She loved this. The liquid heat as silken skin flowed against skin. His gentle caresses on her shoulders and neck; the pad of his thumb circling the hollow of her collarbone. Nikita shifted slightly against his hard chest and closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of warm water and the fragrant scent that was him.

She had been surprised when Michael had first suggested a bath some weeks ago. She had been even more surprised when the erotic images that had leapt to mind had failed to take place. Instead of the hard joining of bodies, Michael had shown her a steam-wrapped blending of souls. It had been...intimate.

Nikita sighed and moved her head, exposing her neck to him. She smiled lazily when he followed her movement with light fingers, then shivered as he found the sensitive spot just behind her ear. Her hand tightened briefly on his hard thigh, then resumed tracing the contours of firm muscle.

They were in the quiet time of their bathing ritual but, from the tension radiating from Michael, Nikita knew they would begin sharing soon. It wasn't difficult to be patient. Nikita half opened her eyes and focused on a flickering candle. She had set them around the tub then turned the lights out as Michael had prepared the water. Another part of the ritual.

She hoped it never stopped.

His hands were on her arms now, feathering lightly on the tender undersides. She thought she'd come apart when his fingers brushed against her breast. Her breathing hitched and she closed her eyes, smiling at the delicious sensation of his wet fingers on her body.

Too soon, the delicate stroking slowed and she opened her eyes, again focusing on the candle beside the claw-footed tub. Under her hand, his thigh muscle was still taut.

"Where were you today?" She kept her voice low, unwilling to break the spell of silence.

"I didn't leave Section."

Nikita shifted again, the liquid heat gently lapping at their entwined bodies.

"Long day, then?"

"Yes."

So. It was going to be like that then. Sliding her arms up, Nikita captured one of his lean hands from its resting place on her forearm. Gently, she began to outline each knuckle and finger. She couldn't see where he was looking, but from the feel of his breath on her hair, she guessed he was watching her soothe his hand.

His breath caught as she stroked delicate spot between his thumb and forefinger. She smiled and wiped away a drop of warm water from his palm.

"I love your hands, Michael. I've seen them do many things. What they do to me...." Nikita continued to caress his fingers even as they stilled.

"And what they do to others."

Nikita tilted her head at the sound of his voice. He had left an opening.

"What do they do to others, Michael?" Softly, gently. They were getting to it now.

"Adam had to have toys at every bath."

Nikita continued stroking his hand only out of sheer will. That was not what she had expected to hear. They hadn't spoken of his son for a long, long time.

"What sort of toys?"

The candles flickered in silence for a moment before she felt the soft rumble of Michael's voice in his chest.

"Boats. He loved boats."

"Sailboats?"

"No. Any boat."

She waited.

"He had one that was blue and red. Walter gave it to him for his second birthday."

"Walter?" Nikita had known that Walter helped establish Michael's cover for that mission, but she didn't know details.

"Yes. He was Adam's Grandpapa."

Nikita nodded. "Oh. I bet Walter loved that."

Michael freed his hand and dipped it into the warm water. "He never met Adam. He sent the gift by mail."

Nikita nodded, idly watching as Michael tilted his hand and let the water splash onto her chest. Tiny rivulets ran between her breasts. He repeated the motion.

"We lost it one night. Adam wouldn't take a bath without it. I thought I would have to break into a store to get a new one, just so he would stop crying."

Nikita smiled at the image of Michael breaking into a toy store for his son. "Did you?'

"No." Michael whispered. "I found it outside by the pool."

"Ah."

"He was never allowed to have it outside again." Michael's voice was full of sadness.

"I remember seeing a blue and red boat when I gave Adam his bath. I'll bet he still loves it just as much as ever."

Michael's hand stilled. She felt him shift beneath her as the silence was filled with the sound of water trickling.

"I'm sure he would."

Niktia suddenly sat up and half turned to face him, water sloshed against the high sides of the white tub.

"You're talking about him in the past tense. He's not dead, Michael."

Michael turned his face away from her. The flickering candlelight created a shadow across his eyes.

"He is to me."

Michael's pain-filled words made Nikita blink back tears. How could she answer that? To him it was true. He could never hold his son again, could never give him a bath again. But to pretend that he was dead?

The silence grew as she considered this. And what it meant for him to admit that to her.

"Michael..." He blinked but did not look at her. The candlelight danced wildly across his face as she moved.

"Michael, look at me."

When he failed to meet her gaze, Nikita half stood in the tub. The water splashed and sloshed as she turned so she was fully facing him. She settled in the warm liquid, ignoring the splatter it made on the tile floor.

Carefully, she reached out and took his strong jaw in her hand, gently turning his face to hers. His green eyes met hers and she felt her heart break at the loss she saw there.

Nikita studied him for a moment as she fought back tears of her own. His pain was still palpable, but not as raw as it had been so many months ago. She saw loss in his eyes and, yes, grief. But she also saw healing and that made her fight back tears even more.

"Thank you for sharing him, Michael."

He closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand. When he met her gaze again, his lips crooked into a tiny half-smile.

Then gently, reverently, he kissed her palm.

fini

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