Section Takes a Field Trip

"I don't believe this!" Operations slapped the letter down on his desk. He stared at it a

few moments, then pressed a button.

"Madeline, I need to see you immediately!"

When Madeline arrived, she found him pacing back and forth in the Perch. She hadn't seen him this worked up since that time Michael and Nikita went missing for several months.

"You seem very upset," she said quietly.

"You have no idea!" he ranted. "It seems George had too much time on his hands and has been reviewing our medical files. He's ordered all operatives to have their annual physicals this month, starting with Section One.

"What's the problem? All sectors are quiet at the moment. Besides, I've been worried about your blood pressure."

"There's nothing wrong with my blood pressure!" he retorted as he reached into his jacket for some aspirin. "My problem is George and his meddling." Madeline rolled her eyes as she watched him pace back and forth.

"When do the physicals start?"

He thrust the letter into her hands. "Tomorrow at 9 o'clock." She looked at it briefly.

"Why does he have us going to 's? Why not use our doctors?"

"Oh, that's the other thing. He's sent all of them to the annual meeting of the Society of Emergency Medicine. In Las Vegas, no less! I can't see them learning much there among all those Elvis impersonators," he snorted.

Madeline sighed. "There's nothing we can do about it, so we might as well call a briefing."

Twenty minutes later they were all at the briefing table – Michael, Nikita, Birkoff, Walter, and Davenport. Madeline stood by Operations as he explained George's orders.

"Davenport will assume command in my absence and the six of us will meet at Van Access tomorrow at 0800. Are there any questions?" Operations scanned their faces, but no questions were raised.

"Dismissed."

"I've never been to a real hospital!" Birkoff whispered to Nikita. "What's it like?" He was excited, having literally grown up in Section.

"Well, it's all white and sterile and antiseptic-smelling," she replied.

"You mean like the White Room?"

"Yeah, except at the hospital they're trying to cure people, not torture the hell out of them!" she laughed.

"Hmm. . .wonder if they still have candy-stripers?" Walter pondered.

"Candy-stripers? What's that?" inquired Birkoff.

"You'll see," laughed Walter.

0800 – Van Access

Operations stood at the door while Walter and Birkoff filed past. He looked impatiently at his watch and turned to Madeline.

"Where are Michael and Nikita?"

Just at that moment, they came around the corner. "We are here," Michael answered.

"Well, hurry up! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back here to our main objective of stamping out terrorism. I'm worried about that situation in Nairobi."

"You know Davenport will let us know if anything changes," offered Madeline. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day at St. Bart's if she had to keep humoring Paul.

Michael leaned toward Nikita as they walked toward the elevator and whispered, "We can work this to our advantage."

"What do you mean?" Nikita was instantly alert.

"Just trust me," Michael said.

"Yeah, I've heard that before," she countered. At least it would be a day out in the real world without worrying about a mission. And she would be with Michael. She smiled and reached for his hand, not caring if Madeline or Operations saw it.

They entered the van and settled down for the 45-minute drive to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. It would take at least that long, maybe longer, in the morning traffic since the hospital was on the outskirts of Paris.

Madeline was looking at the schedule of their appointments.

"First, we'll go to outpatient registration to do paperwork. Next, everyone will get a chest x-ray and lab work. After that, return to the outpatient waiting room for further instructions."

"What exactly are they going to do to us?" asked Nikita.

"Each operative has a different profile. We'll learn more at outpatient registration," replied Madeline.

Nikita nudged Michael. "Maybe they can determine if Operations has a heart."

Madeline overheard the remark and gave Nikita a disapproving look.

The patients from Section One attracted attention the minute they walked into the hospital. Their somber greys and blacks contrasted sharply with the white-uniformed medical personnel. They proceeded to outpatient registration and were given clipboards with paperwork to complete.

One receptionist whispered to the other, "Who is this? The Addams Family?"

However, both young women could not take their eyes off Michael.

"I'd like to be the doctor who examines him," one said dreamily.

"No way. I saw him first," the other one replied.

"Madeline, what's my social security number? It's been years since anyone asked me for that." Operations was annoyed at having to fill out a bunch of forms and his Mont Blanc pen didn't seem to be working.

Madeline sighed and consulted her PDA. "Here it is."

He put on his glasses. "Oh yes, now I remember."

"What should I put for 'occupation'?" Walter asked.

"How about 'security and hardware consultant'?" offered Birkoff.

Walter scratched his chin a moment. "Yeah, I like the sound of that."

"Why didn't you wear pants today?" Michael grumbled as he eyed Nikita's short black leather skirt and neon-pink shirt.

"Excuse me?"

"Every man here with a pulse has been giving you the once-over."

She gave Michael a brilliant smile. "They're all at the cleaners." She really loved it when he was jealous and protective of her.

"So, what are you going to do about all these lecherous men, cancel them?"

Michael said nothing, but had a sinister look on his face.

After about ten minutes, the operatives had finished their paperwork and were waiting to be called to the lab.

At last, a teenaged girl in a red-and-white pinafore appeared and indicated they were to follow her.

Walter nudged Birkoff. "My boy, that is a candy-striper!" She was tall and thin with long chestnut-colored hair and big brown eyes. Birkoff's mouth hung open. It was love, or perhaps lust, at first sight.

"I see what you mean, Walter."

"My name is Amanda and I'll be taking you to your appointments today," she announced to the group.

They walked down the hall and around the corner and came to the lab. Amanda peered in and saw that the waiting room was very crowded.

"Why don't half of you go ahead and have your blood drawn now and I'll take the rest of you to x-ray."

"I don't mind going to x-ray first!" Birkoff piped up. He wanted to stay close to Amanda.

Birkoff, Nikita and Michael trailed along behind Amanda until they came to x-ray. On the door there was a large sign that read:

If you are pregnant, or think you may be pregnant, please inform the technologist.

Michael whispered in Nikita's ear, "You're not, are you?"

"Well, if I was, it certainly would not be yours," she answered haughtily. She couldn't even remember the last time he had been to her apartment, much less wanted to be intimate with her.

"We'll have to do something about that, won't we?" Michael answered smoothly.

Before Nikita could respond, Michael was being called into the room for his chest x-ray.

Nikita stood at the door and watched as a group of young x-ray students, all female, jockeyed with one another for the honor of positioning Michael. They were all trying, without much success, to suppress nervous giggles when their instructor came in and took the privilege of actually touching Michael. The lucky woman! Nikita rolled her eyes as she heard the girls whispering about him.

"Wonder if he has a girlfriend?"

"He's not wearing a wedding band."

"Check out those muscles!"

Nikita was now called in, but the students were still ogling Michael. Nikita boldly marched over to the corner where he was putting his sweater back on, grabbed his shoulders and plastered a big kiss on his lips. Michael was taken aback at her behavior. This was not a mission, after all.

"Sorry, girls. He's taken!" she said gaily.

Nikita wished she had a camera to capture the look of total disbelief on the students' faces. It was priceless! She had even shocked Michael, and that was the best part.

Back in the hall, Michael questioned her. "What was that all about?"

"Just guarding my property," she answered as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Now Amanda was taking them back to the lab. Operations, Madeline, and Walter were standing in the hall waiting for them. Operations was not amused. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and numerous band aids decorated both arms.

"I thought they would never find a vein!" he exclaimed. "It was worse than Chinese water torture."

Walter and Madeline exchanged glances. They had been lucky – only one needle stick for each of them. "Paul, it's because you were dehydrated. You never drink enough water," said Madeline.

They now proceeded to x-ray and Nikita, Michael, and Birkoff sat down in the lab waiting area.

"What do you think of Amanda?" Birkoff asked Michael. He knew Michael had a lot of experience with women. Without Michael doing anything, women would throw themselves at him.

"She seems very nice. Are you interested in her?"

"Well, yeah, but how do I go about asking her out?" Birkoff was excellent with computers, but was somewhat lacking in people skills, especially if it involved the opposite sex.

"You just. . .ask her," replied Michael with his famous blank stare.

"Is that what you did with Nikita?"

Nikita had been quietly listening to the conversation, but now she put in her two cents' worth.

"No, Birkoff. He shoved me down on the briefing table late one night, ripped my clothes off, and made wild, passionate love to me!"

Birkoff's eyes grew wide. He wasn't sure if Nikita was joking or not. It almost sounded like something Michael would do.

"Okay, enough information, guys." Birkoff looked puzzled, but kept quiet.

Michael was getting aroused. After Nikita's remarks, she had looked directly at him and slowly licked her lips. She was being very naughty today and he might have to reprimand her. . .soon.

Before the three even had time to pick up an outdated magazine, a phlebotomist was calling them to the back. Each one of them was directed to a separate curtained off cubicle. Michael was in the first one and a male phlebotomist came in and without even a greeting, jabbed a needle in his right arm.

Then the young man went to the next cubicle and began chatting up Nikita. He was falling all over himself to make an impression on her. Nikita was laughing and seemingly encouraging him, much to Michael's consternation.

It apparently was taking quite a while to get Nikita's sample. Michael sat there as long as he could stand it. Finally, he stood up and yanked back the curtain.

"Are you finished with us?" he demanded. The phlebotomist was just putting the band aid on Nikita's arm and looked very miffed.

"As a matter of fact, yes. You can go back to the waiting room."

Michael glared at Nikita and she got up and followed him out.

When the phlebotomist got to Birkoff, he said, "What's with that guy? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Oh, he's a little uptight. Didn't get his cappuccino this morning and that was his girlfriend you were hitting on."

Everyone was back in the outpatient waiting room. Suddenly, Amanda appeared and said that there had been a computer problem and some of their orders had been lost.

"Good grief! How long is this going to take?" Operations mumbled under his breath.

"Since we don't have an in-house trouble-shooter, it could be a couple of hours," she replied.

Birkoff jumped up. "I know about computers! Maybe I could help!"

"Sure, why not? Come with me," Amanda answered.

They went to the front desk where several women were standing around the computer. Birkoff slid into a chair and started typing. He began asking questions and throwing out technical jargon. While he was occupied there, a nurse came out and loudly announced:

"Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Paul Wolfe, it's time for your colonoscopy."

Operations was so stunned at hearing his name in public that he could not move. He remained seated until Madeline nudged him to get up.

"Why couldn't they have lost that order?" he said to no one in particular. He remembered having one of those a few years back when his diverticulosis had flared up. It was not a fond memory. Slowly, he got up and followed the nurse.

Next, Madeline was called for her functional MRI brain scan. George wanted to see exactly what made her tick, if that was even remotely possible. He had never met such a cunning and devious woman in all his years in the spy business.

Operations had to change out of his nice new Versace suit and put on a wrinkled hospital gown. He wondered what to do with his gun. As he stood there holding it, he suddenly heard Madeline laughing across the hall. He stuck his head out of the dressing room and saw her with the radiologist who was going to read her scan. The doctor was young, maybe thirty, with black hair pulled back into a ponytail. They appeared to be having a jolly good time and Operations did not like it one little bit.

Finally, the doctor left and Operations called Madeline over. He handed her the gun.

"Here, keep this for me."

"Why didn't you leave that in the van?" Madeline quickly took the weapon and stuffed it in her purse.

"We're out of our element. There could be hostiles lurking here, maybe even someone from Red Cell."

"Really, Paul, don't you think you're overreacting? This is a hospital, not some terrorist hideout."

"One can never be too careful in our line of work," he said ominously. "And what was so funny over there with that guy?"

"That was Dr. Martinez, the head of neuroradiology. He was explaining what would happen during the scan. He was quite intelligent and charming."

"I'll bet he was," Operations snapped.

After about an hour or so, Operations was finished with the dreaded colonoscopy. He went back to his dressing room only to discover that his clothes were not where he had left them. He looked around in the other dressing rooms, but to no avail. Now in a panic, he grabbed the nurse call line. When one finally appeared, he explained his dilemma.

"Oh, Antonio probably gathered up everything and took it to the laundry." She didn't seem overly concerned about Operations' lack of apparel.

"Well, you'd better find Antonio and get my clothes back! That was a $900 suit!" he ranted.

The nurse shrugged and disappeared down the hall. Twenty minutes later she returned.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but all the laundry has been sent out to our linen services facility on the other side of the city. Today's shipment won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. But not to worry, I've brought you this pair of scrubs to wear home."

"You must be kidding."

The nurse had vanished once more and Operations was left holding a pair of dark blue surgeon's scrubs.

"Wait until I get my hands on George," he muttered under his breath.

When he caught up with Madeline, she raised her eyebrows questionly. Operations put up his hand to cut her off.

"Don't even ask. However, I will say that George may have to buy me a new suit."

While this little drama was taking place, Birkoff and Walter had been sent to x-ray again. Since Birkoff sat at his computer all day, and sometimes all night, he was thought to be at risk for carpal tunnel syndrome. Thus, he has having bilateral hand and wrist films.

Walter had occasionally complained of low back pain so he was having a lumbar spine series. He was found to have some osteoarthritis and slight scoliosis.

"Not as young as I used to be," he commented to Birkoff as they were walking through the halls.

"Maybe not, but you're still sharp up here," Birkoff replied and tapped his forehead.

"Well, thanks amigo. I like to think that I am." Both men laughed heartily.

As they turned the corner, an intimidating voice rang out, "Walter, you stop right there!"

Walter froze in his tracks, a panic-stricken look on his craggy face. He'd know that voice anywhere. Suddenly, he was a ten-year-old boy again at Our Lady of Lourdes school and his teacher, Sister Mary Katherine, was wondering why he had not completed his essay.

"What is it, Walter?" Birkoff was looking at him strangely.

Now Walter realized that the Sister was not talking to him, but to a boy in the group of children by the elevators.

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. Then he quickly crossed himself. "I can't believe the Almighty hasn't called her to her heavenly reward yet. Sister was old as Methuselah when I was in her class and that's been many moons ago."

"Who? That nun?" asked Birkoff.

Walter was peering again at the group. Yes, it was definitely her. The shoulders were bent a little and she used a cane, but she had lost none of her authority.

"Boy, that takes me back. Sister Mary Katherine could put the fear of God in you with just a look."

"Hmm. . .sounds like Michael," laughed Birkoff.

"Even Michael is no match for her," Walter insisted.

"I remember once when I was failing calculus. Sister Mary Katherine called my mother in for a conference and I felt like I was on trial for my life. I think it would have been easier to be captured by the Freedom League or Red Cell."

"So, Walter. . .if you were a good Catholic schoolboy, how did you end up in Section?"

Walter sighed. "That's a story for another day, amigo. Let's see if we can find a different way back to the waiting room."

Michael and Nikita had been sent to EKG and then to have their blood pressure checked.

Michael's blood pressure was slightly elevated, leading the doctor to ask, "Have you been stressed lately? Perhaps you need to relax more."

Nikita's ears pricked up. Memories of the Armel mission came flooding back. Michael had certainly helped her to relax when they posed as a husband and wife in suburbia.

Oh yeah, Michael needs to relax and I'm just the person to help him, she thought. Very deliberately, she crossed her right leg over the left, revealing the top of her hose where it attached to the garter. She looked up to find Michael's eyes riveted on her legs. He quickly glanced away, knowing she had caught him.

No matter where they went today, Michael noticed interns and residents opening staring at Nikita. He did not enjoy other men lusting after his woman. Now they were passing a group of mostly male medical students on their way to the auditorium for a lecture. Quickly, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, causing her to stumble a little.

"Michael, what are you doing?"

"Staking my claim," he whispered in her ear.

"Touché," she answered.

Once more, the operatives from Section One were assembled in the waiting room. Walter had just come back from his eye exam and his eyes were still dilated.

Each person was wondering what had happened to Operations' new suit, but since he was in a foul mood, no one dared ask.

"I believe we are through with all our tests, but the secretary is double-checking the orders. Everyone should wait here until we have confirmation," Madeline said.

Confirmation? She makes everything sound like a mission, thought Nikita. She was enjoying the day, especially making Michael uncomfortable.

Michael, on the other hand, was anxious to get Nikita somewhere private. He didn't know if he could wait until they got back to Section. He wanted her now.

Operations glanced over at Madeline. She was taking a Psychology Today from her attaché. "There's an article about the percentage of POWs who break under interrogation. I may get some ideas from it." She was fairly salivating to get into it.

Operations grunted. He was in no mood for her percentages and probabilities today. He looked around for something to read himself, but all he saw was Ladies Home Journal or Good Housekeeping. He looked at the rest of his group. Birkoff was engrossed in a computer game on his laptop after successfully asking Amanda for a date. Walter was flirting with the receptionist who giggled, "Ooh, I just love your bandana!"

That left Michael and Nikita. They were sitting apart from the rest of the Section One group, having an intimate conversation. Suddenly, Michael reached for Nikita's hand and nodded toward the door.

"Come on. We're healthy enough. There's nothing wrong with us that some down time wouldn't cure."

"But Madeline said. . ."

"Forget Madeline."

They left the waiting room and walked down the hall. Around the corner, they came upon a cleaning woman coming out of a bathroom. Michael pulled his jacket aside just enough to reveal the holstered gun. The woman looked fearful as she stepped back from the door.

"S'il vous plait, Monsieur!" She raised her hands in front of her. Michael kept staring at her until she had backed around the corner.

"Michael, you scared the poor woman half to death."

"At least I didn't cancel her," he replied as he pulled Nikita into the tiny bathroom and quickly locked the door.

"Have you done this before?" Michael asked as he struggled to push up her tight leather skirt.

"What, had sex?" she giggled.

"In a public place, I mean?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. I guess there's a first time for everything," he said as his mouth clamped down on hers. His hands were now sliding under her top toward her soft breasts.

"Do you still wish I'd worn pants today?"

"Quiet! Don't distract me when I'm working," he replied.

Nikita relaxed and gave herself up to Michael's expert hands.

When they returned to the waiting room, Michael had put on his dark glasses and Nikita was smoothing down her hair. Both their faces were flushed. Walter grinned and elbowed Birkoff.

"One guess as to what those two were doing."

"I dunno, what?" Birkoff was about to take out the alien invaders from the third realm and barely glanced up.

"You've got a lot to learn, amigo!" Walter chuckled. "Why, just look at them! Nikita's as pink as that top she's wearing." Now he had Birkoff's attention.

"Oh, you mean. . .do you really think they did it here?" he whispered in amazement.

"Don't think, amigo, know!" Now they saw Michael slide his hand over Nikita's.

Birkoff nodded toward Madeline and Operations. "Think Mom and Dad know?"

"They know alright. They look like a pair of volcanoes about to erupt."

Birkoff laughed. "Yeah, but that's kinda their normal look."

After another thirty minutes, the operatives were released with a clean bill of health. Michael and Nikita were found to be in the best over-all condition since they were the most physically active of the group. Operations was told to avoid seeds, nuts, and popcorn and to put more fiber in his diet. He inwardly groaned at the thought of giving up his macadamia nuts.

Madeline had called Section and the mission van was waiting for them at the front entrance.

Operations looked around at the others as the van pulled into traffic. They appeared to have tolerated, one might even say, enjoyed, their day at St. Bart's. Madeline was writing up a new interrogation plan and was not paying him any attention.

"If I had one of those scopes right now I'd ram it up George's . . ."

"Now, Paul. . . calm down." Madeline patted Operations' knee as if he were an agitated Alzheimer's patient.

"I asked Christopher to have your favorite dish ready when we return."

"Really? Coq au vin?" He paused, savoring the idea. "I can hardly wait."

Madeline shook her head. Honestly, Paul was worse than a two-year-old in the pediatric ward.

Birkoff was chattering about the antiquated computers the hospital had and how they should update them. Walter would occasionally throw out a comment even though he was leaning back with his eyes closed. He was still amazed that Sister Mary Katherine's voice could strike terror in his heart after all these years.

As usual, Michael and Nikita were sitting a little apart from the others. Michael was working on his laptop and Nikita had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. Michael permitted himself a small smile as he remembered their escapade today. They were openly flaunting their relationship and would have to be careful in the future.

The van suddenly jerked to a stop and Operations was struggling to open the heavy door.

Michael reached over and gently squeezed Nikita's leg.

"Ni-ki-ta, wake up. We're back at Section."

She reluctantly opened her eyes and straightened up. "Ooooh. . .so soon? I was having the most wonderful dream. Do you want to hear about it?"

Michael nodded. "Of course."

"We were on my balcony . . ." she paused and ran her tongue over her lips. That always made Michael's body temperature go up several degrees."

"Go on."

"We were. . .you know." She winked seductively at Michael and slid her hand between his legs.

"I see. Weren't the neighbors shocked?" He made no attempt to remove her hand.

"Oh, Michael, it was at night. Only the stars and the moon saw us."

Michael touched her hand and smiled.

Operations finally got the door open and turned to face the group.

"I would like to thank you for your cooperation today. We must set the example for the rest of the Sections." With that, he and Madeline disappeared down into the bowels of Section. Walter and Birkoff followed a few paces behind them.

"Man, I really need some Oreos," Birkoff said. "And I hope Gail remembered to do the backup."

Walter now remembered whom he had left in charge of his area.

"I'm gonna need more than that if Schwartz screwed up my inventory. Sometimes I think that guy's not playing with a full deck."

As Operations and Madeline walked toward the Perch, they were met by Davenport.

"Sir, George is holding for you on line one."

Operations rolled his eyes and sighed. "Great, there goes my coq au vin. I'll join you in a few minutes, Madeline."

Nikita and Michael lingered at Van Access for a few moments after the others had returned to their stations.

"After I check my messages, there's something we have to do," Michael said.

"What do you mean?" Nikita was suddenly worried that the situation in Nairobi had escalated.

Further conversation was delayed as Davenport came up to them.

"Michael, sorry to interrupt. Velasquez was taken to St. Bartholomew's, probable appendicitis. There's no one to teach his class."

"I'll be right there," Michael answered. Once again, he was all business as Section's top operative.

Davenport left and Michael turned back to Nikita.

"I'll catch up with you later and we'll go home."

"Sure. Maybe I'll go work out for a while, too," she answered.

Home. Nikita liked the sound of that. Maybe one day they really would have a home together. But for the present, she would settle for whatever time she could spend with Michael.

Michael smiled slightly, gave her a quick kiss, and went toward the training area.

Ninety minutes later the class was over and Michael had showered and changed back into his black suit. He returned to his office to find Nikita sitting on the edge of his desk. She was absently twirling her hair around her fingers. His immediate impression was of a college girl trying to seduce her professor. He was becoming extremely aroused again.

"I'm hungry," she said. She was imagining hamburgers or a pizza.

He gazed at her for a long moment. "So am I."

Is he thinking of food or something else? Nikita wondered with a smirk.

He took her hand and pulled her off the desk.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they walked through Section. Michael did not respond.

They had reached Systems. No one was around and the area was dimly lit. Without warning, Michael lifted Nikita in his arms and laid her on the briefing table.

"Uh, Michael, you know I was only teasing Birkoff when I said that."

His answer was to pull up her shirt and begin licking and kissing her abdomen. After a moment, he looked up at her.

"Are you sure?"

Nikita squirmed under his soft kisses and grabbed at his hair.

"Oooh. . .Michael! Please, Michael!"

"Please, what? Please continue. . .or please stop?"

"Con . . . tinue," she panted. "But not here!" she quickly added. "Anybody could walk in on us!"

His tongue was now moving upward to her breasts.

"Mi-chael!" she gasped as his tongue outlined a nipple.

"Isn't this your fantasy? For me to make wild, passionate love to you right here in Section?" Michael's voice was a velvet whisper.

As much as she wanted to play out this fantasy, she feared Madeline or Operations surprising them in the act.

"Okay, okay. You've made your point. Let's get out of here," she begged.

Michael slid her top back down and helped her off the table. Hand in hand, they walked out of Section. Davenport saw them leave and smiled to himself. He greatly respected and admired Michael and was glad that he had found an equal in Nikita.

Hurriedly, Michael drove to his apartment. There he and Nikita gave in to all their fantasies, but in much softer and secluded surroundings.

~ Finis ~

2001