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"We're finished." Nikita's words and combined expression of determination and disgust played over and over in Michael's mind. Three weeks ago, he had stood over her bed, kissed her gently and had tried to let her know that not everything he had said in the cages was a lie. Naturally, she hadn't heard him.

Now, after the Sections' doctors felt she was well enough to be home, Michael stood outside her apartment door, wanting to go in. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to explain why he had done the things he had done. Most of all though, he wanted her to know that he really did care. He wanted her to know the truth.

Michael took a deep breath then knocked on the door.

The door opened but was stopped abruptly by the door chain. One blue eye glared out suspiciously. "What do you want Michael? Operations said I would get one more week of rest. Why are you here?" Her voice, once light and teasing, was now dark and angry. She sounded impatient and bothered. She was angrier than he thought.

"Nikita, please let me in. I want to talk to you."

Nikita closed the door. Michael raised a hand to knock again, but the door quickly opened and she stood there, hands on her hips, facing him fiercely, and she hissed, "Why should I? So you can lie to me some more? So you can tell me how the only part of you that isn't dead is me? Yeah right." She was breathing heavily and her last words were spat out, "Just . . . go . . . away." She slammed the door in his face, but not before Michael could see tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. He bowed his head, defeated before he even began.

From inside the apartment, he could hear loud pounding music. He turned to go. As he did, the door opposite him opened. A tall bronze skinned girl stood there. She was wrapped in a blue bathrobe and she looked sleepy. As well she should be, Michael thought. It *was* two in the morning.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" She eyed him warily, appraising him. Michael frowned, hearing Nikita's words thrown at him again.

"Go back to sleep." He answered her tiredly. The music inside Nikita's apartment died.

The door behind him opened suddenly. He felt Nikita brush past him as she went toward the girl. Nikita put an arm around her and gently steered the girl back to her door.

"Sorry about the music Carla, I'll turn it down."

Carla looked at Nikita, then glanced at Michael before saying "Okay, but is this guy bothering you?"

Nikita gazed at Michael, and Carla followed suit. Michael shifted uneasily as the two women glared at him.

Nikita laughed lightly before saying, "No, he's no bother, not anymore. Go back to sleep."

"Well, if you're sure." Carla stared at Nikita with questioning eyes.

"Yes, we're fine." Once again, Nikita pushed her gently to her door.

"Okay, well good night then," Carla responded with a question still in her voice.

"Good night," Nikita said firmly as she locked eyes with Carla. Michael noticed a connection between them. He hadn't realized how close Nikita had become with her neighbor. The door closed behind Carla with a soft thud. Nikita stared at the door and spoke to Michael without turning to face him.

"My friend is still safe, right? I mean now that she's seen you, is that okay?" She genuinely sounded worried. Michael was stunned.

"God Nikita, what kind of monster do you think I am?" When she didn't answer, he took the opportunity to go into her apartment, now that the door was wide open. She obviously heard his movement because she rapidly followed, and extended her arms and tried to keep him from going in. Michael easily pulled loose and walked through the opening.

Resigned, Nikita sighed and followed him. She shut the door behind her. She watched him walk over to the small table in her "dining room." He leaned against the table. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. With characteristic politeness, Michael began.

"Thank you for letting me in. Now we can talk."

Nikita threw her hands up in the air. She walked over to the red couch, plopped down and fixed a cold gaze on him.

"I didn't *let* you in. But since you are here, and since I'm too tired to forcibly remove you, I'll graciously listen to some more lies." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. The tears he saw in her eyes, just moments before, were gone. Instead he saw a glittering hate reflected there. It disturbed him to realize that that hate was meant for him.

Michael took a deep breath. "Nikita. I swear I'm not here because Section sent me. I am here of my own volition."

"Oh reaally?" She dragged the word out. "I thought we didn't have free will. Isn't that what you told me Michael?" She challenged him with her bitter tone and icy stare.

Michael shook his head and walked toward her on the couch. She was making this so hard. "No Nikita. I mean yes, I said that. But here and now, I came to tell you the truth. I swear." His eyes beseeched hers. His voice was low and desperate. "Believe me." He pleaded with her. He stopped in front of her and looked intently at her face, trying to read the emotions there.

Nikita threw back her head and let out a harsh laugh. "Give me a break Michael! I know you have some hidden agenda." Her voice softened dangerously, "You always do." She looked at him, as if daring him to continue. When he didn't, she spoke. "Why are you just standing there? Aren't you gonna turn on the stereo, play some romantic music for me? Aren't you here to seduce me Michael?" She taunted him. "What's stopping you? Some newly found sense of nobility?"

Michael thought about the all the days he had gone to the medlab while she was still unconscious. He thought about that first night, when he had told her the truth. It made him angry that she wasn't even giving him a chance now. "Nikita, not everything I tell you is a lie."

This just seemed to incense Nikita more. She rose up from the couch and stood directly in front of him. Her eyes blazed furiously as she shouted.

"That DOES NOT matter! How am I supposed to know the lies from the truth Michael? Is it some kind of Section trick I don't know about yet? Does Birkoff know the difference? Does Walter? Because I sure as hell don't!" She wilted then, seeming drained from the exertion of yelling. She shook her head and her eyes softened as she pleaded with him now.

"Michael, just go away. I don't want to hear any more soft words from you. I'm tired of being disappointed. I can't take it anymore." She fell back on the couch and she crossed her arms over her eyes.

Michael looked down at her, suddenly furious. He shouted back, just as angry. "Do you think I like lying to you all the time!? Do you think I have more of choice than you? What makes you think you are the only one being manipulated Nikita? You are so selfish! It's always about what happens to YOU! You are not the ONLY one suffering."

Nikita started to cry then -- huge gulping sobs came out of her. She cried out, "Go away. . . I don't have to listen to this."

Michael knelt in front of her and grabbed her arms. Her head fell limply to her chest. She silently shook it back and forth as if trying to deny what he said. "Yes you do have to listen. I hate being lied to as much as you." He forced her chin up and made her look him in the eyes. She looked numb and tired, but she was listening. He took a deep breath before lowering his voice.

"Don't you think it bothers me to see you suffer? I was at the medlab every day till you regained consciousness. Doesn't that count for something?" Michael was shocked to see her resigned expression change to rage.

"Don't you get it Michael?" She jerked away from his hands and stood up, pushed past him and stood behind the low coffee table.

"Listen to yourself! Till I regained consciousness! How am I supposed to know anything if you aren't there when I'm awake? All I knew, when I woke up, is that you were NOT there." She glared down at him, sobs gone, and a gritty deepness was in her voice now.

"So now you're telling me you were there all the time I was unconscious. So what! So what Michael! That counts for shit! Shit! I'm sick of this, I'm sick of you! Get out now!" She pointed to the door, her voice rising hysterically on the last word.

Michael knelt unmoving as he gazed up at her sadly. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't. His silence and stillness seemed to enrage her more.

Her whole body shook as she strode toward him. She reached down to his shoulders and hauled him up. He stood up reluctantly. She pushed at him, grunting with the effort. He refused to budge. Nikita gasped as she pushed at him.

"Go Michael, go away, get out, I don't want to hear any more." As the futility of her efforts dawned on her, she weakly fell in a graceless heap at his feet. She lay her head down on the floor and felt a thousand silent tears sliding across her cheeks.

Michael looked down at her and an unbearable wave of shame washed over him. She lay utterly unmoving, except for the heaving of her chest, as her breath struggled to escape in huge gulps. He leaned down and tried to pick her up. When his hands touched her shoulders, her body suddenly came alive and she lashed out, yelling and punching his hands away. She knocked him over, surprising him, and he fell heavily on the wooden floor.

"Don't touch me! Get away!"

Michael backed off immediately. Her hysteria was scaring him. Everything was going all wrong. He had come here hoping to reach some kind of reconciliation. But now, the damage seemed irreversible. He scrambled a few feet away from her. She didn't follow. Instead, she sat, legs splayed out in front of her at awkward angles. Her hair hung in her face and through the tangled strands she watched him. Michael now sat on the floor and his back rested against the side of the breakfast bar. He watched her watching him and for two full minutes they stared at each other, both breathing deeply, neither speaking, frozen by the unspoken words between them.

Nikita broke the tableau by rearranging her position. Michael watched the eerie neon glow of the colored fluorescent lamps playing across her form as she sat up. Nikita folded her legs under her like a small child. She gazed at him thoughtfully, then said,

"Michael, why did you kiss me and dance with me that day in my apartment?" Michael's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Nikita continued, "You know, the day when Eric wanted me to escape Section. Why did you do that to me? Why didn't you just tell me the truth? Why the seduction? Did you do it for kicks? Did you want to see if I'd fallen for you? Tell me, I really want to know." She sounded detached, as if her curiosity stemmed from an outsider's point of view. But in her eyes, Michael could see the anguish and a mute plea for comprehension.

Michael sighed heavily. "I didn't tell you I knew about Eric because I thought you would warn him, and he might have told you lies to make you leave Section. Then you would be dead. Like he is."

Nikita stared right through him and didn't speak. Along with her gaze, Michael felt shivers pass through him. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Nikita spoke then, so softly, he almost didn't hear her. "Dead. Like he is."

"Yes Nikita. I did what I did to save you."

Nikita cocked her head to one side, as if considering this information. The she stared deeply into Michael's eyes. Her face hardened in determination.

"You said you wanted to talk to me. To tell me the truth. I'm listening now. But I'll ask the questions." Michael steeled himself and sat up straighter. He opened his mouth, but Nikita interrupted.

"I want the truth from you Michael, all of it. " Her voice hinted at a desire to believe him. The tremors in it betrayed her eagerness and hope that he would indeed tell her the truth. Michael prayed that he could.

"Okay, ask me." He mustered up the most earnest expression he could and waited. Nikita shuddered once, faced Michael squarely, then began.

"Why are you here? What do you have to tell me?"

Michael didn't answer. Here was his chance. This is what he came to tell her, and now that she was ready and waiting, he couldn't say the words. He swallowed and rubbed his chin. He felt her eyes locked on to him. He looked at her door, the ceiling, the floor, any place except her eyes.

Nikita spoke again, soft and pleading. "Please Michael, I'm waiting. And I'm so tired. So tired."

With a jolt, Michael realized he had to tell her. He came here for a reason and he was going to do it. He moved toward her, nearly crawling to reach her. Nikita watched him and allowed him to lay his hands on her knees once he sat in front of her. He swallowed and knew it was time. After all he'd put her through, she deserved some honesty. With this resolve, the words came tumbling out recklessly and immediately.

"I didn't lie to you in the cages. My only lie was setting you up to reveal the location. Everything else was true. I swear it."

Nikita's eyes misted over and she breathed. "Tell me again."

Michael took her hands in his own and gripped them, as if to strengthen his next words. "You are the only one of us with a soul. I *don't* know what love is anymore, but I know the only part of me that isn't dead, is you. I swear Nikita. Please believe me. We are trapped in this life together, you and I. And I don't want to be alone anymore. I need you." Still holding her hands tightly, he bowed his head.

Nikita watched Michael's head and more tears came and joined the others already staining her cheeks. She loosened her hands and placed them on Michael's bent head. Slowly and tenderly, she massaged his scalp. Michael didn't move, but for the heaving of his chest. His breath came out in ragged gulps. Nikita put a single finger under his chin and raised his face to meet her own.

She looked into his eyes, seeing for the first time, tears that matched her own, coupled with an anguish and frustration only she could recognize. She leaned in carefully and softly kissed his lips. When they separated, she spoke again. "Thank you Michael. I believe you."

Michael felt his reserve of strength suddenly fade away. He slumped over and groped for her hands again.

"Nikita, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I know Michael, I know." She cradled his body against hers, and for the rest of the night, they stayed that way, embracing each other and embracing the truth.

The End