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Date Posted: 13:32:31 11/02/01 Fri
Author: lafemme
Subject: Need a beta reader here please

Ok, here goes . . .

I used to have a site at ACMECity and well now it's gone. This is luckily one of my stories that didn't get lost. So, I need two things:

someone to polite find ALL the typos,grammar and such (don't think there are too many but you never know)

and someone to bounce ideas off of to make the story go forward

and someone to keep the character of Nat from being invaded by the spirit of Mary Sue

thanks and happy reading

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[> Chapter 1: Courez -- lafemme, 13:40:02 11/02/01 Fri

1

Today had been much like any other day for Nathalie or Nat as friends had so often called her. She woke up, fixed breakfast, cleaned the apartment, went to the grocery store, came home, put away the groceries, and with all of her daily chores done, she actually found time to sit down and rest. The sound of her body hitting the futon actually felt good.

However, now was not the time to rest, but rather to write. The trouble was, she didn't know what to write. It was three years ago today that Nathalie had quit her job as a teacher and decided to become a writer. Nat had been tooling around with the idea of writing and attempted to write in various formats. She currently wrote what was known as "fanfic" stories and posted her work to various mailing lists and newsgroups on the Internet. The response to her stories was almost always the same. Her writing style intrigued people, and they often encouraged her to take up writing full time.

Nathalie thought, 'What the hell!' and waited until the end of the school year in 1996. She didn't quit outright, but took a leave of absence instead. Nat knew it was a gamble, but she figured she needed to give this 'thing' . . . this writing a try. If she succeeded, then she could smile proudly at her accomplishments. If not, then she could still go back to her school district and accept whatever they gave her. Kneeling at her bed each night, Nat prayed that someone would like her writing enough to publish her.

She'd submitted a couple of story ideas in the past to publishers, agents or anyone that would listen to her. She was turned down every time. Now, time was running out for Nathalie and it was calling to her . . .

School days . . . school days . . . dear old golden rule days . . .

Sighing to herself, Nat decided to take her cure for the "what will happen to me" blues. She picked her keys off of the kitchen table and headed for the movies.

Nat was a real lover of the movies. She'd acquired a rather large collection of videos during the past ten years. People often joked that she could open her own video store with all the movies she had acquired. She loved every type of film, but her favorite was the romance. Hollywood had only recently learned that not all moviegoers were in the 18 to 25 age range. They finally discovered that other patrons such as Nathalie were willing to shell out seven or eight dollars providing the movie was of acceptable quality.

Finding that movie of exceptional caliber proved to be a little more difficult for Nathalie tonight. As she approached the movie theater, she realized that she didn't know what she wanted to see. She then remembered that she had yet to see the film "The Thomas Crown Affair." It sounded like a good movie, even if she didn't remember who the love interest was for the movie. The only one she cared about was Pierce Brosnan. He had that certain quality that sent her heart fluttering each time she saw him on the screen. "Well, 'The Thomas Crown Affair' it is!" Nathalie proclaimed aloud as she walked up to the box office.

About two hours later, Nat concluded that this had been a good cure. She hoped inspiration would strike soon. Nathalie was about to put on her sunglasses when she noticed it was dark outside. Looking at her watch, she then realized it was eight o'clock in the evening! No wonder she'd paid so much for the movie! Nat chuckled to herself and proceeded to her car. While walking to the car, Nat kept a watchful eye out for anything suspicious. Everything was normal. Once she spotted her car, she turned off the alarm and opened the door. As soon as she was inside, she quickly locked the door. "Nothing like being paranoid," she said to herself. Nathalie pulled out of the parking lot and then waited patiently for her turn to enter traffic.

While waiting, Nathalie was startled when she heard a noise near her car door. Turning to her right, she screamed as she saw a man with a gun in his hand.

'Oh my god! This is a carjacking' she thought.

She looked back and saw that there was now a car blocking her only way of escape. Nathalie quickly determined that the best solution was to leave her car. She attempted to unlock her side only, but instead she unlocked the passenger's door! The man quickly opened the door and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"GO!" the man commanded.

Nathalie quickly darted into traffic, almost hitting a truck in the process. "Listen, you can have the car . . . just let me out of here . . . there's not much in my purse . . . but you can you have whatever . . . I . . ." Nathalie was panicking. She didn't know what to do.

Neither did Michael.

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[> [> COMMENTS: Re: Chapter 1: Courez -- Nestra, 11:29:14 11/07/01 Wed

Today had been much like any other day for Nathalie comma or Nat comma as friends had so often called her. Had called her? Do they no longer call her that? She woke up, fixed breakfast, cleaned the apartment, went to the grocery store, came home, put away the groceries, and with all of her daily chores done, she actually found time to sit down and rest. The sound of her body hitting the futon actually felt good.

Aside from that last sentence, the paragraph tells us much more than it shows. First of all, I'd question whether it's necessary to the story. If it is, then I'd like you to show us more about this original character. This doesn't give us any special information about her except her name.

However, now was not the time to rest, but rather to write. The trouble was, she didn't know what to write. It was three years ago today that Nathalie had quit her job as a teacher and decided to become a writer. Nat had been tooling around with the idea of writing and attempted to write in various formats.

I'd suggest trying to rephrase some of those sentences so they aren't so passive. You've got a lot of "was" and "been" and "had", which doesn't give a sentence any impact.

Nat was a real lover of the movies. She'd acquired a rather large collection of videos during the past ten years. People often joked that she could open her own video store with all the movies she had acquired. She loved every type of film, but her favorite was the romance. Hollywood had only recently learned that not all moviegoers were in the 18 to 25 age range. They finally discovered that other patrons such as Nathalie were willing to shell out seven or eight dollars providing the movie was of acceptable quality.

I'm still getting a sense of telling, and this still isn't helping me get to know Nat. She loves movies--how does that tie into what's about to happen?

"Well, 'The Thomas Crown Affair' it is!" Nathalie proclaimed aloud as she walked up to the box office.

Why would she say that out loud?

Nathalie quickly determined that the best solution was to leave her car. She attempted to unlock her side only, but instead she unlocked the passenger's door!

How did she manage to do that? Most cars with power locks unlock all doors at once. And even if she opened all the doors, she could still make a run for it.

Nathalie quickly darted into traffic,

What happened to the car that was blocking her escape?

almost hitting a truck in the process. "Listen, you can have the car . . . just let me out of here . . . there's not much in my purse . . . but you can you have whatever . . . I . . ." Nathalie was panicking. She didn't know what to do.

Nice description of her panic.

Neither did Michael.

This is a POV switch here, since the rest of the chapter is from Nat's POV. I know the effect you're going for, but maybe there's another way to achieve it without switching POVs.

About your Mary Sue concerns: There's a nice Mary Sue reference here, and of course, Shanola wrote a great column on Mary Sue that's up at Briefing in Five Minutes. I do have to say that if you're concerned about Nat being a Mary Sue, I would take out the part about her being a fanfic writer. That almost immediately identifies her as being a stand-in for you, whether she is or not.

Additionally, I haven't seen any point to her being a writer. Maybe that information about her could come out in conversations with Michael or other characters, rather than having it in an expository lump at the beginning of the story.

The grammar's generally very clean, and you do a good job varying your sentence structure.

More later.

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[> Chapter 2: Courez -- lafemme, 13:42:28 11/02/01 Fri

2

Traffic on a Friday evening was actually light for this time of night. Everyone seemed to be going about their business, travelling from one place to another . . . everyone that is, except Nathalie. Her night had just begun and she had no idea when this nightmare would end. To say that she was scared would have been an understatement. Terrified better described her current state of mind. She tried to glance at her unwanted passenger, but was rebuffed with a harsh reminder to "keep her eyes on the road." She didn't even know where she was supposed to drive. Finally after travelling east for fifteen minutes, Nathalie offered a suggestion or rather a question to this frightening stranger.

"Where do you want to go?"

Michael considered the question. His options were limited at the moment. He had gone into mandatory refusal after having his current mission compromised. As it stood, he knew it only would be a matter of time before Section would come after him. Mandatory refusal normally did not necessitate Section's tracking him, but things were different. Michael knew that although he was in mandatory refusal, Section had come to its own and yet quite different conclusion: Michael had turned and now must be eliminated. Operations, along with Madeline concluded that Michael had assassinated a high level contact for Section. If Operations or Madeline got hold of him before he could figure out exactly what had happened, Michael would be interrogated and then reprogrammed. This was not an option that appealed to Michael. He actually preferred death to Operations' or Madeline's tinkering with his mind; his psyche. It was one of his few possessions that he held dearly.

"Do you have a computer?" Michael asked, his attention now focused back to his current problem. He knew there was one person in Section he could trust. It was Nikita. If he could establish a link with Nikita, the he would come closer to solving the problem.

"Y . . .e . . .s . . .I . . . do . . ." Nathalie was startled that the man had actually spoken to her. She asked her question over five minutes ago and he just now gave an answer.

"Drive to your place. Do as I tell you, or I will kill you." He showed her the gun he still held in his good hand. Nathalie was no more than ten minutes from her apartment. She had to reach up to her visor to open the remote controlled gate. The stranger eyed her suspiciously, but decided that nothing was wrong. Luckily or not, her apartment was situated in the rear of the apartment complex, and so the possibility of someone seeing her and coming to her rescue was slim. When she parked her car in its space. Nathalie decided against running. Somehow she felt she would be dead before she reached her front door. Nathalie turned once more and looked and this mysterious stranger. His eyes were closed. It was then that she noticed the blood on his shirt. She wondered how badly he'd been hurt.

Nathalie knew her thinking was irrational by many people's standards, but Nathalie never did things in a logical fashion. She frequently allowed her emotions to rule her thinking. This, more often that not, got her into trouble. Now, the opportunity for a rational response to this situation was presented once more and just as before Nathalie allowed her emotions to rule her behavior. Leaning over to see the severity of the wound, Nathalie was startled when the stranger had placed his gun under her chin. It had been in his lap.

"Don't move," the man commanded. He fumbled but managed to open the passenger door. Backing out of the seat, he motioned for Nathalie to exit the car.

"I won't run," Nathalie offered. The stranger only nodded his head and motioned with his one good hand for her to move ahead of him. Nathalie began walking. Stopping at her front door, she was about to open it, when the stranger spoke.

"Does anyone else live here?" he asked.

"Yes . . ." Nathalie began and then shook her head. No, it's just me and my cat." The stranger now motioned for her to open the door. The moment the door was opened, the alarm sounded.

"Deactivate the alarm," the stranger told her.

"And if I don't?" Nathalie challenged. The stranger cocked the gun in response. Nathalie sighed and complied with his wishes. Once inside, the stranger made a cursory inspection of the apartment. He found no one else inside and so he began an inventory of what needed to be done in the next forty-eight hours. Before he could begin, however, he needed to decide what to do with the young woman.

"Go into the bathroom. Stay inside and no harm will come to you." Michael led the young woman into the bathroom and seeing a pair of pantyhose drying, he quickly used them as a means of tying this woman to a handle on the bathtub. He unplugged the phone and closed the door.

'Great!' Nathalie thought to herself. 'I'm being held hostage in my own bathroom by freakin' weirdo prince charming!'

Thirty minutes later . . .

Somehow, Nathalie had managed to loosen the bond that held her. She now sat quietly in her bathroom, listening for any indication that this man was still in her apartment. While she was scared and terrified, Nathalie also felt a strange sense of exhilaration. This is what I should write about . . . a dark knight turning an otherwise ordinary woman's life upside down . . .

Nathalie shook her head, dismissing the thought from her mind. She refocused on her main priority, which was her escape. Slowly, she opened the bathroom door. She heard nothing. Stepping into the hallway, Nathalie was about to make a break for the door when she heard a noise. She froze for a moment and then curiosity got the better of her. Cautiously she approached her office and gasped at the sight presented before her.

The stranger was slumped over at her computer. Nathalie inched closer, not sure of what would happen next. She noticed that a chat room was operating and that there were two users logged on into a private room. Nathalie watched in morbid fascination as a user, only known by the screen name of "Oreo Ollie" kept repeat a single phrase over and over.

"Michael are you there?"

"Michael are you there?"

"Michael are you there?"

"Are you there?"

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[> [> COMMENTS: Re: Chapter 2: Courez -- Nestra, 11:58:47 11/08/01 Thu

Traffic on a Friday evening was actually light for this time of night. Everyone seemed to be going about their business, travelling from one place to another . . . everyone that is, except Nathalie. Her night had just begun comma and she had no idea when this nightmare would end. To say that she was scared would have been an understatement. Terrified better described her current state of mind. She tried to glance at her unwanted passenger, but was rebuffed with a harsh reminder to "keep her eyes on the road." She didn't even know where she was supposed to drive. Finally after travelling east for fifteen minutes, Nathalie offered a suggestion commaor rather a question commato this frightening stranger.

This paragraph is a good example of showing us her state of mind, instead of just telling us that she's scared, and the contrast with everyone else going about their business is nice.

I'd still suggest rephrasing so your sentences aren't so passive.

Michael considered the question.

This is another POV switch. There's no rule that you have to stick with one POV in a story, but it's usually best if you don't switch very often. When the POV switches from paragraph to paragraph, it can confuse readers.

Operations, along with Madeline comma had concluded that Michael had assassinated a high level contact for Section.

"Do you have a computer?" Michael asked, his attention now focused back to back on his current problem. He knew there was one person in Section he could trust. It was Nikita. If he could establish a link with Nikita, the he would come closer to solving the problem.

The sentence "It was Nikita" is unecessary, and it breaks up the otherwise smooth flow of the paragraph.

"Y . . .e . . .s . . .I . . . do . . ."

I'm not sure exactly what effect you're trying to convey with this, but it's kind of distracting. It might work better if you described the effect in Nat's state of mind instead.

She asked her question over five minutes ago and he just now gave an answer.

She had asked her question over five minutes ago, and he had just now given her an answer.

"Drive to your place.

"place" is kind of slangy for Michael. I think he'd be more likely to say "apartment" or "home".

Nathalie turned once more and looked and looked at this mysterious stranger.

Nathalie knew her thinking was irrational by many people's standards, but Nathalie never did things in a logical fashion. She frequently allowed her emotions to rule her thinking. This, more often that not, got her into trouble. Now, the opportunity for a rational response to this situation was presented once more and just as before Nathalie allowed her emotions to rule her behavior.

More telling instead of showing. You obviously like this character you've created, so why not show us what she's like? There are ways to show that she's more emotional than rational, especially in the situation you've placed her in.

Leaning over to see the severity of the wound, Nathalie was startled when the stranger had delete "had" placed his gun under her chin.

"Yes . . ." Nathalie began and then shook her head. No, it's just me and my cat." The stranger now motioned for her to open the door. The moment the door was opened, the alarm sounded.

Wouldn't an answer like that make Michael suspicious?

"And if I don't?" Nathalie challenged. The stranger cocked the gun in response. Nathalie sighed and complied with his wishes. Once inside, the stranger made a cursory inspection of the apartment. He found no one else inside and so he began an inventory of what needed to be done in the next forty-eight hours. Before he could begin, however, he needed to decide what to do with the young woman.

If you're in Michael's POV here, he wouldn't think of himself as "the stranger".

"Go into the bathroom. Stay inside comma and no harm will come to you." Michael led the young woman into the bathroom comma and seeing a pair of pantyhose drying, he quickly used them as a means of tying this woman to a handle on the bathtub.

The phrase "as a means" isn't necessary, and just clogs up your sentence. You could just as easily say "he quickly used them to tie this woman..."

Thirty minutes later . . .

Instead of this, you could easily incorporate the passage of time into the text, and it wouldn't break up the flow like "thirty minutes later..." does.

"Michael commaare you there?"

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[> Chapter 3: Courez -- lafemme, 13:45:37 11/02/01 Fri

"Michael are you there?"

"Michael?"

"Michael?" The cursor blinked as it waited for a response. None was given. Nathalie broke from her momentary daydream to move closer to Michael. His breathing was shallow and seemed to be getting worse by the minute. Nathalie gently nudged Michael to see if he would move. Nothing happened. She knelt down and picked up the cordless telephone that was on the floor. Nathalie was about to call the police when she heard a sound.

"Please . . . don't . . ." It was the stranger, or rather Michael has Nathalie began to think. He raised his one good hand in a feeble attempt to protest the inevitable problems that calling the authorities would bring. Nathalie looked back at Michael and sighed. Once again, the conflict between logic versus emotions was brewing inside her mind. On the one hand, Nathalie knew that this man had kidnapped her at gunpoint, held her hostage in her own apartment and tied her to off all things her bathtub! Her mind told her to pick up the phone, call the police and get the man out of her life once and for all.

Nathalie's heart told her a different story. It was the complete opposite of what her mind had. When she looked at this man, she saw someone who needed her help. It was true that had had kidnapped her, but Nathalie rationalized that this man simply needed a place to hide. He hadn't hurt her. Oh he'd scared the death out of her, but he hadn't laid a hand on her. Nathalie sighed once more. She was still unsure of what to do at the moment.

Finally, after what must have seemed like an eternity, Nathalie made up her mind or rather decided she would follow her heart. She put the phone on the desk and moved closer to Michael. Kneeling next to him, she placed her hand under his chin and guided his face to hers.

"Do you think you can walk?" she asked.

Michael nodded weakly and attempted to stand. He would have fallen back down again if it weren't for the help of Nathalie. Placing an arm around his waist, she guided her dark stranger, now with the name of Michael, step by step to her bedroom. Once there, she eased him onto the bed. Michael was now sitting on the edge and he didn't look good.

"I'm going to get my first aid kid. It's in the bathroom." Michael nodded his head in agreement. He knew that she could bolt out the door at any moment, but he really had little choice. Michael had to trust this woman, whether he wanted to or not.

"I'm back. Okay, I guess you'd better remove your shirt. Mr. . . ."

"Michael. Call me Michael." Nathalie waited while Michael attempted to remove his shirt. He tried to unfasten the buttons, but it seemed as if every movement cause Michael considerable pain. Nathalie realized what was happening and without asking, she helped Michael finish with the remaining buttons. Once she was done, she slid the shirt off as gently as possible.

The sight of Michael's body both awed and sickened Nathalie. She could tell that this was a person who spent a considerable amount of time keeping in shape. His muscles were taut and smooth throughout his body. He had an almost porcelain like appearance to his skin. This was more in respect to the near perfect condition of his skin, rather than its color.

However, a rather large wound near his lower abdomen marred the beauty of Michael's skin. Nathalie looked closer and realized he had been shot. The blood around the wound had now dried, but it would occasionally ooze fresh blood if Michael moved too much. Nathalie carefully probed the wound, trying not to cause further injury to Michael. Nathalie then frowned. Something wasn't quite right.

Michael could see something was wrong and spoke, "Is there a problem?"

Nathalie hesitated before answering. "I'm not an expert, but when a person is shot, isn't there usually a place where the bullet enters and another where it leaves?"

"Yes," Michael answered, not liking where her questions were leading.

"Well, then I would guess you still have the bullet in you. What do you want me to do?" It was at this point that Nathalie knew she was way out of her league. For some strange reason, she no longer feared Michael, but rather feared for his life. Nathalie was no medical doctor and knew if she tried anything she might cause more harm that good.

Michael also realized the gravity of the situation. He knew this woman was no doctor and yet she was all that he had. Taking in a deep breath, Michael spoke, "Look . . . Miss . . ."

"Nathalie," she replied.

"Nathalie," Michael continued. "You're going to have to remove the bullet."

Nathalie panicked as she backed away from Michael. "No, I can't . . . I might kill you . . . I've never even . . ." Nathalie was clearly nervous about the prospect of playing surgeon.

Michael had neither the time nor the patience to deal with this. "Nathalie, STOP! You can do this. I'll guide you through as best I can. Don't worry. OK?" Michael hoped she would agree since he was becoming weaker by the moment. He looked into her eyes and saw as she nodded her head in agreement.

Michael broke the procedure down into three basic steps: disinfect, remove and clean up. For step number one, Nathalie looked in her first aid kit and found some iodine. She knew it would sting like hell, but it would get the job done. Nathalie eased Michael back onto the bed. She sat down next to him and poured some of the iodine onto a cloth. Having saturated the cloth, Nathalie began to clean around the entry wound. She looked at Michael to see if he was feeling any discomfort, but his face betrayed nothing. It was the small spasms that ran through his chest that gave Michael away.

Step two called for Nathalie to remove the bullet lodged in Michael's abdomen. She found a pair of tongs in her kitchen. Prior to using the iodine, Nathalie had placed the tongs over a candle flame in order to somewhat sterilize them. Michael's last request proved to be the most difficult for Nat. Michael told her to secure his arms and legs so that he would not move during the "operation" and therefore cause more damage. Nathalie reluctantly agreed. Taking some twine she'd found in her kitchen, she secured Michael's legs first. Following that, Nathalie tied Michael's one good hand to the side of the headboard and now all that remained was the other hand. Carefully, she lifted the hand so as not to cause Michael more pain.

Nathalie was ready to work. Before beginning her "operation" as Nathalie had come to think of it, she gave Michael a washcloth and told him to bite down. Now it was time and no matter what Michael did, he could not deny the pain that was to come.

Using the light from above, and a small penlight for added focus, Nathalie probed as best she could, looking for the bullet.

"Damn!" Nathalie muttered to herself. "It's like looking for a needle in a bloody haystack." Just as Nathalie was about to give up hope, she spotted something shiny. Directing the penlight in that direction, she now knew she'd found the bullet.

Nathalie turned to where she had left the tongs. Grabbing them, she started to dig into the wound. She flinched a little when she saw a look of anguish cross Michael's face. As soon as Nathalie was able to grab hold of the bullet, she began to work on extracting it. When it was out, she allowed it to fall to the floor.

Nathalie finished her procedure by placing a pressure bandage over the wound. Michael smiled weakly, indicating she'd done a good job. Nathalie nodded in return as she released his arms and legs. Once that was done, Michael closed his eyes and allowed the darkness, which had been hovering over him before, to claim him. Nathalie watched as Michael slept. He seemed so . . . peaceful.

She was distracted when she heard a noise from her office. Taking a small afghan from a nearby chair, Nathalie placed the cover on Michael's sleeping form. She then proceeded to her office, where she found the computer was still on and the chat room was open. There was no one there, but there was a final message. It read:

Michael, do not return. Operation has issued orders to cancel you. He does not acknowledge your mandatory refusal.

Nathalie wasn't sure what "cancelled" meant, but somehow, she knew she didn't want to know.

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[> Chapter 4: Courez -- lafemme, 13:48:26 11/02/01 Fri

As Michael slept, he dreamed. It all seemed too real once more. He was to meet a contact for Section. The gentleman was only known as Guy. Guy was to provide intel on an upcoming act of terrorism being carried out once more by Helix. It was a simple plan.

It turned out to be a set up. When Michael arrived at the rendezvous point, he remembered seeing the contact dead. The weapon used was identical to Michael's. As Michael left the building, he was ambushed. He'd managed to take out two men before being hit.

His attackers, assuming that they had completed their assignment, did not plan for Michael's incredible strength or Section training. He waited until they were in sight and then he killed both of them, firing a bullet into each one's head.

Having dispatched his would be attackers, Michael sat up and was hit by an instant wave of nausea and pain. It was becoming more intense with each passing moment. It as at this time that . . .

. . . Michael awoke. Slowly, the events of the previous night were coming back to him. There were still moments where he couldn't recall every detail from the past twenty-four hours.

He opened his eyes and attempted to sit upright. Remembering where he was, he immediately scanned the room to see if Nathalie was nearby. Seeing that she wasn't there and fearing that she might have gone, Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed. Another wave of nausea much like the night before overtook him. Just as he was about to stand up, Nathalie entered the room.

"Just where do you think you're going?" she asked, the displeasure showing in her voice. Michael shrugged his shoulders in response and Nathalie simply shook her head.

"You need your rest. I just finished removing a bullet from you and I'll be damned if I'll let you undo my work." Nathalie pushed Michael back against the pillows, forcing him to rest.

"Nathalie . . ." Michael began.

"Shhh . . ." she responded, placing a finger to his lips.

Michael closed his eyes and allowed his body to rest. He needed the time, what little he had, to think and to plan. The first thing that crossed his mind was Nathalie. Michael had not counted on taking a hostage, who actually turned out to be very valuable. This in turn, caused Michael to consider two possibilities. Nathalie was either a plant for Section or she was simply an innocent.

Neither option appealed to Michael. If she were working for Section, he'd have no choice but to eliminate her. If she was an innocent, well that presented a whole new set of problems. At the moment, this whole scenario seemed to be a game to Nathalie. Michael was worried that if things got bad, she might get hurt.

At Section . . .

Madeline and Operations spent much of the morning and most of the afternoon going through the various reports and checking on the progress of current missions. The last thing on their agenda was a matter concerning Michael.

"So, where do we stand on our current situation regarding Michael?" Operations began.

Madeline sipped her tea. "Everything is going as expected. We should be able to bring down Helix in a matter of ten days."

"Wasn't Helix destroyed the last time we encountered them?" Operations asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Most of it. This current branch is an offspring of the main one we eliminated approximately eighteen months ago." Madeline also loved playing mind games with Operations. It helped her to stay focused on the day to day operations of Section.

"Excellent! Will there be any losses?" Operations asked.

"It's difficult to say at this point. We've put everything into play. There is a small anomaly that we should be able to control," Madeline replied.

"Should be?" Operations questioned, his one eyebrow arching slightly in surprise.

"Yes. She will work out perfectly."

"Good."

Both continued to sip their tea.

Michael awoke to the feel of someone's hands touching his chest. Grabbing the offending hand, Michael opened his eyes. Nathalie jerked back in terror.

"I'm sorry . . . I was just changing you bandage. I didn't mean
to . . ."

Once Michael realized what was happening, he released his grip on Nathalie. She in turn stared back into his eyes. Nat broke the momentary pause.

"I just wanted to see if you were ok."

"Better," Michael answered.

"Well, get some rest and I'll check on you in a little bit," Nathalie responded as she rose from the bed.

Michael laid back and closed his eyes. His normal reserve of strength was virtually nonexistent. He knew the only way to recover was to rest. The problem was, he didn't know how much time had to rest.

One problem at a time, Michael reminded himself.

Three hours later, Michael opened his eyes once more, this time feeling much better. He knew he wasn't at his normal strength, but at least he could move if needed. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, a slight wave of nausea hitting him. Michael steadied himself and rose from the bed.

Walking to the kitchen, Michael was surprised when he didn't see Nathalie anywhere in the apartment. His Section training immediately took effect. Michael quickly scanned the apartment and could not find Nathalie anywhere. He then noticed a small piece of paper taped to the front door. It read, "Michael, I went to the store. I'll be back in thirty minutes. Please rest. Nathalie."

Taking the paper in hand, Michael found a candle. It was one of those that gave off a fragrant aroma. Still it would do for what Michael had in mind. He placed the note over the candle and watched as the paper caught fire and disintegrated before his eyes. It was better to cover all traces of his existence so that Section would not have any reason to send "housekeeping" over to Nathalie's apartment.

Michael's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He looked outside and saw that it was a postman with a package for delivery.

"She's not here right now," Michael offered, hoping the man would go away.

"You can sign for it," the postman responded.

Michael hid his irritation with yet another question. "Can't you just leave it on the doorstep?"

"Nope, someone's going to have to sign for it. Come on, I haven't got all day."

Reluctantly Michael opened the door. "Where do I need to sign?" he asked.

"Right here," the postman indicated, point to an "x" on a form. Michael attempted to write a name, but the pen wouldn't work.

"Do you have another one?" he asked.

The postman padded his coat, indicating this pen was his last one. Michael sighed in response. "I'll see if she's got a pen. Wait here."

The postman did not wait. He followed Michael inside. He had a gun. He was about to fire one shot to the back of Michael's head when he was caught off guard by a roundhouse kick to his chest. It came from of all people, Michael.

Michael realized about five seconds ago, that this postman must be from Section. He also knew this guy had to come from abeyance. He would have almost fooled Michael if it had not been for his bright shiny new shoes. Someone in wardrobe would pay for his mistake later.

Focusing his attention back on the attacker Michael now saw that his kick had knocked the gun from his hand. It now lay on the floor between both of them. It was almost like a stalemate. When the attacker went for the gun, Michael responded. The same occurred when Michael attempted to retrieve the weapon for himself.

Just then, both focused their attention as they heard the sound of the door opening. That was all the time that Michael needed. Moving like a cheetah, Michael reached for and grabbed hold of the gun. Before the attacker would react, he found he now had two bullet holes in his throat. He collapsed to the floor instantly.

Michael's small moment of victory was interrupted by Nathalie's voice. She was screaming. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" Michael quickly shut the door and grabbed hold of Nathalie.

"Nathalie . . ." he began, trying to calm her.

"OH MY GOD!" she repeated once more.

"Nathalie, please . . ." Michael was actually beginning to lose his patience.

"OH MY GOD!" Nathalie continued repeating.

"NATHALIE!" Michael shouted. She now focused her eyes on Michael and fainted into his arms.

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