"He will care, Kita. He'll care very much." Michael sounded so certain. Nikita wanted to know why.

"Madeline and Operations don't have a personal relationship, Michael. He's got nothing invested in her. She's completely replaceable."

Michael laughed harshly. "You're wrong on all three counts, Kita."

"But you told me that they weren't lovers!" Nikita protested.

"I lied." At her gasp of surprise, Michael blinked. "I've lied to you so often and so well, Kita. How can you be still be surprised?"

Nikita flushed. She would have walked away then, but Michael held onto her, his grip tightening as he felt her try to move. "Please…I didn't mean to hurt you, Kita. I swear. At the time, the lie…really didn't matter."

Nikita gazed intently into Michael's eyes, eyes that warmed significantly, and perhaps meaningfully, whenever they caught sight of her. "And now it does?"

"Yes," he commented tersely. Glancing quickly at their considerable audience, he turned back to Nikita, pulling her into a rather intense embrace that telegraphed his feelings without saying a word. His hand reached out to stroke her face, his fingers splayed along her jawline. Kissing her lightly but with such tenderness that she ached right down to her toes, Michael drew back slightly, whispering, "I love you." Still. That was the unspoken word hanging in the balance between them.

Even though she could not remember the feelings they shared with any degree of accuracy, she knew he spoke the truth. She felt it deep within her being.

"We will be together. When this is over." It was a vow of such certitude, Nikita felt constrained to respond.

"When this is over…will I love you again?" she whispered, hoping the answer was yes. She wanted to belong to this oddly compelling man with the enigmatic looks and the changeable eyes.

"Yes."

She kissed him. She could see that he was moved. Something shifted within his eyes. His face remained a careful mask of daunting proportions, but his eyes gave him away.

Walter coughed politely. "I hate to interrupt, but the Queen is going to awake in oh, about five minutes. Any requests for her brand-new personality?"

Michael smiled faintly. "The old one should suffice. But without her memory of Operations, she might seem like a totally different person."

"I don't care if she has as many personalities as Sibyl, I don't like any of 'em, quipped Walter irascibly.

Birkoff pulled out a CD. "We'd better get started re-programming her then. We don't have much time."

An hour later, Nikita looked at the result of all their planning and hard work and grinned despite her former misgivings.

"Wait till he gets a load of her."

When Madeline awoke, her first words were, "Where in the blue blazes am I?" All available eyes and ears were glued to her. Watching. Waiting. To see if she was any different. To calculate the possible effect of her transformation on Operations.

Michael looked at her, his eyes and face reflecting none of the very real anxiety he felt. There was so much riding on this. It wasn't just about vengeance. This was theft. Of the most personal kind. Madeline and Operations could deny that they had a personal relationship, but Michael knew better. Her bond with Operations went back a long way, having its roots in the very birth of Section. Destroying such an intrinsic part of her would alter her in ways they could not even begin to imagine. What Operations would do as a result remained to be seen.

Birkoff spoke to someone via com link and turned to Michael. "Operations knows that Madeline is missing. We've fed him the location. He should be here in less than an hour."

"Good," Michael said tersely.

Madeline stared at Michael blankly. Blindly. "Who are you?"

Michael looked puzzled. He glanced at Walter and Birkoff. Walter shrugged. "Limbic suppressors can be unpredictable. We wanted to erase her relationship with Operations, but it looks like she doesn't remember the rest of us at Section either."

Birkoff chirped happily, "That sounds like a good thing to me. She can't identify anyone who did this to her."

Walter growled, "You're assuming that she's going to remember that she was altered."

Birkoff frowned. "Why not? Nikita did."

Walter sighed. "No two people react alike, Birkoff. We're writing this as we go. We're turning pages with absolutely no idea how the book is going to turn out."

Birkoff blinked. "Sheesh."

Michael put his arm around Nikita. "So we wait."

Nikita nodded. "We wait."

Operations was not happy with the treatment he was receiving at the hands of the insurrectionists. Brushing down his sleeve, he glared angrily at the pair of field ops who escorted him inside Genofex.

"Why was Madeline brought here?" he shouted, his voice literally echoing throughout the warehouse.

"Why do you think?" said a disembodied voice from the shadows.

Operations stalked towards the source of the voice. "I demand answers, dammit!"

Michael stepped out of the shadows, inches away from Operations. "You're not in a position to demand anything," he said quietly.

"I'll have you canceled."

"You've been threatening me with that for the past several months. Either do it…" Michael moved in on Operations, so close that Operations could count his eyelashes. "Or get over it," he said in a chilled tone that made Operations regret leaving Section.

"Where's Madeline?" Operations asked in a considerably more polite voice.

"You'll see soon enough," Michael said tersely.

As soon as Operations saw Madeline, he moved to rush towards her. Michael grabbed one arm, Nikita the other, effectively preventing him from approaching Madeline. "I want to see if she's all right!" Operations shrieked in a manner most unbecoming a senior operative, much less an administrator.

"I thought the two of you didn't share such pedestrian emotions as love…or friendship…or affection…" said Michael.

"We don't. We're beyond that. We function on a whole other level. Something you and *her*," he emphasized, looking daggers at Nikita, "would know nothing about."

Michael nodded imperceptibly. "Then you would have no objection to us, say, removing her from the equation."

Operations smirked. "You didn't bring me here to cancel her. You need her."

Nikita stepped forward, her face a mask of innocence. "Actually, no. We don't need her at all."

Operations shook his head. "She's your only hope of ever returning to normal, Nikita. You might not care about that, but I imagine Michael does." He glanced at his senior field op, but he could discern no visible reaction.

Michael released Operations' arm, indicating that Nikita do the same, allowing the older man to go to Madeline at last. For all his talk of not caring about Madeline, the man who ruled Section One looked almost tearful as he contemplated what damage might have been done to her.

"Maddy? Are you all right?" he asked, his blue eyes searching her bittersweet chocolate eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" she declared.

Operations roared with the fury of a man scorned. "Who did this to her? I'll have all of you canceled! One by one! Someone is going to talk! Sooner or later! I want the one responsible! I—"

But his furious diatribe was cut short by the launching of a flood of invective. From a very unlikely source. Madeline.

"Just who the freak is this imperious bastard?"

Operations glared at the one woman he considered to be his equal. "What did you say?"

"I said, who the freak are you, you imperious bastard?" She grinned, quite uncharacteristically for Madeline.

"Why, you—"

"Oops, made you slip your leash, didn't I?" Madeline giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth. Another totally uncharacteristic gesture for her.

"What did you do to her?" Operations demanded of Michael.

Michael merely blinked, his face arranged in a careful mask. "What did you do to Nikita?"

"I asked you first!" Operations flushed bright red, and Walter began to wonder about the old man's blood pressure.

Michael almost smiled. It was both inappropriate and chilling. "Not much fun being out of the loop, is it, Paul?"

"Don't call me that, you insubordinate son-of-a-bitch! Just remember who you work for!"

"Oh, I know exactly who I'm working for now…and it isn't you," Michael replied quietly, drawling out the last three words.

Madeline chortled merrily. "Guess he told you!"

Operations slapped Madeline, hard, across the face. She stared at him in stunned disbelief for a long moment. Then she attacked. Raking her well-manicured fingernails across his cheek, she drew blood. Pausing only to lick her fingers, as if she savored the bloodlust unleashed in her, she smiled, showing her sharp white teeth.

Operations held a hand to his injured cheek, his eyes looking curiously wounded as well. This was a woman he had once…loved.

He turned to face Michael again, a glimmer of some more sympathetic emotion in his frosty blue eyes. But the eyes that looked back at him were chips of pale green ice.

"Paul? She doesn't love you anymore."

The man who was once Operations winced at Michael's deliberate choice of words calculated to do the most damage.

Michael leaned so close to Operations, he could feel the younger man's breath on his face. "Get over it."

Michael turned to the others. "Prep her. You might need to use restraints."

Operations blinked in surprise. "Do you really need to do that?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "She does seem a bit labile. But medication should help you deal with it."

Operations grunted non-verbally. "Help *me* deal with it?"

Michael nodded. "Yes," he said tersely. "We're giving her back to you."

"Why the hell would I want that bitch anywhere near me again?"

Walter laughed delightedly. "Well, it's a little late for Christmas, but consider it a present. From all of us."

Walter smirked as he moved even closer to Operations, who tried desperately to avert his face. Operations hated losing. He especially hated losing in front of his operatives. Or people he disliked intensely. Actually, they were often the same thing.

"Oh, and Paul? When I was putting her under…she gave me a message for you." The Munitions chief grinned unrepentantly.

"She said, just in case she forgot…she's not your whore or your whipping post."

It was the very best of times. It was the very worst of times. Operations was developing a taste for Dickens.

He had Madeline transported directly to Medlab while she was still sedated. He had no idea what he was going to do with her in her present condition. He had a feeling that when she woke up, there would be all hell to pay.

As for Michael and Nikita, as well as the others, Operations was forced to give all of them a free pass back into One. One was still vulnerable to the scrutiny of Oversight, and as long as that continued, Operations couldn't afford *not* to yield to blackmail and extortion. Michael was, in every way that counted, his true successor.

But for the moment, Operations was content to let them go, let them think they were free, even within Section. His first priority was finding a way to deal with Madeline.

When Madeline woke up, she looked like a changed woman. Operations was at the bedside when she came to. "How are you feeling?" he asked, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

It never came. Madeline grew tearful, her near-black eyes misting with long-forgotten emotions. "I struck you," she said with something akin to horror, noting the barely-healed scratches across his cheek.

Operations shrugged. "It's nothing. You…" He thought for a moment. "You weren't feeling like yourself."

"Who are you? What do you do here? I know I must belong here…but I'm afraid I don't remember what my job is."

Operations found her forgetfulness and her confusion somewhat touching. It gave her back a vulnerability she had jettisoned long ago. "I'm Paul," he replied, finding himself suddenly shy in a way he had never been before.

She smiled. It was like the sun coming out after the rain. Just for him. "That's a nice name. Who am I?"

"You don't—? Never mind. Your name is Madeline."

"Am I your assistant?" she asked almost meekly.

He nearly smiled at that. Such an ingenuous comment coming from those lips.

"No, no, you're…much more than that."

"I am?" Her entire face lit up. "Are we…married?" She looked so hopeful, it was all he could do not to tell her the truth.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he answered, hoping God wouldn't strike him down.

She blushed. Now that was something he had never seen Madeline do. Ever. "Are we…involved?"

His eyes burned bright blue as a wicked grin curved his mouth.

"Oh, yes."

Madeline's tongue peeked out from between her perfectly made-up lips. Suddenly Operations found himself in a state of unbearable arousal. With Madeline this acquiescent, he saw no reason not to take advantage of the situation.

He caressed her arm lightly, and he felt her tremble. Of course, being a man of daunting ego, it never occurred to him that what he was sensing was not sexual excitement.

He touched her cheek, and he watched her eyes grow so impossibly dark, her pupils disappeared. Again, he mistook her reaction for one of a more sensual nature.

He was right about one thing. Something was being activated within her. But if he had the power to look into the future, he would not have done what he did next.

With a wave of his hand, he banished everyone from Medlab but himself and Madeline. He wouldn't even take the slightest chance that her mood might be disturbed enroute to the bedroom.

That was a big mistake.

He literally sent all available help away. Leaving himself at the mercy of a madwoman.

Madeline's lips parted, as if to speak. Operations bent his head over her, seeking a kiss. When their lips met, it was like a forest fire burning wildly out of control. For both of them.

But someone could have told Operations about the fine line between love and hate. He was foolish enough to assume that Madeline was merely amnesiac. What little devil had led him to assume that Madeline had not been re-programmed? And in a boldly provocative way?

She bit down, hard, on his lower lip, drawing blood. Operations drew back, shouting. "What the hell—?"

She licked her lips, now coated with some of Operations' blood. A mysterious Mona Lisa-like smile on her face, Madeline let the bloodlust take over. "Come here."

"N-n-n-no," he stammered uncharacteristically, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what she was programmed to do.

"You'll do as I say, you putrescent piece of worm fodder."

"Madeline!" he shouted involuntarily. She had never been a violent person. Well, okay, she shot people from time to time in the line of duty, but off-duty, she never indulged in that sort of thing.

But now, he had the distinct sense of having been lured to his doom.