Heavy dense air hung in the absolute stillness. No sound broke the repose. One by one, black clouds merged into one impenetrable fog. With addictive tentacles it pulled at Nikita enticing her to stay. Grey darkness encircled her brilliant spirit. Dimmed by the billowy shadows, it shinned for others no more. Barely surviving the all-consuming void, her soul searched for its last vestige of power... of support. It was indiscernible. Slipping under the mystical spell, husky laughter rang in the murky distance. Her acquiescence was the cause. Addicted to the serene oblivion, Nikita stayed amid the mist forgetting the troubles the real world had to offer. She gave all she had to the hazy calm. Each layer soothed her distress. One swipe and painful memories were numbed. This place was absent of true emotion. Feelings evaporated and only logic remained in its stead. She finally found a place of peace.

The illusion slowly faded along with her dreams of tranquility. All too soon, the cotton mist dissipated from the recesses of her mind. Working her way step by step, Nikita fought to gain her footing into reality. With a final push, the last barrier was overcome. Eyelids tentatively opened, each millimeter of movement brought excruciating agony. Throbbing from disuse and drugged misuse, her temple pounded in quick tempo. The echo of war drums played with her optic nerves. Spasming uncontrollably, Nikita tried to force her eyes to focus.

Bright light rendered useless what little vision she had regained. In reaction, the muscles of her arm contracted. A slow process was started that would bring her hands to her face. Nikita longed to turn around and locate that place of serenity once more. She hadn't even full walked into the realm of the living, and yet she wanted to flee from the pain her life held. For years, Nikita had held the ache within her. It was a part of her. Yet in the precious haze, she had finally found sanctuary from herself. She had been free.

Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes in confusion. Her hand refused to obey her urgent request. She didn't remember being injured. One moment the words of freedom danced on her tongue. The next she felt Michael's warmth engulf her being. Sighing into his strength, she succumbed to the now welcomed blackness. But that didn't explain....

Pulling at her wrist, realization forced it's way into her befuddled mind. Constricting tightly against her soft skin, the roughed leather of straps held her in place. Ignoring her bodies discomfort, the operative came to the forefront. Moving her limbs, Nikita soon realized the severity of her situation. Anchored to a padded table, her bare skin puckered in the cool air. Goosebumps erected their tiny mountain chains across her expansive flesh. The only areas left untouched was the tender tissue covered with pliant hide.

Twisting the material left to right, Nikita tested its strength. It was a futile effort, but one she had to try. Her mind soon shifted to her surroundings. The cream walls did not portray the starkness of Section's White Room. Yet the softer hue was the only difference. Shinny medical instruments lay in their respective places on a nearby tray. Aside from the contraption she was strapped too and that demonic tray, nothing else could be found. Even with its changed ambiance, Nikita knew where she was. This was Section.

If she had any doubts, they were erased as the door to her new home slid open. In walked the master herself. Clad in dark brown, Madeline wore a look of determination. Coming closer, she silently contemplated the one before her. Strapped to the table Nikita exposed her battered flesh for all to see.

Lowering a slender hand, fingertips lightly ran over Nikita's skin as Madeline walked around her prone victim. Slowly they covered every inch of flesh teasing her into awareness. Wanting to call out in distress, Nikita instead swallowed the reaction Madeline was trying to taunt from her. Calling upon the emotional emptiness she just learned, Nikita separated herself from the physical body that was latched to the table. Blank eyes stared into space as her body was manipulated.

Growing restless with the lack of reaction, Madeline surrendered to her technique's failure. Nikita had learned too much. She was a dangerous unknown. Her mind held a strength that captivated her. It was a strength she wanted to personally shatter.

Lifting a cloth from part of the Medical try, Madeline found what she was searching for. Priming the large device, a spatter of liquid flew into the air. With deft hand and incredible speed, sharp metal drew blood from Nikita's alabaster flesh. Throwing all her weight into one move, Madeline thrust the long needle into the blonde's chest. Bringing her head a few inches from Nikita's, Madeline watched the discomfort form. The grimace she saw only caused her to thrust the needle in deeper until it penetrated the heart sack. Smiling in satisfaction, the plunger was depressed. Liquid fire poured directly into Nikita's body. Each drop was a hot lance that scalded her tender organs.

In seconds, a sheen of sweat covered Nikita. Laying in agony, she tried to ignore the intense suffering. Soon it was too much and an animalistic scream rent through the still air.

The last thing she heard was a husky laugh followed by the whispered comment.... "Just the beginning..."

***********

"Had enough yet?"

Madeline's quiet yet determined voice barely broke through to Nikita. Waves of exhaustion slammed into her with relentless determination. The sinister drugs filtering through her system made talking an impossibility. Labored intake of air over her parched lips sapped what little strength she had left. Her fighting spirit struggled to regain mental footing. Her azure eyes flickered at unseen forms. She wanted to respond, yet her body had given up the fight. Why was this happening? Why? Before she could utter a word, the calm serenity of darkness won once more.

The slight pinch of Madeline's features was the only outward sign of her worry. This had been going on for 16 hours. The deadly cocktail of toxins administered was her own special mix. Mental hallucinations coupled with the physical agony they caused had been known to fell greater opponents in much less time. Still Nikita endured. For 16 arduous hours, she resisted. With each twitch, each scream and each tear the blonde fought against the demons that Madeline introduced.

Walking toward her query curled in the corner, Madeline squatted down next to Nikita's prone form. Gently smoothing the matted blonde hair away from her forehead, Madeline shook her head. Nikita was beyond cognition. Her questions would have to wait... again. Lifting the edge of her white tank top, Madeline sighed at the purple and blue marks on her otherwise pristine skin. She had grossly miscalculated. Nikita always portrayed such strength, even in her weakest moments. She had gone too far. It would take twice as long to get the information now. Thanks to her delayed efforts the ramifications were bound to be devastating.

Leaving her side, Section One's Himmler vowed to return. Breaking the silence, Madeline unknowingly spoke her thoughts. "Nikita...just tell me what I want to know...and it will be over..."

Deserting the room to its damaged inhabitant, Madeline missed the whispered response from deep within Nikita... "Never..."

~~~~~~~~

"Status?"

"She's still out. Estimate about five more hours until I have closure." Madeline sighed. The moment he had walked into her office, she knew he would not be pleased with her results.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Operations caught her gaze with steely intensity. "We're already walking on thin ice Madeline. I don't know how much longer I can put off Adrian. If this comes to light..."

"I know the consequences Marcus. But we both agreed on this course of action. Five hours is all I need. She will talk." Turning her back on her once lover now compatriot, Madeline tried to dismiss him with coldness.

Warning was evident in his tone. "She's changed Madeline. She belongs to Adrian now..."

Whipping her head around at his doubt, Madeline stilled him with her icy words. "Wrong. I made her...I can break her."

Nodding in acquisition, Operations granted her extension. "Fine. You have your time Madeline. But if..."

"Marcus, by 1830 you will know everything Nikita knows about the Agency's connection to Red Cell."

"I hope so.... for all our sakes....I hope so." His answer was like an invisible blow to her psyche. She knew the consequences. She didn't need his reminders.

The electronic door swished shut... the countdown had begun...

***********

1526 - EST

Wafting from the black ceramic mug, the stale smell of old coffee stilled Michael's hand. Grimacing in disgust, he lowered it to his desk to be forgotten once again. Where had the time gone? Only minutes earlier he had pulled himself away from his voluntary tomb in quick search of caffeine. Each second gone ticked away hours in his mind. Controlling his steaming rage, his gaze fell on to his computer's clock. Eighteen excruciatingly long hours she had been missing... my God what could be happening. Nikita...

When she collapsed into his arms amid the forest green, the world stopped rotating. As Madeline's name spilled from the lips of Manuel, desperation crept into the very fiber of his being. Cradling her against his chest, he brought her back to an uncertain future once more. At some point Michael knew this action would lead to her death. Would it be today? He no longer feared for her life in the field. She was an outstanding operative. Her enemies where from within. Was he to hand her over to her doom?

As the potholes of the dirt road jostled her against him, she remained oblivious. Even the harsh touchdown of Section's C4 transport did not wake her from her stupor. Still she was held within his embrace. Refusing to let go of her unconscious body, Michael offered her what was to be the only comfort she would surely feel for a while. Much to soon Nikita was to be ripped from his grasp. Refusing to give up his burden upon arrival, Michael stoically followed Madeline. Carrying his precious cargo deep within the bowels of Section One, he stopped in front of a long forgotten door. Inside the room that had seen many horrors, Michael swallowed down that bile that rose in his throat. He was the one who tenderly laid her down. Gazing through unshed tears, he followed Madeline's silent request and secured her arms and legs with the supple leather straps. The last sight he was allowed was of her blonde hair spilling onto the table as a medical tray was wheeled into the room.

Then the door closed....

Endlessly he now sat, not allowing himself to rest. He only saw visions of agonizing tortures that Madeline was capable of. Supporting his head between his hands, Michael realized he was still in mission fatigues. Every so often he would make his fruitless trek to Nikita's dungeon. Every time, he would be callously turned away by a frustrated Madeline. Her lack of explanation had been the last straw. Waiting for news on Nikita's condition was driving him to the brink of insanity. So his search had begun.

Back ramrod straight in his ergonomic chair, Michael's only outlet for his internal struggle was the rhythmic pounding of fingers meeting keys. The incessant tapping acted as a repellent for those who thought about interrupting him. Many who did not know would assume him a cold heartless bastard. Nikita's life hung in the balance and all he seemed to care about was the scraps of paper littering his desk.

There could be nothing farther from the truth...

Plugging away in deep concentration, it was the fight for information that consumed his every thought. At every turn, a wall was encountered. Even with the privileges of a Level Five Operative, he wasn't able to uncover any clues deeper then Level Three. There were blackballing him. That was unacceptable.

He needed help.... Leaving his dark abode once more, Michael went in search of the one who could be of assistance. Walking up with the stealth of a shadow, he surprised the young computer genius. Waving away all others present, he got down to business.

"I need video and audio feed on Section 17, room D."

Confused, Birkoff pulled up the schematic. "But that's abandoned space Michael...why?"

Pressing his hand down on the desk next to Birkoff's keyboard, Michael leaned in menacingly. "Just do it. N...O...W..."

Finally taking in the haggard appearance and deadly green eyes, Birkoff immediately went to work. Something wasn't right, and he refused to get in Michael's way. Those who did rarely survived.

Minutes later an electronic shrill came from the computer speakers.

"What?" The man in black snapped. His patience was non existent.

"Uhm give me a 30 minutes. It's locked down tight....Are you sure about this?"

"You have 30 minutes. This is Level Five Birkoff. A minute longer...and you answer to me...." Walking away, Michael disappeared into his dark domain once more.

Typing away, Birkoff's stomach started to knot. Michael only got this protective over one thing...Nikita.... With renewed vigor, he redoubled his efforts.

1610 - EST

"Michael. Live feed active..." Birkoff paused. What he had seen shocked him to the core. But instinctively he knew that it would set the one before him off. "You're not going to like this."

The news pulled Michael from his never-ending nightmare. Nodding at the notification, Michael's finger hovered over the keyboard. He had to know. With his own eyes, he had to see. It would undoubtedly break his heart. Drawing a deep breath, he plunged himself full force into Nikita's hell.

What came onto the small screen all but destroyed him. Sitting on his hands so he wouldn't obliterate his monitor, what he heard visions of murder to roll through his head.

Madeline's voice filled his office "...Nikita... he doesn't love you.... he doesn't need you...neither do we... you were so foolish...Michael only acted upon orders...you disgust him..."

Those words echoed in his mind. **you disgust him...you disgust him...you disgust him** But their impact was nothing compared to the look of anguish on his beloved's face.

Green eyes glazed over in unspeakable anger. Disengaging the safety and inserting a new clip into his gun, mission Michael reared its ugly head. Into the unsuspecting halls of Section, he silently slipped away. It seemed to take forever as he made his way to his destination. With a hand on the door and Nikita's sobs echoing in his ears, Michael registered someone gripping his shoulder from behind. Before he could react, his world was plunged into darkness.

Catching his top operative as he fell, Operations shook his head. He knew he would come. Michael couldn't resist the draw from the gorgeous blonde. Leaning the unconscious Michael against the wall. He just shook his head. "Sorry Michael. Not this time..."

*********** 1738 - EST

Ratty cotton fibers moved back and forth in determined hands. After years of non-use, the observation window was caked with hardened dust and grime. Flaking away layers in sheets, he finally cleared a reasonable viewing area. The image was still murky. Hazy figures sharpened with one last swipe. She was finally awake. And if her posture was any indication, she was madder then hell. Flipping tangled blonde hair out of her face, azure eyes tracked the well-dressed woman circling her. Soundless mouths moved rapidly as the discussion escalated. Trying to make out the volatile conversation, he leaned in against the window.

Watching the match unfold, his head snapped back and forth between the two opponents. A volley of innuendo...a lob of threat...and a smash reality. Frontrunner changing with each utterance. Madeline would fulminate. Nikita would counter. If asked his assessment, most would be surprised at the response. The operative known to be highly emotional was holding her own in this debate of whits. Even after 19 hours of unspeakable mental suffering and physical agony, Nikita had managed to turn the tables on the best Section had to offer. Logic was on her side. Power was now her companion. As each second passed, clarity returned. Even during the short time of his regard, the blonde visibly looked stronger.

Smoke coiled in his lungs and stayed in his throat as blue eyes fell upon the monitoring portal. He knew she couldn't distinguish form, but regardless right into his barren soul she looked. Ignoring her yapping companion, a faint smile curled upon her pinked lips. Yet that was where the smile ended. Her orbs of emotion reflected only one thing... revenge. The sight chilled him to the bone. Here was a woman who he once thought of as weak. Now she was his greatest threat. Bringing the thin tobacco stick to his lips, he was oblivious to the slight tremble of his hand. Eyes shut momentarily as he tried to escape amid the rush of nicotine. Exhaling in relief, his body clenched once more as he watched her mouth direct comments especially for him.

** Damn...what now? ** Marcus was never good at reading people's minds, let alone their lips. He had to know what she was saying. To understand might be the only way to regain the upper hand. Madeline was faltering in frustration. Time was running out.

Glancing around the darkened post, he spotted a solution to his problem. Hastily pushing the sticky cobwebs aside, he took stock of the intercom system. Pulling apart the wires he picked the desired colored strands. Using his teeth, he ripped off the plastic covering to expose fresh copper. Still smarting from the electric shock he received on his moist mouth, Marcus twisted together the green/green and the green/white wires. A loud static pop came from the hidden speakers. Then came the cool, calm and deadly voice of the Council Nikita.

"Come and join us Marcus."

Shaking his head in response, it wasn't until her second request that he realized she couldn't see him.

"Why are you hiding? I know you are in there."

Before he could even think about verbalizing his response, Madeline drew her attention back.

"Nikita. Your time of usefulness has ended in your present situation. Adrian has instructed me to dispose of you." She tried her last wild card. Would it pay off? Moving to stand in front of the seated operative, she leaned down to her level. "But you still have a place within Section One."

Laughter glittered in Nikita's eyes like sunshine reflecting off the Mediterranean Sea. It had been a valiant effort, however unsuccessful. Interested in Madeline's train of thought, she nodded for her to continue.

"We need your information on Red Cell, Nikita. What is the tie to the Agency?" Pausing for effect, she continued. "Can't you remember the pain they caused. Their hands are stained with the blood of friends. Hundreds...no thousands of innocent children have died in torment because of their actions. How can you protect even one of them?"

A flicker of emotion raced across Nikita's face. Yes, she felt the pain. Yes, she heard the death cries of the children. Yes, she wanted revenge. Yet...it wasn't in the cards. The information they sought would change the structure of the global intelligence community. That alone could cause catastrophic loss of life.

Pulling herself together, Nikita stood. Legs stiff from lack of use, she slowly walked around her recent prison. Pressing her hands together she began to clap. The sharp sound echoed throughout the room even filled the hidden alcove. Chuckling she stopped and met angered brown eyes.

"This is not a laughing matter, Nikita. You will die. I will see to it personally. But first the information."

"Oh yes, I will die ...but not from the likes of you...and not today. That was a brilliant try by the way. Award winning effort." Turning her back on the woman who gave her so much pain recently, Nikita started for the observation window. She wasn't finished with him. A growl of frustration warned her of impending danger. In one quick motion, Nikita flipped Madeline onto her back. Pressing her knees deep into the chest wrapped in brown crepe, she shook her head.

"Lesson number one Madeline. When attacking from behind, always go for the kidneys."

Leaning forward she proceeded. "What time is it?"

Momentarily stunned by the change in topic, she responded without thinking. "About five after six."

"Good, I have 20 minutes before I report to Adrian. Her reaction should be rather interesting. Don't you think?"

For the first time Nikita saw fear in the woman many thought had no heart. "But..."

"Even from your own lips, you said you would be ready for me in the future. Well the future is now, Madeline...and you are inadequately prepared." Pulling her to her feet, Nikita shook her head toward the sealed chamber door. "Open it..."

Reaching for her remote control, Madeline couldn't let her have the last word. She feebly tried to shake the one so in control. "I wasn't lying Nikita, Michael used you. You were just a job."

Nodding in understanding, laughter was her only response as the electronic door swished open. "Everything classifies as a job Madeline...you taught me that."

"What about O'Malley?"

Stopping in confusion, the blonde turned and shrugged her shoulders.

"I know you were with him Nikita. What about him? Is he more important then your precious Michael?"

She was really reaching for straws. A younger Nikita would have reacted, but this one saw it for what it was....a desperate attempt. "Just a means to an end Madeline...a means to an end."

With that Nikita left the chamber that had been her living hell...

***********

The silvered coating reflected an image she did not want to see. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises created an intricate mosaic. Their colors showed random displays as the blues and reds melded with stark white. Stepping closer to the mirror, rough flesh came into view. Abrasions sat highlighting interruptions on her otherwise silky skin. She was in bad shape. The worst of her damage hung over her heart. Stagnant blood pooled under the surface of her left breast, as a large hemitoma rapidly spread. The witch had been careless in removing the long spike of steel that kicked off her recent torture. With the constant tightening of her chest, Nikita knew she should have it checked out. But time was of the essence, so the damage was forgotten for now. If she had only known...

Turning around quickly, her damp head hung in disbelief. Besides the fresh wound inflicted by Madeline, she couldn't tell where one injury stopped and the next started. The fractures her ribs suffered from the speeding car seemed miniscule now. Turning her wrist over, scabbing on her knuckles foretold her disintegration in the alley. The scratches on her back and thighs reflected the episode that was forever in the front of her mind. Her night of hazy passion with O'Malley just wouldn't leave her alone. The look of disbelief in Michael's green eyes at her deceit tore into her. She knew the words Madeline drilled into her head like a drug-induced mantra were false. However she just pilled them on, letting each phrase increase her self-incrimination. She really was of no use...it would be best if...**sigh**

Glancing at the clock, Nikita was forced into overdrive. Contemplation was rescheduled for another time when self-pity could be fully explored. Throwing on a dark cotton top and skirt, she successfully covered the map of pain and torture so evident upon her skin. It took a moment more to hide the emotional turmoil, but soon even that was tucked away. Taking stock on last time, she was ready.

With three minutes to spare, Nikita raced towards her office. Her wet hair glistened in the clinical light. Turning the corner at breakneck speed, she plowed into an unsuspecting operative.

"uhmmpff" Being that he was solidly built and taller then she, Nikita was the one to loose her footing. Glancing up from her position on the floor. A twinge of smile conveyed her apology. Soon she was picked up and on her way once more.

As she slid into her seat and prepared for her private briefing, a tap on her door distracted her.

"Yes?"

Birkoff proceeded to walk in without asking. His cautious eyes racked over every inch of her. "You're okay? I...ah....was worried."

"Just fine, Birkoff. A little tired. Hate to do this but.." She nodded toward the screen on her right. Shrugging her shoulders, she proceeded. "Adrian..."

Quietly he leaned against her desk. "I know, this is important...Where did Michael go after he got you out?"

Confused, Nikita turned her eyebrows raised in delicate arches. "What are you talking about? He wasn't there..." She worked through the visions that flooded through her memory. She had seen demons and innuendoes but they were all related to Madeline. Michael wasn't there. He wouldn't have done that to her.

Taking a deep breath, Birkoff shock his head. "Are you sure, you were under some pretty heavy stuff."

Getting slightly annoyed, Nikita remembered again. He was constantly in her thoughts, but no she hadn't seen him. Her last recollection was the look of worry in his eyes as the darkness took over its control. "No... last time was in the field...Why?"

Muttering an expletive, Birkoff thought he might be overreacting. She deserved to know the truth however. "He knew where you were. He tapped into the video feed."

Turning a lovely shade of ghostly white, Nikita pulled together the pieces. "Damn...when was the last time...?"

"Over two hours ago. I was able to track him down with the surveillance cameras. He was going to see you. Did he...?"

Shaking her head in disbelief, the blonde let out a sigh. "No damn it...I never saw him."

Could he have been the one in the surveillance alcove? Could he have been...no...it was impossible... She needed to know more. "How was he? Was he...?"

Interrupting her, the computer genius knew her concern. "No Nikita, he was enraged. He wasn't involved." Birkoff had never seen the look of sheer determination on Michael's face before. No take that back, only once before. His green eyes had burned just like when he took off to find her in Columbia.

Forgetting about her teleconference, Nikita bolted for the door. The sharp beep of a session being opened was like ice water splashed against her skin. Reality... Michael... Adrian... Oh God, how was she going to justify her failure?

Tension clenched her muscles as she returned to her seat. Dismissing Birkoff with a wave, she activated her link. Plastering a smile across her face, Nikita address her new boss.

"Adrian. What can I do for you?"

An elegant and deceptively feminine voice filled her office. Her disapproval was apparent as she rushed past the niceties. "What happened Nikita? I expected you to return with your package hours ago. You were not successful. Care to explain?"

Straightening a bit in her chair, Nikita coldly answered. "We ran into a few unforeseen circumstances. It has only cost little delay. It will not happen again. We will have closure."

Leaning forward into the video unit, Adrian barely controlled her fury. "You call being tortured by Madeline for 18 hours a little delay? Not only have you jeopardized your mission, but also you created a powerful enemy. Come in immediately."

Shaking her head in disagreement, the blonde contradicted her superior. "I understand, but I can't do that. Leaving would cost us the overall objective. Michael is..."

"Get out now Nikita, or I won't be responsible for the outcome. We will determine the next course of action when you get here."

Chilled by the dangerous tone, Nikita had no choice. A slight nod informed Adrian she would be in route. Her stomach heaved with the thought of leaving Michael. He was missing because he tried to save her, and she had to abandon him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but a silent promise was made. She would come back. If they harmed him, Section One would pay.

A tear fell as she slinked into the shadows. **I will return...I will return...** Thus Nikita stealthily disappeared from the compound known as Section One. Her body may have left, but her heart remained with the one whose future was unknown...

***********

The pendulum was in motion and racing down at full speed. In contrast her life was propelling itself out of control with deceptive slowness. It had been so gradual that Nikita had no idea how to stop it or in fact how she had gotten there. As each second piled upon the last, her uneasiness grew. Even though her body ached with injuries, the torment she experienced had little to do with physical pain. They were simply dwarfed by pure helplessness. Not since the gavel was dropped by that nameless judge long ago, had Nikita felt so...lost. Once her finger had caressed the cold steel of her gun. She had a choice then. She could die...but not now. Never would she completely abandon Michael in a time of need, no matter the damage to herself. To permanently slip into oblivion before he was safe was unthinkable. True, he may have retreated so far back that his image was blurred, but she vowed he would never walk this path alone. That was her cross to carry, being his companion however distant. His survival was the only tie she had to existence. He was her link to the world... to life...to love - a love she longed for since childhood.

The air was finally starting to cool down as the sun journeyed towards the horizon. Amber light softened the harsh tones of the docks. Gull cries mixed with an ever present lapping of water against wooden planks. It was surreal and it hit home. There was such beauty in real life and such dismay in hers. Walking for miles in heavy humidity, black cotton stuck to her skin accentuating her toned body underneath. Wiping beads of sweet from her brow, she leaned into the light breeze coming off the water. Resting against the weathered rail, Nikita's body began to cool. With breathing returning to normal, her focus changed from heat to aches. For the last hour 3 inch spikes pounded into the bottom of her feet. Each contact with the hard ground put pressure onto her worn-out flesh. Transferring weight from one foot to another, all she concentrated on was willing the pain away. Mind over matter had to work this time. She couldn't have that distraction.

Glancing at her watch, Nikita waited restlessly. Adrian's lackey was late. Of course he was, today of all days. Finally the distant hum of a motor boat broke through her contemplation. With the waning light, Nikita watched the vehicle float to a stop in front of her. Yet when the driver's head turned, her stomach lurched. Looking into longing blue eyes, she almost lost her focus. Without a sound, she climbed aboard and waited. Taking a deep breath, Nikita tried to let the gentle rocking calm her nerves. It was working until a timbered voice made her jump.

"You look like hell."

Nikita couldn't deny it. She felt like death warmed over, but it was the last thing she wanted to hear from him. Actually he was the last individual she wanted to see. Just the sight of his muscular body clad in khaki slacks and white silk shirt threw her for a loop. His wind tossed hair only reminded her of a night not so long ago.

Hoping the glazed look of remembrance was hid by her dark glasses, Nikita couldn't stop the flashes of the past.

...bare skin...

...blue eyes shuttered in passion...

...the feel of his hard body against hers, his arms encircling her, his groan of release in her ears...

**SNAP OUT OF IT!!!** Shaking her head, Nikita had to regain focus. Michael's life was at stake. Even the hot, albeit drugged, night spent in Jared's arms could not be a diversion.

"Yeah well...it's been a long day," was all she could get out of her parched throat. Grabbing for cool bottle of water, Nikita tried to ignore her once friend and compatriot. In all actuality, she didn't know how to feel. She went into his arms on her own accord, with her own purpose. Yet even in her drugged state, she enjoyed the sharing of their bodies. The drugs she still didn't understand, but she knew there had to be another more sinister reason behind his action. She couldn't have been that wrong about him. Jared cared. She even would wager that he loved her. But there would always be something standing between them...the Agency and...Michael.

"You okay?" Dark sapphire blue burned into her.

Feeling his concern on two levels, Nikita ignored the deeper meaning. It was just too dangerous a ground right now. "It's all part of the job Jared."

"That's not what I asked. You can barely stand up. What did they do to you?"

Taking a drag of water, she shrugged her shoulders while trying to hide the pain that action cause. "A little of this.... a little of that...standard invasive interrogation."

Muttering, O'Malley stalked over to the seated Nikita and ripped off her glasses. "Nothing Section does is standard. What the hell did Madeline do?"

Turning her head so he couldn't see the tears that threatened to fall, she pried her glasses out of his fingers.

"Nothing Jared. I'm fine."

Seething, O'Malley knew they were running late, and Adrian hated to being kept waiting. Nikita had to reach to her destination, but this conversation was far from over. Moving to the helm, he threw the throttle down. The boat lurched forward and almost tossed Nikita off the back.

Understanding his concern, the tall blonde made her way next to his side. Placing her hand over his, she coaxed the lever back to a less dangerous position. Lightly rubbing his fingers, she stepped away.

How one action could calm such a raging beast was unknown, but the fire in Jared's soul was doused. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he pulled her close. Into her hair he softly spoke his sincere words of apology.

"I...I...ah man...I"

Shifting to meet his gazed, Nikita shook her head in understanding. Whispering back words that partially healed his soul, Nikita spoke. "I don't know the exact reason Jared, but I understand. We all do what we have to do. It is who we are."

Afraid of the emotions that were so close to the surface, all O'Malley could do was nod in relief and apprehension.

As twilight replace dusk, the sleek boat moved closer to its destination. With in 200 yards the two operatives separated and prepared for what was in store. Docking at Adrian's floating palace, Nikita and O'Malley parted ways. Nikita had to handle this one alone. She had to determine the next step they would take. A life depended on it.

Going below deck, Nikita walked unattended to Adrian's private chambers. Entering upon cue, Nikita started to launch into debrief even before she sat down. Stopped suddenly by a slight wave of her bosses hand, she sat puzzled. Adrian hardly acknowledged her presence.

After a few minutes of silence, the elegantly dressed Adrian lowered her headset. Holding Nikita's eyes, her hand transferred the device over to her operative.

"You might find this interesting." The echo of her heals against marble signaled Adrian's retreat.

In confusion, Nikita donned her new set of ears and turned the monitor. The image was a dream. Michael had been found. A smile lit her features until the camera panned away from his tired face.

White walls...

Restraining chair...

And Madeline...

"Oh God..." Nikita couldn't turn away. She forced herself to look and listen.

Her dream turned into a nightmare.

***********

To and fro, the boat subconsciously wrapped her arms around Nikita. Offering comfort in this untenable situation, the seaworthy vessel gently rocked the mesmerized operative. With glassy eyes, she stared at the screen before her. Stiff limbs lay absolutely motionless. Her head hung down as her blonde hair grazed the desk before her. The only visible sign of life was the steady rise and fall of her breasts. She saw only one thing....Michael. She felt only two things....anger and a sick sense of....awe.

As the seconds turned to minutes, she observed the interrogation of a Level Five Operative. What she had been through recently was miniscule compared to this. Madeline had physically worked her over. The damage inflicted was great, but this....**Oh Michael...** How a human being could handle all he had been through, Nikita did not know. It was painfully obvious that Madeline had traveled this road before. She knew her way around his defenses. Which such skill she tore at the walls he had erected around his soul. Brick...by...brick she removed his restraints until a tiny crack was apparent. With the precision of an Orthoscopic surgeon, her innuendoes and threats slipped through the chasm she created and lanced his wounded psyche. Each word shook her too the core. In dread she watched the breaking of Michael.

45 minutes...He spoke...

75 minutes...He hung his head...

120 minutes...the process was complete...

Within the span of two hours, Nikita studied the techniques of Madeline. The shots had been called, the guns were drawn. From start to finish, Nikita had learned more then she wanted to know. Section's psychiatrist waded through his childhood nightmares, the name of his cat, the demons he faced with every waking moment. It was only when her name was mentioned that he froze. It was the one barrier she could not break. A wall erected to protect his love. They had been there before. Chipping endlessly, Madeline rammed into his virtual titanium barrier. Only in the end did he give. A shake of a head, a single tear fell. It was matched with one sliding down Nikita's cheek.

Once Michael's soul was bared and open, the process of rebuilding was began. Pliable as clay, Michael was molded into the image of the perfect Operative. ... no heart and no feelings... only the desire to protect Section at all costs. Over the years, Nikita often pondered the sudden mood swings Michael would go through. Now she knew the reason. He was constantly changing...constantly having to rebuild himself.

But one thing was the same....his feelings for her...

Nikita listened to his new directive. It went against what they both held dear. Shaking her head in dismay, she knew their time was almost at an end. Worry crept into her. How would he react? How could he not be the machine Section wanted him to be? They made him...they owned him...Could she trust him?

Turning from the monitor, Nikita removed the com link from her head. The soft glow of lanterns filled the elegant stateroom. To her dismay, Nikita noticed Adrian sitting on the sofa across the room. For hours emotions had rolled unchecked across her features, now one with so much power perhaps knew too much. But then, it seemed that Adrian knew all.

"Well?" A lyrical voice called from the shadows.

Sighing in response, Nikita couldn't stop the moisture that filled her eyes. "He has his orders..."

"Was it what you expected?"

Contemplating, blonde hair moved back and forth as Nikita shook her head. "He is to return me to Section's control for good."

Uncrossing her legs, Adrian asked for clarification. "And if that is not possible?"

Closing her eyes, Nikita leaned back in her chair. "Immediate cancellation."

Moments passed in silence. Nikita jumped as she felt a slender hand on her shoulder. Looking into Adrian's violet eyes, she waited.

"What do you think he will do?"

Shrugging her shoulders slightly, the blonde beauty wrestled with the options. "He is so Section Adrian. I don't know, but..."

"But what?"

"He has protected me in the past. However after that little display, the odds aren't good." Subconsciously she leaned into Adrian's touch.

"What is your gut feeling?"

Sighing, Nikita brought her fingers to her weary face. "It may take some time, but it can be done. We should proceed."

In an instant that soft voice of comfort changed to a harsh voice of power. "You understand the consequences of failure. He becomes one of us, or he dies. If you return empty handed again.....you die....."

Before Nikita could respond, the room was abandoned to her alone. Accessing her files on the network, Nikita started to layout her plan. It would be iffy, but there was no other way.

If only she knew what he was thinking...

***********

It had been early in the morning when Nikita's head dented her fluffy pillow. The comfort she anticipated, and looked forward to, was not to be found. Screaming with exhaustion, her body battled with her thoughts. Churning as a sea in the throws of a hurricane, her mind ran through detail after detail. In the end only one thing remained, the uncertainty. It wasn't until pink tinges touched the sky that her body succumbed to slumber. As the morning birds chirped their song, restlessly she tossed and turned. Periodically a cry would break the ocean calm. A name...his name echoed off the wood walls. Her voice laced with sleep held varying degrees of longing, fear and a hefty dose of desperation.

Nikita was caught within the folds and creases of dreamland.

As each day passed, harder it became to differentiate those visions from her waking nightmares. They became one in focus and intent. Before, she would eagerly race into the night mist. There her soul would be recharged with her own brand of brightness and charm. Now, no longer would the sentient realm allow such refreshes. Her spirit had faded. George would have been pleased.

Only the whoosh from helicopter blades pulled her from her sleep. Rolling to her feet in one movement, Nikita was reminded of her battered condition. Yet again she ignored the pain. It had become a constant reminder that she was alive. She welcomed it.

Hastily dressing, Nikita lumbered up on deck in search of her hostess and friend. Pushing her flailing hair away from her face, she realized she was too late. Rising from the helipad, the beast gained its wings. Into the sky it flew carrying its passengers on another journey. Waving goodbye, Nikita watched the aircraft depart until it became a speck in the sky.

The day was one of beauty. Bright azure skies danced mid the white streaks known as clouds. It was almost a dream. Almost. How she wished she could waste away beneath the sun, letting it's warmth find her inner being and restore it to its former condition. But that was not to be. Time was of the essence. And if she were to face Michael, she must be prepared.

Her plans were ready, and had even been approved. It was time to make her move.

Below deck Nikita disrobed and walked into the bathroom. Shuddering at the sight of the fiberglass encased shower, she forced herself to turn the nob. As the beads of steaming water started to descend, the blonde stifled an oath. Visions of Adrian's parting gift came unabated into her mind.

In the early hours while the rest of the world slept, Adrian showed Nikita one last video file. It was a warning and in a way an eerie premonition of what was to come. The room was drab gray, the dungeon was what she called it. Alone this poor unfortunate soul sat waiting. Then it began. Streams of scalding water pelting his exposed flesh. Boiling him alive. Shouts of pain, frustration and finally acquiescence could be heard over the whispering rain.

Bile rose in her throat, as she remembered the puckered flesh. Blisters formed upon his reddened skin. Finally breaking, the open sores exposed the tissue underneath. Yet still that water came. It was not enough. Soon flesh, skin and hair sluffed off and lay on the floor mixing with the steaming liquid concoction of blood and water that drained off his body.

Nikita tried to pull away...to stop watching, but Adrian gripped her shoulder tight. She narrated the scene before her. Her lyrical voice chilled the very core of Nikita. Only when the last vestige of life disappeared did the water stop flowing on her command. Tears ran down Nikita's cheeks dripping onto her lap. The monitor was silenced, but Adrian continued. Only one thing was said... "Do not fail."

Now it was the morning after. Preparing for the most important mission of her life, she was faced with a nightmare that might be her future. Pushing aside the curtain, Nikita forced herself under the warm water raining down from the faucet. Adrian had calculated properly. There was no bathtub, only the shower so strikingly similar to the dungeon of torture. It was a viscous reminder, one that would not leave her the hapless pawn's mind.

Quickly sudsing and rinsing, she stepped back into her meager reality. Tomorrow was the day. Would she be ready? Her life would be in Michael's hands once more. What would he do?

***********

His black leather jacket whipped viciously in the evening breeze. Flapping against his muscled form, Michael ignored the touch and retreat of the dark subtle flesh. Leaning lower against the handlebars, he pulled back the throttle and raced into the black night. Speeding past darkened alleys and abandoned stores, the scream of the engine never lessened. Soon trees and shrubs reflected it's evergreen blur against his lowered visor. City streets now were rural roads, and he continued to run. Running from or too what, he did not know. But the purring of the engine against his body relaxed his mind like no other. The constant mechanical whine had become the cry of his soul.

Turning sharply onto a dirt road, the back tires spun against the gravel throwing pebbles into the moonlight. Never slowing down, Michael compensated and leaned towards the moving ground. Miniscule movements of his thighs and torso guided the bike with exact precision. It was an extension of his body. He pushed the machine to the limits of breaking. The only difference was the inanimate object was his voice as well. Never quiet, its cry was always stated. Either with a low hum or constant wailing, it was never silent. It did what Michael could not...express audible pain...and sorrow.

Gunning the machine once more, he left behind clouds of dust. But the worry and problems continued to follow him. Refusing to be ignored, each had become second skin. He could not outrun them.

Another hour passed as he moved deeper and deeper into the wilderness. Following a mental map, Michael worked towards his destination. A sliver of silver in the distance caused him to slow down. Pulling off to the side of the nameless road, Michael stretched his legs and deftly jumped over a low wooden rail. Removing his helmet, the moonlight kissed the moist curls on his head. Even in the dark, he was a warrior. He belonged in the shadows. But at times like this, the gods worshiped his perfect form with night magic and misty light.

Walking a few feet, he came upon what he was searching for. Kneeling down on the grassy bank, Michael dipped his bare hand into the cool stream. Splaying his fingers in the slow moving water, he relished in the purity. Removing a square of cloth, he let the water saturate the fabric before bringing it to his overheated face. Wiping away the sweat and tears of the past few hours, Michael closed his eyes at the sweet kiss of coolness. Sighing he rested against the ground. He gave himself this one moment. This time was his to appreciate the beauty of a summer night...and of being alive. Every other second of his existence, someone else owned him. Section yes...but more importantly Nikita. Her tie to him was so much stronger. Her grip on his heart would never fade...even in death. They were inexplicably bound...forever.

A noisy buzz rudely broke into his thoughts a minutes later. Pulling out his cell phone, he brought it to his ear.

"Yes."

It was Nikita's husky voice that greeted him. "Michael...."

His audible response was non-existent. But his head instantly hung at the voice of the one he loved. Things were such a tumbled mess. He had no idea how to get them out of this situation. He finally whispered back into the night. "Nikita"

He knew her so well. He could literally see the tears threatening to overthrow her eyelids. Her face surely reflected an expression of sorrow, but her voice held a certain resignation he did not understand.

"I need to see you...." She proceeded.

He agreed. "Yes...where?"

He was almost shocked at her response. But then for 4 years he had conditioned himself to not be surprised by Nikita. With a shake of his head, his tone was one of smiling amazement. They were so in tune. Their subconscious even thought as one. It was the exact place he intended to meet her.

"I will be there within the hour."

Both hung up as his last words finished. Gathering his equipment quickly, Michael departed from his alcove of solitude. Hopping on his bike, he continued on his way. Only this time his smirk of anger was replaced with a slight smile. They had serious things to discuss. Decisions needed to be made. But he was going to be with Nikita. That was reason enough to smile.

***********

The motorcycle was ditched about a mile from his destination. Moving off of the dusty road, he worked his way through the trees and bushes pausing every few steps to listen. Off in the distance the hooting of the night owl called for its mate. Crickets chirped from beneath fallen leaves and limbs. He was alone with nature and the moonlight. Assured of no danger, his quest was resumed. Years and years of missions honed his defensive skills to the point of second nature. Even in the sparsely populated woods, he was the machine they trained him to be. It was in his blood...it was who he was.

Breaking through the barrier of foliage, the hunting cabin finally appeared. Rustic and hidden from view, the dwelling welcomed him with the soft candlelight glow from its windows. The prospect of firelight and cozy warmth was welcomed. But it was the one within its walls that called to him like a siren's song. Lured by her charm, lured by her heart, Michael made his way around the structure. Satisfied that they would not be interrupted by some outside force for the time being, he took the porch stairs one at a time.

They both had been here before. Eons ago it seemed. The mission had been ill fated from the start. It only brought tension between them. Michael, because he was forced to fight for her life, and in the end suffer with her ungrateful attitude. Nikita, because Michael gave up an innocent's life (Lisa) to save hers. It had been the rise and fall of David Fanning.

As the door opened, green eyes quickly scanned the room. Stilled by the sight of the fireplace, he willed the picture of Nikita in chains from his mind. Even though he had not seen her bondage and was working from her words, he felt every twinge and pull from the molded steel to this day. Here she had held her own. Here he had given all to save his love. Here they could meet on even ground.

He called to her from the entrance. "Nikita?"

A flash of light and smell of sulfur came from a darkened corner. Startled by the action, Michael watched the match touched a worn wick and began melting paraffin wax. It's fragrant berry smell wafted towards him slowly. The flickering light reflected on blonde hair like brushed gold.

Tilting back and forth in her wooden rocking chair, Nikita wrapped warm fleece around her body forming a protective barrier against the untold future. Through sheltered eyes, she watched Michael case the room as he proceeded to her side. The closer he came, the faster her heart pounded. She suppressed the urge to rush into his arms. She craved the feeling of his strong muscles wrapping around her body. She needed to feel secure, and he could provide that. But still she sat. As he moved within the radius of the firelight, his features were illuminated. The tightening in her chest and lungs increased with what she saw. Pure emotion was found. The range was staggering.

Throwing his gloves down on a nearby end table, Michael stopped directly in front of her. With a speed that still amazed and startled her, he dropped to his knees. Placing his elbows on her lap, he searched the fold for her hands. Dragging them from her cocoon, he raised her white skin towards him. When they were a hairs breadth from his soft lips, he stopped. Thick lashes dropped against his cheek as he took in her unique scent.

Gazing at his face, Nikita froze. She could not move. Tears that threatened to fall all day, spilled over the lip they rested on. A slight groan wrenched from her body, as his heated breath mixed with the fine blonde hairs on her skin. When his open mouth touched her knuckles, her body literally shook with desire and sadness.

"Michael..."

Green eyes emerged from their shuttered condition. Raking his tongue over the sensitive flesh between her fingers one last time, he lifted his head and blew the moist flesh lightly. Yet it was the tears the rolled down her face one by one, which stilled his heart and stopped his lungs. Lifting a shaking hand, he cupped her face and caught the salty droplets. Bringing them to his lips he drank the elixir of love and pain.

"Sshhhh... mon coer...sshhhh" He whispered amid the rocking and crackling fire.

"We need to..." Nikita's was stopped by the touch of a roughened fingertip against her lip. Questioning, liquid blue met pure silver.

With a shake of a head, he let her know that now was not the time. They could discuss their situation later.

Understanding that this may be their last moment together, Nikita separated her lips and tentatively touched her tongue to his skin. Shaken to the core by the heat the spread through her body, she leaned into him. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to his will. He controlled her with just his presence.

Michael knew it was a gift he had been given when she turned herself over to him. She was his to treasure, to tease and to please. With the sharp tightening of his groin, he stood up swiftly. Before she could complain at his retreat, Michael swept her up into his arms blanket and all. Turning a half step, he lowered himself into her recently abandoned chair. Pulling her down against him, he cradled her like a cherished porcelain doll. Pushing off with one foot, they slowly rocked together in the firelight.

Turning her head slightly, she was amazed to see his eyes filled with unshed tears. Leaning in centimeter by centimeter, her lips sought out his. With open eyes and open hearts, their lips touched in a soul-stopping kiss.

***********

Gently at first, closed mouths met. Back and forth their lips rubbed with feathery light touches. Sensitive flesh committed to memory the elastic feel of the other. They were locked in their own little world of restrained desire and overflowing love. The flicker of firelight reflected in his silver eyes as he gazed at her sweet face. Soon tiny flecks of misty green deepened to emerald before her eyes. Held within his embrace, Nikita crawled into his skin. Propelled by the motion of the chair, she subconsciously sank deeper into him. Wrapping her in a paradise of heat and pleasure, their bodies melted into one. Where one started and the next began was not known.

Responding to her nearness, his muscles tensed and grew beneath her back and hips. Teased by his reaction, nerves she thought dead woke from their long slumber. And still their lips whispered together. Periodically one would purse their mouth opening it slightly. Warm misty breath spilled out over the others face beckoning a closer inspection.

Eyelashes dropped to their cheeks at the same time. Giving in to an irrepressible desire, Michael sipped from her wonderful mouth. Her taste overwhelmed his senses. Drinking in her brand of spice and freshness, he let his palate immerse itself. She was citrus and cinnamon mixed with the fresh mountain air. It was a combination that would haunt his soul's every waking moment. Only in his sleep would he come close to doing the memory justice.

Raising her hands to his face, Nikita stroked his chiseled features. Pulling back she broke from his intoxicating kiss. Through shuttered eyes, she watched his mouth lean forward in search of hers. Holding his face still, her fingers continued their travels. Brushing over his long lashes and across his cheekbones, she wondered if he had every been this beautiful. This was how she wanted to remember him. Gone was the look of determination. Gone was the pucker of concentration on his forehead. All that was left was the man she had come to love. His passion seeped out of every pore.

Moving back to his mouth, she tested his rosy flesh. He shuddered as her fingertip grazed the smoothness of his swollen lips. Unable to be apart for even this long, she tried to claim he mouth with hers once more. It was Michael however that pulled back. Tenderly kissing her fingers, he sucked them one by one into his mouth. Teasing them with his tongue, he watched her azure eyes deepen to a navy blue. Lightly blowing across her moist digits, he smiled as she groaned in reaction. The dichotomy of heat and cool threw Nikita's senses into haywire. Goose bumps raised on her sensitized flesh.

She watched as he placed her hands into her lap. Pulling down the fleece cocoon she encased herself in earlier, his nimble fingers ever so slowly plucked at the buttons of her shirt. As each tiny obstacle was revealed, the warm glow of fire bounced off her skin. Soon she was shimmering gold within his arms....his golden girl.

Stabbed by the sweetness and pain of this moment, Michael was in awe. Bared to the waist, the perfect woman sat in his lap. Her bruises were ignored. In his eyes, she was smooth flesh and milky white. She was his Aphrodite. Her silky hair encased her shoulders and back, just barely touching the tips of her breasts. With an unsteady hand, he moved aside her mane of gossamer. While continuing the chair's swaying motion, Michael leaned down and blew on her nipple. In amazement he sat back and watched it tighten into a nub. As if walking in a dream, his hand moved of it's own accord. Lightly flicking the edge of his fingernail against her rock hard bud, he teased her. Nikita couldn't help but arch her back in response. Uttering a low growl, she tried to move closer to him but couldn't. His other hand splayed against her side keeping her in place.

Lifting his forefinger to her open mouth, he gently placed it on her tongue. For as long as he could take it, he let her bathe his finger with her mouth. When her lips encased his entire finger, he knew he was running out of time. Even he had his limits. Reclaiming his own hand, he watched Nikita watch him. Slowly he lowered his finger to her nipple. Rotating the dark pink and coating it with liquid, he grinned at her response. The slightest touch of his hand to her fanned the flames of her passion.

When he had her moaning incoherently, he at last gave her what she desired. His mouth finally made contact. A jolt ran through his body at the intimate feel of her breast. Teasing and nipping, he suckled first her left than her right. Yet only when her body was as taut as a string, did he slip his hand lower. Encountering downy flesh, he waited. As she slowly recovered from the brink of heaven he would not give her, Michael grasped onto her nipple and rolled it between his teeth. Simultaneously, he slipped a long and agile finger into her hot and wet passage.

Nikita's body filled with a deep warmth, building with each slight movement of his hand. Before his finger was completely buried, spasms began. Starting with her groin it moved to her stomach, her chest, her arms/ legs and finally her head repeatedly whipped against him in release.

He was the musician, and his instrument of melody was her body. Effortlessly he drew from her a concerto of passion. The highs....lows...pianissimo...and finally fortissimo... Nikita's husky cry finally broke out within the secluded cabin mixing with the crackling fire and the wooden scrape of a rocking chair. It was the most beautiful music Michael had ever heard.

***********

Slowly drifting back to reality, Nikita felt Michael's arms tighten around her. Still feeling tiny spasms of delight coursing, she rested her hand on his. Expecting him to remove his finger, she was shocked when he kept it sheathed within her. A slight shift and he was literally surrounded by quivering muscles as they sighed to the perfect tune he orchestrated. Finally her breathing returned to a normal pace. Welcoming her to sanity once more, his hard member pressed into her reminding her of his need. With each consecutive motion of the chair, he grew even larger. Turning her head slightly, she watched his face. He had taken her to the pinnacle of passion and restrained his own. And for that she loved him all the more. A streak of impetuousness flashed to the surface as she pushed her hips back against him ever so slightly. If his heart rate was any indication, he felt every move.

With eyes tightly closed, Michael tried to reign in his desire. Her body still shimmered from his mouth and hand, and she was playfully pushing him to the point of no return. He wanted to throw her down in the firelight, letting her blonde hair settle on top of the fur rug. Oh to watch as the golden flames flickered over every inch of her as he pushed into her for the first time. To hear her sigh and groan as he started to build up her passion once more. He had to be buried within her....soon. He needed to feel what his finger had just experienced. To have her convulse and sigh in his arms as he showed her that she owned him body and soul. He would ravish her, and in doing so take them to heights they had never reached. He ....needed.....her. It was that simple.

Before he could even think about putting his sexual plan into action, Nikita moved off his lap. The absence of her heat caused his skin to pucker underneath his black clothes. He was so lost in thought, he almost didn't catch Nikita as her legs gave out when she tried to stand. Jolting to her side in a flash, his arms encircled her back holding her against him.

With a slight chuckle, Nikita just shrugged her shoulders. She didn't need to explain that her body was still reacting to his closeness. It was plainly written on her face and reinforced as she leaned into his embrace. Their bond was so strong that being ripped out of his arms knocked the air from her lungs. Steady on her feet once more, Nikita pulled back and held out her hand. With quizzical eyes, Michael relented and followed where she led.

It was not far. Stopping directly in front of the huge stone hearth, Nikita stepped back and took in the once brooding dark man. The red highlights in his hair burned bright. His eyes of silver and green held a look of lust and animal desire. He was made for sex. From his sultry lips to his Michaelangelo's David type physique. He was perfect, and for this moment in time he was hers.

Evading his wandering hands, Nikita raised a finger to his lips once again. "shhh..no words Michael."

With a devilish glint, she turned around so her back was to him. With a quick tug, her shirt was pulled from the waistband where it hung. The whisper of her belt rubbing against the cotton wafted into the air. Facing him again she touched the ribbon of leather against his cheek. Dropping it to the ground, her fingers released her jeans at button at a time. **pop..pop..pop** Grabbing his hands, Nikita placed them on the fabric. Stepping into his embrace, she pushed his arms down. Along came the denim that once covered her body. Green eyes opened wide. His Aphrodite was now uncovered for all to see. It was his dream turned to life. The soft glow of red and yellow disguised most of her bruising. She was liquid fire, and from experience he knew how all consuming her special brand of flame could be. The evidence of that glistened on her tawny curls.

Once more he tried to take charge. Once again he was rebuffed. He clenched his fists in effort to regain control. Soon his knuckles where tinged white. Biting his lip in effort to stop the plea that threatened to spill, he tried to forget the warmth and wetness that lay just a few inches away. He wanted her with such fierce desire that it frightened him.

Instantly all changed. A flash of color pulled him from his internal conversation. Blue and purple...those hues cooled him off as effectively as a pail of ice water. Unexpected drops welled up in his eyes. Her pain. He had felt every blow and every thrust of Madeline's instruments of torture as if it was happening to him. Gingerly he traced her damaged skin. With light touches he mentally healed her of all torment while inflicting it upon himself. He had failed her so many times. She was his to protect and cherish. How could she even stand to look at him now?

Nikita felt him pulled back. It was through her own tears that she saw his. It gripped her soul to finally comprehend. He cared for her beyond his own life. As his head turned, Nikita squeezed his hand in understanding. Long ago they had moved passed mentor and student. Now they stood as partner, lover and confidant. The image of him strapped to Madeline's chair was powerful indeed. In fact she felt sorrow and guilt. He would not have been there if not for her. They tried to protect each other...it was their job, and it was what stood in the way of their love. There was no blame to be placed between them, only moments to be treasured. Section was at fault. Their world of intrigue that used people as pawns was at fault. But it was the world they lived in. They survived because of this need to have the other around. Now what the future held was uncertain, but all that mattered was tonight. All that mattered was each other.

In moments of bittersweet joy, Michael was divested of his clothes. Before long his statuesque beauty was open for perusal. Muscles chiseled from tissue instead of marble became harder than stone. Hands explored freely in the cozy cabin, as cries of tension and burning desire came from their mouths. Their hearts melded and all time stopped as both stood before the roaring fire only a few feet away. Soon two bodies would become one. Then they would separate again...this time forever....

***********

The air had chilled in the few hours he had been there. Glowing embers dotted the grate and stone. Tugging the corner of the flannel throw, Michael prayed he wouldn't wake the one that lay across him. He just had to look upon her one last time. Inch by inch he uncovered her shoulders and back until she was bathed in soft orange light. Shifting in sleep, Nikita sighed sweetly against his chest. Warm breath spread over his skin tantalizing his exhausted body. Touching silky strands he memorized every nuance of the woman in his arms. Her sleek shape, satiny feel and unbelievable beauty inside and out.

He was perfectly sated, and still he craved to be one with her. Only hours before, dreams melded with reality. The memories alone caused his blood to pulse like fire through his veins. Gently she laid him down on the soft white fur to worship his body with her hands and hair. Her sweet mouth moving over him with desire. He had tried to gain control, but there was no stopping her. Between intense suction and perfectly timed nibbles, he gave himself up to her as she drank every last ouch of his salty desire. And that had just been the beginning.

His heartfelt wish had been fulfilled. He would always see the yellow flames flickering in her eyes as he buried himself within her. Instantly the lick of wet convulsions had gripped him. In perfect rhythm, their bodies had moved together. Never once did they loose the primal beat called from deep within. Moist from their exertions, the sight of firelight glistening off her flesh would never diminish. His heart would treasure the words of love that spilled from her lips as they both found paradise.

Wrapping her in a tight embrace, Michael noticed the cool texture of her skin. Only when goose bumps puckered in the crisp air, did Michael replace the coverlet. Instantly his heart reacted to the loss of the perfect vision. The delicate arch of her spine and the gentle curve of her side called to him like no other. She was made for him. So perfect...so loving. She was a gift, a piece of heaven, an angel descended to reawaken his heart. Only one of such power and grace could have worked that magic. He finally felt what it meant to be truly alive.

**sigh** Michael closed his eyes in despair. He knew that that every silver lining held a dark cloud. There was a price for his joy....a price he must now pay. His soul and heart had been rescued. But once more, he would have to abandon them and her to ensure the safety of the one he held dear.

* * * * * * *

When the flannel rubbed against her skin, Nikita woke from sleep. It took all she had to not move deeper into his arms. Each needed this moment to regain their whits. So many things needed to be said. But now the words she prepared would not come. In fact they were not necessary. The experience they shared expressed so much more than mere voices could. It was with pure emotions that their hearts spoke. Their souls had finally met on a common ground. That transcended the need to hear his love. She felt it when he looked at her, with a subtle brush of his hand. It was larger than anyone could comprehend. They had a love of a lifetime...a lifetime without end.

Because of that she had no choice....

She had been deluding herself to think that she did. Having him by her side had been a dream, but dreams only came true in rare fleeting moments. No longer was that an option. Finally she understood the man who held her heart. He was dignity...honor...and loyalty. To ask him to betray Section was impossible. He was Section, and Section was him. Leaving would destroy the man that he had become. It would kill the man she loved, slowly with each breath. She held no affinity for the institution. But for the man that was such a part of Section, she would give her life.

...and that was what she would do...

Her mind worked through scenario after scenario. By the time dawn streaked the sky, she was ready. Preparing herself for the heartbreak that was sure to follow, Nikita gave herself one last moment in his arms. Warm tears fell from her eyes slowly coating his chest. This night of magic would be their last. In fact, she would not be around to see the next sunset. Being wrapped in Michael's embrace was the last thing she wanted to feel. The love in his green eyes would be her strength as she walked to her death.

***********

Michael woke to the rich aroma of Colombian coffee. With eyes closed to the morning light, he stretched the kinks out of his neck and back. He had spent many a night on hard floors, but none were as enjoyable as last night's foray. Ever the observer, his ears picked up the quiet percolating of the coffeepot melded with the soft crackling of a newly stoked fire. But he could not hear her. She wasn't resting gently against him. Her hair wasn't there to tickle his nose as he breathed in and out. It wasn't her heat he missed, but the tingling of awareness that dusted his skin when she was within arms length. The morning instantly lost a measure of beauty.

He wanted to will himself to sleep. He wanted to run away. Today was the day. They could no longer hide in the shadows of night. They had to face it no matter how unpleasant it was to be. They would have to say goodbye.

Never the one to flee adversity, Michael gave up the pretense of putting off the inevitable. Wrapping the flannel throw around his waist to ward of the morning chill, he stood in search of the wonderful caffeine he knew was over in the corner. As he turned in the direction of the cast iron stove, a vision in black drew his attention. He couldn't move. Nikita stood in a stream of morning light clad in his shirt. Staring intently out the window at the lush outdoors, she calmly sipped from her mug. Damp hair hung down her back as wisps of drying tendrils framed her pale face.

Nikita didn't need to face him to know Michael was up. She could feel the piercing heat from his eyes, as he looked her up and down. Cupping the warm mug in her hands, she let the wonderful smell assault her senses. To anyone that watched, it looked as if she was sniffing her coffee. But in actuality, it was the musky male scent from Michael's shirt that she was memorizing. She branded herself with his presence using it to strengthen her resolve.

Her husky voice broke through the cabin. "Michael."

He did not respond. Seconds passed and as she turned her head to look at him, she was surprised to find him right behind her. He moved so stealthily. It was a trait she admired.

As she opened her mouth to speak once more, he placed his lips against hers. As she tried to pull away, he pleaded. "Nikita"

Giving up she let him stroke her heart strings once again. The kiss was one of tenderness and underlying sadness. Pulling back he spoke again. "We'll talk when I get out of the shower. We'll figure this out."

Nodding her head in agreements, the blonde gave his lips another kiss. As he moved to the bathroom door, he stopped. His words were meant to reassure her, but truthfully he was trying to convince himself. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As the door closed, Nikita just sighed. Switching into mission mode, her whisper lost its husky timber and gained one of determination. "Nor I you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Let me guess. I come in or you cancel me." It wasn't really a question, more of a statement. Both were seasoned operatives and knew how this scenario would be played out

Staring out into the green landscape, Michael swallowed the fear that crept into his throat amid the silence. Nikita did not pull any punches. They both knew what would happened if she returned. Madeline would take control and his love would never be seen again. Both choices led to the same end...Nikita was to die. The image of her bruised and scarred flesh leapt into his mind. If history were any indication, the road Section would choose would be excruciating, painful and downright sinister. Nikita would not be shown any mercy. He had seen her convulse as toxic drugs pumped through her veins as she screamed his name. Huddling in her corner of hell, she had only experienced a miniscule dose of what was in store. They could literally kill her cell by cell. In the end she would not be able to speak. Her vocal cords would be locked. The drugs would heighten her nerve cells causing her to be 100 times more sensitive. Then Madeline's army of inquisitors would split open her skin and fillet her alive.

No she could not go back. Section had a reason for its methods. But to be used against one, whose only crime was to challenge the authority of it's so called leaders? It was an outrage. His angel of mercy could not go through that...would not go through that as long as there was breath left in his body.

"Yes" Michael finally responded. He wouldn't lie to her. They needed to make this decision together. "You could run..."

Blonde hair whipped around viscously. "No. It was bad enough out there when they thought me dead. Every shadow held the Section. Every person dressed in black was an operative. But now with the Adrian and the Council involved, I wouldn't survive the week."

Deep down Nikita admitted honestly, it had been a fleeting thought. A flash, a dream that was quickly diminished as the brevity of the situation sunk in. She didn't want to run anymore. It was a worse life than conforming to Section standards. Survival was uncertain. Michael was not there. It wasn't an existence that held happiness. She would be looking over her shoulder constantly. Section was ruthless in tracking down their wayward operatives. But with what she knew about the Agency, let alone that she even knew about the Council, the bounty on her head would be phenomenal.

No she would not run...

"We have another problem."

Michael waited for her to proceed. Of course there would be. This complex tale just continued to get worse. Ever since she first informed him of the existence of Adrian and the Council, Michael knew in his heart that there was more to her explanation. She held something back. Finally she was going to come clean.

Moving to get what seemed to be her 10th cup of coffee, Nikita continued in a somber voice. "Adrian wants you on the Council."

His voice was surprisingly strong as the floor opened another gapping hole directly under his feet. He was sinking into the dark abyss as each second passed. Could he work with Red Cell? The Legion...the list went on. What purpose did they truly hold except for being the personal army of revenge for whoever was in charge? Were their motives and actions just? He had to know.

"What does that include?"

That was a question she could answer honestly, and she did. "Information beyond comprehension. Much more critical than anything you have experienced as a Level Five operative. At times it is more then you want to know. It demands allegiance to something other then the Section."

Nikita let the last part sink in before she delivered the final blow.

"You would be asked to betray Section One."