Brakendale was a small town a few miles north of Squamish. Fletcher was none too chatty in the car, listening to jazz on the stereo.

God, he was a bore. I can't stand jazz. The musical equivalent of barf. I like loud rock or underground. Give me the Chemical Brothers. Give me The Cure or the Clash or the Cult. Give me Fat Boy Slim.

Diana Krall? Feed me a freaking peach. Save the fuzz for my pillow?

" What's the box number? Do you have a key?" he asked, pulling into the parking lot. There were no patrons at the strip mall. The Post Office had just opened.

" I'll go in and get it. I'm the one who's bringing it back to Section One after all."

" I'll go in with you." He gave me his boring accountant's smile.

" Don't bother. Really." I hopped out of the car quickly.

It took me a few minutes to get the package Michael had stashed at the post office. The girl at the desk was chatty. " Oh, hi," she said. " We were wondering when you'd come in. He's so gorgeous, your husband. We all wondered if you were, too."

" Yea, he is rather gorgeous."

" Is he a logger? "

" Um no. I'm in a hurry."

She came back with the small brown envelope.

I looked around before I got into Fletcher's car. I gave him a phoney smile." I guess it's on to the airport then.

Fletcher headed the car in the opposite direction.

" Where are we going? The airport is south."

" Give me the disc."

" Excuse me?"

" I need the disc."

" Is this some crazy Section rivalry, Fletcher? Are you trying to flex a little Canadian muscle. Because I'm under the impression that I was to cancel Michael and take this back to Section One. You took care of his cancellation for me. Thank you by the way. It's so messy to fuck someone and then blow their brains out? Don't you think? "

" I can take the disc with me."

" Where? You haven't the facilities in Canada to even decode it. And why would you need a bunch of nuclear codes and Swiss bank account numbers anyway? "

" Give it to me."

" Maybe I should toss it out the window and let you try to find it. I mean, we are joking here, aren't we, Fletcher? "

" Listen. I'm going to kill you anyway and take it. Why would I want to mess up the car upholstery? "

" Oh, my. I wasn't aware the rivalry between Sections was so strong." I reached down toward my coat pocket for my gun.

" Don't. Just put the disc on the dashboard. " He slowed the car and turned onto what I assumed was a logging road.

I was starting to get a little concerned at this point.

" Listen Fletcher. Are you willing to negotiate here? I assume you're not quite what you appear to be? Let me guess. You're one of the bad guys? A double agent? "

" You have a big mouth, Nikita. I think I'm going to enjoy offing you just as much as I did your snoopy boyfriend."

I looked into the side mirror. Not a car in sight. Jesus.

I decided I'd better stall a little. " You know that piece of paper I took out of his hand?"

" The love letter? "

" Right. The love letter. It's coded."

" Coded? "

" Yes. Pull over the car and let me show it to you."

" Why should I? "

" I find you kind of attractive, Fletcher. I like bad boys. Maybe we can work something out. I had no idea you were this exciting."

" What codes?"

" As you know, Michael wanted to run from Section. He ran across some things when he was working in the bank. Um, he was juggling Swiss accounts." I hope that sounded good. " He was embezzling. Building up a portfolio for himself to live on. He has a photographic memory. He's been blessed in many ways, the studly looks, his sexual prowess and that a really great memory."

I opened the piece of folded paper. It was truly a love letter. It shocked me. " My darling Nikita: How I hoped that I could reach you. That we could be together some day " I gave a small laugh. " It's all in code."

" You're full of shit."

" No, really. Do you really believe that anyone would write crap like this and expect the other person to believe it? "

" Give me your gun and the disc." He waved his gun in my face. I reached into my pocket and placed the Glock in his hand. The disc I put on the dashboard." You know that you really didn't have to be this unpleasant. You're actually an attractive girl."

" Are you Red Cell? Or just a shmuck? "

He reached into his glove compartment and removed some nylon ties. He tried to bind my hands.

That was when Fletcher made his big mistake.

I'm bigger than him. I was wearing high heels. And I was some pissed. At him and Michael. Being pissed at Michael just added a little fuel to the fire. After I cracked his jaw and put the heel of my hand into his voice box, I dragged him out of the car and connected my spiked heel with his balls a few times. That was for having Michael shot.

I had every reason to believe he wasn't dead. He'd told me about the true nature of the mission before I dressed. But the helicopter landed and he wasn't with them. I'd expected him to be with them when they came after Fletcher and to get me. I knew that our conversation had been recorded by a bug in the car.

I told myself that my heart was only pounding with dread because of the adrenaline, not because I feared that I really had stepped over his dead body without blinking an eye.

I was sitting in this leather recliner in George's private leer jet. I'd been amazed when he'd offered to take me back to Paris in it. I thought I'd be going in the transport I kind of like George. I know Michael does.

I had read parts of Michael's love letter to me over and over. I still didn't know what to think.

My heart aches for you to come back to me, Kita. I need only three words from you and I'll be myself again... If only you wouldn't look straight through me like I was invisible.

I sighed, folded it and slipped it into my pocket.

My brain was mush. But at least it didn't ache so much. I was listening to a CD I'd never heard on the Discman. It was raw and really cool. " Dirty enough, I got me a love and it's so bad. Hello time bomb, I'm ready to go off..."

Yea, that's me and Michael. A couple of time bombs ready to go off.

Does he really love me?

Do I love him? I don't know but I'm feeling things I haven't felt in months.

I looked up as George came into the room. " Hello," he said.

I sat up, removing the headset.

" Good job there, this morning, Nikita. Fletcher has admitted to being a mole for the October 16 league."

I held up the CD I had retrieved at the Post Office " A lot of trouble he had to go to for the latest Matthew Good C.D. They're local, I gather? "

" Michael says they're pretty good. Though I like classical and jazz, myself."

" Jazz? Okay."

" We didn't know who the mole was at the time I sent him in. There is still a question about Section One's involvement with Fletcher and that's why we had to cook up this cover mission. I had it narrowed down to several men. Fletcher wasn't even on my list. I knew if Michael couldn't find the mole no one could."

" So it was all a wild goose chase. A set up. The whole Sikh mission."

"Yes. Well, sort of. He did sort that out. Too. He's is marvel, our Michael."

" Yea, I guess he's pretty good at what he does. What about Fletcher? "

"Somehow I never really believed it was him acting as a double agent. Michael did all along, but I thought Fletcher was a Caspar Milquetoast. His record seemed impeccable."

" Nothing is ever as it seems at Section, sir." I grinned at him.

He laughed. " How very true, young woman. Call me George, will you? "

" Where, exactly, did I come into it, George ? I don't know why Michael needed me on this, really. "

" Michael apparently doesn't trust anyone else in Section One and rightly, so. Very sad when it comes down to that. When people have their own agendas and the workplace becomes a nightmare of backstabbing. Seems we should be working together against the brutes of this world and not spying in each other."

" True. I still don't know why me. He could have exposed Fletcher himself. I've not exactly been-um- a friend to him lately."

"When he told me he needed you, I figured that Section One could spare you. He didn't give me all his reasons of course. I knew they were sound. Personal but sound. The boy's been a ghost of himself lately and I was worried about him. Do you know the reason? "

" Not really."

" Is there a personal involvement between you two ?"

" Once. I have been told that sort of thing is bad for Section." I could feel the blush spread over my cheeks.

" I can imagine that some people believe that love will destroy an operative. I personally don't buy into that...At any rate I trust Michael implicitly. If he trusted only in you, I had to do so as well."

I was almost unable to believe it. Wasn't trust a mutual thing? Had I ever really trusted Michael? He'd given me so many reasons not to trust him.

"When will he be coming home? I mean, back to Paris? "

George got to his feet. " Michael is back there in the bedroom, resting. I thought you knew."

My heart jumped in my chest. " He's aboard? This plane has a bed ? Wow. "

" Of course. It's a Lear. This plane was once owned by Mohammad El Fahed. " George said proudly. " Don't tell anyone that."

" I thought Michael was recovering at the Section medical quarters in Vancouver."

" It's not that bad. You knew he'd put on the flack vest? "

" Yes. I guess he thought I'd get him in the back."

" What does that mean? "

" We've been on the outs lately. I'm sort of unpredictable."

" You do have a strange partnership." He seemed thoughtful. " He was shot in the arm and a bullet grazed the side of his head. Those were Fletcher's shots. He was rather abysmal with a gun, luckily. The rest were blanks. Michael pretended to be dead. He didn't intend it to be so long that they found you. Someone from Section was supposed to be at the post-office doing surveillance."

" I assume that some of the operatives there with Fletcher at the cabin were your men. "

" Of course. "

" How are things now? "

" I am slowly cleaning house in the Sections. Michael has been of great service. I would expect that none of this will be mentioned to Madeline or Operations."

" Okay. Do they still believe that Michael turned? "

"No. I'll put a spin on things. They'd not dare punish Michael. Or anyone Michael cares about."

"I wonder how many of his nine lives Michael has lost. Two of them in the last few days it would seem."

" What do you mean? Two? "

" I sort of attempted to cancel him. Section One orders." I smiled at him. " It's lucky my aim was off." I still didn't know if I had missed on purpose. Everything was a little muddled.

George smiled back at me. " Luckily for us he does seem to have been blessed with more lives than a cat. He seemed quite anxious about you. Do you want to go back there and see him?"

" I guess so." My knees were trembling.

" Please. Take your time. I'll order some dinner for the three of us. I have work to do in my office for a few hours." He winked at me.

I almost fell off my chair. What the hell was that all about?

I found my way to the rear of the plane. He was asleep on the queen-sized bed, dressed in black pants and navy blue silk knit sweater, his usual garb. His jacket lay on the foot of the bed. I could see the bulge of bandaging around his biceps muscle, the white patch of gauze and tape on his forehead.

I stopped by the bed and looked down at him, the way his lashes formed crests on his lean cheeks. He'd had a smooth shave and his skin looked a little pale beneath the dark beard shadows. His hair had been trimmed a little. Not too much, thankfully. He'd tried to plaster down the boyish curls again to little avail.

I didn't know what I was feeling as I looked at him. I knew it was definitely not indifference any more.

I didn't know what it was.

I reached down to touch his cheek softly with one finger. The girls at the post office were right. He's definitely gorgeous.

A rarity. A keeper.

His jewel green eyes fluttered open and locked with mine. And then in this move only Michael could manage, he pulled me down and pinned me under him before I could even think.

" Hi," he said.

" Hi, yourself. "

" Want to join the mile-high club?"

" The what? " I sputtered. Oh, he didn't really think I was that easy, did he? He was nibbling away at my feelings. My defences were a little down but not that down.

He was distracting me. His face and that body and the feelings he induced that night we made love were most distracting. But there was still something...

Something painful that I could not really deal with yet still hovered at the edge of my conscience. I had to know what it was before I could think about being with him.

He grinned and started to explain about the mile-high club.

" I know what it is, Michael." I was feeling this strange little stab of jealousy." I'm sure with your past experiences you've done it in planes before."

" I've never done it with you, so none of those count." He had the grace to flush a little.

" Why do I expect a mirror ball to come out of the ceiling and to hear I Touch Myself on the hi-fi? Let me see those teeth. Are you wearing bell-bottoms? "

He laughed softly and nuzzled his fine, substantial nose up and down my neck. " Don't I make you randy, baby? Don't I make you horny? Don't I make you want to shag me silly? " He let his hand trail down from my check to my shoulder and let it rest just above my breast. Then he lifted his head, gave me the goofiest smile and wagged his lovely thick brows at me. " Well? "

I don't think I ever saw him look that goofy before.

It was just so unlike him that I burst out in giggles. " Did we watch that movie together? I don't remember."

" I think we watched half of it. There were a lot of movies we watched only half of, weren't there? " He pulled away from me and flopped on his back. He gave a little grunt of pain.

" Do your ribs hurt? " A flack vest will protect but there is always the possibility of a few broken ribs.

" The hurt a little. Yes." He was studying me again with great thought.

" You lied to me about something, Michael. I should be angry at you," I said.

" Well, at least you're not aloof. You know nothing ever killed me as much as the day you gave me that little pat on the shoulder like I was your lovable pet dog. I'd rather have you kicking and screaming and calling me asshole. By the way, try not to call me that any more."

I smiled. " Whatever."

" Which lie are we talking about? " he asked.

" About wanting to run with me. You had no intention of that, did you? "

" I always think about that. I always want to run with you. Every night when I lay in bed, I think about it. I imagine where we could go and how we could do it. In the last months when I couldn't have you it was all I thought about. "

" You didn't need me to get Fletcher."

" No, I didn't, but I thought that if I could get you alone here far away from them I could get you to love me again." He gave me a sideways glance. " It was worth a try. I had you all to myself for a day and a night. "

I nodded.

" I knew they'd send you to bring me in. Madeline would not pass up the opportunity to test you. I know they've messed with your head, Nikita. With pills or brainwashing, I don't know. I will find out. I knew my girl was in there somewhere."

" Is that why you asked me to kill you? To test your theory. "

" That was sheer desperation. I really did fall asleep beside you and forgot all about the gun. I just got too relaxed."

" It was all that beer."

" That was just to make Fletcher think I was a bum. I never thought I'd get to like the stuff. I think I'm going to have to get Molsen's Canadian shipped to me. "

" Would you have let me kill you that night, Michael? You could have had that gun out of my hand in the blink of an eye."

" I never expected it to be that close, Kita. I thought that if you would really shoot me I didn't care about living anymore anyway."

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. " I still think I just missed, Michael. I'm glad I missed. I'm sorry."

" I still say otherwise. Don't take the blue pills anymore. Pretend to take them to fool Madeline. That's all I ask."

" They don't help much anyway."

" How are your headaches?"

" Not bad. I had one a little while ago. It went away on it's own. I think I'm thinking a little more clearly."

He just smiled. It was a sad little smile.

I reached into my pocket and handed him the unfinished love letter. " Here. This is yours. You might want to finish it one of these days. There are a few trite phrases that could use some polishing. It's a very good start, though, Michael. A very good start. "

I have not been taking the pills. Michael was right. They are not migraine preventatives but a mood altering drug Walter seen at Section during some experiments several years before. Now every night I go to the sink and take a placebo just in case she's watching me.

And the other night I had this dream. It was the dream about Michael. It started out the same way as it always does.

I'm in the hallway of his condo. I'm walking towards his room. The shower is running and I know he's there waiting for me to come to him.

I slip off my robe and let it puddle around my feet.

He comes into the bedroom, backlit by the bathroom light. He's rubbing at his russet tinged hair with a towel and he smiles at me. There are no words but the invitation is obvious.

There's a towel wrapped low on his hips. Little beads of water highlight the shadowy valleys and muscular curves of that astonishingly beautiful body.

He opens his arms and I go into them.

He tastes warm and wild, his breath sweet and minty with toothpaste. I can smell soap on his skin. His tongue teases the edges of my mouth, and I invite him to enter, to taste my mouth, as his arms wrap around my waist and lift me off my feet. He's carrying me and I wrap my legs around him, the contact of our mouths never breaking.

And then we're on the bed. It's the same way the dream always is. I am on top of him and he's kissing my breasts, his hands skimming my sides, my hips, lowering me to join my body with his. He's very aroused and I gasp as we join.

I throw back my head and cry out, longing for it. For this completion.

For this man.

I have had this dream to many times not to know what happens next. And even as I'm being swept away by desire, by the beauty of it, I know that I will look down at him and he'll be dead.

His warm green eyes will be lifeless shards of glass.

His mouth will be parted just slightly, trickling blood, the stain marring the white pillow case.

I can feel the tears burning me, tricking down my cheeks. I do not want this.

I love him too much to let it happen again and again... I will kill myself first.

" Nikita? "

I hear his voice. The wonder of it almost shatters me.

I look down at him. He's smiling. His curls are spread out like skeins of silk on the pillow. I touch his face. It is warm. The bristles of his beard tickle my fingers. He kisses my hand.

" Kita," he says. " I have you now. I'm here. Don't cry. You're mine."

As you are mine, my love.

As you were always mine.

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