This story is set sometime before the end of Season 3 and after Walk on By (or whenever it was that Steven Wolfe died).

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Chapter 1

Operations stared blandly at the computer image illuminating his face. The hypnotic hum of the computer's eternal engine consumed the damp silence of the desolate Section One. He heard nothing. He saw nothing. In the hollowness of his mind, he focused upon feeling nothing.

"Paul?"

He turned to the sound, involuntarily freed from his tomb of solitude. The light from the computer shone onto her face, giving it an unearthly glow. Did she even know how much he loved her? he mused. He smiled, betraying little more than cordially.

"Yes?" he replied.

"It's late."

"I hadn't noticed."

She looked at him, not unkindly, and then turned to see the face of the computer screen. Her eyes saddened as she looked at the image, though she maintained the same expression.

"Why are you doing this, Paul?"

"I don't know," he whispered honestly.

"Does this help the pain in any way?"

"Not really."

She looked at him thoughtfully. He stared back at her for a moment, enjoying her figure, appreciating this moment of kindness on her part, then turned back to the screen.

"This could definitely be interpreted as a sign of weakness" she commented.

He smiled bitterly. "You think I don't know that? What the hell else am I going to do? It's his birthday."

She touched the back of his neck, just at the bottom of his hairline. "Don't do this."

He shook his head. "He's my son" he whispered wearily. "What else can I do?"

She picked up a PDA laying just next to the computer She punched a few buttons on its surface. She laid the device next to him. "There is another alternative."

He picked it up, then looked at her inquisitively. A faint smile took her lips, which filled him with an unusual sensation. He smiled back reflexively and lifted his free hand to take hers. She accepted it without hesitation. His love for her grew silently stronger. Every unspoken profession of devotion he could have ever made to her echoed in their hearts, transmitted in this silent intimacy. Together, they found peace. She smiled.

Neither spoke for many hours.

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Chapter 2

Michael marched stoically into Section One. His black outline grazed the corner of Nikita's eye. Her body responded, and she rose from her chair to follow him.

"Michael," she called.

He stopped. "Yes?"

His coldness immediately touched all her senses and put them on edge. She held her ground cautiously. "I was hoping we might . . .-" Why wouldn't he stop that stare? " . . . we might go out to dinner later."

He looked away.

She sighed. Why did she even bother? "Or maybe not." She began to walk away.

"Wait." Her hand slid through his fingers as she turned to leave, pulling her back. He traced his thumb along her palm.

She looked down, fearful of being caught in this forbidden gesture.

"Is that a yes?" she asked quietly.

He looked into her eyes softly, expressively. In that way that was so uniquely his, he tried to speak to her in the silent language of his eyes; but the message was so shrouded in duty-bound formality she couldn't decipher an exact meaning. An apology perhaps? I any case, his expression couldn't placate her fraying nerves.

"Why can't you be honest?" she said softly. "I want to trust you, Michael, but you make it so hard-"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, releasing her hand. "I have plans."

She was motionless for a few seconds. "Plans?" she echoed. Then she saw the eyes: they were desire. Desire to say yes, and a duty which forbid it. As always. She nodded.

He turned back to the path to Operations' office and continued walking.

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Chapter 3

Operations was looking at the small screen of a PDA when Michael stepped through the door. He made no acknowledgment of the inferior operative as he entered and waited for instruction. He didn't respond when Michael asked his customary "You wanted to see me?"

He handed Michael the PDA in his hands. Michael accepted it. Operations watched him out of the corner of his eye. Michael's calm demeanor began to crumble as his eyes moved across the small electronic screen. When he raised his eyes again it was to stare at his leader, trying not to let his amazement overcome his professionalism.

"Steven used to go home to his mother every year on his birthday" Operations began staring out of the window nostalgically. "I used to watch them on surveillance satellites every year that way. It made me feel like I was still a part of him, every year, watching him grow." Operations' eyes flickered with pride and sorrow equally. "Yesterday was his birthday."

Michael listened intently.

"Did you know it's been over twenty years since I've touched him?" He looked away. His voiced dropped to almost a horse whisper. "Did you know he died still trying to find me?"

"I'm sorry," Michael said earnestly.

"You realize," Operations continued, "that giving you that file is a flagrant violation of Section protocol. Oversight would be very displeased. I doubt I could justify it to them."

Michael agreed silently.

Operations turned. "I killed the man who took my son away." He paused, with his mouth slightly open, ready to speak, but no words came for a moment. Agitated, he looked out the balcony window, avoiding Michael's eye. "I don't want to be that man to you, Michael."

Michael nodded slowly. "You never were," he said soberly.

Operations gave the slightest nuance of a thankful smile "Dismissed."

Michael stood still for a moment. "Sir."

Operations turned his head.

"Thank you."

Operations nodded.

Clutching the PDA, Michael left slowly.

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Chapter 4

Gentle spring breezes swirled around her, lifting her hair around her face. Mechanically, Elena pulled her long black hair into a twist which she tucked into the back of her coat. She put her notebook down and looked around the park quickly. Her eyes finally found a focus and her muscles relaxed. "Adam! Stay where Mommy can see you," she called

"Okay!" the little voice answered back. He then returned to his business of collecting rocks. He carried a large stone to his collection behind a tree which he had arranged into a small wall encompassing only himself. A pebble knocked harmlessly against his elbow. Adam turned around. His eyes brightened and his mouth opened in a wide smile. The word in his mouth, yet to be spoken, was one Michael already knew. Michael put his finger in front of his mouth.

"Adam," he whispered loudly, "Sssh!"

"Daddy!" his son exclaimed in a excited whisper. His short legs carried him hurriedly over the distance between them. He came into Michael's arms. The sweetest feeling in the world overtook Michael's mind: his son still loved him. He smiled.

"Daddy, how come you're wearing all black?"

Michael almost laughed. "This is what I wear now," he explained.

Adam looked at him, his small face thoroughly confused. "Mommy said you couldn't come back. She said you were with the angels now."

He nodded, remembering how he and Elena used to tell him about heaven, and all the wonderful angels who lived there as they tucked him into bed. The notion that those who went to heaven could never come back had bothered Adam immensely and he feared the loss of his parents. That was as close to the concept of death as Michael and Elena had ever brought their son. Michael thought of Section One, and the truth that one day he would have to leave his son behind. Secretly, after Elena had went to bed, Michael would come back to Adam's bedside and tell him that if Daddy ever had to go to where the angels lived, he would try as hard as he could to find a way back.

"I told you," Michael said, brushing the autumn leaves from his son's clothes, "I would come back."

Adam grinned. "Yup, and you're here and now you can come home again."

Michael shook his head no. "Adam, I can't."

Adam's excited face suddenly calmed and turned into the beginnings of a pout. "What's wrong Daddy?" he asked, his question traced with fear.

"The angels," Michael said slowly. "They can't let me go."

Adam's expression turned more unhappy. "But you have to see my new soccer trophy," he whimpered.

Michael hugged his son again. A sharp pain was forming in his stomach. He almost wished he hadn't let Adam see him. "I belong to them now" he explained. "They can't let me live here with you anymore."

"But who's going to take care of Mommy?" he asked.

Michael ran his hand trough his son's hair. "You will," he said seriously. "You're going to grow up big and strong."

"Like you?" Adam said.

Michael clenched his jaw. It was too much, He nodded at the small face. "Like me." he said finally. Adam came forward again and wrapped his small arms around Michael's neck. Michael took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. In his hand he had a small tack. He clenched his teeth and raised his hand next to his son's neck.

Operations turned his screen off.

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Chapter 5

He blew a trail of smoke from his mouth. This was how it had to be. A hand touched his shoulder. He swiveled around in his chair, although he already knew who it was; who it had to be. He smiled.

"Hello" he said.

"Do you feel better?" she asked.

He looked at the screen contemplatively. "Yes" he said.

Her hand squeezed affectionately. She smiled. "I'm glad."

He looked at her, unsure of what to say. How much was necessary? How much could she handle to hear? Her hand left his shoulder and she turned away, preparing to leave.

"Madeline?"

She turned back.

"Thank you" he said.

She smiled and touched his cheek. No thanks was needed, she knew he was grateful. But he knew she liked to hear it. Again, she turned and began to walk away He got up from his chair.

"Madeline?" he said again.

She turned on her heel. Her expression was open, but questioning.

He took in a breath and held it. "I was wondering" he said pensively, "if you would like to join me for dinner."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. She smiled. "I'd love to." she said.

He smiled as well. He came forward and took her arm. They left the room together.

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Chapter 6

Nikita exhaled her stressful day and entered her apartment. She shut the door and dropped her keys on the counter. Sliding into one of her form-fitting chairs, she tried to relax. Her hand grabbed the remote on the coffee table and absently pushed the button on her stereo system. Music came rolling into the room in waves of beautiful sound. She let its rhythm relax her into near-sleep.

The music stopped.

She opened her eyes. A dark shadow of a man stood next to her stereo. Her smile dropped into a disheartened frown.

"What are you doing here?"

He took several steps closer before he spoke. "I wanted to see you."

She studied him for a long moment; she wondered lazily whether or not she could out-stare him, but the muse passed. She got up from her seat to go to the refrigerator. "You had your chance earlier" she drawled carelessly. "And you didn't take it. So I'm afraid you missed out. Go home Michael." She pulled out an apple from the fridge and took a bite out of its red flesh.

He lowered his eyes, and his body followed as he slumped into a chair. He looked at his hands. "I went to the park today" he said softly.

She cocked her head to the side curiously. Was this part of his urgent "plans" which had kept them apart?

"I saw my son," he said slowly. He looked up at her, as if her eyes would be the only comfort he could entrust with this information. Indeed, they were. "Adam."

She swallowed hard. Her brow furrowed with sudden concern and mild disbelief. "What?" She put down her apple and crossed in front of the chair where he sat with his head down, staring at his open hands.

"I got to hold him in my arms again. He smiled at me and called me 'daddy.'" Michael's head dropped a little lower on the final word. Nikita came even closer to him, standing between his two legs, which supported his haunched upper body at the elbows.

"And do you know what I did?" he said very softly, looking down at his hands again.

"What?" Nikita whispered. His body shook with a fatalist's laugh. It was the silent, black, helpless chuckle of one who doesn't feel like laughing at all. Nikita understood it. "I . . I told him I loved him. That I'll always love him. That he should grow up to be a big so that he can take care of Mommy. And then I . . " His features twisted in agony. " . . . I didn't want him to remember . . . I didn't want him to know about Section . . . so . . ."

Nikita's insides lurched. [He drugged his own child]. A horrible sympathy grew in the center of her soul. She almost wished she could blame him, yell at him for his infidelity to his son. But they both knew the blame lied somewhere else, in the blacker shades of gray which was Section One. She kneeled on her heels and reached eye level with his pale eyes, underneath his bowed head. She placed her hands inside his open ones. His eyes closed, fighting tears. His featured were frozen in grief; he turned away from her.

"Michael" she murmured. She didn't expect to get his attention; she didn't receive it either. It was a sedative. She took one of his hands, raised it to her mouth and kissed his palm. "It's not your fault" she whispered soothingly. His features grew tighter with pain. "Michael" she said again. She liked the sound of his name in her mouth. "He's safe now."

Michael looked up at her. For only the second time in her life, she saw utter vulnerability in his eyes. In many ways, seeing this pillar of stability reduced to rubble was uncomfortable, but at least he was listening.

"You'll be able to know where he is now" she continued. "You'll be able to make sure he's always safe."

His eyes met hers. They carried a silent gratitude he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to express to her any other way. She smiled, innocent of the depth of his indebtedness to her. She kissed his hand again.

"This is a gift, Michael. A wonderful gift. It's a redemption." She paused, and clasped her fingers in his. "He'll always love you, Michael" she added.

He moved his hand closer to his face, pulling her entwined fingers and her face, closer to him. She was so beautiful. He moved their entwined hands to her face as he trailed a finger over her ivory chin. She was the only thing in the world he wanted.

"Love?" he whispered weakly.

She nodded slowly, staring at his mouth. "Yes" she murmured. "Love." He was weak; she could manipulate him to her heart's content. An ethical war suddenly exploded in her mind. Wasn't that what she was doing? No. This couldn't be right.

"Nikita," he whispered.

She smiled. She liked hearing her name released from his lips. Was this more than just appreciation? She couldn't tell.

"Michael" she said. Her eyes closed. She guided his ticklish finger across her jaw line and eventually across the warm flesh of her lips. She didn't see his loving eyes soaking in her features hungrily.

"Is this wrong?" she asked.

He turned his head to the other side, admiring her and her lovely mouth, now under his forefinger. "No" he said.

It was her turn to feel uneasy. "I-"

"Thank you, Nikita" he whispered.

She opened her eyes. "For what?

He shook his head, sleepily. He couldn't say it. It wasn't Adam that was his redemption. He could see that now.

His finger completed its tour of her lips and moved as his mouth met hers. That look in his eyes returned again. It was that soft look of adoration she knew belonged utterly, totally, and only to her. It wasn't wrong. He fell back, letting her mouth follow hers. Her hands traveled up to his neck to keep is mouth close. His arms came around her, pulling her closer.

He didn't need anyone else but her tonight.

The End