Nikita followed the other members of her team from the mission van to munitions. Her head was bent, her shoulders slightly slumped. Three operatives were dead. One of them had been a friend.

The intel had been faulty. Once she had realized it, she had informed Manning, the team leader. But rather then adjust the profile or order an abort, Manning had commanded they hold position. Nikita had clenched her teeth in frustration as she watched their situation go from bad to worse to debilitating. After another plea to Manning and his repeated order to hold profile, Nikita swore and broke position. Even as she moved she could picture in her mind Operation's censorious glare, Madeline's disapproving frown, and Michael's silent acquiescence. To hell with Operations and Madeline, Nikita thought. If she obeyed everything they told her to do she'd be dead by now.

"You'll pay for your insubordination," Manning fumed, when they were back in the van. Nikita had stared at him defiantly then moved to the back of the van and sat down. If it wasn't for her 'insubordination' he would have lost the whole team. Or was that the point? Had this been a suicide mission? Was she in abeyance? If so, she certainly hadn't been aware of it. However, Operations didn't need an excuse to cancel her if he wanted. Just an opportunity.

"Nikita."

She stopped and turned. Michael was standing off to the side, half in shadow, waiting for her. "What happened?" he asked, when she knew he was already aware of everything that had happened on the mission. So she cut to the chase.

"I disobeyed a direct order from Manning."

He was silent for a long time. At last Nikita looked up and found that he was staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. A look that made her heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry about Manning. I'll take care of him."

"Michael, don't put yourse--"

He hushed her with a single look. "Turn in your equipment. Then go home." If he had delivered those words with his usual blank stare Nikita would have been riled. Instead she nodded, resigned to the fact that this was Michael's way of loving. She didn't always like it but she accepted it. Nikita looked once more into his eyes. This time to find out the answer to a much more personal question. The softening of his expression told her what she needed to know and silently she turned and walked away.

It was late when the knock came at her door: tap-tap-tap. Unobtrusive and subtle, just like his love.

Nikita rose and padded silently across the darkened living room with graceful familiarity. An old faded sweater that hung loosely down to her thighs was all she wore. She bypassed the security panel, confident of whom she would find on the other side. Opening it, she peered up into his tired eyes, then stepped to the side.

He entered, bringing a draft of cold air from the hall outside. Nikita shivered, her toes curling against the wood floor, then quickly closed the door and locked it. In the dark, she turned stepped into his waiting arms.

Nikita sighed and burrowed her face into the warmth of his chest. She felt the strong steady beating of his heart beneath her lips. Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open and, pressing closer, she kissed his warm skin. Michael pulled her closer, burying his fingers into the softness of her sweater till he found the firm contours of her body and he glided his hands over their lovely curves. Lowering his head, he stroked his stubble-roughened cheek against the cool silkiness of her hair, and delighted in the scent of fresh peaches which his caress released.

"You're safe," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Nikita nodded, her face still buried in the warmth of his chest as her arms circled his waist and her hands clasped together at his lower back. "Thanks to you," she murmured, her voice muffled.

Michael grasped her face between his hands and tilted her head up. Though it was dark, Nikita could feel the heat of his gaze. "Manning was wrong. You were right."

"And if it was the other way around?" Nikita asked.

"I would have found a way to make you right."

"Michael --"

"Let's not argue," he said, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "It’s been a long day. I'm tired. I want you."

Nikita relented. Taking his hand in hers she led the way to the bedroom. She turned on the light and left Michael to undress while she went to the bathroom to retrieve the lighter she left on top of the mirror. On the table next to the bed was a new candle. Nikita raised it to her face and inhaled. She smiled at its floral scent, then placed it back on the table and lit it.

The bedroom light switched off and she turned to see Michael walking slowly toward her. He was beautiful in his bareness. Smooth skin flowing over sculpted muscles. Nikita's gaze roamed over him unabashedly, drinking in his magnificence with appreciative eyes. Michael stopped several inches away and he stood waiting. With a little smile, Nikita removed her sweater, dropped it to the floor, then stood to allow him his pleasure.

His callused hands touched her side and traced the silky curve of her hip, sliding round back to cup her bottom, then pressed her against him. Nikita's eyes closed, her head tilted, lips parted, and she trembled when she felt his mouth on hers. Her fingers twined in his hair as she pressed fully against him. His hands explored, committing to memory once again his lover's body. Somehow they made it on the bed and they started with Nikita on the bottom and Michael on top. In the trembling candlelight, they switched.

Michael gazed up at her, fascinated by the storm of emotions swimming through her eyes. He whispered her name and arched up to meet her, murmuring his love for her in his native tongue. Nikita was both, bewildered and entranced, by this side of Michael. That he could emote his wants and needs so openly. She rewarded him by granting his every wish.

A gasp, a sigh, a deep aching moan. They rolled and Nikita looped her arms about Michael's neck as their bodies tangled and merged. She struggled to breathe and he, caught in a wondrous spell of love and desire, raised himself up and gazed down into her passion-laden eyes.

"Together," he gasped, pressing himself deeper into her. Her lips parted and her eyes darkened to the color of the ocean.

"Together," she answered.

Their fingers clasped high above her head, their mouths joined, and they gloried in their lovemaking... together.