**Michael turned back and walked towards the bed where Evelyn lay, still sleeping soundly. It could be so simple. He could give in and take what he could get for as long as he could have it. Afterall, what was life without a little fun?**

HADAL ZONE 2: DEEPER DIVE

by NFarmer

They were piled in a black GMC Suburban with tinted windows and blacked out wheels and reinforced doors to make them bullet proof. The four of them rode in silence, busying themselves with loading their weapons. Romeo sat in the driver's seat, dressed in all black with his usual purple shades on. Santino sat on the passenger side, also in all black, with his long black hair buried under a Raiders ball cap. He chambered a clip in his Tec-9. Just behind him, Tarek loaded two automatic Sig Sauers. He looked out the window, scanning for their target.

Michael loaded his own SSG 69 rifle. He fixed the scope, noting to adjust it once he reached his position mark atop a tall building across the street from where his target would be standing. About a block off, Michael pulled his dark brown hair up into a ponytail. He was dressed in his usual field gear, an all black ensemble consisting of a black t-shirt, black leather jacket, fingerless gloves, slim fit black pants and black lace up boots fit for scaling difficult facades. He ignored the jeers he got when they first got into the SUV. While the others took to wearing simple black jeans and t-shirts, they questioned Michael when they first saw him.

"What the hell you got on? Are those leggings?" Tarek laughed.

Michael did not bother to explain his field gear as he was sure the concept would go right over their heads. Considering what he often had to do during missions, he knew the value in cutting down as much material as necessary to be more mobile and versatile in movement.

"They look like leggings," said Santino, joining in.

Michael continued to prepare himself for the hit they were commissioned to do that afternoon. He double checked his ammunition, making sure he had enough to use just in case he managed to miss his target and had to strafe the area. He was pretty sure it would be an easy hit as he never missed a kill shot, especially one that he had time to set up. He could easily take care of the entire group of men if necessary, but that was not the mission objective. The idea was to take out Slim and possibly wound a few of his friends so that someone would survive to spread the rumor of the Lords of Laredo beginning a turf war. With a turf war sparked, many of Guillermo's men would be distracted towards controlling the issue and not worry so much about protecting the labs. It was a precarious plan, but Michael saw it's worth and understood the end even with the heavy body count it was sure to produce.

"Well go on then and show'em what you working with," Tarek laughed as they walked out towards the SUV. "You look real good in them Apple Bottoms!"

Romeo walked up next to him and looked him up and down as Michael put on a armor vest before putting on his jacket and zipping it up.

"We just going to do a drive by, not take down Fort Knox," said Romeo.

Michael pulled his utility belt on and tied it tight about his waist. He did not waste words with Romeo, trying to keep himself focused on what he was about to go and do. He was not particularly excited about going out to shoot a seemingly innocent person, but he also knew that Box Boy's brother, Slim, was helping with Guillermo's operations which made him not so innocent. It wasn't like he had not shot in cold blood before. Section ordered him to kill so many people so much that the feeling of bringing death no longer bothered him, at least, not totally. He was a government sanctioned killer. It was what he did. It no longer mattered if the target was young or old, black or white, rich, poor, man or woman. If Section wanted them dead, and they sent Michael in to kill them, then they were most certainly dead. Case closed. He could not afford to feel anything towards the act. If he did, then he would lose himself with every bullet he fired off, knowing that it's end would bring about someone else's. He would not be able to be what he was and always would be.

The man in black.

As they made their approach to their target, the men pulled up their bandanas with the colors of a rival gang on them. They were disguised as the Lords of Laredo wearing their colors of Red and yellow. Michael jumped out the side door and quickly ran his click up the sidewalk and around towards the back of a building where he could climb the fire escape up. It did not take long for him to scale the building and reach the rooftop. He scanned to find the perfect spot to set up and located an area on the northwest corner. He fixed his scope again, adjusting its lens so that he could get the right range and ducked down low. From where he was, he could see the corner where a group of men were standing, huddled together talking. They were drinking beer and smoking as they carried on general conversation. Cars drove by them and they waved in recognition. If a car drove past them with women inside, they cat called and made lewd comments with no real purpose other than to harass them.

The SUV paused at the stop sign just before coming to the corner. Michael readied himself to take out Slim once the hit began. He unclicked the safety from the rifle and focused his sights on the guy named Slim. He was a tall, thin guy, much like his brother, wearing a ball cap and an oversized blue velour sweatsuit despite the heat. He was smoking a blunt and passing it over to a friend when the SUV began its approach. Michael licked his lips and steadied his breathing. He focused his shot and pulled the trigger.

Michael got out of the SUV as the rest of the team gathered their arsenal to head into the garage. They shed their bandanas and threw them into a drum. Santino sprayed lighter fluid into the drum and set it aflame. Romeo pulled the SUV into the bay of the garage onto the lift. Within minutes, the truck was raised and the team began stripping it down to the chassey. Michael made his way back through the garage, heading for the tunnels. Romeo followed after him.

"Yo, we got an off night tonight. Next mission doesn't go live until tomorrow night," said Romeo.

"Yeah. So," said Michael as he loaded his equipment onto the golf cart to drive back to the bunker.

"Well, how about you come out with me and the fellas?"

"I told you, Romeo. I don't go out."

"Oh c'mon, man! You can't be all business all the time. Come out with us. It'll be fun. Besides, you should meet some of the other guys on the team. I think you would like them."

Michael gave Romeo a look that stated without saying that he highly doubted he would like anyone new that he had in mind to introduce him to. He secured his equipment and got in the cart. Romeo held on to the cart for a moment, stopping Michael from driving off. Michael sighed heavily, somewhat annoyed. He simply wanted to get back to his room and lie down while everyone else was out doing various activities. He had not had much sleep in the past few days except for the couple of times he dozed off uncontrollably.

"What do you want?" Michael did not hide his annoyance.

"For you to come out with us," said Romeo. "Look, man. I know I've been a pain, and I'm sure you want to kill me again, but I think you're really cool and I think you're gonna like these guys. They are a lot like you, you know. I think you will enjoy hanging with us. The Uptown Posse." Romeo gave a broad smile.

Michael returned an expression that went between a sneer and a smile. He started the cart.

"So you coming or no?"

"I'll think about it," said Michael over his shoulder as he drove away.

"Well, don't take too long! We are leaving tonight around ten."

After a quick and fitful nap, Michael attempted to get some more work done. He had changed out of his field gear and into a pair of grey sweats and white tank top. He reviewed more files sent to him by Operations and tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept trailing back to the night before. He closed his eyes and could see Evelyn's body moving around, sexy and slick from the heat she was producing. She was the hottest body in the club and everyone knew it by the way she gained all of their attention, including his. Her dance had made him think about her in ways he had not considered her, at least not so vividly. When he finally got his hands on her, it was all he could do not to tear her apart. He wanted her terribly, ached to feel her, hungered to taste her, throbbed to be within her. She had captured him in a way that made him want to beg for her again and again. He would have gladly stayed under her in her bed all day if not for the fact that they had a man to interrogate in the flower shoppe. He enjoyed being lost a while within the beauty of her jazz filled universe, smelling vanilla and tasting the smooth caramel of her skin. She had brought him to ecstasy fast with only the brush of her finger. The sound of his name on her lips pushed him towards euphoric delirium. The warmth of her nearly drove him to tears as he lay within her beautiful sanctum. She was all but perfect, and would be perfect if he could only discard one nagging little thorn that kept stabbing at his heart. If he could only get rid of thoughts of *her*, he might finally have a shot at being truly happy again.

But he couldn't get rid of thoughts of her. She was always there, lingering just out of sight from him. Always just beyond his reach. He had grasped her a few times, pulling her close enough to him that he dared to crush her. Yet each and every time, she managed to escape him, to fly away. And each time she flew, she took away pieces of him. Madeline and Operations both had warned him about getting too close to his material. They told him the dangers of what could happen when a mentor began to form bonds that would eventually have to be broken as the relationship deteriorated. All before, he had been able to train other operatives, even convince them of his care when he truly did not care for them, in order to get them to perform. He had used his charm and mystery to challenge their beliefs in what they could do and encouraged their progress with the promise of establishing a more intimate relationship. By the time they figured out that it was all a lie, they were no longer his material and were moved on to other missions, leaving him to repeat the same techniques on a brand new recruit. By the time Nikita came along, he had the training mechanics down to a science. He knew exactly how to control her and she played right into his ploys up until Simone and Glass Curtain happened.

Nikita had caught him off guard and had seen him unbalanced for the first time. She saw the broken part of him and did not run away in terror. She had helped him find Simone, had left him to whatever he had decided to do concerning her, then nursed his torn soul back to health after she died. She had been the only person in the world that bothered to understand his pain even though she had no idea just how damaged he actually was. If she knew him, truly knew him and all the scars that were left on his heart from years of Section abuse, he could honestly say she would likely stay. She would not move away from his touch, or avert her eyes from him. She would look at the monster he had become and love him back to humanity.

That was the difference that was Nikita he found lacking in any other person he attempted to deceive. It was her ability to see in him a soul that could still be redeemed, still be understood, and still be loved when everyone else said that it couldn't be done. He knew that everyone else at Section thought of him as a heartless dead thing, a Section puppet that could be programmed and directed towards even the most heinous of deeds without ever feeling anything one way or another about it. If they knew the truth, they might consider him weak, vulnerable, and maybe even fragile. He was, after all, a recluse, painfully shy, and a bit of a nerd when it came to his interests. He wasn't good at tactical because he was interested in military maneuvers. There was a science to the planning that attracted him. Figuring out puzzles and seeing possibilities where others could not interested him the most. He liked computers because they made sense to him and appealed to his already overly logical point of view. He liked statistics, mathematics, and logistics. The only reason he was any good at manipulating people was because he preferred listening to people rather than talking. Communication for him had less to do with words than it did with movement and how the body told what the words often lied. It was the reason why he was always so careful with his movements, never wasting a single motion towards the inane. It was how he knew that Evelyn desired him long before she performed her sexy dance. It was the way she touched him, how she drew far closer to him than she did anyone else whenever she passed him, and how her eyes stayed with him even when her attention was being called elsewhere. He knew that Nikita had felt something for him in the way she also stayed longer in his presence, how she always peeked into his office to ask him if he needed anything, and how she always seemed to be just a breath behind him on missions.

She was always by his side, unwavering in her loyalty to him even when he was deliberate with his cruelty. He had done all that he could to push her away and make her disconnect, but she continued to hang on to the idea of him. It seemed nothing would make her dislodge from him, nothing until Jurgen. He felt after their last mission, he had finally done what Madeline and Operations were trying to get him to do all along. He had broken his connection with Nikita, but not because of anything he was trying to do intentionally. In his desperation to keep her close to him, he destroyed the very thing he was trying to preserve. As much as he knew it was best for them all, it still killed him inside to watch her walk away from him.

Michael checked his watch. It was nearly 3pm and he still had not eaten much since that morning. Preparing for the Slim hit disguised as a rival gang had eaten up much of the day leaving little room to consider food. The adrenalin pumping in him that morning caused all thought of eating to be muted. It was only after the hit, when the rest of the team circled back around the block to pick him up and speed off, that he began thinking about food. Yet, as what always happened whenever he had to kill without much more provocation than a simple order, he punished himself by not eating when his body called for it. He, instead, put himself to work, torturing himself with Section business instead of enjoying the rest of the day like the others. He imagined they did not have to worry about summaries and field reports, profiles or recruit questions. They did not have to worry about tactical plans or upcoming missions in far off countries. They only had to worry about what was for dinner that evening and what they would be doing later on that night.

For the moment, Michael figured the only thing he would be doing is burying himself in a book until he either passed out or became bored enough to stop reading. Back home, he could at least entertain himself by driving around the city on his motorcycle, but even then he always somehow ended up somewhere near where Nikita stayed. Sometimes he would get up the nerve to go to her door with a flimsy excuse to see her. Sometimes he had no excuse at all, and just stood there looking at the numbers on the door. Other times, he never even made it inside. He simply stood outside thinking of why he was even there in the first place.

He had to stop thinking about her. There was no use in it. She certainly had not been thinking about him. If she had, she would have found a way to contact him. She would have sent a message. She would have said something in her emails to let him know that she was thinking of him in any other way other than as a source of information. Michael stood and stretched himself. He thought to go upstairs and check out what was in the kitchen, but he knew Arlene was likely there cooking. She never liked anyone in the kitchen while she was cooking and would likely kick him out in the same manner as she always did. He thought about what was in the lounge, but from the last time he checked, there was barely any bread to make a sandwich, let alone anything to put on the bread. The recruits had nearly wiped out the contents of the cupboards and the refrigerator. He figured his only course was to go out and find some place to grab a bite to eat. Normally, this would not be an issue, but since he wasn't at home, and he had no access to any of the vehicles, his radius of where he could go to eat was limited by how far he could walk in 90 degree heat. The idea was not exactly comforting, but he had little choice, plus it might do him well to simply walk about the substation to figure out exactly where he was within it. He knew the flower shoppe was in a strip mall where there were other businesses, one of which he recalled was a local burger joint. Michael pulled on a pair of sneakers and started towards the tunnels.

"Where are you headed?"

Michael stopped. He smiled to himself, happy to hear Evelyn's voice just behind him. He turned to see her standing with her hands on her hips. She was in her usual outfit, fatigues and a bra top, looking like a real life G.I Jane. He walked up to her, his expression pleasant.

"Not sure. Guess I'll know when I get there," Michael answered. "You?"

"About to head back to my apartment for a little bit. Might grab some food along the way." Evelyn took a step closer to him, positioning her arms behind her back.

"Want some company?" Michael moved in closer so that he was nearly standing over top her looking down into her brown eyes.

She looked up, meeting his stare and smiled.

It did not take them long to hurry to Evelyn's apartment. Before they could make it inside the door, they were on top of one another, clawing at each other's clothes. They left a trail of discarded articles from the front door into the bedroom where they fell entangled onto the bed. All thoughts of food were momentarily paused as the two of them rolled, finding sustenance in each other's kisses, and nourishment in the feeling of their bodies reuniting again. Once more, he felt himself sinking deeper into oblivion with little hope of ever climbing back out. The sensation of her against him was too much to resist. He knew the more that he continued to taste her, the more he was going to want. He was quickly becoming addicted to her kisses, obsessed with her smile, infatuated with the way she touched him, and enamored with the way she called out his name. He loved the way she took him slowly, pulling deeply at him until he could no longer contain himself. He was lost within her, and he never wanted to be found. He could be lost within her forever, and he would not ever ask to be freed. He would never be taken to screaming abandon, but she worked him close to it, drawing him out so much so that he gasped and grunted loudly enough so that anyone standing outside would likely know what was going on and possibly blush at the thought. Her own screams were just as loud and energetic. She gave no mind to mute herself in anyway, but instead let loose a chorus that he found curiously encouraging. She made him want to give more and with every bend of his body towards her, every drip of sweat that ran down his back, and every muscle flexing, he released himself to her in ways even he had not known he could.

He awoke two hours later with his stomach screaming for food. He was ravenous now and would gladly eat anything hot or cold. He rose up to his elbows and sniffed the air. The scent of cooking food pulled him naked out of bed, not caring enough to pull on something to cover himself. He opened the bedroom door and heard music playing softly and a voice not belonging to the stereo singing sweetly along with the track. There was a sizzling sound and the smell of bacon lingered heavily. HIs stomach growled loudly, reminding him of why he woke up so abruptly. He left the bedroom door open as he went to retrieve his boxer briefs from somewhere on the floor. In the kitchen, he heard Evelyn singing, her tone bluesy and smooth as she sang an Etta James song. Her voice carried over the music lightly, an octave higher than the singer's. He pulled on his pants and walked down the short hall towards the kitchen. He stayed just out of sight, listening to Evelyn sing, headless of his presence near her. He peeked around the corner of the wall, watching as she cooked a meal, at times using the spoon she was stirring with as a microphone. She was wearing his tank top and swaying with the slow tempo of the song. He could not help but think of her as exquisite as she danced. He wanted nothing more than to touch her again.

Pulled himself off the wall and stepped into the kitchen. Evelyn turned and saw him there, but did not stop singing or dancing. The song on the radio played with Evelyn singing the words to "The Man I Love", her eyes steady with Michael. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist, and swaying with her. He danced with her, taken in by the way she looked at him with eyes that spoke of her desire, and her voice floating over him like a gentle wave. There was a moment of no words, just the sultry sounds of the saxophone solo. She lay her head on his chest and continued singing, sometimes skipping over the lyrics. At the end, he spun her out allowing her to return to her cooking. He sat at the table and watched her as she finished up the meal. The music continued, speaking of love and lost love, of need and desire for a loved one. Evelyn prepared their plates, a selection of baked sweet potatoes topped with bacon, brown sugar, and butter, sauteed brussel sprouts, steak strips with an onion and garlic roux. She sat down the plates then speared a steak strip with a fork. She straddled Michael and held the strip up to his open mouth. The feeling of her slightly grinding against him and the taste of the tender and flavorful beef was more than delicious. She fed him another bite and sucked on his neck as he chewed. His body reacted again, demanding he satisfy at least one of his urges, but it was hard to choose which one he desired more. If he could, he would devour them both, but instead, he opted to eat first seeing as how it maintained its position at the forefront of his thoughts.

Evelyn climbed off of him and sat down in her own chair to eat. She got up briefly to grab a pitcher of his favorite, red Kool-Aid, and filled their glasses full. They said nothing as they looked intensely at one another, listening to the slow drawl of Etta's classic somber tone, and knowing that they would soon return to the bedroom. He felt like a magnet to her, reaching out to her with greedy fingers that wanted to touch her. She drew closer towards him, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers together. They fed each other, laughing at the small mix ups that inevitably happened, and kissing between bites. Before long, she was back on his lap again, unable to keep herself apart from him. His desire grew stronger as they mixed eating and touching so that they became one in the same. He finished his plate, but gave little time to digest before he carried her back to the bed.

Another hour passed. They lay in bed a while, naked and bathed in sweat having worked off thoroughly the savory food. Michael felt dizzy with pleasure, unwilling to move even a finger from where he lay with Evelyn. He felt blissful, like the way he did on his wedding night with Simone, only he knew the next day he would not have to leave, at least, not for a few more days. He could have this moment, but only for a few days before Section came calling him back. The sun was hanging lazy in the sky, having done its worst for the day. By this time, at Section, he would have already called several missions, and would likely be sent out on one to lead as well. There always seemed to be something to do at Section. There was hardly any down time to simply lie about, not like there was here. Section hardly gave much down time making it so that whenever time was available, it was snatched quickly for fear the offer might dissolve before anyone could make it out the door.

Evelyn stirred slightly turning into him and curling her fingers around his hair. He kissed her gently on her forehead then her cheek. He looked out the window again, his thoughts crawling back to memories he now wanted to forget. He wondered if he could ever return there knowing what life could be if he stayed. Here, he could live a quiet life, one that did not always place him in immediate danger at every waking hour. He could enjoy music and food, smile and laugh with no regrets. He could fall in love with someone that wanted his love and did not question it because she knew, even with the secrets, that he meant it. Even though she might sometimes balk at his methods, Evelyn seemed to understand them regardless of her own feelings. Even though she might have been a little cruel and ruthless, she made the ends justify the actions taken and never veered from her primary objective. She was not moved by sympathy when it came to getting things done. She did not change course once a decision had been made. She did not argue about details. She followed the set plan and still managed to leave the day with a smile rather than a head full of questions. She was Simone again, only re-packaged. He could love her the same as he had Simone. He could believe with her the same ideals that Simone had. He could fight with her the same as he had when Simone was with him.

Yet, she was not Simone.

No matter how much he wanted her to be, she would never be her. She would only be Evelyn, a woman he still did not know much more about other than the few details he gained from being around her. As much as he wanted to settle himself with her, he knew that the woman lying naked in his arms was still very much a stranger.

Michael eased himself carefully out of bed. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He looked into the mirror and studied himself. Just behind him, he could see the reflection of Evelyn lying beneath a crumple of white sheets. Her lovely frame could still be seen even among the blankets. He returned his gaze back to himself. He realized at that moment that he had no idea who he was anymore, or who he wanted to be. Section had given him his identity, made him the man in black. He was comfortable with being just that. He did not have to think about his next steps, they were directed for him. He did not have to fuss about with emotions when he clearly was told not to have them. He did not have to decide his own course when a mission profile told him all that he needed to know. If not for Nikita always trying to get him to access his innermost feelings, he could live without ever feeling anything. He could be just as dead as his personnel file said he was. Looking into the mirror now, he felt only half alive, dangling somewhere between earth and hell.

If he stayed there, he might live, but for how long? He knew he would never be able to get used to some of the behaviors that seemed common among this new group of family. Their unstructured approach towards objectives grated hard against his more sensible habits. Their music wore thin on his nerves and he could never tolerate the closeness of them to him. He felt practically claustrophobic whenever he was in the house and there were one to many people bumping into him. Maybe they were comfortable with the constant interaction, but he was not, nor would he ever truly be. Yet, this was the world he was accepting if he decided to keep it...To keep her. The affection she had shown him was more about what was common among them all as opposed to being reserved for just him. She did direct most of her actions to him with deliberate intention, but for the most part, she reacted to him the same as she would any other person put in her care. Maybe he only wanted to believe she wanted him. Maybe all there was between them was their desire to feed the monster that had been growing within them the carnal pleasure of their bodies uniting.

He looked back at Evelyn. He had been careless and reckless. Anyone viewing him now would go as far as saying he was out of control. And maybe they'd be right. What would it matter now? Maybe what he needed was to be a little careless, and wreckless, irresponsible, and dangerous. Maybe he needed to laugh with full abandon and scream his rage. He had stopped himself from saying and doing and being so much that he had stopped life itself. He had become dead on the inside. When he had loved, he loved completely until it was ripped away from him. There was no apology, at least none that he would hear. Section had claimed everything that was his and that was him and transformed it into a nightmare he could never wake from. It was only in a place far away from Section did he find himself awake once more. He felt he had finally opened his eyes and could see now what Nikita and Simone were trying to get him to see all this while. It took losing them both for him to understand. Words he had spoken to Nikita came back to him like a flame sparking up. He fought every day just to stay alive. He was tired of fighting now. Tired of scraping around in the dirt for whatever he could manage.

He wanted life.

However it came.

He could either fight for what he was never promised, for a goal that could never be reached no matter how far he stretched himself, or...

Michael turned back and walked towards the bed where Evelyn lay, still sleeping soundly.

It could be so simple. He could give in and take what he could get for as long as he could have it. Afterall, what was life without a little fun?

"Birkoff. I'm about to send you some information. Run a search, as much as you can find on the name Evelyn Cruz."

"Isn't she the one you're supposed to be training with?" asked Birkoff.

"You'll have to figure out a way to get higher security clearance. Her files may be classified."

"You can't get into them? You're higher clearance than I am."

"No. You'll need to get higher than Level 5."

"Got it."

Michael could hear Birkoff busily typing away at his computer.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the reason for doing a search on her? You suspect her of something?"

"No...Not yet..." said Michael.

"Not yet?"

"Just get me whatever you find on her. I'll be back in touch soon. Bury the file in something Section won't flag."

"I'm already constructing a hole now. Anything else?"

"No. Just get me what you can."

Michael ended the call, pulling the encryption line from Evelyn's computer and closing the laptop. He could still hear her in the shower, still singing. He erased the phone call list and replaced the chord back in her desk drawer. He lay back on the bed. Internally, he was arguing with himself. He could just let the whole thing go and continue on with the dream he was becoming accustomed to. He could close his eyes to everything and pretend there was nothing wrong. But there was something in the very back of his mind that kept quietly insisting he look. Insisting that he know what he did not know. He hoped that what Birkoff would send back would be something he already knew, or something that could be easily explained. But he knew better. She was Section, after all, and anything that had to do with Section never came back easy or explainable. He could not ignore his senses. The beautiful voice that floated about in the sugar scented air belonged to a woman he did not know. He was fast falling, desperate to hold her close to him and feel her touch. The fingertips that he kissed, the eyes he longed to be held in forever, and the lips he had tasted many times over now were still alien to him. He had to find out who she was, how she came to be at Section, and how she managed to wind up here. It no longer mattered if he did not like what he found. Not everyone's past was as uncomplicated or as simple as those like Nikita or Birkoff. He could not expect to find her criminal record marred with only one incident. He could only hope that what was found would not change the perfect image that he had of her in his mind.

Evelyn appeared from the bathroom, toweling off her head and smiling. She was wearing only a pair of red thong underwear as she jumped across the bed to land in his arms. He kissed her, enjoying the fresh scent of her soap. As he stared long into her eyes, he touched her face gently all the while wondering who it was that he was holding in his arms. Were the feelings that had taken over him real? Or was she an illusion he created in his mind? Would he wake one day and find her disappeared from him? Would she be taken away from him like so many others were by Section's unwavering mission to keep him obedient by denying him what he wanted? Was she real at all, or was she as she had told him before?

A ghost.