before releasing it. The music in the restaurant played a sleepy jazz melody broken only by the occasional laughter from another table nearby. Michael fixed his napkin in his lap and poured their glasses of water from the pitcher on the table. Evelyn looked about the room, admiring the dreamy ambience. In the warm light, her eyes seemed to dance. Her smile brightened.

"In my entire time that I've been here, I have never been to this restaurant before," said Evelyn.

"Never?"

"Ever. I've passed by it a million times, but I've never come inside it."

"Why?" Michael took a sip of his water.

Evelyn shrugged. "Just never had the time, or really the interest, I guess. I mean, if you saw half the guys I normally run around with, you'd understand"

Michael furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn toyed with her glass before taking a sip.

"The guys I usually go out with don't take girls like me to places like this. I mean, I've been dying to wear this dress out somewhere that made sense for nearly a year since I bought it. I'm just amazed I can even fit in it."

"Where do they take you?"

"Burger King usually," Evleyn laughed. "Or like a family restaurant with a buffet or somewhere like Red Lobster. And that's if I get really lucky."

Michael noticed Evelyn's demeanor fall slightly as she spoke. There was a sadness in her voice that she tried to cover up with her laughter and smile, but it was there all the same. Hiding along with the rest of her emotions. He was interrupted briefly by their waitress approaching the table to take their order. Michael looked over the menu and saw that it offered mostly basic entrees. There was nothing truly exotic and consisted mainly of beef or chicken dishes. There were a few fish options, but he dared not order anything like fish while coming off a horrendous night out. He chose, instead, a safe choice of grilled chicken over a caesar salad with seasoned croutons and grated parmesan cheese. The waitress smiled when he handed her the menu back. She lingered a bit too long in his gaze and nearly ignored Evelyn as she began her order. Michael wanted to laugh a little at Evelyn's annoyed expression as she repeated her order of a 6 oz. sirloin and baked sweet potato with side house salad. The waitress hurried away, sweeping one last look at Michael, before disappearing among the tables.

"Does this happen often?" Evelyn asked.

"Does what happen often?"

"I'm sure you don't notice it," said Evelyn, still annoyed. "The women in here, they're all looking at you."

"I would think that they'd all be looking at you. The men anyway," said Michael.

"Our freakin' waitress damn near forgot I was even here,' ' Evelyn laughed.

"Why does that bother you?" Michael was interested.

"I know it shouldn't," Evelyn began. She toyed with her napkin. "Just does, I guess. I don't know why."

"It shouldn't." Michael reached for her hand and caressed her fingers. "Especially since I'm here with you. And I'm going home with you."

Evelyn smiled indulgently. "Well there is that,"

"Besides, why would you ever need to worry about another woman in here when you have them all beat, hands down? You're the loveliest rose in this room, and I am honored to be the one sitting across from you even if this place isn't a Red Lobster."

Evelyn laughed, the sound of her voice lifting over them and peppering the air. Michael relished the sound of her voice, sounding so much like...
Michael's smile faded slightly, remembering. His eyes broke from Evelyn's pleasant grin for a moment. He sighed and collected himself quickly. He shook his head and took a sip of water. When he returned to Evelyn's eyes, she was no longer smiling. Instead, she looked puzzled.

"What's wrong?" Evelyn asked.

"Nothing," Michael quickly answered. He forced up a smile and reached for her hand again. "There's nothing wrong. Everything is fine."

"Everything doesn't look fine. What's wrong?" Evelyn asked again.

"Nothing.I was just...thinking about something. It's irrelevant. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. Not right now. Not when it's just us."

Evelyn nodded, willing to drop the issue. She cupped her hand over his.

"Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here," she said.

Michael closed his eyes, feeling a deeper stab into his soul. Evelyn's words were mixing with *her* words. Her smile was beginning to mold into *her* smile. Even her laugh was beginning to sound like *her*. When he closed his eyes, he could see flashes of Nikita coming into sharp focus then fading. Her face melded with Evelyn's face so that they became the same person. Michael let go of Evelyn's hand and pinched the ridge of his nose between his eyes. He was feeling tired again, more tired than he had felt all day. He looked up and saw Evelyn looking at him with even more concern than before. He reached for his glass of water and took another long draw, nearly emptying the glass. After a moment, things began to return back to focus. He could see Evelyn nearly standing over him, unsure of what to do. Michael nodded and assured her of his well being.

"I'm sorry. I just got a little dizzy there for a second. I think I might still be hung over from last night," Michael explained.

"Could be," said Evelyn. "When they brought you in, you were pretty messed up."

"I can't even believe I did that."

"According to Romeo, you were the life of the party. Never knew you had it in you for all that."
Evelyn settled back down.

The waitress arrived with their food and a tall pitcher of sweet tea to fill their glasses. They thanked her and dismissed her quickly even though she seemed to want to stay a little longer at the table. Michael looked at his salad and considered sending it back. The chicken looked like it had been pre-grilled days ago and had only been warmed up and thrown on top of a wilted caesar salad. Even the dressing tasted like it had expired weeks ago. Michael picked around the leaves and stabbed at the salad that had not been adulterated by the sour caesar dressing.

"Is that the reason you don't go out? Because you know if you do, you will act a fool?" asked Evelyn between bites of her steak.

"No. I don't go out because it is a waste of energy and time. Time that could be spent doing more productive endeavors," Michael answered casually.

"What about enjoying life? Why does everything have to be about self improvement and work? Why can't you just go out to just go out and have fun?"

"Why is it that you equate fun with going out and drinking yourself into madness?"

"First of all," said Evelyn, pointing with her fork, "I don't drink like a sailor. That's what all you guys do. I don't need to drink to have fun. Now, I'm not saying that drinking doesn't sweeten the pot, but what I am saying is that I don't go out to drink. I go out to have fun."

"But when you go out, you drink."

"If I drink, I drink, but I know my limit. I would never get all tore up from hell up like you did last night. I can't afford to. A woman like me always gotta keep her head on a swivel."

Michael hummed a small laugh, enjoying her. He ate about his salad a few bites more before calling it quits. He was still a little hungry, but he was satisfied enough until the next time he ventured to eat.

"So, Michael, what do you do for entertainment?"

"I already told you," said Michael. "I'm not really into going out and being around a whole bunch of people. I prefer to spend my time in the company of people that I *do* want to spend time with."

"Oh, so would it be fair to say that you prefer spending your time with me?" Evelyn played with the bite of potato on the end of her fork, slowly introducing it to her parted lips.

"I haven't said no to an invitation yet."

"I like spending time with you, too."
"Good. Then we've agreed that we like spending time with each other." Michael smiled playfully.

"It's odd, though," said Evelyn. "I mean, if someone were to look at us, they would think that we don't fit together. I told you in the beginning, ``I don't normally go for guys like you, and I know you don't go for girls like me."

"What makes you say that?" Michael reached and stabbed one of Evelyn's steak pieces she had already cut up and ate it before she could object.

"Well, because, look at me. I don't think you would have ever thought you would be tied up with a chick like me, now tell the truth. I am *definitely* not your type."

Michael went for another steak piece, but was blocked by Evelyn's fork. He smiled and gave her a pleading look. Evelyn was fast won over. She pierced the steak bite and fed it to Michael's waiting mouth.

"What makes you think that I have a type?" asked Michael amid his bite.

"You have a type," said Evelyn. "All men do. I can guess your type is likely the tall, blonde, leggy type with big boobs and no brain."

Michael opened his mouth once more, begging for another bite. Evelyn obliged and gave him more of her steak. Michael shifted his seat closer to Evelyn so that they were sitting side by side, their knees touching beneath the table. Michael reached over and touched her leg at her inner thigh as he leaned in towards her to continue being fed by her.

"You are definitely wrong on that account," Michael said. "I am very much attracted to a woman with a mind of her own. I would not want someone that couldn't think for herself."

"You want a woman you can dominate." Evelyn fed Michael some of her sweet potatoe.

"Not dominate," said Michael. He slid his hand slightly upward on her thigh, meeting the hem of her skirt. "I would never want to control her."

"A woman that is powerful?"

"Yes. In her own right. She must be powerful. She must be strong willed. She must have a strength that comes from the inside, one that is not easily stamped out."

Evelyn fed Michael more of her steak. She allowed one hand to trail down towards his legs and grazed him deliberately at his groin. They pushed their seats closer together almost so that they were nearly sitting in the same chair. Michael pushed his hand up further on her thigh, tunneling beneath her skirt until his fingers pressed against the warm and slightly moist fabric of her satin panties. Evelyn's breath quickened a little as his fingers tickled teasingly at the place of her inner thigh and the swell of her vaginal lips. Evelyn continued to try and eat and feed Michael, but she was finding it hard to remain concentrated on her plate. She moved her hand away from Michael's thigh and rubbed him over his trousers, feeling him bulge up towards her. She could hear him breathing heavily, drawing in long breaths through his nostrils and expelling out. She could see his chest rising and falling as desire built higher and stronger with each stroke.

"We should probably get the check," said Evelyn.

Michael nodded, his eyes already glazing over with need. Evelyn looked to see if she could gain their waittress's attention while she refiled glasses at another table. Michael pulled back, needing to return himself to as much normal as he could manage before getting up from the table. Evelyn's hand still played with him, making it difficult to calm down. Finally, he moved her hand gently away from him. She understood quickly, and opted to take a long drink of tea. After a few more minutes, their waitress arrived. She looked a bit disappointed to know that they were already done with their meal, which had only been picked over sparingly. She gave them their bill and Evelyn slid in the credit card to use. The waitress left to run the card. Michael straightened himself before getting up from the table. He was only partially still aroused, but the cut of the pants and the dim lighting helped to disguise him. Evelyn rose from her seat just as the waitress returned with their card. They bid her goodnight, leaving a standard tip on the table, and headed back to Evelyn's apartment.

They were barely able to make it inside again, without pawing wantonly at one another. Michael felt himself losing all control around Evelyn again. He could not stop himself around her. It was as if she had become a drug that he could not stop using. The more he had her, the more he wanted, and it did not matter that he was tired, or hungry, or even sick. She was all that he wanted, and if he could just have a taste of her, she could heal whatever was ailing him at the moment. He felt like his skin was on fire whenever she touched him, and only her kisses could put him out. Her body slid over his in waves of ecstasy. Inside her world, he wrapped himself and peacefully succumbed to her seductive power. Her fingers pulled him deeper into her, molding her form to him. Her moans came to him like love songs written for only him to hear. She gave him a symphony of love and adoration as he held her within his arms, marrying himself to her over and over until she was no longer her own person, but a part of him now. Never had he held a woman so closely to him. Never except for...

Michael squeezed his eyes tight.

*Get out of my head*! Michael grimaced.

Beneath him, Evelyn moaned. He looked down into her face, and saw *her* staring back at him, her blue eyes shining like sapphires against the midnight sky. Michael looked in horror, trying to figure out what it was he was seeing. His body continued to work as it was programmed to do, but his mind was becoming disjointed. He closed his eyes again, trying to think of something else, other than Nikita. He did not want to think about Nikita. He wanted to think about Evelyn. He *needed* to think about Evelyn. She was who he was with at that moment. Not Nikita. He could never be with Nikita. He could be with any other woman in the world. Just not Nikita.

*He could not have Nikita!*

Michael screamed out, unable to contain his fury and his passion. Evelyn had long since joined him, screeching at the top of her lungs as Michael drilled himself into her. Sweat poured over his body. The muscles in his arms and legs ached. His back was on the verge of spasming. He could hear himself screaming out almost in earnest as his body began to work itself into a frenzy. He began thrusting violently into her, driving so forcefully that he could feel the bed moving along with him. Evelyn's body began to wilt a little, no longer chasing after him with her own vigor, but rather bracing itself against his constant pounding. He lay her flat and wrapped his arms about her. He pushed up his thighs and ground down deeply. He grunted roughly as he rolled himself within her, ignoring her whimpering pleas. He came into her with all of his strength, with all of his frustration, and all of his passion lunging forward and purposefully. He was not trying to be soft anymore. He wanted to rage and rip apart what she was. He wanted to destroy whatever made her what she was. He could feel that his pleasure was beginning to cause her great agony. For some reason, he no longer cared. She needed to be punished for wanting to be with him. He needed to punish her for who she was not, nor could not ever be. He gripped her thigh tightly, pressing his fingers deep into her flesh as he hammered himself relentlessly inside her. His fingers slipped against her soaking wet skin making him need to grip her with more force. He dug in more, knowing he was bruising her by now as he grasped her to him. She was pulling away from him, trying to get him to slow down, but he could not stop himself. His mind had long since left him there on the bed, moving with such vigorous friction that the headboard began to scrape away paint from where it continuously slammed against the wall. Finally, either from sheer exhaustion, or from mercy, the terrible eruption began to ebb forward, pressing hard against the base of his spine. The sensation wrapped around his waist like a loin cloth, then dragged down into his scrotum. His thighs tensed and quickened his thrusting, edging the eruption forward. Evelyn was a rag doll beneath him, no longer hanging on, no longer pushing him forward. Her voice wheezed out of her in rasps. She no longer made sounds of ecstasy, but rather sounds like she was being murdered by his constant impaling. He pressed her down into the destroyed bed and pushed out his last. Finally, the eruption came seemingly up from his toes and raced through him like a tidal wave. He let out a roar that frightened even him. His body convulsed and shook, stiffening to the point of constriction before releasing him in a grand exhale. He collapsed hard onto Evelyn, headless of the fact that she might not be able to handle his full weight on her. He moved himself off of her and lay on his back, still gasping. He was seeing stars for a moment. He blinked hard, trying to steady himself. He continued to tremble with shocks of electricity traveling throughout his entire body. Beside him, Evelyn gasped as well. She put a hand on her forehead, her expression stuck in disbelief.

"Oh my god!" She repeated almost endlessly between breaths.

"I'm sorry," Michael breathed out.

He had no idea what had come over him, or what had made him behave so monstrously towards Evelyn. He had not seen her at all, only felt her body beneath him and the feeling of himself deep within her. She was not a person to him, just a body among other countless bodies he had been sent to pleasure, only it wasn't pleasure that he was seeking to bring. His mind had long since abandoned him and left only the parts of him that Section had created. Those parts he knew were mechanical and torturous, used only for primary objectives and mission orders. There was no feeling in those parts, only mechanics. The human side of him was stripped away leaving the metallic endoskeleton of Section's perfect robo-man. Their own personal sexual Terminator programed to seek, to kill, and to destroy its target no matter what. He would be perfect if not for the occasional malfunction of accessing the anomaly that fashioned itself into what he could only describe as his heart. Should he somehow find a way to delete the virus that Nikita had become to him, he could return himself to his normal designed function. He could enjoy lying in the middle of sweat soaked sheets next to a beautiful woman, instead of wondering why he had done what he had done to her in the name of what he knew he couldn't have. He could kiss the lips of a lovely soul without wishing they were someone else's.

Michael closed his eyes. If sleep came, he knew that he would not enjoy that either. Sleep never came to him quietly or with solace in mind. It always came to him with malice lurking behind its closed hand, ready to reach for him and drag him beneath its depths. He felt Evelyn's kisses on his neck and chest, but he could not savor them anymore. All of her had been corrupted by him now, and there was no redeeming her. She had become part of him, and therefore, could no longer be loved in the same way. He could always desire her, always want her, but she was not what he needed ultimately. He needed a soul, and now that he had stolen hers from her and devoured it completely, she no longer had one to offer him. She, like so many others, was joined inescapable to him and he was now forced to carry her around with him and add her to the collection of countless other shattered hearts.

"I'm sorry," Michael repeated, more for himself, than for Evelyn.

"It's okay," she responded breathily before getting up from the bed.

Without any more words, Evelyn disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, he heard her shower cut on. Michael lay across the bed staring at the ceiling. He felt like he was spiraling out of control. He was in the middle of a freefall with nothing to hang on to and no end to his fall to anticipate. He could only hope that once he stopped, he would at least leave a handsome corpse.

"Michael? Are you there?...Michael?"

"The more I know you, the less I like you, Michael..."

"Don't let Section kill our baby, Michael..."

"MICHAEL! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH ADAM!...OH MY GOD! HE'S DEAD! OUR BABY IS DEAD!"

"We need secondary support, Michael! We're pinned down! Help us! Please!...Michael?"

"Why shouldn't I just kill you? Hmmm? Why shouldn't I just pull the trigger?"
"I will die for a belief. You will die because you have none!"

"This was all one big manipulation to keep me from going with him, wasn't it?"

"Did you ever love me, Michael?"

"Michael wants the name of our first child to be called Adam, so that's going to be his name, once he is born."

"We're all ghosts here..."

"I love you, Michael..."

"You couldn't handle it, could you? You got jealous of Gray because I love him and not you."

"I'll do anything for you, Michael."

"Don't leave me, Michael! Please!"

"Michael doesn't love anyone, not even himself."

"I love you, daddy."

"He has your smile...and your nose!"

"I don't know what love is anymore...but the only part of me that's not dead is you."

"I hate you.."

"How could you lie to me like this?"

"Is there anything about you that's real anymore?"

"I could never be what you are. I could never destroy someone so thoroughly like you do."

"Is that you, Michael?"

"What have you done, Michael?"

"Who are you, Michael?"

"Michael?...Michael?...Michael?"

"MICHAEL!"

Michael shot up from the bed screaming. His heart beat hard against his breastbone, threatening to burst out completely. He clutched his chest hoping to keep his heart inside, and grateful that it was still beating thunderously. Beside him, Evelyn sat looking more than worried. She rubbed his back in comforting strokes, but at the moment, Michael could not feel her touch. His mind continued to reel from the images that flashed in front of him. His body felt clammy and tingled with the feeling of bugs crawling over him. He shivered a little, trying to rid himself of the awful sensation.

"Are you okay?" Evelyn asked, still rubbing his back.

Michael made a move to shrug off Evelyn's touch. Evelyn pulled her hand back. She gave Michael a look that clearly read she was not exactly happy about his gesture. She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward a little so that she could see Michael's face, unimpeded by his wild hair dangling in his eyes. Michael's eyes continued to search about as if looking for at least one of the apparitions he saw in his dream to materialize in the room. Finally, he turned his gaze towards Evelyn.

"I'm fine," he said in a hushed tone.

"What the hell, Michael? I know you sometimes have bad dreams, or whatever, but this was something else entirely. What the hell happened?"

Michael shook his head. He pushed back his hair from his face and sniffed loudly. The whole ordeal had nearly led him into tears, but he had not stayed asleep long enough for that to happen. Normally, when he was at home in bed and the dreams came, the horror did not stop, but continued until he was awakened by his own mournful sobs. The last fleeting memories of his dream drifted away into the late evening moonlight showing through Evelyn's opened window. He remembered falling asleep while Evelyn was in the shower and had not felt her curl up beside him. He imagined she was awakened by his violent thrashing about as he was want to do during such episodes. Michael never promised he was an easy sleeper. He was either as still as the dead, or a worldwind of movement while he battled within his dreams.

"It was just a bad dream. I'm fine."

"Do you remember anything about it? Might help to talk about it with someone."

"It's fine. Really. Nothing needs to be discussed."

"But, Michael-"

"I said I'm fine." Michael snapped.

Evelyn pulled back, her arms crossing over her chest. She wore a faded Nike jersey over her panties and nothing else. She pursed her lips together as anger rimmed about her narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me? I know you didn't just snap at me like that. I just asked you a question. I was trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," Michael retorted.

"Well you need *somebody's* help. All that going on in your sleep, you obviously need to talk to somebody about all that. That shit don't sound healthy."

Evelyn got out of bed and began searching for a pair of pants in her dresser.

"What are you talking about?" asked Michael, looking warily at Evelyn as she searched through clothes for something to put on.

"You know, you talk a hell of a lot in your sleep. Did you know that?" Evelyn righted herself and put a fist on her hip. "A hell of a lot."

"Well, I'm sorry if I said something to offend you," said Michael with a slight edge to his tone. He tossed the sheets aside from him and stood to his feet.

"Who is Nikita?"

Evelyn found Michael's boxers and threw them at him.

"A colleague," answered Michael, catching his underwear. He began putting them on.

Evelyn found a pair of pants and began shoving them on. Her expression did not hide her building anger.

"A colleague? It didn't sound like she was just some colleague."

"Really? What did it sound like?" Michael found his pants and began putting them on.

"Sounded like she was a bit more than a colleague," said Evelyn.

"Does it matter if she was?" Michael challenged.

Evelyn found Michael's shirt. She tossed it to him with much the same speed as she did the underwear.

"It matters if you're still dreaming about her."

"Why do you care?" Michael began putting on his shirt.

"I don't," said Evelyn curtly. "But since you brought her up, I wanna know who exactly is she to you."

"I told you," said Michael evenly. "She is a colleague."

"She must mean something to you," Evelyn pressed. "You were moaning her name like you were sex-ing her or something. Was she who you were fucking tonight? Because you sure wasn't making love to me, Michael. That wasn't love."

"What was it then?"

"Fucking."

"So it was fucking. What's the difference?"

"You don't *fuck* somebody you love, Michael. Hasn't anyone taught you that before? You make love with someone you love. You don't fuck them. You used to make love with me, Michael. That shit we just did? You just fucked me, and I ain't here for that." Evelyn looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she kept her composure.

Michael took a step forward and leveled his gaze with Evelyn.

"You're right," Michael said calmly. "I did just fuck you."

"You don't fuck someone you love, Michael," Evelyn repeated.

"You're right. You don't," said Michael. He took another step closer. "But I never said I loved you, either."

Evelyn's eyes flashed hot anger. Her bottom lip trembled in preparation to speak, but her words caught in her throat and made her choke a little. Michael took another step closer to her so that they were now only a step away from each other. He could tell she was dealing with a tsunami of emotions, all tumbling headlessly over top each other. She stood motionless, unable to verbalize or move any part of her as the realization of Michael's words crashed over her. She stared at him, her eyes reading more hurt than anger.

"You're right," she said, her tone edging towards tears, but not quite breaking. "You never did say you loved me. I just assumed you did. That was my fault. I should have listened with my head and not my heart with you. It was just too easy to fall for you."

"You never fell for me, Evelyn. You only did because you wanted something that wasn't here. I'm only standing in place of someone else."

"How would you know that? I don't have anybody that I want here."

Michael stepped closer. "I know because I was doing the same thing with you. The only problem is, I can admit that I used you to blind me to what I didn't want to see. You still can't do the same because you still think that I'm what you want when we both know that isn't true."

Evelyn stared at Michael for a moment. She took a step back from him. Tears began to well up inside her eyes. She turned her head so that he would not see them fall against her cheek. Michael closed the gap between them and turned her face towards his. Gently, he smoothed away the tears on her face and caressed her cheek.

"Whoever it is that has your heart should count themselves lucky. They have a beautiful jewel waiting for them whenever they finally do come around."

Evelyn shook her head. "How could you know any of this? I never told you."

"You didn't have to," said Michael softly. "I could see it in your eyes. Whenever you looked at me. I could tell you wanted me, but you also wanted me to be someone else. It's okay. I understand. I never expected there to be an us. We just happened to find each other at the right time."

Evelyn reached for Michael and embraced him. He wrapped his own arms about her, holding her close to him so that she shared his heartbeat. For a long moment, they stood, holding one another as if holding the ones they truly desired. Michael closed his eyes. There had been so many times in his other missions where he wanted to admit this very thing, but knew that if he did, he would not only blow his cover, but ruin the mission completely. He hated lying to them, but he also realized he was quite good at keeping up the subterfuge. He could spew out a lie so convincing that even with evidence to the contrary staring back at him to his face, he could still manage to be authentic in his conviction. Standing with Evelyn, telling her the most honest of his admissions, he felt liberated. He could honestly say that he did, in fact, love Evelyn. Just not in the same way that he loved Nikita or Simone. He could love Evelyn in all that she was and stood for, still find her insanely attractive, and even lust deeply for her touch, but he knew beyond that, there was nothing else he could gain. He trusted her that she would be loyal to him, but as far as her ever being the one to come and save him, he could not know if she would. He would most likely always be the one to save her, always be the one to come to her rescue. She could not, of course, be like Nikita and move heaven and earth to make certain of his safety. These were qualities he knew no other woman in the world possessed other than Nikita. She was the one that could save him whenever he needed saving. She always did.

Evelyn began to let go and slowly pull away from Michael. Tears continued to stream down her face as she moved over to the bed. She sat down, her face now full of sadness and a pain that Michael knew all too well. He sat down beside her and reached for her hand. He said nothing, allowing the silence between them to have a discussion.

"I feel like I'm breaking up with you," Evelyn finally said.

"Maybe not breaking up...Just realizing the truth."

"I really was falling for you, Michael."

"And I was falling for you as well, but..."

"But...There *is* someone else," Evelyn finished.

"Yes."

Evelyn nodded. "Does she know?"

Michael thought a moment, wondering the same question. He looked down, concluding.

"No."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Michael frowned. "I haven't decided yet. I'm not exactly sure how."

"You should tell her. If you love her, truly, you should let her know before it's too late."

Michael hated the sharp stab of pain that always went to the back of his heart where he was not yet healed from the last time he suffered a great pain with Nikita. It was their last meeting in the halls at Section, when he tried to tell her that they needed to be careful, to not show the true nature of their relationship, but she did not understand him. She was not listening. The only thing that she heard was that he was reluctant to advance their relationship past a few flirty glances in passing. He was rejecting her full force love in favor of a junior highschool crush. She had walked away from him, eyes set ablaze with renewed anger, and a new direction in her quest to be loved by someone.

"It may already be too late for that," said Michael.

"I sincerely hope not," said Evelyn. She looked tenderly at Michael. "For you sake. I hope she does come around and discovers what rare gem she has. There isn't a man like you on this planet, Michael. I hope you know that."
to Michael allowed a small grin in response. He continued to stroke her hand with his thumb, thinking of their moments together. The week was already done and there were only a few more days left in his training time. As far as he could gather, he had done more casual interacting with other operatives than he did learning any new field maneuver techniques or tactical planning. He was beginning to wonder why he was even there at all, if not to get to know the lovely flower sitting next to him on the now destroyed bed. He reached up and pulled her chin towards him with his finger. Slowly, he drew her into the softest kiss he could deliver her, barely grazing the quiet plump of her lips. He held her as close to him as he could manage without actually touching her lips, allowing just the nearness of them to seduce. She pushed forward, attempting to close the distance, but found Michael's steady hands on her shoulders barring her from doing this. Instead, she was at an arrest, inches from the very thing she now desired.

"This is how I feel all the time," Michael explained, his tone low and hushed. "This is how I will always feel. I can only get but so close to what I want, but I can never have it. At least not for long."

"You must enjoy torture then," said Evelyn, slightly smiling as she tried to remain a breath from Michael's lips.

"I can't tell the difference between happiness and sorrow anymore. I've learned to live with them both and accept them however they come. You bring me so much pleasure, but I know I cannot truly have you without the other. And so I will always be this way with you. Wanting you, but not having you. It is the way I've had to be with everyone."

"Please, Michael. Just kiss me for God's sake. I can't take this any longer."

Michael smiled. He moved forward, slightly, meeting his lips to hers. She rushed forward, throwing her arms about his neck and holding him to her within a deep kiss. Moments later, he was back within her world, drowning in the euphoria of her touch. The night pulled them along lazily. Michael wondered why he even bothered putting on clothes in the first place. Anytime he was with her, he never seemed to be able to keep them on for long.