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Chapter One

I know that she is home. I know who she is with, yet I cannot help myself. I could have easily have sent someone else to check on her. Why am I doing this?

The door finally opens and she is there, barely opening the door enough for me to see her.

My God. This is how she appears in my dreams, the dreams that have me twisting alone in my sheets night after night. Her blonde hair is mussed, her beautiful face is flushed, her lips swollen. There is a faint rash of whisker burn along her jaw line, and jealousy suddenly sears my gut.

"Who is it?" I hear his voice from her room. Her bedroom.

"It's...uh..." She looks at me, seemingly frozen.

"It's your cousin Michael." My heart lurches as I hear my own words. Claiming kinship when I have no right to do so.

"This is not a good time, Michael!" She hisses the words at me.

"Since when do you decide when it is a good time?" My voice is calm, belying the fact that I am seething inside.

This was a mistake. I am slowly taking in her appearance. The man's shirt is obviously Gray's. She is naked under the shirt, and the endless legs are bare. I have felt those legs around my waist, that lush mouth open and hungry beneath my own. It was part of a mission profile, but it makes it a no less potent memory in my mind.

Gray, however, is not a mission to her. She is with him of her own free will.

I push open the door hard, my eyes never leaving hers. This is a battle of wills that she is not going to win tonight. She is angry, defensive. I pull her to me before she can step away.

"I missed you!" The irony of my words is not lost on her. Her eyes flash at me in mute appeal. I ignore them.

Taking her face in my hands, I try to ignore the heady scent of her, the heat of her body, the smoothness of her skin beneath my fingers. Her mouth is so close to mine that all I would have to do is turn my head slightly and our lips would meet. Almost as though she can read the intent in my eyes, she jerks her head to one side swiftly, my lips grazing her cheek instead. Her skin is warm under my mouth, and I linger over the kiss to her other cheek. I manage to smile, but happiness is an emotion that I am far from feeling at this point in time.

Not that long ago, I stood outside this same door, waiting to seduce her into staying in Section. I have told myself many times since that it was the only way to keep her alive. I am lying. I could have just gone to her, told her the truth about Eric, that she would never make it away from Section, that his plan would fail. Instead, I chose a private mission profile that wounded her, completely unnerved me and widened the gulf between us to a canyon of mistrust and hurt. I am ashamed to admit that I was perversely pleased by the fact that I was able to get so close to her so easily. More disturbing is the constant hollow memory of how any pretence that I was only doing my job dissolved at the first touch of her mouth on mine. When the prearranged call came in, I had to fight my way back to reality through a fog of a desire so potent it left me shaking inside.

Seeing her tonight I wish, not for the first time, that I did not know how it felt to kiss her, to feel her lips part easily under mine, to feel her tense body relax into mine as I pull her hard against me.

Gray. He appears at the top of the stairs, carrying an empty wine bottle and glasses. Drinking wine in bed together. Such a simple pleasure, one that I will never be able to enjoy with her. I stroll over to him, having to remind myself yet again that he is an innocent in this situation. The urge to smash one of those bottles against his head is getting stronger by the second.

"You must be Gray". My voice sounds false in my own ears, and I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves. "Pleased to meet you". This would have to be one of the more surreal situations that I have been in for a while.

He looks at me, confused as to who I am, and what I am doing there. I manage to paste a smile onto my face as he studies me.

"Who are you?" Not perhaps the most polite way of phrasing the question, but he does have a point. Of all people, I can understand the subtle hostility beneath the banal query. I know the question that he really wants to ask. Who are you to her?

Nikita hesitates for only a second, before turning to him with a beaming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"This is my cousin, Michael." There is an unspoken challenge in her words, inaudible to him but very clear to me. This is your story... you do the talking.

"I feel like I know you already. You're all Nikita talks about these days." I realise that I will be paying the price for this scene later. I can sense her anger building, but there is nothing she can say to me here, not in front of Gray.

"Really?"

I am rapidly running out of small talk. A loud beep from the microwave saves me the trouble of having to think of any more vapid noises to make at this man.

"Oh, I'll get that." I watch him dart into the kitchen. He cooks too. Great.

Chapter Two

Gray moves through to the kitchen. I see panic cross her face. She does not want to be alone with me. I scan her apartment out of force-of-habit, taking a deep breath before turning around to face her. Our eyes meet.

"I'm sorry to bust in." I am sorry, but not in a way that I can ever tell her. I am sorry that I had to see this, to see her happy with someone else. I am sorry for myself, sorry that I can never be the one here with her.

"I tried to call, but, uh, I couldn't get through." The guilt flashes briefly in her eyes, but she only smiles an innocent smile at me. I realise that she is standing in front of her phone. Hiding it.

Holding her gaze with mine, I walk slowly towards her. If Gray was not five feet away, would I be able to stop myself pushing her up against that wall? Ripping the shirt from her body and kissing her hard until the only name that she could remember was mine? Lust and anger are a dangerous combination. I take a deep breath and focus on her face.

She retreats as I advance, her back now up against the sideboard. I reach around her to examine the phone. The cord has been pulled out of the wall. My arm brushes against hers and I am startled anew by my instant response, desire tightening my body. I can smell her perfume and feel her heat. As though she has just gotten out of a warm bed. I clamp down hard on the thought and draw her attention back to the telephone.

"Look, it's disconnected." Her eyes widen slightly, although I'm only telling her something she already knows. "I wonder how that happened?"

I reach around her, careful to avoid touching her again and plug the phone back in. It isn't a question I expect an answer to, so I am surprised when she actually replies.

"I unplugged it." Her tone is casual, as befitting our sudden status as cousins.

"And your cell phone?" I am growing impatient with her, with myself.

"It's broken." As she says these words, she throws a happy smile at Gray, drawing him back into the conversation. Damn her.

His hesitant voice cuts through the air humming between us. I am not surprised that he has picked up on the tension, even though he cannot quite work out the cause of it.

"Uh, Michael? Glass of wine?"

I know that accepting a drink is the last thing that she wants me to do. Perversely, I do just that. "Thank you." The continued effort of smiling and being pleasant to him is surprisingly tiring. Strange how a person can withstand hours of torture and yet stumble and fall in the undeniable face of jealousy.

Nikita follows me as I walk over to stand next to Gray. I can feel her eyes on my back. She only manages a smile when he turns to her.

"Nikita, you never mentioned you had a cousin living in town." There is an undercurrent in his voice. Ah. The secrets and half-explanations have already begun, and this is just one more. He obviously does not like not being kept in the dark.

I am almost proud of her as she replies in a breezy tone, her voice totally natural as she answers him.

"Oh, Michael works away a lot. He's rarely ever here." It is not really an answer, merely an evasion. He turns to me though, apparently satisfied by her reply.

"What do you do?" A natural enough question, but I get the feeling that he is testing me.

She cuts her eyes at me, her meaning quite plain. Yes Michael, what do you do?

"Buy art for galleries." I hand one of my many business cards to him, catching her eye as I do so. The anger that she is being forced to hide in front of him darts quickly at me. The fatuous smile plastered on my face disappears under her unhappy gaze. Our eyes hold for a moment before she looks away, but not before a familiar twinge of guilt twists my gut. The worst thing is that I know very well that this is will not be the last time that I cause her pain.

Gray continues on, oblivious to the private drama being played out in front of him.

"You know what's weird? We were just talking about meeting family today."

His words cause an empty ache in my chest. Not just for me, but for her. This will not be allowed to continue. This is not a life that she can ever have. I know that she will not believe it until she is shocked into it. I do not want to be the one to have to do it. I hear her intake of breath, as though gathering her thoughts before she meets my eyes.

"So, Michael. Must be something important to drag you all the way over here?"

I let my brow furrow, a look of concern coming over my face.

"Yeah, it's your Aunt Josephine. She's still not doing well. So, I told her you'd drop by in the morning."

I watch her, seeing her whole body stiffen as I utter that one word. Josephine. A reminder of another life that has no place in this bright little kitchen tonight, here with this man who clearly adores her.

Just as I have no place here this evening.

"Fine." She hardly gives me a chance to finish my sentence. Her eyes, while still filled with anger, are now pleading for mercy. Please go. Please leave. As much as I understand it, it cuts me to the quick.

"Good." She nods at me now, her impatience for me to be gone barely concealed. I smile at her, a deliberate curling of the mouth that I know will infuriate her.

"Welcome to the family, Gray." I raise my glass to him, knowing full well that there will be no happy endings where this family is concerned.

"Cheers." He accepts the toast happily enough, clicking his glass against mine. As he drinks, my gaze meets hers again. Judging from the look in her eyes, I will not have much to look forward to at our next meeting.

Chapter Three

The smooth surface of the briefing table is cool beneath my fingers, but nothing can soothe my heated thoughts this morning. Why did I go there last night? I knew that Gray would be with her. It was as though I needed to test myself, to prove to myself that it would not affect me.

I failed miserably. One look at her and I was a mess, although she will never know it. I thought that nothing could be worse than trailing her that night five weeks ago, knowing full well that she was going to meet Gray and yet unable to stop myself from following. I close my eyes briefly, remembering all too vividly the aching emptiness that welled up inside me as I stood there, watching him open the door to her, the light spilling out to illuminate her light hair to a shining gold. I was too far away to hear their words, but the body language said it all. She wanted to be with him. In that instant, I watched her slip beyond of my reach, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Sitting here now, I sense her presence long before I see her, feel her helpless rage long before she is next to me. Thankfully we will be alone for what I know will not be pleasant, for either of us.

She leans forward so that her head is next to mine, a sudden intimacy that can never begin to assuage my need to be near her. Her lips are next to my ear, her breath caressing my face. I have to fight the urge to turn my head towards her, to press my lips against her warm cheek. The words are whispered, but the anguish in her voice is apparent.

"What gives you the right to barge in on my life?"

I cannot meet her eyes, cannot speak to her of the tangled fusion of emotions that have me in their grip. The clean scent of her hair fills my nostrils and I clutch for something tangible.

Section protocol.

"You don't unplug the phone. Ever". I speak softly, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her flinch at my words.

I can hear the hopelessness in her voice. "All I wanted was one hour to myself! Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes." I bite the word out, turning to her at last, but she has already pulled away from me and will not meet my eyes. She takes the seat next to me as other operatives start to file into the briefing room. Her refusal to look at me allows me to study her at my leisure. The blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a hasty knot, her pale face shows no signs of make-up. She looks like she just rolled out of bed. A hot flash of jealousy pierces my thoughts, and I strive to banish thoughts of her with Gray.

I am unsuccessful. Operations begins the briefing, but I am only hearing every other word. The memory of how she looked when she opened her door last night is burnt into my mind. Her appearance was that of someone who had been made love to, very thoroughly. It is a violation of Section protocol, grounds for cancellation, and a betrayal of many others in my life, but there is a brutal truth that I am suddenly being forced to confront.

I wanted to be the one who made her look like that.

Chapter Four

Madeline has already spoken to me about Nikita's deepening involvement with Gray. I replay our conversation in my head now as I finalise the profile for Nikita's next mission.

"Sooner or later she will, whether it's with Gray or someone else. And when that situation happens, will you be able to handle it?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"That's something only you can answer."

I admitted nothing of my feelings to her. There was no need. Someone with far less profiling experience than Madeline would have noticed that my feelings towards Nikita had far surpassed that of the usual mentor-trainee relationship long ago.

How then, does Nikita not notice?

***

She is angry with me yet again. I ordered her to debrief after the latest mission there and then, although it was after midnight, and she could have just as easily debriefed in the morning as she requested. Exhaustion was etched on her pale face, understandably so. She had spent the previous night lying on a cold, hard floor, unable to move. I no longer pretend to be an honourable man. I knew why she was in a hurry, who she was hurrying to. I wanted to keep her with me as long as I could. The knowledge that she wanted to escape Section, if only for one night, to be with Gray, was not a surprise. Harder to deal with is the realisation that I have also come to represent Section to her.

Madeline has already warned her to end the relationship, but knowing Nikita as I do, her caution would have fallen on very deaf ears. I tell myself that making things difficult for her will help her to understand that this cannot go on. She cannot possibly hope to continue this romance with Gray, befriending his daughter, becoming more and more entangled in their lives until there is no way out. I am only concerned with keeping her safe.

I look into myself, into the dark possessive fear that squeezes my heart. I am lying to myself.

I want him gone.

Chapter Five

I can't concentrate on the figures before me. I know that she has arrived in Section, and that I will soon be faced with the emotional fall-out from her latest mission. I cannot forget how her voice changed when she answered the hotel room telephone only to hear my voice. The happy greeting dissolved into shocked silence. I had closed my eyes, silently asking her forgiveness for what I was about to demand of her. The dial tone was abrupt, and I cursed once more the fact that in doing my job, I had only put a new face on her anger. My own.

When she finally appears in my doorway, I do not acknowledge her presence, although every nerve in my body is tingling with awareness. When she speaks, the calmness of her voice surprises me, although I am careful not to let it show.

"Hi, Michael."

"Hello." I continue to key in figures that I quickly realise I will have to go over again when she is gone. I have no idea of what I am working on.

There is a pause, then she continues in an almost sweet tone of voice.

"Is there any reason you had to involve Gray in our business?"

My guilt makes me defensive. I am guilty on three counts. I took advantage of her relationship with Gray to suit Section's ends. I wanted to drive home to her the inescapable truth that she could not split her life in two. I did not think twice about doing it. Retreating behind standard Section-speak, I give her a non-committal answer.

"There is a reason for everything we do." I finally look up at her. Her blue eyes are guileless, but I sense an inner rage that she is struggling to keep under control.

"Is there a problem?" Even as I ask, I know that the question is pointless. She will not confide in me. This has become a personal battle between us, and she will not give me the slightest satisfaction by admitting that her relationship with Gray is being affected by the Section.

She smiles at me, a smile full of false bravado that does not meet her eyes. "No. Nothing I can't handle."

Still smiling, she shrugs her shoulders at me almost imperceptivity, and leaves my office.

Leaving me no closer to getting her out of the mess that she has entangled herself in. She does not want my help. I am no longer even sure that I can help.

***

She has not arrived.

I called her in two hours ago, and requested her presence in twenty minutes. I have delayed the loading of the mission as long as I dare without attracting attention from either Operations or Madeline, but time has run out.

I am ready to kill Valery myself. His whining voice is grating on my already raw nerves, although I have to admit he is quite right to feel anxious.

"Where's the girl? I can't go in without the girl." I look at him. His constant references to Nikita as 'the girl' are beginning to infuriate me. As though she is just a prop to keep him alive.

Walter is walking towards me. I already know the answer to the question that I am going to ask by the grim look on his face, but I ask it nevertheless.

"Have you heard from Nikita?"

He looks at me. We both know what I am really asking. How much longer can we cover for her?

He answers me reluctantly. "Not yet."

Dread churns my stomach. I check my watch. We cannot wait for her any longer.

"We go without her."

Walter nods at me. I see my own apprehension mirrored in his face.

Valery continues his whining as he is led away by two members of my team. "Bad idea. Everybody knows I'm superstitious. I take a girl all the time to the buys."

I manage to resist the urge to snap his neck and follow them towards the door of van access. "Forget it. It's going to go down too fast to matter."

His insistent words drift back to me as we move through the door, pointing out something I know only too well. "It's your party. Price is going to know something's wrong."

"It won't matter. He'll be surrounded." I wonder just who I am trying to convince.

Valery allows himself one more complaint. "Just remember, I'm not the target."

The bravado drains from his face as I turn to stare at him. Perhaps he is only just realising that Madeline is not the only person he should fear. A perverse impulse to make him squirm comes over me, and I watch his face pale as he registers my one word answer.

"Duck."

Chapter Six

The mission does not go as well as it could have gone. This is a slight understatement.

A flash of blonde hair catches my eye. She is finally here.

I cannot look at her. I am angry beyond belief. I force my attention back to the matter at hand. She has just handed them the perfect ammunition, the perfect reason to cancel her. All because of her stubborn refusal to accept a harsh reality. We do not exist in the outside world.

"Exterior's clean. Let's move in. Shooters first. Everyone but Price is expendable. Go." My voice sounds clipped and angry, even to my own ears.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She is breathing heavily, her eyes fixed on the monitors above our heads. She flinches at the sound of gunfire, and I see guilt warring with fear in her pale face. As we reach closure on the mission, a heavy silence falls over Comm. Madeline's voice on the intercom breaks into my churning thoughts.

"Nikita. My office now, please." It is almost a polite request, but I know better. Nikita moves slowly, her eyes catching mine as she passes. I have to turn away from the beseeching look she throws at me. I cannot help her, and it is tearing me apart.

***

I should not be shocked at what I am hearing. God knows, I have seen and heard too much in this office in the past, but I still cannot quell the sick disbelief clutching at my gut.

"It's the only option we have left. She is not going to end the relationship willingly." The soft lilting tone of Madeline's voice is an odd contrast to what she is suggesting. Section-sanctioned murder.

"Is that really necessary?" I strive to keep any sign of my conflicting emotions from my voice, my eyes.

"Nikita knew the dangers of becoming involved with someone from the outside. God knows, she was warned enough times. Even after the potential disaster she caused with the Valery mission, she has continued down this path. How many times would you have us bend the rules for her, Michael?"

Operations' pale eyes bore into mine, challenging me to defy him. I stay silent, returning his gaze with a calm I am far from feeling. He turns away. I have obviously been dismissed.

This will finish her. I cannot let them do this.

"I believe that killing Gray will impact unfavourably on Nikita's performance as an operative." They turn to look at me, Operations impatient, Madeline seemingly curious. I take a silent breath and prepare to bargain for the life of a man whom I have wished dead a hundred times.

"I would suggest a different course of action."

Epilogue

She came to me. I knew she would. She slammed into my office, tears streaming down her face, brandishing her weapon like it was a toy. Her eyes were red, her hair slightly messy. She took my breath away.

I watch as she throws the gun onto my desk, my heart breaking for her, my face showing nothing of my thoughts.

Her voice is low and full of pain. "I don't want it any more. Cancel me. I can't live like this. I'm done."

She whirls around to go. I cannot let her leave like this.

"Nikita..."

She stops, as though she was expecting me to call her back, as though she needed me to do it. She waits motionless as I stand and brush past her to shut the door. I am thankful that she at least waits until the door is shut before she begins to shout. I let her do it. The anger and the hurt will have to come out sometime. Far better that it be here now with me, than during a session with Madeline, or in the middle of a mission under Operations' watchful eye.

"This place, the Section... is full of lies! They talk about all the innocent people they save! Well, what about the innocent people we hurt?" It is obvious where she is going with this. She is struggling with guilt as much as she is anger.

"Like the four-year-old girls just wondering why they've been abandoned?"

It is hard to find the words to comfort her, because there are none. I can only remind her of what she has known all along, but would not let herself believe.

"You were warned. You should have never gotten involved. You still believe in free will." I move closer to her, trying to gauge the effect of my words on her. She will not give me her eyes, her breathing ragged with emotion.

"In here, there's no such thing."

She comes alive, her face twisted with grief.

"You keep telling me that, Michael, but I don't believe you any more." She looks me straight in the eye. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her, passionate with rage.

She softly mocks me, coming closer as she speaks. "You couldn't handle it, could you Michael?"

She is closer to the truth than she will ever know. I step away from her, the blood suddenly pounding in my ears. I will not be able to keep a rein on my tumultuous feelings much longer with her being so close. I turn my back on her, but her taunting voice follows me, allowing me no relief.

"You got jealous of Gray...because I love him and not you."

Enough. I turn on my heel and we are suddenly face to face. A tangled rush of emotions, anger, jealousy and need, rise up in my chest and force their way out.

"You don't love me?" The words are out before I can stop them. The chill of shock envelops my heart as I realise what I've just said, just how much I've revealed with these four words. My god. Anger with myself and disbelief has me frozen in place, waiting for her answer.

I'm not sure if I want one.

We are so close that I can feel her breath on my face. She doesn't speak, and her silence both unnerves and reassures me. I want her to deny it. I want her to admit it.

I don't want to consider the implications of either.

My breath catches hard in my throat as I watch her, my own words still ringing mockingly in my ears. Her mouth is a whisper away from mine, and it takes every ounce of willpower that I possess to resist pulling her body hard against mine. Lightening-quick memories of her soft curves beneath me, her hips straining against mine as my tongue plunders her mouth are nearly my undoing.

Her eyes widen in the wake of my words, the question that I have forced her to confront. Shock, then a light of realisation floods her eyes. Then it is gone, as though it was never there. I feel her mind push me away, like a slap in the face.

Confused, she retreats behind her anger. "Oh, you came up with a brilliant idea... almost kill Gray. Come on, Michael. At least have the decency to admit it!"

I take a deep breath and embrace her rage with relief. Anything to distract from the aching hollow inside me, a dull throb of misery pushing on my chest. Her refusal to acknowledge what we both know is between us has affected me in a way that I just don't want to accept. This can't happen. I need to push her away. This is not safe for either of us.

"Yes. It was my idea."

She sucks her breath in. She obviously did not expect me to admit this. Perhaps she was clinging to the hope that I didn't have anything to do with Gray's near-accident.

The angry tears well up in her eyes once more as she stares at me.

"You're sick."

She is nearly at the door, and the need to tell her the truth suddenly overwhelms me.

"I only proposed it after I heard theirs."

She turns to me, her face filling with fear. I will not soften this blow for her. If I do, the events of the past few weeks will have taught her nothing.

"They wanted to kill him." There is no need for me to explain who 'they' were.

She wavers, her eyes locked on mine. My heart aches for her, but I cannot help her with this. This was an overdue lesson that she had to learn the hard way, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I walk over to my desk and pick up her gun. She does not move, even when I move to stand close beside her and touch her hand.

Her skin is warm and soft beneath my fingertips, and I try to ignore the fact that I can see the pale skin of her arms and upper chest through the black lace of her shirt. I silently will her to take the gun from my hand. I need her to want to survive. I need her.

Her head is bowed in defeat.

"Gray will heal, his daughter will grow up... and they will have the life they deserve."

Her body tenses and her eyes come up to stare at me. I can offer her nothing more. I long to comfort her, but I cannot. Her hand hangs limp at her side, and she makes no attempt to take the gun from mine. I reach up with my other hand and lightly touch her arm, gently pushing the handle of the gun into her grasp. My touch seems to break her reverie, and she snatches the gun from me, wrenching her arm from my grip. She moves to leave, but turns to face me again with a stare so open and intense that I can feel my heart start to pound erratically. Anger at myself for making myself so vulnerable is suddenly at war with a longing so intense that I begin to silently pray that she leaves my office right now. Now, before I compound my mistake by touching her, caressing her as my hands and body are clamouring to do. She pulls away from me, and with a final icy glare, she is gone.

I let out the breath I didn't realise that I was holding, and slam the door that she has left open behind her. Relief surges through my body. I manage to resist the overwhelming urge to follow her, to make sure that she is all right. She will be fine. Her anger can only make her stronger. I can deal with all hurt and suspicion that she can lay at my door, as long as she is alive.

My guilt is no less than hers. I cannot tell myself that I wanted Gray out of the picture purely for the good of the Section. I can only pray that she never finds out the role that I played in this latest mission for the good of Section. There was no need for me to be involved. Any half-competent Operative would have been capable of carrying out a fake hit-and-run scenario. Why then? I told myself that I wanted to be sure that he was left unharmed. Madeline was not convinced by my explanation. Neither was I.

I close my eyes as I remember the feeling of the steering wheel in my hands, the darkened street, his startled face white with shock. He will never know how close he was to losing his life in that instant. How close I was to taking it from him.

I love him and not you

You don't love me?

I saw a startled realisation of a long-denied truth flash into her eyes, and I watched her push it away. A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it.

I wish things could be different.

THE END

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