Early October 1998
From his perch, Operations observed Michael enter the staging area on his way out of section. Just over 2 month ago, he had sat in Madeline's office as she confirmed that Nikita had died in a burning car in the middle of nowhere. He had prepared himself to watch Michael slowly self-destruct. Instead he had witnessed Michael find the courage and strength to face his pain and grief. He didn't know who to thank more for that - Michael, Walter, Madeline or Nikita, herself. All had played a role in helping Michael and, in their respective ways, continued to help him.
He continued to watch as Michael paused, responding to Birkoff's call, and then walked to stand behind him. Peripherally, Operations spotted Madeline and he shifted his gaze to watched the seductive sway of her hips as she strode across the catwalk. Her deep brown hair lit warmly under the lights, the equally dark brown coatdress she wore accentuating her perfect hourglass figure. He followed her progress down the steps, across the staging area. He continued to watch as she leaned over Birkoff's shoulder pointing to something on the screen, her dress shaping around her derriere. Slowly, Madeline turned her face up and their eyes locked. Operations watched as she smiled the slight Mona Lisa smile that she had favored for so long and remembered another smile, from long ago when they were different people; one that belonged to a woman he wondered if still existed. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to remember.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
New Year's Eve, 1970, American Embassy in Australia
The ballroom glittered. The sequins on the lavish gowns and the jewels of the woman who glided about the room caught the light the exquisite cut crystal chandeliers.
Turning toward his partner, he allowed his eyes to drift over the long black evening dress that clung to her curves. Her hair was arranged atop her head, a small camera hidden in the dark brown tress, disguised by the clip that held it all in place. Her eyes, alight with a cold calculating flame, met his as she extended her hand and lead him to the dance floor.
"I see him. In the far corner, by the balcony - he is sitting on one of the benches." Her voice was a low whisper in his ear as he turned her across the room in his arms. He felt her arms drift under his jacket, caressing his back before grasping the gun holstered there. Carefully, he maneuvered them toward their target. "All teams prepare to move," he whispered low into the receiver concealed behind Madeline's ear.
Finally drawing near the target, Madeline skillfully withdrew from his arms and maneuvered them to stand behind the bench, her arm still concealed within his jacket. With the ease and fluidity of a skilled dancer, Madeline separated from him, drawing the gun with her, keeping it hidden behind the target's back as she moved to sit beside him.
"Hello, Dr. Reardon." The glint of steel in her eyes belied the warmth and gentleness of her tone. "I need you to come with us." Madeline continued pressing the gun firmly into the small of the targets back. The bewildered doctor turned his face up, looking first at the woman beside him and toward himself. He watched the doctor's expression turned to fear.
"We have no intention of hurting you, Doctor. We are here for your protection. Just come with us and everything will be fine." Her voice was smooth, velvety, and seductive. A calm settled over the doctor and he smoothly stood with Madeline and together they walked through the ballroom, up the stairs and out into the receiving hall. Two tuxedo-clad operatives approached them, each with overcoats draped over their arms. He nodded to them, stepping slightly behind them, allowing one to move into his position beside the doctor and positioning himself to cover Madeline. With the ease of a long practiced movement, Madeline shifted toward him, allowing her arms to slide around his waist in an embrace. As she lay her head on his chest, calling out the good-bye their scenario required, her hand slipped the gun back into its holster at his back.
The sequence complete and the target acquired, all operative teams were ordered to leave separately and report back to the plane. Gazing down at the woman still wrapped in his arms, he was once again caught in the fire that glowed in her rich brown eyes. A warm, passionate blaze that burned for only him. Slowly, he turned her back toward the ballroom, keeping her pressed to his side with an arm about her waist. Taking two champagne flutes from a passing server, he handed one to Madeline, his eyes trailing over her body, appreciating the image she presented. Raising his hand in a silent toast, he smiled at her, letting her see the love he felt for her in his eyes. His heart raced to see the returned love in her eyes. Tilting the glasses, he downed the champagne. Taking her glass, also empty, he set it with his on a table before pulling her into his body and guiding her to the dance floor. Time disappeared as he glided across the floor with Madeline held close in his arms. They danced until the music stopped and the countdown began. When the count reached five, Madeline turned in his arms to face him, drawing her hands up to cup his face; she gently drew his head down. Their lips met as the sound of horns rung in a New Year.
When he pulled back from the kiss, he saw the mischievous twist to Madeline's smile. He wanted to laugh at the sheer joy and the thrill of life that burned through him at that smile. Taking his hand, Madeline lead him through the throngs of guests on the ballroom floor and out into the warm night. h3~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Paul?"
The smooth, familiar voice called him back. Opening his eyes he found that it was no longer Madeline's eyes that stared up at him from the staging area, but Michael's typically blank ones. For a moment, he wondered if he stood face to face with Michael would he be able to see the pain that still lingered behind that mask. Pain caused by Nikita's death. Quietly, Operations sent a prayer of thanks to whatever powers existed that he had yet to experience that pain, before answering the woman that still, after all their years together in world of ghosts, shadows and betrayals, owned his heart.
"Yes, Madeline," he said, still staring out his window, the spoken words devoid of the feelings that caromed through him. Touching the keypad, he darkened the window as he felt her approach him. She stopped when she stood barely a hair's breath from him, close enough for him to feel her breathing beside him. Turning, he gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign of the girl who had once laughed and smiled with him. The one who had loved him. On impulse, he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his lips to meet hers. Operations felt the shock run through her just before she responded, her hands brushing against his chest, rising up to wrap about his neck.
Gently he pulled away, gazing down into Madeline's surprised eyes, and, for a moment, he thought he saw the old blaze in their deep brown depths. He hoped it wasn't a dream and his Madeline was truly standing before him. Operations traced the curve of her cheek before turning away and walking toward his desk, allowing Madeline, and himself, to again retreat behind their respective emotional walls.
Madeline once again closed the distance between them, moving to stand beside his desk. He could feel her steady gaze as she undoubtedly gauged him. "We are getting a code alpha priority one report from John Marks, a level 5 operative out of our subsection in New York. It is coded for your eyes only. Birkoff is transferring it up now. Do you want Michael to stay until we know what this is about, in case he is needed?" Her voice as even and smooth as ever.
When he looked up to meet her eyes, they were cold and calculating and he found himself wondering once more if he had only imagined the warm flicker he had seen before. Looking back to his computer, he called up the message and keyed in his access codes. His heart froze in his chest. With a quick flick of a finger, he cut the image and turned to Madeline.
"No. Send Michael home, but tell him to stay close. He won't be needed for this." With concerted effort and years of practice, Operations managed to keep his voice even and controlled. He sat there allowing Madeline's analyzing gaze for a few moments. "Is there anything else?" he asked simply.
"No," she answered coolly before turning to walk away.
Instinctively, Operations reached out, grabbing her forearm, "Madeline"
Looking over her shoulder at him with blank eyes, she waited for him to continue.
Reluctantly, he released her arm, "Nothing." He watched the fleeting second of confusion and curiosity cross her face and then he saw it again, the brief but intense blaze in her eyes. Somewhere inside her, his Madeline still lived. Silently, he thanked the powers that be for that, knowing he would need the strength and determination he would gain from it in the days ahead. Once she was gone, he turned on his monitor again and gazed in horror at the image, one thought running through his mind: Not again.
****
I remember days full of restlessness and fury
I remember nights that were drunk on dreams
I remember someone who hungered for the glory
I remember her, but it seems. . . she's gone . . .
Where's the girl?
Where's the girl with the blaze in her eyes?
Where's the girl with that gaze of surprise?
Now and then I still dream she's beside me . . .
Where's the girl
who could turn on the edge of a knife?
Where's the girl who was burning for life?
I can still feel her breathing beside me.
And I know
She remembers how fearless it feels
to take off with the wind at your heels -
she and I took this world like a storm!
Come Again!
Let the girl in your heart tumble free.
Bring your renegade heart home to me
in the dark of the morning
I'll warm you, I'll arouse you. . .
Marguerite (read Madeline)
Don't forget that I know who you are
we were cut from the same surly star
like two jewels in the night, sharing fire.
Where's the girl
so alive and aching for more
we had dreams that were worth dying for
we were caught in the eye of the storm!
Come again!
Let the girl in your heart tumble free
bring your renegade heart home to me
in the dark of the morning
I'll warm you, I'll arouse you . .
Where's the girl?
Is she gazing at me with surprise?
Do I still see that blaze in her eyes?
Am I dreaming or is she beside me. . . now. . .?
"Where's the Girl?" from the Scarlet Pimpernel
By Wildhorn and Knighton
From his perch, Operations observed Michael enter the staging area on his way out of section. Just over 2 month ago, he had sat in Madeline's office as she confirmed that Nikita had died in a burning car in the middle of nowhere. He had prepared himself to watch Michael slowly self-destruct. Instead he had witnessed Michael find the courage and strength to face his pain and grief. He didn't know who to thank more for that - Michael, Walter, Madeline or Nikita, herself. All had played a role in helping Michael and, in their respective ways, continued to help him.
He continued to watch as Michael paused, responding to Birkoff's call, and then walked to stand behind him. Peripherally, Operations spotted Madeline and he shifted his gaze to watched the seductive sway of her hips as she strode across the catwalk. Her deep brown hair lit warmly under the lights, the equally dark brown coatdress she wore accentuating her perfect hourglass figure. He followed her progress down the steps, across the staging area. He continued to watch as she leaned over Birkoff's shoulder pointing to something on the screen, her dress shaping around her derriere. Slowly, Madeline turned her face up and their eyes locked. Operations watched as she smiled the slight Mona Lisa smile that she had favored for so long and remembered another smile, from long ago when they were different people; one that belonged to a woman he wondered if still existed. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to remember.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
New Year's Eve, 1970, American Embassy in Australia
The ballroom glittered. The sequins on the lavish gowns and the jewels of the woman who glided about the room caught the light the exquisite cut crystal chandeliers.
Turning toward his partner, he allowed his eyes to drift over the long black evening dress that clung to her curves. Her hair was arranged atop her head, a small camera hidden in the dark brown tress, disguised by the clip that held it all in place. Her eyes, alight with a cold calculating flame, met his as she extended her hand and lead him to the dance floor.
"I see him. In the far corner, by the balcony - he is sitting on one of the benches." Her voice was a low whisper in his ear as he turned her across the room in his arms. He felt her arms drift under his jacket, caressing his back before grasping the gun holstered there. Carefully, he maneuvered them toward their target. "All teams prepare to move," he whispered low into the receiver concealed behind Madeline's ear.
Finally drawing near the target, Madeline skillfully withdrew from his arms and maneuvered them to stand behind the bench, her arm still concealed within his jacket. With the ease and fluidity of a skilled dancer, Madeline separated from him, drawing the gun with her, keeping it hidden behind the target's back as she moved to sit beside him.
"Hello, Dr. Reardon." The glint of steel in her eyes belied the warmth and gentleness of her tone. "I need you to come with us." Madeline continued pressing the gun firmly into the small of the targets back. The bewildered doctor turned his face up, looking first at the woman beside him and toward himself. He watched the doctor's expression turned to fear.
"We have no intention of hurting you, Doctor. We are here for your protection. Just come with us and everything will be fine." Her voice was smooth, velvety, and seductive. A calm settled over the doctor and he smoothly stood with Madeline and together they walked through the ballroom, up the stairs and out into the receiving hall. Two tuxedo-clad operatives approached them, each with overcoats draped over their arms. He nodded to them, stepping slightly behind them, allowing one to move into his position beside the doctor and positioning himself to cover Madeline. With the ease of a long practiced movement, Madeline shifted toward him, allowing her arms to slide around his waist in an embrace. As she lay her head on his chest, calling out the good-bye their scenario required, her hand slipped the gun back into its holster at his back.
The sequence complete and the target acquired, all operative teams were ordered to leave separately and report back to the plane. Gazing down at the woman still wrapped in his arms, he was once again caught in the fire that glowed in her rich brown eyes. A warm, passionate blaze that burned for only him. Slowly, he turned her back toward the ballroom, keeping her pressed to his side with an arm about her waist. Taking two champagne flutes from a passing server, he handed one to Madeline, his eyes trailing over her body, appreciating the image she presented. Raising his hand in a silent toast, he smiled at her, letting her see the love he felt for her in his eyes. His heart raced to see the returned love in her eyes. Tilting the glasses, he downed the champagne. Taking her glass, also empty, he set it with his on a table before pulling her into his body and guiding her to the dance floor. Time disappeared as he glided across the floor with Madeline held close in his arms. They danced until the music stopped and the countdown began. When the count reached five, Madeline turned in his arms to face him, drawing her hands up to cup his face; she gently drew his head down. Their lips met as the sound of horns rung in a New Year.
When he pulled back from the kiss, he saw the mischievous twist to Madeline's smile. He wanted to laugh at the sheer joy and the thrill of life that burned through him at that smile. Taking his hand, Madeline lead him through the throngs of guests on the ballroom floor and out into the warm night. h3~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Paul?"
The smooth, familiar voice called him back. Opening his eyes he found that it was no longer Madeline's eyes that stared up at him from the staging area, but Michael's typically blank ones. For a moment, he wondered if he stood face to face with Michael would he be able to see the pain that still lingered behind that mask. Pain caused by Nikita's death. Quietly, Operations sent a prayer of thanks to whatever powers existed that he had yet to experience that pain, before answering the woman that still, after all their years together in world of ghosts, shadows and betrayals, owned his heart.
"Yes, Madeline," he said, still staring out his window, the spoken words devoid of the feelings that caromed through him. Touching the keypad, he darkened the window as he felt her approach him. She stopped when she stood barely a hair's breath from him, close enough for him to feel her breathing beside him. Turning, he gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign of the girl who had once laughed and smiled with him. The one who had loved him. On impulse, he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his lips to meet hers. Operations felt the shock run through her just before she responded, her hands brushing against his chest, rising up to wrap about his neck.
Gently he pulled away, gazing down into Madeline's surprised eyes, and, for a moment, he thought he saw the old blaze in their deep brown depths. He hoped it wasn't a dream and his Madeline was truly standing before him. Operations traced the curve of her cheek before turning away and walking toward his desk, allowing Madeline, and himself, to again retreat behind their respective emotional walls.
Madeline once again closed the distance between them, moving to stand beside his desk. He could feel her steady gaze as she undoubtedly gauged him. "We are getting a code alpha priority one report from John Marks, a level 5 operative out of our subsection in New York. It is coded for your eyes only. Birkoff is transferring it up now. Do you want Michael to stay until we know what this is about, in case he is needed?" Her voice as even and smooth as ever.
When he looked up to meet her eyes, they were cold and calculating and he found himself wondering once more if he had only imagined the warm flicker he had seen before. Looking back to his computer, he called up the message and keyed in his access codes. His heart froze in his chest. With a quick flick of a finger, he cut the image and turned to Madeline.
"No. Send Michael home, but tell him to stay close. He won't be needed for this." With concerted effort and years of practice, Operations managed to keep his voice even and controlled. He sat there allowing Madeline's analyzing gaze for a few moments. "Is there anything else?" he asked simply.
"No," she answered coolly before turning to walk away.
Instinctively, Operations reached out, grabbing her forearm, "Madeline"
Looking over her shoulder at him with blank eyes, she waited for him to continue.
Reluctantly, he released her arm, "Nothing." He watched the fleeting second of confusion and curiosity cross her face and then he saw it again, the brief but intense blaze in her eyes. Somewhere inside her, his Madeline still lived. Silently, he thanked the powers that be for that, knowing he would need the strength and determination he would gain from it in the days ahead. Once she was gone, he turned on his monitor again and gazed in horror at the image, one thought running through his mind: Not again.
****
I remember days full of restlessness and fury
I remember nights that were drunk on dreams
I remember someone who hungered for the glory
I remember her, but it seems. . . she's gone . . .
Where's the girl?
Where's the girl with the blaze in her eyes?
Where's the girl with that gaze of surprise?
Now and then I still dream she's beside me . . .
Where's the girl
who could turn on the edge of a knife?
Where's the girl who was burning for life?
I can still feel her breathing beside me.
And I know
She remembers how fearless it feels
to take off with the wind at your heels -
she and I took this world like a storm!
Come Again!
Let the girl in your heart tumble free.
Bring your renegade heart home to me
in the dark of the morning
I'll warm you, I'll arouse you. . .
Marguerite (read Madeline)
Don't forget that I know who you are
we were cut from the same surly star
like two jewels in the night, sharing fire.
Where's the girl
so alive and aching for more
we had dreams that were worth dying for
we were caught in the eye of the storm!
Come again!
Let the girl in your heart tumble free
bring your renegade heart home to me
in the dark of the morning
I'll warm you, I'll arouse you . .
Where's the girl?
Is she gazing at me with surprise?
Do I still see that blaze in her eyes?
Am I dreaming or is she beside me. . . now. . .?
"Where's the Girl?" from the Scarlet Pimpernel
By Wildhorn and Knighton