Nikita couldn't help but find the oil refinery strangely compelling as she held her position by its exterior fence awaiting Birkoff's signal to move. In the early predawn hours the compound looked like a scene straight out of some futuristic science fiction movie. The whole complex was eerily illuminated by yellow warning lights which winked in and out of focus in the shifting morning fog. A separating cloud revealed a series of tall black spires bursting forth from gargantuan storage tanks, the circular stairs looping around each tower creating the illusion of a drill in motion.

Upon further reflection, however, she was forced to change her mind. As a singularly unpleasant odor wafted toward her from the general direction of the plant she decided it was possible that she was merely feeling nostalgic for a target she was about to partially destroy.

That, or she just needed some sleep.

Stifling a yawn, she turned her head away from the refinery to regard her team. She was one of a group of eight who were being deployed in a surgical sweep to eliminate a potential manufacturing site for munitions. The mission was a standard infiltration and detonation scenario, a procedure with which she had become far too adept in the past few years.

Her eyes scanned the area, crinkling up at Baker as she caught his eye, not resting until they found Michael. Ever watchful, his face was a study in concentration as he tracked the terrain in search of potential threats. He did not notice Nikita's gaze so she allowed herself the luxury of taking a moment to appreciate the strength of his features. She took a deep breath as the sheer force of his masculinity struck her like a blow. He was so damned handsome, and he was hers… Just the thought of him, of them together, made her heart beat faster. Feeling a slow flush spreading across her face, she quickly averted her eyes before her feelings became obvious to any of the other operatives present.

"Perimeter clear," Birkoff intoned in her com-link a short while later. "You have a seven minute window to access the site. Be prepared for possible hostiles on the interior."

Michael nodded, then signaled the assembled team to move out.

In unison the group lowered black face masks, then pulled up the night vision goggles which had been loosely draped about their necks. While Mentz leaned down to cut the outer fence Michael appeared at Nikita's side and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. As she turned to face him he gave her a penetrating look, then reached up to readjust the fit of her glasses. His gloved hands caressed the line of her jaw and then shifted to slowly slide the device up a notch, his fingers lingering against the sides of her face, stroking gently.

Nikita smiled in response to his ministrations, her hands reaching up to squeeze his. Michael allowed her caress for a few seconds, then nodded his head and gestured for her to go. The moment between them evaporated as he slipped effortlessly back into his role as team leader.

Within minutes the team gained entrance to the compound, four sets of two creeping silently to place explosive devices in prearranged positions. There was never any question that Nikita would accompany Michael as his partner, she simply fell in place behind him and headed off toward their assigned location. They moved as a synchronized pair, each walking in time with the other, one looking left as the other looked right. Always on guard, not for themselves but for each other.

Reaching their designated location, Michael knelt down and reached into his vest to remove the charges as Nikita stepped back, raised her gun and stood watch. In seconds the C4 was in place and they silently retreated from the position. "Group one secure," Michael informed Birkoff through his com-link, "moving to place second set of charges now."

"Got it," Birkoff replied in a steely tone of voice. He seemed to mature more with each passing day, Nikita thought to herself as she listened to him update Michael on the status of the other three teams. Her boyish computer geek was rapidly evolving into a self-possessed adult. A part of her sort of missed the way he used to look up to her like a younger brother seeking approval, but another part of her was proud of his newfound sophistication.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a strange feeling began to trickle down her spine… A premonition, perhaps… Turning, she caught a flash of movement and only had a second to see a tell-tale red laser beam affix itself to Michael's chest. She never even had time to yell, she just jumped.

One moment Michael was heading to their secondary location, the next moment Nikita hurled herself against him as the report of a gun firing echoed in the air. He felt the bullet hit her as she hit him, sending them both sprawling onto the cold concrete floor. Without even thinking Michael covered her body with his own and raised his arm to fire in the direction from which the bullet had come. His aim was true, and it was lethal.

"Nikita!" he urged as loudly as he dared. He reached down to confirm her pulse, then shook her gently to bring her awake. When she did not respond he quickly removed her glasses and pulled the black stocking from her face. He rapidly removed his own facial gear, straddled her and dipped down to press his cheek against her mouth to see if she was breathing.

She was.

"Nikita!" he urged again, pressing his hands against her body, searching for injuries. As his fingers approached her chest he heard her moan. It was not so much a sound of pain as it was one of annoyance. "Ouch!" she said accusingly, her eyes opening to find Michael hovering inches above her face. He looked stricken as he gazed at her with an expression of relief tinged with fear.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his touch shifting from probing to soothing.

"Fine," she replied quietly, "It hit the vest."

Michael closed his eyes, afraid to let Nikita see how much she had scared him. When he reopened them, his mask was firmly in place. "We have to position the second set of charges."

"I know."

Michael stood, surveyed the area for additional hostiles and then assisted Nikita to her feet. She was shaken, but otherwise okay. He placed a steadying hand against her shoulder and said, "We're behind schedule. Can you run?"

Nikita nodded in response, not willing to jeopardize the mission by telling Michael that the bullet might have penetrated part of the vest. A strange numbing sensation was starting to spread across her back, but she grit her teeth and shook it off.

Michael acknowledged her nod by giving her shoulder a light squeeze, then said, "Let's go."

They set out for the secondary location, Nikita trailing behind Michael as he swiftly navigated through an intricately braided maze of pipes. With each step Nikita seemed to lag further and further behind until she lost him in the distance. She tried to call out but found her voice frozen in her throat. Gasping for air, she stopped to rest against a pumping station and slowly slid to the ground. Within moments she was unconscious.

Michael could sense the moment that Nikita was no longer behind him. Somehow, over the years, he had found himself to be attuned to her presence. It was what had guided him to her when she was captured by Red Cell; it was what guided him to her now. "Birkoff, I need back-up," he voiced into his com-link as he turned away from his objective and retraced his steps. "Nikita is down. Send team three in to detonate our secondary location."

Birkoff's voice was laced with concern as he relayed Michael's commands to team three, then inquired as to Nikita's status.

Michael ignored Birkoff's questions in his ear as he caught sight of her fallen form. Breaking out into a full run, he reached her in a matter of moments and knelt to assess her condition. Her skin was hot to the touch, her breathing raspy, her eyes unresponsive. Michael traced his hands over her form searching for the cause of her injury, but found nothing. He removed her vest and found no trace of blood where the bullet had impacted it. Casting the garment aside, he rolled her onto her side and raised the fabric of her jacket to expose the area on her back where the bullet would have hit. The skin was raw and rapidly bruising, but intact. "Nikita!" he whispered against her ear as he lightly slapped her face in an attempt to rouse her.

No response.

Michael was at a loss… He was accustomed to dealing with anomalies in the field, but somehow when the anomaly was Nikita he found it hard to concentrate. All he knew was that she was unconscious, and she needed medical help that he was not qualified to give. Gathering his strength he pulled her forward, eased her over his shoulder and headed toward their exit point.

His mind was overwhelmed by the understanding that whatever had happened was the direct result of her diving in front of a bullet that was meant for him… The knowledge that she had risked her life for him didn't cause Michael to feel flattered, it caused him to feel angry. He wasn't worth the sacrifice, and when Nikita was fully recovered he intended to tell her that in no uncertain terms.

His eyes were burning with purpose as he reached the van and deposited Nikita on one of the couches inside. As he set her down he could hear her breathing become more and more labored with each passing minute. He could see her cartoid artery fluttering rapidly. He could feel the warmth of her fever radiating from every pore of her body.

Lifting his head, his eyes encountered the concerned gazes of the rest of his team. In response to their unspoken question regarding what had happened he replied, "I don't know…"

Placing a palm against her warm forehead, he turned to Birkoff. "Are the charges set?"

"Yes," Birkoff replied quietly, his distraction over Nikita's illness evident in the sound of his voice.

Michael nodded, then gave the order to detonate. As the van pulled away from the site he ignored the prying eyes of his team members and pulled Nikita against him. "Hold on," he murmured softly against her hair as he lowered his hand to stroke the side of her cheek. He almost recoiled from the heat of her skin, her fever had become so high in such a short time. Closing his eyes, he prayed that they would reach MedLab in time.

*****

*She'll be fine*

Madeline's words echoed in Michael's head as he stared down at Nikita's slumbering form. After a harrowing journey back to Section and several hours of testing and treatment her mysterious ailment had finally been diagnosed. The bullet which she had deflected had been coated with a rare nerve agent which had seeped through the fabric of her vest and been absorbed into her skin.

Had Michael not removed the vest and limited her exposure to the toxin she would have died. As it was, she had come dangerously close. He hoped that he would never again have to endure the feeling of complete helplessness that had permeated his existence for the past several hours. He had been able to do nothing but wait in the confines of his office, monitoring her status as best he could via computer, all the while pretending that his concern was purely professional. He wanted to be with her, to hold her, to comfort her in her delirium, but he was handicapped by the fact that such attention was not allowed. As far as the general population of Section was concerned he was nothing more than her colleague.

Finally, Madeline had been kind enough to stop by and update Michael as to Nikita's condition. She actually took the time to explain to him that while there would be no permanent damage, Nikita would be disoriented for several days as her system recalibrated itself. Her senses of balance, depth perception and eyesight were liable to be affected during this period. They would not know to what degree the symptoms would manifest themselves until she regained consciousness.

Madeline had been surprisingly compassionate as she outlined the short-term effects of Nikita's exposure, and if Michael had been capable of coherent thought after hearing the news that Nikita was out of danger he would have wondered at the real source behind her visit. Sympathy was not a word that was usually associated with her presence.

He had stayed in his office late into the night, waiting until only a skeleton staff of personnel were on duty, and then he had headed to MedLab. To his relief the area was deserted. The evening nurse on duty was stationed in a separate room and would be notified via computer if the status on any of the patients being monitored changed.

*She'll be fine*

She didn't look fine, he thought as he stood over her. Her forehead was still hot to the touch, her breathing continued to be slow and labored. What was perhaps most unnerving to him was her absolute stillness. He knew her to be a restless sleeper, constantly moving, often waking him in the process. But here, she was completely motionless. Inanimate. An unwrinkled white sheet lay over her inert torso like a shroud.

Noticing that her lips were drying out, he wandered over to the supply cabinet and procured a jar of petroleum jelly. He dabbed a sample of the salve onto his forefinger and rubbed it gently against her mouth until it was absorbed. His finger remained against her face, tracing her features, taking the rare opportunity to appreciate her beauty unobserved.

Confident that there were no cameras in the area, he leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead, smoothing back her hair in the process. She stirred and turned her head toward him as she instinctively recognized his presence. Michael took the time to press yet another soft kiss against her face, then stood up to pull a chair over to the side of her bed. As he settled himself against the hard metal frame of the seat he reached over and took her hand in his. He continued to hold it, absently tracing his fingers against her palm, as he contemplated the miracle of her existence in a place such as Section.

*She'll be fine*

He repeated the phrase to himself like a mantra as exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell asleep.

*****

Michael awoke several hours later to the rapid beeping of Nikita's heart monitor. In a flash his eyes opened and he stood straight up only to find his movement constricted by the force of Nikita's grip. Her hand held his like a vise. Her breathing was erratic as she inhaled great gulping breaths and turned her head restlessly on the pillow. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Suffering silently, she fairly radiated terror.

Michael immediately moved to calm her. He placed his free hand against her face, then leaned over to whisper comforting words against her ear. Within seconds her heart rate slowed and her breathing became more even.

"Michael?" she asked groggily. Her eyes seemed unable to focus as she turned her head toward his face.

"Shhhhh," he soothed. "I'm here."

"I thought…" She inhaled sharply, a deep shudder reverberating through her system. "…I thought I was with Red Cell."

The disorientation, the feeling of residual dementia, it had been a sensation so similar to the effects of the psychotropic drugs that Red Cell had used during her captivity that as she had slowly gained consciousness she had imagined herself in the waking version of her worst nightmare. It was the sound of her heart monitor that had initially set her off, and as her panic increased so too did the rate of its beeping, which only served to escalate her fear even further. Only the lilting sound of Michael's voice had grounded her and caused her fear to dissipate.

Blinking slowly at first and then more rapidly, Nikita suddenly became aware that she couldn't focus. She could see Michael's outline in shadow, but that was all. "I can't see you," she said softly, confusion evident in her voice. She tried to raise her hand to touch his face but found herself unable to lift her arm more than a few inches. It wasn't that she didn't have the strength, it was that she lacked the coordination. Her brain couldn't seem to send the proper signal.

The beeping of her heart monitor started to increase yet again as she asked in a panicked voice, "What's wrong?"

Michael reached over and grasped the hand that she had tried to lift. "You were exposed to a nerve agent when you were hit by that bullet…"

"Nerve agent?" The beeping of the monitor intensified. Nikita had developed an extensive knowledge of chemical weapons during her tenure in Section and she was well aware of the debilitating and often fatal effects of nerve agents. Individuals who were exposed to them and lived often wished that they had died quickly instead.

"Shhhh, you'll be fine," he continued as his thumb caressed the back of her hand. "Your exposure was minimal. The effects should wear off in a few days."

She didn't feel fine. Her whole body ached and she was so unbearably hot. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to bring his face into focus. She just wanted to see him, to touch him, to look into his beautiful green eyes and reassure herself that he was telling the truth. "Don't lie to me, Michael… Not about this."

Sensing her need to be close, Michael leaned over and rested his cheek against her forehead. He knew what she was asking. She was afraid that she was terminal and he was trying to make her final hours as painless as possible. "I'm not lying, Nikita. I would never lie to you about something like this."

"Promise?"

He tilted his head to kiss the bridge of her nose. "Promise."

She took an unsteady breath and closed her eyes, feeling herself starting to lapse back into unconsciousness. Just the effort of talking with Michael was tiring. "I trust you," she sighed as sleep claimed her once again.

The heart monitor returned to its normal rhythm.

Michael allowed his eyes to close as he continued to keep his cheek pressed against her face. He was stunned by her admission that she trusted him.

She trusted him…

She had told him recently that she would try, but he hadn't expected her acceptance so soon. In the world in which they lived trust was almost harder to come by than love. Nikita had defied the odds and offered him both. He felt as though he had just been given the most precious gift in the world, and he fully intended to do everything in his power to protect it. To honor it. And, whenever possible, to reciprocate it.

Settling himself back down into the chair by her bed, he watched over Nikita while she slept. He stayed by her side the entire night, holding her hand, until morning came and he had to abandon his vigil. Brushing a final kiss against her face, his silently departed the area before the day shift noticed his presence.

*****

"…I really don't care about standard procedure right now, Madeline," Nikita's voice rasped as she stood on wobbly legs next to her bed later the following day. Her eyes were scrunched in an unsuccessful attempt to glare at the brunette woman who stood not five feet from her. The hostility of her gaze was tempered by the tears which continued to form in reaction to the bright fluorescent lights of MedLab. They dripped down her cheeks unchecked as Nikita required both hands to keep herself upright by grasping the mattress behind her.

"Nikita," Madeline began in what she hoped was a soothing tone, "You know we can't let you leave Section if you are incapable of defending yourself. You need to rest here for a few more days."

"Well, I don't want to stay here for a few more days." Nikita knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn't help it. Ever since her abduction MedLab gave her the willies. "Look, we both know I don't like MedLab. We both know why I don't like MedLab. I'm sure someone would drive me home if I asked, and once there I'll be fine." Nikita tried to suggest her plan in a matter-of-fact voice. If Madeline detected any hints of weakness aside from her eyesight she would never be allowed to leave.

Madeline recognized Nikita's fears, and was even sympathetic to a certain degree. However, her understanding did not extend to allowing Nikita to endanger herself on the outside. Rules were rules, and they were created for a reason. "I understand your perspective Nikita, and we will address your fears at a later date, right now I think you should get back in bed before you aggravate your injuries."

"I'll be fine, Madeline," Nikita ground out as her fever threatened to flatten her to the floor. She hoped that Madeline would relent soon because she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up her front.

"Enough, Nikita. Get in bed or I'll have your stay extended."

Nikita opened her mouth to reply, only to find herself interrupted by another voice. A soft, lyrical voice with a devastating French accent. "I'll take her."

Michael stood in the doorway, his face devoid of expression as both Madeline and Nikita swiveled their heads to acknowledge his presence. Madeline's eyes registered relief. Nikita blinked in an attempt to bring him closer into focus, but only managed to generate a tall blob of black.

The relief that Michael had seen in Madeline's eyes at his interruption soon turned to suspicion. "You'll take her?" she asked, attempting to determine what was going on. Michael was supposed to get Nikita back in bed, not support her desire to leave.

He clasped his hands loosely in front, his expression as fathomless as always. "Yes."

When Michael had been summoned to MedLab he had expected the worst. He'd been working on a mission profile when Birkoff had buzzed in and informed him that his presence had been requested by Madeline. He'd stopped typing at the news, his hands frozen over his keyboard, as he'd asked in as detached a voice as he could manage whether or not the situation involved Nikita. Birkoff had replied in the affirmative and Michael had flipped off his computer, stood up and exited his office in controlled haste.

As he'd approached MedLab he'd buttoned his jacket, almost as if he was arming himself in preparation for what he might find. Had Madeline lied to him?, he'd wondered. Was Nikita terminal and Madeline was trying to protect them both? Upon nearing Nikita's room and hearing the argument in progress he had actually stopped walking, closed his eyes and taken a moment to compose himself. His presence had been requested to calm her down, not to witness her final moments. As he'd stood in the entrance to the room, watching Nikita attempt to stand upright while trying to convince Madeline of her relative health, he was overwhelmed once again by his overriding desire to protect her. To cradle her… And so, he'd offered to take her to a place where he could do just that.

"Don't you have work you should be doing?" Madeline asked in a voice that resembled a parent informing an errant child that they should be doing homework rather than watching television.

"I can work from home."

Well, here was an argument that Madeline could refute easily. "Nikita doesn't have the necessary equipment for that at home."

"My home," Michael clarified.

Nikita and Madeline answered in unison. "Your home?"

Michael didn't bother to reply, he merely engaged Madeline in a staring contest that endured for several minutes. Finally, Madeline turned to look at Nikita, then back to Michael. "Fine. You have two days. See that you take the proper medication with you."

Giving Michael a final penetrating look, she exited the room. Once out of Michael's eyesight she allowed herself a small smile. The look of surprise on Nikita's face at Michael's offer had been so priceless it had taken every ounce of willpower not to laugh. It was a shame that there were no surveillance cameras in the room. She would have loved to pull the tape and share the conversation with Operations…

Nikita sagged against the bed in relief as she heard Madeline leave. She closed her eyes, wincing at the burning sensation which accompanied the movement, then raised her arms to slowly wipe the tears from her cheeks. She felt Michael's presence as he crossed the room and pulled out a handkerchief to gently dry her face.

Nikita let her hands fall as she enjoyed his attention. When he was done she murmured, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Nikita opened her eyes, happy to discover that Michael was standing close enough for her to discern most of his features. She let her eyes linger against his lips, then raised them to encounter his gaze. Her voice was slightly suspicious as she asked, "Are you really taking me home with you?"

His hand reached up to claim hers. "Yes."

"When do we leave?"

"Soon." His hand held hers, stroking gently.

"How soon?"

Michael allowed himself the hint of a smile at the blatancy of Nikita's curiosity. The smile rapidly disappeared when he recalled the reason he was taking her home. Reaching up to press his palm against her forehead, he found her temperature to still be quite warm. Obviously, her system was still fighting the toxins. It also looked to him like her legs were still shaking.

"I need to finish a few things here first. Take a nap and I'll be by in a few hours."

Nikita willingly climbed in to bed, not wanting to admit how good the idea of a short nap sounded. Once under the covers, she smiled up at Michael as he tucked the sheet around her shoulders. "Promise?"

"Promise."

*****

Michael was true to his word. He tied up a few loose ends, raided Nikita's locker for several changes of her clothes, then returned to MedLab to pick up his patient. He managed to accomplish all of his tasks in less than two hours.

When he arrived in MedLab he found Nikita sleeping yet again and he was reluctant to wake her. He knew how battered her system was and how important rest was for her recovery. Nikita, however, had other plans. She too had become attuned to Michael's presence over the years and she stirred awake the moment he moved to within a few feet of her bed.

Her eyes blinked open to find him regarding her with a curiously tender expression. From the way he quickly shuttered the look, she rightly assumed that her return to consciousness had caught him unaware, unguarded.

"Hi," she said softly, smiling at the notion that she had just witnessed him expressing his true feelings. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

Nikita smiled wider, so excited by the prospect of seeing Michael's home that she temporarily forgot why she was going there in the first place. She quickly sat up in bed and was rewarded with a head rush so fierce that it almost caused her to black out. It passed after a few moments, but not before Michael saw the pain reflected in her face. He stepped forward to support her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, took a steadying breath and slid her feet onto the floor.

Michael held her against him as she regained her balance and could not help but notice that her fever had not abated. "I'm not so sure you should leave MedLab," he said with some concern.

Nikita pulled back slightly to peer up at his face. "Are you chickening out on me?"

"No, I just…"

"Good. Can we leave now?"

Michael sighed, accepting defeat, then offered his arm to escort a wobbly Nikita out of MedLab. She was silent until they were safely seated in his car and speeding away from Section. Once inside the city limits, she turned to him and asked, "why?"

Michael kept his eyes on the road ahead of him so he did not notice the thoughtful, somewhat bemused expression on her face. "Why, what?"

"Why are you bringing me home with you?"

Michael paused for a moment as he eased the car into a graceful stop at a red light. He stared ahead, thinking of an appropriate reply, then turned to regard Nikita. She was softly bathed in light, her features inquisitive but vulnerable. She was beautiful… and she was his.

"Because I trust you."

****

Nikita awoke quickly, almost as if she had been startled by a strange sound. A quick survey of her surroundings, however, revealed that she was alone and the room was silent. It wasn't until she noticed that her hair was damp and plastered against the back of her neck, and that she was tired but at the same time strangely refreshed, that the cause of her break from sleep became apparent. Her fever had broken. Finally.

Raising her head, she noted that the clock by the side of the bed read shortly after 2:00 am.

It occurred to her that for the first time in several days she actually felt… normal. Her vision had finally cleared and the medication she had been given in MedLab had taken care of any lingering muscle aches. She was warm and comfortable, snuggled in Michael's bed and wrapped in the warmth of his feather duvet. His masculine scent was everywhere… on the flannel sheets, the coverlet and most especially on the pillow she pressed against her face. She inhaled slowly and deeply, relishing her location.

Michael's bed.

A satisfied smile spread across her face as she rolled onto her back and stared at the shadowy ceiling above. She wasn't sure what she had expected… a military cot thrown against the corner of a stark gray room? Hermetically sealed sheets? Certainly not something so sinfully comfortable, so inviting. As she rolled back onto her side and pulled the duvet tightly around her she realized she felt content. Even without Michael there, it was as if she felt his embrace. His love…

He had brought her there because he said that he trusted her. Finally, he was giving her tangible proof that he had let her into his life and into his heart. The knowledge infused Nikita with warmth as she recalled the care with which he had brought her home earlier that evening. How he had gently walked her into his bedroom, slipped off her shoes, deposited her in his bed and tucked the covers around her. When he told her to rest it had only taken one look from her to get him to stay, to sit down on the bed and pull her up against his chest. She recalled the strength and security of his arms as she had been lulled to sleep by the steady sound of his heart beating against her ear.

When he had left her side and where he was now, she had no idea. She assumed that he was downstairs.

Nikita inhaled Michael's fragrance from his bedding once again but found that she was no longer satisfied with just his scent. She wanted to see him, to feel him, to taste him… and so she left her warm cocoon to go in search of him.

Finding the bag of clothes which Michael had taken from her Section locker as she crossed the room, Nikita quickly decided to change out of her standard issue MedLab whites. Her heart contracted when she found what Michael had packed for her… There, carefully folded among t-shirts and leggings, was the white silk slip she had worn on the Armel mission. She wondered sometimes if that night had meant as much to him as it had to her… Did he realize what he had packed? Or did he merely grab the first garment he came across that looked like a nightgown? Time would tell, she supposed, as she dressed and went into the bathroom to splash some water against her face.

The air seemed cool to Nikita after having been enveloped in a warm bed, and so when she spotted one of Michael's robes hanging on the back of his bathroom door she quickly put it on. His scent lingered in the fabric of the robe much as it had on his sheets, and Nikita smiled as she hugged the soft silk against her. Her mouth quirked as she noted the robe's color. It was, of course, black.

Nikita exited the bedroom and meandered down a short hall to the flight of stairs that led to the sprawling main area of Michael's home. She'd been too tired to notice her surroundings when he'd brought her in earlier that evening. She'd registered that he lived in a loft, it was split-level and it was high enough off the ground to make it difficult for hostiles to use anything but the front door.

Now, she found herself admiring an abundance of exposed brick, hardwood floors and natural wood. It was a modern space filled with antiques, where black leather sofas complemented cherry bookcases filled with a sea of hardback titles. An old timber mantel graced a side wall. Everywhere she looked were elements of the Michael she knew… Total order conveyed through a rational floor plan and a complete economy of space. There were no pets, no plants, not a single living thing... And yet, the room had an interior warmth, a subtle resonance, that made it welcoming.

Nikita decided that it suited him.

She paused in the doorway to the darkened main room as she caught sight of him. Still dressed in his standard black suit, he stood against an oversized far window like a sentinel, his back straight, his chin up, his arms dangling loosely at his sides. His face was calm, contemplative even, as a shaft of broken moonlight illuminated his strong features. What did he see?, she wondered. Or were his thoughts directed inward?

Nikita slowly wandered across the room, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. As she neared Michael she became aware of the direction of his gaze. His loft overlooked the river, which rippled sluggishly several stories below. He seemed mesmerized by effect that the moonlight had on the water.

Nikita approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his chest as she tipped her chin up onto his right shoulder. "Nice view," she breathed into his ear as she got a closer look at the river below.

Michael raised his arms to cover hers, his thumbs stroking the delicate skin of her wrists. Then, he turned so that his back was to the window and he was facing Nikita directly. His eyes caressed her face, shifting slowly back and forth between her forehead and her lips. He lifted a hand to trace the outline of her cheekbone. His voice was pregnant with meaning as he replied, "Yes, it is."

Nikita glowed as his compliment registered, her cheeks turning pink under his watchful eye.

Michael raised the back of his hand to feel her forehead, a gesture which he had been making with some regularity over the past few days. For the first time he found her skin cool to the touch. Upon further inspection he noted that her eyes were clear and without pain or disorientation. Confident that she was well, he broached the subject which had caused him to be standing before his window, brooding, at 2:00 in the morning.

"Don't ever do that again," he stated softly but emphatically.

Nikita reached up and placed her palms against his chest. She smiled as she replied, "What? Compliment your view?" Her splayed hands journeyed upward to squeeze his shoulders.

Michael grabbed her wrists, effectively immobilizing her. Nikita's eyes snapped up to meet his and were surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He seemed angry as he explained, "Take a bullet meant for me."

Nikita's eyes widened at his response. Indignant at his censure, she replied, "I happen to think you're worth it." It was the first thing that came into her mind, and it was the truth.

"I'm not." To Michael the idea of Nikita trading her life for his was abhorrent, an insult. It was a thought that should never be contemplated, let alone acted upon. He released her arms and stepped back, distancing himself to impress upon her the importance of his message.

Nikita was astounded by his reply… She had long ago noticed that Michael acted as though he had little concern for his own personal safety, but she'd always thought that his reckless behavior was born of confidence in the belief that he would succeed, and yes, a certain amount of egotism. But not self loathing. Did he really attach so little value to his own life? Staring into his eyes, she could see that he did. She wanted to physically harm the people who had subverted his self worth for the good of Section. "That's for me to decide, not you."

Her eyes implored him to understand that he was of value, that he was loved…

When he negatively shook his head and attempted to reply Nikita pressed her finger against his lips and cut him off. "I love you, Michael. With that love comes protection."

"I don't want or need your protection."

Their eyes connected as he completed his sentence, each aware of a similar conversation that taken place shortly before her supposed cancellation. Only that time, it was Nikita who had told Michael that she did not require his protection… And he had replied that without it she would be dead.

Now, Nikita's raised eyebrow communicated that exact same thought to Michael. Had she not pushed him aside…

Michael released a slow sigh as he accepted Nikita's truth. While he strove to protect her and keep her safe, she did the same for him. As much as he might want her to stop, she never would. And neither would he. The room was still as their silent conversation continued, each slowly acknowledging the reality of their relationship… Coming to terms with the fact that they lived to protect each other…

He supposed that was what made them such a formidable team in the field. Certainly, it was why Madeline and Operations allowed their personal connection outside of Section to continue. It was patently clear that together they were stronger than either one was alone. Truly, they were a fluid pair.

Michael wished as he often did that their lives could have been different. That they could have existed in a world that did not require such unreasonable expectations and personal sacrifices on a regular basis. However, he was well aware that they did not now, nor would they ever, inhabit such a world. It was up to them to find sanctuary as best they could.

He could see similar emotions reflected in Nikita's eyes as she steadily regarded him. Concern for him was most apparent, followed closely by resignation to their situation and finally… love. It was almost as if she had convinced herself that life in Section was the price she had to pay to be with him. To her, it was worth it.

He told himself yet again that he was not worthy of her, even as he reached up to gently touch her face. He told himself as he had so many times before that he should walk away, but he was not able to. He was too weak, and her allure was too strong. He thanked whatever higher power had caused her to love him, for without that constant in his life he would be lost. As melodramatic as it sounded, she had become the center of his existence.

His hand slowly began to continue the exploration of her face which he had begun earlier. His thumb contoured her lower lip. His fingers cupped her chin. He found himself awed by her beauty, stunned by the knowledge that the more familiar her features became, the more he loved them. Wanting, needing to be nearer to her, he stepped forward and moved his body closer to hers.

As he brushed against her Nikita could feel a slow, swirling sensation start to take hold. Her pulse accelerated.

She closed her eyes and exhaled a ragged breath as the slow grazing of his fingers against her face was replaced by the warmth of his breath… of his lips. He was so careful, so gentle, as he mapped her features with his mouth. She felt a whisper soft touch against her brow, then one against her cheek, then one against her mouth. Her lips parted on contact, reaching for his. Finding them…

Their breath mingled as Michael's arms stole across her back and pulled her closer. Her arms responded in kind, burrowing under his jacket and shirt to touch the warm flesh beneath. Their kisses became more urgent, deepening as their heads tilted and their tongues merged. Michael allowed one arm to drift upward as the other continued to press Nikita against him. His wandering hand soon found Nikita's breast, and he used his thumb and forefinger to expertly tease her nipple erect.

His attentions were rewarded with a low cry which erupted from Nikita's throat. She arched her back against him, begging for more.

Michael released her lips as his mouth slowly, torturously trailed a wet path down to her breast. He pushed aside her robe and suckled her through the thin silk of her nightgown, wetting the fabric with his tongue. His teeth nipped at her gently, causing her other nipple to harden in anticipation.

Nikita was beyond coherent speech as Michael's free hand slid down her back and under her gown. He scratched the back of her thigh, his fingers kneading her pliable flesh.

They groaned simultaneously as his hand moved higher and he discovered that she wasn't wearing any underwear. He breathed her name reverently, she responded by breathing his.

Nikita gave another small cry when his hands suddenly retreated, and his mouth moved away from her breast. She opened her eyes to find his face inches from hers. She grabbed at his shoulders and tried to pull him back against her, but he resisted.

"Mi.-.", she began, only to have his fingers silence her.

"Not here," he said in a whisper.

"Not here?"

His eyes practically gleamed as he said, "Do you know how many times I have dreamed of making love to you in my bed?"

Nikita rewarded him with a curiously feminine smile of complicit understanding. "How many times?" she responded huskily, her hands reaching forward to remove his jacket.

"Many, many times…" The jacket hit the floor.

Nikita reached for his shirt, tugging it up over his head. "How many ways?"

Michael stood before her now clad only in black trousers. His chest seemed to glow in the pale light, his prominent muscles looking like chiseled marble. His eyes bored into hers. "Many different ways…" he replied as he swiftly pulled Nikita's robe off and tossed it on a nearby chair.

He inhaled sharply when he realized what she was wearing. Smiling, he stepped forward and fingered a delicate shoulder strap. As Nikita went to slip the dress off he said, "No… Leave it on."

"Leave it on?"

His hand continued to absently stroke the material as he remembered the last time she had worn the garment… Five days of abstinent torture eclipsed by one night of total ecstasy…

"…For now," he elaborated. Their eyes met, and it was Nikita's turn to smile as she became aware that he had remembered the dress. He might not have packed it on purpose, but he recognized it. Memories of that night flooded through her, followed closely by recollections of all the other times that they had made love. Each one special… memorable…

"I want you," she rasped, desire evident in her voice, her eyes and her still erect nipples.

Michael reached for her, leaning forward for a slow, deep, thrusting kiss that left her weak at the knees. Then, he took her hand and led her slowly from the room. He brushed up against her once in the hallway, and once again at the bottom of the stairs. As he guided her up the staircase, he let his hand linger on the small of her back to propel her down the hall and into his room.

He stopped at the doorway, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. She could feel his arousal against her bottom as he playfully nudged it against her. With his other hand he reached up to lift Nikita's hair, then he leaned down and placed a series of small kisses at the nape of her neck.

Nikita sighed in pleasure, pressing herself back against his erection, feeling him harden with each passing minute. His lips moved upward to nibble on her earlobe. His hips thrust teasingly back and forth against her.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked archly.

A light chuckle was Michael's only response. The hand that was around her waist ventured lower until his palm was pressed against her mound and his fingers were teasing the sensitive flesh just below. The silk dress sliding back and forth against her, gently abrading her, left Nikita sighing Michael's name.

Soon, just his fingers weren't enough.

Nikita turned to face Michael, captured his lips in an aggressive kiss and went to work on his belt. With a swift snap and a tug she removed the offending binding and dropped it to the floor. Still kissing Michael, sliding her tongue sinuously against his, she unfastened his pants and reached inside. Michael groaned deep in the back of his throat as her fingers closed around his shaft and began gently stroking.

His hands, which had been exploring the contours of her lower back, reached upwards to grasp her hair, pull her head back and expose her neck. He licked and bit her delicate skin, marking her… claiming her… Nikita's hands flew to his shoulders for support.

Michael tugged at her dress, pausing in his lovemaking just long enough to pull the garment up over Nikita's head. She stood naked before his appreciate gaze. "Beautiful," he breathed into her ear as he resumed his attentions, his lips claiming hers, his hands cupping her breasts, her bottom.

Michael unerringly guided Nikita toward his bed as he continued his gentle assault. She barely registered that one moment she was standing and the next she was backed up against his mattress, falling, Michael climbing on top of her, his leg separating her thighs, his hand massaging her breast, his lips feasting on hers… Nikita gasped against him, her hips bucking, her pelvis grinding against his muscular thigh.

Her head began to move restlessly back and forth against the pillow as he shifted his position lower… His lips seeking her breast, his strong fingers separating the swollen lips of her sex, entering her, stroking her inside and out. The slick, hot proof of her arousal coated his hand.

Her interior muscles began to flex, tightening in anticipation…

"Michael…" she cried, softly and then much louder. Pleading with him to come with her…

Michael was almost beyond reason as he pulled away, removed his pants and positioned himself above Nikita's spread thighs. Her hands tugged at the bedsheets as she arched her hips upwards, enticing him, welcoming him… He entered her slowly, savoring the sweet friction of their union as he slowly worked his way up her body. Soon, he lay on top of her, inside her, his chest flush with hers, his body supported on braced arms.

"Look at me," he urged Nikita, his face mere inches from hers.

She turned her head, met his gaze and was lost in the emotion she saw there. The tenderness, the trust… the blatant need. His eyes penetrated her soul as his body merged with hers… It was a moment of clarity rather like the eye of a storm… Nikita wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper into her, as she placed her hands against the back of his neck and drew his head down for a soft, gentle kiss that soon became carnal.

Striving to put her pleasure before his own, Michael shifted his position and began to move inside of her, slowly at first, and then with long, thrusting strokes that fed on themselves. Soon, control was lost. He was driven to mate, to possess. Finesse abandoned him as plunged into her swiftly and recklessly, crying her name as she cried his.

Nikita relished his lack of control. Embraced it, even. For she knew that it was the one thing that Michael valued above all else, and the fact that he trusted her enough to abandon it made the moment real.

Their mutual release came swiftly, shocking them both with its fierceness… Nikita cried out, Michael collapsed on top of her. They were drenched in sweat, bathed in the scent of their arousal. Completely sated, completely satisfied…

Michael rolled onto his back, pulling Nikita along with him so she lay nestled against his solid chest. His hand traced a formless pattern on her back, just as hers followed an equally random line across his chest. Neither felt the need to talk… there was nothing to say.

It was only much later when Michael leaned over to cover them with his duvet that Nikita broke the silence. "How many days did Madeline say you can work at home?" she inquired innocently.

"Two."

"Ah," she replied softly, sitting up to straddle him. "And how many different fantasies have you had about me and this bed?"

Michael smiled, a rare happy smile that she had only seen a few times before. His hands snaked up to cover her legs, stroking gently. "Many…"

Nikita stared at his face, her grin broadening as she felt his flesh stir between her thighs. She reached down to lightly stroke him, feeling him harden further, then scooted backwards and leaned forward so that her mouth was mere inches from his shaft. She blew gently, then touched her tongue lightly against its tip. "Was this one of them?"

His affirmative reply was lost in a groan of delight as Nikita took him fully into her mouth.

THE END

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