This story is set in the episodes following 'Hard Landing' in Series Two.

Prologue

Breathing In

Michael glanced nervously down the corridor before turning back to face Nikita.

"You asked me once what to do, and I said wait. I have a better answer now. Get away from here. Be free again."

"Do you mean it?" she asked, searching his eyes for some indication of where this was heading.

"I mean it. I have a plan. It's not perfect, but it should give us a two day start, maybe more."

"Us?" she questioned, not quite willing to believe the words he had just uttered.

"Yes, us" he murmured, his lips brushing against her cheek.

She looked up, eyes glistening. "You're sure?"

"No" he confessed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure of anything any more." One hand moved to rest against the small of her back before pulling her closer. The other stroked her cheek slowly.

Nikita leaned into his soft caress, amazed to see a look of confusion in his usually impenetrable eyes.

"It won't be easy 'Kita. We'll have to wait until you are released from Level 3." His voice was ethereal, drawing her closer.

She nodded slowly. Unwilling, perhaps unable, to speak. Afraid she might say something to change his mind.

"Can you be patient Nikita? Can you trust me and wait just a little bit longer?" He closed his eyes as he whispered the words.

"I trust you Michael. Whatever it takes." She brushed her lips across his.

"Whatever it takes" Michael repeated, dismissing his surrounds for a brief moment as he tasted the promise of sanctuary in her kiss.

The Fallout

Breathing Out

Nikita slapped her hands against her arms and legs, trying to get the cold out and the circulation back after ten hours on the back of Michael's motorbike. She leant as close as she dared to the bike, trying to absorb some of the heat emanating from the engine. Michael emerged from the office, slipping on gloves and pulling his helmet on. He nodded to her as he slid a leg over the bike and started the engine. As it roared to life Nikita sighed, then threw a leg over the bike, her fingers clutching his hips. It was a short journey this time, mercifully.

Michael held the door open as Nikita stepped into the motel room.

"I'll move the bike" he murmured, dropping their bags and then closing the door behind him as he left.

Nikita looked around. The room was clean, simple, had that 'comfy' look that suggested it was offering shelter back when dinosaurs roamed the streets outside.

Nikita sighed and started peeling off clothes as she traversed the small room, suddenly desperate to get under the shower. With a clunk and a groan water started gushing out of the showerhead as she turned the taps onto full. She dived under, not bothering to wait for it to heat up fully. The sound of the door to their room closing was almost drowned out by welcoming sound of water around her. Enjoying the feel and warmth as it ran over her body. Enjoying the familiarity. But it wasn't real. The fear was hovering, just out of reach for a brief moment, but still there, threatening everything. How could it be real until things started to be different. Different from what though? What was the reality they were looking for? Normal?

Normal. It would have made her laugh under different circumstances. But not now. Now it was a deadly serious. Their survival from here on in would hinge on their ability to coalesce, blend, be overlooked. No back-up, no profile to follow. No voice directing their every move. They were on their own.

Could they be normal? Michael had been in Section for such a long time. Did he even comprehend the notion of normal anymore? Did she?

And what if they did manage to find some way to fit in. What then? The foundation of their relationship was tenuous, to say the least. Could it endure? Suspicion, betrayal, manipulation and enmity, from both without and within, was the norm she had adjusted to. All the essential ingredients of a loving and lasting relationship. It should make her laugh, instead all that came out was a sob. And then another. And another. Company for the tears that streamed down her face. She hugged her arms around her, pushing her face into the stream of water. Water, from within and without, down the drain.

They had done it. Within a heartbeat their lives had been forever changed. Just as they had been going in. This time they were out. And although the fear pressed against her, making it difficult to breathe, she felt something else struggling to get out. Hope? She closed her eyes, directing her face into the stream of water again, whispering the word as though it were a mantra that might protect her, and him.

Him. She sighed and waited, and waited, then sighed, again.

Turning off the water she grabbed a towel, wrapping it loosely around her body. Taking a deep breath she walked out and saw him. Sitting on the bed, gloved hands dangling between his knees, head down. At least he had taken the helmet off.

She knelt in front of him, gently easing the gloves off, rubbing his icy cold fingers to warm them. She looked up into his face, impossible to read what he was thinking. She unlaced his boots, eased them off his feet along with his socks. Standing she placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so he sat upright. She unzipped his jacket, let it fall off his shoulders, then pulled his jumper and tee shirt over his head. Taking his hand she pulled him up, then undid the belt and buttons on his jeans. She slid them over his hips and started to push them down. This action finally brought him out of his stupor. His eyes moved slowly to meet hers, his hands holding hers still.

"I don't know if I can do this, Nikita" he whispered. His body trembled with the emotion that his face continued to deny.

"I know" she replied softly "just breathe." Shrugging his hands off she pulled his jeans down and over his feet.

She took his hand and led him into the bathroom, turning the water on again. This time as hot as she could stand it.

Michael stood, watching their reflections vanish in the in the mirror as it became clouded with steam.

"Just breathe" he said softly, rubbing at the mirror to try and find them again.

"Just breathe" Nikita repeated, pushing him into the stream of water "in, out, just like normal."

Breathing In

"Where's Jurgen?" Operations demanded, glaring at Birkoff.

"He's on his way" Madeline replied calmly. "Why don't we start" she nodded at Birkoff.

Birkoff turned to the computer screen in front of him.

"We've reviewed the surveillance tapes. At Michael's loft we've been able to identify intruders before the security system was disabled. We removed bullets from the walls of the bedroom, they're down in the lab now for analysis. There's evidence of a struggle. The chamber in Michael's gun was expended, the gun was found in the bed. We found blood on the sheets which we have been able to identify as Michael's and two unknowns."

"How much blood? Do we have any indication of the severity of Michael's wound?" Jurgen asked as he entered and took a seat beside Birkoff.

"Negative" Birkoff replied "we're looking into it, but it's unlikely we'll be able to get that level of detail."

"What about Nikita's apartment?" Operations asked.

"Same scenario. We retrieved two tranq darts from the kitchen and verandah, no blood or bullets" Birkoff replied as he pulled up a schematic of Nikita's apartment. "Its difficult to ascertain if there was a struggle, Nikita had been 'redecorating'."

"Fascinating Mr Birkoff" Operations said, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So what you're telling me is two of our agents have been missing for at least five hours and we don't have a clue what has happened to them? What about Michael's clock?"

"Disabled" Madeline said quietly, "as we expected."

"What was Michael working on?" Operations asked Madeline.

"The Helix file. He returned from extracting Pantreagan, yesterday. The mission proceeded exactly to profile." Madeline caught Jurgen's eye, a cold smile on her face.

"Could there have been exposure?"

"Unlikely, it was a surgical. Michael was directing from a rear location and indicated no anomalies in his report."

Operations began pacing slowly in front of his desk.

"Call everyone in, we have to assume we have been breached. Birkoff start a review, I want an analysis of all transmissions and activity for the last 72 hours on my desk within the hour. Jurgen, you'll coordinate retrieval. Review the information coming in and work up some scenarios. This is our priority, everything else on the pad is downgraded until further notice."

Operations turned and stood by his desk, idly flicking through papers as Birkoff and Jurgen left. Madeline came and stood beside him, staring out the window of his office, her eyes moving eventually to Michael's dark office.

"We shouldn't discount the possibility they have engineered this" she said quietly.

"The thought crossed my mind" Operations replied, turning his attention to Birkoff as he made his way to his station. "I can believe it of Nikita, I've always had my doubts about her. Though I don't believe she has the skills or resources to roll it out this way."

"And Michael?"

"Would, of course." Operations removed his glasses, rubbing distractedly at the bridge of his nose. "Do you think he would attempt an escape?" he asked quietly.

"I have no doubt he has considered it, but I find it difficult to believe he would ever act on it. He's been in too long, he knows how difficult it would be for him to function on the outside after all that has transpired. Reintegration would be difficult, he would be at a tactical disadvantage. Michael is a perfectionist, this level of uncertainty, and dependency, would be ... unacceptable"

"Agreed."

"But..."

"But ... what?" Operations snapped.

"As you are aware, there have been inconsistencies in his performance since you ordered Nikita's cancellation."

Operations turned to face her. "You scheduled regular sessions with him over that time. Have they revealed anything useful?"

"No, not really, other than some minor fluctuations in his percentages. With Michael it is always ... complicated. I have noticed an increase in his externalisation of emotion, a minor anomaly. There was an incident with Jurgen yesterday when they returned from the mission. I didn't get a chance to discuss it with him in detail."

"Yes, I watched the tapes you sent. Very strange. Is it likely this incident could be a factor?"

"I think we should keep all possibilities open at the moment." Madeline'e eyes followed Jurgen as he walked into Systems and took a seat next Birkoff.

"Agreed" Operations whispered, then turned to her with a smile. "Breakfast, tomorrow?"

"I don't think I can."

"I'll clear your schedule."

"It's not a good idea, just at the moment."

"Why not?"

"Be patient."

Eyes met eyes. Like ice straining against ice, the groan of the glacier shifting imperceptibly but inexorably forward.

"I'm tired of being patient" he hissed

"Get over it" Madeline announced calmly, before she turned and left.

Hope Emerges (NC 17)

Breathing Out

Nikita rolled to the edge of the bed and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box on the floor.

Balancing the pizza in one hand, she splayed her naked body across Michael's again, wiggling to get into a comfortable position. Michael let out a hiss as her elbow dug into the deep cut below his ribs. His offering for their deliverance.

With a sheepish grin she kissed the wound dressing as she held the pizza in front of Michael's mouth. He took a bite, his teeth locking onto the pizza as his hands moved to cup her bottom. He bit down as his hands pressed firmly into her soft flesh, grinding her hips against his in a circular motion, mirroring the exaggerated motion of his mouth as he chewed. Nikita laughed, then leant forward, running her tongue along his soft, sensuous lips. She kissed her way along his rough chin, then up to the bruise on his cheek and the cut above his eye. With a smile she rested her chin on his chest and took a large bite of pizza.

"Michael" she said, munching loudly, crumbs raining onto Michael's chest. "Will you answer a question?"

"Yes, when you finish chewing."

She grinned and chewed slowly, mimicking his actions, feeling his erection pressing determinedly against her stomach. She gulped down the last mouthful of pizza.

Michael ran his lips down her neck, biting gently, pulling the firm, supple skin into his mouth.

"Why did you fight with Jurgen?" she finally asked.

"Not sure" he murmured, shifting her slightly so he could access her breasts.

"Not sure?" Nikita smiled. "Baloney, you always know what you're doing." She let out a moan as Michael traced the outline of her breast with his finger. "Always" she repeated, whispering the words in his ear.

She reached down between them, hearing his soft gasp as her hand circled his erection, gently stroking, teasing. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes watching her. His hands massaged her back, the rhythm relaxing and maddeningly erotic at the same time.

"Jurgen trained me when I first came to Section" he whispered.

Nikita spread her legs, thighs gripping his hips as she rested her forehead against his.

"You haven't answered my question" she challenged, determined to pick up the thread of their discussion again. The exploration his hands were engaged in made it almost impossible to string a coherent sentence together.

"Maybe I wanted closure" Michael breathed, running his tongue across her lip.

Nikita brushed his hands away, held him in place as she eased herself onto his prodigious erection.

"Closure is important" she whispered, pressing her hands against his shoulders as she moved slowly in response to his leisurely thrusts. "Very liberating" she grinned "very normal."

Michael circled her in his arms then rolled her underneath him. His hips moved slowly against her, patient, deliberate strokes. He gazed down at her, a sly grin stretching his lips.

"I'll miss him" Michael whispered.

"So will I" Nikita replied, returning his smile.

Breathing In

"Run it again, Birkoff. This time include the information Davenport's Team retrieved from the Freedom League site" Jurgen instructed.

"They're only just back, I'll need to download first."

"Whatever, just do it."

Birkoff rolled his eyes and sighed, but did as he was instructed. He keyed in the relevant data, and adjusted the parameters of the program as it ran. Ten minutes later the results were displayed on screen. He turned to Jurgen, trying to keep the "durh, see I told you" look off his face.

Jurgen was making some notes on his PDA when Walter appeared and handed him a disc.

"The results of the blood test from Michael's apartment" Walter announced disinterestedly. "Nothing conclusive, indicates Michael lost a quantity of blood consistent with a non-life threatening wound."

"And the other blood samples?" Jurgen asked.

Birkoff felt a slight shudder pass over his body, like the sensation of fingernails scrapping down a blackboard. That voice was driving him insane.

"The placement of bullets retrieved from the wall in his bedroom and blood samples from the carpet suggest Michael downed at least one of them. The other sample is consistent with blood loss from a flesh wound."

'Birkoff load Walter's data, then run it again" Jurgen ordered.

Birkoff exchanged a quick glance with Walter before taking the disc from Jurgen and slipping it into his computer.

"Is there something else, Walter?" Jurgen asked.

Walter shook his head "no, that's all." He gave a small wave of his hand, as though saluting, then turned and moved back towards munitions.

The program took twenty minutes to run this time. Again, nothing turned up.

Birkoff glanced at Jurgen before turning back to the screen. "Which ever way you run it, the escape scenario is coming back with nothing. I mean, 12%, that might just account for the error in our data."

Jurgen looked at him for a long moment, forehead creased in concentration, a small grin on his face. "Thank you for your perceptive analysis, Birkoff. Run the abduction scenario again with the new data."

Birkoff started the program again. As the numbers started spitting out he rubbed his hands over his cheeks, five days of this was almost more than he could bare. Mercifully it only took ten minutes this time.

"The probabilities are up to 67% with the new data. That's enough to go with." Birkoff chewed distractedly on a nail.

"I'm sure I have enough to go with" Jurgen observed quietly. He was about to say something else when Operation's voice boomed over the intercom.

"Jurgen, I want an update. My office. NOW!"

"Shouldn't take long" Birkoff mumbled as Jurgen stood.

"I sending all teams back out. Start scanning for possible locations, I'll be back in an hour."

"Sure" Birkoff responded as Jurgen stood and walked slowly towards Operations office.

He kept an eye on the others in Systems as he tracked Jurgen's progress up to Operation's office, his fingers seemingly moving of their own volition over the keyboard. With a start he turned and noticed Walter standing next to him, peering at the screen. Birkoff looked down, eye's scanning the data before he quickly erased the results from his screen.

Birkoff exchanged, what he hoped, was a disinterested glance at Walter as he moved off towards his work area.

So there you have it, Birkoff thought, always trust the numbers. The numbers never lie. Except when he wanted them to. Still, the end result was astounding. Abduction scenario 24%. Escape scenario 82%. Could they have escaped? Together?

He substituted the numbers in the program and with a quick glance around headed out to munitions. He found Walter in the back of the cage.

"What do you think?" Birkoff asked softly.

"I think Section can make us believe whatever they want. It's what they're best at."

"But it's possible."

"Anything's possible Birkoff. If you ask me it's another of their little tests. There's no way Michael would run."

"But Nikita might."

"Yeah, maybe. More likely he's dragged her along on some little game he's playing with Madeline and Ops. My advice is to just do your job and stay out of it."

"A bit late for that. It's only a matter of time before Jurgen finds out I changed the parameters."

Walter shook his head and whispered "then don't let him. He's not Michael."

"No he's not" Birkoff agreed with a sigh.

Help Needed

Breathing Out

Michael sat on the floor, totally absorbed in cleaning his gun, skin still glistening with sweat from his frenetic workout.

Nikita sauntered slowly in front of him, dressed only in her underwear, balancing a glass on her head as she practiced head-high kicks. Step, step, kick. Six repetitions to the door. Turn. Back again. Turn. She tried it with her eyes closed, almost feeling the groove she had made in the carpet. The glass tumbled to the floor, bounced once on the soft carpet, the rolled to a stop. She picked it up, standing still as she replaced it on her head. Step, step, step, getting her rhythm back.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't normal" she said, stepping over Michael.

"No" he said distractedly, looking for the piece of cloth he had been using.

He saw Nikita was holding it between her toes, walking outlandishly on her heels, holding her arms out for balance. He shook his head and crawled towards her, grabbing the cloth back and pinching her bottom simultaneously. The glass teetered, then fell. Michael sprang forward and caught it before it hit floor. Lying on his back he grinned and passed it to her. She set it back on her head, stepping with exaggerated movements backwards and forwards over Michael where he lay on the floor.

"What did you do last time?" he asked softly, watching her, brushing a hand up her leg each time she passed.

"I kept moving, so there'd be no time to think, no time to get bored."

"Did you spend much time 'moving' with a glass on your head?"

"No, this is a special treat, just for you."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"How did you pass the time?"

"I don't know. Different things."

"What sort of things?"

"Worked in greasy dinners, shopped for sunglasses, reduced slabs of wood to sawdust in the name of art."

"That sounds normal."

Nikita grabbed the glass and looked down at Michael, shaking her head slowly. He just shrugged in response.

"Spell normal" she ordered, straddling him and sitting on his chest. She carefully balanced the glass on his forehead, then eased herself slowly back to sit against his hips. Michael pulled his knees up to support her back and rested his arms on her thighs.

"s-e-c-t-i-o-n." His voice soft, yet hard as steel.

"Wrong. Try again." Nikita lifted his hand to her mouth, licking one of his fingers seductively before bitting down hard on the soft skin at the base of his thumb. Michael didn't flinch.

"p-a-i-n." Whispered.

"Wrong. Again." She bit down again. The glass stayed put.

"m-i-c-h-e-l-'s p-a-i-n." His blinked, once, slowly. A declaration more cogent than words. She understood, understood too clearly.

Smiling sadly she released his hand, tenderly kissing the imprint her teeth had made.

"You're a hopeless case. Try again" she said softly, running her fingers lightly over his chest. She increased the pressure, seeking out ticklish spots. The glass stayed resolutely in place.

"Us, together" he whispered.

"Close enough" she laughed, reaching down to tickle his feet.

Michael watched her, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth, the glass still resting confidently where she had left it. She leant forward, her hands behind her on his thighs. Her fingers ran slowly down, slipping inside the baggy legs of his shorts. Searching out the treasure the thin cloth shielded, her fingers finally found it and seized it with gusto. He closed his eyes, the grin opening up to a full-blown smile. She removed her hands and placed them on his chest.

"You're not normal" she said, watching the glass as it sat perched easily on his forehead. She reached forward and knocked it to the floor.

"I know" he replied, opening his eyes, "I need help."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Not what, who."

"OK, who did you have in mind?"

"Besides you" he whispered, pulling her down towards him.

"So we're doing this the hard way, huh?" she grinned. Michael just stared blankly at her, all the answer she needed.

"OK then. Who, besides me?"

"A friend" he said softly.

"A 'friend'" she repeated, trailing kisses up his neck. She pulled up for a moment, gently grabbing his chin and holding her mouth just in front of his. "This isn't some sicko guy fantasy thing is it?" she whispered.

"No" he smiled. He tried to move his lips closer but her hand held him pinned to the floor. "Just a friend who can help us" he offered. He felt the pressure in her grip ease.

"A friend who can help ... us ..." she mused, removing her hand and lowering her lips so they brushed against his.

"Yes" he breathed.

"... to be normal?"

"Almost. Normal" he whispered, finally capturing her mouth.

Breathing In

"Anything" Operations snapped as Madeline entered his office.

"Birkoff's running it now. We lost three Operatives, Jurgen is debriefing Mowen's Team."

"Abeyance Ops?"

"Yes."

Madeline sat quietly as Operations paced in front of her.

"How long until we have the analysis?"

"Not long, within the hour."

"It's already been seven days. Will it make any difference?"

"Unlikely. We seem to have exhausted the current line of investigation. Jurgen is never what he seems to be. He reads people, gives them what they want, then destroys them."

"Is that what you think? He wants to destroy me?"

"If you're a hammer, you treat everything as if it were a nail. Jurgen has only one way of seeing the world."

"Thanks for the enlightenment. And are we close to changing his view of the world?"

"Yes, I have a team working on it."

"Good. In the meantime we need to find some leads. I want them back."

"Of course."

"Suggestions?"

"Ask Michael."

Operations stopped his pacing, focussing his full attention on her.

"Explain."

"We are searching for an answer without understanding the question. Jurgen and Birkoff have established that the most probable scenario is abduction. They were taken from different locations, so it wasn't chance. We have established that our systems and directory have not been breached, so it wasn't the start of a strike against us."

"So ... why single out Michael and Nikita."

"Precisely."

"We've established Jurgen can be best used as support. Who else can we draw on?"

"The only other Level Five on active status is Lindell."

"No, he's adequate but it's too soon to put him in charge of a mission of this type."

"Agreed. Mowen or Davenport?"

"Promising, but ... no."

"I could coordinate."

"Yes, but I would prefer you be kept available to deal with ... contingencies, as they arise."

With a nod of understanding Madeline returned the small smile Operations directed at her.

"What about bringing Alison in?" he asked.

"She's working deep cover, collecting intel on a quantity of Semtex we've discovered on the free market. Part of the Anquist profile."

"Can we pull her out without compromising the longer term objectives?"

"I'll run the sims. It should be feasible. She is, of course, more than capable but I have some concerns about her ... objectivity ... if it turns out we are not dealing with an abduction scenario."

"We can work through that eventuality, should it arise."

"Jurgen won't be happy."

"Then he should fit right in." Operations returned to his desk and sat. "I need to call George to confirm."

"I'll leave you to it."

She was almost at the door when Operations spoke again.

"It's late. Bring the sims by my quarters as soon as you're finished."

Madeline turned slowly, a thin smile on her face.

"Fine. Will you need anything else?"

"Maybe. I'll leave that decision up to you."

"Of course" she smiled as she headed back towards her office.

New Perspectives

Breathing Out

Nikita sat bouncing on the bed, television blaring as she watched the idiot game show that Michael had begun watching obsessively. She heard a movement outside the room and dropped down off the bed, gun aimed at the door.

Michael smiled at her as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Spell normal, Nikita."

She grinned, placing the gun on the table as she walked over to him.

"What have you got?"

Michael passed her a bulky envelope.

"This is it? Our help?" she asked, turning the envelope over in her hands.

"Yes" Michael replied, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. He unzipped his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then pulled his boots off.

"You haven't opened it," she observed, jumping back onto the bed. She sat, leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front.

"No, I thought you might like to." Michael climbed onto the bed, resting his head in her lap as he lay down beside her.

Nikita looked down at him, fingers running through his hair, tousling the curls where they had been laid flat by his helmet.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yes Nikita, I'm sure. We have no need for secrets now." Michael shifted so his body was at right angles to hers. Burying his head deeper in her lap, he suddenly felt completely, utterly, exhausted. He snaked his arms around her waist, closed his eyes, breathing slowly.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, noticing the smile growing on his face.

"That we have traded one prison for another, of sorts."

"And that makes you happy?"

"Yes, very."

"You're not normal."

"No, perhaps I never will be, but would you have me any other way?"

Her hand moved from his hair and gently stroked his cheek. She leant down and kissed his forehead.

"No" she whispered, surprising herself that this was the truth. For so long she had wanted to change him, make him into what she thought she wanted. Suddenly she realised that she didn't really know what she wanted, except him.

"They are just words, Nikita. In this prison, all we need is the veneer of normal to survive outside. Inside we can create our own idiom in the world of our choosing. We can simply be us, you, me, whatever that is. This is what makes me happy."

Nikita smiled as she felt Michael's arms tighten around her.

"Just us, you, me" she repeated, testing the words. She slid down on the bed, resting her head on the pillows while she pulled Michael's body closer. He locked a leg possessively over hers, his arms still around her waist as she settled his head against her chest.

She leaned her cheek against his hair, rubbing slowly, so soft and yet so strong.

"Sounds like a dream I've often had" she whispered.

"Sometimes our dreams become real" he whispered in response.

"Yes" she smiled, splaying her fingers through his hair and pulling his head closer to her.

Michael closed his eyes as his head moved in time to the steady rise and fall of her chest. Each breath bringing him closer to absolute tranquility. His cognitive thought faded as his head was filled with the mesmerising rhythm of her heartbeat. Tantalizing, calming. His eyes opened slowly as he registered a change in her movement, the sound of paper tearing and the jingle of something dropping lightly on the bed beside him. With an effort he started to rise but Nikita stopped him, settling back on the bed, pulling him with her.

"What is it?" he mumbled, so relaxed his body seemed to be liquid rather than flesh.

"Keys. Guess these are house keys? A page with a map, directions to a house, it's by the ocean." He could almost hear the smile on Nikita's lips. "Two other sets of keys, BMW stamp, a car and maybe a motorbike? Airplane tickets and two passports with fake names, our photos. A substantial wad of cash, all high denominations, and details for a bank account in your name." He heard the rustle of paper. She pressed her lips against his hair, a finger gently stroking down his forehead to the tip of nose. "And what looks like a list."

"What sort of list?" he asked softly, eyes blinking in time to the slow movement of her finger.

"I think it's our guide to 'normal'."

"Good. That's what I asked for, " he mumbled, voice sleepy and low.

"Who did you ask Michael? Who is all this from? It's not signed."

For a brief moment he struggled to keep his eyes open and answer her, but too quickly he lost the battle. His body relaxed utterly and he felt himself sink even further into Nikita's embrace. Maybe it was this simple. Just like breathing. The most normal thing in the world. This.

Breathing In

Alison walked leisurely towards Systems, aware of the eyes tracking her every move from their vantage point above. Aware because she had just spent four hours being briefed on the current situation by Madeline and Operations. Aware that while they trusted her professional capabilities implicitly, this trust did not extend to her personal interests in the mission at hand. Hardly something to be concerned about. She was on a long, distinguished list. A role-call of the Section. They barely trusted each other, she reasoned, why should they demand more from her.

She reached Birkoff's station and pulled up a seat beside him. He stared at her, the play of emotions across his face like watching a scene played on fast forward.

"Alison" he finally managed, "what are you doing here?"

"Good question Birkoff. I thought you'd be able to tell me."

"Huh!?"

Alison noted how Birkoff's gaze darted quickly towards Operations office before settling back on her.

"Pull up the scenarios you've been running with Jurgen" she commanded, one hand reaching out to push his chair in towards his computer. "Now."

Birkoff gave her a brief, flustered look, then starting keying in numbers. She leant in close, her face almost touching his as she watched the screen. Her movement deliberate and calculated. Birkoff felt a sheen of sweat suddenly breakout on his body.

As the numbers came up she moved her body closer. Reaching across, her fingers replaced his on the keyboard. She looked at him briefly before she changed the program parameters then ran it again.

"Madeline sent me the data" she whispered softly in his ear. "It's interesting, don't you think, that when I ran the scenarios I came up with completely different numbers." She was talking so close that Birkoff could feel her breath on his cheek. "How do you explain that, Birkoff?"

"Maybe you didn't have all the relevant data" he tried, looking at the screen, afraid of what his eyes would betray.

"You didn't give all the relevant data to Madeline, Birkoff?" She paused between the syllables of his name, ending on a higher pitch. A sing-song, accusing.

Birkoff had the sensation of free-falling. His jaw opened, then closed again. No words came out.

Alison watched him, a curious look on her face.

"Just remember Birkoff, if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off" she whispered in his ear. She leaned over casually and cleared the screen. Her hand circled Birkoff's wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Jurgen" she stated softly.

Birkoff was about to comment when he realised someone was standing behind him.

"Good to see you Alison."

She stared at Jurgen for a long moment, before rising from her seat. Her hand shifted from Birkoff's wrist to his shoulder, pinning him in his seat, facing the screen.

"Well, there you go. Good to see you too" Alison said, her voice smooth, almost cheerful as she dug her fingers into Birkoff's shoulder.

She turned back to the screen.

"Birkoff, I have some new numbers I'd like to try ... that is, unless Jurgen objects."

Alison finally removed her hand from Birkoff's aching shoulder. He winced, then turned, so he could see Jurgen.

"No, it's a good idea" Jurgen replied, eyes fixed on Alison.

"Good" she replied, smiling, taking her seat beside Birkoff again.

She slipped a disc into the computer as Jurgen took a seat on the other side of Birkoff.

"Download and run it again Birkoff" Alison directed, staring at the screen.

Birkoff looked at her for a moment, searching for some further direction but finding none in her intense gaze. With a sigh he started downloading the data, eyes fixed to screen as though caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

"What new data do you have Alison?" Jurgen asked, glancing across at her.

"It's not new, really. Just a different perspective. The answers have been there since day one."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, just watch this space" Alison replied with a smile.

Birkoff heard the gun cock as the car speed towards him, he wasn't just going to be hit, he was going to be annihilated.

Playing the Part

Breathing Out

1. 'Normal' is an illusory concept. The illusion is assembled from many pieces. To blend in you must take pleasure from the pieces, even if the whole makes no sense to you at all. Leave that for someone else to worry about.

Michael sat draped across the lounge, eyes glued to the television, utterly engrossed. He watched as the wheel spun, as it slowed he whispered "$130". He smiled as the wheel stopped on the correct wedge. Without diverting his gaze from the television he cocked his gun and aimed it towards the steps that led down to the front door. As he heard the familiar footfall he lowered it, replacing it beneath the cushion of the lounge.

"Spell normal" he heard Nikita call out as she dropped the bags of groceries in the kitchen.

He tried to copy the excited giggle of the buxom contestant. It sounded strange, coming from his mouth.

The wheel turned again. "$1000" he whispered, feeling Nikita's arms circle his neck from behind and rest against his chest. He grinned as the wheel stopped, then tried the giggle on her.

Without turning he could feel her incredulous gaze. He should have practiced more before trying it he admonished himself.

She picked up the towel slung over the lounge and started rubbing his hair dry.

"How was your run? Many people on the beach?" she asked, passing the towel over his shoulders and chest where his hair had been dripping. His skin was still warm and flush from the exercise.

"$250, good thank you and no, not many" he murmured. "I talked about last night's football with our neighbour, Ed. He invited me over to watch the next game."

He felt Nikita's lips against his cheek before she continued her vigorous rubbing on his head.

"Congratulations. Now you'll have to learn to enjoy beer and talking about babes and monster trucks." She stood and settled in his lap.

Michael folded his arms around her. "Bankrupt" he whispered, then smiled. "I can do that. Can you buy me a magazine on monster trucks next time you go out?"

"Sure" Nikita laughed, shaking her head. "You can read it in the toilet."

"$180." I don't like reading in the toilet, will that be a problem?"

"Only if the lock breaks." She stared at him, making faces, trying to get his attention away from the television.

"Miss a Go" he grinned.

"What is it with you and this stupid show?"

"I like it, it's challenging."

"Challenging? Do you even get it? It's not about guessing where the wheel stops. You're supposed to solve the word puzzle."

"I know, but that seems too ... inane. I think the wheel is a metaphor for avarice."

"Michael, I think we should consider putting you on medication."

"I like guessing where it will stop." His voice dropped down to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've analysed the last 200 spins, I think it's rigged."

Nikita gave a soft snort and kissed him.

"What took you so long?" he asked.

"I did some shopping, there was a mall next to the supermarket."

Michael pressed his mouth against hers, opening her lips with his tongue then gently probing her mouth.

"Raspberry" he murmured, running his tongue over her lips. His tongue searched her mouth again. "And French Vanilla" he whispered, a smile curving his lips as he pulled back.

"Did you buy anything, other than ice-cream?"

"Yes, I bought you some new clothes."

Nikita saw a brief flicker of ... displeasure?

She placed her hands on his cheeks. "What is it Michael?" she asked.

"Nothing really" he said softly. "Madeline used to buy my clothes."

"Madeline" Nikita repeated quietly. "Were you OK with that?"

"No, but in the end it just seemed ... easier, less tiring, to let her."

"Are you OK with me buying you clothes?"

"Yes" he smiled "depending on what sort of clothes you buy me."

"Perhaps you could come with me next time, so I can learn what sort of things you like?"

"Perhaps. I'm not very good at shopping."

"That's perfectly normal, honey, it's in your genes" Nikita drawled, running her hand across his groin.

Michael smiled and lifted her up, carrying her over towards the kitchen before he dropped her legs gently to the floor.

"Show me your purchases" he said softly.

She sat on the floor and rummaged through the bags, pulling things out until she had a small pile of wildly colourful clothes arranged in front of her. Michael leant down a picked out a particularly gaudy shirt with swirls of green and yellow ... something. He put it on, leaving it unbuttoned as he leant down and picked up a pair of pink briefs.

He held them against his body and swayed provocatively at Nikita. "We can save these until after dinner. I've prepared the perfect accompaniment."

"OK" she smiled, accepting his hand as he pulled her up and led her into the kitchen.

Michael opened a bottle of wine and poured it into some glasses as Nikita noticed the magazine on the bench.

"'Fun with Finger Food'?" she chuckled as she read the page he had opened.

"Yes" he grinned, passing her a glass of wine.

He leant in and kissed her, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer.

"Nikita?" he breathed against her lips, his tongue tracing the outline of her soft mouth.

"Yes Michael."

"Despite my genetic disadvantage, I think I would like to go shopping with you next time."

She slid her hand through his hair and trailed kisses up to his ear.

"I thought you would" she whispered.

Breathing In

Operations stormed into the briefing room.

"You will have received a copy of Alison's report by now. It seems we've had a few problems with our systems and the analyses we've been running to date. I don't expect to see any more slip ups." Operations glared at Jurgen and Birkoff for a moment before barking "Alison?"

"I've backtracked through the system for last eight months and found a number of anomalies. At the conclusion of the Sheys mission Michael initiated regular encrypted transmissions to a PDA signed out and never recovered. The timing of the transmissions suggest Michael played a part in Nikita's escape from the explosion, her subsequent six month 'absence' from the Section, as well as her return. During this time he emptied all of his bank accounts and wired the money to a dummy account that has now been emptied and closed."

"Do we know when the account was closed?" Jurgen asked.

"I've tracked it back to two months ago" Alison replied.

"Which would be just before Nikita returned to Section" Madeline stated.

"Correct. We have evidence that she was held captive by the Freedom League for at least a portion of the time she was outside, including the final few day's. It's interesting to note that Ackerman's transmissions to the League increased significantly around the time we assume the account was cleared."

"Could Michael have been involved?" Birkoff asked.

"Unlikely, the final transfer from Michael's accounts happened at least three months before. It's possible Nikita may have tried to use this money to buy her freedom from the League. We know from Jurgen's assessment that they used a number of advanced interrogation techniques on her, so it's also possible she divulged the account details during these sessions."

"So what does the money have to do with the current situation?" Walter asked.

"It suggests that Nikita's involvement with Ackerman and the Freedom League may have been more complex than we first thought. It also indicates that, while Michael may have entertained thoughts of escaping Section, he wouldn't have had the financial resources to sustain him on the outside. He would be unlikely to run under these conditions."

"Michael could have resources outside those we have traced" Jurgen stated.

"Of course, there is always the possibility the Operatives have financial or information resources outside the influence of the Section" Alison replied, smiling at Jurgen.

"Is there any reason to believe that Nikita cooperated with League?" Operations asked.

"That's the angle I'm currently investigating. There have been a number of anomalies in our communication grid and surveillance system since Nikita returned. While most of these can be attributed to Ackerman, there are others, some as recent as seven days ago, that need to be reconciled. There is also evidence to suggest that a recent visitor, Mr Kudrin, was assisted in making a premature departure. Bottom line is our systems and procedures need to be substantially overhauled, things are rather ... sloppy at the moment."

"Mr Birkoff will be doing some 'cleaning' as soon as we finish here. Continue" Operations ordered.

"There are also some anomalies in the mission reports. For example, Michael's report on the mission to extract the Freedom League directory suggests they had early warning and destroyed the computer before he arrived."

"And so?"

"And so based on my current analysis, I think Nikita was in the process of being recruited into the Freedom League when she was retrieved by Section. It's possible she was responsible for sabotaging our efforts to acquire intel on the Freedom League. Her abduction last week was designed to extract her. The fact that she appears to have been taken with a minimum of fuss would tend to support this."

"I don't believe it" Walter said gruffly.

Operations glared at Walter as he asked "what about Michael?"

"He could have been part of the deal Nikita made with the League, or he may have been taken without her knowledge as a counterpoint to secure her defection. Either way it appears that Michael's abduction was under duress. All things being equal, the risk in retrieving him would be more than compensated for by his potential value for intelligence acquisition."

"That's it?" Operations asked

"For now. This scenario would assume a high probability they are still alive. But, as Walter pointed out, there are some significant holes that need further work, most notably the recent security anomalies" Alison responded.

"When can you start?"

"We're ready to do some preliminary recon, I'll get Birkoff working on the location of their training camp and pull a team together."

"Who?"

"Davenport, Mowen, Dawson, Scully, Richardson and Walter. I want Birkoff running comm on site. Jurgen monitoring tactical from base."

"Agreed. We need to resolve this quickly" Operations stated.

"Will our priority be retrieval or removal of the threat?" Madeline asked.

Alison's gaze focused intensely on Operations, waiting for his answer.

"That will depend on timing" he said.

"Timing?" Alison questioned. "Surely you want them back in."

Operations rose and walked around the table until he stood behind Alison. He leant down and hissed into her ear.

"Just do it. Find them, quickly."

Alison nodded slowly, a cold smile on her face.

"Of course."

Mowing Them Down

Breathing Out

2. Normal is achieved by degrees. Don't try too hard, or people will get suspicious. Start with the basics, fill in the rest as you go along. The basics are simple, look for the pattern and imitate it.

"We need a lawnmower" Nikita announced, looking out the front window as she swirled the remainder of the tea in her cup.

"A lawnmower?" Michael responded, putting down the paper he had been reading. He was quiet for a moment, then leaned his elbows against the table, cupping his chin in his hands. "Do they have magazines about lawnmowers?"

Nikita gazed across the table at him then reached for his hand, a serious expression on her face.

"Michael?"

"Yes Nikita"

"I think you should do this one cold. It's time."

"Yes, I suppose you're right" he said reflectively.

"You're scores are peaking at the moment, hell, who would have thought you be able to carry off that conversation about wether the original Star Trek was better than Next Generation at dinner with Ed and Sarah the other night. And the high five with Nick the other day without even a glance up at the sky. You're on a roll."

Michael beamed from her praise.

She stood up and leant down to kiss him. "I'm proud of you honey bunney."

"Thank you sweetie pie."

Michael looked out the window. A frown of concentration clouding his face.

"What's up?" Nikita asked, brushing the hair from his forehead with her fingers.

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"I've always wanted one of those ride-on mowers."

"Might seem like over-kill for a suburban front yard. More coffee?"

"S'il te plait, chérie" he said quietly, passing her his mug. He continued to stare out the window then began talking, his voice very soft. "One of my first undercover missions was as a gardener on a huge estate in Germany. The owner, the target, was very particular about the lawns, but couldn't tolerate the sound of two stroke engines. So all they had was this ancient rotary mower. It took me five days to mow the lawns the first time. I became obsessed with getting those lawns done and missed a critical meeting between the target and his investors. They called me back in. I spent six hours in a tedious session with Madeline before she would allow me to go back. She told me my priorities were out of synch with the mission parameters, that I had to do the job, the other aspects of my cover were insignificant and I would just have to work it out, quickly. She demonstrated what would happen if I failed to understand this. But all I could think about while I was in that room with her was that for every minute I was there, back at the estate the grass would be growing again. I was overwhelmed, so much grass, how could I possibly keep it under control."

"What did you do?" Nikita asked, pulling up a seat beside him and passing his coffee.

"Merci Kita" he said, reaching for the coffee and taking a sip. He held the cup to his lips for a moment then smiled. "I bought some goats," he said softly. "They ate a little of the grass before they found his prize roses. It was carnage. He was furious and fired me."

Nikita let out a laugh. "What about Madeline?"

"She also was furious."

"Did you get him?"

"Yes, eventually." Michael stared out the window for a long moment, then turned back to Nikita, a whimsical smile tugging on his lips. "It is a long time since I mowed a lawn."

She reached across and kissed him. As she leant in he snaked his hand through her hair, holding her against him. Michael deepened the kiss, an adventurous hand started trekking north along the curve of her thigh.

Nikita chuckled and broke off the kiss, pressing a hand firmly against his chest. "We have work to do and you're trying to distract me" she whispered.

"Yes," he answered, his voice low, seductive. His hand ventured further under her light cotton dress.

"It won't work" she whispered. She held his chin and smiled. "No boom boom for little Mickey until we get this done. Where's your focus Michael."

"Where it always is, Ni-ki-ta" he smiled, eyes wandering over her like a predator over it's prey.

She leant in and kissed him hard then stood, trying to extract his determined hand from under her dress.

"Get up and get dressed. We're going shopping." Nikita laughed and started clearing the breakfast dishes from the table.

Michael remained seated. "We have to shop, again" he sighed.

"Of course. What did you think, we could just order one in, like a pizza."

Michael looked up at her hopefully.

"Go. You have five minutes."

Michael groaned and stood, stretching lazily as he turned and walked towards the bedroom.

"Michael?"

"Yes" he called back.

"Those pink briefs look good."

"Will they be OK for buying a lawnmower?"

"Mmmmm yes. But you might want to accessorise. Perhaps jeans and shirt, as well" she replied.

*************

Nikita came up beside Michael as he stood holding a can beer, gazing out the window at the newly shorn front yard. She flicked a piece of grass off his naked shoulder and wrapped her arms around his hot, sweaty chest.

"The lawns look ... " What? Neat, mown, short? She struggled for the right word. "Like all the others" she finally settled.

"Yes" Michael smiled proudly. He turned and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Breathing In

"Alison, we're observing beaucoup movement down here in sector B" Dawson whispered into his comm unit. "The bad guys have set up a defensive perimeter around our ingress. How do you want to proceed?"

"How many?" Alison's voice replied.

"Scully counted ten from her point, I have at least twenty below me."

"Hold your position."

"How'd I know you were gonna to say that" Dawson mumbled.

Alison didn't reply, instead he heard her checking in on the others.

"Mowen, report."

"All quiet here."

"Davenport?"

"There was a lot of activity up until ten minutes ago, nothing now, my grids clear."

"Birkoff, are you picking up any movement inside?"

"Negative Alison, they've moved everyone up to B, most are outside, five inside watching the windows. Two in communications."

"Just like they were expecting us" Alison hissed.

"Oh yeah, they probably know what colour underwear we're wearing" Dawson added.

"Do we abort, Alison?" Birkoff asked.

"No. Birkoff switch us to a secure field channel, no outside tracking, disable the relay to base" Alison replied.

There was a brief pause before Birkoff's voice came back with "done."

"Can we access the security system inside the building?" she asked.

"Sure" Birkoff responded "there's a control box just inside Davenports position."

"Good. Talk Davenport through the intercept, I'll take a small team in while the remainder create a diversion. Walter have you set charges yet?"

"No" Walter replied, "I was waiting for your call."

"OK. We'll set half of them outside the perimeter at B, then the rest further out. Scully, collect the charges from Walter and start laying them out from your current position to point six. Walter, you and Dawson move to Davenport's position and wait for me. Mowen, Richardson, collect some more ammo from the van and then meet up with Scully at four and move deep to B. Birkoff, move the van to point four and be prepared to make a speedy retreat. We need to keep their attention focussed on B, so hit them with a staged assault then pull back to the van. We'll go in and retrieve the intel and meet you at point two in sixty minutes. Birkoff, Mowen, I want you to call the action at B to Jurgen on our standard channel, as close to the original profile as feasible. Indicate an abort when you're close to the van. Dawson, Walter, Davenport and I will stay on this channel. Birkoff make it look like our comm units are down. Clear?"

There were whispers of confirmation.

"Alison?" Birkoff whispered. "Should I alert Jurgen and Operations of the change to the profile."

There was a moment's silence before Alison responded.

"Send an encrypted message to Operations. Switch back Birkoff, see you soon."

**********

Alison followed Dawson as they made their way down the empty corridor. She stopped as she heard a series of charges explode outside the building and then the loud repeat of automatic weapons.

"Like candy from a baby" Dawson turned and whispered.

Alison just smiled and moved quickly ahead.

"Davenport, are we clear?" she said softly.

"You're clear, the systems out. We're moving up to secure you're egress" Davenport responded.

As they neared the door to the communications room they slowed. Dawson crept forward, positioning himself against the doorframe. He moved his head slightly to the side and then held up two fingers to Alison. She nodded and moved forward, then with a quick smile at Dawson she dived low into the room and pointed her gun at the surprised faces of the two occupants. Surprise soon turned to vacant stares as they dropped to the ground.

"I can't shake that feeling of better them than me" Dawson said thoughtfully as he dragged the bodies out of the way.

"It's always hard on the sensitive one's" Alison replied as she sat in front of the computer console and started scanning through files.

"Yup, that's me, I'm a sensitive '90's guy. You know, I used to play with dolls when I was kid."

"I'd heard you still do."

"Yeah, but now they have a pulse." Dawson chuckled and picked up one of the comm units lying on the desk, placing it in his ear.

"Hey" he said listening in, "our boy's are putting on a fine show out there, got 'em running all over the place. We are glorious in defeat."

Dawson leaned across to watch the screen in front of Alison.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, a small frown on his face.

"Gathering intel" Alison whispered without looking at him, her hands flying over the keyboard.

Dawson watched as the program unloaded. When it was done Alison removed the disc and then placed another one in the drive and started the process again. She passed the disc she had removed to Dawson.

"Kill it" she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

Dawson held her gaze as he took the disc from her hand. He put the disc on the ground and then broke it into pieces with his boot, kicking the pieces all over the room.

When he took his seat again Alison's attention was back on the screen, typing in and sending a series of messages.

"What now?" he asked, trying not to let his lower jaw drop on the table as he read the text on the screen.

"Insurance" she replied turning to look at him.

"You're a very naughty girl Alison" Dawson whispered, eyes turning to meet hers.

"What do you intend to do about it" she replied calmly.

Dawson looked down to see her gun pointed against his chest.

"Nothing really, unless you want me to do something?" he replied cautiously. Realising she was waiting for something else his mind whirled. Like a roladex, flicking through options. When he reflected later, he couldn't imagine what possessed him. Maybe the need to go out with a bang and not a whimper. A grin spread slowly across his face. It elicited no response from Alison. She looked at him with eyes that could freeze hell over.

"This, ummm, situation, it sort of reminds me of a joke."

"Is it a bad joke?" she asked, deadly serious.

The gun nudged against his chest, digging into his sternum.

"They're the only kind I know" he replied, taking a deep breath.

"Tell me" she whispered.

"Why do you always find ghouls and demons together?"

"I don't know."

"Cause demons are a ghoul's best friend."

She stared at him for a long moment then lowered the gun. Dawson let out the breath he had been holding and slumped in his seat. Turning quickly, Alison retrieved the disc from the computer and pulled a charge out of the pocket of her jacket. Setting it on the console in front of them she armed it then stood.

"Let's go" she whispered, moving towards the door and then into the corridor.

Half way down the corridor Dawson finally gave in to his curiosity and grabbed her arm.

"Why didn't you shoot me?" he asked, a perplexed look on his face as he spun her around.

"Because you told the truth" she said evenly. She turned and started moving quickly down the corridor towards the stairs.

"What do you mean?" he asked, chasing after her.

"It was a bad joke" she said quietly as she started down the steps. She turned briefly to look back at him. "Get a wiggle on Dawson, we've got work to do" she called as she started running down the steps towards Walter.

Dawson watched as she nodded to Walter and moved outside. With a shake of his head the grin he had been holding back exploded across his face. He plunged down the stairs after her as though she were reeling him in. Hook, line and sinker.

Filling In Time

Breathing Out

3. There is an old adage that goes something like: 'Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work, driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for, in order to get to a job that you need so you can pay for the clothes, car and the house that you leave empty all day in order to afford to live in it.' Normal people have a vocation of some kind. This rarely involves shooting bad guys. Work out what you want to be when you grow-up.

"Michael, what did you study at university?" Nikita asked as she read the ingredient list on a can of soup.

Michael shifted slightly, resting his elbows on the shopping trolley.

"Engineering," he said softly, tapping his fingers impatiently against the metal frame. "If you want to read we can go to the library" he mumbled, "or home."

"I need to make sure it hasn't got shellfish in it, I don't want a repeat of the other night. Why didn't you tell me you had an allergy."

"I was enjoying the paella," he said defensively, "it doesn't always happen, just sometimes. It's no big deal Kita."

She looked across at him, pouting her lips, mimicking his frown.

"No big deal! I'd hardly call you puffed up like a marshmallow gasping for air no big deal. Anyway, what's your hurry. Be patient, Michael, sometimes you can be such a guy."

"I just don't see why it always has to take this long. You already know what we need, I made a list." He held the piece of paper out towards her again, then with a sigh crumpled it and tossed it into the trolley.

"What sort of engineering?" she asked casually, retrieving the crumpled bit of paper and smoothing it out. She put the can in the trolley and started moving slowly, holding on to the frame as Michael pushed it forward, obviously pleased to be moving again.

"Civil and structural" he replied, reaching for a box of cereal and tossing it in. "I was doing both, I couldn't decide which I preferred."

"What made you choose engineering?" Walking slowly beside him, she smiled as she mentally ticked off his list as he methodically grabbed items from the shelves. She watched the frown disappear from his face as he regained his interest. Something to focus on. She was learning, he wasn't good at being idle.

"I'm not sure, it was a long time ago. Maybe the maths and physics, and design. I always enjoyed building things when I was younger." He stopped and reached for a packet of toilet paper, reading the label before replacing it and selecting another. When he noticed Nikita watching him he gave her a sheepish grin and kissed her cheek. "Softer" he whispered.

She smiled and removed some milk and yogurt from the cooler bin.

"What about you Kita? If your fortunes had allowed, what would you have chosen?"

"When I was a little kid we used to move around a lot. My mum wore out her welcome pretty quickly with the long line of cousins and friends we lobbed in on. We never moved far, mostly stayed in the same general area. There was lot's of bush around, even though we lived in a big city. While I was in primary school I made friends with this crazy old lady. She used to look after injured animals. People brought them in from all over."

"What sort of animals?"

"All kinds, but mostly native animals. She had possums and bats hanging from branches tied to the ceiling, kangaroo joey's poking their noses out from pillow cases hanging on the wall, wombats tearing holes in the fly screen of her back door as they came charging in. It was wild and wonderful."

"How did they get injured?"

"Cars, dogs, cats, sometimes it was bushfires. I'd help her out, tending cuts and scratches, broken bones, feeding them. I'd go out and collect grubs and leaves, whatever she needed. I was never happier than when I was there. Just helping out these wonderful fragile creatures that couldn't help themselves. Then setting them free. That was the best part. She said I was a natural, that I should think about being a vet or something. I often think about that crazy old lady."

Michael brushed his fingers against her cheek, then took her hand in his and kissed her palm. He held her hand as he pushed the trolley ahead with the other.

"What was university like?" she asked quietly.

"It was stimulating and passionate, for a little while, at least."

Michael stopped to select some pasta. Nikita took over pushing the trolley.

"You could go back to university" she said, gently probing.

"No."

"It could be good for you, studying engineering again, rediscovering something you used to be interested in. You could study at home, they have all sorts of courses now."

Michael sighed and leant down against one of the open freezers. He gazed in at the assortment of ice-cream, eyes unfocussed, head bowed down between his outstretched arms. Nikita leant beside him, running a hand slowly down his back.

"No" he repeated very softly, sadly, "I will hold precious the dreams of that young man who died a long time ago, but his future is no longer mine." Michael rubbed distractedly at his chin then leaned his elbows against the edge of the freezer.

"Would you ever consider going back to school Nikita?" he asked softly.

"I never even got to finish high school because of ... well, you know. It seemed pretty cool at the time to drop-out. Just hang out with my bum friends, get into trouble. It made me feel free and grown up, in control. What a hopeless joke. As though I was ever destined to be anything but what I became." She laughed nervously, blinking back tears.

"We cannot change the past Kita, we can only accept it and move forward." He leant across and kissed her softly on the lips. "You can be whatever you want to be, as much or as little, my love will always be the constant" he whispered.

Nikita's lower lip trembled as the tears started streaming slowly down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. "Always" she whispered as she felt Michael's arms circle her, pulling her close. He rocked her gently, ignoring the stares of the shoppers that moved around them.

Nikita finally pulled back, locked to Michael's eyes as he removed the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from her face.

"I think I know what I would like to do Nikita" he said softly, cupping her chin in his hand as he dabbed at her tears.

"Tell me" she whispered in between quiet sobs.

"It involves you, restraints, our bed, and a tub of chocolate ice-cream." He breathed the words into her ear, a wicked grin curving his lips.

"No strawberries this time?" she whimpered.

"I'll be trying something new, perhaps banana's would be more appropriate. But if you have your heart set on strawberries ma cher ...?"

"No" she said softly, blowing her nose on Michael's handkerchief, "banana's sound good too. We should get some more laundry powder, the one for soaking."

"Good thinking."

"Michael?"

"Yes Kita."

"While you work, will you recite some more passages from your monster truck magazine? In French?"

"Bien sûr, mon amour. Tout ce que tu veux."

Breathing In

Birkoff and Dawson sat, staring at the computer screen as the frantic activity in comms swirled around them.

Birkoff stared, and stared, unbelieving.

"We should get this to Operations" he said slowly. He wondered, idly, if it would be faster or even less painful, if he drew a bulls-eye on his forehead. Anyway you looked at it, he was dead.

"Bad idea Birkoff, unless you got a deathwish."

"Maybe I should talk to Alison then, she'll know what to do" Birkoff mumbled, looking up towards Operations office.

"I wouldn't if I was you" Dawson whispered, following Birkoff's eyes up to the glass wall of the office. "I think she's stepped over to the dark side, if you know what I mean. Rumour has it she used to do the mambo with Michael way back when. Either way it's clear she's blaming Nikita for all that's going down and nothing's gonna stand in the way of her hauling our favourite blonde's runaway ass back in for a serious discussion about the meaning of life. Yup, I'd say Alison's on a crusade, and that mean's only one thing - stay out of the way."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, she has been acting weird" Birkoff replied. "Well, waiting is only going to make it worse." He sighed and started downloading the information onto a disc.

Dawson leaned across and grabbed Birkoff's fingers.

"Whoa there. Don't be so quick to sign your death warrant Birkoff, the fat lady's not singing yet. The transmission times don't match, it's possible the messages were sent from a remote location- not Section. Find the location and the source and you're in the clear. Instead of the hapless geek you'll be hailed as the conquering hero." Dawson smiled encouragingly.

"That's easy for you to say Dawson" Birkoff whispered. "With all these stuff ups Madeline has been monitoring my every move, even if I wanted to I couldn't keep it from her. The only thing worse than Operations knowing you stuffed up is when he doesn't know and Madeline does."

"Then throw her a bone, Birkoff, let her do the digging. I know playing the fool don't sit well with you little buddy, but, well, you'd have to agree a little bit of humble pie would be a whole lot better to chew on than the barrel of a Glock."

"What are you suggesting?" Birkoff replied, staring suspiciously at Dawson.

"I have a couple of ideas, and, well if you're gonna learn to play the fool Birkoff, I just want to reassure you" Dawson said with a grin, "you're about to learn from the master."

***********

Two hours later Dawson stood, rolling his head around slowly as he stretched his lanky arms above his head.

"Well, I better go and get ready, we're about ready to head out." He lowered his arms and leant against the back of the chair he had been sitting in. "You gonna be OK?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure" Birkoff replied, still focussing on the screen.

Dawson patted him on the shoulder and sauntered off.

"Hey Dawson" Birkoff called after him.

Dawson turned slightly as he continued to walk.

"Thanks" Birkoff smiled.

"No problemo little buddy" Dawson replied with a smile as he headed off to his quarters. "Chaos, panic and disorder" he murmured quietly to himself. "My work here is done."

***********

"You wanted to see me" Alison said quietly as she stepped into Operations office.

"We have confirmation on their location?" Operations asked, leaning casually against his desk.

"Yes, I've assembled my team, I'll be using Lindell's team as backup. We're loading now."

"After reviewing your latest report I've decided to make some minor adjustments to your profile" Madeline said quietly. She stood solemnly by Operations desk, her fingers intertwined and resting in front of her. Her eyes watched Alison intently.

"Will I need to send an updated inventory to Walter?" Alison asked.

"No" Madeline replied, inclining her head slightly, "there is no change to the parameters, just the endgame. I was concerned about the potential for compromise, given the exposed nature of the location you have identified and potential involvement of innocents." She handed a PDA to Alison. "You and Jurgen will be the only one's with the updated profile."

Alison merely nodded in response as she accepted the PDA.

Operations took a step closer to Alison until he stood directly in front of her.

"I want Michael back" he hissed, so close she could feel his breath graze her cheek.

"So do I" Alison said evenly. She paused briefly then added "and Nikita."

Operation stared at her for moment, unsure if she was making a statement or asking a question. He smiled at Madeline and then turned to face Alison again. "The updated collateral parameters are in your PDA. I'll be monitoring the mission on a secure channel, alert me immediately if you experience any anomalies."

Alison nodded and had turned to leave when Operations grabbed her arm.

"You will follow the revised profile Alison, just do the job. I expect nothing less than 100% containment and recovery" he whispered. "Failure is not an option."

"When is it ever?" she said coldly, shrugging off his arm as she turned her back on him and headed out. Just do the job. Again. And again.

Don't be Afraid

Breathing Out

4. Normal requires a certain amount of spontaneity. Don't be afraid to go with your emotions or instinct. Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind.

"Where are we going Michael" Nikita asked for the 100th time.

"You'll see" he replied for the 100th time.

"Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?"

"No" he answered as he pulled up at a red light, "though I do enjoy the way your upper lip twitches when you are angry with me." He leant across and kissed her cheek before shifting the car into gear and accelerating.