The first snow of the season had started to fall in the darkness and continued as she walked the long way home. The freshly falling flakes felt cool against her face as they quickly clung to her lashes. She held her cupped hands up to her lips and blew some warm air into them before pulling the collar of her coat together, leaving her cold hands exposed.

She had started her walk in the early evening, before a gloomy veil had covered the sun. She hadn't worn her usual gloves and hat, or taken a scarf, for the need to feel fresh air on her face had been urgent. She had grabbed her coat and purse and left her apartment. She had no destination in mind as one foot preceded the other, over and over again. It was with no great surprise when she finally looked up and the building that contained his roomy loft loomed ahead.

She was surprised that she had covered the five mile distance in such a short period of time. Had it been a short period of time? Maybe. It was dark now. It had started to snow. She wasn't sure. Minutes, hours, days, months, years. They all ran together. To the next, to the next, to the . . . . It didn't matter. Time wasn't very important to her anymore.

She hid in the shadows of a nearby building, and waited. For what? She had no idea. For a glimpse of his shadow to move across the softly lit window? For the light to go out, so she could imagine his footsteps as he headed toward his bedroom?

She remembered a time not long ago that she had stood guard for him, on a cold dark night. Maybe it was a long time ago. Sometimes forever had to be lived in a moment, and at other times, a moment was too long.

A seemingly long time passed, as the light from his window, softly shining through the snow, held all of her attention.

She felt like a snow-covered statue which stood in a town's square, that no one touched or even noticed anymore. Through all the seasons, it was beaten by wind, rain, sleet and sun. It had no life. She had no life. Only she wasn't as lucky. It had no life, but it had no heart, no feelings. The walls of Section had grasped her heart and pressed her life's blood from it.

She heard the creak of a door open, then slam shut. Her eyes quickly searched the entrance to his building. There was no one. She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God. Was it him? Did I miss him?" Her visible breath the only witness to her spoken words. She was on the verge of tears. " What am I doing?"

The purpose of her walk had been to get away from her memories, that threatened to crush her sanity, and beat her heart to death.

"Let's go home," she whispered softly as she'd turned and started the long walk home.

Her soft slippers noiselessly made their way to their bedroom. To Their bed. It was the only place that brought her comfort now. The cruelest place her shattered heart could be. She climbed into bed, sat on her knees and faced his pillow. With both hands she carefully pressed a fresh indentation, where his head should be. She drew away from it and wanted to beat it with her fists. " Why the hell don't you stay like that?" She screamed at the vacant pillow. She was filled with rage. As many times a day that she would come here, the pillow showed no recent sign that someone had slept there, that someone had loved there, that someone . . . . She couldn't finish the thought for her dry sobs threatened to choke her. It was a mockery of their love, plain and simple, like everything and everyone else.

She laid her head down on her own pillow and reached her hand over and laid it on the center of his. Every time she had done this, she was confused as to what she should do. She desperately wanted to rest her head on the pillow where his head had lain, but was afraid she would disturb the scent of him. It was an important decision, and one that she agonized over again and again. She quickly moved to her knees again, and pressed her face briefly into his pillow, making certain that she could still smell him. She smiled as she lifted her face from it. Momentarily satisfied, she laid back down on her side of the bed. Could it be that his smell was all in her mind? Maybe it's just my imagination, playing tricks on me, she thought as panic started to overcome her senses.

She was becoming paranoid. She had to try and pull herself together. Isn't that why Section had given her a week of downtime? Her struggle to survive the last few weeks had become harder, rather than easier. Whoever said time heals all wounds, didn't understand the kind of grief that was etched into her heart. For four years she had lived in a world that had caused her great pain. A world that was dark and filled with horror. But the strength and courage she had always found within herself, had even failed her now.

At Section, it was almost impossible for her to be in Madeline's overwhelming presence. She couldn't bear to look directly into her eyes. If she was sure her burning hatred would send her straight to hell where she belonged, she might be able to make the effort. She had tried it once, but the mocking smile on Madeline's face brought the bile to her throat, and it took every ounce of her strength and control not to retch. She loathed her more than the deadliest terrorist. There was a place in hell for her. Nikita prayed there was. She almost laughed when she thought of Operations and Madeline's concern over her compassionate caring nature.

It had been even more difficult watching Michael every day. He was like the tall oak that nearing the end of its season, was preparing for death. He had that withered look, that she had only seen once before. When he had lost Adam. To watch his lips quiver when they dared to steal a glance at each other. His sleepless eyes, haunted. His lips where her heart beat. His eyes where her soul lived.

Every waking minute she was obsessed with her hatred. She was obsessed with her love. She'd tried desperately, for his sake, to concentrate on the deadly missions, that with one careless mistake, could cost him his life. She was terrified she would be the one to make it.

She thought the week of downtime would be a welcomed relief. Instead, she'd had more time to think. She couldn't bear not seeing him, even if seeing him broke her heart.

There was a knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned on her monitor. It was Walter. She touched his kind face on the screen and slowly turned and walked back up the stairs to their bedroom. She couldn't share Michael's name aloud with anyone right now. Not even dear sweet Walter.

Hours later, as she laid in bed, unable to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his robe, she came to a decision. She slid over to Michael's side of the bed, laid her head on his pillow, and curled up under his side of the covers. She felt some of the weight of the burden she had been carrying lift from her heart. She was sorry that she hadn't done this before. She seemed to be thinking more clearly, as if Michael were there reassuring her that eventually everything would be all right.

They were at the bottom now. There was no place to go but up.

She had made it through four lonely years before, she could make it through four more if she had too. Only now she knew much more, than she had known then. She knew that Michael loved her, and although now they could not be together in body, they would never be broken in spirit.

Tomorrow she was going to go grocery shopping, and start to eat right once again. She was going to buy a kitten, and be it boy or girl, she was going to call it Michael. He probably wouldn't like it but he didn't have to know. She might even change the sheets, but not his pillowcase. She wasn't ready for that yet. She'd have to carry her memories in her heart for now. It brought her comfort at last knowing that he would do the same. She had to have faith in Michael's promise. She knew with certainty that they would be together. He would find a way. And someday when he said " Let's go home." It would be with freedom in their hearts.

Just before she fell into a deep peaceful sleep, the ending of a bittersweet love story, long forgotten, came to her mind, as a smile lightly touched her face.

"Why ask for the moon? When we can have the stars."

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