"Hey Walter," said Liz coming up to lean on the table at his workstation.
"Hello sweetness," he said, his face distorted behind the magnifying panel. He continued to work without looking up at her. "What's up?"
"Nothing," she said, idly pushing his tools around.
Walter looked at her over the top of his glasses. Her voice sounded unhappy. She looked very chic in a creme colored tailored suit with a cinnamon colored silk blouse. Her reddish brown curls were tamed into a soft chignon low on the nape of her neck. He watched her for a moment, then went back to work. She'd tell him what was on her mind when she was ready.
"What are you working on?" she asked.
"Oh, it's a com unit we took off that Freedom League operative last week." He looked at the tiny unit under the magnifying panel. "It's pretty advanced technology. They must have contracted outside for it."
She watched him carefully pick the unit apart. He was wearing a red bandana around his head, his gray locks loose from their usual ponytail. A soft black t-shirt and faded black jeans completed his attire. She picked up a multi-meter, touching the probe to her wrist.
"Hey," he said, taking it from her. "Don't mess with this stuff."
"Sorry," she said, pushing herself away from the table and pacing around the small area.
Walter watched her as he sat back down on his stool.
"Liz, honey, what's wrong? You're not yourself lately."
"Nothing. I said nothing's wrong." She came to stand behind him.
"Stop lying," he said, twisting around to look at her. "You're one of those oddballs who actually seem to like Section. Lately though, you've been moping around here with a long face."
She looked up at him, seeing compassion on his face.
"It's just," she started. "Does anyone ever get out of here?"
"Out?" Walter said. "What do you mean out?"
"You know, get away from Section, go back to a normal life."
He looked at her for a moment, and then he turned back to his work.
"Why are you asking?" he said at last.
"I don't know, I was just wondering," she said.
Walter did not have a chance to answer her question.
"Elizabeth?" said Operations. He had walked up silently behind them, startling them both. He was dressed casually, charcoal gray turtleneck, gray wool trousers.
Liz's face was still turned toward Walter. She grimaced, but carefully arranged her face into a neutral look as she turned toward him.
"Yes?" she said.
"Are you ready?"
"Of course," she said.
"Good," he held his hand out, indicating she should walk ahead of him out of the area. He gave Walter a smile that was more like a smirk as he followed her.
Walter sat staring after them as they walked toward an elevator next to the outer hallways. He had one last glimpse of Liz as the doors closed. She had the look of a prisoner going to execution.
Taking a deep breath, Walter turned back to his work. He slowly expelled the breath as he picked up the multi-meter. Soon, unable to concentrate, he put it down and just stared at the magnifying panel.
"Walter," said Michael, approaching silently.
Walter jumped. He turned toward Michael with a look of annoyance.
"What?" he snapped.
Michael stared at Walter, an eyebrow raised.
"Have you seen Elizabeth?"
Walter's eyes got big for a moment, and then he turned away, hunching his shoulders in as if protecting himself.
"Why?" he said.
"I needed to ask her interpretation of some data we retrieved in New Zealand," said Michael.
"She's in a meeting," said Walter, keeping his back toward Michael. "With Operations."
Michael didn't say anything at first, just stood behind Walter, watching him. Finally, Walter turned around.
"What?" he said.
Michael seemed about to say something, but then his expression closed down again, and he backed away, heading toward Operations' perch.
"Not there," Walter blurted out.
Michael stopped, pivoting around to fix his cold stare on Walter. He didn't say anything, just looked at Walter, one eyebrow raised in question. Walter hunched his shoulders forward again.
"He took her downstairs," he said.
Michael shifted his gaze up to Operations' perch again, as if verifying that it was empty then looked back at Walter. They stared at each other in silence, until it became clear that Walter was uncomfortable.
"That elevator," said Walter pointing.
Michael's expression changed momentarily, then switched back to its customary blank stare. He backed up, then walked quietly out of Walter's area, down the hall toward his own office.
Liz maintained a calm exterior as they stood side by side in the elevator. Inside, she was writhing, her emotions twisting together like snakes in a pit. Operations had approached her about this meeting the day before. There was something almost menacing in his tone as he told her to prepare for a meeting.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to reveal a level of Section that she was not familiar with. Instead of the cold, futuristic lines she had seen everywhere else, the hallway was dimly lit. Operations indicated she should precede him out of the elevator. She caught the faint scent of something in the air, the elusive smell of vanilla. Operations guided her to a room off the main hallway. The room was dark, lit only by candles. The furniture was low and comfortable.
Operations indicated she should sit down and he turned away toward a table along one wall. Liz heard the unmistakable sound of a cork being pulled from a wine bottle. Her jumbled emotions were even more confused by the sight of Operations walking toward her holding 2 glasses of wine, a small smile on his face. He sat next to her, close enough so that his leg touched hers.
"A toast," he said.
Liz cleared her throat, her hand shaking slightly as she accepted the glass from him. These were the only outward signs of her nervousness.
"A toast?" she repeated.
"Yes," he said, taking a sip of wine. He raised his arm up and rested it casually along the back of the couch behind her.
"I've been pleased with your work lately," he said turning his body toward her. "Very pleased."
"Thank you sir," she said, sitting next to him rigidly. Instinctively, all her muscles had tightened as soon as he had sat next to her. This was a side of Operations she was not familiar with, and her training had led her to be wary of this change in his personality.
"I was particularly pleased with your performance in New Zealand," he said, leaning forward to set his glass down. As he sat back, he picked up a remote control. He pointed it at the wall in front of them, and a screen lowered down from the ceiling. He pressed another button and the vivid picture of Liz and Michael in bed together leaped across the screen. Her brain froze for a moment; Operations seemed to sense this and gave her a moment before he spoke again.
"I'm upgrading your status, Elizabeth," he said.
Liz's eyes were glued to the screen, watching the whole scene between her and Michael play out. She watched the smooth lines of Michael's back, then started as she heard his voice commanding her to look at him. The mission in New Zealand had required Liz and Michael to pose as a married couple. They had been guests of Arthur Lyle at his ranch outside of Auckland. Lyle dispensed intel based on his guest's bedroom performances. She turned a stricken gaze at Operations.
"Where did you get this tape?" she asked in a choked voice, her gaze drawn back helplessly to the screen.
"That's not important," he replied.
She sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the tape play.
"I'm upgrading your status," Operations repeated, "And assigning you a new mentor. I understand from Madeline that you found it difficult working with Michael, although I don't see the evidence of that here."
Liz turned toward him, her face burning. She struggled for control before she spoke, feeling as if she'd break down in tears.
"This is not what I had chosen for my life," she said.
"You relinquished the right to make decisions about your own life when you were arrested for murder," he said, the tone of his voice changing.
"I didn't commit that crime," she protested.
"Whether you committed the murder or not is irrelevant," he said. "You gave up your right to make choices when you decided to become a drug addict and a hooker. Section makes the choices for you now."
"I want a second chance," she said, loosing the battle with her emotions, tears trickled down her face, her voice cracked with the strain.
"There are no second chances," he said coldly, standing up and walking to the doorway.
Liz sat hunched into a miserable ball, her eyes closed. She could effectively block out the sight of her and Michael on the screen, but she could not block the sounds. Operations returned to the room.
"This is Simon," he said.
Simon had followed Operations into the room from the hallway. He was about 5 foot 9 and slightly built. He had intense brown eyes with finely arched eyebrows. His shoulder length black hair was very full and wavy. He reached up and pushed the hair behind his left ear, and even in her misery, Liz noticed his well-shaped hands, long fingers and neatly tapered nails. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans with holes in the knees and an Irish fisherman's sweater.
"Simon is a Valentine Operative," said Operations. "He's the best we have, and he'll be training you for the next month or so. He will report directly to me on your progress, and I expect you to excel in your training."
Liz still sat hunched on the couch, studying Simon through half closed eyes. He stood in silence watching her, his expression neutral. Finally, he came and sat next to her.
"I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted," said Operations. "Elizabeth, you'll be on close quarter standby until your training is completed."
"I want to see Ben," she said.
"Not this time," said Operations, and he turned and walked out of the room. Liz buried her face in her hands. Simon reached out and put his hand on her back.
"It can't be as bad as all that," he said with his lilting British accent. Liz did not respond to him.
"Elizabeth?" he said, lightly caressing her back.
"Liz," came her muffled reply.
"What?" he asked, leaning closer to her.
She turned her face up toward him.
"Call me Liz," she said, studying his face at close range.
"Well, Liz," he said. "We'll be getting to know each other quite well over the next month." He turned to watch the screen. Apparently, the tape was on a loop, the same scenes playing over and over. "I'm looking forward to it." As he said this, a smile crept across his lips.
Liz was beyond caring. She sat back, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
The next day at a briefing, Michael sat watching Operations. He only gave half his attention to the details of the upcoming mission. The other half of his brain was busy trying to figure out what game Operations was playing now.
The previous month Operations had reassigned Nikita to Section Four. At first, Michael hadn't minded because it had given him a chance to concentrate on breaking down Liz' defenses. Now Liz had been whisked away, and Michael was beginning to feel perturbed.
Operations concluded the briefing and turned to walk away.
"Just a minute," said Michael. Operations stopped and slowly turned back, an eyebrow raised in question.
"With Nikita, and now Elizabeth unavailable, we will need a female operative for this mission."
"I have assigned Perkins to your team," said Operations.
"She's not up to speed," was Michael's reply.
"Then use the time remaining before the mission loads to bring her up to speed," said Operations. "That will be all." He turned away and walked toward his office. Michael pushed his chair away from the table and silently fell into step behind Operations. Once inside Operations' perch, Michael wasted no time in coming to the point.
"Where have you taken Elizabeth?"
"Level fourteen," said Operations. The two men stood facing one another next to the windows that overlooked the main area of Section. When he heard Operations' response, Michael turned away, looking out the window. He scanned his memory, then turned back toward the other man.
Operations turned away and walked toward the computer terminal at the back wall of his office. He pressed a button, then turned back toward Michael a smirk on his face. Michael's eyes shifted toward the terminal.
There, in full color but mercifully minus the sound, was the video of Michael and Liz in bed at Lyle's ranch. To Michael's credit, his outward expression showed no sign of the turmoil brewing within. After a moment, he stepped forward and pushed a button on the keyboard, stopping the video.
"Lyle works for you," he said, raising his green eyes to meet the hard steel of Operations eyes.
"That's correct," said Operations. "It was a test for Elizabeth as much as it was for you. She has passed her test." He left the rest of the statement unsaid, but Michael knew that his test was still in front of him.
Michael turned and walked back to the windows. He stood with his back toward Operations. While he seemed to be surveying the activity in central communications, his mind was racing.
"Sir," came a voice across Operations' intercom. "Is Michael with you?"
Michael turned back, exchanging a long look with Operations.
"Yes," said Operations.
"Perkins is here," replied the voice.
"On my way," said Michael, walking out of the office without a backward glance.
Liz' training with Simon progressed slowly. It was partly because she was resisting being pushed around by Section, and partly because of the humiliation she felt. Regardless of what Operations had said, she did not feel she had brought this horror on herself. Nothing she had experienced in her life yet had prepared her for this.
Simon was like Michael in that he was very demanding. The standards he set seemed nearly impossible to attain. On the other hand, Simon was kinder to Liz than Michael had ever been. Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.
They spent the first few days together just talking. Simon wanted to know everything about Liz' background. Because she was angry, she questioned him about his background too.
He was from England; a small town in Surrey called Horley. He'd lived there his whole life. He wouldn't tell her specifically how he'd come to Section. He said it was a case of being in the wrong place at the right time.
Liz never saw anyone else on Level Fourteen. They were quite alone. She soon began to suspect that something was being added to her food to make her feel the way she did. Even though she felt humiliated when the training escalated and Simon began taking liberties with her body, she found that she wanted him to.
The training moved from talking to the physical mechanics of using sex as a weapon. Simon demanded that she stop wearing clothes to the sessions. She thought she knew every trick, but soon found out he had a lot to teach her.
On this particular day, she sat in the center of a huge bed. Simon paced in front her, from one side of the bed to the other.
"What do you see?" he said softly, stopping behind her.
It was dark in the room, and getting late in the day as well. Liz was tired.
"What am I supposed to see?" she snapped irritably.
"Concentrate," he commanded.
She looked again, scanning the room until she saw a laptop on the floor in the corner, data scrolling by on the screen.
"I see it," she said.
"Good," he replied. Liz felt the bed sink as he climbed up behind her.
"What does it say?" he asked, placing his warm hands on her shoulders.
"I don't know," she said, a hint of frustration in her voice.
He didn't answer, but slid his hands down her arms, then up her torso to lightly cup her breasts.
Her face flaming, she squinted at the tiny screen again.
"It looks like coordinates," she whispered knowing her voice would crack if she spoke out loud.
"What kind of coordinates?" Simon said, his hair brushing her cheek as he leaned forward to nuzzle her ear lobe.
"I'm not sure," she whispered.
He pinched her nipples hard, and she cried out in pain, flinging herself away from him on the bed. She curled into a ball on her side, turned away from him.
He sighed, then stretched out behind her, pulling her into his arms. He let her cry for a moment, then began to lightly caress her arm.
"I'm sorry love," he whispered into her ear.
She rolled toward him, looking up at him.
"No you're not," she said.
He smiled bending forward to kiss her tear stained cheeks.
"Yes I am," he said.
"Then give me a break, let me rest," she stopped and gained control of her voice. "Let me see Ben."
"No, not that," he said, sitting up. He frowned at her briefly, then stood up and walked toward the doorway. He touched a button on the wall next to the light switch and she heard the electronic sound of the surveillance equipment shutting down.
"We only have a few minutes," he said, rejoining her on the bed.
"For what?" she said.
"Section is watching, they'll soon discover I de-activated their camera, and then there'll be hell to pay," he said, a lopsided grin on his face. He lay down next to her, positioning her against him spoon fashion.
"I can't let you see Ben," he said. "Operations doesn't want that. He wants you trained and ready to go by next month. Ben will be a distraction to you. The more you resist, the harder it is for me to train you."
"But, I don't want this assignment," she said.
"Well, you have it, so get used to it. Once Operations makes up his mind there's no changing it. Trust me, just play along, and you'll soon be out of here."
She sagged back against him in defeat, feeling miserable.
"Can I at least see Michael?" she asked.
"No," Simon said, a bit harshly. "You don't report to him anymore, you report to me. In a minute, Section will contact us. I'll have to reactivate the monitoring system. We'll pretend to give it another go, and you'll tell me that the coordinates are for air-tactical."
"Simon," said a voice over the intercom. "We've lost your connection. Can you check it on your end?"
"Straight away," he said, gazing at Liz for one last unguarded moment before getting up and returning to the doorway.
Liz lay on the bed, unmoving.
Michael sat in his office typing data into his computer from the previous day's mission. He appeared to be giving the task his full attention, but under that controlled exterior he was thinking about Liz.
A movement in the doorway caught his attention, and he looked up to see the imposing figure of Ben standing there. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Michael raised a hand indicating that Ben should sit across from him. Michael pulled a small control pad out of the desk beside him, pushed a few buttons, and secured the room. He looked up at Ben.
Ben was dressed in a black gi, which made him an even more imposing figure. His slate gray eyes locked on Michael's for a minute more, then he spoke.
"Where is Liz?"
"Level fourteen," said Michael.
"Level fourteen?" repeated Ben.
"It's where they train the Valentine Operatives," said Michael, his hands resting on the desk in front of him.
"I'm aware of what Level Fourteen is," said Ben. "But what is Liz doing there?"
"Training," said Michael.
Ben sat in silence, the deep-seated resentment he felt toward Michael coming to the surface. There had been an incident between them years ago when they were both new in Section. Michael had inadvertently walked into a meeting in which Operations was telling Ben, in no uncertain terms that he was not cut out to be an operative. The only thing saving Ben from cancellation, Operations had said, was his considerable knowledge of Martial Arts. Then Operations seeing Michael, had held him up as a prime example of what an Operative should be. Nothing Michael said afterwards could ease the humiliation of that moment for Ben.
"Look, you son of a bitch," said Ben, "Cut the bullshit and tell me what's going on."
Michael closed his eyes for a minute, and when he opened them again the cold look had left his features.
"After our mission in New Zealand, Operations reassigned Elizabeth," he said.
"The mission where you," Ben started angrily, then stopped, slumping back in his chair.
"You always get the best of me Michael," he said. "You're always there to gloat over me."
Michael sat silently, regaining some of his coldness.
"You're always there when the thing I want most is ripped away from me," Ben said, his hands clenched in fists on the arms of the chair.
"This was not my choice," said Michael.
"I don't care," said Ben through clenched teeth.
Michael stood up then and walked over to the window. He stood looking out; his back turned toward Ben.
"What if we made a swap?" Michael said.
"What do you mean?" said Ben, still angry.
"Nikita is in Section Four," said Michael turning around. "If we sent you to Section Four, perhaps we could have Nikita returned here."
Ben stood up and crossed to the window, his hands still clenched into fists.
"How is that going to help me?" He stood almost nose to nose with Michael.
"Section Four needs Valentine Operatives," said Michael, not flinching or backing down.
At these words, Ben deflated a little. He turned and walked back to the chair and sat down.
"Will this plan of yours work?" he said at last.
Michael returned to the desk and sat down.
"Yes," was all he said. He turned then and reset the controls on the pad by the side of the desk, indicating that the interview was over.
A week later, Liz was still in training with Simon. She had not progressed any farther. Despite what he had said, she could not bring herself to respond to him.
She lay under the sheet in the huge bed waiting for him. Even though she knew he was annoyed with her, he never appeared angry. Patiently he ran through the training exercises with her.
Today, she felt restless. Whatever drugs they had been adding to her food had been increased. She felt hot and cold at the same time. She flipped herself over so she was facing the door. Michael stood just inside the doorway, watching her.
"Michael," she said, sitting up clutching the sheet to her chest.
"Hi," he replied.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Michael pushed away from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe and walked toward her. He was dressed in his customary fashion, black t-shirt, black pants and black jacket.
"I came to see how you're doing," he said sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Does Simon know you're here?"
Michael looked at her, then reached out and pried the sheet from her fingers, letting it fall to her lap.
"I don't answer to Simon," he said, lowering his gaze.
Liz felt light headed, and almost like his eyes were fingers trailing across the sensitive skin of her breasts.
"Get me out of here," she said softly.
"Why?" he said, raising a hand to gently push her back on the bed.
She watched as he gradually pulled the sheet away from her body. When she didn't answer, he broke off his perusal of her and raised his eyes back to her face.
"I don't want this," she said.
"What don't you want?" he said, gently caressing the side of her face, brushing her eyebrow with his thumb.
"This assignment," she said, her body on fire from his light touch. "I want to come back with you."
Michael removed his hands long enough to shrug out of his jacket. He slipped his shoes off and reclined on the bed next to her.
"I thought you hated me?" he said placing a palm on her stomach using circular motions to lightly massage her.
Her eyes closed and for a moment she seemed to lose herself in the sensations he was creating in her body.
"I don't anymore," she whispered.
He moved his hand slowly up her body, just barely touching her. He dipped his head down toward her, whispering in her ear,
"What do you want?"
She made a sound of frustration, opening her eyes wide and meeting his unblinking stare.
"Please Michael," she said.
He stood up then and quickly removed the rest of his clothes before rejoining her on the bed. Carefully, he positioned himself over her, propping himself up so he could look into her eyes.
"You need to escalate your learning curve," he said moving his body slowly. "Start responding more to Simon."
Her eyes were huge watching him above her. The movement of his body was distracting, but she strained to hear what he said.
"If Simon sees you're responding, he'll tell Operations you're ready," Michael continued.
Liz' eyes slipped closed, she raised her arms up, tangling her hands in Michael's hair her breathing coming in short gasps.
"Elizabeth, look at me," Michael commanded, ceasing his movements until she forced her eyes open.
Michael began to move again, and along with the motion of his lower body his hands began a gentle caress over her upper body. It was more difficult to pay attention to what he was saying.
"When you come back upstairs, I can help you." As he said this, his own eyes closed and he increased the pace until his body stiffened and he drew in his breath, letting it out slowly in a ragged sigh. Liz wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly to her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Michael caressed her cheek one more time, then stood up and began to put on his clothes again.
"By the end of the week," he said, then turned and left the room. Liz wrapped the sheet around her and turned on to her side, a small smile on her lips. At the sound of someone clapping, she rolled back to see Simon, dressed in a robe, standing inside the room.
"Congratulations Liz," he said. He stopped clapping and stood with his hands folded in front of him. "You've just had a lesson from one of the best." With that he turned and walked out of the room.
Liz stared after him, shock and disbelief warring within her.
"That will be all," said Operations. He and Michael were wrapping up their weekly meeting.
"There's one other thing," said Michael. "Perkins is not a reliable replacement for either Nikita or Elizabeth, she lacks discipline."
"What's the alternative?" asked Operations, watching Michael's expression carefully.
"Section Four is beginning to escalate their field activities. Perhaps if we transferred Ben to them they could increase their effectiveness. They might then be persuaded to return Nikita to us."
Operations nodded.
"At some point in the future," Michael continued, "We could also transfer Elizabeth to them."
Operations removed his glasses, fixing Michael with an icy stare.
"I'm disappointed Michael," he said. "You know Section Four is strictly a tactical operation."
The brief flash of surprise on Michael's face was quickly covered.
"I'll consider contacting them about Nikita. We could use her back here with Elizabeth's change of status. They might be interested in acquiring someone of Ben's caliber to help with their training program."
Ops turned away, moving toward the window.
"I will not consider moving Elizabeth anywhere. Simon reports that she's progressing nicely. I'll have an assignment for her early next month."
Michael backed slowly away. Operations turned his head, watching Michael retreat down the stairway.
One week later Liz and Simon stood side by side in Operations' perch. In a speech reminiscent of the first time Liz had appeared before him with Michael, Operations told her he was pleased with her training performance.
"You're free to return to your own apartment," Operations said. "Simon will be in touch with you next week. A mission profile is being worked out now. Unlike the profiles with other missions, these generally take a little longer to formulate."
"I'll be with Ben," Liz said, turning toward Simon.
"Ben is being transferred to Section Four," Operations said.
"Excuse me?" Liz turned back to look at Operations.
"We needed to effect a trade with them since we lost you as a field operative."
"Ben is not an operative," she said. Her outward expression did not change, though inside she was reeling. Something was wrong.
"He's not an operative, but he has skills they need," said Simon, reaching out to take her hand.
"But," Liz started; she stopped when Simon squeezed her hand.
"No matter," said Operations. "You need some rest anyway."
Simon turned and led Liz out of the room. Once free of Operations, Liz pulled her hand away from Simon.
"You knew about this?" she demanded bitterly.
"No. Not until yesterday."
She turned away from him angrily and started to walk off.
"Liz, wait," Simon said, following her.
"No. It's all one big manipulation with you and Michael, isn't it?" she turned back toward him. "Leave me alone."
Simon stood watching her walk away toward the outer hallways.
"She's angry, but she'll cool down," said Michael as he walked up silently to stand next to Simon.
Simon turned and studied Michael through narrowed eyes.
"I hope so," he said, "I wouldn't want to be sullied with the same stench that she thinks clings to you." He turned and walked away.
Michael's eyes widened slightly. He shifted his gaze up to Operations' perch, meeting the older man's eyes briefly, and then he too turned and walked away.
Liz lay in bed in her own apartment staring at the ceiling. She was glad to be home again, but sleep wouldn't come. She turned her head to look at the clock. It was three AM.
The phone rang, startling her. She considered ignoring it, but reached over and picked it up.
"Lucienne," said Michael's soft voice.
"I don't answer to you anymore," she said coldly.
"Come in," he said, then disconnected, leaving her listening to the dial tone. Exasperated, she flung herself out of bed and got dressed.
When she arrived at Section some time later, it was dark. Only one person sat in communications, monitoring the screens. She walked down the hallway toward Michael's office. He stepped out of the doorway just as she arrived.
"What's this all about?" she demanded.
Michael stood silently, looking at her. She was wearing a long blue coat, pulled tightly around her. A black beret pulled low across her forehead covered her hair. He reached up and pulled the beret off, folded it and handed it to her.
"This way," he said, walking down the hallway.
"Where are we going?" she asked, falling into step behind him.
"To my quarters," he said.
She stopped walking and stared after his retreating back. Curiosity got the best of her and reluctantly she followed him.
He stood inside the doorway waiting for her. When she entered the room he pulled her into his arms, caressing the back of her head. They stood against the wall next to the door.
"You'll only have five minutes," he whispered into her ear.
"What?" she said.
He broke the embrace and backed away from her pointing to the device he had attached to the wall, then he walked out of the room.
"Liz?"
She whirled around and saw a figure standing silhouetted in the doorway of the bathroom.
"Ben?" she said, walking rapidly toward him.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. His hands searched up and down her back as if memorizing the feel of her body in his arms.
"They're sending you away," she said, burying her face into the soft fabric of his sweater. A lump had formed in her throat making it difficult to speak.
"It's ok, we'll be together soon," he said slipping his hands under her coat.
"How?" she said.
"Shh," he replied claiming her lips again. "Don't talk now."
They stood in each other's arms, kissing, touching, and communicating without words. He reached up a hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb.
Soon the door opened, and Michael came back into the room.
"It's time," he said.
Ben wrapped his arms around Liz one last time, whispering into her ear,
"I love you."
She was too overcome to respond. Unwillingly, he let go and walked over to the doorway. His eyes met Michael's briefly, and then he walked out of the room.
"Elizabeth, come here." said Michael.
Liz turned, and slowly walked toward him. He looked at her a moment, then drew her into his arms. He reached down and deactivated the blocking device.
"He'll be transferred tomorrow," he said softly, holding her against him.
She was too drained to respond, so she stood silently in his arms.
"I will try," he whispered, putting a hand under her chin and raising her face up toward him. "To get you transferred too."
Her expression changed, the sadness retreating to be replaced by hope.
"You will?"
He nodded. She raised her arms and put them around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Above her head, Michael stared blankly at the opposite wall.
"Congratulations on a successful mission," said Operations. "Lazlo never knew what hit him."
Liz and Simon stood together in Operations' office.
"You won't have much down time I'm afraid," he continued. "The situation in Madrid had reached the critical stage. We'll need you in place by week's end."
"Madrid?" said Liz.
"Simon will fill you in on the details," said Operations. He turned away signaling the end of the interview.
"Just a minute," Liz said as Simon took her arm. Operations turned back. "What about Section Four."
"Section Four?" he said, and eyebrow raised in question.
"I thought," she began uncertainly. "Michael said." She stopped and walked over to the window. She looked down across the main area of Section.
"He said there was a possibility of me transferring to Section Four," Liz said.
"Let me make this clear for you Elizabeth," Operations said. Liz turned from the window.
"You don't work for Michael, you work for me. In the first place, Section Four doesn't use Valentine Operatives." He walked toward her menacingly. "In the second place, you are too valuable to me. I'm not in the habit of expending time and money to train operatives just to hand them over to other Sections." He stood staring down at her. "That will be all."
Liz turned and fled from the room. At the foot of the stairs that led to Operations' office, she stopped. Michael stood next to the briefing table. Simon walked down the stairway and stopped, putting his arm around Liz.
Nikita walked across toward Michael from Walter's station. Liz watched as they talked then Michael reached up and smoothed Nikita's hair back from her face. Nikita turned and walked away, a smile on her face. Simon squeezed Liz' arm, and when she looked up at him he wore a rueful expression.
"Come on," he said. "Let's review Madrid."
Liz nodded and followed him out of the room. Everything was crystal clear to her now.
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