#1

Birkoff stepped from the shadowed corner of the luxurious penthouse apartment and faced...himself, or so it seemed. This was the first meeting of twin brothers since birth.

Jason and Seymour stared at one another wordlessly, at once frightened, fascinated, curious. That Birkoff had some knowledge of his twin did nothing to lessen his emotions.

"Who...?"

Birkoff gestured to silence his other self and offered, "I'm your brother, I'll tell you all about it." Jason relaxed marginally then jumped, startled as a knock sounded.

"Expecting someone?"

"No. I'll check the security camera. It's some guy in black, know him?"

"Michael..."

#2

Michael and Adam strolled through the open air market; Adam excitedly bounding from stall to stall and Michael stopping occasionally to carefully examine the produce, choosing only the freshest. It was a most normal outing for a father and son on a sunny afternoon, yet for this duo highly unusual.

Michael was not comfortable in crowds, especially with Adam in tow. Anything could happen, a threat emerge from nowhere, they were both totally exposed.

"Daddy, look who's here." Adam tugged on his father's arm to direct him leftward. Searching the area, his eyes met a most welcome sight.

"Hello Michael."

“Phelps, Lewis – switch to Channel B.”

“I’m here”

“What’s up Davenport?”

“I got word from Madeline that Michael and Nikita should be close to our location. The order from Operations is to stop them by any means necessary.”

“What exactly does he mean? He wants them dead?”

“…..he wants them stopped. Phelps, go east of the parking lot.”

“Roger”

Lewis, go northwest and signal when you see them.”

“On my way.”

“I’m in position.”

“Davenport, they should be in your sight any second."

“Got ‘em”

“STOP THE CAR MICHAEL”

Geez, he’s coming right at me “STOP THE CAR MIC-”

Two pairs of eyes watched the tableaux from above. One pair of eyes glinted icily above a wide grin. The other pair, dark and liquid, blinked sensuously.

Nikita forcefully wrenched her arm out of Michael’s grip, her mouth moving with scathing grace, twisting with anger. Michael’s face was immutable. Walter stood between them, grinning.

“I love you.” Nikita whispered, only her eyes telling Michael how she really felt, despite the look of anger on her face.

“I know.”

“That’s my sugar, you tell him!” Walter grinned even wider.

“Shut up, Walter!” Both lovers shifted grateful eyes to the old man.

"This is never going to work." Operations glanced at Walter, his steely blue gaze instantly penetrating.

"Of course it is." Walter gave back as good as he got.

The two of them stared across the table, waiting for a third opinion. Rewarded by the perfect blank stare, Michael responded in kind.

"I agree with Walter. We can do this."

Operations let out a disgruntled sigh. "OK, everyone lay their cards on the table."

Three winning poker hands appeared.

Walter beamed. "Toldja I could do it."

Michael and Operations exchanged looks.

"Profiles are on your panels. We leave in one hour."

“The directive decreased your performance levels more than your relationship ever did,” said Madeline calmly, making eye contact with Michael, stoic as ever, and an utterly startled Nikita. “Our choices were to cancel one of you, or simply allow you to be together. Our recent losses made the first choice impractical. You two will move-in together immediately, for efficiency.”

They nodded at her with dazed expressions, and left her office abruptly.

Madeline contacted Paul immediately.

“And?” he looked at her with a wry expression from her monitor.

“As I expected. Reverse psychology has always worked well with them,” she answered smugly.

“Sugar, You look like hell.”

“Thanks. Love you too.”

“Aw, you know what I meant. Mission in Karakas that bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Nikita, my office. Now!”

“What’s got him wound so tight?”

“I went off profile on second mark.”

“Yeah, he hates that.”

“I thought he’d hate being dead more. I was wrong.”

“Better get your pretty backside to his office.”

*****

A knock.

“Come.”

“Michael, I…”

“You don’t break profile, ever.”

“Not even to safe your life?”

“Especially not to save my life.”

“I refuse to watch you die. Even if it is what you want. I can't do that.”

“There’s not much time,” Michael whispered.

“Kiss me,” Nikita replied in corresponding tone.

Weeks of constant longing and sleepless nights spent worrying for the other’s safety while on separate but equally dangerous missions were rewarded with intense and unremitting kisses.

There wasn’t time for much else. Like teenagers, stolen moments of passionate kissing would suffice.

Protective armor insulated and obscured the warm, needy flesh beneath. Lips, tongues and gloved hands explored and conveyed their mutual yearning.

Minds appreciated the perfection of the moment and what could be – if only.

“Michael, hostiles approaching,” Birkoff alerted.

Lips released. Lovers vanished. Operatives returned.

“She still lacks perspective,” Operations growled. The dust had barely settled on the incinerated Section, but their new location had less space so they were already discussing borderline operatives. “And still rebellious.”

“Yes,” Madeline didn’t disagree with his assessment. “But she’s also still useful.”

“Against Michael,” Operations sighed wearily.

“And Birkoff and Walter as well,” Madeline reminded.

“They don’t know me at all,” Nikita smirked, hidden from view. “And they have no idea what’s coming.” Her grin faded as she realized she better make sure her friends were out of the line of fire when Center came down on Section.