Madeline was putting the finishing touches on her bonsai trees when she heard the door open behind her. As Operations was the only person besides herself who had the code to her door, she didn't bother to turn around to greet him as he entered. Instead, she continued pruning as she waited for him to speak. When no words were forthcoming, she slowly lowered her scissors and turned to face him expectantly.

"Yes?" she murmured, meeting his gaze.

Ops gave her that special sardonic look that he reserved for those moments when they were completely alone. He was probably wishing he had a cigar, she thought, but she had forbidden smoking in her new office since the space was so small and smoke stains just didn't complement her new Minimalist decor.

"Did you see the bruise on Michael's face?" He demanded.

Madeline tilted her head to the side, and softly said "yes" as she turned back to her trees. She was grinning slightly, but didn't want Operations to see. For reasons she didn't quite understand, she was feeling guilty about the pleasure she had been deriving lately from their plan to separate Michael and Nikita. The two of them were just so… combustible…

"What is going on around here?" Operations questioned. Clearly, he was looking for her analysis of the situation.

"You knew when we started this that he would fight for her," Madeline replied, calmly chipping away at the trees.

"Figuratively, yes. Literally, NO!" He was starting to sound exasperated.

Madeline pursed her lips, and turned yet again to face him. "As I said before, a bond between two agents isn't always a bad thing… It's entirely possible that Michael won't give up even if Jurgen is successful in seducing Nikita. We need to be prepared for that possibility and plan accordingly."

Operations sighed. The situation was rapidly escalating out of control. With a curt request for Madeline to keep him updated he turned and walked out of the room.

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

Michael strode through the corridors of Section repeating Nikita's words to himself over and over again… "Not really…" She didn't want his company.

She didn't want his company.

Blood pounded in his veins, and he fought to control the rage which burned inside him. Madeline and Operations were playing hardball, and for the first time since Nikita returned he began to doubt his ability to regulate the situation. He had known from the outset that they would try to separate Nikita from him, but he had assumed that they would use disinformation to do it. Not another person. Not Jurgen.

Jurgen. The mere thought of his name caused Michael to reflexively form a fist with his right hand. He couldn't believe the line of manure that Jurgen had fed to Nikita that day when they went out for coffee.

Land mine?

New lease on life?

And who knew what he had told her when he revealed his "past." He probably positioned himself as an innocent whose untimely conviction had rudely interrupted him from saving the starving children of Southeast Asia…

The entire situation needed to be contained. And fast. Nikita's trust, her desire to see the good in people, was being used against her in the cruelest way. And the longer it went on, the worse it would be for her when Jurgen's deception was ultimately revealed.

A sudden thought stopped Michael dead in his tracks. Smirking, he pivoted on one foot and calmly made his way to Walter's workstation. Time to pick up some "supplies"…

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

Walter was busy rifling through his gun collection as Michael approached his workstation. A steady stream of faint expletives emanated from under his breath as he bent over and cross-checked each piece against the inventory list. Obviously, something was missing.

Michael breezed in behind Walter without a sound and went straight for the back cabinets. After he pocketed what he came for, he turned to give Walter a prepared excuse as to why he needed it. Apparently, luck was on his side, since Walter hadn't even noticed his presence. Figuring this boded well for his "mission," Michael quietly left the area. He was only a few feet away when Walter's voice barked after him.

"Hey, kid.."

So much for secrecy.

"Yes" Michael slowly turned to face Walter, his hands loosely clasped before him. His face was expressionless.

"You gonna sign that stuff out? I've got enough inventory problems around here without your assistance."

Michael approached the workstation and met Walter's considering gaze. He opened his mouth to speak and was cut off before he formed a single word.

"…What do you need that for, anyway? You're not scheduled for any missions."

Michael merely leaned over and initialed the log sheet, indicating that he would return the device the following day. Placing the pen down, he straightened, gave Walter a short nod and walked away.

Recognizing Michael in mission mode without a mission on pad, Walter regarded his retreating figure speculatively. Something was going on there, and he was dying to know what. Nikita probably could have figured it out for him, but she wasn't around.

Sighing, Walter turned back to his inventory. All things considered, he'd rather be building a bomb.

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

The halls of Section were close to deserted as Michael departed Walter's area and purposefully navigated his way to Medlab. By all outward appearances he seemed calm and collected, but the rage which he had felt earlier was slowly returning. His heart seemed to beat faster and faster with each step that brought him closer to Jurgen.

Finally arriving at his destination, he paused momentarily outside Jurgen's room to center himself. He willed the anger simmering inside him to recede, and focused on the one image that brought him solace. Nikita.

He closed his eyes and imagined her as he had seen her that night on the boat, bathed in moonlight, smiling at him with complete trust and acceptance. He remembered the feel of her flesh against his, the texture of her hair, the taste of her lips. The way her body had fitted to his as they slept, how her hand had reached for his and held it throughout the night.

Grounded, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he entered the room.

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

Jurgen was faintly surprised to see Michael in his room, but gave no outward appearance of his reaction. Like Michael, he knew the value of a cool exterior.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving my life," Jurgen offered as he watched Michael conduct a scan of the room. "Although, I must admit I'm a little perplexed as to why you bothered. Wasn't it just yesterday that you were trying eliminate me?"

Ignoring Jurgen's bait, Michael completed his scan of the area, noting a camera in the far corner and a microphone attached to the clock on the opposite wall. Positioning his body so that his right side was facing away from the camera, he removed the device that he had borrowed from Walter.

Holding the unit in the palm of his hand, he activated it with an audible "click" and held it up for Jurgen to scrutinize.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked calmly, almost pleasantly, as though he were presenting a gift.

A fleeting look of confusion washed over Jurgen's face before he had time to suppress the emotion. "Of course, it's a G2 scrambler. The latest model. Though why…"

"…Good, then you know that once it was activated, all surveillance equipment in this room was rendered ineffective."

Jurgen didn't bother to respond, just tilted his head and regarded Michael with a feral grin. This assignment was really turning out to be fun… First the brawl, now this… When was Michael going to learn? Even he was not immune from cancellation if he continued to place his needs and wants before Section's.

Michael returned the gaze, keeping his eyes on Jurgen as he slowly moved around the room to the opposite side of the bed. He returned the scrambler to his coat pocket.

In a flash, his entire demeanor changed. The rage which he had quieted earlier burst from him as he swiftly grabbed Jurgen's injured leg and dug into the bandage with his thumb and forefinger. The brown flecks in his hazel eyes ignited as he leaned toward his nemesis. His entire body radiated controlled fury, but his words were succinct and clipped.

"You and I have a few things to discuss…"

Jurgen's face remained impassive, even as Michael increased the pressure on his wound. It occurred to him as he looked into the depths of Michael's eyes that Madeline and Operations had underestimated his attachment to Nikita. Victory would be that much sweeter…

"By all means, Michael," Jurgen replied glibly. "Let's start with Nikita's escape from the explosion. I never did figure out exactly how…"

"…Cut the crap, Sibyl. You and I both know that Madeline and Operations know all about Nikita's escape. And her return. I'm sure they briefed you on it when they gave you your assignment."

"Assignment?" Jurgen appeared to be puzzled, but seethed inside at Michael's needling comments. If there was one thing he couldn't tolerate, it was disrespect. "Ah, you mean her reconditioning."

"If you'd like to call it that."

"Why, should I call it something else?"

"Try seduction. Since it's just us in here you might as well be honest."

Jurgen snorted, all traces of humor gone from his voice. "Honesty…now there's a novel concept… Tell me, Michael, how does it feel to be on the receiving end of things for a change?"

Michael flinched, even as his eyes bored deeper into Jurgen's. Neither man spoke, and silence descended as time stretched between them.

Michael was the first to break the silence. "Quid pro quo," he murmured as he pulled his hand free of Jurgen's leg.

"You know why I accepted this assignment, Michael?" Jurgen offered without remorse. "Because when I screw Nikita, I get to screw you. Now get out."

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

Michael had barely cleared Jurgen's room when Madeline swept in for a status report.

"Michael entered and we lost surveillance," she began. "What happened?"

"Don't worry Madeline. Everything's under control. Michael still had a few issues which apparently didn't get resolved in the white room the other day. I think he knows where things stand now."

Madeline contemplated Jurgen for a moment, taking in his smug expression and casual pose. Whatever the two men had discussed, she thought, Jurgen obviously felt as though he had emerged the winner.

"I want details, Jurgen," she crisply commanded. "Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out."

As Jurgen recounted his meeting with Michael, Madeline continued to study him, occasionally interrupting to clarify a point. Even taking into consideration the fact that Jurgen's own emotions were affecting the description, it still sounded as though Michael was close to the edge. More than anything else, it was that thought which disturbed her.

Jurgen hadn't worked with Michael in years, so he was pretty unaware of the degree to which Michael had closed himself off from normal human emotions. In any other person, the rage which Michael directed at Jurgen would seem normal, even healthy. Which explained Jurgen's lack of concern over Michael's outburst. But Madeline knew that for Michael, such behavior was totally out of character. What could he have been thinking?, she wondered. He had to know that his use of a scrambler wouldn't go unnoticed. Why was he being so reckless? What response was he trying to provoke from Jurgen?

Her musings came to an abrupt halt. "What did you say?"

"I said he knows that you and Operations know the truth about Nikita's escape and capture."

Madeline's blood ran cold.

"Did he say how?"

"No, just that he knew. And that he knew that I knew."

She looked intently at Jurgen for a moment. Of course. Michael was using his rage over Nikita as a mask to pump Jurgen for information. A part of her wanted to take a bow for having trained him so well.

"Did you confirm his suspicion?" she asked.

"Not in so many words."

Madeline took that for a yes. "Did he say anything else, did he mention Simone?"

"No…" Jurgen stretched out his reply. The mere mention of Simone's name still rankled. "Not directly." He wasn't about to inform Madeline of his parting shot to Michael. He doubted that she would approve, and that matter was best left between himself and Michael.

Madeline sighed briefly. They had known at some point that Michael would put two and two together, so she wasn't too disturbed about this latest development. However, it was imperative that Jurgen stick to the established mission parameters. Now that Michael had an inkling of what was going on, they had to be careful. She relayed her thoughts to Jurgen.

"These outward displays of possessiveness and rage on Michael's part are a large part of what is driving Nikita away from him, Jurgen. As a countermeasure, be supportive. Be accessible. Above all else, continue to give her the illusion of independence and free will. She values that above all else. Any questions?"

"No, thanks. I think she's falling in line." He gave Madeline a wry grin. "She came by this evening to ask me if I wanted to go to the lake with her tomorrow…"

Madeline looked pleased at that development. "Good," she replied and nodded her head. "I'll inform Operations."

Giving Jurgen a small smile, she exited the room.

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

As Madeline was busy interrogating Jurgen, Michael was making his way back to the main area of Section. He briefly glanced up at Operations' perch as he passed and noted with pleasure that the lights were off and the room seemed empty.

Michael gave a brief nod to Birkoff, who sat at his terminal gnawing on a Twizzler, and proceeded toward his office. Once inside, he shut his eyes briefly and expelled the breath he had been holding since Jurgen had evicted him from Medlab. Then he smiled.

His plan had worked.

There were moments in the room with Jurgen when Michael had feared that he might lose control for real, but in the end it had all been worthwhile. Jurgen hadn't been able to resist the opportunity to flaunt Nikita, and that was all that mattered. Michael now had the entire conversation on tape, courtesy of an audio recorder from his private collection that was even more state-of-the-art than the G2 scrambler.

Granted, in confronting Jurgen he did have to tip his cards somewhat by acknowledging that he knew Madeline and Operations were on to the truth about the Freedom League, but they would have figured that out eventually. Trading that knowledge was a small price to pay for the tiny cassette which rested in his left coat pocket.

He finally had the proof he needed to reveal Jurgen's true colors to Nikita. He only hoped when he arrived that she didn't shoot the messenger. Her aim was excellent, especially when provoked.

With that thought in mind, he grabbed his jacket and exited his office. He noted that Birkoff still remained at his station, only now there was a slightly smaller piece of Twizzler hanging from his mouth. And Madeline was standing beside him.

She called to Michael as he passed, asking to speak to him for a moment.

"Of course," he replied, and turned toward her, his face expressionless.

Madeline noticed that Michael seemed very composed for someone who not fifteen minutes earlier had been reading Jurgen the proverbial riot act. She was not surprised. His behavior merely confirmed her suspicions that he had been the one to successfully manipulate Jurgen, not the other way around. She wished she knew what had really been said in that room, because there was something critical that Jurgen was leaving out. She could feel it.

"I forget sometimes what a good student you are, Michael," she began softly. "You play the game quite well."

Michael didn't bother to respond to her statement at first. Instead, he continued to regard her quietly. Her brown eyes seemed to be smiling at him, almost as if she was proud of him.

After a minute, he tilted his head slightly, "I had a good teacher."

The smile in her eyes reached her lips at that point. "Touché," she replied and walked back over to confer with Birkoff.

Patting the tape one last time to make sure it was still there, he continued on toward the exit.

It was time to visit Nikita.

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

Michael slowed as he neared Nikita's door. He hadn't been back in this hallway since the day she was supposedly cancelled. Oh, he had driven by the building numerous times over the past seven months, even stopped a few times, but he had never made it out of his car and into her apartment. It was easier to believe that she was alive somehow if he wasn't confronted with the image of her space stripped of all her personal effects.

Looking around, he noted that nothing seemed to have changed. The walls were the same color, the floors had the same dark carpeting. He was the one who was different. He couldn't ever recall having stood before Nikita's door feeling nervous. Apologetic, angry, exasperated, even fearful. But never nervous.

So much was hinging on this conversation, and after the events of the past few weeks he was afraid that she wouldn't listen. That she wouldn't believe. Every time he had rejected her overtures, she had grown a little bit closer to Jurgen. Now, when he tried to make amends, she wasn't interested. The setdown she'd delivered to him earlier this evening was proof of that.

Leaning in to the door, he delivered his signature knock and waited. It was showtime, at least for a while.

*****

Nikita was furiously hammering at the last remnants of her drywall when she heard the knock. She knew that sound, and what it represented. Michael. Her pulse quickened.

During the six months that she was free, Michael's knock had become her internal alarm clock. She would often wake from a deep sleep thinking he was there, that he had found her, only to realize that she had imagined it all. Lonely, she would drift back to sleep imagining the feel of his arms around her as he had comforted her that last day in her apartment.

He had finally come. She had known that he would after she'd rebuffed his dinner invitation. Poor Michael, she hadn't really left him with much choice. He probably thought she was furious at him. Dropping the hammer on her floor, she strode toward the door and swung it open.

"Michael."

She looked almost happy to see him, Michael thought with some surprise. Although her eyes were definitely guarded.

"May I come in?" He asked softly

"Of course. I was wondering when you would stop by." Her smile seemed sarcastic, though.

As Michael moved past her into the room, he made brief eye contact and whispered harshly "Kick me out. Balcony, 15 minutes."

Her face registered shock for just a second, before comprehension dawned. Madeline and Operations had reactivated the surveillance on her apartment. No big surprise there. She hoped that they'd enjoyed watching the construction.

In a normal voice laced with a touch of anger, Michael continued into the room and turned to face her.

"I told you to stay away from Jurgen, Nikita. That's an order!"

"Who are you to order me to do anything, Michael?" She demanded as she followed him into the room.

Getting into the spirit of things, she moved to stand right in front of him so that their bodies were practically touching. Placing her hands on her hips, she leaned in even closer. "Last time I checked I was Jurgen's material."

"I told you, Nikita.."

"…You've told me nothing, Michael. Now why don't you just get the hell out of here. I'm sick and tired of listening to you badmouth Jurgen. He has nothing bad to say about you, you know. In fact, he's actually pretty complimentary…"

Turning away, she scowled at the wall for effect and told him once again to get lost.

"Fine!" He muttered as he exited her apartment, slamming the door behind him.

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

Nikita went back to violating her drywall after Michael departed. "Let them think I'm venting," she muttered under her breath. "I probably am!" Plaster flew as her mallet connected with the wall. She couldn't decide if it was Michael's face or Jurgen's that she was imagining when she swung the hammer. Maybe it was both of them.

It had really felt good to yell at Michael, she thought. Cathartic. She wondered if he understood that he was the only person that she could behave that way to. On some level he must. Why else would he have put up with it for three years?

She noted that her fifteen minutes were up. Time to get some "fresh air." Walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, she popped that top and took a long gulp as she opened the doors to her balcony and stepped outside.

She sensed his presence before she actually saw him. He was off to her right standing in a pool of darkness. As she turned to face him, he stepped forward and his face became illuminated in the moonlight. He took her breath away.

She shook her hair out of her face as she raised her eyes to meet his. Her voice was calm, without any trace of anger. "You wanted to see me?"

Michael took in her scruffy appearance. She was dressed in jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. Her unbound hair was coated with tiny flecks of plaster which sparkled in the moonlight. She looked almost fairylike, he thought. Except for the water bottle which she tapped rhythmically against her thigh.

"Yes."

He continued to gaze at her, caressing her features with his eyes, and Nikita was momentarily struck with the idea that he didn't know what to say. Or how to say it.

"Michael, I meant what I said in there, you know." She offered. "Jurgen doesn't badmouth you when he and I are together. He's actually very supportive. Can't you just accept the possibility that he has no ulterior motive?"

"No." Michael said the word so softly, it came out as a sigh.

"Why not?" She asked. She wasn't angry, she just wanted to understand. From the beginning she had felt that there was something Michael was holding back. Something more than what he had showed her from Jurgen's personnel file. She was tired of beating her head against the wall trying to figure out what it was. "What is it that you're not telling me, Michael?"

Her gut wrenched at the possibility that she was being manipulated again.

"Nikita…," he began, "you believe that people are inherently good. Even after everything you have seen since arriving in Section, you continue to cling to that idea."

"I told you before, Michael, I can't change who I am."

"I don't want you to, Nikita. To reject that portion of yourself would be to destroy your soul." He reached forward and brushed his hands against her hair, letting them trail down her face until they came to rest on her shoulders.

Nikita's eyes softened, and she gave Michael a small smile. She dropped the water bottle and raised her hands to cover his. "Then why are we having this conversation?"

"I just need you to recognize that sometimes there are people who don't deserve the benefit of your beliefs."

She stepped back from him, breaking contact, watching as he withdrew his hands and placed them in his pockets. The guarded look that he had seen earlier in her eyes returned. "People like Jurgen," she stated.

"Yes," he agreed, feeling a wall spring between them. "People like Jurgen."

Nikita opened her mouth to respond, but Michael cut her off. If he didn't say this now, he thought, he wasn't going to be able to.

"I have something that I need you to listen to," he began.

His voice sounded normal, Nikita thought, but his eyes pleaded for her to understand. There was an almost naked need in them that she hadn't seen since that night on the boat. This was obviously extremely important to him.

"When you are finished, I'll explain." He reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a tiny audio-cassette player. Flipping it open, he produced a tiny tape, loaded it, and handed the device to her.

Nikita stared down at the machine in her hands, then raised her eyes to stare at Michael. His face was inscrutable.

"Go ahead," he urged. And prayed silently that when this was all over their relationship, however tenuous, remained intact.

Nikita hit the button to play.

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

Nikita stared at the tiny machine as Jurgen's voice washed over her. He was goading Michael about having saved his life. The conversation must have taken place in Medlab earlier that evening.

She'd never heard Jurgen sound so sarcastic. What was going on?

She raised her eyes to Michael, searching for some explanation, but he had turned away from her to look out over the city. He was afraid to see her face while she listened to the tape. Nikita looked back down at the device just as Michael turned back to stare at her. As much as he dreaded it, he had to see her reaction. He had to know.

When she heard Michael mention the scrambler, she suddenly understood. Michael had set up Jurgen. He had led him to believe they were alone, and then he had recorded the entire conversation for her benefit.

Michael watched the emotions flicker over her face. She didn't look angry, yet. Just confused. Intrigued.

She flinched when she heard Michael's voice switch from calm to clipped. She hadn't heard him that angry since the day she botched her first mission and failed to kill the man in the hotel room. Was he really upset or was it all for show?

When she got to the part about Madeline and Operations knowing the truth, she sucked in her breath. Jurgen didn't deny that they knew, he didn't seem remotely surprised. Had he told them? How did they know? Better yet, if they did know, how come she and Michael were still alive? What assignment?

Her worst fears were realized when she heard Michael pronounce the word "seduction." He dropped it like a gauntlet, waiting for Jurgen to rise to the bait. Which of course he did.

But the next part confused her… What did Jurgen mean about being on the "receiving end." And why did Michael suddenly revert back to machine mode? He'd murmured something, but she couldn't make it out.

Michael continued to watch her face, empathizing with her. Even as she betrayed her emotional reaction to the conversation, he could tell that her mind was rapidly sorting the data. Assimilating. Drawing conclusions. Standing there, he couldn't help but notice how, for just a moment, she had looked exactly like Madeline. The thought was unnerving, to say the least.

She cried out when she heard Jurgen's final comment, the pain of betrayal clearly evident on her face. That bastard! Realizing that the conversation was finished, she pressed the stop button and stood staring at the device.

She was numb. Completely, numb.

Michael imagined that Eve had probably looked at the snake in the garden of Eden with a similar expression.

Still not talking, Nikita handed the recorder back to Michael and walked over to the edge of the balcony. A small breeze lifted her hair, and she raised her face to the wind. After a minute or two of silence, she turned back to face him, leaning back with her elbows resting on the balcony wall. Her hair continued to float about her like a halo.

She tilted her head to one side, and persisted in regarding him silently. Michael had no choice but to stare back. He felt compelled to, he couldn't look away.

"Why?" she sounded exactly like she had the day she had demanded to know why Michael had concealed Alec Chandler's slaving activities from her. He knew she wasn't going to like his response any better.

Michael opened his mouth slightly, preparing to speak. It was all he could do to get the words out.

"Jurgen was Simone's trainer. He wanted it to be something more, she didn't. When we got married, he took it personally."

Nikita didn't think Michael could have hurt her more if he had tried. All this time, it had never been about her. It had been about Simone. God, she couldn't even breathe. Tears pricked at her eyelids, but she willed them away. She would die before she'd let Michael see he had made her cry.

"So this is all about payback." She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded, considering.

"To Jurgen, yes." He replied, hoping she understood the distinction.

"And to you?" She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know. She wondered if Michael knew that his response would dictate the entire future of their relationship. Or lack thereof.

"I.." Michael opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. He didn't know what to say. He could only stare at her, pleading with his eyes.

Nikita felt as though a part of her was dying as she watched Michael struggle to speak. His lack of response was an answer in and of itself. Why, she wondered, had he bothered to bring her back if he was only going to reject her? Had their time on the boat meant nothing? He should have just let her die in that explosion, she thought sadly. It would have been cleaner.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt the tears which she had suppressed earlier begin to fall. She couldn't stop them, and made no move to wipe them away as they dropped off her face and on to her t-shirt. Her eyes no longer looked at Michael, but stared blindly forward into space. The earlier feeling of numbness returned.

Each tear was like a bullet piercing Michael's heart. He had hurt her, again. And the knowledge of it made him physically ill.

Stepping forward, he crossed the distance between them until he stood before her. Gently placing his hands on her shoulders he pulled her into a standing position and gathered her into his arms. Her body was stiff at first, but soon melted against him. Her arms snaked around his chest to pull him closer and he could feel her tears as they soaked into his shirt.

Sighing, he raised his right hand and began to gently stroke the top of her head, smoothing her hair. Touching her was like a release, Michael thought with surprise. The words which only minutes before wouldn't come, now flowed freely.

"Nikita…" he began, feeling her body tense at his voice. "… that time in the cages, when I told you that I didn't know what love was anymore… It was the truth… I don't know what love is, I don't even know what to say to you to make you understand how I feel… I only know that I need you in a way that I have never needed anyone… Not even Simone."

Nikita pulled away from his embrace, her eyes searching his for confirmation of what he had just said. She wanted so much to believe him, but at the same time she was afraid to. Michael saw these emotions reflected in her eyes, and reached forward to cup her chin in his hand. Looking down at her with a tender expression on his face, he continued.

"You fill a part of me that I didn't realize was even empty. When I look into your eyes, I feel peace. I feel hope. I feel alive…"

His words washed over Nikita, cleansing the doubt that she had felt earlier. The knowledge that he cared, really and truly cared, gave her a sense of contentment that she didn't think she had ever felt before in her entire life.

"I know that you often don't agree with my methods, and if I could have spared you the pain that I inflicted tonight I would, but I do it to protect you. To protect the light inside of you. You must understand. If I had let this go on, it would have only hurt you that much more when the truth ultimately came out.

"I won't deny that I take pleasure in battling with Jurgen, I don't like him. But I would never use you against him, and certainly not to seek revenge. I buried Simone years ago."

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against her cheeks, tasting the tears which remained. He softly kissed her forehead, then her eyebrows, moving down her face until he found her parted lips. Stepping back for a moment, he gazed down at her bewildered face.

"I need to know that you understand, Nikita. I need to know that you trust me."

"Michael, I.." Nikita began, only to discover that now she was speechless. She was so lost in the color of his eyes that she'd lost the ability to think, let alone enunciate. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and began slowly stroking the sides of his mouth with her thumbs. Moving her hands upward, she pulled her fingers through his tousled hair until her hands clasped together at the back of his head. Pulling his face down toward hers, she whispered "yes" seconds before her mouth met his.

That breathless "yes" was all the confirmation that Michael needed. All the pent up fear, the longing, and the frustration that he had felt that day poured into the kiss. Nikita met him eagerly, her mouth opening wide, her tongue mating with his. The kiss was hot, carnal and dirty.

Needing more, Michael backed her against the balcony, pressing the length of his body against hers. His hands moved under her shirt, caressing her. She reached into the back of his trousers, cupping him, pressing him against her.

Pulling away from her for a moment, Michael grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up onto the wall. Nikita wrapped her legs around him, her hands clutching his powerful biceps. He leaned down to nibble at her collarbone, then the valley between her breasts. Moving his hands to the small of her back, he dipped her back over the balcony railing and began to lick her exposed belly button.

When Nikita thought she was going to explode, he jerked her back up and sealed his mouth against hers. His hands were tangled in her hair, holding her head still as he deepened the kiss. She slowly slid down from the wall, unhooking her legs so that she was standing against him. She slipped her hands under his shirt and playfully scratched his chest.

Michael broke the kiss first, pulling back slightly to take in Nikita's flushed face and swollen lips. He struggled to catch his breath, and noted with amusement that Nikita did the same. Her eyes were luminous in the moonlight as they gazed at him. Neither one knew what to say.

Leaning back in, Michael bussed her lips and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"The next time I make love to you Nikita, it isn't going to be done standing up on your balcony." He murmured.

"Really?" Came the muffled reply. He couldn't decide if she sounded disappointed or sarcastic.

"Really. I know I asked you to be patient, and I have to ask you again. Madeline and Operations know now that we, or at least I, are on to their plan to split us up. We must be even more careful than before."

Nikita squirmed out of his embrace and regarded him with a flirty smile. Fingering the buttons on his shirt, she raised her eyes to meet his. "You mentioned 'the next time'… When exactly is that going to be? I'd like to mark my calendar."

"Nikita," he groaned. "This is serious."

She regarded him for a moment, and then fixed him with a direct stare. "I know this is serious Michael, and I do not for one moment underestimate the lengths that Madeline and Operations will go to to keep us apart. But I need you to understand something. I can't live without hope. I need some assurance that we are moving toward a goal, here. I can't play this game indefinitely, I just can't. I need you, too."

"Nikita, we just have to wait until Jurgen is out of the picture. Once he is gone, and we are performing at optimum levels on our missions, Madeline and Operations will stop analyzing our every move. Then we can work on being together. It should only be a month or so." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. To be patient.

"I understand Michael, and I promise to behave, but would you at least come visit once in a while? You did before and no one raised an eyebrow. As long as I don't jump you, I don't see what harm it could do."

Michael chuckled at her final remark. "I'd like that. Now why don't you go finish pulverizing your drywall. You don't want to spend too much time out here. The surveillance team might get suspicious."

She sighed in agreement, but not before turning to ask him a final question. "What about Jurgen, Michael?"

"Be pleasant, but not overtly so. If he wants to be chummy you should oblige him, just make sure that you do it in a public place. Revenge is a powerful motivator and I don't want you to get hurt if he snaps. Agreed?"

"Agreed," She replied with a nod and a small smile. "Goodnight, Michael. I'll see you tomorrow."

As she went to go inside he grabbed her forearm and pulled her in for a quick kiss. Pulling away, he smiled down at her. "Goodnight, Nikita. Sleep well."

"You have an evil sense of humor, you know." She snorted, then bent over to pick up the water bottle that she had discarded earlier. There was no way she was getting to sleep any time soon after what had just transpired with Michael. "Why am I not surprised?"

Michael smiled as he watched her reenter the apartment and close the door behind her. Raising his head to stare at the moon, he closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks.

His plan had worked.

THE END

Caroline.

Send suggestions and comments to ranma.
OR
If you would like to send a comment to Caro click HERE.