Alan Harwell wouldn’t stand a chance by the time she was done with him. Not once she combined her dress and her innocent face with the wounded persona she intended to adopt for the evening… The profile indicated that Alan was irresistibly drawn to women in trouble and Nikita planned to play that role to the hilt, just as she had done when she’d staged the fight with Michael at Volaré’s. She would be distressed, distraught. In need of both psychological and physical comfort. Faced with such a formidable combination, Alan would be lost. He would surrender his heart before he had even realized what had happened.

And in the process Nikita would surrender her body…

She told herself that sleeping with Alan was no different than succumbing to interrogation or physical abuse as part of a mission. Both involved bartering her physical well-being to achieve an objective.

She was a whore, plain and simple. She’d been selling herself for Section for years. Accepting that fact didn’t make her situation any easier, but it did let her put it into the proper perspective. This was her decision. She had determined that Alan should be saved, she had determined that she was the one to do it. She certainly hadn’t anticipated factoring sex into the scenario, but it was a chance she had taken. Whenever a valentine mission was designed there was always the risk of consummation. She knew that. To place blame elsewhere was to devalue the scrap of free will that she had been able to assert during her time in Section. To admit that the situation was beyond her control was to take away whatever power she had gained.

She would rather willingly sell herself than become a victim of Section policy. It was a lesson she had learned from Michael…

Was it only a few days ago that she had sat in her quarters silently thankful that he had been able to protect her from ever having to participate in such a degrading scenario? How ironic that the one thing he couldn’t protect her from was herself… She was her own worst enemy. And now she had to live with the results of her actions.

As did Michael.

How did he feel… Really? She knew that he was hurting, she’d seen that much in his eyes when he’d informed her of the change in the tactical. Did he understand? Did he forgive her? When it was over would he still feel the same? Or would he find her different? Less desirable?

Was her participation in this mission sacrificing her relationship with him?

She took a deep breath and prayed that was not the case. Her relationship with him was the only thing that was going to get her through it. It was the only thing that was going to keep her sane…

A knock at her door disturbed her train of thought, immediately causing her to check her watch to verify the time. It was just after six o’clock. Alan wasn’t due for at least another half hour so she wondered who it could be. A neighbor? A quick glance at her surveillance camera revealed Michael instead.

She immediately opened the door and ushered him in. “Michael?” she questioned quickly. “Is something wrong?”

He navigated his way around her apartment, taking his habitual stroll through her kitchen and living room. Once he had completed his circuit he fixed his eyes on her. Physically, she looked beautiful. Psychologically, he wasn’t so sure. “How are you?”

Nikita put on a brave face, determined to be strong for both of them. “I’ll be fine, Michael.”

He came to stand before her and lifted his hand to stroke the soft skin of her cheek. “Will you?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern that he didn’t even try to conceal.

Nikita felt a tremor jolt through her system the moment his flesh touched hers. She had to focus. She couldn’t let herself feel… There was no way she would be able to execute the scenario if she let herself feel. She had to be clinical. Behave as Michael would. He had survived Section by splitting himself in two, and she would do the same. It was the only way to survive.

She stepped back, distancing herself both physically and emotionally. “It’s just sex, right?”

Michael’s eyes widened as his own words came back to haunt him. Just sex? He searched Nikita’s face for a glimpse of the woman he knew, the woman he loved, but she wasn’t there. A stranger was in her place. A stranger with unfathomable blue eyes and a blank expression. It was Nikita’s voice, Nikita’s body… But her soul was absent.

It had begun…

She was learning, he thought… Learning to bury her feelings deep within herself so that nothing she did on a mission could affect the person she was on the inside. Nikita would never have been able to throw his own words back at him in such a cavalier fashion, but Josephine could.

Josephine already had…

He stepped forward and once again raised his hand to cup her face. He felt her pulse quicken at his touch, heard the slight hitch as her breathing became erratic. Her distress became even more prevalent as he slowly rubbed his thumb across her cheek. Each movement erasing the barriers she had erected, each caress exposing the real woman inside. He wanted his Nikita back, if only for a moment. He needed to speak with her, not Josephine…

Unable to resist Michael’s attempt to draw her out, Nikita succumbed to the lure of his touch. In a matter of minutes her bravado faded and her beautiful blue eyes began to fill with silent tears.

Satisfied that he had finally reached her, Michael removed his hand from her face and gathered her into a loose embrace, pressing her shaking form against his and murmuring soothing words into her ear. She spoke, but her voice was muffled against the fabric of his coat.

“What?” he asked softly.

She pushed herself away from his chest and regarded him with an infuriated tear stained expression. “I was fine until you arrived.”

Michael reached up to brush a stray tear off of her cheek. “You will be fine.”

“Will I?” she asked. “Will I really?” She began to pace the room, hands on hips, her usually fluid body strident with repressed anger. “Tonight I am going to have sex with someone I don’t love so that I can breach his defenses and make him care about me so much that he is willing to sacrifice his principles to keep me alive. Then, I am going to use him. Repeatedly. And then, when I can’t use him any more, I’m going to break him…” Nikita took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped a fresh batch of tears from her cheeks. She turned to stare intently at Michael, meeting his eyes in an attempt to press her point. “He’s a good man, Michael… A moral man… And in order to keep him alive I’m going to taint that. I’m going to destroy who he is by forcing him to bargain with the mafia. How can I be fine? How?” Her anguished voice pleaded with him to provide some rationale for her actions but there was nothing to say that she didn’t already know.

“Think about the alternative,” he said solemnly. “Without your interference he would probably be facing an assassin’s bullet.”

“I know…” she sighed, “I just wish…”

“What?”

“…that things could be different.” She gave him a sad smile and let her hands drop to her sides in defeat. Things couldn’t be different, she knew from painful past experience. Section was Section. She and Michael were who they were. Life for them would never be cut and dried. She had to accept that fact and move forward with the mission. She’d vented, now she had to get to work…

Michael watched in fascination as Nikita closed her eyes, took a deep breath and composed herself. She was daunted but not defeated. Within moments she was hurrying into her bathroom to repair her face and adjust her hair, emerging moments later looking as fresh and as beautiful as ever.

Tilting her head to fasten a ruby earring in her ear, she regarded Michael through calm, expressionless eyes. Josephine’s eyes. When that task was accomplished she tilted her head in the other direction and applied the earring’s mate. “Was there another reason you dropped by?”

Michael watched her silently for a moment, then clasped his hands together and revealed the other motivation for his visit. “I will be conducting the surveillance.”

“You… What?… I thought com would be handling it.” She was surprised, pleased, embarrassed. Torn between loathing and loving the idea that he would be there to support her. “Are you sure?” She knew how horrible it had been for her to listen to him romance Amber Carson, why would he willingly endure similar pain if he didn’t have to?

In response to her unspoken question, he replied, “We do this together, Nikita.”

Her mouth gaped open she was so awed by his response. So amazed and stunned at the depth of his commitment. Her eyes silently communicated the words of thanks that her voice seemed incapable of delivering. Then, when more tears threatened to fall, she gently asked him to leave. She knew that if he stayed another moment she would be lost.

Michael nodded at her request, sympathetic to the emotions which were driving her desire for him to go. Unable to depart without touching her one last time, however, he walked over to where she was standing and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be close” he murmured huskily, and then he was gone.

Nikita stared at her door long after he had departed, then she collapsed on her couch and waited silently for her date with Alan to begin.

*****

The cacophonous buzzing of a cocktail reception in full swing assaulted Nikita from every direction.

She stood by Alan’s side, as she had for hours, demurely smiling and nodding as he proudly introduced her around to his friends and acquaintances. He associated with an eclectic mix of people that ranged from high ranking members of government to non-profit volunteers to everyone in between. He treated them all equally and they responded to his innate warmth.

Everyone responded to his warmth… Everyone, that is, except Nikita. Despite the sweltering heat generated by hundreds of bodies pressed in close quarters she couldn’t stop shivering. Fear gripped her heart… The evening loomed before her… The scenario playing itself over and over in her head until she just wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

She reminded herself to focus… focus… focus…

She took deep regulating breaths and willed her heartbeat to return to normal. But the chill remained, a physical reminder of the dark cloud that seemed to be settling on her soul.

As if sensing her withdrawal, Alan draped a hand loosely around her waist and gave her a light squeeze. “Tired?” he murmured sympathetically, providing Nikita with just the opportunity she had been looking for.

“Yes,” she replied with an apologetic sigh, turning to regard him through limpid blue eyes. “Would you mind taking me home?”

“Of course not. We’ve been here for hours and frankly I was getting pretty bored myself. Just let me get your coat and I’ll take you back to your place.”

He turned to leave but Nikita grabbed his forearm. At his quizzical look she let her eyes darken and provided him with a smile that managed to be both innocent and sultry at the same time. “Your home,” she elaborated.

Alan’s face registered complete shock, then pleasant surprise. He reached up and ran his hand across her hair. “Are you sure? I know I came on a bit strong last night… I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“No pressure,” she assured him as she stepped forward to within inches of his sturdy frame. “I don’t want to be alone tonight… I want to be with you.” She accentuated her statement with a gentle press of her palms against his chest.

The combination of her seductive dress, her innocent blue eyes and her electric touch rendered Alan defenseless. He was lost… Hurtling unaware toward a woman with whom he believed himself to be in love.

*****

Alan occupied a palatial estate about a half hour outside of the city. It was a sprawling Tudor mansion with a lush front lawn that screamed of croquet matches and garden parties. Nikita found it both beautiful and charming, even in the dark. It occurred to her that in many ways the building resembled its owner. Graceful, stately and sturdy…

Such thoughts helped to keep her fears at bay, and so it was that she suddenly found herself seated in Alan’s study sipping a brandy. Ordinarily she didn’t indulge in hard liquor on a mission but she knew that tonight she would need the fortification. It warmed her… finally… as nothing else had been able to do.

They talked aimlessly as they sat across from each other on a soft leather sofa… Alan sensing Nikita’s need to be put at ease and finding her all the more desirable for her hesitation. He elaborated on his plans for his business and even discussed his role as an advisor to the President. At Nikita’s request he regaled her with amusing political anecdotes and peccadilloes.

An easy camaraderie fell between them and Nikita was reminded of the feeling of connection that she had experienced with Alan the first time she met him. He was a twin soul, a friend. He was a man worth protecting…

And suddenly, she knew that what she was doing was right. Alan Harwell was no Perry Bauer. He would respect her and treat her well… She had always known that the day would come when she would be expected to execute a valentine mission. And if she had to do so, she could think of no better, more caring person with whom to do it.

On some level Alan sensed her capitulation, because he stopped talking in mid-sentence and gave her a small, inquiring smile. She set down her brandy and returned the grin, causing his to bloom wider.

In silent accord they stood up, and then Alan took Nikita’s hand and gently walked her upstairs to his bedroom.

*****

Outside the quaint stone fencing surrounding the Harwell estate Michael listened to the sounds of a couple in love. He sat safely inside the plush interior of his midnight black Mercedes, protected from the outside world by inches of thick metal and bulletproof glass. And yet nothing could safeguard him from the sounds within…

The com unit in his ear had become a torture medium the likes of which he had never experienced before.

Every sound was magnified, rippling through his head and then his heart. He heard Nikita sigh, a soft whispered cry of arousal that begged for his touch… Images flashed through his brain… Images of her writhing in ecstasy beneath him, over him… Her eyes white hot with passion, her sotto voice crying out his name over and over again. But it wasn’t his name that she called. It was Alan’s.

Black gloved hands fisted over the steering wheel as the seeds of an emotion which had been gestating for days finally unfurled.

Jealousy.

Michael could feel it inside of him, consuming him, overpowering him, ricocheting through his body with the force of a magnum pistol. Even as he recognized it for what it was he could not control it. It would not be denied…

He stared ahead unseeing, unblinking, as he heard the couple climax. If his eyes had been lasers they would have burned a hole straight through his windshield.

Quiet descended, briefly, leaving Michael alone for a moment to grapple with the pain which pulsed though his system unchecked. But before he could even begin to regain control he was bombarded with the sounds of bodies shifting, sheets rustling and a sated feminine laugh. Nikita’s laugh…

It was his favorite laugh. A low, throaty chuckle that could make a pitch dark room seem alive with light. It demanded his attention and he repressed the desire to roll on top of her and kiss her laughing lips senseless… He couldn’t… She wasn’t there.

His world stopped the moment he heard Alan solemnly whisper, “I love you.”

His eyes closed, his head bowed and his hands slid slowly off of the steering wheel as he heard her breathless reply. “I love you, too.”

Unable to withstand another minute of surveillance, Michael deliberately removed the com link from his ear and placed it in the protective case inside his jacket. Then he depressed the clutch, flipped the key in his ignition and sped off as fast as possible. He had no final destination in mind as he left, he only knew that he couldn’t stay.

A Beethoven piano concerto flowed through the car’s interior, but he remained unaffected by its soothing tones. He could only hear Nikita… Her voice, her cry… And a name that was not his own.

*****

Unable to sleep, Nikita stood in the corner of Alan’s bedroom staring blindly out an oversized French window. Although she’d gathered a chenille blanket and wrapped it loosely around her shoulders she was oblivious to the feel of the soft silky weave as it caressed her naked skin. Her thoughts were directed inward as she assimilated what she had just done, and what she had just learned.

So many times she had listened… So many times she had tried to play devil’s advocate… But only now did she finally understand…

She could picture the moment like it was yesterday… She on her chaise lounge, Michael sitting at her feet gently stroking her calf… He’d just returned from his seduction of Amber Carson and had seemed oblivious to the pain and confusion that she had been feeling as a direct result of his action. She’d asked him why he had done it, and he’d seemed honestly perplexed by the question. “It’s just sex,” he had responded, and she’d been so furious at his insensitivity that she’d kicked him out of her apartment. Later, he’d apologized to her on a dance floor… He’d elaborated on his reasons for seducing Amber, but in the end he had justified his actions with the same phrase. “It’s just sex.”

She forgave him at the time because she knew that he honestly believed his reasoning was true, but she hadn’t believed it herself. Even when she’d thrown the phrase back at him in her apartment earlier that evening she’d had no idea of what she was really saying… She couldn’t comprehend it. Didn’t want to comprehend it…

And now, here she was, wrapped in another man’s bedding standing in front of a moonlit window after having participated in a long, active, healthy bout of sex. Not making love, but having sex.

She could tell the difference between the two. Now.

She could finally understand what Michael had meant when he had added a caveat to his argument… He’d told her that sex with Amber had nothing to do with how he felt about her. She’d believed him then because she’d wanted to.. Needed to… But she had never been able to erase the niggling little voice in the back of her head that told her that it was impossible for him to have sex with a mark and feel nothing profound. There was no way he could separate himself so completely.

But there was… She had just done it.

She’d had sex with someone she didn’t love and had even enjoyed it…

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that fact… The experience was still too raw, too new. It helped that Alan was a kind and handsome man, she supposed, as she turned toward the bed and looked over to where his inert form lay. He slept on his stomach with one knee slightly raised and one arm thrown out as if to reach for her. His torso was tangled in the bed linens, leaving his feet and his muscular back exposed. He had a beautiful body… A long, lithe swimmer’s body that was capable of providing immense pleasure… And he had such very talented hands…

And yet, even at that moment when they had climaxed, she had known that the pleasure was only physical. It was the same release she felt after a really satisfying run or a grueling session with her sensei. It was nothing like what she felt when she was with Michael…

She clutched the blanket more tightly around her as she remembered what it was like to be loved by him… The connection, the completeness, the utter perfection of their union. There was nothing in the world that compared to what she felt when she looked into his eyes and felt his body joined with hers. Absolutely nothing.

Sleeping with Alan had been worth it if only for the security that came with the self knowledge she had gained from the experience. But would Michael believe her when she told him that? If she looked him in the eye and used his own argument against him, as she had earlier that evening, would he see the logic in the statement? Or would he be too hurt by her actions to be objective? Would he retreat back into himself as he had so many times before?

What would be the price of the knowledge she had gained?

Michael had been on surveillance. He had heard everything from the moment she exited her apartment to the moment she told Alan she loved him… He had heard her whisper the same endearments to Alan that she whispered to him… He had heard her cry out in complete abandon… Did he regret his decision to conduct the surveillance? Probably.

Nikita closed her eyes, filled with guilt at what she had put Michael through that evening. Knowing how much Michael’s seduction of Amber had hurt her feelings, she was sympathetic to the pain her actions with Alan would have caused him.

She’d finally learned her lesson, she realized. She understood the difference between love for personal fulfillment and sex for the sake of the mission. She understood that sometimes bodies were the most effective weapons. She understood the reasoning behind all of the oblique excuses Michael had fed her over the years… She’d graduated… She was done. She didn’t want to play the game any more… But as she shivered and pulled the blanket even closer she realized that her education was just beginning.

The scenario wasn’t over. According to Michael it wouldn’t be over for several months, perhaps even longer. Nikita felt tainted by the knowledge that she would have to continue to manipulate Alan for such an extended period of time. Again, she was assaulted by a feeling of acute guilt at what she was perpetrating against him. He’d freely given her his love and now Section was going to use it to barter with the devil. And once he realized what had been done, he would never be the same. He would never put his trust in a woman again.

Nikita dipped her head forward as she felt another blinding guilt-induced headache begin to slowly work its way through her skull. The pressure gradually increased, reducing her eye sockets to tiny loci of pain. Even her lips started to go numb. Knowing that she would be unable to stand under her own power much longer she abandoned her stance by the window and silently crept back into bed with Alan. He reacted immediately to her presence, reaching for her with his arm and gathering her into his warm, dreamlike embrace. Nikita allowed him to pull her close, taking small comfort in the heat his body was emanating. As she quivered in pain she willed herself to fall asleep, well aware of the fact that as long as she stayed awake the agony would continue.

Her last conscious thought was the realization that this time it was probably not just guilt that was causing the pressure, it was anxiety. She was deathly afraid of what she would see in Michael’s eyes when she saw him next.

*****

Alan dropped Nikita off at home early the next morning on his way to work. He was fairly silent during the ride over to her place, still somewhat bemused by the fact that he had fallen in love with her so quickly. So completely. He’d never had a relationship move so fast. But then, he’d never met a woman like Nikita. He wanted to spend every waking moment of every day with her nearby. Such a desire was probably childish, he realized, but he couldn’t help himself. In a matter of days she had become everything to him. When she had rolled away from him earlier that morning to get up and get dressed he had felt physical pain at their separation.

It was a separation that would have to endure for a few days, unfortunately. Business was interfering with his personal life and it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to spend any time with her until the President’s annual gala on Friday. He had wall-to-wall meetings scheduled during the next few days and a variety of working dinners over the next few nights. He’d said as much to Nikita that morning and she had pouted appropriately, but he’d wondered for a moment if she wasn’t secretly relieved. She’d said all the correct words, but her eyes hadn’t backed them up…

Her eyes always gave her away, he realized… They were her finest feature. A light, bright blue that seemed to mirror her soul…

That morning her soul had seemed conflicted, slightly confused and in pain. Alan suspected that she was probably still thinking of her past relationship with Michael. After all, it had only been a week since her rather volatile break up. Like him, she could also be overwhelmed by the speed at which the relationship was progressing. He reminded himself to be patient… He loved her, and he would heal her. The time would soon come when she would look up at him with her beautiful eyes and silently convey the love that she had verbally expressed last night. She would look at him like she had looked at Michael at Volaré’s, and he would never have to doubt the depth of her feelings again.

Finally reaching Nikita’s apartment complex, he eased his car into an open parking space and put it in neutral. He turned to regard the woman sitting beside him and found her staring at him with bright eyes and a small smile. It wasn’t the look of love that he had been hoping for, but it was certainly an improvement over what he had seen earlier that morning. The pain behind her eyes seemed to have abated, as did the hint of confusion. He wondered what she’d been thinking while they had been driving over.

Not wanting to say good-bye just yet, he leaned over, gave her a lingering kiss and then retreated back to his seat. “See you Friday?” he asked softly.

Nikita smiled like she meant it and breathed, “Of course.”

Alan felt his pulse quicken at the sound of her voice, but did his best to squelch his burgeoning arousal. The last thing he needed was to appear flustered in a Cabinet meeting. “The party starts at eight o’clock so I’ll pick you up around seven thirty. Does that work for you?”

Nikita stared longingly at his lips as she slowly licked her own. “I can’t wait.”

“Nikita,” he admonished, “You are a terrible tease.” If she continued to look at him like that he would never get to his meeting.

“Me?” she replied innocently.

“Yes, you.” Alan sighed dramatically, then opened his door and walked around the car to let Nikita out.

“Such the gentleman,” she murmured while exiting the car and stepping onto the sidewalk. Alan raised an eyebrow and Nikita blushed prettily. “Well… Not ALL the time…”

Alan gave her a tender peck on the cheek, murmured “love you,” and then walked back around his car. “Friday?” he called out as he opened his door and slid into his seat.

“Friday!” she replied, waving and meeting his gaze through the passenger side window.

The moment Alan’s car disappeared from sight Nikita dropped all pretense of pretending to be happy and in love. Her face took on an almost grayish cast as she squinted unhappily at the morning sun. The bright light did nothing to soothe her unrelenting headache… If anything, it made it worse… So she took a fortifying breath and headed purposefully toward her apartment where she could close the blinds and relax in total darkness. She needed darkness. She craved the solace that it would provide.

She caught a few strange looks from passing pedestrians as she crossed her courtyard and was momentarily confused until she realized that they were probably staring at her attire. The dress… She still had on the dress… Even though her coat was floor length it did not conceal everything. She felt awkward and ashamed parading around in broad daylight in an evening gown. She knew that she was a grown woman and it shouldn’t matter where she went or what she did, but somehow it just seemed gauche to be slinking home at seven o’clock in the morning on a weekday dressed in silk and cashmere. Perhaps she felt embarrassed because of what she’d been doing?

She’d certainly sneaked home from Michael’s dressed in far more revealing attire and hadn’t blinked an eye, let alone felt even an ounce of shame… Once she’d even run into an elderly woman on the downstairs landing while wearing spiked heels, a torn-up red lycra mini-dress and one of Michael’s black coat jackets. If memory served her hair hadn’t even been brushed, either. She’d earned such a look of horrified disdain from her neighbor that she’d burst into peals of laughter as soon as she had reached the safety of her own apartment.

Somehow, she didn’t feel like laughing this morning. Nothing about the current state of affairs was even remotely amusing. She needed to decompress from the mission, and she needed to do so immediately. Her head was still sore, her body did not feel like her own and she was so unbearably tired. She’d only managed about two hours of sleep the previous night which was not nearly enough time for her system to recover from the stress that it had been under. It seemed as though every step she took drained an unproportionately large amount of energy from her body. By the time she reached the top of her landing she was staggering like a drunk.

As she unsteadily neared her door she couldn’t help but wonder if Michael would be waiting inside. She’d asked him to wait and he had said that he would, but that had been before the mission had actually been executed. She knew that she had been changed by the experience. Had he? Would he still want her, or would he see her as used goods?

Would he stay or would he run away?

*****

Michael sat on Nikita’s couch, waiting.

He’d been there most of the night, arriving after he’d driven aimlessly around the city for the better part of two hours in a painful but successful attempt to come to terms with the events of the evening.

He had known that someday Nikita would have to sleep with a mark. He had known… Even as he had used all of his available resources to keep her from having to compromise herself in a valentine capacity, he had known that he was only delaying the inevitable. Someday the time would come…

Tonight it had, and what disturbed him most was his own reaction to it. He had never had such a visceral, gut-level response to one of Nikita’s missions. He’d been angry, hurt… jealous, even… but after he’d fled the scene and enough time had passed for him to be able to look at the situation objectively he realized that more than anything else he felt scared. Sick with fear.

It frightened him that Nikita had been able to execute the mission. A year ago she would have crumbled. She would have either refused the assignment point blank or she would have accepted it and broken down mid way through. But now… A year later… Not only had she suggested it, she had performed flawlessly. And while he might be pleased on a purely clinical level by her prowess, his heart was disturbed at what her success represented.

Nikita was changing before his eyes… She was withdrawing, developing a tough outer shell to shield herself from the depravities of Section. How many times over the past week had he spoken with her only to realize he was actually speaking with Josephine? She was trying to fit in to Section by becoming like him, by splitting herself in two, and the process was slowly going to destroy her. Nikita wasn’t like him… She wasn’t like anyone in Section… To think that normal operative assimilation procedures would work for her was wrong. Dead wrong. She had a soul… A beautiful, giving, loving soul that wasn’t capable of separating itself from either one of her alter egos… Josephine had the same soul that Nikita did, and the more Nikita tried to deny that fact the more damage would be done. She would break under the pressure.

Michael’s head turned as he heard a key scraping against the lock in the front door. A moment later the door opened revealing a very haggard looking Nikita in a long, black dress coat. Her broken appearance confirmed all of his fears, shocking him into silence so that he did not even greet her when she entered the room. He remained mute as she trudged across the floor on her way to her bedroom.

About half way to the stairs she suddenly became aware of his presence and stopped dead in her tracks.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes drank in his appearance… Caressing his face, his body… Looking for all the world like a weary traveler who had just discovered an oasis in the desert.

She went to take a step toward him but hesitated, her mouth again failing to form words. She wanted to run to Michael, but she was afraid. She didn’t want to appear weak… She didn’t want to burden him with her pain… She knew that she had to accept full responsibility for the mission. She should be comforting Michael, apologizing for causing him pain, not the other way around… But oh, she wanted to be comforted by him. To inhale his scent, to wrap herself around his solid form and forget about everything except the way he made her feel.

Michael met her gaze, understood both her apprehension and her desire, and then slowly stood up.

Not a word was spoken as he crossed the room and came to stand before her. Within seconds she collapsed against his chest, her cheek against his shoulder, her arms fastened tightly around his torso like grappling hooks. He could feel her body shaking, not from tears but from pure exhaustion. He knew the feeling… He remembered what his first valentine mission had been like…

“Shhhh,” he soothed gently while one hand cupped the back of her head and the other softly rubbed her back.

Nikita was beyond speech. She could only concentrate on the sound of Michael’s voice and the feel of his hands tenderly caressing her. Here, now, was everything that she had ever needed. All of the comfort, all of the love, all of the forgiveness. But most importantly, all of the understanding…

The moment she had looked into his eyes she had known that their relationship was as strong as ever. There was no censure in his gaze, no recriminations for things she had done or said while with Alan. There was only a sad look of compassion, of comprehension, as if he understood that she had finally learned what a true valentine operation entailed and that the knowledge pained him. She knew if he’d had his way she would never have had the chance to learn that lesson.

Michael kept Nikita in his embrace for some time, waiting until her body tremors subsided and her grip slackened. When the time was right he stepped back, tilted her chip up and informed her, “You need to rest.”

Numb, Nikita just nodded and followed him up the stairs to her bed. She remained still while he undressed her completely, roughly tossed her dress in a far corner and then pulled a nightgown off her bathroom door and slid it over her head. Of her own accord Nikita then turned and climbed into her bed, pulling the comforter up to her chin while her fists unconsciously kneaded the thick material.

Michael stared down at Nikita for a moment while he mentally rearranged his workload to free up several hours, then he shed his coat and shoes and climbed into bed with her. She sighed as he pulled her back against his chest, wrapped his right arm around hers and placed a series of feathered kisses against her cheek. By the time his wandering lips moved up to her forehead she was completely, contentedly asleep. He continued his ministrations for several minutes, however, knowing that while Nikita might be sleeping she would still sense his love.

Each tender kiss was a promise, a vow of protection.

As his lips grazed her soft skin he swore that he would keep her safe. Michael had never seen Nikita as damaged as she had been that morning… It had shocked him, hurt him to see her physically and psychologically drained to the point of complete exhaustion. He could tell that the mission was destroying her from the inside out, her physical frame collapsing because her inner soul was too damaged to sustain it.

This first time the damage was not permanent, he knew. She would sleep and her spirit would regenerate itself. Within a day or two she would be back to her normal self. But over time, if the scenario continued, she would grow too tired to be able to heal herself. Her soul would become as callused as his and the woman he loved would cease to be.

Michael couldn’t fathom life with a Nikita who had mutated into a creature like him. And yet, as he stared down at her, for the first time he began to see how such an obscene possibility could become reality. She was so tired, so spent… She had already taken one step in the wrong direction, and in her current state inertia could easily take care of the rest. Before she even realized what had happened she would wake up one morning, look in the mirror and find her eyes as stark as his…

“No,” he whispered, wrapping her more tightly into his embrace. “No.”

He couldn’t let it happen… Wouldn’t let it happen…

*****

Nikita meandered through Section early Friday afternoon on her way to see Madeline. She was tired, but not nearly as exhausted as she had been the morning after her date with Alan. Michael had managed to give her the past two days off under the guise of her needing to stay at home in case Alan stopped by. Grateful for the reprieve, she’d used the time to relax and catch up on her sleep. The solitude had been so refreshing that by the time Madeline had called and asked her to come in she was feeling almost human.

No sooner had Nikita entered Section, however, than the healing process which she had begun abruptly stopped. Sights and smells that had never caught her attention before suddenly seemed full of meaning. The smell of antiseptic blended with gunpowder, cultured hardwood furniture placed on harsh concrete floors, lighting that concealed more than it revealed… Everything a contradiction, a glaring visual reminder of the war that raged between her soul and her Section persona.

As an avoidance tactic she found herself ignoring her surroundings and focusing instead on her upcoming meeting. Madeline said she wanted to discuss the mission plan for the party that evening but somehow Nikita knew that her recent activities with Alan would be the real topic of discussion. She couldn’t imagine Madeline passing up the opportunity to analyze her reactions and file them away for future reference.

“You wanted to see me?” Nikita asked placidly a short while later as she entered Madeline’s office and stepped inside.

Madeline looked up from her desk as Nikita entered, gave the young blonde a quick once over, then replied, “Yes. Please, sit down.” While Nikita obeyed Madeline reached for a white teapot and began to pour herself a small cup. “Tea?”

Might as well, Nikita thought. It would give her something to do with her hands. “Yes, please.”

“Two sugars?”

“Yes.” Nikita was not even remotely surprised that Madeline remembered how she liked her tea. In her experience there was no detail too small to escape Madeline’s attention. Who knew when the information might later come in handy?

When Madeline finished pouring and dropped two granulated cubes into Nikita’s cup she handed the delicate piece of china over. The two women silently regarded each other while sipping their drinks. Madeline’s eyes bored into Nikita, taking in every aspect of her appearance as she catalogued the changes that Nikita’s seduction of Alan Harwell had wrought. They were subtle, but they were there. A more defensive posture. A more somber wardrobe. A defiant stare that couldn’t quite mask the feelings of guilt and shame that lingered underneath…

Madeline had expected much worse and would have found it had Michael not intervened and provided Nikita with two days to collect herself and reorient. She was well aware of the “vacation” that Michael had given Nikita and fully intended to see that such behavior did not continue in the future. She may have allowed it in the past, but no more. It was now counterproductive to her own personal goals regarding Nikita’s development as an operative.

Satisfied with the direction of the changes she saw before her, Madeline set her cup down and fixed Nikita with a probing stare. “We haven’t discussed your relationship with Alan Harwell.”

Nikita continued to sip her tea, then nonchalantly replied, “No, we haven’t.” It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to feign indifference to Madeline’s line of inquiry.

“Michael tells me that you executed the scenario successfully.”

“Yes.” Nikita reached over and added another lump of sugar to her tea, then picked up a spoon and delicately began to stir it. She idly wondered if Madeline’s interest was prurient or parental, then decided it was probably a combination of both.

“Alan has said that he loves you?”

Nikita stopped stirring and met Madeline’s curious stare. “Yes.” Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quite disguise the guilty conscience that lurked behind her eyes.

“How did that make you feel?” Madeline asked softly.

Nikita’s reply was to adopt a stare so vacant that not even Michael could have surpassed it.

Madeline demurely sipped her tea and waited, all the while observing every nuance of Nikita’s behavior. The tension with which she held her tea cup. The revealing pounding of the pulse point in her neck. The blank stare whose very existence suggested a whirlwind of emotions that required concealment. She knew that Nikita would not be able to hold her emotions in check for long…

Sure enough, after a few minutes an indelicate snort escaped Nikita and all pretence of apathy was lost. “Since when have you people ever cared what I was feeling?” she hotly retorted as her simmering emotions erupted into a full boil. “As long as the mission objectives are achieved I don’t see…”

“Nikita,” Madeline interrupted in a surprisingly conversational tone. “Haven’t you ever wondered how you managed to make it this far without having to fully seduce a mark? You are far better looking than any of our female valentine operatives.”

Unable to disguise her shock at the direction the conversation was taking, Nikita closed her mouth and stared at her superior with a look of complete surprise. She had always known that Michael had protected her… Was Madeline intimating that she was aware of that fact?

As if reading Nikita’s mind, Madeline elaborated. “Not even Michael has the power to keep you from a valentine mission if I deem you appropriate for it.”

Nikita was confused. “Then why…”

“…Haven’t I sent you out on one?” Madeline paused to take another sip of tea, then continued. “You don’t meet the profile of a valentine operative. You never have. In the past I’ve allowed Michael to shield you from such situations because I felt it was in your best interests for him to do so.”

Unsettled, Nikita leaned back in her chair and regarded Madeline with a quizzical expression as she tried to wrap her head around what her superior was telling her. “Wait a minute… You say that you have allowed Michael to intervene on my behalf. Assuming that is true, then why did you approve this mission plan?”

“I approved it because Michael approved it. He knows you best… If he felt that you were capable of executing the scenario I was willing to believe him.”

Madeline refreshed her tea and took a brief sip, surreptitiously noting that her comment was having the desired effect. Her quarry was growing paler by the second. “People evolve, Nikita,” she continued. “Just because you were not able to perform valentine scenarios as a recruit doesn’t mean you haven’t developed the necessary coping mechanisms to perform them successfully now… We’ve been waiting for this to happen.”

The thought gave Nikita chills, especially since it was obvious that even with Michael’s assistance she wasn’t coping well at all. Her collapse the other morning was proof of that. “What’s your point?”

Madeline paused and raised an eyebrow. “My point is that we will no longer tolerate any intervention from Michael on your behalf. You have demonstrated that it is no longer necessary…”

Inwardly screaming, Nikita bit her tongue and waited for Madeline to finish. What had she done?

“…While we appreciate that the transition into this type of work is very difficult, we trust that you will overcome your emotions and execute the mission plan as designed… Over the next few months you will be expected to fully integrate yourself into Alan Harwell’s life… As a direct result, you will have to put your personal relationship with Michael on hold.”

Nikita opened her mouth to disagree but Madeline silenced her with a hard stare. “I am sympathetic to how demanding this will be. However, you will adjust… You will do the job.”

Nikita roughly set her cup down on Madeline’s desk. “I am already doing the job,” she replied defensively. “It’s not necessary to sever…”

“Nikita… You haven’t even begun…”

The conversation went downhill from there. Not only was Nikita expected to virtually move in with Alan, she was designated as the new team leader on the Karmis mission. Michael was being removed from her life both personally and professionally. According to Madeline, it was believed that Nikita would execute the mission better without any “distractions.”

“Distractions?” Nikita echoed incredulously.

Madeline smiled enigmatically. “You’d better go get ready. The party starts in a few hours.”

*****

Nikita was still muttering the word “distraction?” to herself minutes later as she arrived at Michael’s office and found the door closed and the interior completely dark. She opened the door and entered the room to find her suspicions confirmed… Michael was gone… Probably sent away before Madeline had even informed her of the change in management.

“Perfect,” she stated sarcastically as she stood with her hands on her hips and glared at the empty space before her. “Just perfect.” Section was playing games and she was missing the rule book. Again.

A scuffling noise caught her attention and she pivoted to find Birkoff standing in the doorway.

“Nikita!” His face lit up upon seeing her. “Long time no see… Walter said Michael managed to swing you a few days of down time.” His voice sounded wistful at the mere thought of a few days off.

Nikita would have liked to inform him of exactly what she’d had to do to earn a few days off, but decided against it. She was having a hard enough time explaining the situation to herself, let alone Birkoff. Dropping her voice to a low whisper, she stepped forward and asked, “Have you seen Michael?”

Birkoff’s eyes flitted around the empty office, searching for surveillance. “Today?” he whispered back. “No.”

That was strange, Nikita thought. Michael had called her that morning to see how she was holding up and he’d given her the distinct impression that he was at Section. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night.”

Nikita raised her eyebrows in a clear request for more information. Birkoff shrugged and continued to speak softly. “He had a meeting with Madeline… He was still here around midnight when I finished encrypting the file for the Gatz mission.”

“What was he doing?”

Birkoff hid his hands in his pockets and replied defensively, “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

Nikita rolled her eyes. “Birkoff…”

“Fine. He was in his office with the blinds closed. He ventured out once to ask me to run a file, then he disappeared. Okay? Can I go now?”

Nikita perched a hand on one hip and gave Birkoff a slow once-over, the kind of physical inventory that was designed to make even the most stoic of men squirm. Birkoff proved to be no exception. He shifted his weight like a four-year-old that had to go to the bathroom. “The file had to do with a terrorist faction operating in rural Greece. They’re totally obscure, some splinter group, I don’t even know where he got the name… All I know is I verified a data point, he gave me a look that meant I was supposed to keep my mouth shut, and then he left.” Birkoff didn’t add that if it had been anyone other than Nikita asking these questions, he’d have continued to keep his mouth shut. It was understood.

Nikita digested the information, then asked, “Was the request mission related?”

“Of course,” Birkoff replied without thinking. “Why else would he need it?”

“Which mission?”

Birkoff’s smooth face scrunched in concentration as he mentally reviewed the active mission logs. “Actually, now that I think about it… There aren’t any missions on pad for a few days… Gatz doesn’t activate until day after tomorrow…The incident in Bahrain ended up taking care of itself…”

“…So as far as you know, Michael doesn’t have any active missions?”

“Nope, not since he got taken off of yours.” Birkoff would have asked what was up with that, but he knew better. Especially considering how annoyed Nikita was at the moment. She radiated pure irritation…

“You already know about that?”

Birkoff looked her straight in the eye. “Yeah, Madeline stopped by last night after she met with Michael and asked me to run com for your mission since you were going to be in play.”

Nikita nodded, not surprised that Madeline had manipulated the situation so well. She wondered what other aspects of the mission were also being scripted without her consent.

“I’ve got your surveillance kit for this evening,” Birkoff continued in a normal voice. “Do you want to come get it?”

“Fine,” Nikita replied. It was obvious she wasn’t accomplishing anything standing around in Michael’s empty office. As she accompanied Birkoff on the way to his station she couldn’t help but feel that there was more to Michael’s absence than a mere mission. Unfortunately, intuition wasn’t information. Until she knew otherwise she would have to continue with the profile as planned.

*****

Nikita was a study in subdued elegance as she stood by Alan’s side at the presidential gala. Dressed in a low-cut sheath of black velvet and an elaborate chignon, she was the perfect showcase for an heirloom quality diamond necklace that Section had recently acquired from an unfortunate Middle East sultan. Her ensemble was completed by a pair of matched teardrop earrings which Walter had fitted with the best surveillance technology Section had to offer.

The party was staged in the atrium of a stunning marvel of modern architectural confusion that looked like a cross between Pompidou Centre and the Guggenheim. Ordinarily Nikita appreciated modern art but tonight she could find no redeeming qualities in her surroundings. The building was hideous… An undulating, swirling blast of color and form that gave new meaning to the term projectile vomit. It had just won a design award, but Nikita was of the opinion that the only reason was because no one wanted to admit that they couldn’t understand it… She would have said as much to Alan if one of his friends hadn’t been on the award committee.

They had arrived an hour ago and had immediately been swept up in a crowd of wheeling and dealing politicians. The President had been unable to attend the event at the last minute and his absence had created an interesting dynamic among his minions. Those with power held court. Those without power jockeyed for position.

Alan had power, that much was obvious. While other attendees scurried around the room bouncing from conversation to conversation, hoping to make a favorable impression, he stood off to the side in a fixed location and let people come to him. And come to him they did… In droves… Some were well-wishers who Alan liked and was very happy to see. Others were mewling little sycophants who would flutter by, drop a few names, and wait to see if their connections were of value. Alan managed to politely, but firmly, brush each and every pest away. Nikita found the whole process rather amusing. At the same time she couldn’t help but notice how much Alan thrived on it. He fed off the energy of the room and was clearly in his element.

A man named Keith, one of Alan’s business associates, stopped by to rehash a series of meetings that the two men had attended earlier that day. Nikita smiled when Alan introduced her, then graciously turned away and scanned the room while the two men talked shop.

No sign of either one of the Karmis brothers yet, she noted… The intel was still solid that they would approach Alan tonight, on neutral territory, and make the threat. At that point her assignment would begin in earnest.

“Perimeter still clear,” Birkoff voiced into the com-link in her ear. “No sign of Karmis.”

Taking Birkoff’s information as an opportunity to relax her guard for a few seconds, she stopped surveying her surroundings and instead focused on her date. Alan and Keith had finished their business discussion and were now debating the merits of the architectural monstrosity in which they were standing. She looked at Alan intently as he earnestly spoke with Keith… She heard the intelligence and the authority in his voice… She absorbed his sincerity, his innate goodness… And she asked herself for the thousandth time if he was worth the price she had paid.

Knowing what she knew now, she was utterly conflicted as to how she would have behaved that night at Volaré’s when she had first noticed him. Would she have initiated the scenario if she had known it would turn into a long-term valentine operation? The mere fact that she had doubts was what disturbed her the most, because it meant that she now had to think about whether or not to intervene on behalf of an innocent. Madeline was right: she was evolving… Although, to her it seemed more like regression than progression…

“Don’t you agree?” Alan queried, placing his hand on the small of her back. At the same time Birkoff asked, “Did you place the bug on Harwell?”

Nikita smiled and killed two birds with one stone. “Oh, yes.” It pained her that in answering Birkoff she’d had to confirm Keith’s comment that the building, especially the atrium, was a stroke of genius.

“I’m so glad you think so!” Keith responded passionately. “What do you like best about it?”

“Gee,” Nikita replied with a saccharine smile as Birkoff chortled in her ear. “There are so many intriguing elements to the design… I don’t think I could select just one.” At Keith’s prompting look, she was forced to continue. “Really… For me, it’s the combination of all the elements that has such tremendous… impact.”

“Yes… Yes, I see your point…”

As Keith waxed poetic on the theme of unity Nikita turned to Alan and whispered, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m just going to use the powder room.” It was a complete lie, but it wasn’t as if she could lean over and tell him she wanted to recon the room.

Alan gave her a sympathetic smile which clearly indicated that he would have liked to escape himself. “Of course. I’ll wait here.”

“Be right back,” she promised, and then she melted into the crowd.

*****

“Status?” Operations asked Birkoff as he leaned over the young man’s console.

“Exterior surveillance still negative on the Karmises. Nikita just left Harwell to conduct a quick internal check to make sure that they didn’t slip through.”

Operations nodded, pleased that everything seemed to be going according to plan. “Let me know when they arrive.”

“Of course.”

Returning his attention to his computer, Birkoff entered a series of quick key commands and began to methodically check the video surveillance for any sign of their marks. Minutes later he was startled to realize that Operations had never left the communications area. He stood off to one side, deep in thought, staring intently in the direction of Michael’s office. “Was there something else, Sir?” Birkoff questioned as he typed.

Operations paused, then slowly turned his attention back to the young man seated before him. “Have you seen Michael this afternoon?” he queried. A slight tone of suspicion wove its way through the sentence.

“Michael?” Birkoff repeated, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over him. Hadn’t he just had this conversation with Nikita? “No…. I thought he got sent out on another mission.”

“What makes you say that?”

It occurred to Birkoff that he had just stepped in a pile of something soft and slippery… He couldn’t exactly tell Operations that he had helped Michael with what was obviously, in retrospect, an unapproved project… He’d just assumed that Michael needed it for a mission… And wasn’t he the one who had just told Nikita that there were no active missions on Michael’s plate? Something Operations knew for sure… Cursing himself for offering a reflex explanation when a simple “no” would have sufficed, he worked furiously to come up with a plausible scenario. “Nothing, really,” he backpedaled, “I just…”

He heaved a huge sigh of relief as a figure in black glided into his peripheral vision. Talk about timing!

“Birkoff, I need you to run something for me,” Michael asked softly as he came to stand beside Operations. If he sensed that he had been the topic of conversation he gave no indication. Neither his voice nor his face betrayed a shred of emotion.

“Uh, I’m kind of busy right now.”

Michael looked first at Birkoff’s apologetic face at then at the mission activity scrolling across his monitor. Nodding in understanding, he finally turned his attention to Operations. Off the older man’s quizzical expression he said, “Yes?”

“Where have you been?”

Birkoff hunkered down in front of his monitor in a failed attempt to render himself invisible. He cringed as he heard Michael blithely reply, “Out.”

Operations exhaled. Loudly.

Without even looking at the figures reflected in his monitor, Birkoff could see the tension arcing back and forth between the two men. Operations desperately wanting to know where Michael had been. Michael having absolutely no intention of telling him. The only things missing were a dusty street, a saloon and a pair of six shooters.

The standoff would have continued had Mentz not radioed in from the outside surveillance team. “Targets sighted… They just exited their limo and are making their way to entry point one…”

Operations clasped his hands together in expectation while Michael silently gravitated toward his office.

*****

Nikita was moving before Mentz even finished his sentence… She threaded her way through the crowd in record time and was back at Alan’s side before the Karmis brothers had even cleared the front door.

“Where’s Keith?” she inquired as she slipped an arm around Alan’s waist and gave him a friendly smile.

“Keith?” Alan fixed her with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic grin. “I mentioned that the building’s architect happened to be standing in line at the bar on the opposite side of the room. Then I suggested that perhaps that esteemed individual might enjoy hearing Keith’s interpretations of his work.”

Nikita couldn’t help but laugh at Alan’s droll recitation. “Was the architect really waiting in line?”

“No.”

Another quick burst of laughter died on Nikita’s lips as she caught sight of Nicholas and Stefan Karmis heading in their direction. Stefan she wrote off immediately as a non-entity. But Nicholas… The video clip that she had seen during the briefing hadn’t done him justice. He had a presence that was like none she had ever felt before… Seductive. Repulsive. Disturbing… Despite the expensive tuxedo that covered his corpulent form she could see his body for what it was: a soulless shell of flesh that housed a spirit that was twisted and defiled.

She zeroed in on his predatory demeanor and his suspicious, watchful eyes… Black eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it… Eyes that blinked once, then turned rapidly and met hers. Dead on.

She fought the urge to flinch, his gaze was so unsettling.

Nicholas smiled upon making her visual acquaintance… A slow, languorous smile that reeked of self-satisfaction and superiority. He walked to within just a few feet of where she was standing and then shifted his beady, reptilian eyes toward Alan. “Harwell… Fancy meeting you here.”

“Karmis.” Alan sounded like he’d just swallowed sour milk.

“You must introduce me to your lovely companion,” Nicholas continued, completely nonplussed by the rude treatment he was receiving. “She’s absolutely stunning.” He turned toward his brother for confirmation. “Don’t you think so, Stefan?”

Stefan merely gave Nikita a quick once over and said, “Yes.” If Nicholas had asked him to confirm that the sky was purple he probably would have said the exact same thing in the same bored tone. Nikita decided that a man so obviously incapable of independent thought was definitely acceptable collateral.

Alan reached down to squeeze Nikita’s hand and ignored Karmis’ request for an introduction.

“Really, Alan.” Nicholas nodded his head in disappointment. “It’s so not like you to ignore the social niceties. But that’s okay… I already know her name. It’s Nikita, is it not?” Karmis smiled and managed to look even more self-satisfied than when he had first arrived. “Such a beautiful name.”

Alan looked disturbed that Karmis knew Nikita’s name. His eyes narrowed as an element of comprehension began to ripple across his patrician features. “Nikita, I would appreciate it if you would leave us alone for a moment.” He didn’t even look at her as he uttered the request; his gaze was completely focused on Nicholas.

“Yes, I was thinking the exact same thing.” Karmis continued to smile at Alan, clearly reveling in the sensation of finally having him at his mercy, then he turned his attention toward his brother. “Stefan, why don’t you take this lovely lady for a spin on the dance floor. Alan and I have a few business issues to discuss.”

Nikita looked back and forth between the two men and felt utterly sick at what was about to happen. Utterly and completely sick… But she stayed in character. She smiled innocently and replied, “Of course.”

Alan gave her hand another hard squeeze, a gesture of comfort that only served to make her feel even more terrible about what was soon to take place. She looked at him, scanning his face as if to memorize the strong tilt of his features. The strength of his character. Somehow, when the evening was over, she knew that he would be different. Desperately sorry, she brushed a soft kiss against his cheek before letting Stefan lead her onto the dance floor.

*****

Operations pulled up a chair and sat next to Birkoff as Karmis’ voice practically leered through the console speaker.

“She really is a fine looking young woman. Tall, sensual... And those eyes!…”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’re here to discuss my love life, Karmis. Why don’t you get to the point and then leave. I find your presence offensive.”

“So you’ve said before…” There was the sound of an exaggerated sigh, then a malicious chuckle.

Birkoff was shocked to realized that Operations was laughing along with Karmis. He stared incredulously at his superior, who merely reached into his pocket for a cigar, lit it and inhaled deeply. “He’s good,” Operations murmured appreciatively after a moment. “You have to admit… He’s good.”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss your voting patterns as of late,” Karmis continued. “They displease me. They’re so… conservative. I think that should change.”

“Really?” Alan’s voice was the epitome of cultured disdain.

“Really.”

“We’ve had this conversation a number of times, Karmis. How many different ways would you like for me to tell you to take a sharp object and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?”

Operations smiled at Birkoff. “He’s better.”

“Who’s better?” Madeline inquired, smiling at Operations as she stepped up onto the communications platform.

“Harwell,” he responded, swiveling in his chair to face her. “The man actually has some backbone.”

Madeline nodded, not expecting to have heard any differently. She’d read Harwell’s profile. She knew that he was brimming over with honesty and integrity. The mission’s success hinged on those very qualities. “Yes, he does.”

*****

Nikita decided that Stefan Karmis danced like he spoke: slowly and without a great deal of finesse. It took every ounce of concentration she had to avoid his blundering steps, respond to his inane comments and still keep track of the conversation between Alan and Nicholas.

But keep track she did… And she felt a swell of pride when Alan told Karmis off. If she’d been listening in private she would have clapped her hands. As it was, she laughed outright and let Stefan believe, probably for the first time in his life, that he’d actually said something funny.

Karmis responded to the insult with an indulgent chuckle. “Alan, Alan, Alan…” he chanted mockingly. Then, as a premonitory chill sprayed goosebumps down Nikita’s arms, his voice dropped several registers and throbbed with malicious intent. “Now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries, let’s have a little chat. You’ve been a burr up my ass from the day you joined the Cabinet…”

“So glad to hear it,” Alan quipped.

Karmis continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “…But now, courtesy of that statuesque Barbie doll you seem so fond of, all that is going to change. She’s made you weak, Harwell… And I finally have you exactly where I want you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you are about to have a sudden epiphany on a number of issues, starting with next week’s Cabinet meeting… As of today, you now support Mendoza. Throw your support behind Weiss and the lovely Nikita won’t survive the week. Am I making myself clear?”

Nikita stumbled against Stefan as she heard Alan suck in his breath as if he’d been punched. Ignoring her dance partner, she peered around his shoulder until she could spy Alan in the distance. His soft brown eyes met hers across the room… They were filled with shock, then anger, then an emotion that she couldn’t quite put her finger on… She could feel him assessing her, measuring her, gauging her value…

She smiled at him from across the room… A soft, sweet, traitorous smile meant to convey her love. To sway his decision in her favor…

The look only lasted a moment before she was forced to avert her gaze… It was as if he could see inside her, as if he could sense from across the room that she was aware… too aware… of the reason for his obvious distress.

Turning her attention back to Stefan, Nikita shuddered in self-disgust as she listened intently for Alan’s response.

*****

Madeline and Operations stared at Birkoff’s speaker with complete shock as Alan Harwell’s voice coldly sliced across the communications area.

“Karmis… Get real… If you think for one moment that I would ever let you harm a hair on her head, you’re even stupider than you look… Do you think I got to be a cabinet member because I’m a nice guy? Think again…”

“Sir,” Birkoff asked Operations. “What’s going on? This wasn’t in the profile.”

Operations and Madeline locked eyes, then minds, lending credence to the idea that they had pioneered the silent form of communication that Michael and Nikita had perfected. Ignoring Birkoff’s question, they listened intently as the confrontation between Harwell and Karmis escalated.

“…You try to use her to get to me and I’ll go public with your involvement with Communion.”

“Communion?” Karmis replied innocently, his voice back up to its normal register.

“Yes, Communion… That splinter group you hired to coordinate the bombing in Athens last year. If you prefer, I can talk about several assassinations you sponsored… Edwards, Garnier… There’s plenty more, would you like for me to continue?”

There was a pause, then the unmistakable sound of a lighter clicking and a cigarette being lit.

“Words, Alan… Nothing but words.”

“Perhaps,” Alan laughed softly, contemptuously. “But words are deadly when accompanied by proof… Hard proof.” He was clearly enjoying pulling the rug out from underneath Karmis. “Oh yes, I assure you, we would not be having this conversation if I didn’t have concrete proof of your illegal activities…” Operations turned to Birkoff and scathingly asked, “How is it that a civilian was able to gather evidence that we could not?”

Before Birkoff could formulate a response Madeline interjected, “That’s irrelevant.”

Section’s two commanding officers shared an intense look, then simultaneously turned and started walking toward the control center. Without having to be asked Birkoff immediately forwarded the mission surveillance to their new location.

“…And don’t even think about having Mikos, your trusty assassin, try to eliminate me. I’ve already taken steps…”

“I’m shocked, Alan,” Karmis interrupted conversationally. “All this time, I just didn’t think you had it in you…Who knew that beneath that pretty boy exterior…”

“Patch me through to Nikita,” Madeline’s voice barked through Birkoff’s intercom. “Now.”

*****

Nikita dragged Stefan off to the bar where she could sit and listen to the confrontation with greater attention. Her companion carried on a lengthy one-sided conversation while she nodded appropriately and searched for a way to come to terms with the showdown that was exploding in her ear.

Part of her wanted to run up to Alan and give him a scorching kiss just for being who he was, but the other part of her recognized that something would have to be done, and done quickly. Her profile was in tatters and she was scrambling for a contingency. The whole mission hinged on the success of Karmis’ blackmail attempt… What was she supposed to do now?… There was no leverage… And without any leverage, there was no mission… There was no way to get to Karmis.

Unless…

She gnawed on her lower lip and began to restlessly tap her foot against the floor…

Alan was in possession of information that Section could use to blackmail Karmis. If she could get access to the proof that he had just thrown in Nicholas’ face she could achieve the mission objective within days rather than months… There would be no need for a long-term valentine scenario…

“Stefan,” she interrupted coyly, “Let’s go back to Alan and your brother.”

Her partner peered across the room, noticed that Alan and Nicholas were still deep in conversation, and suggested that it would be better if they stayed put.

Finding that notion unacceptable, Nikita reached forward and slowly ran her forefinger up and down Stefan’s jacket lapel. “Please?” she demurred. When he remained steadfast in his desire to stay seated she murmured, “Pretty please?,” and batted her eyelashes like a witless piece of arm candy.

He folded within seconds.

As they were crossing the room Madeline’s voice assumed command of Nikita’s communications channel, effectively obscuring Alan’s conversation with Nicholas. “Priorities have changed. Your job for tonight is to cement the relationship… Spend the night… We’re analyzing the information against Karmis that Harwell just alluded to. Once we determine its most likely location you’re going to need access to the estate to conduct a detailed search.”

“Already on it,” Nikita replied, pasting a smile on her face as she reached the location where Alan and Nicholas were standing.

Neither Alan nor Nicholas seemed happy to see her. The former greeted her with a grim smile while the latter gave her a look hot enough to blister paint. Karmis looked like he was dying to say something but knew better. Finally, after what seemed an interminable wait, he turned to Stefan and snapped, “Let’s go.”

Nikita watched the pair leave, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in days she felt like she was back in control… If she was able to locate the information that Alan used against Nicholas Section would achieve mission closure without sacrificing Alan’s integrity. What had seemed like a disaster at first was actually turning out to be a blessing in disguise. Buoyed by that thought, she turned to find Alan looking at her oddly, almost as if he was searching for something that was no longer there. She responded to his inquiring gaze with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but her look did not appease him. If anything, it only aggravated him more. Minutes after the Karmises departed he crisply suggested that they leave as well.

A short time later Nikita found herself seated on a large, oxblood leather couch in Alan’s library. Her host had been silent since they had returned from the party, speaking only to ask if she wanted a drink, then suggesting a bite to eat. When she refused both offers he sat down next to her, crossed his ankles and stared out the window on the far side of the room.

Familiar with Michael’s silences, Nikita allowed Alan his mood. She gave comfort in the form of a gentle caress against his arm or an occasional press of her hand against his. He allowed the contact, but did not react to it. After a while he stood up and walked toward one of the room’s windows. Nikita immediately asked him what was wrong.

At first he smiled, seeming to find the notion that something was wrong extremely amusing. Then he turned away from her and stared outside into the pitch black night.

“You know,” he began solemnly, “they say that the eyes are the window to the soul. I never really believed that until the day I first saw you…” He trailed off, then turned to face her. “You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Nikita was at a loss for words. What did you say to someone who had just uttered one of the greatest compliments of your life? So she said nothing, she merely smiled softly and communicated her thanks through an outpouring of emotion in her face.

Alan smiled back… A sad, aching smile that seemed to be full of self-mockery. “You do that often, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Speak with your eyes.” He sighed, then turned back to look out the window. “Like I said, they’re beautiful eyes… They betray every emotion you are feeling. Joy… Sadness… Guilt…”

Nikita peered intently at Alan, concerned by his demeanor. For a man who had just successfully told one of the world’s most powerful crime figures to take a hike, he was surprisingly deflated. He looked like he’d just lost his best friend. “What’s going on, Alan. Is something wrong? Can I help? You’ve seemed so unhappy since we got back from the party.” She was beyond trying to ‘cement’ the relationship, as Madeline had so callously dictated. She genuinely cared about Alan’s state of mind.

He ignored her question completely, opting instead to continue his train of thought. “In the few weeks that I have known you, I’ve never been able to understand why you should feel so guilty… When you look sad I attribute it to your break-up with Michael. When you look happy I hope that it’s because of something I have said or done. But when you look guilty, I’m at a complete loss to explain it…” He paused to take a deep breath, his manner resembling that of a high diver getting ready to plunge into a pool several stories below. “Tonight, when Karmis showed up and I asked you to leave for a few minutes, you leaned up and kissed my cheek… Your eyes were were full of remorse… They actually changed shades… At the time I didn’t think anything of it, but later, as I watched the Karmises leave, I suddenly understood.” He turned to face her and she recoiled from the naked pain that was etched across his features. “Are you working for him?”

“Wo… Working for him?” She stuttered. Had she just been compromised? “Working for who?”

“Karmis.”

“What!” Nikita shot straight out of her seat. “Me? Working for Karmis? Wherever did you…” She flopped back down on the couch. Amazed. Stunned. Shocked. “I don’t even know how to respond to that question, Alan. I just met the man this evening… Why would you think I was working for him? What on Earth would I be doing for that… that…?” Words failed her.

“Ah… But you didn’t just meet him… I was watching you when you first caught sight of him. You recognized him. I could see it in your face… And Karmis, he recognized you…”

“I know who he is, Alan,” Nikita parried. “The man is a notorious public figure… Just because I recognized him doesn’t mean I’m working for him!”

Alan sighed, sounding like a man twice his age. “It was in your eyes, Nikita… They never lie… They betray every emotion you have.” He ruefully shook his head in self-recrimination. “I should have seen it. I’ve worked so hard to take care of you, to help you. All I wanted was your love…”

“You have it.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I don’t have it… I never did… I saw how you looked at Michael when he first walked into Volaré’s. You’ve never looked at me that way, not even after we… I should have known then that it wasn’t for real, but I wanted it to be so I let myself believe.” He trailed off, and was silent.

The moment Nikita opened her mouth to reply he cut her off. “I assume that he paid you to get close to me, to make me fall in love with you so that when he threatened your life I would allow him to dictate my political actions.” He snorted with disgust. “How much did he offer you? What price did he put on my integrity?”

Her heart breaking at the thought that Alan could believe her capable of working for Karmis, Nikita met Alan’s saddened gaze head on and emphatically stated, “There was no plan, Alan.” Her eyes implored him to find the truth in what she was saying.

In response he let his gaze wash over her features, caressing her face for one last time as he memorized every line. The delicate arch of her brows. The strength of her chin. The crystal blue color of her eyes. The soft texture of her skin. Then, as if the pain of looking at her was too much, he turned away and addressed her over his shoulder. “I don’t believe you.”

Nikita sat on the couch, horrified, as she watched Alan exit the room after pronouncing his judgment.

Minutes later Alan’s butler walked into the study, fixed her with an imperial glance and advised her that a car was being brought around front to take her home. The man concluded his brief speech by informing her she would not be welcome at the Harwell estate ever again.

There was nothing else Nikita could do but leave.

In the car on the way back to her apartment it didn’t even occur to her to be upset about the fact that she wouldn’t have the opportunity to search the estate for the intel against Karmis. She was far too upset by the fact that Alan believed she had just betrayed him in the cruelest way possible. She’d known all along that she would have to break off her relationship with him, but she had hoped to do so cleanly… delicately… without him ever realizing that she had betrayed his trust.

It was her own fault… Alan had read the emotions in her eyes and he had interpreted them. He may not have interpreted them correctly, but he had been able to sense that there was more to her than met the eye… If she’d been more professional, more detached, he would never have known. But she hadn’t been able to separate herself. Once again, she hadn’t been able to do the job…

Lord only knew how Madeline would react to the news that her effectiveness on the mission had just been compromised beyond repair.

*****

Michael remained closeted in his office, seemingly oblivious to the chaos surrounding the disintegration of the Karmis mission. He sat perfectly still, his back ramrod straight, his fingers flying nimbly across his keyboard. At the sound of a small beep he stopped typing and clicked a flashing icon at the top right corner of his monitor. A window containing an anonymous, untraceable e:mail immediately expanded on screen.

He closed his eyes, digested the message and took a deep, calming breath.

“Hello.”

He blinked to find Madeline standing in his office doorway wearing an expression best described as deceptively vague. The look she fixed on him was neither happy nor sad, bored nor intrigued… It was just vague… Dangerously so.

Michael schooled his features into an equally impenetrable expression, then swiftly deleted the message on his screen. “Yes?”

“We’ve encountered some problems with the Karmis mission,” she began as she slowly walked toward his desk and came to stand directly in front of it. The click of her heels on the cement floor sounded ominous in the silence. “It seems Harwell has been hoarding intelligence to use against Karmis… When Karmis threatened Nikita, Harwell threatened Karmis.” She gave Michael a piercing look, then relaxed her features into a feral smile. “But then, I imagine you already knew that.”

Michael regarded her through opaque eyes.

Undaunted by his passive behavior, she continued. “Karmis and Harwell seem to have reached a truce that negates our current mission scenario… Fortunately we have enough information to reconstruct some of the blackmail material Harwell has gathered. Birkoff has managed, rather quickly I might add, to amass a great deal of data on a group called Communion. We plan to use this information to blackmail Karmis ourselves.” Her inquisitive eyes met Michael’s impassive ones. “But then, you already knew that as well…”

Madeline couldn’t help but smile as Michael failed yet again to rise to her bait. If he only knew how much he revealed when he purposefully revealed nothing. “Harwell is of the opinion that Nikita has been working for Karmis… He just read her the high society version of the riot act and sent her packing. Needless to say, she will be removed from the mission effective immediately. I’m going to put Mentz in charge.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Michael offered.

“Mmmmm,” Madeline replied, amused. “I’m sure you think it does.”

Michael searched her face, cataloging her features, then leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. Anyone walking by his window would think that he looked almost relaxed. “She’s not ready.”

Madeline acknowledged his remark with a nod of her own, then turned and walked toward his windows. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. After four years in Section Nikita still did not possess the ability to knowingly betray an innocent. She had become quite adept at shielding her emotions, but was incapable of doing so for an extended period of time. When the emotional charge of a valentine scenario was added to the mix, she became an open book. “Will she ever be ready?”

It was a rhetorical question that Michael did not bother to answer.

Madeline tilted her head to one side and allowed her lips to bend upwards in a ghostly smile. “I thought not.”

“Was there anything else?”

“For the moment, no.” Madeline turned and regally walked toward the door, pausing for a moment to look Michael in the eye. “I am restoring Nikita to your team. I think that she has learned her lesson for the time being, don’t you?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, Madeline sailed out of Michael’s office and down the hall.

He stared absently at the space she had just occupied, then returned his attention to his computer. A half smile flitted occasionally across his features every time he recalled the message that he had swiftly deleted:

It’s done.

*****

“You heard?” Nikita began without preamble as she entered Madeline’s office several hours later.

“Yes.” The tone was cool… Unreadable.

Nikita squared her shoulders and braced herself for the onslaught of what she was sure would be a long and painful outline of her shortcomings on the mission. Instead, Madeline fixed her with a piercing stare and stated, “Let me repeat my question from earlier this afternoon. How do you feel?”

Taken by surprise, Nikita’s eyes widened involuntarily before she had a chance to compose her features.

“You don’t have to answer me,” Madeline continued, smiling slightly at the look of incredulity on Nikita’s face. “Just think about the question.”

Nikita nodded, then steeled herself yet again for the lecture she was certain was forthcoming. Strangely enough, Madeline merely turned toward her monitor, started reading the file on screen and murmured, “That will be all, Nikita.”

Nikita bolted from Madeline’s office before her superior decided she was in the mood for a lecture after all.

*****

The halls of Section were deserted except for a skeleton staff of nighttime operatives as Nikita followed the path from Madeline’s office to Michael’s. As she walked she had plenty of time to consider her conversation with Madeline. Plenty of time to assess her state of mind… The problem was, self-analysis seemed way beyond her current mental capabilities. She was tired beyond belief and feeling like it was five o’clock in the morning rather than shortly after midnight. How did she feel? Like smashing her phone, bolting her door and sleeping until the next millennium.

Stifling a yawn, she shuffled into Michael’s office and leaned against his doorjamb. She found him leaning back in his chair, his hands in his lap, his face entranced by the symmetry of a cinder block on his opposite wall… His desk was clear, his computer was off… He’d been waiting for her.

“Hi,” she sighed.

He swiveled to face her, shifting the intensity of his gaze to her face. “Hi.”

The look in his eyes shocked Nikita awake… It was electric… kinetic. She took an involuntary step forward just so she could move closer to its heat.

He stood up and circled his desk until he was standing within inches of her willowy frame. His hand reached up and cupped her face, then swept her hair back over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Nikita closed her eyes and nodded mutely, sighing as he stepped forward and enveloped her in a loose embrace. His hands gently swept over her back, soothing her, caressing her… His presence warming not just her body, but her entire soul, sloughing off the negative emotions that had been weighing her down from the moment she had spied Alan Harwell across a crowded restaurant and appointed herself as his protector.

“Madeline keeps asking me how I feel.” She grimaced, wrinkling her face against Michael’s lapel. “I thought about it as I was walking over here and the only emotion I could come up with was relief.”

She looked down, reached for Michael’s hand and began to lightly trace her finger over his knuckles. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve put us through… I’m beyond guilt, I’m beyond regret, I’m beyond despair… The only emotion I can summon right now is relief. I don’t even care that Alan thinks I’m depraved enough to work for Nicholas Karmis… I’m just so glad it’s over.” She raised her eyes to Michael’s in a silent plea for understanding. “What does that make me?”

His eyes lovingly roved over her face… tracing her lips, her cheekbones, her eyes… Then he leaned forward, brushed a whisper soft kiss against her brow and murmured, “Human.”

Silence descended as Nikita stared at Michael through tear-filled eyes. Did he have any idea how much she valued him? Not just loved, but valued? Who else but Michael would have helped her with her profile, comforted her when it became difficult and then stepped in to rescue her when it became unbearable?

Yes, she knew that he was the one responsible for the timely demise of her mission… She might be a little fuzzy on the particulars, but there were far too many coincidences for her to come to any other conclusion… Would he admit it, she wondered? And if so, would he tell her how? Probably not… That would be like asking a magician to reveal his secrets. Sniffling and smiling in gratitude, she brushed a kiss against his lips and simply said, “Thank you.”

Michael looked at her intently, searching for an explanation of exactly what she was thanking him for, then he smiled in return. In a gesture that was archaic yet effortless, he took her hand in his, bowed, and placed a chaste kiss against its smooth skin. “You’re welcome.” Still holding on to her hand he asked, “Would you like to go home?”

Home… The word represented nirvana to Nikita’s battered soul. “I thought you would never ask…”

*****

Epilogue

Weeks went by and Nikita healed. With each day that passed the mission seemed more and more unreal, like a nightmare that evaporated in the daylight. She would think of Alan occasionally and feel the sting of his accusations, but she took comfort in the fact that he was still alive… More importantly, perhaps, he was morally intact.

As was she… Madeline hadn’t made any effort to use her in a valentine capacity, instead turning her back over to Michael’s safekeeping. Well, perhaps safekeeping was too strong a word for Section… It was more like she was in his care. But for once Section seemed to be leaving her alone, giving her time to come to terms with the enhanced self-awareness that had been a byproduct of her mission profile.

Nor had Madeline attempted to curtail Nikita’s relationship with Michael… When the mission ended so too did her directive against them being together. That, more than anything else, gave Nikita the strength to move forward.

Late one afternoon, several weeks after the mission ended, Nikita found herself with the night off. Hoping that Michael was in a similar situation she promptly headed for his office. She smiled as she neared his open door and was greeted by the tell-tale staccato tap of his fingers against his keyboard. Assuming her standard pose by his doorframe, she swung her purse like a pendulum and said, “Busy?”

His head popped up, startled that she had snuck up on him unannounced. “Not really.” He seemed enthralled by the slow, rhythmic motion of her purse as it swayed back and forth, back and forth…

“Care to join me for dinner?”

He blinked, then shifted his attention to her face. To the casual observer it would have appeared that he seemed bored by her suggestion, but to Nikita the subtle lift of any eyebrow spoke volumes. “Where did you have in mind?”

Nikita saucily offered up Volaré’s as a potential destination point.

In a rare show of outward humor Michael quirked an eyebrow and feigned exasperation. “How about my place?”

“Are you cooking or are we ordering in?”

“I’ll cook.”

Nikita beamed at the prospect of a home-cooked meal. “I’m game… Can I bring anything?”

“Yes.” His eyes raked over her form, then came to rest on her face. “Your earliest childhood memory.”

THE END

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