------------------------------
Jealousy
by Lianne Burwell
October 1998
------------------------------

Michael looked around the room, his face as impassive as usual. The 
doctors had finally given their approval to his shoulder, saying that the 
injury was fully healed, and that he could return to field work. Of 
course, it would not have mattered if they hadn't. Any longer off-duty 
and he would have become stale: a dangerous thing for a field operative.

He had reviewed the team's reports, while on the injured list. Nikita had 
done well. Two operations, successfully completed under her command. It 
might be time to move her out of Michael's team, and give her one of her 
own. Michael made a mental note to speak to Madeline. Operations might 
object, though. He still thought that Nikita was too soft. Too emotional.

Nikita had been watching him carefully, lately. He knew that she was 
going to want to talk to him eventually. She had noticed how much time 
that Birkoff had spent at his apartment during his convalescence, and it 
obviously bothered her. That was fine. Birkoff had been bringing him 
extra reports to occupy his time. How long Birkoff stayed was none of her 
business.

Walter was also beginning to ask questions. He had been with Section One 
for a very long time, but had never learned the trick of shutting off his 
emotions. He was very like Nikita in that way. In many ways he seemed to 
think of Birkoff as a surrogate son, and he was very protective of the 
young man. As the Section's armorer, he was not a good person to have 
upset with you, and if he thought that Michael was going to hurt 
Birkoff... Well, he could make life very dangerous for Michael.

Perhaps it was time to have that talk with Madeline, he thought. 
Strangely enough, though, he was reluctant to suggest that his 
association with the computer expert be ended.

Michael looked up as the other members of the team entered. Nikita was 
first, and the blonde took her usual seat next to him. Birkoff sat down, 
further down the table, without more than glancing at him. The computer 
expert had turned out to be very good at being discreet, something which 
both surprised and impressed him. With Gail, he had been very obvious, 
always looking for excuses to touch her. Michael had worried that Birkoff 
would behave the same way with him, but he had been worrying needlessly.

Walter was included in this meeting as well. None of the other members of 
the team were invited to the briefing. Michael knew all their names, but 
they were essentially canon-fodder. All of them had been 'recruited' from 
prisons, as most of Section was. As a result, they were not consulted 
during the planning phases of a mission.

Everyone looked up as Madeline, Operations and a new man entered the 
room. The profiler moved to taker her seat at the end of the table, and 
the stranger moved around to the other side. Operation remained standing.

"This is Hans Gueben. He is an arms dealer who has worked primarily in 
Asia up until now. He is now reportedly working from this part of the 
world," the man said. He touched a control, and the holographic display 
flickered to life above the conference table. The man projected showed 
the Germanic blood that his name implied, with thinning blond hair, and 
watery blue eyes. He was gaunt, almost cadaverous.

"Gueben deals in exotic arms, including biological weapons. We want him 
captured and brought in alive for questioning. We want to know what he 
has been selling, and who he has been selling to."

"Do we know *where* he is?" Michael asked, the first priority.

The stranger spoke up for the first time, revealing a slight British 
accent. "He has been spotted in Vancouver, in the company of a man 
identified as a Chinese general with ambitions. We believe that he is 
arranging a sale."

"This is Miles," Operations said, finally identifying the newcomer. "He 
works for Section in Asia. He has been sent to consult with us on this 
matter, as he has dealt with Gueben in the past."

*But not very well* was the thought that popped into Michael's mind, 
although he did not let it show on his face. His control was far to good 
for that.

For some reason, this Miles rubbed Michael the wrong way. Michael tried 
to pin it down. The man was good-looking, with dark brown hair and eyes 
that were an unusual pale shade of brown that seemed almost amber. His 
voice was pleasant, not grating. Maybe it was his bearing. The man was 
obviously confident, but there was something in his manner that seemed to 
imply arrogance. In Section, arrogance got people killed. Michael made a 
mental note to keep an eye on the man while he was here.

Operations turned to him. "Michael, you are in charge of this operation. 
Find Gueben. Do whatever is necessary to bring him in alive."

Miles frowned. "Sir, since I have more knowledge of the man..."

Operations froze Miles with a quirked eyebrow. "I said, Michael is in 
charge. Do you have an objection?"

Miles might be new to the area, but he obviously understood the challenge 
in the older man's voice. "No, sir," he replied, projecting submission to 
the pack leader.

"Good. You will consult with Michael on how best to proceed."

With that, he was gone. Miles turned to Michael, and for a moment 
something resembling anger flashed through his eyes, although he hid it 
skillfully.

"Where were they seen?" Michael asked, not bothering to acknowledge the 
obvious friction. He was acutely aware of Madeline's continued presence 
in the room. Besides, how the man felt was of no importance, as long as 
he did the job.

"At a night club, Over the Rainbow. It caters to an older and wealthier 
clientele."

"How many times?"

"Three times, so far, twice with the general, once on his own."

Michael nodded. Three times implied a pattern, so the man might show up 
again. "Birkoff," he said, turning. "I want surveillance on the club, in 
case he shows up again. See if you can arrange for cameras inside as 
well."

"Yes, Michael," was the immediate reply.

Miles' attention was immediately diverted. Birkoff's voice was unusual, 
Michael had to admit. It was pitched higher than was usual for a male 
past puberty, but there was nothing childish or effete about it or its 
owner. It was attractive, in an unusual way, as the young man was.

Birkoff was tapping at his portable computer, and so was oblivious to the 
obviously appreciative once-over that he was receiving. Michael, on the 
other hand was not. For a moment his eyes narrowed in anger, but he 
quickly squashed the emotion. He turned to find Madeline watching him 
with a look of intense interest. Michael wondered, for a moment, how she 
saw him or the others. Then he dismissed the thought and went back to the 
matter at hand,

"Madeline, what does your profile of Gueben say?"

The planning session continued.

* * * * *

Birkoff was trying to concentrate on the readouts from the sensors that 
had been planted inside and around the Over the Rainbow, but it was 
difficult when someone was breathing down your neck. The nice thing about 
working in Section was that you rarely *did* have people breathing down 
your neck. You were expected to do your job, and do it well. Mess-ups 
resulted in punishment or cancellation. To survive in Section you had 
better be 'self-motivated'.

Unfortunately, Miles didn't seem to understand this. Every time that 
Birkoff turned around, the man was in his face. He was constantly asking 
question, making suggestions. If he wasn't so obviously high-ranking in 
Section, Birkoff would have told him to get lost. Instead, he was just 
getting frustrated.

And add to that the fact that the man was a toucher. He was constantly 
*touching* Birkoff. Hands on the shoulders, as he watched the monitor 
from behind Birkoff. A hand to the small of the back if he was following 
Birkoff out of a room, as though the younger man had to be guided in the 
right direction. And when he was pointing out something with the mouse, 
he didn't wait for Birkoff to relinquish it. Instead, he dropped his hand 
on top of Birkoff's and used it that way. Birkoff just wished that he'd 
find someone *else* to touch, because it was getting downright annoying.

"Birkoff, I'd like a report. In my office." Birkoff looked up to see 
Michael standing there. He was a little surprise that the man wanted his 
report elsewhere, but he wasn't going to object.

"Of course," he replied, getting to his feet. As he walked away from his 
console, Miles was right on his heels. A level gaze from Michael, though, 
was enough to stop the man in his tracks.

As he followed Michael down the hallway, he gave a sigh of relief. 
"Thanks, Michael," Birkoff said, not bothering to explain why. The quirk 
of the lips said that Michael understood.

"What has come through on Gueben?"

Birkoff sighed. "Nothing on his usual aliases. Nothing on the name he 
used to make his reservations at the club either. Either he's using cash 
only, or a new alias, or he's staying with a 'friend'."

"Fine. It looks like the club is our only chance, then. The team will be 
stationed at the hotel across the street. As soon as Gueben shows up, 
alert us. We'll take him from there."

"Will Miles be going with you?"

"Yes."

Birkoff breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. He doesn't seem to think I know 
how to do my job."

Michael gave a small snort. "That is not the problem."

Birkoff frowned at him, waiting for the man to elaborate. At least 
Michael didn't make him wait long.

"Miles is attracted to you."

Birkoff felt his jaw drop. "What?"

But Michael was already gone. Birkoff shook his head, and headed back to 
his station. This was getting ridiculous.

* * * * *

"Michael. Gueben just arrived."

"Understood."

Michael turned back to his dinner companion. Nikita looked quite 
stunning in the short, black sheath-dress. Diamonds sparkled from her 
ear-lobes, and her make-up was impeccable, if a little more subdued than 
she usually used for nights out. She had been the focus of almost every 
eye since they walked into the club. As soon as Birkoff had seen Gueben's 
alias in the club's reservation computer for that night, he had placed 
Michael and Nikita on the reservation list as well.

"Gueben is here. See if you can get him to follow you to the back hall."

Nikita nodded. They waited until the man had been seated, and ordered his 
meal. Then Nikita got up, and walked towards the back hallway, where the 
washrooms were. As she approached Gueben's table, she gave him a sultry 
smile, then wiggled her trim rear as she went past. After a moment, the 
man got up to follow. Michael shook his head. It was amazing how even the 
most hardened of criminals could be so easily lead around by their prick.

And it was as simple as that. Once he was out of view, Miles and the rest 
of the team grabbed Gueben and hustled him out the back door of the club. 
Nikita returned to her seat, with no one the wiser, and she and Michael 
finished their meal. Then they left, arm in arm.

* * * * *

Birkoff was in the data room when the team returned from Vancouver. 
Gueben had no doubt already been delivered into Madeline's not-so-gentle 
hands. Birkoff spared a shudder for the man. He'd seen the profiler work 
before. Gueben might deserve death, but he was probably going to be 
begging for it before she was done.

Behind him, he heard the door swoosh open. "I'll have my final report for 
you in a little while, Michael," he said, not turning around.

"I'm sure that your diligence is appreciated," was the dry reply. Birkoff 
quickly suppressed a wince. It was Miles.

"Section *expects* diligence," Birkoff said, not turning around. He hoped 
that Miles would get the hint, and leave him to his work. Unfortunately, 
Miles did not seem to appreciate subtlety.

* * * * *

"Michael, could I talk to you?"

"What is it, Nikita?" Michael said, heading down the hallway. The 
computer said that Birkoff was in the data room, and he wanted to see if 
Birkoff's report was ready yet.

"It's about Birkoff."

"What about him?"

Nikita grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned towards her. "There are 
rumors that the two of you are... lovers."

"Rumors? Section does not approve of people spreading rumors. Who has 
been talking?"

Nikita almost snarled at that. "That isn't important. Is it *true*?"

"Nikita," he said gently. "Would it matter?"

"Yes."

"You should not let your emotions get in the way. You know as well as I 
do that Section not like liaisons between field operatives."

"But Birkoff isn't one, so that makes it all right? Jurgen..."

"Your relationship with Jurgen was allowed for a specific purpose. As 
well, he considered himself above the rules that other operatives must 
live by. Do not make the mistake of thinking that you are. You saw the 
price."

Nikita winced. Michael did not like reminding her of that incident, but 
it was necessary. She had chosen to look elsewhere, so she should not 
criticize him for doing the same. Besides, she brought him up first.

"Michael..." she started, in a plaintive voice.

"No, Nikita. My personal life is just that. Do not press."

Emotions flashed across the blonde's face. Anger. Pain. Jealousy. Regret. 
Finally, she nodded and turned away. Michael watched her go, hoping that 
this would not provoke her into doing something that would get her in 
trouble with Operations or Madeline. He did not want to lie to her, but 
it really wasn't any of her business.

He turned around and headed towards the data room again. Sleeping with 
her, that once, had been a mistake. One he never should have made. One 
that he did not plan to repeat.

* * * * *

"I've found a rather good restaurant nearby, Birkoff. Allow me to treat 
you to dinner. In thanks for the excellent job you did last night," Miles 
added.

"I'm not big on restaurants," Birkoff said, carefully ignoring the man as 
he continued with his work. He had finally managed to trace the Chinese 
general that Gueben had met with. He was now locating the man, so that a 
team could deal with him and whatever Gueben had sold him. A hand landed 
on his shoulder, the thumb caressing along the collar-line of his shirt. 
He moved away, not bothering to even pretend that it wasn't to get away 
from the touch.

"Well then, we could always try something... else," the man said, 
following him. Birkoff was beginning to think that he was never going to 
get the hint. He decided to go for blunt.

"I'm not interested."

The man frowned for a moment. Then his expression changed to a 
condescending smile. He stepped towards Birkoff, who kept backing up 
until his back hit a wall. The man promptly planted a hand on either side 
of his shoulders, fencing him in.

"I think I can change your mind, pretty boy."

Before Birkoff could respond with an angry shot, Miles had further pinned 
him to the wall with a kiss. He pressed his body against Birkoff, showing 
just how aroused he was. He pressed his tongue between Birkoff's lips, 
obviously intent on plundering the young man's mouth.

Birkoff promptly tried to bite it off.

* * * * *

"Michael!"

Michael stopped with a sigh. He turned around again. "Yes, Walter?"

"About Birkoff..."

Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He turned around and started 
walking again. Walter was right beside him. It looked like today was the 
day for everyone to confront him. "Yes?"

"Hurt him, and you'll find your weapon jamming at the wrong moment." The 
man's face showed an expression as cold as the arctic.

Michael stopped at the data room's door. At least Walter was a little 
more direct, on the subject, than Nikita.

"Walter, I have no intention of hurting Birkoff. "

"Just as long as we understand each other. Birkoff can be a little... 
naïve at times."

"I assure you, Birkoff is quite capable to take care of himself."

Before Walter could answer, a scream came from the other side of the door.

* * * * *

Miles screamed, loud and high, when Birkoff bit into his tongue. He 
jerked away, blood pouring from his mouth.

"Why you little..." he spluttered, raising a fist, obviously not taking 
the rejection very well, to put it mildly.

Birkoff ducked under the blow, and placed a well-aimed knee in the other 
man's groin. The man screamed again as he went down. It was almost 
interesting, how high the man's voice could go.

There was a gasp from the doorway. Birkoff turned to find Michael and 
Walter standing there, both with surprised expressions on their faces.

Birkoff took a deep breath, a brushed a hand across his lips. It came 
away with a smear of blood across the back. For a moment, he met 
Michael's eyes, and had to fight the urge to blush. Then he looked at 
Miles, who was pulling himself to his feet.

"Thank you for the invitation, but the answer is still no."

Miles had made it to his feet, and glared at each of them. He looked like 
he wanted to hit someone, but thought better of it. With a last, vague 
snarl, he left the room.

As soon as he was gone, both Michael and Walter were at his side. "Are 
you all right?" Michael asked, holding his face still so that he could 
check that Birkoff was unhurt.

"I'm fine. It's all his."

"What happened?" Walter sounded almost murderous.

"He made an invitation, I said no, he tried to stick his tongue down my 
throat, I bit."

Michael's lips quirked. Walter stared, then snorted. Soon he was 
laughing. Birkoff tried to resist, but he was soon snickering along with 
Walter. Then he thought of something that cut off the laughter.

"Is this going to get me in trouble?"

"Don't worry," Michael said. His expression hadn't changed a bit, but the 
room temperature had dropped significantly. "Miles will not be bothering 
you again."

Birkoff didn't miss the measuring gaze that Walter shot the agent, but 
the armorer seemed to accept what he saw, and relaxed.

* * * * *

Michael knocked at Operations' office door. "May I speak to you, sir?"

The grey-haired man looked up, and closed the file he was looking at. "Of 
course. Come in. What is it, Michael?"

"I was wondering how long Miles will be here."

"He requested a permanent transfer, this morning. Considering how well he 
performed on this mission, I'm inclined to grant it."

"I do not think that would be wise."

Operations frowned. He rarely liked having his judgment questioned. "And 
why is that?" he asked, displeasure coloring in his voice.

"He has been making advances on Birkoff. Birkoff had to resort to 
violence to get away in the data room just now."

"I see. I will consider that. Is that everything?"

"Yes sir," Michael said, and left the room.

* * * * *

Operations linked into the security system, and played back the 
surveillance tape from the data room. He frowned, as he watched the 
foreign agent make moves that were obviously being rejected. He noted 
with satisfaction how well the young computer expert handled himself in 
the situation.

As soon as he was done, he pulled out the request form, and marked it 
rejected, although he doubted that the man would still be wanting the 
transfer. However, he wanted to talk to Madeline. There something else 
was bothering him, considering what had happened *after* Miles had left 
the data room. Something he'd been wondering about for a while.

* * * * *

Birkoff looked up as the door to his quarters opened, and breathed a 
small sigh of relief when he saw that it was just Michael. "Well?" he 
asked, still a little worried.

"Miles has requested a transfer to Section One. I suggested that it not 
go through. It will be up to Operations to make the final decision, but I 
think he will go along with my suggestion."

Birkoff felt a little of the tension drain. "Good."

"I also was approached by both Nikita and Walter today."

Birkoff looked up, suddenly feeling suspicious. "About?"

"Your relationship with me."

"And?" Birkoff asked, blood draining from his face.

"And I told them that it did not concern them. Walter seems satisfied. 
Nikita is still a little... upset, but she will have to deal with that on 
her own."

Birkoff frowned, looking at the wall instead of Michael. "The easy 
solution would be to end things now."

A long silence answered him. Birkoff waited, not willing to look to see 
what Michael's reaction was, assuming that the man would *show* a 
reaction.

"Yes, it would be."

Birkoff gave a small sigh. It was what he expected to hear. Then he felt 
Michael move into his personal space.

"But... I don't want to."

Birkoff looked up, frowning. Michael's face wore its usual impassive 
mask, but for a moment he could almost swear that there was a softness to 
the normally ice cold eyes.

"You don't want to?" For a moment Birkoff wondered if he'd misheard. He 
couldn't have been more surprised if Michael had shown up on his doorstep 
with a bouquet of roses and flowery declarations.

Instead of answering, Michael pulled him to his feet and kissed him.

It was a very different kiss from Miles. Miles had tried to dominate, not 
caring about Birkoff or his feelings in the matter. While Michael's kiss 
was just as hard, it seemed like it was inviting participation, instead 
of forcing it. Birkoff promptly responded.

When the kiss ended, it took Birkoff a few moments to regain his senses. 
When he did, he was alone in the room, the taste of blood in his mouth 
now replaced by Michael's flavor. He shook his head, trying to clear his 
thoughts. Something had just happened here. He just wasn't sure what it 
was.

His... relationship - if you could call it that - with Michael was a 
strange one, resulting from Gail dumping him for a field operative. She'd 
quickly changed her mind, but by then it was too late. It had taught him 
not to be so trusting of what a lover told him, since she had lied about 
why she wanted to stop seeing him. In a way, that had been a good thing. 
It had also prompted Madeline to throw him and Michael together, although 
he still wondered what her angle in all of this was. She never did 
anything without a hidden purpose.

The other thing that it had taught him was not to put too emphasis on a 
relationship. With Gail, he had fooled himself into thinking that he was 
in love. With Michael, he could let it be just sex. Sure, there was 
caring and a certain amount of mutual respect, but he wasn't about to 
start imagining settling down in a suburban home with a dog and mortgage 
and 1.5 kids, all safely tucked behind a white picket fence.

So why did he get the feeling that Michael was changing the rules?

* * * * *

Instead of going home, Michael went to the Section gym. After a brief 
warm-up, he stepped to the center of the room, empty at this time of the 
night, and grounded himself. Then he moved into the first movements of a 
basic kata.

For the next hour, he moved through all of the katas that he knew, 
working his way from the easiest up to the most difficult. By the time he 
was done, he was dripping with sweat. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, 
he headed for the showers.

Unfortunately, the exercise hadn't stopped his thoughts from going in 
circles. The fury that he'd felt, realizing what Miles had tried to do, 
worried him. Birkoff was an adult who could take care of himself, and 
he'd proven that quite emphatically that day.

Closing his eyes under the hot spray, he did something that he usually 
avoided. He pictured his family, the one that he'd lost so many years 
ago. Strangely enough, he no longer felt the pain that had haunted him 
since their deaths. Instead he felt... peace. It was such an unusual 
occurrence that it took him a few moments to realize what it was.

Pushing aside the introspection, Michael washed, quickly and efficiently. 
The more he considered it, the less he was inclined to ask Madeline to 
stop pushing him and Birkoff together. Their arrangement provided them 
both with a necessary physical release, and Birkoff would not push for 
the kind of commitment that Michael was not willing to make, even if 
Section would have allowed it.

No. Things were fine the way they were.

* * * * *

"Madeline."

The profiler looked up from her screen to see Operations standing at her 
doorway. "Yes?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd like to talk to you about Michael."

She closed the file she was reading, and waved for him to take a seat. 
Quietly, she locked the door behind him, so that they wouldn't be 
disturbed.

"What about Michael?"

"I notice that he's been spending a lot of time with Birkoff, lately."

"Yes. I've been encouraging it."

"Have you also been encouraging them to become involved sexually?"

"Yes."

He blinked in surprise. He had obviously not expected her to admit to it. 
"Why?" he asked, bluntly.

Madeline steepled her hands together, as she collected her arguments. 
"Since the start, we have discouraged Field operatives from developing 
personal attachments. Among support personnel, it was not a problem, 
since they were not critical to a mission. However, field personnel could 
not afford the... distractions."

"Yes, yes," Operations said in an impatient tone. "So why are you 
breaking that rule now?"

"I want to see if it's true," She said bluntly. "I want to see what the 
effect of a personal relationship would have on a field operative."

"Why Michael?" The man sounded indignant. After all, Michael was his 
example of the perfect operative. He was also the person that Operations 
intended to have succeed him as head of Section One.

"Because he is the least likely to be negatively affected. If there are 
positive effects on his performance, I will expand the test. Otherwise, 
the contact will be terminated, and the experiment as well."

Operations gave a slow nod, accepting that argument, for now. "Why 
Birkoff?"

Madeline paused for a moment. "There are a number of reasons for choosing 
Birkoff. First, he is not a field operative. While it might be useful for 
Field operatives to be paired off, it would be dangerous to let them pair 
off with each other. There would always be the possibility that lovers 
would be on the same operation, which would be hazardous, as they might 
be more focused on protecting each other than the operation. Secondly, 
since they are both males, there is no risk of pregnancy, or even the 
desire for a pregnancy." Which was a good thing, she reflected, since 
female operatives were routinely sterilized, although they were not 
informed of that.

"What about jealousy?"

"Birkoff has already proven himself able to deal with that. His reaction 
to finding out that Gail was seeing someone else was perfectly correct, 
even when the man deliberately baited him. While he was upset, 
afterwards, it did not affect his work at all, although being celibate 
almost did. I brought Miles in to test Michael. I knew that Birkoff was 
exactly the type of person he pursued. Michael's work was unaffected by 
jealousy, or rivalry. His reaction to the incident in the data room 
earlier was also completely proper. He passed that test. Have you decided 
about Miles' transfer request?"

"Michael suggested it be refused, based on his behavior."

"Actually, I think you should grant it. His presence would be useful in 
the experiment."

Operations frowned. She knew that her request was potentially disruptive 
to Section One, but it would be useful in determining Michael's reaction 
to a continued rival. 

"No," he finally said. "I do not want to deliberately encourage 
disruptions of Section operations. And what of others? Nikita, for 
example."

"Nikita... is showing signs of jealousy. However, she has done nothing to 
suggest that she will allow it to change her performance. There is a 
danger, but there has always been a danger of jealousy, and not just of 
relationships. We already separate operatives who show the signs, so that 
it does not endanger missions. If separation does not work, the operative 
is canceled. That will not change."

"And Nikita?"

"Michael has suggested that Nikita's performance, during his injury, 
shows that she is ready to head her own team. I concur."

"And giving her a team of her own will effectively separate them."

"Exactly."

"Very well. Do it. And in the future, keep me appraised of your... 
experiments. I would have preferred to know about this one ahead of time."

Madeline nodded. "Of course."


THE END