La Femme Nikita

Title: Being at Home with Exx and Wye 

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean 

Fandom: La Femme Nikita 

Pairing: Exx/Wye 

Rating: NC-17 

Disclaimer: They still belong to Fireworks and the WB. And I’m not happy about it. Come to think of it, I don’t think they are either. 

Status: new/complete 

Date: 6/00 

Series/Sequel: The conclusion of the Torture Twins Trilogy. 

Summary: The fallout is still--- falling after Wye’s incarceration by Three.  

Warnings: m/f, m/m, implied f/f, autoeroticism, use of toys. Parts of this are rude, crude and lewd! AU, violence, spoilers for Season 4 

Notes: This was for Silk. If the beginning seems familiar, see the Roy Dupuis (Michael) movie, Being at Home with Claude. Special guest appearance by a certain special agent of the DSD was for Gail.          

Being at Home With Exx and Wye

Part 1 

The scrap of green  couldn't really be classified as a park; it was too small. Containing a couple of swings and a sandbox and some benches, it was just one of many such spots scattered in the midst of the bustling city. 

During the day it belonged to the locals. In the cool hours of the morning, young women, scarcely more than children themselves, would desultorily push their toddlers on the swings or brush them off as they fell in the sandbox. 

In the warmth of the afternoon sun, the benches around the perimeter were occupied by the older inhabitants of the neighborhood. They no longer had anywhere to go or anything to do when they got there. They'd sit, alone or in pairs, and doze in the dappled light, or stare at the facades of the buildings across the way. Or talk longingly of days long past. Of women they'd never loved; of experiences they'd never had. 

But in the early evening, the little patch of land was taken over by the disenchanted: the druggies who hoped to cop a score, the hookers looking to make enough money to pay their rent, and the kids who just wanted to show the adults in their lives what Satan’s spawns they were. 

As the shadows grew longer, the predators of the night came filtering in. A lone woman remained from the afternoon hours, continuing to keep her solitary vigil on a bench that was covered with initials and gang symbols. 

It was Friday evening. She was contained, as always, sitting on the back of the bench, her elbows resting lightly on her knees. Dressed in snug black jeans, a cascade of fringe swung jauntily from just above the curve of her calf. A black leather vest opened over a long-sleeved silk shirt of the same color. The french cuffs were unfastened and rolled slightly back, revealing the delicate bones of her wrists  

With restless eyes she scanned the area, regarding the activity surrounding her with disinterest. 

The one she waited for was not there. 

From a distance she looked so innocuous that hookers, female as well as male, approached her, thinking to find an easy mark. 

But a single glance from those fathomless blue eyes shielded by the tinted lenses she wore caused them to change their minds. Coming to the conclusion that it would be healthier to find a meal ticket elsewhere, they faded into the deepening shadows of the night. 

The dealers were smarter. They went nowhere near her, knowing straight off that here was trouble on the hoof. They knew she wasn't safe, although they couldn’t tell how they knew. 

Call it some sixth sense. Call it animal instinct. Call it some errant brain cell that hadn’t yet been fried. Whatever it was, they left her strictly alone. 

A noisy crowd of teenagers ran past her, kicking up sand and hopping on the swings, shouting and singing off key. Some were high, some were wasted, some were bombed out of what little minds they had. They all were boisterous, and looking for trouble. 

They quieted suddenly. The figure entering the square did not appear to have an aura of danger surrounding him. Of average height, dressed in somber black, he seemed harmless to them. Better still, he seemed... helpless. 

Although there were other benches that were not occupied, the man chose the one where the woman sat, apparently unaware of his approach. And although there was a good deal of space on the bench, he sat so close  to her leg that her fringe brushed against his thigh. 

Fighting an overpowering urge, the other occupant of the bench curled his fingers into a fist, the nails biting into his palm in an effort to prevent himself from reaching out and touching the strips of leather. 

To no avail. Helpless to resist, he wound the fringe around his pinkie, tugging gently. Then he  released the decoration, only to repeat the process, bringing it, this time, to his lips, breathing in the scent of leather, rubbing it across his mouth. 

His heart rate accelerated, his breathing grew ragged and he moaned, so softly only the woman at his side heard him. 

Never once glancing his way, she unfolded her diminutive height and rose to her feet, then stepped down from the seat of the bench. Her easy stride took her around it, circling the figure who sat there, but not looking at him. She walked to the entrance of the square and paused, her back to him. 

Waiting. 

Passion fizzed along his nerve endings, constricting his breathing. Drunk on the feeling of  excitement, he surged to his feet, almost stumbling in his haste to reach her side. 

The adolescents, scenting fresh prey, descended on the couple, hooting raucously. Surrounding the man and the woman, they took turns darting in close to them and then dancing away. 

The man extended his left arm, and snapped his right wrist. The woman did the same. With a swift, practiced movement, they linked the knuckle dusters they were never without, and then each faced a part of the mob that was challenging them. 

In their hands, as if by some miracle, were knives that had been honed to a sharpness that could split a hair dropped onto its edge. And the teens suddenly found themselves facing skilled adversaries who were quite willing to take on the lot of them. 

This was not a whore allowing a john to pick her up. This was not a john looking for a quick release. 

Abruptly, the game was no longer fun. The youths scattered and disappeared into the night. 

And just that fast, the brass knuckles were disengaged and the knives retracted into their arm sheathes. 

And the two interrogation operatives walked away from the square, heading for the boulevard where a cab could be found. 

Part 2 

Exx stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and placed two fingers to her mouth. A piercing whistle shattered the night air, and a taxi separated from the traffic in the center of the street, pulling up  to the curb with a jerk. Before the female torture operative could get a grip on the door handle and open it, the cab began to waver. The activity in the backdrop also rippled and shimmered, and then seemed to melt. 

In the blink of an eye, the Parisian street scene vanished and the drab walls that housed Section’s hologram training level were revealed. 

Wye did not say a word. 

Exx spun on her heel. “I don’t freaking believe this!” she snarled, searching the gloom for the operative who was running the R&R holo. “Fredo, you’re breaking my heart! I *know* you’re around here somewhere! Get your ass over here *now*!” 

“He’s not available, I’m afraid.” The voice was cool and controlled. 

Exx swore softly under her breath. “Madeline!” 

“Yes.” 

“Why have you interrupted our holiday?” 

The head of Section smiled, although it never reached her eyes. Involuntarily, Wye shivered. The temperature of the topmost level of Section felt as if it dropped a couple of dozen degrees. 

The female torture operative was not intimidated. “You promised us the entire weekend. Why did you call us back?” 

“I have a new batch of trainees for you to look over.” 

“And this couldn’t have waited until Monday?” 

“No.” 

Madeline hadn’t gotten to where she was in the Section hierarchy without learning where all the bodies were buried. And not without having buried a few herself. Even Exx knew when to give way gracefully. Reluctantly she backed down. 

“Have I time to change?” 

The psych op examined the clothing her premier torture operative was wearing with interest. “No. I need you to look over this material immediately. I’m giving you first choice. If they are unsuitable for your use, I will try the other departments.” 

Wye knew better than to reveal how amusing he found the entire situation. If the two women he was with ever discovered how diverting he thought this entire scene, what the head of Section *might* do to him would be nothing compared to what his mentor *would* do. He studied the ceiling as if he had never seen anything quite so fascinating in his entire life. 

Exx didn’t bother to continue fuming. She curled her lip at the head of Section, then snapped her fingers and headed for the bank of lifts that would take them down to the ground floor. That level contained holding, where all new recruits were kept until Section could decide if they held any promise. 

The five inch heels of her ankle boots sounded like staccato machine gun fire on the concrete floor. She slammed her hand against the panel, summoning the lift. Wye could hear her muttering under her breath, but he could not make out the words. 

Just as well, he sighed. When Exx was on a tear, you did *not* want to draw her attention. Even at this point in their relationship, he did not feel comfortable enough  to cross her. 

The head of interrogations strode through the doors of the lift and punched the button to the first level. As the doors slid together, shutting out Madeline’s view of them, Wye turned to his mentor and gently stroked a finger along her cheek. “It’s not important,” he said softly. “We’ll have tonight and the rest of the weekend.” 

Exx looked at him sourly. “You really believe that? Wish I could. Madeline has something up her sleeve. Appearing before recruits dressed in civilian attire will interfere with their image of me. They won’t take me seriously and I’ll have to waste time getting their attention. You can write ‘paid’ to any plans we had. Unless the recruits she has lined up for me to examine are a total wash out, I’m going to be tied up for the next few days.” 

“That’s too... bad,” Wye murmured as he wound a short strand of blond hair around his finger. “*I’d* like to be the one to tie you up!” 

Exx’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and her material took advantage of it to slant his lips over hers. Licking the smooth tissue that lined her mouth, he swallowed the soft moan his kiss elicited. When he drew back, there was a faint flush on her normally pale cheeks. 

And they were on the first level. 

“It’s showtime, sweetness!” He stepped to her side as the doors opened. 

Exx let out a quiet breath and began walking toward holding. As Wye prepared to follow her, he was just barely able to hear her words. 

“We’ll just see about who ties up whom!” 

**** 

Holding was crowded with recruits. They milled around aimlessly. Exx stopped so abruptly she rocked on the precarious heels she wore. “What did Madeline do, knock off a reformatory?” 

The occupants of the room were all young, in their middle to late teens. Exx was not happy. Recruits of that age never trained well in interrogations. They were either too squeamish about the pain they would need to inflict, or they were out and out psychopaths who enjoyed hurting anything living, just for the pleasure they got from it. 

The young men whistled and stomped their heavily shod feet as they caught sight of the diminutive woman watching them, her lips thinned in a narrow, disapproving line. 

The young women stood, as a group, with their arms folded across their chests, a hip rolled forward insolently, sullen sneers on every last face. 

A frown marred the smooth line of Exx’s brow. She began to examine the crop cursorily, ready to start the weeding out process. 

The head of interrogations ignored the fact that Madeline had no one in holding to guard the back of her primary torture operative. After all, Wye was there. 

She never realized that when the attack came, he would be the focus. 

Part 3   

Wye was scanning the motley crew that milled in holding, keeping an eye on his mentor's back when he suddenly felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand stiffly. Someone was coming up behind him, he could sense it. Before he could confront whoever was approaching him, a male hand reached over his shoulder and slid inside his suit jacket, finding and stroking a  flat nipple. 

"Do you like that, little one?" Lips nuzzled the side of his throat. 

For one pitch black moment, he froze, cast back in time, again a young boy helpless to protect his physical integrity. Blood drained from his head so quickly he thought he would faint. 

The voice continued to whisper obscenely in his ear, describing all the unspeakable things that were going to happen to him, assuring him how much he would enjoy them. 

Laughter, at first muffled, and then quite frank, alerted Exx to the fact that something was going on behind her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she was  infuriated to find her trainee being publicly fondled by a stranger, somewhat older than the teenagers who were egging him on. 

"Make him beg for it, man! Make him take it on his knees!" one of the recruits catcalled.

She knew something of Wye's younger days in that other place, and she knew that what was being done to him at this moment would leave him devastated. Exx would not permit *anyone* to harm her associate. 

The head interrogation operative took a step toward her trainee. Her movement seemed to break through the trance in which he had been trapped. Wye's dark eyes focused on her blue ones, a world of pain revealed in them. But before she could interfere, her counterpart bent his right wrist forward at an awkward angle. Only she seemed aware of what he was doing. A tight smile twisted her lips and she settled back to watch. 

"I guess hell is coming to dinner!” she laughed to herself. Aloud she said, “You want to get this finished up sometime soon, Wye? I could use a bite to eat." 

Wye's reaction was too fast to track. The long, slender blade he wore strapped to his forearm slid into his palm and he spun out of the embrace of the man who was standing much too close to him. The male torture operative's left hand seized the collar of the white shirt, twisting it like a garrote. His right hand was hovering somewhere below the other's waist. 

"You very fond of these?" he asked idly, nudging the knife against the vee of his antagonist's legs. 

With Wye increasing the pressure against his larynx, it was difficult for the other man to see past the obstacle of the torture operative's hand. His eyes widened to a ludicrous degree; he was stunned to find an extremely sharp, thin blade poised in front of his genitals. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled helplessly for breath. 

"It's really simple," Wye remarked, bringing the other's attention back to his options. "You either nod your head yes or shake it no. If you don't want your little friends anymore, I don't have a problem relieving you of them. And considering how close you were standing to me, I know whereof I speak when I say 'little'." 

Exx strolled over to where the two men stood. "Friend of yours Wye?" 

Her counterpart shook his head. "I can't recall seeing him around the hallowed halls of Section. Do you know him?" 

The head of interrogation shoved the stranger's head back sharply. "Who are you? And more important, who gave you permission to put your hands on my material?" 

Wye suddenly found himself holding a dead weight as the man lost his battle to breathe around his opponent’s fist and slumped into unconsciousness. He released his hold and let him fall to the floor. 

"Anyone here know who this clown is?" Exx asked as she nudged the body fastidiously with her toe. The silence was so thick she could have carved it like a Thanksgiving turkey. She turned her cold glance on the recruits who were awaiting her pleasure. "All of a sudden, none of you has anything to say?" She shook her head in disgust. "Revive him and question him," she ordered. 

"In their view?" he asked softly, wanting to know if this was for real or just to intimidate the juveniles who were watching them warily, now. The realization had just sunk in that things were not what they seemed in this place where they had been brought. 

"Make it look good!" She smiled deep into his eyes. 

Wye did not return her smile, but the look he turned on her was hot and dangerous. He squatted down and lightly slapped his adversary's face. "C'mon, Sweet Pea, wakie, wakie. You've got a lot of explaining to do!" 

Exx clapped her hands together. "Pay attention to me, children. My name is Exx and you will listen to me as if your very lives depend on it, because, trust me, they do! Wye is my partner, and since he will be working for the next few minutes, you needn't regard him at all." 

That was guaranteed to have them all casting surreptitious glances at what he was doing. 

Exx had forgotten how much she enjoyed intimidation. This was going to be almost as much fun as working in the White Room! 

The quiet of holding was disturbed by the sound of cloth being sliced open. Wye calmly hummed a jaunty tune as he folded back the ruined trousers and edged them down over narrow hips. 

Exx droned on and on, deliberately keeping her voice monotonous and her words boring. More and more eyes sought out the male torture operative, unwillingly fascinated by his actions. 

A startled yelp diverted Exx's speech. "Ahhh, are we going to need Housekeeping, Wye?" 

"Hmm? Oh, no, not yet. He's very strong! He's going to last quite a long time!" 

This time a shriek filled with pain shattered the quiet of holding. The teens paled and began taking steps away from the drama being enacted before them. 

Another cry followed. Wye held up his knife, examined the blood on the blade and cleaned it on his trousers. "Can I take out an eye?" he asked his mentor. 

There was the sound of retching behind Exx. "Is it necessary?" 

"Yeesss. *I* think so." 

"It's your call. As long as you feel that would not be overdoing it?" 

"No. Overdoing it would be if I cut off his testicles and let him find out what the left one tasted like!" 

The sound of more vomiting reached Exx's ears. "Perhaps you would care to wrap this up?" 

"I'll put in a call to Housekeeping. But I can tell you, they won't be too happy. They don't mind cleaning up blood, but it really upsets them when they have to deal with recruits who lose their lunches. Funny, you wouldn’t think they’d be so finicky!" 

"Ask for Guillaume. He's the most reasonable of them." 

"Yes, ma'am!" Wye winked and flipped open his cell phone. 

The head of interrogation was wearing clothes too snug for her to carry her own link. She walked to where a communication unit was unobtrusively set into the wall. Tapping in a series of numbers, she waited patiently for Madeline to pick up. Exx frowned when she realized she was expected to leave a message. 

She scowled at the unit and tried to reach Madeline's second in command. Operations was not available either. 

She tried one last time. The link at the other end was picked up. "Birkoff." 

"Davenport." Another voice answered at the same time. 

"It's okay, Dav, I've got it!" 

"Sorry, babe, I picked up by mistake." One of the lines went dead. 

Exx gave the unit a puzzled look. "Birkoff? It's Exx. I need to speak with you." 

Birkoff was cautious. "What's up, Exx?" 

"I'm over in holding with a bunch of recruits. Can you send someone down here to take charge of them?" 

"What are you doing with recruits? And weren't you and Wye supposed to be on 'holo' day?" 

"Tell me about it!" she said sourly. "Madeline called us back to check out this bunch; some idiot attacked my trainee and I am not a happy operative!" 

"Is Wye all right?" Birkoff thought it was politic to appear concerned. 

"Of course he is!" she retorted, insulted. "Did you doubt that my material could handle anything Section throws his way?" 

This was not a conversation Birkoff wanted to be having. "Uhh, what do you want from me, Exx?" he asked hesitantly. 

"I can't find Madeline or Operations. Are they even in Section?" 

"Sorry, I can't divulge that information." 

Over the line, the head of comm could hear the interrogation operative grind her teeth. "Very well." The anger in Exx's voice came across like a living thing. "I will handle this myself, and if I get just *one* iota of negative feedback, I will make a great many people in Section One wish their parents had never met! Or better still, had been gay!" 

The connection was severed and Birkoff breathed out a long sigh. He met his friend's eyes across the remains of a meal that littered the table. "I think I’m getting a bad feeling about this!” 

Davenport grinned. "Can you tell me about it?" 

"Something's up. Exx and Wye got called back early from their downtime. Madeline dumped a bunch of recruits on them and now she's nowhere in Section. Neither is Operations. And guess who isn't happy?" 

The corner of Davenport's mouth twitched in a subdued smile. "Not a doubt in my mind. I'm just glad *we're* not involved." 

"I wouldn't bet the ranch on that! This is Section! Somehow or other, we're going to wind up being very involved!" 

The cold operative laughed softly. "You think? This might be a good time to get out of Dodge!" 

Part 4   

Wye tucked his cell phone away, and looked to where his mentor stood scowling fiercely at the group of young recruits that Madeline had insisted they give a once over. Something was definitely off kilter about this whole thing. 

Madeline had promised them an entire weekend of downtime, and then brought them back before they could even get to the good things, the fun things, the things that had to do with WMS. 

He sighed. The possibility of having wild monkey sex with his mentor was fading fast. 

And the head of interrogation was decidedly unhappy about that. Their roll-playing in the park had gotten her very hot. Having the hologram dissolve around them had left her... out of sorts. 

Wye hid a smug grin behind his hand and pretended to cough. The fact that he could make the head of his department melt gave him a heady feeling of satisfaction. 

Even the disturbing encounter with the man who had attempted to undermine his acceptance of his own sexuality hadn't devastated him as it once would have. 

Wye grew suddenly motionless. 

In the middle of her harangue, Exx noticed. She was very aware of everything that had to do with her material. Something had disturbed him, something more than the obvious. As his... mentor, she needed to deal with it. She cautioned the teens, "If you move, if you even *think* of moving, my associate will intimately acquaint you with his knife!" Then she backed toward her trainee, still keeping an eye on the uncategorized recruits. 

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. 

"This cochon, how did he know what words to say to me? How did he know that embracing me would be so upsetting to me that I would be rendered useless to you?" 

Exx looked down where the hapless operative lay curled around himself, his arms protectively between his legs, moaning softly. Nudging him with her toe, she sneered at him. "Who sent you here, pig? I know you could not try something like this on your own! And for God's sake, stop whining! Wye barely touched you!" 

"He was going to cut out my eye!" he sniveled. "He was going to emasculate me!" 

"I was going to what?" Wye asked, not familiar with the word in the language he used. 

"Cut off his balls!" Exx explained. She was disgusted. "What manner of operative are the Sections turning out these days? Where's your courage, man? Where's your pride? These children behaved with more stoicism than you!" 

"Well, they weren't being threatened by a lunatic with a huge knife!" he wailed, sniffing noisily. 

"Hey, man," one of the female recruits chided him, rubbing salt in the wound of the operative's lacerated self-esteem. "The knife wasn't *that* big! My baby sister has one twice the size back at home!" 

Reminded that she still had that lot of recruits to contend with, Exx glowered at the teens, and they retreated into silence. The torture operative was thankful when Guillaume finally put in an appearance. At his heels was a cadaverous operative with mournful eyes. 

The head of Housekeeping examined the mess on the floor with distaste.

 There was nothing he hated more than cleaning up the regurgitated contents of an abused stomach.

 Which somehow seemed to include all his recent recruits. 

"Out of trainees, Guillaume?" Exx asked, regarding his shadow with interest. 

The head of Housekeeping snorted. "They're all in MedLab, recovering from becoming familiar with your work first hand. And it's a shame too, because they would have made decent operatives. Not brilliant, mind you, but competent. Now they'll wind up in abeyance unless I can talk Madeline into transferring them to another department." 

"You're blaming Exx because you were given piss poor material?" Wye demanded, jumping to his mentor's defense. 

"Damn straight, I am! You have no idea how difficult it is to bring someone along until they're almost ready, and then have to expose them to your boss. She's one tough-o mama, I'll have you know!" 

Wye took another step toward the head of Housekeeping, obviously taking umbrage at his choice of words. 

The housekeeping op stepped between them. "You have something to say to my mentor, you take it up with me!" His voice was so soft they had to strain to hear him. 

"Guillaume, control your operative! Wye, I took no offense at his words. Stand down!" Exx waited patiently until both men had taken a step away from each other. "Are congratulations in order, Guillaume?" 

"Why don't you call me 'Bill' like everyone else does?" he asked querulously. 

"Because you were introduced to me as Guillaume.' 

The head of Housekeeping's face lit with fond memories. "Yes, you had just offed your own department head! I remember it as if it was yesterday! You were a pistol!" 

Exx raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe that that particular cancellation was ever accredited  to me!" she replied haughtily. 

"Everybody knew you did it! Oh, maybe not officially; Section isn't stupid. If a recruit can dispose of an experienced department head without leaving a whopping, great sign pointing straight at her that says 'I did it', well, they're not about to disturb the status quo!" 

Exx shook her head. "Wasn't me, wasn't there, didn't do it." 

"Right!" Guillaume just nodded his head. 

The chief interrogation operative turned her attention to the thin man who stood beside the head of Housekeeping. "So" she repeated, "are congratulations in order?" 

Guillaume blushed bright red and nodded. "This is Jean." Gently he ran a thumb over his counterpart's high cheekbone. "He's been promoted to my number two." 

Wye's dark eyes bounced from one member of Housekeeping to the other. "Um*hmm*." 

Exx flashed him a warning glance. "Well, Guillaume, Jean, I wish you the best of luck. You two are certainly going to need it!" 

Jean was still young enough to take exception to what he felt was an insult to the man who had trained him. "Would you care to explain yourself?" he asked silkily. 

Exx permitted herself a tiny smile, and in spite of himself, Jean backed away. "Well, you see, Johnny, my associate and I have some business we need to finish with this little piggy at your feet. I was going to have your department take care of him for me, but now I've decided to question him myself. These recruits?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward where the teens were watching with interest. "They need to be fed and baby-sat until Madeline can be found. Guess who's getting that job!" 

The two Housekeeping operatives exchanged weary glances. "Some days..." Guillaume murmured, and his associate nodded in agreement at the unfinished statement. Today would have been one of those days better spent in bed! “Will Christopher be expecting us at this time of day?” He saw the look behind Exx’s clear lenses and nodded to himself. “Of course not. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather shepherd this bunch...? No, I thought not.” 

At Exx's signal, Wye hoisted the stranger to his feet. The shredded trousers slid to his ankles and he stumbled. The torture operative jerked him upright, none too gently, and sliced through the remaining material, leaving  the trousers behind them as he began marching the denuded rogue op toward the door. "The Dungeon?" he called over his shoulder. 

Exx was giving a last minute warning to the young recruits who stood before her. "A word to the wise: These two gentlemen aren't as ruthless as we are, but not by much. Cross them, and they'll have no problem with killing you and burying your  body so deep it will never be found! And trust me,  you will not be missed!" 

She turned to catch up with her partner, giving him a questioning look. 

“The Dungeon?” he asked again. 

"Oh yes." For a moment she sounded disconcertingly like Operations. "I want *that* in The Dungeon. In manacles. He's either going to talk, or he's going to be very dead!" 

The door swung shut behind them, but not before those in holding heard Wye's response. "Yessss!" 

Part 5  

Exx was following behind her counterpart, watching with appreciative eyes as he strong-armed their prey toward The Dungeon. Passion still simmered just below the surface, and she was eager to have done with this little task so she could finish what they had started in the hologram. 

Because Wye did not have the distinctive strut of Michael, or the machismo saunter of Walter, the male torture operative was considered almost asexual. No one in Section was aware of the powerful, lean lines hidden beneath the black overcoat he was never seen without. It was almost impossible to discern the strength that dwelt in his tightly muscled frame. 

But Exx knew what was housed there. She had felt the controlled intensity of his love-making, and often strove to push him past that point, relishing the unleashed violence behind his deceptively mild facade. 

She loved driving him to wildness, luring him to the edge and then nudging him over. Exx was willing to use any means at her disposal, teasing and taunting until he would leap upon her, sometimes going so far as to shred her clothes. 

But he never left bruises on her fair skin. 

She had been perturbed to discover early in their relationship that she wanted to change that. She wanted him to mark her, just as she wanted him to wear her brand. Civilized by Section’s rather loose standards, Exx had spent long nights worrying this atavistic side of her nature. 

It would never do to let Section in on their little secret:  their purposely bland exteriors hid ravening beasts whose sole desire was to fall on each other, licking, biting, squeezing, fucking, offering up their bodies for their partner’s unbridled pleasure. 

Exx licked her lips, in her mind's eye seeing his taut backside tensing and relaxing as she stroked blunt fingernails over those delicious curves. As she sank her teeth into them. 

And then a panicked cry yanked her from her pleasurable reverie. 

"Mais non! Non, non, non! M' aidez! *M' aidez*!" 

Wye's prisoner was twisting frantically in his punishing grasp, pleading for someone, anyone, to help him. 'Not likely!' Exx thought with satisfaction. This was her territory, and no one in Section dared question either her or her partner here. 

She had fallen somewhat behind, and hurried to catch up, in time to hear Wye speaking softly in a guttural tongue she was unfamiliar with. 

"Wye, qui-est-ce?" 

"It's nothing," he assured her. "Our little friend here is not happy with what's in store for him." 

"Have you something specific in mind?" 

"I was merely toying with him," the male torture operative said flatly. "I would not presume to usurp your authority." 

Exx leaned around him and bared her teeth at their captive in the semblance of a smile. 

He whimpered. 

"Ah, cowboy," she spoke, her voice a throaty whisper in Wye's ear, "this one is all yours! He threatened you and tried to make a fool of you in front of recruits. You may do whatever you wish with him, whatever is your pleasure!" 

Wye found himself supporting a limp form as the man whose arm he held fainted once again. 

"Tsk!" His tongue clicked against his teeth in disgust. "This new bunch of operatives! No fortitude at all! Pretty faces, but nothing inside!" 

“You think he has a pretty face?” Exx asked shortly, thinking that in spite of what had gone before she might need to eliminate a possible rival. The smile Wye gifted her with was so sweet her breath caught in her throat. Heat speared to the heart of her and almost against her will she leaned toward him, her lips parting and her eyelids languidly drifting shut. 

"Merde!" 

As one the torture operatives whirled, to find Michael striding toward them. The level 5 operative wore his patented blank stare, but Exx had known him long enough to recognize the fire burning in his gray-green eyes. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Michael demanded. 

"This is an interrogation matter, Michael," Exx replied calmly, although she was not pleased to find the cold op disputing her on her own turf. "I fail to see where it concerns you." 

Michael slanted her a glance, suddenly realizing she was not wearing her usual prissy business suit. Black jeans snugly encased her legs and lovingly molded her firm derriere. Fringe swung restlessly from below her knee and a woven leather choker with a strange pendant drew attention to the expanse of white flesh that led to her bosom. 

But it wasn't the clothes, as striking as they were, that left Michael wondering what it was about her that had made her so intriguing in the last month or so. Petite blondes were not his style. The statuesque variety, like his Nikita, suited him much better. 

But Nikita had been rather cool toward him in recent days, and he found himself scrutinizing  the direction in which the pendant pointed. 

Reluctantly, he raised his gaze. 

His eyes fastened on her lips, which were folded tightly together in annoyance. "Michael!" she snapped. A frisson of unease crawled up her spine. He had never looked at her like that before, and she felt edgy, disquieted. 

And then Wye stepped between them, their captive still dangling from his grip. "You had something you wished to say to us?" he snarled, emphasizing the 'us'. He had noticed the way the senior operative had been examining his mentor, as if she was a feast he regretted passing up. All Wye's possessive instincts reared back on their hind legs, preparing to fight for what was his. 

Exx had been in Section for much longer than he, but none of the operatives who had known her before his arrival had ever sought to love her. 

Well, she was *his* now, and Wye would battle to the death to keep her! 

Michael snapped back to his senses, appalled at where his libido had been wandering, but hiding it carefully behind his hooded stare. He looked from Wye back to Exx. "I have command!" And he fingered the medallion at his throat. 

Exx spat out a curse she seldom used and demanded, "Where are Madeline and  Operations?" 

Michael gave a Gallic shrug. "That is no concern of yours," he said in his soft voice. "But I need to have Chaz back." He nodded toward Wye's burden. 

"Why?" 

"This is Tactical's business, Exx." 

The head of interrogation prevented a restive quiver from rippling up her spine. But just barely. The way his vocal cords seemed to caress her name was disturbing. And this displeased her, excessively. She was not used to having her emotions toyed with. In Section it was just not done. 

Wye remained on the alert, but no longer ready to go for the older operative's throat. He recalled what happened the last time Exx and Michael had crossed paths. Exx had dragged him back to her quarters and made passionate love to him! 

Now he was curious to see if this would lead once again to his mentor’s bed. 

Watching the head of interrogation at work always got him hot! He was confident that neither she nor the senior cold operative she was sparring with would notice the bulge that marred the line of his trousers. His coat would keep that piece of intel securely concealed. 

Meanwhile, Exx was still confronting Michael. "This...piece of scum attacked my partner. How can you imply it is not interrogation's concern?" 

"Are you challenging me?" Michael demanded, his eyes suddenly verdant green with excitement. 

Exx's vision almost blurred as her fury mounted, and her right fist suddenly began clenching and unclenching fitfully. Wye thought it best to intervene before his mentor could unsheathe the knife still bound to her forearm. No longer wearing the black suit that served almost like armor, the head of interrogation seemed to have lost control of her emotions! 

"I think perhaps you had better explain the situation to us, Michael," he said quietly. 

Eyes now more gray than green regarded the younger man with scant interest. "I have command of Section," he reminded the torture operative. "Disregard my orders at your own peril!" He saw Exx was not about to back down and raised a hand to forestall her. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to my quarters, where we can discuss this matter more... privately?" 

Exx recoiled as if he had struck her. "Michael, I don't care if you are in command at this moment in time! Do the letters ‘f’-‘o’ mean anything to you?" 

The cold operative's features softened almost into humor. "There is nothing I can do...nothing I can say to change your mind?" 

"No!" Exx was starting to feel as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole. 

 Michael reached toward her and stroked a finger gently along her cheek. "Dommage! Pity!" He turned on his heel and walked away. "Don't damage him *too* badly," he called over his shoulder. "I'll still need him when you're finished." 

Wye dropped the rogue op and caught his mentor as she began to topple and eased her to the floor. Murmuring soft, nonsense words to her, he rested Exx against a convenient wall and casually backhanded the rogue operative who was once again beginning to show signs of reviving. Chaz slumped into unconsciousness, moaning through his split lip. 

“Exx? Sweet lady, what’s wrong?” Wye briskly rubbed her arms, disturbed by the tremors he felt coursing through her. 

And then he realized that the shudders were caused by her failed attempt to subdue almost hysterical laughter. His hands settled over her shoulders and shook her. He didn’t quite dare try the age-old remedy of a slap in the face to jolt a person out of hysteria. 

“Oh mon Dieu, mon Dieu!” she choked out between gasps of laughter. “Michael was coming on to me! The coldest operative in all of Section, the man that every female operative wants, and he made a pass at me!!” 

And then suddenly all hilarity fled and she turned in his embrace. “Why? Everyone knows he and Nikita are a pair.” Her fingers snagged the sleeve of his jacket and dug in. “This feels all wrong! The only man who ever made the first move toward me was the interrogation head I came in under. After he died, everyone else was afraid to approach me unless I indicated I was interested. Something is going on! Why, after all this time, does Michael start acting as if he finds me irresistible? Why?” 

Her partner answered in a low voice. “Because, perhaps, you are?” 

Part 6 

Exx stumbled to her feet, staring in numbed shock at the man who was her trainee, her counterpart, her...lover. "Y-you think I-I'm irresistible?" she stammered. 

"I always have!" he admitted calmly. "From the day Operations gave me to you I've wanted nothing more than to be with you. To be a part of you, of your life! I think you're the most desirable woman I have ever met!" 

"I am the premier head of interrogation in Section One! I am *not* supposed to be desirable!" 

Wye smiled and backed her up to the wall. "But you are!" He leaned  against her, letting her feel the full weight of his erection, and pressed his lips gently to hers. "You can't help yourself! And neither can I!" With a deep groan, the kiss grew ravenous and Wye plundered the mouth beneath his own. 

The head of interrogation wound her fingers through the short strands of her counterpart's hair and pulled him closer. She forgot where she was. Still simmering from their encounter in the hologram, she  unleashed the fragile grip on her passion and began fumbling with his belt. Exx jerked her mouth away from Wye's and kissed her way to his ear while she tore at the fastenings to her own jeans. 

The words she whispered in another language were explicit sex words, arousing, hot. But not as hot as her breath in his ear. "Exx, that's French!" he growled as he freed himself from his trousers and pushed her jeans out of his way. With a single smooth thrust he was buried deep inside her, his turgid manhood surrounded by her sultry, humid heat. 

He shuddered and held himself motionless, tormenting them both. Exx's mouth traveled the length of his throat and seized on the spot where his pulse beat erratically. Her teeth closed in warning and she rocked her hips, imperatively demanding action. 

Wye's lower body began a slow undulation, driving shallowly in and then languidly withdrawing to the point where only the tip of his weeping arousal was still in her. Whimpers spilled from her lips as her hands reached down to grasp his buttocks. She was momentarily nonplused to discover his trousers still covering his rump, but she dismissed that as irrelevant and dug in her nails, encouraging him to increase his pace. 

"Do you want it fast, sweet lady?" he gasped, struggling to restrain his movements. "Do you want it hard?"  His breath was whistling in and out. "Tell me how you want it!" 

She panted as she felt the wave of fulfillment approaching, but it was not enough: not fast enough, not hard enough. She teetered on the brink, and he held her there relentlessly. "Faster, damn you! Harder! And NOW!" 

The speed of his strokes escalated. He was quickly losing the battle to extend the pleasure of their lovemaking for  much longer. Exx's inner muscles were contracting around him in long, milking spasms and with a harsh groan he began pouring himself into her snug channel. 

Wye sank to his knees, keeping his mentor firmly joined to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, licking his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. Lazily she opened her eyes, reaching up to settle the frames of her glasses, which had gotten knocked askew and met the shocked gaze of the operative they were taking to The Dungeon. 

"Trouble at ten o'clock!" she murmured softly. Her partner swung his right arm up and back viciously and connected with a delicate portion of the hapless Chaz' anatomy. He doubled over, retching from the pain. 

Wye was sure they should castigate themselves; in the heat of passion they had both forgotten about him. 

But the head of interrogation was feeling too mellow. She rolled her hips, wringing out one last ounce of sensation and then staggered to her feet. "You do good work, cowboy!" She smiled deeply into his eyes, a true, satisfied smile. 

He pulled her head down for one last, forceful kiss, and then he too was standing. "I love how you ride me, sweet lady. You're the only one I've ever had these feelings for!" 

"You mentioned that once before. I don't understand how such a sex pistol could never have wanted a woman before me." Exx glanced up from where she was adjusting her jeans, to find Wye avoiding her eyes. With gentle fingers she turned his face to meet her gaze. "Quoi, cherie?" 

"After what was done to me in that other place, I never thought to want anyone, man or woman!" He edged away and leaned over to hoist the rogue operative to his feet. 

"I can see why you'd never let a man touch you, considering how those bastards misused you. But I should think a woman would be something else, that you'd want to roger anything in skirts once you were old enough for those others to lose interest in you." 

"Men aren't the only ones with sick inclinations, you know." 

Exx actually paled. "Women hurt you as well?" she demanded. 

"Just one. Believe me, she was more than enough!" 

The head of torture idly straightened the French cuff of her right sleeve. She watched her counterpart from under the shield of her lashes. "Is she still alive, this woman?" 

"I suppose,” Wye said carelessly. “She and her husband left that place when I was fifteen, and I lost track of them." He gave the rogue operative a disgusted look. "Get moving, sweet pea. We've got some interesting implements in The Dungeon with your name on them!" He shoved the quaking plant toward the lift, then spun around to grab his mentor with hard hands. 

"Just let it go!" he ordered, and he kissed her once more before turning back to his charge. 

"Of course, cowboy." 

But the look in her blue eyes said she was letting go of nothing. Somewhere on this planet were two people who had inhabited it for too long. 

Whatever it took, she would find them. 

Then she would let it go. 

Part 7 

Soft murmuring teased his ears as the rogue operative, who in actuality was a plant, roused to full consciousness. 

“Make sure that one is tight enough,” a female voice that was vaguely familiar ordered. 

“This okay?” 

Fingers stroked along his hand to his shackled wrist, and he shuddered as his favorite wet dream seemed to be playing out in real time. He wedged open an eye to find a vision in tight black jeans before him, rendering him helpless as she fastened his other wrist to the wall. 

“Yes, that’s excellent. Good work, Wye.” 

Wye? And suddenly the reality of his situation struck him, and the snick of the closing  manacle sounded like the crack of doom. 

Wye was the operative he had been sent to Section One to compromise. Queer as a three dollar bill, his superior had promised. A duck soup mission, he had been assured! Once the head of interrogation discovered her premier trainee was gay, she’d have no choice but to cancel him herself. That was the Section way. 

Only his target had not responded to his calculated  words and caresses as if he relished being fondled by another man. Once he had shaken off his horror (for Chaz was not stupid, and could recognize a reaction resulting from abuse when it smacked him in the face), Wye had taken the experienced valentine op down and proceeded to terrorize him. 

The cuts he had inflicted were shallow, and if Chaz survived his time in Section, would heal without a scar. Unfortunately, the possibility of the operative living beyond dinner was looking more and more unlikely. 

“What are you going to do to me?” he demanded hoarsely, keeping a wary eye on the male torture operative. 

“Nothing,” the female operative was the one who answered him, “if you talk to me. You *are* going to talk to me, aren’t you, sweet pea?”

“Not on your life, *sweet pea*!” he sneered. “Go find me the head of interrogation! *Maybe* I’ll talk to Exx, but not to a bit of fluff like you!  I’ll tell her why I was sent here. And she won’t have to threaten me with bodily injury!” 

Wye’s mouth dropped open. “Who do you think you’re talking to, you idiot?” 

The operative’s eyes bulged as he examined the figure before him that exuded sex, and then closed in despair. “You *can’t* be Exx, you can’t be! You look like a submissive’s last best hope!” 

Exx spat out a bad word. “I *knew* if Madeline wouldn’t let me change out of civilian clothes no one would take me seriously!” 

“I always take you seriously, no matter what you wear,” Wye whispered softly in her ear. “Or don’t wear!” He rubbed his chin against her hair. 

The chained operative groaned. “I am *so* dead!” 

“Oh wait, don’t tell me you’re from Section Three! Are we being over-run by operatives who only know Valley speak?” 

The valentine op merely looked miserable and shuffled his feet as much as his chains would allow. “No,” he gulped audibly. “I’m not from Three, although I was trained there.” 

“Stands to reason!” Exx snarled, still bearing a grudge against the Prime of  Three for not taking better care of her material when he was there. “Now start telling me why you attempted to demoralize my partner.” 

“Your partner? He’s just supposed to be a trainee. And the man I take orders from assured me he was gay!” 

Wye’s dark eyes went flat with fury. “So Exx was to discover her material was a fag,” he deliberately coarsened his language, “and then what?” 

“You were supposed to be canceled,” Chaz responded bitterly. “Either Exx was to do it herself, or else order it done. Either way, your relationship would have been terminated and she would be given a new operative to work with.” 

“Someone chosen by your superior, no doubt?” Wye was literally frothing at the mouth. Not so much that the valentine op had molested to him, but that someone apparently high up in the hierarchy of the Sections was determined to destroy the only connection with another person that he had. 

The manacled operative could only nod his head in defeat. “What are you going to do to me?” 

“I want to know who gave you those orders,” Exx said in a voice that was as deadly as it was quiet. 

Chaz’ pale skin turned ashen. “If I tell you that, I’m a dead man!” 

“This is true,” the head of interrogation responded. “However, if you don’t tell me that, you will still be dead, and your manner of passing will be so hard you will curse the day your mother conceived you! I’m not in the least squeamish, you know. Although Housekeeping really does hate cleaning up after me,” she said in an aside to her counterpart. 

“What will you do to me?” 

“Are you trying to trade off the amount of pain your superior is worth? It’s not nearly as much as I am ready to inflict, I promise you, little man!” 

Involuntarily, tears began to leak out of the valentine operative’s eyes. “I don’t want to die! Mr. ... my superior will kill me if I say anything!” 

“We seem to have a failure to communicate, here. *I’ll* kill you if you *don’t* say anything! And let’s face it, I’m here and *he* isn’t!” 

Wye nodded in agreement. “I’d tell the lady anything she wanted to know, if I were you, Chaz.” He put a brotherly arm around the operative’s shoulders and gave it a squeeze. “She’s not a woman to fuck with!” 

The valentine op shuddered and bit his lip. “I...I can’t tell you anything else.” 

“You mean you *won’t* tell me anything! You’re either very stupid or very loyal. And quite frankly, loyalty buys you squat around here! Do you really think your superior gives a rat’s ass what happens to you? One last time: who sent you to Section One? Tell me!” 

Chaz looked as if he was going to be violently ill. “No! I’ve already told you everything I know! I swear to God!” 

Wye met his mentor’s eyes and sighed in exasperation. “The irons?” he asked. 

Exx permitted a tight smile to stretch her mouth. “I like the way you think, cowboy!” 

Her prisoner moaned. His mouth flooded with liquid as his stomach roiled and promised to regurgitate its contents. 

The male torture operative plugged in a wand that resembled nothing so much as a curling iron. Its purpose was not nearly so innocuous. 

“I don’t know anything else!” 

“Why don’t I believe you?” Exx nodded to her partner to proceed at his convenience. 

Wye allowed it to heat for a long minute before permitting a drop of water to touch the iron. He watched intently as the drop sizzled and sputtered and then evaporated. 

“No! Please! *Please*!” 

The dark eyes of the torture op rose to catch those of the man who had been sent to Section One to bring about his destruction. “Begging is *so* demeaning!” and once again he began to hum. 

For a beat silence filled The Dungeon. 

And then the screams started. 

**** 

The Torture Twins were in the large bathroom in their quarters getting cleaned up. Once the valentine operative had been persuaded to reveal the surprising amount of intel he knew without being aware of what he knew, Exx had kept her word and his end had been as painless as she could contrive. 

Of course, by that point, almost anything she could have done would have felt painless in comparison. 

“Well, Housekeeping was relatively happy,” Wye remarked. “Burns don’t leave much of a mess on the floor!” 

Exx scowled at him. “But a cut throat does. And brains would too, if I had opted to shoot him instead!” 

“Then I guess it was a good idea you just put the shiv between his ribs!” Wye blew a kiss at her. 

Exx was still irritated. “Freaking prima donnas!” she snarled under her breath, referring to her colleagues in Housekeeping. “A little spatter in the White Room or The Dungeon and they’re after my ass!”

The corner of Wye’s mouth kicked up in a beguiling grin. “I can’t blame them,” he said as he took the hand towel from her and began drying his hands, deliberately using the same part of the cloth that she had used. “I’m always after your ass too!” 

The head of interrogation felt her mouth go dry. The work clothes she was about to lay out dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. “Wye?” She swallowed and turned away to resolutely begin shedding the outfit she had chosen  to wear for their ‘holo’day. “We really need to get to the bottom of this!” 

Wye leaned against the door frame of their bath, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze appreciative as she bent over to skin out of the snug jeans. Her derriere was framed by a midnight blue scrap of silk, the firm globes emphasized by the narrow strip of material that nestled in the crevice. Hot eyes were pealing off her remaining garments. 

Her fingers became hopelessly entangled in the laces of her ankle boot and she lost her balance, tumbling backward. 

The male interrogation operative laughed softly to see his normally agile lover land on the edge of the bed and then slide off to hit the carpet, so hard she bit her tongue. 

“Merde!” 

With casual grace, Wye pushed away from the door and crossed the floor to reach down and catch his partner under her arms. He pulled her to her feet, making sure her body came into contact with every inch of his, then placed her arms around his neck and reached down to knead the naked flesh of her buttocks. 

“I love how you feel in my hands!” he whispered as with a broad swipe of his tongue he followed the curve of her ear. His fingertips swept up under the silk of her shirt, curling to run blunt nails over her shoulder blades and back down the ridges of her spine. 

Wye held her steady as he eased a hard leg between her thighs, encouraging her to ride him. Exx rubbed against him restlessly, seeking a deeper caress. 

“Come for me, sweet lady,” he ordered hoarsely, moving her hips in time with  the hot words he murmured into her mouth. “Come apart and let me catch you!” 

His hands twisted in the material that held her panties at her hips and with a single, violent tug they were reduced to rags. He opened his fingers and let the scraps fall to the floor. 

Exx’s eyes were unfocused. Her heavy lids slid closed and she fastened her lips on his, biting them, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to play hide and seek with his. The abrasion of his trousers against her naked skin was driving her to the edge. 

“Set me free!” he whispered as he gasped for breath. “Open my pants and take me in your hands!” 

The head of interrogation worked her fingers between their bodies and ran her thumbnail along the span of his zipper. He growled warningly as she continued to toy with him, feeling his arousal growing full and heavy. 

With a muttered curse, Wye unzipped his trousers himself, but before he could shove his slacks down his legs and off, Exx had filled her hands with his hot, turgid length. 

Wild with the feel and the taste and the scent of his lover, Wye crowded her back onto the bed and followed her down, sliding into her welcoming heat with one, smooth stroke. Capturing her hands, he held them imprisoned beside her head. His dark eyes tangled with her blue ones and they lost themselves in the fathomless ocean of passion. 

Exx curled her knees high around her lover’s waist, opening herself to him. 

Wye angled his upper body away so they were only connected by the flesh that joined him to her. Harder and harder he thrust into her as she moaned and thrashed her head from side to side. “Now!” she moaned as the abyss drew ever closer. “Now!” 

“Now!” he agreed as with one final surge he sent her spiraling out of control, and willingly followed her into the depths. 

**** 

“Oh, God, that was wonderful!” The male torture operative was still trying to catch his breath. 

“Mmmm!” 

“Uh, I do have something I need to tell you though.” 

Exx didn’t open her eyes, but a frown wrinkled the space between her brows. She didn’t know if she could take anymore revelations that day. “What is this, true confessions time?” 

“It’s just that...I love when you cross swords with Michael!” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yes. You probably never noticed it, but taking on Michael makes you hotter than a firecracker! I’m glad I’m the one who lights your fuse!” 

She smiled against his neck, hiding her pleasure in him. “And it’s never dawned on you that seeing me trade words with such a dangerous operative makes you so hot and so ready to rock we barely have time to find some place private?” 

“You noticed that?” The male interrogation op was a little perturbed that the workings of his body were an open book to his love..r. “Wait a minute! You do that on purpose?” Wye couldn’t fit his mind around the concept that anyone in Section would willingly bait its coldest op. “For how long?” 

“Remember the first time you took me? I had just finished going toe to toe with Michael. Eventually I realized that every time that happened, you became so hot and so hard, I began to find reasons to argue with him. Only when you were available, of course.” 

Wye rolled  onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. “You little...” 

“Mata Hari? Messalina? Mme de Sade? ...Madeline?” 

“Good God, no! Not her, *never* her!” 

“Then...?” 

A wry smile twisted his lips, and he couldn’t resist rubbing them sensuously over her mouth. “I guess that’s just for me to know. And you to find out!” 

Part 8   

Madeline was quite the cosmopolitan, but still, she had never seen a ladies room that could rival this one in Center. Not only were there upholstered chaises, discreetly placed along the wall, and vanities before antique mirrors lit to maximum advantage for the repair of makeup, but each stall had its own pedestal sink with solid brass fixtures and closed circuit TV. Every manner of toiletry article was available. 

As well as other... things. 

The lighting was subdued. Actual cloth towels were offered instead of paper or those machines that blasted air that was never warm enough, or for long enough. 

Section had nothing on Center! Madeline could get used to this with very little effort at all! 

She unpinned her shoulder length brown hair and picked up a soft brush that had been set aside for her use, then frowned as she noticed the fine tremor in her fingers. She gripped the handle of the brush so tightly her knuckles became bloodless. 

Madeline had never met Mr. Jones, although she had spoken to his executive secretary a number of times, and on one auspicious occasion, had actually conversed with him, however briefly. 

Why had he summoned her to Center, rather than contacting her through channels? The threat posed by the network executive and the programming director had been thoroughly neutralized thanks to Exx's ingenious scheme. She had implemented the data garnered by the Caspar Project, which more than paid off its astronomical cost. 

The head of psych was willing to follow Mr. Jones' instructions to drive her premier interrogation team apart, although she was not best pleased by his orders. He undoubtedly had his own agenda, an operative he thought worthy of promotion to Section One, and Madeline would accept his directive, but she resented that he was tampering with perfection. 

She was not afraid of the head of interrogation, but she was wary of her. Anyone who was not afraid to face her own death, who indeed expected nothing less from the organization she worked for, was someone to be treated very cautiously. 

Shaking off her thoughts, Madeline briskly ran the brush through her seal dark hair and pinned it up. She washed her hands again and dried them with the thick, soft towel. Then she leaned into the mirror and met her bittersweet chocolate gaze.

"I can do this! I’m the head of Section!" She took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then blew it out. "I'm good enough! I'm smart enough! And goddammit, people *like* me!" 

With a satisfied nod, she straightened her suit jacket and headed for the door, prepared to meet with Mr. Jones for the first time. 

**** 

Exx was draped across her lover's naked torso, running her nails through the dark pelt that covered his chest, toying with his nipples, stroking down to cup his semi-arousal. 

"I imagine we should go see how Guillaume and Jean are managing with the recruits," she murmured lazily. 

"Mmmm," Wye mumbled. "Do we have to?" 

She smiled, although he couldn't see it. "We don’t *have* to: we can do whatever we want. I'm head of this department!" 

"Know what I'd really like to do?" he asked, sated and still half asleep. "I'd like to make you pregnant!" 

Wye's eyes flew open and he barely stifled a groan. //Oh God! please tell me I did *not* say that out loud!// 

Exx rolled away from the man in their-- her-- *the* freaking bed, and rose stiffly to her feet. A ramrod up her spine could not have made her back any more unbending. She began dressing. 

Antarctica would have felt tropical in comparison to the emotional temperature in the room. 

"Exx..." 

"I have some things that I need to see to. Do me a favor: Don't be here when I get back!" 

"Sweet lady, please let me explain..." 

"Explain what, *sweet pea*? That in spite of everything that's passed between us, you're nothing but a macho chauvinist who wants me barefoot and pregnant? You’ve never taken precautions, or asked me if I was protected; were you hoping to assume my position if I somehow, *accidentally* got pregnant?" She finished pulling on her clothes and ran a disgruntled hand through her short hair, finger combing it, then snatched up her glasses. 

"I want all your things out of here immediately!" 

Jerkily she fitted the glasses onto her face, nearly poking out her eye in the process, and stormed out of their quarters, slamming the door so hard it bounced back on its hinges. 

Wye pounded his fist against the bed impotently. "Fuck, fuck *fuck*!" What had happened? How had his world suddenly turned to shit? 

He got out of bed and walked to the door, slamming it viciously shut in his turn. She was head of interrogation, torture operative par excellence and his mentor. But she was also his lover. 

And he'd be damned. He'd be double damned. He'd be double *dog* damned! before he let her throw him out of her life! 

This was just a misunderstanding. They'd get it straightened out when she came back. He would beg; he would grovel. He would... 

No. He wouldn't. He might be her trainee, but he was an equal partner in this relationship. 

He quickly dressed and hurried from the room, leaving the bed unmade. Moving in with Exx had not corrected any of his old habits. 

Wye paced the living quarters restlessly, unable to settle to anything. He was so tense that his gut was making irritable noises. 

And then he realized it wasn't stress that was making his stomach growl, it was lack of food. He hadn't eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. 

If he was famished, then Exx must be starving as well. He knew she became downright cranky if she was hungry. She was at her most intimidating, and did some of her best work, when she was peckish. 

The kitchen was in its usual cluttered condition. He cleaned up some pots and bowls and examined their cupboard for supplies. Unfortunately, it was pretty bare. He had no choice but to make Section Surprise, which consisted of any leftovers tossed into a casserole dish, covered with bread crumbs and four different cheeses and heated in the microwave for as long as it took 

At least now he had a battle plan! He would feed her when she got back. If he could get her to sit down long enough... If he could convince her their relationship was worth saving... 

If he could prevent her from killing him the moment she walked in! 

Part 9   

Exx was halfway down the corridor before it occurred to her that there was  nowhere to go. 

The ward room was being refurbished, as per Madeline's orders, a reward for a job deftly completed. Right now it was filled with the painters and carpenters who generally worked Maintenance. The Dungeon was crowded with not only Housekeeping, but Disposal as well, and it would be another couple of hours before either department cleared out. 

It was only when the floor beneath her feet began to shift and feel as if it was about to rise up and smack her in the mouth that she realized she had a larger problem. Her skin was coated with clammy perspiration, she was beginning to stagger and her hands shook so badly she had to clench them into fists. 

"Merde!" When was the last time she had eaten? She had mentioned something about dinner to Wye when they were in holding, but baiting Michael had distracted her. And the aftermath of that had left her with a massive desire, but not for food. 

Her blood sugar must be bottoming out! She'd have to get something to eat, and she meant right this minute! 

She made her way carefully to the lifts that descended to the commissary. The first car that stopped was crowded with operatives going off-shift. One look at the tight-lipped, ashen torture operative emptied the lift; the occupants decided they weren't all that hungry anyway. 

Silently, Exx entered the now vacant car and punched the button for the sub-level that housed the commissary. 

She was feeling increasingly disoriented  by the time she stepped off the lift and into the correct corridor, and she took a moment to gather herself. It would never do for the head of interrogation to fall flat on her face before God and all of Section. The mischief such an exhibition would cause her reputation would be impossible to live down. 

Like a drunk denying any degree of intoxication, she concentrated intently on keeping her gait steady as she walked into the large room and up to the counter. The operatives who were there watched her performance in amazement. She reached over and snapped up a glass bottle of orange juice. With a deft twist, she broke the seal and began chugging the liquid, careless of the stream that poured over her chin and onto the black suit she wore. 

"Exx! Mon Dieu! Qu'est-ce que sais que ca?" 

The head of interrogation didn't pause in her swallowing, although a gimlet eye glared over the glass that blocked most of her vision. Christopher paled but stood his ground. 

When the last drop was either down her throat or down her front, Exx took the bottle from her lips and licked them clean. She was feeling better already, but she still needed food. 

"I'll tell you what it is, Christophe! I want something decent to eat. Not the slop that you're serving this ragtag lot! I want it hot, I want it substantial, I want it filled with carbohydrates. And I want it immediately!"

"Mais oui, mais oui! Certainment!" 

"Shoo, shoo, shoo!" Exx waved him off and went to find a table where she could sit by herself and contemplate how her life had suddenly turned to shit. She grabbed a handful of napkins and mopped her chin. A few half-hearted swipes at the front of her jacket simply smeared the sticky residue into the fabric and she curled her lip in distaste, disgusted that she had let so much juice spill all over her. She'd have to send the suit to Laundry for cleaning. 

More quickly than she had expected, Christopher began placing dishes before her: a bowl of applesauce for starters, seasoned bread, a cold pasta salad, a cut of prime rib that had originally been slated for Madeline's own private dining pleasure. 

Christopher was no fool. Madeline was off-site and Exx was here. He knew who would be likely to do him the most damage. And Exx had still not forgiven him for slipping something into her meal that had left her suffering severe food poisoning. 

The prime rib was so tender a knife wasn't even needed to slice into it. Exx ate it with relish, as well as the herbed roasted potatoes that served as a side dish. By the time she reached the grapes that Christopher had placed at her elbow, Exx was feeling much like her usual self. 

"Christopher, I just might let you live." She sighed with repletion and accepted the glass of dessert wine he offered her. 

All right, now that she was more the thing, she needed to consider the hash she had made of the most important relationship she had ever experienced. 

Exx didn't believe for one second that her counterpart would try something so crass and underhanded as getting her pregnant to oust her from her position. She could see him cutting her throat for it, if he wanted it  that badly, but not using an innocent as collateral to bring her down. 

So why had she reacted so violently to what she was sure was an innocuous statement? 

She was afraid she knew the answer to that. 

Children had never been part of the equation for her. She was not the maternal type. 

But if that was what he wanted, then she would have given him his heart's desire without blinking an eye. 

She finished the wine and picked up the grapes, pulling one off the stem and popping it in her mouth. It was time to see what kind of damage control would be necessary to mend what she had reflexively shattered. Or to determine if it was rent beyond repair. 

"Merci, Christophe," she called over her shoulder as she left his domain, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief to see the back of her. 

Exx finished the last of the green fruit as she exited the lift on her level. She wondered if Wye had obeyed her last order to him, and if he *had* left their quarters, where she would find him. 

She was not good at apologizing; it was not something she frequently did. But she definitely owed her partner a grovel at the very least. Or perhaps a more physical reprisal. It was his call, and she was willing to go along with whatever he wanted. 

Outside their door, she paused, nervous for the first time since she had become head of her department. What if he decided a relationship with her wasn’t worth the effort. What if he wasn't there? 

"Snap out of it!" she ordered herself. "If he's not here, he's somewhere else in Section. And I'll find him!" 

The head of interrogation entered their quarters. Through an open door she could see the rumpled bed. 

But no Wye. 

From the kitchen, an interesting odor wafted. 

But no Wye. 

And then she heard the sound of water flushing. She walked to the bedroom door and leaned against the frame, waiting. 

She could hear the faucets being turned on and then off. 

She could hear the mumbling of an irritated male. 

And then the door opened. 

And there was Wye. 

Part 10 

"You didn't leave!"  

Oh great! That *had* to rank as one of the top ten most brilliant things to say! Exx wanted to sink into the floor. Could she make a more obvious remark? 

"No, I didn't leave."  Wye stood framed in the doorway, the towel he had used to dry his hands clenched in his fists, forgotten. 

 "I...I need to explain something to you." Her eyes were bleak. 

The lines around Wye's mouth stood out in stark relief, white and deeply etched. The quiet of the room was disturbed by the sound of material separating. Stupidly, he looked down at the remains of the towel that was now torn in two and dangling from each hand. 

"I need to speak to you also." 

Exx turned pale, but nodded her head jerkily. "Fair enough. I..." 

"No, wait a minute!" he interrupted. "I want you to eat something!" 

Exx's blue eyes seemed to flame. "If you insist!" 

She walked toward him purposefully, and he watched her as if she was a predator stalking him. Exx didn't stop until her breasts were a hairsbreadth away from his chest. Her fingers reached out to stroke the ever-present bulge that marred the smooth line of Wye's trousers, and he shuddered, cursing his helpless response to her presence. 

The head of interrogation slid down her counterpart's zipper and freed his arousal from the prison of his slacks. "Is this what you want me to eat?" She sank to her knees before him and licked at the moisture beading the tip of his rampant erection. 

Wye groaned and twisted his fingers in her hair. He meant to stop her erotic ministrations, truly he did. But her mouth was so hot. And her tongue teased him so. And he was sure this was the last time she would ever allow him to get close to her. 

His hips rocked forward and he thrust deeply, biting his lips to prevent whimpers from spilling past them. Darkly sexual phrases told her  how much he enjoyed the way she was pleasuring him. 

Gently, she let him feel the pressure of her teeth. Her fingers reached into his trousers and caressed the twin sacs that hung heavily beneath his engorged manhood. And then one questing finger ventured beyond that point, teasing the sensitive area. 

With a hoarse cry, Wye began coming, pouring himself into her wonderfully fuckable mouth and for long moments his hips jerked spasmodically. Lost in a fog of lust, he was uncaring of his surroundings. 

Exx finally released him and sank back on her heels. She wiped the residue of  his climax from her lips and waited for what would come. 

Wye wasn't in the best of conditions to carry on any type of intelligent conversation. His legs refused to support him and he just managed to lower himself to the floor without hurting anything important. It took him a while to regain his normal respiratory rhythm. 

"What...why did you do that?" he asked breathlessly. 

"You said I had to eat," she replied. 

"Food!" he sputtered. "I meant food!" 

"Oh." She suddenly looked tired. 

"You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday! You have to put something in your stomach!" 

"This doesn't count?" She examined him from under her lashes. 

"No, this does not count!" he snapped. She was making him dare to hope there might still be a future for them. 

"Actually..." 

Wye continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I made a casserole for you. It's nothing special, but it should bring your blood sugar up." 

She stared at him, nonplused. "You figured out my numbers had dropped?" 

He shrugged uncomfortably. "When you...care about someone, you pick up on things like that. Come on, have some dinner and then you can tear a strip off me." Wye staggered to his feet and turned away from her, weaving a little as he made his way toward the kitchen, finally able to bring his breathing under control. 

His thoughtfulness touched her, especially since she had reacted so violently to what he had said. Maybe he still wanted to be in her life. 

Exx followed him and sat down at the place he had set for her at their table. How could she tell him she had already realized what the physical problem was and had corrected it? 

"Um, Wye..." 

He filled a plate with the casserole and handed it to her. "Get this in your stomach. There will be plenty of time to discuss what I said and what I meant later." 

"Where do we go from here?" she asked hesitantly. 

Wye sighed in sudden irritation. "I don’t want to talk about this right now; we’re both too stressed. So shut up and eat!" 

Exx was unwilling to take exception to his tone of voice. She figured he had a right to his pound of flesh. 

She was about to tell him that she had already eaten in the commissary when the steam floating up from the dish rose to her nostrils and wended its way through her nasal passages and down to her throat. With a mighty effort of will, she prevented herself from gagging. 

The identity of the meal struck her forcefully: it was Section Surprise, something all the inhabitants of Section had wound up eating at one time or another, when minutes were scarce and there was nothing else available. 

It was the only food she had little tolerance for. 

It was the only food she loathed more than rats and grubs! 

Desperately, she looked up at her counterpart. He was watching with such steadfast eyes, determined to make sure she recovered from her hypoglycemic episode, that she couldn't bear to refuse him. 

Grimly, she reached for the fork. "This looks delicious." She turned her face away so he wouldn't see her grimace as she took a bite. "You cooked for me; how thoughtful! And it smells,-- uh...Yum!" Exx was babbling. 

She reluctantly swallowed and then reached for a glass of water to wash it down. "Oh boy," she said, making ‘yummy’ sounds. If she didn’t make yummy sounds,  she would have been making retching noises. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" 

Wye sat opposite from her, so pleased that if he had a tail he would have been wagging it. 

"Aren't you having any?" 

"I already ate." 

Of course. Just her luck. And there was no way to get him out of the room so she could scrape off a large portion of the leftovers into the disposal. 

She gritted her back teeth and resolutely forked another portion into her mouth. He was doing this because he cared about her. 

She was doing this because she cared about him. 

But oh God, why had no one told her that letting someone in her life could make her do such stupid things?

On to Part B